University of Virginia Library

41. XLI.
THE SEARCH-WARRANT.

LUCY had scarcely recovered from the agitation
of dismissing Mad through the window, and of
meeting Aaron; she had just soothed her babe
into rest, and lain down beside it on the bed, — when Mrs.
Hedge came rushing in.

“Lucy! Lucy!”

The anxious-hearted girl was on her feet in an instant;
and her looks asked the question which her lips failed to pronounce,
— What had happened?

“They have come to search the house!”

Who? The sheriff and two others. For what? Hannah
did not know; and she had no time for conjecture, for already
they were mounting the stairs.

But Lucy knew too well; and for a moment her very soul
was darkened. Then as suddenly a vivid light flashed upon
her, — the light of love and duty. The one thought, the one
supreme resolve, TO SAVE THE FATHER OF HER CHILD, swept
into oblivion every thing else, — pain, feebleness, fear, the

memory of irreparable wrongs, — and concentrated all her
strength, all the faculties of body and soul, in the swift act
of the instant.

“Keep them — one minute! Go!” She thrust Mrs.
Hedge from the room, and shut the door.

And now, while Mrs. Hedge is speaking to the officers, as
only a woman can speak, of the sick, the very sick babe, and
of the suffering young mother, and entreating them to discharge
their duty with all gentleness, we may glance at the
cause of the search.

It was after Job had given his evidence, and Mad had escaped,
that the heart of Biddikin succumbed under the pressure
of circumstances. Then, placed once more under oath, —
confessing a little, and trying to conceal more, — in his distraction,
seeing no other way to save his son, he turned, and
denounced Guy.

“He led my son into it; HE used the pistol; HE took the
gold! There the murderer stands!”

It is not probable that Guy had up to this time escaped suspicion.
His testimony with regard to the pistol had not been
very satisfactory; and Abner's statements concerning Pelt's
business on the mountain, and Guy's anxiety about it, had
doubtless prepared many for this announcement. Guy must
certainly have been prepared; for, while others appeared startled
and amazed, he exhibited no surprise, but with his
countenance perhaps a shade paler than before, his lips slightly
curling, he threw at Biddikin a look in which indignation
and stern warning were blended with contempt.

“He who keeps a private grave in the woods should beware
whom he accuses!”

In the midst of the stir and sensation, these low, level
words went straight into Biddikin's soul. Few besides
heard, and none else understood them; but to him they were
a thunderbolt. A chalky pallor whitened his cheeks: he
gasped, he gave one ghastly look, and tumbled down in a
swoon. He was carried out.

But already the seed was sown. Guy's connection with
Lucy and with spiritualism had made him many enemies:
some were of the jury. The opportunity was eagerly seized,
and he was called again upon the stand. He glanced
around; he saw written in harsh faces a determination to
press him hard; and his resolution was taken.

“I decline,” said he, “to answer any more questions.”

What was to be done? It had appeared in the physician's
evidence that Guy had called him the evening before
to visit Lucy's babe: hence it was inferred that he had
seen her after the murder. It was not deemed expedient,
however, to summon her before the jury until a search had
been made for the gold. The sheriff was accordingly despatched
with instructions to search Jehiel's house, Biddikin's,
and Guy's quarters at home. In the mean time, Abner was
recalled, — Abner, who was destined now to have all the details
of his infidelity to Elphaz, and his conferences with Guy
on the subject of the land-sale, drawn, as it were, through the
very pores of his skin.

Jehiel's house was the first one visited by the search-warrant.
The sheriff, accompanied by an assistant, entered Lucy's
room. She had rightly divined their business; and
there she sat, pale, silent, drooping over her babe, which she
held upon her breast.

At sight of her, the officer's heart was touched. He spoke
to her kindly; for he remembered that he, too, had watched
by a dying infant, and witnessed a mother's affliction in his
own home.

Lucy scarcely seemed to observe the intruders. She betrayed
not the least interest in the search, nor once lifted her
eyes, but kept them fixed upon her baby's face, with a look
of love and anguish pitiful to see.

“I'll just trouble you to rise,” said the sheriff.

She stood upon her feet holding the babe to her breast;
then sat down again, hushing and soothing it as it began to
worry.

The search was thorough in both the rooms; but it was
conducted in silence. No gold was to be found.

The officers, apparently not much disappointed, nor sorry
to withdraw, took their leave. She heard them going down
the stairs; but she had hardly dared to congratulate herself
that it was all over, when she heard footsteps again approaching.
The door had been left open. She was trembling with
apprehensions of discovery which she had not felt before,
when a voice spoke, — a hesitating voice, —

“Is ma here?”

“O Archy! come in!” and the genius sidled into the
room. “Shut the door!” He obeyed, and stood twisting
his hat-brim, and looking bashfully at the floor, remarking
that he didn't see ma nowheres. “She went home at noon,”
said Lucy. “She promised to come again this evening.
But, Archy, are you sure I can trust you?”

“Trust me!” echoed the genius, raising his eyes almost
reproachfully. “You know, if there's any thing I can do
for ye” —

“Yes, I do know; and I will trust you with a secret that
I wouldn't have another person in the world suspect. Come
to me to-night, after dark. Tell your mother I shall not
want her till to-morrow. O Archy, you can help me so
much! for there is no one else I dare to ask.”

Archy promised to do faithfully all she wished. Then he
was going; but she detained him with a question which she
dreaded to speak, and trembled to have answered, — the
news about Guy. Archy scratched his head, and tried to
soften his words before uttering them; but her burning eye
was on him. She would have the truth, the bare truth, at
once.

“Wal, ye see, they had up Doctor Biddikin, — old fool,
don't know beans!” premised Archy. “He says Guy done
it, — you know what, — and took the gold. After that, Guy
was a little riled, I guess; for he wouldn't answer a single
question. They've got Abner swearing now; and he's telling
all he knows, and more too, — how Guy said he didn't
vally Pelt's life, but meant to have the gold anyhow.”

Lucy heard unflinchingly. “And Guy?”

“Wal, all they want to prove now is that he had the gold.
That they can't do, of course,” said Archy. “But — they
say — he'll have to — go to jail.”

Lucy suppressed a cry, and clasped closer still her babe,
bending her cheek down to it with a show of dumb affliction
which quite overmastered Archy's manhood.

Then, when he was gone, and the door was shut, her face
slowly upturned to heaven with a mute prayer; the arms that
held the babe relaxed; and, the folds of the little blanket
parting, something rolled out, and dropped with a dull chink
upon the floor. It was the bag of gold.