IV.
Half an hour after this conversation Isabel Clow was in her drawing-room
dressed for the bridal. Her face was pale, but firm. She was about to
wed for revenge, to humble the pride of one of a race which she knew would
crush her into the dust did they know her Ethiopian origin. She had not
given up James Daily. Love for him was too deeply seated in her heart to
be out-rooted by one rebuff. She gave the present to hatred and looked to
the future, to time and circumstances, to throw around him to whom she had
given her heart, the meshes of her beauty's power.
Carlton Ellery appeared attended by Philip, a Romish priest, and a Portuguese
about fifty years of age. They were married; she by the name of
Isabel, which Philip explained by saying that this was the first part of her
name, though seldom used by her, she being only known to the public as
`La Isla.'
Scarcely had the marriage ceremony passed than Philip Clow turned towards
the bridegroom and with a smile of significant and most malignant
triumph, said,
`Well, sir, now who do you think you have taken to wife?'
`Why, the daughter of this Signor,' he answered, glancing at the Portuguese.
`That Portuguese has no daughter. He is a miserable refugee whom I
have chanced to meet here in the city, and whom I have hired to personate
the character of your bride's father. He speaks not three words of English,
and knows not who the bride is he has given away.'
`Is this true! Who is she, then? Have you deceived me? Is she a
Jewess? You told me afterwards that she was not, but of pure Portuguese
blood. Who is she? What means that hellish smile?'
`Ask her. She knows best.'
`Signora!' he cried, turning towards her with a look of mingled dread
and inquiry; `speak! what is this he says? Are you not the daughter of
this Portuguese? Have you deceived me too! Am I the victim of a conspiracy,
Clow?'
`Ask your wife who she is?'
`Who, then, are you?' he demanded, almost beside himself.
`I am the sister of Philip Clow; not a Jewess, but a mulatress!'
This was uttered with a proud, flashing eye, and in a tone full of flendish
triumph and vindictive hatred. The victim turned to Clow.
`Is this so?' he faintly demanded.
`Yes. Thy young wife is of African blood. She is my own sister. I
have drawn you into this marriage to revenge myself upon you for your repeated
insults to me upon my race; and also to elevate my sister to your
own. She married you not because she loved you, but because she hated
you and would degrade you. We hate all who despise us for our blood.
We are at feud with the white race who hold in bondage the children of
our fathers. Thy wife is my sister. Thou art my brother-in-law. Am I
not ennobled by the alliance, or is it thou who art debased?'
Carlton Ellery stood like one in a dreadful waking dream. He looked
from one to the other with a wild glare. The resemblance between the two
forcibly struck him and he wondered he had not before discovered it. Dark
passions were gathering in his breast, and he would have avenged himself
on the spot upon the mulatto, when the heads of Jack Brigs, and his boy
`Little Jack,' were thrust in at the door. Jack had called to see Philip on the
tavern front of his house, to exchange some stolen plate for coin, when, not
finding him in his room, and seeing the door beyond open, he had passed
through in search of him. Clow had neglected, in his anxious solicitude to
bring the marriage to a crisis, to close the communication between the
houses, as he conducted Carlton to the bridal parlor, and Jack, following the
passages, had thus broken in unexpectedly upon the scene. At the same instant
the street door was opened by a master-key, and the Chief of the Police,
attended by Mr. Weldon, our hero, James Daily, and followed by three
police-men, ascended the stairs.
