University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

On the margin of the Mississippi, some eight
or ten miles below St. Louis, stood, at the time
of which we write, an old, somewhat dilapidated,
and apparently untenanted log hut. Although
standing on the bank of the river, it was well
screened from observation by thick branching
trees and a dense shrubbery, which completely
surrounded it. The ground in the rear of it was
mostly level; but in front, it abruptly descended
to the river, which came sweeping along some
thirty yards below. The hut itself, on close inspection,
presented both externally and internally
a very disagreeable appearance. It contained
but one apartment, if we except a place partitioned
off at one end, for what purpose may,
perhaps, be seen hereafter. However ugly and
disagreeable the matter may prove, dear reader, it
now becomes necessary for us to introduce you
within the precints of this old dwelling—for dwelling
indeed it was—at an hour not the most agreeable,
were you obliged to enter corporeally.

Seated upon an old stool, beside a small table,
on which his elbow rested, his head in turn resting
upon his hand, was a man over whom some
sixty years had made their circling rounds. One
hand held a paper, on which he was intently gazing,
while some few others were scattered carelessly
over the table. It was near the “witching
time of night,” and a dim, flickering candle served
to show the outline of his form, and bring his
features into a more bold relief. His countenance
was strongly marked by several lines which depicted
cunning and avarice to a remarkable degree.
His eyes were small, dark and piercing,
and were surmounted by heavy beetling brows.
His forehead was low, and deeply wrinkled; and
his head, though a little bald, was generally
covered with long hair, besprinkled with the silver
touches of time. The most striking feature of his
face, was his nose; being long, pointed and aquiine—denoting
him to be one of that often despised
race, the Jew. His beard was suffered to grow,
unmolested by the civilizing touches of a razor;
was rough, of a dirty brown color; and came below
his chin sufficiently, with his head bent forward,
to rest on his bosom. His skin was dark
and filthy, deeply wrinkled, and begrimed with
dirt. Altogether his whole appearance betokeued
a man full of treachery and deceit; of
dark sinister motives; and one who, to a person of
the least refined taste, would prove repugnant in
the extreme.

He was seated as before said, intently gazing on
a paper held in his hand, which trembling in the
light, threw over his swarthy, hideous features a
flitting shade; making them, if possible, even more
hideous in expression. Gradually his small, while a
sinister smile hovered around the corners of his
mouth, as he uttered a low, chuckling laugh.—
Suddenly starting, a paleness overspread his countenance,
the paper dropped from his hand, and he
looked hurriedly around the room, vainly endeavoring
to peer into the darkness, his limbs trembling
with cowardly fear, exclaiming:

“Ha! mine Gott! vot wash dat? O! poh, poh!
twas noshings; vot fors should I pees afraids?—
noshings vill hurtish me;” and turning to the
table, he again took up the paper, muttering—
“Dis ish von good documents, as shall makes mine
fortunes. De old Jew vill von days pe a very
great mans, mid a young handsome wifes;” and
again he chuckled, with a fiendish glee.

Scanning the papers for a few minutes, he commenced
rolling them carefully together, and ended
by securing them with a string. When done,
he laid the roll upon the table before him, and
gazed upon it long and wistfully:—then rising
from his seat, he shuffled slowly across the apartment,
to the place already mentioned as being
partitioned off, where disappearing for a few minutes,
he reappeared, returned, reseated himself
on his stool, crossed his arms an the table, bent
his head forward, and, judging from his vacant
stare, was soon engaged in some deep study.

“Ha! mine Gott! but dey mush succeeds!” exclaimed
he, at length, as though speaking from a
train of thought:—“yet I fears dat infernal showers
will make it too mush bad. Ah! vot wash dat!”
cried he suddenly, starting up and bending forward
in alistening attitude. “Blessed pe Fader Abram!
dat ish de signals,” continued he, rubbing his
hands, chuckling, and advancing towards the
door, as a clear, shrill whistle rang through the
hovel. “Ah, mine Gott! mine Gott! von day nows
I shall haves plenty of monish;” and he attempted

a feeble imitation at dancing, which, with his
stooped figure and trembling limbs, presented a
spectacle disgusting as it was ridiculous.

