 | XXXV.
HECTOR'S JOURNEY. Neighbor Jackwood |  |
35. XXXV.
HECTOR'S JOURNEY.
It was a close, wet evening. Rolling vapors filled the sky. A
crowd was gathered by the river, and a line of slaves, ranged
along the wharf, held pitch-pine torches above their heads, to light
a steamer coming up from the bay. Gradually the vessel approached,
her slow wheels beating the water; cries passed from
deck to wharf; the lines were flung out, and made fast to the
shore; then came the rush and bustle of landing — friends greeting
friends, porters shouldering luggage, carriages and wagons in
attendance, and the flare of the torches wavering over all.
There was one passenger, among the first to land, who made
haste to engage a hack, and rode away from this animated and
picturesque scene. As the vehicle rattled through the town, he
gazed listlessly upon the lighted shops, the gay saloons, and the
glistening, muddy walks. Each spot was familiar to his eye; but
how far-off, and cold, and idle, seemed all that life to the world of
thought and feeling in his own breast!
Suddenly the carriage stopped. “What is the trouble?” — and
he put his head out of the window.
“The Strikers!” said the coachman. Other vehicles had
stopped. At the doors and windows of houses, on the steps, on
the walks, appeared throngs of spectators, presenting a variety of
complexions, rather remarkable to an eye unaccustomed to mixed
races. The music of a band approaching floated upon the air;
and Hector, looking in the direction towards which the many-hued
faces were turned, beheld a grotesque procession. Then he remembered
that it was New Year's Eve, the season of masquerades;
and that the Strikers were one of the famous societies which, by
rival of Rome and Venice in their gay carnivals.
A double chain of torch-bearers, with dusky faces and bare
arms, like those upon the wharf, marked the line of the procession.
In front burned the cabalistic characters of the order —
“S. I. S.” — upon an ornate and showy standard. Then (wonderful
to behold!) came marching out of the fabulous past, out of
the realms of fiction, out of the covers of books, the heroes of
Romance: Amadis of Gaul, the Cid, and Arthur, with knights of the
round table, in gorgeous panoply; Pantagruel, Rabelais' creation,
of vast and laughable dimensions; and Don Quixote, grim with
courage, mounted on the boniest of steeds, and accompanied by his
doughty squire, striding a grave animal of a long-eared race.
Ivanhoe, Robin Hood, and the fantastic Wamba, came after.
Then might have been witnessed the edifying spectacle of Tom
Jones and Gil Blas, walking arm in arm; Mr. Pickwick and Oliver
Twist; Porthos, Athos, and Aramis, the three guardsmen,
world-renowned; and the Count of Monte Christo in conversation
with the Wandering Jew. Leatherstocking, and some of Cooper's
Indians, appeared conspicuous; and Robinson Crusoe and
his man Friday marched in the midst of the procession. Many
of those that followed were unknown to Hector; but there was
no mistaking Hudibras and Orlando Furioso, who brought up the
rear. Uncle Tom, by a singular oversight, was not represented,
except accidentally, perhaps, in the figures of the torch-bearers.
The procession tramped on through the thin and slippery mud,
the glare of the torches growing sombre and misty in the distance;
and Hector, who had dismounted from the coach, was about resuming
his seat, when a hand touched his shoulder.
“I had to put on my glasses to make sure 't was you!” cried a
cordial old gentleman, grasping his hand. “Where did you come
from? Where are you going?”
“I landed ten minutes ago from the steamer, and I am on my
way to the Battle House.”
“The Battle House? I suppose you know the Strikers give a
grand entertainment there to-night! You shall see the last of the
Mohicans dance in his war-paint and feathers, and make havoc
may be expected to vie with each other in gallantry, and Rip
Van Winkle shall show himself wide awake after his twenty years'
nap. Meanwhile, why won't you jump into my carriage, and ride
with us to Royal-street?” cried the old gentleman. “You must
see the Cowbellions. And, I 'll tell you what, your baggage shall
be sent to my house, and you shall make us a visit.”
He would listen to no objections; and Hector, who had in fact
no very grave objections to advance, accepted the invitation. The
old gentleman's carriage was close by. It contained two ladies, —
one a fine-looking, middle-aged person, arrayed with considerable
magnificence; the other younger, of a more delicate beauty, and
a more thoughtful and spiritual countenance.
