University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

The first dawning light of the next
morning found May eagerly poring over
the letter she had the last night so luckily
obtained. She found it all that she
expected, and all that her heart desired.
It told glowingly of his unabated affections—of
his anxiety to clasp her in his
arms, and wound off by expressing
his
hope and expectation of being able to
return some weeks sooner than he told
her at their parting. After she had finished
the perusal, and before any one
else was stirring in the house, she seized
her pen and wrote a hasty letter to Ashley,
briefly relating all that had occurred
since his departure and imploring him,
as he loved, as he would save her, to fly
to her relief.

Soon after breakfast, May caught a
glance of her new ally, coming, punctual

to his appointment, carelessly fishing
along up the brook to the old place of
rendezvous, where he patiently awaited,
behind the intervening shrubbery, the
coming of his mistress, who soon found
opportunity to steal away unobserved
and approach him. Entrusting her letter
to his care, to be given into the postmaster's
own hand, she informed David
that she had determined to get a delay of
the time set for the wedding long enough
to allow Ashley to reach there previous
to the day to which she was in hopes of
getting the wedding postponed. This
was her first resort; and if this failed,
she must then make use of the means
which last night's adventure had given
her; for, as much as the delicacy of her
feelings recoiled at becoming the public
accuser of Gow of a crime of which she
was fearful that Martin and perhaps others
would be implicated, she believed this
the only way then left her of averting
the now doubly revolting destiny that awaited
her. With this, and commissioning
him to get some trifling articles at the
village store, she dismissed her messenger
with directions to repair to the same
spot on his return.

At Martin's return to the house for his
noon meal, May, feeling herself impelled
by the necessity of immediate action, and
making an effort to overcome her reluctance
to any further negotiation with one
who had acted so treacherously towards
her, gave him to understand that she was
acquainted with all the steps he had taken
as preliminary to his bestowing her
on Gow, and besought him and his wife
in the most moving terms, to relinquish
their cruel purpose. But she besought
them in vain. They replied only as she
had anticipated, by now pleading not only
her conditional promise, but what Martin
termed her after consent, and insisted
on her yielding without further ado. Perceiving
any more entreaty on this point
useless, she then begged a postponement

for a few weeks. But this request received
even less favor than the former; and
although they had manifested no surprise
when she apprized them of her knowledge
of her publishment and the appointment
of the day of wedding, believing,
doubtless, she had heard it from some
neighbor, and being well pleased probably,
that they had thus been saved the
task of making to her an announcement
which they knew must soon be made,
and which they could hardly put on the
face to make—although they had shown
no surprise in this or her subsequent request,
yet the moment she spoke of a delay,
they started, exchanged glances of
suspicion, and without assigning the least
reason for refusing to listen to what
would have been, on their assumption of
Ashley's desertion, neither dangerous to
their purposes, nor unreasonable in itself,
pointedly denied her request, and in such
bitterness of expression and unfeeling
abuse, as drove her again in tears from
the room.

`He will have it so,' said May, after
sitting awhile alone indulging in grief, and
revolving in mind the different chances
now left for her escape from the threatened
fate, `there is no other way short of
exposing Gow and bringing him to justice;
and if it involves Martin, the fault is
not mine—gladly, for all his baseness
and cruelty, gladly would I save him from
digrace, and perhaps a prison, for having
given me a home—once a kind home,
however the bad passions may have since
twisted his heart. But he will have it so;
and now for the speediest method of
bringing the character and crimes of that
dark villain, Gow, to light.'

Such was the stern resolution to which
our heroine had reluctantly arrived.—
Gladly, as she said, would she, in remembrance
of the past, and even in forgetfulness
of the present, have averted
from the head of her foster father the infamy
which she had reason to believe
would fall upon him in consequence of

the measures she had now been driven to
the alternative of adopting—joyfully have
flown to him on her return from the
mountain—imparted her discoveries, and
thus have saved him and herself from the
consequences of Gow's villany, had she
believed him only to be the innocent dupe
of the other's artifice. But this she
could scarcely believe, for from the great
intimacy obviously existing between the
two, from the part Martin had taken relative
to the forged letter, and from his
character for intrigue, low cunning and
avarice, which she knew to be his leading
traits, she drew the partially erroneous
conclusion, that they were confederates,
not only in entrapping her, but in coining
money and duping their other associates.
Under these circumstances, therefore,
every measure of this kind, she supposed
would be useless, and might be the
means of defeating her own objects.

Towards night shrewd David returned
from the village, and his employer again
met him alone at the usual place.

`Well, David, I have had more troubles
since I saw you—I have entirely failed in
my attempt to gain time—but you delivered
the letter—and there was nothing
in the office for me?'

`Yes! No!'

`O, if there could been one! I did
not much expect one, however—but did
you remember my little errand?'

`The silk thread? Yes, Miss May,
here it is in this paper.'

May took the parcel from the boy, and
opening it, disengaged the silk from the
wrapper—the latter was a printed paper,
and she listlessly began running over the
contents, when she soon started, as if
finding something which had caused her
some sudden emotion.

`Where did you get this paper, David,'
earnestly asked she, her eyes still riveted
on the words before her.