Advancing to the door, the opened it, gave an
answering signal from a piece of ivory which he
applied to his mouth, and then leaned against the
door post, as if in expectation of some visitor.—
For some minutes all was silent, and then came
the sound of approaching footsteps, with which
was occasionally mingled a grunt and a deep muttered
curse, as though the comer was toiling with
some heavy burthen. Directly the figure of a
man was seen struggling through the bushes,
bearing a human body in his arms, and a moment
after, entering the hovel, he deposited it on the
ground.

“Thar,' Mister Jew David, when you want another
gal cotched, I reckons as how you'll have
to cotch her yerself—for Bill Riley aint found
on such an errand agin, not afore this scrape's
forgot, anyhow.”

“Vare ish Mistoor Jacks?” enquired the Jew.

“Why ye see, old feller, that ar's much easier
axed, than answered. Most likely he's in a
straight jacket by this time, if he arn't already
bored through the body. I did'nt wait to see how
it come out, for I thought one was about as many
as I could tend on, conveniently.”

“Vy, vot dosh you means?” cried the Jew, in
alarm.

“O, nothing much, only somebody happened to
hear what was a goin' on, and come up in a hurry,
pistol in hand, which probably went off accidentally,
and ye see Jack arn't here; that's all I know
about it.”

“Oh, mine Gott! mine Gott! do you thinks
Jacks vosh kilt?” enquired the Jew, his dark eyes
gleaming strangely.

“Can't say—most likely he's dead by this
time.”

A low, half-smothered chuckle escaped the
Jew, which Bill overheard, and turning fiercely
to him, exclaimed:

“Look ye here, old rough-head! I believe you're
a most outrageous, old villainous cut-throat! I
do upon my honor.”

“Vot fors you shays dat?” asked the Jew, with
a savage grin.

“Cause I jest think so, and I al'ays like to
speak my mind. Here you are now, laughing to
yerself, for ye darn't to laugh out like a man,
thinking Jack, poor feller's, dead. Well, it's
lucky for you if he is: that's my opinion about
it.”

“Vot for you shays dat?” repeated the Jew,
turning a little pale.

“Come, come, old feller, not so fast. Bill Riley
don't peach; if he did”—and he looked keenly
at the Jew, drawing his right hand obliquely
across his throat, making a gurgling sound—
“somebody might get that ar' you know. But
come,” he added, “I've done the job, and now I'll
trouble you for the chinkers—a cool hundred, you
remember.”

“Oh, mine Gott! it vosh but fifty!” cried the
Jew, starting back.

“Fifty apiece, old covey, and thar's two on us,
which jest makes it a hundred. As Jack's not
here, I'll jest take his for him, and in case I cum
across him, its easily paid over, ye see.”

“Oh, mine Gott! I vill not not do so,” whimpered
the Jew, who in Jack's absence thought he
might cheat him of his share.

“You won't, eh?” exclaimed Bill, advancing to
the table and returning with the light, which he
held close to the features of Emily, who lay extended
on the ground, pale and motionless, yet
even lovely withal: “Look thar,' Jew! d'ye see
that ar' innocent young lady, whom God forgive
me, for bringing into harm's way! D'ye see her?
Now look at me;” and he drew himself up to his
full height, bringing the light full in front of his
face, while the Jew stood wondering:—“Look
well! d'ye see me? do I look like a feller that can
be trifled with?” Then drawing a pistol, he raised
it to a level with the head of David, who turned
pale, trembled, and threw up his hands in an imploring
attitude as he continued: “Now mark
me, Jew David, if them ar' chinkers arn't forthcoming
in about two minutes, I'll send a bullet
through your head, by—!” and he concluded
with an oath.

“Oh, Fader Abram!” exclaimed the Jew,
trembling like an aspen leaf; “poot down de pishtools,
Mistoor Rileys, and you shall haves de
monish.”

For a moment the other stood gazing on him
with a look of ineffable scorn, and as he did so,
the trio formed a scene worthy the pencil of an
artist.