“My sister, Mrs. De Rohan,” said the old gentleman, indicating
the elder of the two, “and my niece. Ladies, Mr. Dunbury.”
“I expected to see Helen,” said Hector.
“She is preparing for a ball. After witnessing the show, we
will try to get home in time to see her off. Drive on, Parchment!”
— to the colored coachman. “Royal-street.”
“Yes, massa,” said Parchment, proudly drawing up the reins.
Royal-street was found impassable; and Parchment, consulting
his master, brought the span to a halt upon an eligible corner.
Another procession was approaching; and the crowds were dense.
First came the band, in dashing uniforms; then followed, amid a
throng of servitors, the colossal effigy of a milk-white cow, with
extraordinary horns, a wondrous length of tail, and luminous eyes,
— all hung with festoons of ribbons, and with silver bells.
“These are the Cowbellions, I suppose, Mr. Copliff?” said
Hector.
“Yes, that is the venerable name of the society,” replied the
old gentleman.
“What a whimsical caprice!” exclaimed the elder of the two
ladies.
“A caprice, Mrs. De Rohan,” said her brother, “which has
grown in power and popularity for some twenty years. I was
once a Cowbellion myself,” he added, with self-complacency.
“You!” cried Mrs. De Rohan. “Dear me! what is the meaning
of those outlandish costumes?”
“I should think the entire mineral kingdom had marched out
of the bowels of the earth, to parade in Royal-street!” said Hector.
“Observe, upon that coal-black steed, that coal-black rider,
with a block of sea-coal for a head.”
“Old King Cole himself!” ejaculated Mr. Copliff.
“Precious Stones sparkles superbly in contrast,” said Hector.
“To his knees he is all garnets; his breast is of onyx, his arms
of ruby, his things sapphire, and his head of pure diamonds!
How ludicrous Chalk looks, coming after! He is as white as ten
millers. There is Iron, and Silver, and Gold; and, look! there
comes the vegetable kingdom, — animated melons, colossal cauliflowers,
and beets on horse-back!”
“A repetition, a plagiarism!” cried Mr. Copliff. “We had
the vegetable kingdom thirteen years ago, when I was a Cowbellion.
I was a cabbage-head. You never saw anything so green.
My leaves covered me to my waist; I think a hungry ox might
have eaten me, without discovering the difference. I was constructed
of pasteboard and green silk. Observe Sir Carrot!”
“Where?” asked Mrs. De Rohan, raising her eye-glass.
“Yonder, travelling in company with a friendly potato,” said
Hector. “He is the magnified image of a little fellow I pulled
out of my father's garden last summer. His yellow limbs are the
forked roots, and his head branches out naturally into a luxuriant
adornment of tops. How do you like it, Parchment?”
Parchment, showing his magnificent teeth: “Aw — I — massa
— it 's mos' superfluous!” — meaning superb. “De Strikers is n't
a suckumstance, dis year, my 'pinion!”
Mrs. De Rohan: “Is not there the animal kingdom,
behind?”
Hector: “I hope not; for we have seen enough. But there it
comes, truly! It looks as if three menageries and the inhabitants
of several cedar swamps had been picturesquely mixed, and
marched into Mobile.”
Parchment, shaking: “Look a' dat ar great big alligator, on
his hind legs! Dems what ye call jaws!”
Mr. Copliff: “Look out for the span, Parchment; they may
take fright. What 's the matter?”
“I declar', massa,” articulated the coachman, “I 's laughed till
I 's powerful weak!”
Hector had become suddenly thoughtful. Dragons, serpents,
monstrous frogs, men with lion's heads, men with tusks and trunks,
men with beaks and wings, and men with tails, moved by him unobserved,
in the torches' smoky light.
“Are you tired of it, Dunbury?”
“O, no!” Hector started. “But my mind was elsewhere.
I did wrong to accept your invitation; I 'm not in a social mood
to-night.”
“You will find a sympathizing companion in my niece,” said
the old gentleman. “I believe she has not spoken since you joined
us. Ah! there is Adam and Eve, the last of the animal creation,
and the end of the show. Have we seen enough, ladies? Drive
home, Parchment! By the way, Lucy, tell Dunbury about —
what was the name? Your favorite. He is from the north, and
may give you some information and advice.”
