CHAPTER XXXVI.
RETRIBUTION.
"Oh, woman wronged can cherish hate More deep and dark than manhood may, And when the mockery of fate Hath left revenge her chosen way." --WHITTIER.
It was the afternoon of the following day. The squire sat alone,muttering to himself: "Singular! most singular! most ex-_cess_-ivelysingular! wants a private interview, eh! What the dickens can be in oldWiseman's noddle now? Maybe he wants to divorce Gipsy, and marry Lizzie.Ha! ha! ha! that would be a joke. Wonder what old Mother Oranmorewanted? that's another secret. I suppose she told Gipsy and--ha! here'sGipsy herself. 'Speak of Old Nick, and he'll appear,' as Solomon says.Well, what's the news?"
"Where's Dr. Wiseman?" inquired Gipsy, abruptly.
"Up stairs. He sent down word some time ago, that he had somethingimportant to tell me, and wanted a private interview. Think of that! Butwhat is the matter with you? You look as if you'd been riding on abroomstick all night--as if you were the Witch of Endor, who told KingSaul's fortune long ago."
As he spoke, a slow, heavy footstep was heard descending the stairs.
"There's old Wiseman now, pegging along," said the squire. "I never seehim walking, since he broke his shin-bone, that he doesn't remind me ofOld Nick himself. Now for this wonderful secret of his."
"Guardy, don't mention that I am here," said Gipsy, hurriedly. "I have aproject in hand, that I fancy will astonish him a little, by and by."
"Well, be sure you're right, then go ahead, as Solomon says--you alwayshave some project or other in your cranium to bother his brains."
"I fancy I will bother him a little more than usual this time," saidGipsy, with a low, bitter laugh--gliding through one door just as thedoctor entered by another.
Dr. Wiseman, thin and attenuated by illness, looked even more ghastlyand hideous (if such a thing were possible) than when we saw him last.He advanced, and took a seat near the fire.
"Well, Wiseman, what's this wonderful affair you have to tell me?" saidthe squire, adjusting himself in his seat to listen.
"It concerns my wife," replied the doctor, slowly.
"Yes, some complaint, I'll be bound! Now, I tell you what, Wiseman, Iwon't listen to your stories about Gipsy. She has always done what sheliked, and she always shall, for what I care. If she likes to enjoyherself, she will, and you nor no one else shall interfere," said thesquire, striking the table with an emphatic thump.
"Don't jump at conclusions so hastily, my dear sir," said the doctor,dryly. "I have no complaint to make of Mrs. Wiseman. It is of her birthand parentage I would speak."
"Her birth and parentage! Is the man mad? Don't you know she's afoundling?" said the squire, staring with all his eyes.
"Yes, but lately I have discovered who she is. You need not exciteyourself, Squire Erliston, as I see you intend doing. Listen to me, andI will tell you all about it. The time has come for you to know.
"Perhaps you are not aware that for many years I have been the friendand confidant of Mrs. Madge Oranmore; but so it is. I was bound to herby the strongest ties of gratitude, and willingly served her in allthings.
"One Christmas eve, just nineteen years ago, she sent for me in mosturgent haste. I followed her messenger, and was shown to the lady'sroom. There I found an infant enveloped in a large shawl, which she toldme I was to consign to the waves--in a word, to drown it. You start,Squire Erliston, but such was her command. She refused to tell me whatprompted her to so fiendish an act. I was in her power, and she knew Idared not refuse; I therefore consented----"
"To drown the child?" said the squire, recoiling in horror.
"Listen--I feared to refuse, and promised to do it. I went to the beach,the tide was out; while I stood hesitating, I heard a sleighapproaching. I wrapped the child up closely, and laid it right in theirway, and stood aside to watch the event; determined, in case they didnot see it, to provide for it comfortably myself. Fortunately, they sawit. A woman who was in the sleigh took it with her--that woman was Mrs.Gower--that child is now my wife."
"Goo-oo-d Lord!" ejaculated the squire, whose mouth and eyes were opento their widest extent.
"When you told me how she had been found, I knew immediately it was thesame. I had long felt remorse for what I had done, and I at onceresolved to make reparation to the best of my power, by marrying thefoundling. This, Squire Erliston, was the secret of my wish to marryGipsy, which puzzled you so long.
