Oh! when she's angry, she is keen and shrewdShe was a vixen when she went to school;And though she is but little she is fierce.—SHAKESPEARE
It was quite late in the evening when Jem, her messenger, returned.
"Have you an answer?" she impetuously demanded, rising to meet him as he entered.
"Yes, miss, here it is," replied the boy, handing a neatly folded, highly perfumed little note.
"Go," said Cap, curtly, as she received it.
And when the boy had bowed and withdrawn, she threw herself into a chair, and with little respect for the pretty device of the pierced heart with which the note was sealed, she tore it open and devoured its contents.
Why did Capitola's cheeks and lips blanch white as death? Why did her eyes contract and glitter like stilettoes? Why was her breath drawn hard and laboriously through clenched teeth and livid lips?
That note was couched in the most insulting terms.
Capitola's first impulse was to rend the paper to atoms and grind those atoms to powder beneath her heel. But a second inspiration changed her purpose.
"No—no—no! I will not destroy you, precious little note! No legal document involving the ownership of the largest estate, no cherished love letter filled with vows of undying affection, shall be more carefully guarded! Next to my heart shall you lie. My shield and buckler shall you be! My sure defense and justification! I know what to do with you, my precious little jewel! You are the warrant for the punishment of that man, signed by his own hand." And so saying Capitola carefully deposited the note in her bosom.
Then she lighted her chamber lamp, and, taking it with her, went down-stairs to her uncle's bedroom.
Taking advantage of the time when she knew he would be absorbed in a game of chess with John Stone, and she would be safe from interruption for several hours if she wished, she went to Major Warfield's little armory in the closet adjoining his room, opened his pistol case and took from it a pair of revolvers, closed and locked the case, and withdrew and hid the key that they might not chance to be missed until she should have time to replace them.
Then she hurried back into her own chamber, locked the pistols up in her own drawer, and, wearied out with so much excitement, prepared to go to rest. Here a grave and unexpected obstacle met her; she had always been accustomed to kneel and offer up to heaven her evening's tribute of praise and thanksgiving for the mercies of the day, and prayers for protection and blessing through the night.
Now she knelt as usual, but thanksgiving and prayer seemed frozen on her lips! How could she praise or pray with such a purpose as she had in her heart?
For the first time Capitola doubted the perfect righteousness of that purpose which was of a character to arrest her prayers upon her lips.
With a start of impatience and a heavy sigh, she sprang up and hurried into bed.
She did not sleep, but lay tossing from side to side in feverish excitement the whole night—having, in fact, a terrible battle between her own fierce passions and her newly awakened conscience.
Nevertheless, she arose by daybreak in the morning, dressed herself, went and unlocked her drawer, took out the pistols, carefully loaded them, and laid them down for service.
Then she went down-stairs, where the servants were only just beginning to stir, and sent for her groom, Jem, whom she ordered to saddle her pony, and also to get a horse for himself, to attend her in a morning ride.
After which she returned up-stairs, put on her riding habit, and buckled around her waist a morocco belt, into which she stuck the two revolvers. She then threw around her shoulders a short circular cape that concealed the weapons, and put on her hat and gloves and went below.
She found her little groom already at the door with the horses. She sprang into her saddle, and, bidding Jem follow her, took the road toward Tip-Top.
She knew that Mr. Le Noir was in the habit of riding to the village every morning, and she determined to meet him. She knew, from the early hour of the day, that he could not possibly be ahead of her, and she rode on slowly to give him an opportunity to overtake her.
Probably Craven Le Noir was later that morning than usual, for Capitola had reached the entrance of the village before she heard the sound of his horse's feet approaching behind her.
She did not wish that their encounter should be in the streets of the village, so she instantly wheeled her horse and galloped back to meet him.
As both were riding at full speed, they soon met.
She first drew rein, and, standing in his way, accosted him with:
"Mr. Le Noir!"
"Your most obedient, Miss Black!" he said, with a deep bow.
"I happen to be without father or brother to protect me from affront, sir, and my uncle is an invalid veteran whom I will not trouble! I am, therefore, under the novel necessity of fighting my own battles! Yesterday, sir, I sent you a note demanding satisfaction for a heinous slander you circulated against me! You replied by an insulting note. You do not escape punishment so! Here are two pistols; both are loaded; take either one of them; for, sir, we have met, and now we do not part until one of us falls from the horse!"
And so saying, she rode up to him and offered him the choice of the pistols.
He laughed—partly in surprise and partly in admiration, as he said, with seeming good humor:
"Miss Black, you are a very charming young woman, and delightfully original and piquant in all your ideas; but you outrage all the laws that govern the duello. You know that, as the challenged party, I have the right to the choice of time, place and arms. I made that choice yesterday. I renew it to-day. When you accede to the terms of the meeting I shall endeavor to give you all the satisfaction you demand! Good-morning, miss."
And with a deep bow, even to the flaps of his saddle, he rode past her.
"That base insult again!" cried Capitola, with the blood rushing to her face.
Then lifting her voice, she again accosted him: "Mr. Le Noir!"
He turned, with a smile.
She threw one of the pistols on the ground near him, saying: "Take that up and defend yourself."
He waved his hand in negation, bowed, smiled, and rode on.
"Mr. Le Noir!" she called, in a peremptory tone.
Once more he turned.
She raised her pistol, took deliberate aim at his white forehead, and fired—
Bang! bang! bang! bang! bang! bang!
Six times without an instant's intermission, until her revolver was spent.
When the smoke cleared away, a terrible vision met her eyes!
It was Craven Le Noir with his face covered with blood, reeling in his saddle, from which he soon dropped to the ground.