Near the centre of the room was Riley, his tall
straight form drawn proudly up, one foot thrown
a little back, his right hand grasping a pistol, his
left the light, which throwing its gleams upon
his countenance, exhibited it in strong relief. His
features were not handsome—strictly speaking—
and yet they were well formed; the outlines bold
and rather prepossessing. Their expression was
stern, rather than villainous, and his clear, bold,
grey eyes, which were now fastened with intensity
upon the Jew, spoke more the courage of a
man, than the braggadocio of a scoundrel. There
was something in his look which told you he
would do what he said; and one that to trifle with
under circumstances like the present, would prove
a dangerous individual. His lips thin, and generally
close drawn over his teeth, were now parted
and slightly drawn up with a sneer, wherein was
concentrated all the scorn which a truly brave
man feels at the sight of a whimpering, cowardly
ruffian. Some two or three feet in front of Riley,
stood the Jew; his withered form, blanched cheeks,
quivering lips and trembling limbs, presenting a
striking contrast. Ay, he, the dastardly cutthroat,
who would not flinch from burying the
murderer's dagger in the heart of some poor, unsuspecting
victim, now quaked and trembled at
only the bare thought of death overtaking his
shriveled, worthless carcase! A little to the left
of Riley, lay the apparently lifeless form of Emily
Nevance; her pale features looking even more
pale and death-like, as the dim light of the lamp
fell faintly upon her lovely, upturned countenance;
while night formed the back-ground, and
compietely encircling them, threw a dark veil over
surrounding objects.

After gazing a moment on the Jew, Riley advanced
to the table, replaced the light, seated
himself on the stool, and then bade the Israelite
“make haste with the chinkers.”

Old David tottered slowly across the apartment,
to the closet before spoken of, groaning at the very
idea of parting with so much money; but presently
he returned, bringing with him a leathern
purse, which he emptied on the table, exclaiming;

“Dare, Mistoor Rileys, ish all my monish.—
Oh! mine Gott! I shall always more pe one ruined
mans.”

Riley deigned no reply, but cooly commenced
counting the money and transferring it to his
pockets. Then turning to the Jew, he enquired
what he intended to do with the lady.

The Jew looked at him steadily for a moment,
and then as if satisfied there was nothing to fear,
replied, with a grin, his small black eyes twinkling
with savage humor:

“Vy, Mistoor Rileys, I tinks I shall makes her
my vife.”

“Your what?” cried Bill, half starting up.

“My vife,” repeated the Jew, scarcely knowing
whether to be alarmed or not.

“Your wife, eh? ha, ha, ha!—that's capital; a
mighty good joke that, old boy—ha, ha, ha!—
You're such a good looking, soft eyed, clean faced
old beauty, that if the lady don't fall in love with
ye at first sight, you'll have the perticular satisfaction
o' knowing the fault warn't yours, anyhow—
ha, ha, ha!”

“He, he, he!” laughed the Jew, grinning hideously.

“But I say, Jew, what's yer object in throwin'
yerself away at such a tender age?”

“Vot fors mine objects?” repeated the Jew, enquiringly.

“Yes! what'll ye get by marryin' this ere lady?
for in course ye'll gain somethin' or yer wouldn't
do it.”

“O, mine Gott! I shall marrys for loves,
Mistoor Rileys;” replied the Jew, with stoical
gravity.

“For love, eh?—ha, ha, ha!—ho, ho, ho!”
roared Bill, holding his sides:—“For love, eh?”
and again he went into convulsive fits of laughter.
“Why you confounded, stupid old heathen! do
you think as how you can make an ass o' Bill
Riley? Do you really think thar's anything
perticularly verdant about him? Love—paugh!
your shrivelled old carcase never fell in love with
anything yet, unless thar' was “monish” attached
to't. Now jest mark me!” continued he, looking
steadily at the Jew, raising the forefinger of his
right hand, and assuming a serious tone of voice:
“Thar's a mystery connected with this ere business,
and per'aps you thinks as how you can blind
me, and per'aps you may; but I tell you one
thing, bewar' what you do! for if this ere gal
comes to harm, through your doings, I, Bill Riley,
swear by the honor of a gentleman, to send a
bullet through yer loathsome carcase! I do, by
heavens! And Jew, I know more consarnin' this,
than you're a thinkin' on. Thar's some secret
connected with this gal's birth, and you intend
crossin' the big waters.”