`Why, the storekeeper puts it round
the silk.'

`Did he say where he obtained it?—

This is not such as they usually wrap
their goods in—it is a printed handbill.'

`Yes, I remembers now; he first says
his wrapping paper's all out—then he
goes to the door swung back inside, and
tears down a paper and says, this has
been here long enough, and wraps the
silk in it.'

`Do you know how it reads, David?'

`No! I never opens it—what is it,
Miss May, that makes you look so queer
about it?'

`Now, David,' she continued, after
reading the description of the thief's person,
and the horse he had abducted;
`now tell me, have you ever seen such
a person as is here described?'

`Why,' replied the boy, after dropping
his head in thought, `Why, I thinks he
must be that mister's own brother, it's
so like him.'

`Nearer home than that—it is Gow
himself!'

`By zounds!'

`Yes, I know more than you do about
this,' and she related the scene that she
and her lover witnessed on Gow's first
coming into the settlement.

`Sure, it is then,' said the boy musingly
after she had ended, `but does
them what tells where he is get the money?'

`Some of it I presume, but this is little
of my concern—those who will take
him away shall be welcome to the reward,
and as much more if I had it to
give them. No, no, not for the reward,
but to git rid of him is my anxiety.—
And I shold prefer this way to any other
for doing it, as it will take him at
once out of the country, and involve nobody
else. David, will you go again to
the village to-morrow—take this to Mr.
Mundle, the sheriff, and without making
use of my name, inform him the thief is
here, and tell him where and how he
may be taken?'

`I does it, by the pipers!'

`And if they do not come on immediately
after him, come here to morrow
night after dark to inform me of your
success.'

The active little messenger, faithful to
his trust, was at the village at an early
hour the next day, and promptly seeking
out Mundle, gave him the hand bill, accompanying
it with the information he
was directed to give; but his communication
was not received by the wary
dealer of rogues with such cordiality
and such ready confidence as he and
his mistress had anticipated. The sheriff
being one of those shrewd and cautious
men who must understand the motives,
and see himself all the springs of
action producing any given measure before
they make up any decided opinion
concerning it, questioned the boy very
closely relative to the causes of his coming;
whether some one had not put him
up to this through emnity to the accused;
thinking it rather strange that this

discovery should not have been made
before concerning a man who had been
in the settlement so many weeks, and
who was, as the publishment the preceding
Sunday at the village meeting apprized
him, about to be married into one
of the principal families of the former
place, and deeming a knowledge of all
this essential, to any reliance on the lad's
story, he himself having never seen
Gow, and Ashley, the only witness referred
to, being absent. But in endeavoring
to conceal the name of his employer,
as she directed, and disdaining
to mirepresent, David's answers became
confused, and finally he refused to reply
to any more questions, still reiterating,
however, that he knew Gow was a
villain, and the one who stole the horse
which, having been to the spot on his
way to the village, he said might still be
seen in the bed of the brook, where the
body was thrown, in such a state of preservation
as to enable one to identify
sundry marks described in the hand bill.

`I wish you would tell me, my lad,'
said the sheriff, musingly, `who is at the
bottom of this; but you may have good
reasons after all for your conduct, for I
have often heard of you, when I have
been up in the neighborhood, as an honest,
capable boy; and in a day or two I
will inquire into this affair.'

But David was not to be put off in this
way. He still hung round the sheriff
and continued to urge his request to
have something done immediately.

`Well, well, boy,' said Mundle at
length, wearied by the importunity of
the former, `we may as well see what
steps can be taken, if your story is true,
now as ever, so go with me to squire
Johnson's.'

They accordingly proceeded to the
village justice, when the sheriff made
known David's story, and the poor boy
was again subjected to a close scrutiny
by his honor, resulting however much

the same as his previous examination.—
The Justice and the Sheriff then held a
consultation apart. After which the latter
came and told David that as Gow
had never been arrested in New Hampshire,
where the horse was stolen, it was
their opinion that they had no authority
to take him till they had written on and
obtained a warrant there; but that, as
the Justice thought he had once seen
Gow in passing by Martin's some week's
before, and believed he would answer to
the description of the hand bill, they had
concluded to go on with the business,
which, if every thing was kept still, might
be brought about in a week or ten days,
and that therefore he had better now go
home, and saying a syllable to no one
on the subject, wait patiently for their
movements.

`A whole week!' exclaimed David
with a look of disappointment and regret,
`it will then be too late—to'ther thing
must be done.'

`Why too late, my lad,' asked both
gentlemen at once, `why too late, and
what other thing do you mean?'

`Why I guesses I wont tell now—no,
not till I sees first.' And so saying the
boy turned on his heel and vanished,
leaving his auditors greatly puzzled how
to understand his singular conduct, and
more than half inclined to believe his
whole story a sheer fabrication.