In falling his foot remained in the hanging stirrup. The well-trained cavalry horse stood perfectly still, though trembling in a panic of terror, from which he might at any moment start to run, dragging the helpless body after him.
Capitola saw this danger, and not being cruel, she tempered justice with mercy, threw down her spent pistol, dismounted from her horse, went up to the fallen man, disengaged his foot from the stirrup, and, taking hold of his shoulders, tried with all her might to drag the still breathing form from the dusty road where it lay in danger of being run over by wagons, to the green bank, where it might lie in comparative safety.
But that heavy form was too much for her single strength. And, calling her terrified groom to assist her, they removed the body.
Capitola then remounted her horse and galloped rapidly into the village, and up to the "ladies' entrance" of the hotel, where, after sending for the proprietor she said:
"I have just been shooting Craven Le Noir for slandering me; he lies by the roadside at the entrance of the village; you had better send somebody to pick him up."
"Miss!" cried the astonished inn-keeper.
Capitola distinctly repeated her words and then, leaving the inn-keeper, transfixed with consternation, she crossed the street and entered a magistrate's office, where a little, old gentleman, with a pair of green spectacles resting on his hooked nose, sat at a writing-table, giving some directions to a constable, who was standing hat in hand before him.
Capitola waited until this functionary had his orders and a written paper, and had left the office, and the magistrate was alone, before she walked up to the desk and stood before him.
"Well, well, young woman! Well, well, what do you want?" inquired the old gentleman, impatiently looking up from folding his papers.
"I have come to give myself up for shooting Craven Le Noir, who slandered me," answered Capitola, quietly.
The old man let fall his hands full of papers, raised his head and stared at her over the tops of his green spectacles.
"What did you say, young woman?" he asked, in the tone of one who doubted his own ears.
"I say that I have forestalled an arrest by coming here to give myself up for the shooting of a dastard who slandered, insulted and refused to give me satisfaction," answered Capitola, very distinctly.
"Am I awake? Do I hear aright? Do you mean to say that you have killed a man?" asked the dismayed magistrate.
"Oh, I can't say as to the killing! I shot him off his horse and then sent Mr. Merry and his men to pick him up, while I came here to answer for myself!"
"Unfortunate girl! And how can you answer for such a dreadful deed?" exclaimed the utterly confounded magistrate.
"Oh, as to the dreadfulness of the deed, that depends on circumstances," said Cap, "and I can answer for it very well! He made addresses to me. I refused him. He slandered me. I challenged him. He insulted me. I shot him!"
"Miserable young woman, if this be proved true, I shall have to commit you!"
"Just as you please," said Cap, "but bless your soul, that won't help Craven Le Noir a single bit!"
As she spoke several persons entered the office in a state of high excitement—all talking at once, saying:
"That is the girl!"
"Yes, that is her!"
"She is Miss Black, old Warfield's niece."
"Yes, he said she was," etc., etc., etc.
"What is all this, neighbors, what is all this?" inquired the troubled magistrate, rising in his place.
"Why, sir, there's been a gentleman, Mr. Craven Le Noir, shot. He has been taken to the Antlers, where he lies in articulus mortis, and we wish him to be confronted with Miss Capitola Black, the young woman here present, that he may identify her, whom he accuses of having shot six charges into him, before his death. She needn't deny it, because he is ready to swear to her!" said Mr. Merry, who constituted himself spokesman.
"She accuses herself," said the magistrate, in dismay.
"Then, sir, had she not better be taken at once to the presence of Mr. Le Noir, who may not have many minutes to live?"
"Yes, come along," said Cap. "I only gave myself up to wait for this; and as he is already at hand, let's go and have it all over, for I have been riding about in this frosty morning air for three hours, and I have got a good appetite, and I want to go home to breakfast."
"I am afraid, young woman, you will scarcely get home to breakfast this morning," said Mr. Merry.
"We'll see that presently," answered Cap, composedly, as they all left the office, and crossed the street to the Antlers.
They were conducted by the landlord to a chamber on the first floor, where upon a bed lay stretched, almost without breath or motion, the form of Craven Le Noir. His face was still covered with blood, that the bystanders had scrupulously refused to wash off until the arrival of the magistrate. His complexion, as far as it could be seen, was very pale. He was thoroughly prostrated, if not actually dying.
Around his bed were gathered the village doctor, the landlady and several maid-servants.
"The squire has come, sir; are you able to speak to him?" asked the landlord, approaching the bed.
"Yes, let him swear me," feebly replied the wounded man, "and then send for a clergyman."
The landlady immediately left to send for Mr. Goodwin, and the magistrate approached the head of the bed, and, speaking solemnly, exhorted the wounded man, as he expected soon to give an account of the works done in his body, to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, without reserve, malice or exaggeration, both as to the deed and its provocation.
"I will I will—for I have sent for a minister and I intend to try to make my peace with heaven," replied Le Noir.
The magistrate then directed Capitola to come and take her stand at the foot of the bed, where the wounded man, who was lying on his back, could see her without turning.
Cap came as she was commanded and stood there with some irrepressible and incomprehensible mischief gleaming out from under her long eye-lashes and from the corners of her dimpled lips.
The magistrate then administered the oath to Craven Le Noir, and bade him look upon Capitola and give his evidence.