The Jew started back, exclaiming: “Vy, how
you finds dat outs?”

“Ha! then I'm right there,” thought Bill.—
“No matter how I found it out,” he replied; “but
ye see I know a little what's a goin' on, so have a
care friend David. But enough! I'll have to begin
to travel; so good bye, old boy, and jest keep
yer eye skinned for squalls;” and rising as he
spoke, he moved for the door.

At this juncture, Emily, whom they supposed
lay in a swoon, but who in reality bad feigned it,
in order to learn as much as possible regarding
the wherefore of her capture; and who, thinking
from the foregoing conversation there might be
something gained by appealing to the feelings of
Riley; uttered a scream, and sprang into a sitting
posture, exclaiming:

“Save me, save me!” But her plan did not
succeed. Riley, either fearful of being discovered,
or that she might work upon his feelings, pushed
quickly forward and disappeared.

As the door closed behind the kidnapper, the
Jew looked hurriedly around, gave a low chuckle,
rubbed his hands together, and advanced towards
Emily, who instantly sprang to her feet. Recoiling
a step or two, he gazed upon her with undisguised
admiration, as well he might. Her beauful
figure drawn gracefully up, the flush of excitement
mounting her face and neck with a ruddy
glow, her proud lip curling with a look of
scorn, again reflected from her brilliant, dark
blue eyes, as she crossed her arms on her breast
and stood regarding him; formed a picture which
might win the admiration of even a miserly cutthroat.

“O, mine Gott! she does looks so mush pooty!”
cried the Jew—“Vot a fine wifes!”

“Jew,” began Emily, in a dignified tone,
“what means this? why have I been brought
hither?”

For a moment the Jew looked at her steadily,
and as he did so, his ugly features contracted into
a grin, followed by a low chuckle.

“You ish very mush pootish, gal,” he replied,
“and Ben David vill makes you his wifes.”

“Never!” cried Emily, in a voice so loud, bold
and firm, that the Jew involuntarily started back
“Never, sir! I become your wife? No! sooner
would I die a thousand deaths!”

“O, mine Gott! she does looks so mush pootish!”
exclaimed old David, recovering from his surprise
as Emily ceased, and gazing upon her with a doting
look of exultation. “Come, young ladish,
we vill takes a walk,” continued he, approaching
and taking hold of her arm, which she threw off
with a contemptuous look,—at the same time
drawing a dagger from the folds of her dress, while
the Jew again started suddenly back, she exclaimed:

Beware, Jew, beware! It were better for you to
beard a lion in his den, than a woman armed, in
my situation. Do not attempt to touch me with
your foul, polluted hands, or your much fouler
soul, thrice damned with sin, with all its hideous
weight of guilt, shall wing its flight and stand arraigned
before the bar of the eternal God! And
Jew,” continued she solemnly, “there is a God!
and one of justice.”

So sudden the action, so bold the movement, so
solemn the tone of Emily, all combined, took the
Jew completely by surprise; and he stood for a
moment, gazing upon her dark blue, soul-speaking
eyes, with alook wherein was blended all the
awe, admiration and respect, which one like him
was capable of expressing. It was but for a moment
however. A dark shade suddenly flitted
across his forehead; his eyes shot forth strange,
savage gleams; his lips quivered, as he attempted
to compress them over his almost toothless gums,
and he bent on Emily a look so full of the expression
of a fiend, that she felt her eye quail, while
the blood receded to her heart and a tremor of secret
terror ran throughout her system.

Applying the ivory to his lips, the Jew gave a
peculiar whistle, which was immediately answered
from without. A minute later, two figures entered
the doorway; and ere Emily had fairly comprehended
what was going forward, she found
herself pinioned in the grasp of two ruffians.

“Oh!” exclaimed she, “all is lost!” and she uttered
a heart-piercing scream.

