CHAPTER VIII.
It was a dark and gloomy room, with three high, narrow windows. Coradeparted hastily, frightened at what she had done. In a recess at thefarther end, before a chest of black bog-oak, sat the man I sought. Thecrowning moment of my life was come. All rehearsals went for nothing:the strongest feeling of my heart was scorn, cold, unfathomable scorn.To show myself well, I took off my hat, and advanced in my haughtiestmanner.
As he turned his head, I saw that his mood was blacker than the oakbefore him. Some dark memorials perhaps were there; hastily and heavilyhe flung down the lid, as I walked with even steps towards him.
"Ah! Miss Valence! The young lady that paints. I feared that you werelost to London; for now-a-days the pursuit of the fine arts requireseither genius, or fashion, at any rate the latter most, to be at allremunerative. May I show you the way to the drawing-room? I have notoften the honour of receiving visitors here. But I think you know howentirely I am the slave of young ladies, Miss Valence." And he held outhis delicate hand.
"Lepardo Della Croce, my name is not Valence. I am Clara Vaughan, theonly child of him whom in his sleep you murdered."
He turned not pale, but livid. His jaunty nonsense was gone in amoment. He quailed from my dark eyes, and fell upon a chair. For oneminute there he crouched, and dared not meet my gaze; every fibre of hisflesh was quivering. It was not shame that cowed him, but theprostration of amazement.
Suddenly he leaped upright, and met me eye to eye. Then I saw that hispupils turned towards each other, as my uncle had described. I neitherspoke, nor allowed my gaze to falter. Every nerve and cord of my framewas tense, and rigid, and rooted. To him I must have seemed theembodiment of revenge.
At last he spoke, very slowly, and in words that trembled.
"You have no right to judge me by your English notions. You do notunderstand me."
"I judge you not at all. God shall judge and smite you. In cold bloodyou murdered a man who never wronged you."
"What!" he burst forth in a blaze of triumph, "no wrong to steal mylovely bride, and my noble inheritance, to debauch the purest blood ofCorsica by a prostitute wedding; no wrong to strike me senseless! Evenyour nation of policemen would call this rather initiative."
"The man you stole upon in his sleep had never seen or heard of you, hadnever been in Corsica."
"What?" His teeth struck together like fire-tongs badly jointed, and hecould not part them.
"It is true. I regret to inform you that you must go to hell fornothing. You could not even murder the right man."
"Tell me."
"Like a coward as you are, you crawled, and lurked, and lied; you spentwhat little mind you have in securing a baby's blow, you crouched amongold clothes and bed-ticks, and behind the housemaid's flask; and youwent away exulting in your bloody soul, over what? the wrong man'smurder."
"Can it be?"
"Not only this, but you enriched and brought into high position the manyou meant to kill. He became the lord of his half-brother's lands, andnow is wealthy and happy, and the children you stole will help him tolaugh at your Vendetta."
"Wait a little."
"Cats and small dogs you can carve alive, when a woman has strapped themdown for you, and the poor things are trying to lick you. But as formidnight murder, however sound your victims sleep, you have not nerveenough. You quake and quiver so that you know not a dark man from afair. Clever, don't you think? Particularly for a Professor."
I saw that my contempt was curling round him like a knout; so I gave hima little more of it.
"Of course we could not expect you to meet your foe like a man. Evenwere you a worthy sample of your sneaking race, you never could do that.Too wholesome memory of the English blow between your quailing eyes. Iam pleased to see you fumbling clumsily for your dagger. Who knows butwhat you are fool enough even to have some self-respect?"
A black tint darted beneath his skin, as if his heart were acuttle-fish. Had I taken my eyes from him, he would have stabbed me.He fell back against the oak chest. My madness grew with my triumph.
"No. You dare not do it, because I am not asleep. Come, I will give youevery chance, Lepardo Della Croce. If you are brave enough to shoot awhite-haired man at dinner, surely you have the courage to stab a younggirl on the sofa. Here I lie. I will not move. And I defy you to doit."
Quietly I lay and watched him; but as if he were scarcely worth it. Hecould not take his eyes from mine. He was like a rat before a snake.And all the while, his hand was working on the cross haft of a poniard.
"What more can I do to encourage you? Would you like the curtain toskulk behind?"
And I threw the window-hangings over the foot of the sofa, but so that Iheld him still in view. Calm as I was, I must have been mad to playwith my life so contemptuously. Presently I rose, put back my hair andturned away, as in weariness.
"I fear your appetite is cloyed with the writhings of cats and dogs. Orhas murder no relish for you, unless it be in cold blood? But there, Iam tired of you: you have so little variety. We will send you back toCorsica, and write 'Rimbecco' on you."
He sprang at me madly, gnashing his teeth, and whirling his stiletto. Ifaced him just in time, with both hands by my side. Had I raised them,or shown the least sign of fear, my life would have followed my father'sthen and there.
"Yes," I said, while he paused, with the weapon not a yard from me, "aspirited attempt, considering what you are. But waste of time andtrouble. However, I have hit the word which seems to suit your views.Allow me to repeat the agreeable term, 'Rimbecco.'"
I saw in his eyes the flash which shows the momentum given, but his armfell powerless. He looked even humbly at me.
"Clara Vaughan--"
"Be kind enough to address me properly."