“That is not probable. But,” said the niece, after some hesitation,
“it is easy to state the facts. I had a favorite, as my
uncle rightly calls her —”
“I remember the name now!” cried Mr. Copliff: “Camille.”
How the shock of that word smote Hector's heart!
“She was by nature a rare character; and during the few
years she lived with me,” said Lucy, “she developed wonderfully.
Although my servant, she was more like a younger sister; and I
treated her as such.”
Mr. Copliff: “There you were wrong,” — dogmatically, —
“totally wrong, Lucy. But you know my principles; and we
will not argue that point. A person, born of a slave mother,
should not, on any condition —”
“You did not know Camille, uncle, or you would never repeat
your celebrated axiom,” said the other, with a smile.
Mr. Copliff, indulgently: “Well, well, my dear, go on.”
“Circumstances, which I need not explain,” — the speaker's
voice faltered, — “removed Camille from me at a critical and
was sold. Are you interested?”
“Much,” spoke Hector, betwixt the beatings of his heart.
“I think it was horrible!” exclaimed Mrs. De Rohan. “I
have not come south to interfere with your blessed institutions,
brother,” — with sarcasm, — “but you must allow me now and
then to express a meek opinion. I think the idea of a young girl,
like Camille, being sold —”
Mr. Copliff, wincing: “Go on, Lucy.”
“Until very recently, I was not free to make any efforts in her
behalf,” said his niece. “But Camille had been brought to this
city, from New Orleans; and on my arrival here, three days ago,
I went personally to search her out. I applied to the man who
purchased her; when, imagine my astonishment to learn that she
had made her escape to freedom!”
Hector could scarce refrain from clasping the speaker's hand, in
the sympathy and exultation of his spirit.
“This interests you, I see. But hear the rest. I thought it
natural that the man would dispose of his claim upon the poor
girl for a mere trifle; and I resolved that, if within the limit of
my means, I would secure it; for I had hopes that she would
communicate with me at no distant day, and then I could have
the gratification of giving her her liberty, and insuring her safety
should she choose to return to me.”
“And you bought the claim?” breathed Hector.
“I did not; I will tell you why. `Had you proposed the thing
a month ago,' said the man, `you should have had her for a song.
Now it is different.' `How different?' I asked. `Because then
I had no hopes of ever hearing from her again.' `But now —'
`Now I have hopes,' said he, with a confidence that stunned me.”
“Here we are at home!” cried Mr. Copliff. “Wait and finish
your story, Lucy, after we get in. We will indulge in a little
refreshment; then, if you like, Dunbury, we will ride around to
the Battle House, and call on the Strikers. Keep the carriage
up, Parchment.”
Hector could not speak. Mechanically he helped the ladies
down, and accompanied them into the house.
“I have but a word to add,” said the younger of the two.
“There was a stubbornness and independence in the man, upon
which I could make no impression. He declared that, as matters
stood, he would sooner risk an entire loss, including the expense
he had incurred in the hope of recovering Camille, than sell his
claim for less than eight hundred dollars.”
“That is exorbitant!” exclaimed Mr. Copliff. “I would never
give that.”
“But if she is brought back, it would require a much larger
sum to purchase her. Consider, she is a beautiful —”
“But fugitives are not brought back so easy, my dear woman;
so don't be alarmed. Ah! there comes Helen, for our criticisms
on her ball-dress!”
A beautiful girl, of rather petite figure, but voluptuously formed,
made her appearance in a superb white attire, with jewels glittering
on her arms and in her hair.
“Well done!” cried her father. “There, Dunbury,” — turning
with a smile of pride to Hector, — “what do you think of
that?”
Helen started back, with a blush, at sight of her father's guest;
but, recovering herself presently, she advanced, self-possessed, with
a smile of welcome, to lay her delicate white-gloved hand in Hector's.
He took it coldly, and with a few formal and commonplace
words, uttered with effort, bowed stiffly, like an automaton.
“Is that New England gallantry?” cried Mr. Copliff, in a
rallying tone. “Come to me, darling; I will teach our cool
friend southern etiquette.” He bent down and kissed her tenderly
upon both cheeks. “There, go, my pet! You have a great
deal of snow and ice in Vermont, have you not?” turning again
to Hector.
“In their season,” said the young man, without a smile. “We
have fiery skies, too, in their turn. There is a time for everything
under the sun.”