He did so, and under the terrors of a guilty conscience and of expected death, his evidence partook more of the nature of a confession than an accusation. He testified that he had addressed Capitola, and had been rejected by her; then, under the influence of evil motives, he had circulated insinuations against her honor, which were utterly unjustifiable by fact; she, seeming to have heard of them, took the strange course of challenging him—just as if she had been a man. He could not, of course, meet a lady in a duel, but he had taken advantage of the technical phraseology of the challenged party, as to time, place and weapons, to offer her a deep insult; then she had waylaid him on the highway, offered him his choice of a pair of revolvers, and told him that, having met, they should not part until one or the other fell from the horse; he had again laughingly refused the encounter except upon the insulting terms he had before proposed. She had then thrown him one of the pistols, bidding him defend himself. He had laughingly passed her when she called him by name, he had turned and she fired—six times in succession, and he fell. He knew no more until he was brought to his present room. He said in conclusion he did not wish that the girl should be prosecuted, as she had only avenged her own honor; and that he hoped his death would be taken by her and her friends as a sufficient expiation of his offenses against her; and, lastly he requested that he might be left alone with the minister.
"Bring that unhappy young woman over to my office, Ketchum," said the magistrate, addressing himself to a constable. Then turning to the landlord, he said:
"Sir, it would be a charity in you to put a messenger on horseback and send him to Hurricane Hall for Major Warfield, who will have to enter into a recognizance for Miss Black's appearance at court."
"Stop," said Cap, "don't be too certain of that! 'Be always sure you're right—then go ahead!' Is not any one here cool enough to reflect that if I had fired six bullets at that man's forehead and every one had struck, I should have blown his head to the sky? Will not somebody at once wash his face and see how deep the wounds are?"
The doctor who had been restrained by others now took a sponge and water and cleaned the face of Le Noir, which was found to be well peppered with split peas!
Cap looked around, and seeing the astonished looks of the good people, bust into an irrepressible fit of laughter, saying, as soon as she had got breath enough:
"Upon my word, neighbors, you look more shocked, if not actually more disappointed, to find that, after all he is not killed, and there'll be no spectacle, than you did at first when you thought murder had been done."
"Will you be good enough to explain this, young woman?" said the magistrate, severely.
"Certainly, for your worship seems as much disappointed as others!" said Cap. Then turning toward the group around the bed, she said:
"You have heard Mr. Le Noir's 'last dying speech and confession,' as he supposed it to be; and you know the maddening provocations that inflamed my temper against him. Last night, after having received his insulting answer to my challenge, there was evil in my heart, I do assure you! I possessed myself of my uncle's revolvers and resolved to waylay him this morning and force him to give me satisfaction, or if he refused—well, no matter! I tell you, there was danger in me! But, before retiring to bed at night, it is my habit to say my prayers; now the practice of prayer and the purpose of 'red-handed violence' cannot exist in the same person at the same time! I wouldn't sleep without praying, and I couldn't pray without giving up my thoughts of fatal vengeance upon Craven Le Noir. So at last I made up my mind to spare his life, and teach him a lesson. The next morning I drew the charges of the revolvers and reloaded them with poor powder and dried peas! Everything else has happened just as he has told you! He has received no harm, except in being terribly frightened, and in having his beauty spoiled! And as for that, didn't I offer him one of the pistols, and expose my own face to similar damage? For I'd scorn to take advantage of any one!" said Cap, laughing.
Craven Le Noir had now raised himself up in a sitting posture, and was looking around with an expression of countenance which was a strange blending of relief at this unexpected respite from the grave, and intense mortification at finding himself in the ridiculous position which the address of Capitola and his own weak nerves, cowardice and credulity had placed him.
Cap went up to him and said, in a consoling voice:
"Come, thank heaven that you are not going to die this bout! I'm glad you repented and told the truth; and I hope you may live long enough to offer heaven a truer repentance than that which is the mere effect of fright! For I tell you plainly that if it had not been for the grace of the Lord, acting upon my heart last night, your soul might have been in Hades now!"
Craven Le Noir shut his eyes, groaned and fell back overpowered by the reflection.
"Now, please your worship, may I go home?" asked Cap, demurely, popping down a mock courtesy to the magistrate.
"Yes—go! go! go! go! go!" said that officer, with an expression as though he considered our Cap an individual of the animal kingdom whom neither Buffon nor any other natural philosopher had ever classified, and who, as a creature of unknown habits, might sometimes be dangerous.
Cap immediately availed herself of the permission, and went out to look for her servant and horses.
But Jem, the first moment he had found himself unwatched, had put out as fast as he could fly to Hurricane Hall, to inform Major Warfield of what had occurred.
And Capitola, after losing a great deal of time in looking for him, mounted her horse and was just about to start, when who should ride up in hot haste but Old Hurricane, attended by Wool.
"Stop there!" he shouted, as he saw Cap.
She obeyed, and he sprang from his horse with the agility of youth, and helped her to descend from hers.
Then drawing her arm within his own, he led her into the parlor, and, putting an unusual restraint upon himself, he ordered her to tell him all about the affair.
Cap sat down and gave him the whole history from beginning to end.
Old Hurricane could not sit still to hear. He strode up and down the room, striking his stick upon the floor, and uttering inarticulate sounds of rage and defiance.
When Cap had finished her story he suddenly stopped before her, brought down the point of his stick with a resounding thump upon the floor and exclaimed:
"Demmy, you New York newsboy! Will you never be a woman? Why the demon didn't you tell me, sirrah? I would have called the fellow out and chastised him to your heart's content! Hang it, miss, answer me and say!"
"Because you are on the invalid list and I am in sound condition and capable of taking my own part!" said Cap.
"Then, answer me this, while you were taking your own part, why the foul fiend didn't you pepper him with something sharper than dried peas?"
"I think he is quite as severely punished in suffering from extreme terror and intense mortification and public ridicule," said Cap.
