Hatchie, the Guardian Slave Part 47

"O, but, my dear sir, you will not grumble! Your sense of justice will enable you to perceive the equity of this division."

"Enough of this! I am in no humor for jesting," said Jaspar, with a frown.

"Jesting!" exclaimed the attorney, with a well-made gesture of astonishment; "I was never more in earnest in my life."

"May I be allowed to inquire the name of your intended bride?" sneered Jaspar.

"A very proper question; and, considering our intimate friends.h.i.+p, a very natural one. Although my intention is a profound secret, and one I should not like to have go abroad at present, especially as her nearest of kin might possibly object, still I shall venture to inform _you_, since you are to have the honor of providing the means of carrying my matrimonial designs into effect."

"I am certainly under obligations for your favorable consideration. But the lady's name?"

"Miss Emily Dumont! a beautiful creature--high-spirited--every way worthy--"

"d.a.m.nation! this is too much," growled Jaspar, fiercely, as he seized the pistol which lay near him, and levelled it at De Guy. "You cursed villain! You and I must cry quits!"

"Do not miss your aim!" coolly returned the attorney, drawing from his pocket a revolver. "Miss not your aim, or the fortune is _all_ mine."

Jaspar was overcome by the coolness of De Guy, and, throwing down the pistol, he sank back into his chair, overpowered by the violence of his emotions.

"De Guy!" said he; "fiend! devil! you were born to torment me. There is no hotter h.e.l.l than thine! Do thy work. I must bear all,"--and Jaspar felt that he was sold to the fiend before him.

"My dear sir, do not distress yourself," replied the attorney, resuming his supercilious manner, which he had laid aside in the moment of peril.

"I offer you the means of safety. You will escape all the dangers that lower over you by my plan, which, I am glad to see, you perfectly understand."

"And lose the price for which I sold my soul? Even Judas had his forty pieces of silver--the more fool he, to throw them away! I could not do this thing, if I would. My soul is bound to my money."

"Pshaw! do not let avarice be your besetting sin. It is a vice too mean for your n.o.ble nature."

Jaspar tried to sneer again, but the muscles refused to perform their office. He stood like a convicted demon before his sulphurous master.

"It must be done," said De Guy; "there is no other way."

Jaspar heard the words, and struggled to avoid the conclusion towards which they pointed. The demon bade him yield, and the command was imperative. He could not resist--his will was gone.

"What are the details of your plan?" gasped he, faintly.

"Marry the lady, and take up my abode in this mansion," replied the attorney, promptly.

"And turn me out of doors! Well, be it so. I must do as you will."

"Nay, nay, my dear sir; you wrong me. You shall still be the honored inmate of our dwelling,--the affectionate uncle of your Emily, as of old," said the attorney, with infinite good humor.

Jaspar had well-nigh recovered his self-possession under the stroke of this, to him, severe satire; but De Guy gave him no time.

"We must proceed in some haste," continued the attorney, seizing a pen, and writing as he spoke. "My time is short, and I have already been somewhat lavish of it. Here, sign this paper; it is your consent to my union with your niece. Call some one to witness it."

Jaspar signed the certificate, without reading it. A witness was called, and the paper in due form was deposited in De Guy's pocket.

"Now, sir, the lady is not altogether willing to consent to this arrangement; but you must persuade her, and, if need be, compel her, to consent. She will be here in a few days. After the marriage, it will only remain for me to make over to you one-third of the property, which, as her husband, I can then legally do. Be firm, and behave like a man, and your troubles are ended. Everything will be hushed up, and you can spend the evening of your days in peace and quiet. I bid you good-day."

The attorney formally and politely ushered himself out of the library, and took his departure for New Orleans.

CHAPTER XXVII.

"Jaffier, you're free; but these must wait for judgment."

OTWAY.

We left Dalhousie engaged in the seemingly hopeless task of undermining the wall of the slave jail, at which he labored for several hours, resting at intervals, as his exhausted frame demanded. The prospect of realizing his hope encouraged him, and lent an artificial strength to his arm. He had already excavated a pit several feet in depth, but had not reached the bottom of the foundation wall. The quant.i.ty of earth piled upon the brink of the pit required extra exertion to remove it, but he toiled on with the energy of despair.