Mr. Copliff perceived the pale anxiety of his face, and changed
his tone. “Well,” pressing his hand heartily, “we will not
quarrel about sectional differences. Let me show you to your
quarters. You will find your baggage there before you.”
“Mr. Dunbury has something to say to me,” interposed his
niece, gently, “if my impressions do not deceive me.”
“They do not!” exclaimed Hector; “I have something to say
to you.”
Mr. Copliff looked from one to the other, in astonishment.
“You are two incomprehensibles! You have progressed, for a
short acquaintance. Come, Mrs. De!” And, giving his sister
his arm, he led her with lofty politeness from the room.
Then Hector turned to Mrs. Graves.
“You knew I wished to speak with you!” he said, eagerly.
“I felt it!” exclaimed Mrs. Graves. “About Camille.”
“You are right. I know her. And, through her, I know
you!”
“I thought so. Tell me of her! Where is she?”
“In my father's house. I have come to make terms with —
the man who calls himself her owner! I supposed he would dispose
of his claim for any trifle. I hope I have not arrived too
late! If she has been discovered (that is what I fear), she must
be saved; she must be bought.”
“O, truly she must! I am not rich —”
“Nor I! But what I have I count but as straw in the balance
with her happiness! In my pocket-book is a draft for five hundred
dollars. By some means, — I do not yet know what, — I
must raise the remainder by to-morrow morning.”
“Depend upon me for that,” cried Mrs. Graves. “I claim the
privilege of doing at least so much —”
“Generous heart! — as if you had done nothing for her yet!
O,” said Hector, “you should hear her speak of you; it is always
with such gratitude, such love! For her sake, I accept your contribution.
Some day I shall be able to repay it, with interest!
Then I will thank you! Pardon my abruptness now, — excuse
me to Helen —”
“You are going?”
“I shall try to send a telegraphic despatch this evening. When
I return, you shall know all about Camille.”
Hector was intercepted in the hall by Mr. Copliff.
“What now?” cried the old gentleman.
“I was about to demonstrate the coolness of my Vermont temper,
by taking an unceremonious leave. I shall return in half
an hour. I have thought of a little matter of business — a telegraphic
despatch —”
“Is it so important? Then let Parchment drive you to the
office. Make haste to return, for supper will be waiting.”
“Thank you a thousand times!” and Hector mounted the
carriage, and rode away.
“What success?” asked Mrs. Graves, half an hour later,
meeting him in the hall.
“Dubious! I cannot learn until to-morrow whether the
despatch will go through to its destination.”
“We must be patient, and have faith till then!”
“Faith!” answered Hector. “O, to-morrow! to-morrow!”
“Wish yer happy new year, massa!” said old Juno, the cook,
looking up, and showing her good-natured face and broken teeth,
as her master came muttering down the stairs.
“I wish you a hundred thousand!” growled Dr. Tanwood,
tying his cravat, “and as many children!”
“Laws bless us! what 'u'd a' ol' 'oman do with so many new-years
as dat, say not'n' bout de chil'n?”
“Plague your masters with your everlasting clatter! There 's
no use trying to get any sleep in this house!”
“Laws, Massa! han't ye no idee what time o' day 't is? Clock
struck ten 'mos' 'n hour ago. Been a gen'l'man waitin' for ye, dis
half-hour!”
Buttoning his waistcoat, and sweeping his fingers across his hair,
Dr. Tanwood crossed the hall-floor, and entered his office.
Hector was in waiting.
“I hope I have not disturbed you —”
“O, not at all! I 've overslept myself a little this morning.”
The doctor looked in the glass which hung opposite the door, and
brushed his hair over his forehead. “What can I do for you,
sir?”
Hector was pale; his heart beat strong and fast. “I come to
you from Mrs. Graves.” The doctor fixed his searching glance
other day —”
“I remember,” — and the doctor nodded, with a peculiar smile.
“She is desirous to know if any circumstances have occurred
to alter your decision.”
“And if there have?”
“In that case, I am authorized to treat with you.”
The doctor sat silent for near a minute, his dark eyes studying
Hector, from beneath their gathered brows.
“Yes,” he exclaimed, “circumstances have occurred to alter
my decision.”
“Well?”
“For eight hundred dollars, I think it was, I engaged to make
over to Mrs. Graves my claim upon the girl Camille.”
“The sum she named,” assented Hector.