"And now, uncle, I have not eaten a single blessed mouthful this morning, and I am hungry enough to eat up Gyp, or to satisfy Patty."
Old Hurricane, permitting his excitement to subside in a few expiring grunts, rang the bell and gave orders for breakfast to be served.
And after that meal was over he set out with his niece for Hurricane Hall.
And upon arriving at home he addressed a letter to Mr. Le Noir, to the effect that as soon as the latter should have recovered from the effect of his fright and mortification, he, Major Warfield, should demand and expect satisfaction.
Who can express the horror of that night,When darkness lent his robes to monster fear?And heaven's black mantle, banishing the light,Made everything in fearful form appear.—BRANDON.
Let it not be supposed that Black Donald had forgotten his promise to Colonel Le Noir, or was indifferent to its performance.
But many perilous failures had taught him caution.
He had watched and waylaid Capitola in her rides. But the girl seemed to bear a charmed safety; for never once had he caught sight of her except in company with her groom and with Craven Le Noir. And very soon by eavesdropping on these occasions, he learned the secret design of the son to forestall the father, and run off with the heiress.
And as Black Donald did not foresee what success Craven Le Noir might have with Capitola, he felt the more urgent necessity for prompt action on his own part.
He might, indeed, have brought his men and attacked and overcome Capitola's attendants, in open day; but the enterprise must needs have been attended with great bloodshed and loss of life, which would have made a sensation in the neighborhood that Black Donald, in the present state of his fortunes, was by no means ambitious of daring.
In a word, had such an act of unparalleled violence been attempted, the better it succeeded the greater would have been the indignation of the people, and the whole country would probably have risen and armed themselves and hunted the outlaws, as so many wild beasts, with horses and hounds.
Therefore, Black Donald preferred quietly to abduct his victim, so as to leave no trace of her "taking off," but to allow it to be supposed that she had eloped.
He resolved to undertake this adventure alone, though to himself personally this plan was even more dangerous than the other.
He determined to gain access to her chamber, secrete himself anywhere in the room (except under the bed, where his instincts informed him that Capitola every night looked), and when the household should be buried in repose, steal out upon her, overpower, gag and carry her off, in the silence of the night, leaving no trace of his own presence behind.
By means of one of his men, who went about unsuspected among the negroes, buying up mats and baskets, that the latter were in the habit of making for sale, he learned that Capitola occupied the same remote chamber, in the oldest part of the house; but that a guest slept in the room next, and another in the one opposite hers. And that the house was besides full of visitors from the city, who had come down to spend the sporting season, and that they were hunting all day and carousing all night from one week's end to another.
On hearing this, Black Donald quickly comprehended that it was no time to attempt the abduction of the maiden, with the least probability of success. All would be risked and most probably lost in the endeavor.
He resolved, therefore, to wait until the house should be clear of company, and the household fallen into their accustomed carelessness and monotony.
He had to wait much longer than he had reckoned upon—through October and through November, when he first heard of and laughed over Cap's "duel" with Craven Le Noir, and congratulated himself upon the fact that that rival was no longer to be feared. He had also to wait through two-thirds of the month of December, because a party had come down to enjoy a short season of fox-hunting. They went away just before Christmas.
And then at last came Black Donald's opportunity! And a fine opportunity it was! Had Satan himself engaged to furnish him with one to order, it could not have been better!
The reader must know that throughout Virginia the Christmas week, from the day after Christmas until the day after New-year, is the negroes' saturnalia! There are usually eight days of incessant dancing, feasting and frolicking from quarter to quarter, and from barn to barn. Then the banjo, the fiddle and the "bones" are heard from morning until night, and from night until morning.
And nowhere was this annual octave of festivity held more sacred than at Hurricane Hall. It was the will of Major Warfield that they should have their full satisfaction out of their seven days' carnival. He usually gave a dinner party on Christmas day, after which his people were free until the third of January.
"Demmy, mum!" he would say to Mrs. Condiment, "they wait on us fifty-one weeks in the year, and it's hard if we can't wait on ourselves the fifty-second!"
Small thanks to Old Hurricane for his self-denial! He did nothing for himself or others, and Mrs. Condiment and Capitola had a hot time of it in serving him. Mrs. Condiment had to do all the cooking and housework. And Cap had to perform most of the duties of Major Warfield's valet. And that was the way in which Old Hurricane waited on himself.
It happened, therefore, that about the middle of the Christmas week, being Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of December, all the house-servants and farm laborers from Hurricane. Hall went off in a body to a banjo break-down given at a farm five miles across the country.
And Major Warfield, Mrs. Condiment and Capitola were the only living beings left in the old house that night.
Black Donald, who had been prowling about the premises evening after evening, watching his opportunity to effect his nefarious object, soon discovered the outward bound stampede of the negroes, and the unprotected state in which the old house, for that night only, would be left. And he determined to take advantage of the circumstance to consummate his wicked purpose.
In its then defenceless condition he could easily have mustered his force and carried off his prize without immediate personal risk. But, as we said before, he eschewed violence, as being likely to provoke after effects of a too fatal character.
He resolved rather at once to risk his own personal safety in the quieter plan of abduction which he had formed.
He determined that as soon as it should be dark he would watch his opportunity to enter the house, steal to Cap's chamber, secrete himself in a closet, and when all should be quiet, "in the dead waste and middle of the night," he would come out, master her, stop her mouth and carry her off.
When it became quite dark he approached the house, and hid himself under the steps beneath the back door leading from the hall into the garden, to watch his opportunity of entering. He soon found that his enterprise required great patience as well as courage. He had to wait more than two hours before he heard the door unlocked and opened.