After laboring several hours more, he discovered, to his great joy, the bottom of the foundation. Again he plied the spade, and, by almost superhuman exertions, he succeeded in excavating a hole under the stones, which, below the surface of the ground, were not laid in mortar.

After loosening all the small stones around a larger one, he found that he could pry it out, which, with much labor, he accomplished. The removal of the other stones was comparatively an easy task, and a little time sufficed to clear a s.p.a.ce up to the solid masonry.

But here a new difficulty presented itself. The hole he had dug was already half filled with the stones he had tumbled from their positions.

His strength was not sufficient to remove them, and he was compelled to dig again, in order to prosecute his labors.

The wall removed, he commenced digging outside of the foundation wall.

Patiently he dug down to obtain sufficient room for the deposit of earth from the outside. Slowly and laboriously he undermined the ground, till the surface above him caved in, and--joy to his panting soul!--the air, the pure air of heaven, rushed in through the aperture! Hastily enlarging the cavity, and removing the earth to the inside, he ascended to the surface of the ground. A feeling of grat.i.tude thrilled through his frame, as he once more inhaled the free air of heaven, that he had escaped the terrible fate which a few hours before had seemed inevitable.

With faltering step,--for now that his Herculean task was accomplished, the reality of his weakened physical condition was painfully apparent,--he walked round the jail, to satisfy himself that no one was in the vicinity. The sun was set, and the shades of night were gathering upon the earth. The time was favorable for his escape. Having satisfied himself that he was un.o.bserved, he hastened to the garden, which was close at hand, to procure the means of invigorating his own body, and restoring to life and animation the partner of his captivity. Fruit of various kinds--melons, figs--rewarded his anxious search. Filling his handkerchief with cantelopes and figs, he hastened back to the jail, with all the speed his weary limbs would permit. His thoughts were fixed upon his wife, whose suffering had pierced his soul more deeply than all the anxiety and doubt he had experienced on his own account. As he tottered along, he asked himself if he should eat of the fruit he carried ere she had tasted of the banquet. He drew one of the rosy-cheeked, juicy figs from the handkerchief. It was no loss of time--no deferring of the succor she needed--to eat as he walked; run he could not, though he fain would have quickened his tardy pace. It would restore his strength, and enable him the better to protect and rescue her. It was not wrong, though, from the deep well of his affection, came up something like a reproach for his selfishness. He ate the fruit. The effect was, or seemed to be, magical. He thought he could feel it imparting strength to his exhausted form. Again he ate, and in the pleasant sensation to his unsated palate, his imagination, as much as the fruit, nerved his muscles, and he walked with a firmer step.

He had not completed one-half the distance back, when he discovered two men in the vicinity of the jail. A cold shudder nearly paralyzed him.

Was his labor all in vain? Had he with so much trial and suffering effected his escape, only to be incarcerated again? The thought was maddening, and he resolved to die rather than be returned to the dungeon.

Drawing a revolver from his pocket, with which he had prudently prepared himself before his interview with Jaspar, he proceeded on his way.

On a nearer approach, the men appeared to be strangers to him. They might, however, be in the employ of Jaspar. They might be engaged in watching over his captivity.

He approached nearer. He had never seen either of them before. They did not look like men whom Jaspar would have been likely to select for such a purpose as he apprehended. Still, he took the precaution to examine the caps upon his pistol, and have his bowie-knife in a convenient place for immediate use.

Dalhousie was the first to speak.

"Your business here?" demanded he, regardless of the courtesy to which he had been all his life accustomed.

"The fact on 'tis," replied one of the strangers, a little startled by the rude manner of Dalhousie, "the fact on 'tis, we are lookin' arter the mansion of a Mr. Dumont. Perhaps you will oblige us by tellin' us which way to go."

"He lives in yonder house," replied Dalhousie, pointing it out.

The simplicity of the speaker dissipated his apprehensions, and his curiosity was excited.

"You know him, do you?" continued he.

"Well, no--I can't say I do."