Our heroine, who had hailed with
pleasure this last measure which had so
unexpectedly opened for accomplishing
in the least objectionable way her purposes,
and who, confidently relying on
success, had waited all day with trembling
solicitude for the effect which she
expected the communication of her messenger
would immediately produce, listened
with no small degree of pain and
disappointment to the account which
David gave her that night after his return
of the failure of his mission; for
failure it was as to all that regarded the

main objects she had in view. Deeply,
did she regret, that not seeing the possibility
of such a result, she had restricted
the boy, whose prudence and sagacity
would have otherwise prompted him
to adopt her other measure in reserve;
and bitterly did she now denounce that
hesitation and false delicacy which had
prevented her after her visit to the cavern
from immediately taking the most efficient
measures within her reach for effecting
a purpose which she more and
more became convinced her duty to herself,
her lover, and to the public, alike
loudly demanded at her hands; and she
trembled to think that only one more
business day intervened before the dreaded
Tuesday, which she began to fear was
destined to seal the doom of her wretchedness.

`Go, David,' she said, `go early Monday
morning again to the village, there
is now no more time for doubts or delays—go,
go seek out Mundle and Johnson,

tell them all—tell them that May
Martin has been in the very den of these
villains, overheard their plots—seen and
handled their tools for counterfeiting—
even found the false dollars they had
made with them, and that she will not
hesitate to swear to it all—tell them this,
and whatever else they require and you
know, and see if that will not arouse
them to action—go my faithful friend,
every thing now depends on you—I
know you will not desert me now, go,
and may heaven speed you.'

The next day, it being Sunday, Gow
visited Martin's. It was the first time
May had seen him since her visit to the
cavern; and she recoiled from his approach
as from the touch of a viper,
while she could scarcely keep her tongue
from giving expression to the feelings of
indignation and abhorrence with which
his presence now more than ever filled
her bosom. He did not long remain to
add to her distress by his hated presence;

for, after a few fruitless trials to
reconcile her to his attentions, he petulently
gave up the attempt and departed
to join his more congenial companion in
their mountain retreat, leaving his intended
victim, whom he now considered already
secure in his toils without further
effort, to count the slow and lingering
hours which must pass before she could
be cheered with the consciousness that
something was doing to snatch her from
her impending fate. Monday at last came,
but with it, to the utter discomfiture of
May, came a drenching rain storm,
which she knew must prevent her messenger
from proceeding on her mission.
Often and vainly during this gloomy day
did she strain her anxious eye in gazing
at the dark and impenetrable clouds to
catch some sign of the storm's abating.
But no such appearance greeted her
sight. The rain continued to pour in
ceaseless torrents, till night, closing in
with Egyptian darkness, cut off all hope
for the efforts of that day and sent her
once more to her cheerless pillow, dejected
and fast beginning to despond of
her extrication from the fate to which
the current of events, in spite of her
means of resisting it, appeared sweeping
her on, and which the very elements
themselves seemed combined to fix upon
her. She did not however despair.
She knew if David could go to the village
in the morning, and succeed in
rousing them there to immediate action,
they would reach the settlement time
enough for her rescue. At the worst
she determined either to proclaim Cow's
villainy before the clergyman and assembled
company, if matters came to
that pass, and resist the proceeding of
the ceremony on the spot, or secretly
elope from the house and fly to some
friendly roof for protection. After a
night of inexpressible anxiety and wretchedness,
she started at the first faint dawning
of the morning light, from her perturbed
slumbers, hastily rose and went
to the window. To her great joy the
rain had wholly ceased and the clouds,
that yesterday enveloped the earth like
a shroud of mantling blackness, having
now broken away and disappeared, had
given place to a clear sky and a bland
atmosphere. After standing a while to
let the soft and balmy breeze fan her feverish
brow, she dressed herself and
went down into the yard. Knowing it
would be some time before the inmates
of the house would be likely to rise, and
fearing that her little friend might not
proceed on her mission without a fresh
bidding, she slowly proceeded up the
road towards his residence, which was in
plain sight, about a quarter of a mile distant,
with the hope that she might see
him round the door to beckon to him to
meet her. She had proceeded but a
few rods however before she unexpectedly
encountered him approaching.

`Where now, David,' she said, `I can

hardly expect you have started out on
my business so early—I was fearful you
had forgotten it, and was coming to see
if I could get a word with you before the
folks were up.'

`Forgets! that ain't David Butler—
but how it rained yesterday! I ached all
day to be a going.'

`But have you really started for the
village? How did you get away so very
early?'

`Why, I tells you how it was—mother
haunts me to know what for I goes
all these times, and last night she promises
to say nothing about it, so I tells
her all—well, then, she gets into a taking—says
Miss May is a poor injured
orphan and God will protect her. Then
after she goes to bed I hears her in the
night crying again about it, and praying
like. Then she gets up afore day and
says she can't sleep, so gets me some
breakfast and tells me to go right off.'

`It was right, perhaps, David, that

you should tell your mother, and I feel
very grateful for her sympathy,' said
May, brushing away the tears that had
started during this simple recital of the
interest her wrongs had awakened in the
bosom of her pious and unpretending
neighbor, `but do you still feel willing
to go and do as I last directed you?'

`I goes till I wears my feet off to my
knees, to save Miss May for Mr Ashley,'
was the heroic reply.

`Go then—there may be time enough
yet for all; go my little friend, and may
kind heaven grant you success.'