He then peered out from his hiding-place and saw old Hurricane taking his way out towards the garden.
Now was his time to slip unperceived into the house. He stealthily came out from his hiding-place, crept up the portico stairs to the back door, noiselessly turned the latch, entered and closed it behind him. He had just time to open a side door on his right hand and conceal himself in a wood closet under the stairs, when he heard the footsteps of Old Hurricane returning.
The old man came in and Black Donald laughed to himself to hear with what caution he locked, bolted and barred the doors to keep out house-breakers!
"Ah, old fellow, you are fastening the stable after the horse has been stolen!" said Black Donald to himself.
As soon as old Hurricane had passed by the closet in which the outlaw was concealed, and had gone into the parlor, Black Donald determined to risk the ascent into Capitola's chamber. From the description given by his men, who had once succeeded in finding their way thither, he knew very well where to go.
Noiselessly, therefore, he left his place of concealment and crept out to reconnoitre the hall, which he found deserted.
Old Hurricane's shawl, hat and walking stick were deposited in one corner. In case of being met on the way, he put the hat on his head, wrapped the shawl around his shoulders, and took the stick in his hand.
His forethought proved to be serviceable. He went through the hall and up the first flight of stairs without interruption; but on going along the hall of the second story he met Mrs. Condiment coming out of Old Hurricane's room.
"Your slippers are on the hearth, your gown is at the fire and the kettle is boiling to make your punch, Major Warfield," said the old lady in passing.
"Umph! umph! umph!" grunted Black Donald in reply.
The housekeeper then bade him good-night, saying that she was going at once to her room.
"Umph!" assented Black Donald. And so they parted and this peril was passed.
Black Donald went up the second flight of stairs and then down a back passage and a narrow staircase and along a corridor and through several untenanted rooms, and into another passage, and finally through a side door leading into Capitola's chamber.
Here he looked around for a safe hiding-place—there was a high bedstead curtained; two deep windows also curtained; two closets, a dressing bureau, workstand, washstand and two arm chairs. The forethought of little Pitapat had caused her to kindle a fire on the hearth and place a waiter of refreshments on the workstand, so as to make all comfortable before she had left with the other negroes to go to the banjo breakdown.
Among the edibles Pitapat had been careful to leave a small bottle of brandy, a pitcher of cream, a few eggs and some spice, saying to herself, "Long as it was Christmas time Miss Caterpillar might want a sup of egg nog quiet to herself, jes' as much as old marse did his whiskey punch"—and never fancying that her young mistress would require a more delicate lunch than her old master.
Black Donald laughed as he saw this outlay, and remarking that the young occupant of the chamber must have an appetite of her own, he put the neck of the brandy bottle to his lips and took what he called "a heavy swig."
Then vowing that old Hurricane knew what good liquor was, he replaced the bottle and looked around to find the best place for his concealment.
He soon determined to hide himself behind the thick folds of the window curtain, nearest the door, so that immediately after the entrance of Capitola he could glide to the door, lock it, withdraw the key and have the girl at once in his power.
He took a second "swig" at the brandy bottle and then went into his place of concealment to wait events.
That same hour Capitola was her uncle's partner in a prolonged game of chess. It was near eleven o'clock before Cap, heartily tired of the battle, permitted herself to be beaten in order to get to bed.
With a satisfied chuckle, Old Hurricane arose from his seat, lighted two bed-chamber lamps, gave one to Capitola, took the other himself, and started off for his room, followed by Cap as far as the head of the first flight of stairs, where she bade him good night.
She waited until she saw him enter his room, heard him lock his door on the inside and throw himself down heavily into his arm chair, and then she went on her own way.
She hurried up the second flight of stairs and along the narrow passages, empty rooms, and steep steps and dreary halls, until she reached the door of her own dormitory.
She turned the latch and entered the room.
The first thing that met her sight was the waiter of provisions upon the stand. And at this fresh instance of her little maid's forethought, she burst into a uncontrollable fit of laughter.
She did not see a dark figure glide from behind the window curtains, steal to the door, turn the lock and withdraw the key!
But still retaining her prejudice against the presence of food in her bed-chamber, she lifted up the waiter in both hands to cany it out into the passage, turned and stood face to face with—Black Donald!
Out of this nettle, danger,I'll pluck the flower, safety!—SHAKESPEARE.
Capitola's blood seemed turned to ice, and her form to stone by the sight! Her first impulse was to scream and let fall the waiter! She controlled herself and repressed the scream though she was very near dropping the waiter.
Black Donald looked at her and laughed aloud at her consternation, saying with a chuckle:
"You did not expect to see me here to-night, did you now, my dear?"
She gazed at him in a silent panic for a moment.
Then her faculties, that had been suddenly dispersed by the shock, as suddenly rallied to her rescue.
In one moment she understood her real position.
Black Donald had locked her in with himself and held the key—so she could not hope to get out.
The loudest scream that she might utter would never reach the distant chamber of Major Warfield, or the still more remote apartment of Mrs. Condiment; so she could not hope to bring any one to her assistance.
She was, therefore, entirely in the power of Black Donald. She fully comprehended this, and said to herself:
"Now, my dear Cap, if you don't look sharp your hour is come! Nothing on earth will save you, Cap, but your own wits! For if ever I saw mischief in any one's face, it is in that fellow's that is eating you up with his great eyes at the same time that he is laughing at you with his big mouth! Now, Cap, my little man, be a woman! Don't you stick at trifles! Think of Jael and Sisera! Think of Judith and Holofernes! And the devil and Doctor Faust, if necessary, and don't you blanch! All stratagems are fair in love and war—especially in war, and most especially in such a war as this is likely to be—a contest in close quarters for dear life!"