The Jew chuckled merrily, and advancing toward

her, until she felt his very breath on her
face, said:

“You looks very mush more pootish;” and he
attempted to press his loathsome lips against her
face. Recoiling as much as lay in her power—
each wrist being grasped by the strong arm of a
man—Emily managed to evade what she would
have suffered death sooner than permitted, a
kiss from the Jew. At this moment she thought
of Edward, and scarcely knowing why, she called
upon his name for help.

“Vot fors you calls?” chuckled the Jew. “Mistoor
Edwards vill not comes!”

“'Tis a lie!” uttered a deep, manly voice, that
made Emily scream for joy, as the figure of a
man sprang quickly forward, a pistol in either
hand, still exclaiming:—“Back, fiends of hell!
back! ere I send a bullet through your brains!” and
the next instant Emily was clasped in the arms
of Edward Merton, who pressed her to his bosom
with all the wild foundness of a first passionate love.

After leaving Merton in the previous chapter,
he had ridden quickly forward, but had been somewhat
delayed, as the exact location of the old hut
was unknown to him. He had secured his horse
at a short distance, and was searching along the
bank of the river, assisted by the light of the moon,
which pouring down her silvery flood of light,
gave to each thing a calm and pleasing effect—
when the scream of Emily arresting his attention,
effectually enabled him to find the house; which
being completely surrounded by trees and bushes,
had thus far eluded his observation. Instantly
springing forward, he reached the entrance just
in time to hear the voice of her he loved, in tones
that went to his very soul, calling on him for
help, and the taunting reply of the Jew. Mad,
almost, with hope, rage and fear combined, he
entered as described; but so suddenly, and unexpectedly,
that the ruffians relaxed their hold and
retreated to the farther side of the apartment;
while the Jew, not knowing what he had to fear,
stood trembling with very fright. Seeing there
was but one, however, he somewhat recovered, exclaiming:

“Vy you don't sheize him? vot fors you ish
afraids?”

“Off, ruffians, off! or by heavens you journey to
another world!” cried Merton, springing in front
of Emily. “And as for you, old dastardly cutthroat!”
continued he, turning to David, as the
ruffians paused—“I have a word to say, which
you will do well to heed! This girl I demand by
virtue of this ring!” and as he spoke, he presented
the one given him by Barton.

Whether Merton expected this to have any effect
on the Jew or not, certain it is that he was
very much surprised at the singular change it did
effect; for the Jew instantly advanced in a fawning
manner, while the ruffians slunk quietly
away. Content that his purpose was gained,
without seeking the mysterious cause, Merton,
accompanied by Emily, quitted the hovel as soon
as possible. The Jew followed them to the door,
whispering them a good night, pleasant journey
and so forth, and even went so far as to offer his
service as a guide, which of course was declined.
As Merton entered the bushes, he looked back
and saw the Jew standing in the doorway, his
face upturned as though gazing at the stars. At
this moment a cloud which had obseured the rays
of the moon passed, and the light streaming full
upon his countenance, exhibited features so
wrought up in expression with all that was dark,
treacherous and devilish, that in Merton's estimation
the owner was well worthy to become the
master fiend of hell itself.

A short walk of a few minutes brought them
to the spot where Merton had left his horse, when
to the surprise of both, they found the one Emily
had ridden standing along side. Merton accounted
for this by supposing that the kidnapper,
either forgetting, or not having any further
use, had left her at liberty, when attracted
by the neighing of Sir Harry she had sought him
out. Assisting Emily to mount, he was soon
once more astride his own fine steed; and moving
away with lightened hearts, they were shortly
traversing a path which led on toward Webber's,
engaged in mutual explanations of what had occurred
to each in the others absence; and if in doing
so, Merton did ride a little closer to the side of
Emily than was actually necessary—and if when
the moon shone full on her fair countenance, he
did bend forward and gaze thereon with a look of
fondness that told of holy love, drinking in the
glances of her dark blue eyes—and if in attempting
to lay hold of her bridle-rein, to guide her horse
in the better path, he sometimes touched her
hand, pressing it within his own, and whispered
words so soft and low the very zephyrs could not
catch their import, causing her head to droop,
while a rosy tint sprang brightly o'er her face,—
is it anything that the reader should stop to wonder
at? We think not. Very few but would
have done the same under like circumstances.