"Still, I was completely ignorant of her parentage. Owing to myaccident, I was unable to visit Mrs. Oranmore; but I wrote to herrepeatedly, threatening her with exposure if she did not immediatelyreveal the whole affair. She grew alarmed at last, and sent me a letterthat explained all, only begging me not to disgrace her, by letting theworld know what she had done. That letter, I regret to say, has beenunhappily lost."
"Well!" said the squire, breathlessly, seeing he paused.
"Well, sir, she told me all. My wife is the child of your eldestdaughter, Esther, and Alfred Oranmore."
Bewildered, amazed, thunderstruck, the squire sat gazing upon him in aspeechless horror.
"The way of it was _this_," continued the doctor, as calmly as though hewas ordering him a prescription. "Alfred Oranmore, as you know, wasaccidentally drowned, leaving his wife in the utmost destitution. Mrs.Oranmore heard of it, and had Esther privately conveyed to her house,while she caused a notice of her death to be published in the papers.What her object was in doing this, I know not. Esther, she says, died inher house. How she came by her death, I cannot even guess. I knewnothing of it at the time, as I told you before. Mrs. Oranmore wishedthis child removed, that it might not be in the way of her son, Barry;and thinking I was as heartless and cruel as herself, she employed meto drown it. Such, Squire Erliston, is this singular story. I thought itmy duty to inform you immediately."
"And Gipsy is my grandchild," said the squire, in the slow, bewilderedtone of one who cannot realize what he says.
"Yes; and the rightful heiress of Mount Sunset," said the wily doctor,in a slow, triumphant tone.
"And the avenger of her mother!" cried the voice of Gipsy herself, asshe stood before them. "Oh, wonderful Doctor Wiseman! astonishing indeedis thy talent for invention and hardihood. What a strain on yourimagination it must have been, to invent such a story! Have you everheard of the proverb, 'Murder will out,' my lord and master? Ho, there!Burke and Johnston, enter! here is your prisoner!"
She opened the door as she spoke, and the constables entered.
"What in the devil's name means this?" exclaimed the doctor, growingdeadly pale.
"Yes, call on your master," mocked Gipsy; "he has stood by you long, butI fear he will not serve you more. Quick, there, Burke! on with thehandcuffs. Gently, Doctor Wiseman--gently, my dear sir; you will hurtyour delicate wrists if you struggle so. Did any prophetic seer everforetell, Doctor Wiseman, your end would be by the halter?"
"What means this outrage? Unhand me, villains!" exclaimed the doctor,hoarse with rage and fear, as he struggled madly to free himself fromthe grasp of the constables.
"Softly, doctor, softly," said Gipsy, in a voice, low, calm, andmocking; "you are _only_ arrested for the murder of my mother, EstherOranmore, just nineteen years ago. Ah! I see you remember it. I fearedsuch a trifle might have escaped your memory!"
The face of the doctor grew perfectly ghastly. He staggered back, andwould have fallen, had he not been upheld by one of the men. Gipsy stoodbefore him, with a face perfectly white, save two dark purple spotsburning on either cheek. Her wild eyes were blazing with an intenselight, her lips wreathed in a smile of exultant triumph; her long hair,streaming in disorder down her back, gave her a look that awed even theconstables themselves.
"And now, Doctor Wiseman," she said, in a slow, bitter, but exultingvoice, "I have fulfilled my vow of vengeance; my revenge is complete, orwill be, when your miserable body swings from the gallows. I see now,your aim in compelling me to marry you; but you have failed. Satan hasdeserted his ea
rthly representative, at last. No earthly power can saveyou from hanging now. Away with him to prison! The very air is taintedwhich a murderer breathes."
The men advanced to bear off their prisoner. At that moment therecollection of the astrologer's fell prediction flashed across hismind. Word for word it had been fulfilled. Before him, in ghastly array,arose the scaffold, the hangman, his dying agonies, and the terriblehereafter. Overcome by fear, horror, and remorse, with a piercing shriekof utter woe, the wretched man fell senseless to the floor.
"Take him away," said Gipsy, sternly, turning aside with a shudder ofdisgust; "my eyes loathe the sight of him!"
They bore him away. Gipsy stood at the window listening, until the lastsound of the carriage died away in the distance; then, abruptly turning,she quitted the room, leaving the squire stunned, speechless, andbewildered by the rapidity with which all this had taken place.
Sharing Her Crime: A Novel Page 37