All this passed through her mind in one moment, and in the next her plan was formed.
Setting her waiter down upon the table and throwing herself into one of the armchairs, she said:
"Well, upon my word! I think a gentleman might let a lady know when he means to pay her a domiciliary visit at midnight!"
"Upon my word, I think you are very cool!" replied Black Donald, throwing himself into the second armchair on the other side of the stand of refreshments.
"People are likely to be cool on a December night, with the thermometer at zero, and the ground three feet under the snow," said Cap, nothing daunted.
"Capitola, I admire you! You are a cucumber! That's what you are, a cucumber!"
"A pickled one?" asked Cap.
"Yes, and as pickled cucumbers are good to give one an appetite, I think I shall fall to and eat."
"Do so," said Cap, "for heaven forbid that I should fail in hospitality!"
"Why, really, this looks as though you had expected a visitor—doesn't it?" asked Black Donald, helping himself to a huge slice of ham, and stretching his feet out toward the fire.
"Well, yes, rather; though, to say the truth, it was not your reverence I expected," said Cap.
"Ah! somebody else's reverence, eh? Well, let them come! I'll be ready for them!" said the outlaw, pouring out and quaffing a large glass of brandy. He drank it, set down the glass, and turning to our little heroine, inquired:
"Capitola did you ever have Craven Le Noir here to supper with you?"
"You insult me! I scorn to reply!" said Cap.
"Whe—ew! What long whiskers our Grimalkin's got! You scorn to reply! Then you really are not afraid of me?" asked the robber, rolling a great piece of cheese in his mouth.
"Afraid of you? No, I guess not!" replied Cap, with a toss of her head.
"Yet, I might do you some harm."
"But, you won't!"
"Why won't I?"
"Because it won't pay!"
"Why wouldn't it?"
"Because you couldn't do me any harm, unless you were to kill me, and you would gain nothing by my death, except a few trinkets that you may have without."
"Then, you are really not afraid of me?" he asked, taking another deep draught of brandy.
"Not a bit of it—I rather like you!"
"Come, now, you're running a rig upon a fellow," said the outlaw, winking and depositing a huge chunk of bread in his capacious jaws.
"No, indeed! I liked you, long before I ever saw you! I always did like people that make other people's hair stand on end! Don't you remember when you first came here disguised as a peddler, though I did not know who you were, when we were talking of Black Donald, and everybody was abusing him, except myself? I took his part and said that for my part I liked Black Donald and wanted to see him."
"Sure enough, my jewel, so you did! And didn't I bravely risk my life by throwing off my disguise to gratify your laudable wish?"
"So you did, my hero!"
"Ah, but well as you liked me, the moment you thought me in your power didn't you leap upon my shoulders like a catamount and cling there, shouting to all the world to come and help you, for you had caught Black Donald and would die before you would give him up? Ah! you little vampire, how you thirsted for my blood! And you pretended to like me!" said Black Donald, eying her from head to foot, with a sly leer.
Cap returned the look with interest. Dropping her head on one side, she glanced upward from the corner of her eye, with an expression of "infinite" mischief and roguery, saying:
"Lor, didn't you know why I did that?"
"Because you wanted me captured, I suppose."
"No, indeed, but, because—"
"Well, what?"
"Because I wanted you to carry me off!"
"Well, I declare! I never thought of that!" said the outlaw, dropping his bread and cheese, and staring at the young girl.
"Well, you might have thought of it then! I was tired of hum-drum life, and I wanted to see adventures!" said Cap.
Black Donald looked at the mad girl from head to foot and then said, coolly:
"Miss Black, I am afraid you are not good."
"Yes I am—before folks!" said Cap.
"And so you really wished me to carry you off?"
"I should think so! Didn't I stick to you until you dropped me?"
"Certainly! And now if you really like me as well as you say you do, come give me a kiss."
"I won't!" said Cap, "until you have done your supper and washed your face! Your beard is full of crumbs!"
"Very well, I can wait awhile! Meantime just brew me a bowl of egg-nog, by way of a night-cap, will you?" said the outlaw, drawing off his boots and stretching his feet to the fire.
"Agreed, but it takes two to make egg-nog; you'll have to whisk up the whites of the eggs into a froth, while I beat the yellows, and mix the other ingredients," said Cap.
"Just so," assented the outlaw, standing up and taking off his coat and flinging it upon the floor.
Cap shuddered, but went on calmly with her preparations. There were two little white bowls setting one within the other upon the table. Cap took them apart and set them side by side and began to break the eggs, letting the whites slip into one bowl and dropping the yellows into the other.
Black Donald sat down in his shirt sleeves, took one of the bowls from Capitola and began to whisk up the whites with all his might and main.
Capitola beat up the yellows, gradually mixing the sugar with it. In the course of her work she complained that the heat of the fire scorched her face, and she drew her chair farther to-wards the corner of the chimney, and pulled the stand after her.
"Oh, you are trying to get away from me," said Black Donald, hitching his own chair in the same direction, close to the stand, so that he sat immediately in front of the fireplace.
Cap smiled and went on beating her eggs and sugar together. Then she stirred in the brandy and poured in the milk and took the bowl from Black Donald and laid on the foam. Finally, she filled a goblet with the rich compound and handed it to her uncanny guest.
Black Donald untied his neck cloth, threw it upon the floor and sipped his egg-nog, all the while looking over the top of the glass at Capitola.