"Miss Vaughan, you must have some powerful reason for wishing to be ridof life." He tried to look piercingly at me.
"You are quite mistaken. It is nothing more than contempt of an abjectcoward and murderer."
"To you I will make no attempt to justify myself. You could notunderstand me. Your ways of thought are wholly different."
"I beg leave to hope so. Don't come near me, if you please."
"If I have injured you in ignorance, I will do my best to make amends.What course do you propose?"
"To let you go free, in pity for your abject nature and cowardice. Wescorn you too much for anything else."
This seemed to amaze him more than all before. It was plain that hecould not believe me. A long silence ensued. Looking at the wilywretch, I began unwittingly to compare, or rather to contrast his noblevictim with him. I thought of the deep affliction and misery wrought byhis despicable revenge. I thought of his brutal cruelty to the poorcreatures God has given us; and a rancour like his own began to move inmy troubled heart. It had been there all the while, no doubt, but alarger pressure had stilled it. Watching me intently, he saw the changein my countenance, and as cold disdain grew flushed with anger, my powerover him departed. But he did not let me perceive it. I am sure that Imight have gone whither and when I pleased, and he would have feared tofollow me, if I had only regarded him to the end with no other emotionthan scorn.
"Am I to understand," he said at last, "that you intend to do nothing tome?"
"It is not worth our while to hang you. For such a crime any otherpunishment would be an outrage and a jest. You slew a good and a gentleman; one as brave as you are cowardly. By the same blow you destroyedhis wife, who lingered for a few years, pining till she died. Both ofthese were dear to God. He will avenge them in His good time. Only onething we shall insist on, that you leave this country immediately, andunder a solemn oath never to return to it. One good point you have, Iam told--fidelity to your word."
"And if I refuse, what then?"
"Then you die a murderer's death. We have evidence you little dreamof."
He had now recovered his presence of mind, and his
scoffing manner; andall his plan was formed.
"What a brave young lady you are to come here all alone, andentertaining so low an opinion of the poor Professor."
"The very reason why I scorned precautions." A deep gleam shot throughthe darkness of his eyes.
"You must indeed despise me, to come here without telling any one!"
"Of course. But I did not mean to come, till my father's spirit ledme."
With a shudder he glanced all round the room. Lily was not mistakenwhen she called him superstitious. Then he tried to sneer it off.
"And did the good Papa, dear to God, undertake to escort you back?"Seeing that I disdained to answer, he continued thus: "You havedisplayed much graceful and highly-becoming scorn. I, in turn, willexhibit some little contempt of you. You were pleased to say, if mymemory serves me, that you had some wonderful evidence. I will furnishyou with more, and perhaps what you little dream of. Approach, andexamine this box."
He raised the lid of the oaken chest, and propped it with a staple.Quite thrown off my guard for the moment, I began to devour the contentswith my eyes. Not many things were in it; but all of them wereremarkable. To me they looked like theatrical properties, or materialsfor disguise. Some of them were faded and tarnished; some were set witha silver cross. My gaze was rivetted on a pair of boots, fixed in aledge with horse-shoe bays; on the sole of one I perceived a cross ofmetal inlaid; I drew nearer to see it more closely, when something fellover my head. All down me, and round me, and twisted behind in a tight_tourniquet_, before I could guess what it was. I am not weak, for agirl; but I could no more lift my arms than a swathed mummy can.Neither could I kick, although as a child I had been famous for thataccomplishment; if I lifted either foot, I must tumble head-foremostinto the box, which was large enough for me to live in. Scream I could,and did, in spite of all my valour, not only from fright, but from pain,for my chest was dreadfully tightened; but before I could scream morethan twice, a cloth was passed over my mouth, and knotted behind myneck. So there I stood, a helpless prisoner, in the recess at the endof the oaken ark. A low laugh thrilled in my ears, but the hand on myspine relaxed not; I turned my neck by a violent effort and met thedemon's eyes.
"Very pretty you look, young lady, very pretty indeed. I must have akiss before I have done with you, in spite of all indignation. There isa dress resembling this among the Tartar tribes. Did I hurt your proud,straight nose? If so, accept most humble apologies. I would not injureit for the world; it does express so much scorn. Take care, my child,your eyelashes are coming through the worsted."
Yes. Ignoble confession! I, for whose disdain the world had been toosmall, was prisoned and helpless in an "anti-macassar," like a fly in apaper cage-trap. The sofa, on which I had lain so grandly defying myenemy, was covered with a stout worsted net, long and very strong: thishe had doubled end to end, and flung over my haughty head. I have notpatience to recount his paltry, bantering jeers. Contempt is a tool Iam used to grasp by the handle only. Be it enough to say that, withoutreleasing me, he rang the bell for Cora, whose greedy eyes glistenedwhen she saw my gordit loose from my bosom, and tangled in the net. Hermaster allowed her to disengage, and, for the time at least, appropriateit. In return for this, she was, at his pleasure, to stab me if heshould order it. By his directions, she tied my ankles together, whilehe lashed my arms anew, and tightened the muffler over my bleeding lips.I closed my eyes, and prayed; then I made up my mind to die, as many aVaughan had done, at the hands of a brutal enemy. My last thought wasof Conrad, and then my senses forsook me.
Clara Vaughan, Volume 3 (of 3) Page 17