"Miss Black," he said, "it must be past twelve o'clock."
"I suppose it is," said Cap.
"Then it must be long past your usual hour of retiring."
"Of course it is," said Cap.
"Then what are you waiting for?"
"For my company to go home," replied Cap.
"Meaning me?"
"Meaning you."
"Oh, don't mind me, my dear."
"Very well," said Cap, "I shall not trouble myself about you," and her tones were steady, though her heart seemed turned into a ball of ice, through terror.
Black Donald went on slowly sipping his egg-nog, filling up his goblet when it was empty, and looking at Capitola over the top of his glass. At last he said:
"I have been watching you, Miss Black."
"Little need to tell me that," said Cap.
"And I have been reading you."
"Well, I hope the page was entertaining."
"Well, yes, my dear, it was, rather so. But why don't you proceed?"
"Proceed—with what?"
"With what you are thinking of, my darling."
"I don't understand you!"
"Why don't you offer to go down-stairs and bring up some lemons?"
"Oh, I'll go in a moment," said Cap, "if you wish."
"Ha—ha—ha—ha—ha! Of course you will, my darling! And you'd deliver me into the hands of the Philistines, just as you did my poor men when you fooled them about the victuals! I know your tricks and all your acting has no other effect on me than to make me admire your wonderful coolness and courage; so, my dear, stop puzzling your little head with schemes to baffle me! You are like the caged starling! You can't—get—out!" chuckled Black Donald, hitching his chair nearer to hers. He was now right upon the center of the rug.
Capitola turned very pale, but not with fear, though Black Donald thought she did, and roared with laughter.
"Have you done your supper?" she asked, with a sort of awful calmness.
"Yes my duck," replied the outlaw, pouring the last of the egg-nog into his goblet, drinking it at a draught and chuckling as he set down the glass.
Capitola then lifted the stand with the refreshments to remove it to its usual place.
"What are you going to do, my dear?" asked Black Donald.
"Clear away the things and set the room in order," said Capitola, in the same awfully calm tone.
"A nice little housewife you'll make, my duck!" said Black Donald.
Capitola set the stand in its corner and then removed her own armchair to its place before the dressing bureau.
Nothing now remained upon the rug except Black Donald seated in the armchair!
Capitola paused; her blood seemed freezing in her veins; her heart beat thickly; her throat was choked; her head full nearly to bursting, and her eyes were veiled by a blinding film.
"Come—come—my duck—make haste; it is late; haven't you done setting the room in order yet?" said Black Donald, impatiently.
"In one moment," said Capitola, coming behind his chair and leaning upon the back of it.
"Donald," she said, with dreadful calmness, "I will not now call you Black Donald! I will call you as your poor mother did, when your young soul was as white as your skin, before she ever dreamed her boy would grow black with crime! I will call you simply Donald, and entreat you to hear me for a few minutes."
"Talk on, then, but talk fast, and leave my mother alone! Let the dead rest!" exclaimed the outlaw, with a violent convulsion of his bearded chin and lip that did not escape the notice of Capitola, who hoped some good of this betrayal of feeling.
"Donald," she said, "men call you a man of blood; they say that your hand is red and your soul black with crime!"
"They may say what they like—I care not!" laughed the outlaw.
"But I do not believe all this of you! I believe that there is good in all, and much good in you; that there is hope for all, and strong hope for you!"
"Bosh! Stop talking poetry! 'Tain't in my line, nor yours either!" laughed Black Donald.
"But truth is in all our lines. Donald, I repeat it, men call you a man of blood! They say that your hands are red and your soul black with sin. Black Donald, they call you! But, Donald, you have never yet stained your soul with a crime as black as that which you think of perpetrating to-night!"
"It must be one o'clock, and I'm tired," replied the outlaw, with a yawn.
"All your former acts," continued Capitola, in the same voice of awful calmness, "have been those of a bold, bad man. This act would be that of a base one!"
"Take care, girl—no bad names! You are in my power—at my mercy!"
"I know my position, but I must continue. Hitherto you have robbed mail coaches and broken into rich men's houses. In doing thus you have always boldly risked your life, often at such fearful odds that men have trembled at their firesides to hear of it. And even women, while deploring your crimes, have admired your courage."
"I thank 'em kindly for it! Women always like men with a spice of the devil in them!" laughed the outlaw.
"No, they do not!" said Capitola, gravely. "They like men of strength, courage and spirit—but those qualities do not come from the Evil One, but from the Lord, who is the giver of all good. Your Creator, Donald, gave you the strength, courage and spirit that all men and women so much admire; but He did not give you these great powers that you might use them in the service of his enemy, the devil!"
"I declare there is really something in that! I never thought of that before."
"Nor ever thought, perhaps, that however misguided you may have been, there is really something great and good in yourself that might yet be used for the good of man and the glory of God!" said Capitola, solemnly.
"Ha, ha, ha! Oh, you flatterer! Come, have you done? I tell you it is after one o'clock, and I am tired to death!"
"Donald, in all your former acts of lawlessness your antagonists were strong men; and as you boldly risked your life in your depredations, your acts, though bad, were not base! But now your antagonist is a feeble girl, who has been unfortunate from her very birth; to destroy her would be an act of baseness to which you never yet descended."
"Bosh! Who talks of destruction? I am tired of all this nonsense! I mean to carry you off and there's an end of it!" said the outlaw, doggedly, rising from his seat.
"Stop!" said Capitola, turning ashen pale. "Stop—sit down and hear me for just five minutes—I will not tax your patience longer."
The robber, with a loud laugh, sank again into his chair, saying:
"Very well, talk on for just five minutes, and not a single second longer; but if you think in that time to persuade me to leave this room to-night without you, you are widely out of your reckoning, my duck, that's all."
"Donald, do not sink your soul to perdition by a crime that heaven cannot pardon! Listen to me! I have jewels here worth several thousand dollars! If you will consent to go I will give them all to you and let you quietly out of the front door and never say one word to mortal of what has passed here to-night."
"Ha, ha, ha! Why, my dear, how green you must think me! What hinders me from possessing myself of your jewels, as well as of yourself!" said Black Donald, impatiently rising.
"Sit still! The five minutes' grace are not half out yet," said Capitola, in a breathless voice.
"So they are not! I will keep my promise," replied Black Donald, laughing, and again dropping into his seat.
"Donald, Uncle pays me a quarterly sum for pocket money, which is at least five times as much as I can spend in this quiet country place. It has been accumulating for years until now. I have several thousand dollars all of my own. You shall have it if you will only go quietly away and leave me in peace!" prayed Capitola.
"My dear, I intend to take that anyhow—take it as your bridal dower, you know! For I'm going to carry you off and make an honest wife of you!"
"Donald, give up this heinous purpose!" cried Capitola, in an agony of supplication, as she leaned over the back of the outlaw's chair.
"Yes, you know I will—ha—ha—ha!" laughed the robber.
"Man, for your own sake give it up!"
"Ha, ha, ha! for my sake!"
"Yes, for yours! Black Donald, have you ever reflected on death?" asked Capitola, in a low and terrible voice.
"I have risked it often enough; but as to reflecting upon it—it will be time enough to do that when it comes! I am a powerful man, in the prime and pride of life," said the athlete, stretching himself exultingly.
"Yet it might come—death might come with sudden overwhelming power, and hurl you to destruction! What a terrible thing for this magnificent frame of yours, this glorious handiwork of the Creator, to be hurled to swift destruction, and for the soul that animates it to be cast into hell!"
"Bosh again! That is a subject for the pulpit, not for a pretty girl's room. If you really think me such a handsome man, why don't you go with me at once and say no more about it," roared the outlaw laughing.
"Black Donald—will you leave my room?" cried Capitola, in an agony of prayer.
"No!" answered the outlaw, mocking her tone.
"Is there no inducement that I can hold out to you to leave me?"
"None!"
Capitola raised herself from her leaning posture, took a step backward, so that she stood entirely free from the trap-door, then slipping her foot under the rug, she placed it lightly on the spring-bolt, which she was careful not to press; the ample fall of her dress concealed the position of her foot.
Capitola was now paler than a corpse, for hers was the pallor of a living horror! Her heart beat violently, her head throbbed, her voice was broken as she said:
"Man, I will give you one more chance! Oh, man, pity yourself as I pity you, and consent to leave me!"
"Ha, ha, ha! It is quite likely that I will! Isn't it, now? No, my duck, I haven't watched and planned for this chance for this long time past to give it up, now that you are in my power! A likely story indeed! And now the five minutes' grace are quite up!"
"Stop! Don't move yet! Before you stir, say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!" said Capitola, solemnly.
"Ha, ha, ha! That's a pretty idea! Why should I say that?"
"Say it to please me! Only say it, Black Donald!"
"But why to please you?"
"Because I wish not to kill both your body and soul—because I would not send you prayerless into the presence of your Creator! For, Black Donald, within a few seconds your body will be hurled to swift destruction, and your soul will stand before the bar of God!" said Capitola, with her foot upon the spring of the concealed trap.
She had scarcely ceased speaking before he bounded to his feet, whirled around and confronted her, like a lion at bay, roaring forth:
"You have a revolver there, girl—move a finger and I shall throw myself upon you like an avalanche?"
"I have no revolver—watch my hands as I take them forth, and see!" said Capitola, stretching her arms out toward him.
"What do you mean, then, by your talk of sudden destruction?" inquired Black Donald, in a voice of thunder.
"I mean that it hangs over you—that it is imminent! That it is not to be escaped! Oh, man, call on God, for you have not a minute to live!"
The outlaw gazed on her in astonishment.
Well he might, for there she stood paler than marble—sterner than fate—with no look of human feeling about her, but the gleaming light of her terrible eyes, and the beading sweat upon her death-like brow.
For an instant the outlaw gazed on her in consternation, and then, recovering himself he burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming:
"Ha, ha, ha! Well, I suppose this is what people would call a piece of splendid acting! Do you expect to frighten me, my dear, as you did Craven Le Noir, with the peas!"
"Say 'Lord have mercy on my soul'—say it. Black Donald—say it. I beseech you!" she prayed.
"Ha, ha, ha, my dear! You may say it for me! And to reward you, I will give you, such a kiss! It will put life into those marble cheeks of yours!" he laughed.
"I will say it for you! May the Lord pity and save Black Donald's soul, if that be yet possible, for the Saviour's sake!" prayed Capitola, in a broken voice, with her foot upon the concealed and fatal spring.
He laughed aloud, stretched forth his arms and rushed to clasp her.
She pressed the spring.
The drop fell with a tremendous crash!
The outlaw shot downwards—there was an instant's vision of a white and panic-stricken face, and wild, uplifted hands as he disappeared, and then a square, black opening, was all that remained where the terrible intruder had sat.
No sight or sound came up from that horrible pit, to hint of the secrets of the prison house.
One shuddering glance at the awful void and then Capitola turned and threw herself, face downward, upon the bed, not daring to rejoice in the safety that had been purchased by such a dreadful deed, feeling that it was an awful, though a complete victory!