“She thought it too much.” The doctor leaned over, and
tapped the table significantly. “But, as matters now stand, it is
not enough. Prospects have risen; and my terms have gone up
in proportion.”
“Sir,” said Hector, “I do not understand. Your terms —”
“A thousand dollars, cash in hand,” said the doctor; and, with
an indifferent air, he smoothed down the lock of hair that lay
low upon his forehead.
“You must, then, be extremely confident —”
“Confident?” The doctor laughed. “Sir, I 'll wager the
price of her, that in a week, at the furthest, she 'll be seen in
Mobile! Then no money will buy her.”
A dizzy blur darkened Hector's vision. He leaned his head
upon his hand. He saw the danger that threatened Charlotte
clothed in all its terrors; and money seemed but as water to be
poured out for the security of her peace. Unfortunately, he had
but little more than eight hundred dollars at his command, and to
make a final offer of that was all that he could do.
“Not qu-i-t-e enough!” said the doctor.
“Then,” said Hector, “I must confer with Mrs. Graves.”
“Very good sir!” And, with a sinister smile, the doctor
arose to bow his visitor to the door.
Tortured with doubts, Hector hurried from the office. He
hastened to find an old friend, his former employer, of whom he
hoped for aid: he was absent from the city. Though stunned
momentarily by the news, he lost no time in idle regret, but,
mounting a coach, rode to the house of an eminent physician,
whom he knew. He was engaged at a consultation, and none
could tell when he would be home. Again in the coach, Hector
held his impatient spirit, until the slow vehicle brought him to
the door of a benevolent citizen, of whom he had formerly
received so many kindnesses that he had reason to hope for
more. The bell was muffled, and a colored servant opened the
door noiselessly. The master was dangerously ill, and could see
no one.
Foiled again in his purpose, Hector thought of Mr. Fobbles,
a merchant, to whom he had once rendered an important
service, and who had ever since been loud in his protestations
of friendship. In less than a quarter of an hour, the two
were standing face to face. Mr. Fobbles was delighted, and
invited the visitor to walk home with him to dinner. Unceremoniously,
Hector named the object of his visit. Mr. Fobbles
would have been rejoiced to accommodate him; “but, indeed, sir,
and indeed, sir! nothing could have happened so awkwardly!”
At any other time he could have taken so small a sum out of his
pocket, and given him; “but losses, sir, payments, perplexities —”
Hector broke impetuously away. Mr. Copliff was now his
last hope. He had dreaded to call on him for money, being his
guest. But his fears for Charlotte overcame every other consideration.
He reached the office. Mr. Copliff had just gone.
“Where?”
“To New Orleans, on business; he will be back this evening.”
Ten minutes later, Hector came upon his old friend, Joseph
Spalding, like an apparition.
“Merciful heavens!” exclaimed the young lawyer, “are you
substance or shadow?”
“Substance,” uttered Hector, “since I seek substantial aid.
Give me two hundred dollars!”
“That sounds like flesh and blood,” said Joseph; “but, tell
“Spendthrift! — no!” cried Hector. “But you should have
it! My more than life depends upon it!”
“Is it so serious?”
“Joseph, I have no time for words. Can you get me the
money?”
“True,” said Joseph, “I ought to be able to raise so small a
sum, and I will; but I do not see how I can possibly have it for
you before to-morrow.”
“To-morrow! there 's an eternity betwixt now and then!”
Hector returned to Mrs. Graves. She grew pale at the sight
of him. Words were needless to report his ill-success.
“I have nothing at my immediate command,” she said.
“What I gave you this morning, I borrowed of my uncle. Until
he returns —”
“I have a better thought!” cried Hector. “Can I see Mrs.
De Rohan?”
Mrs. Graves left the room, and the other lady entered. She
was a woman of the world; no more like her spiritual companion
than the moon is like the stars; but benevolence beamed in her
face, and beneath the gay externals of her life throbbed a warm
and generous heart. Hector approached her confidently.
“I have a confession to make to you, Mrs. De Rohan. I have
not been quite true with you. I met you last night as a
stranger.”
“And was I not so?”
“Not altogether, madam. The mention of your name startled
me; then, when I heard it remarked that you were from Canada,
I remembered you.”
“You had seen me, then?”
“I had heard of you. You must recollect a young girl who
partly engaged herself as your travelling companion —”
“Indeed! Miss Woods! A charming person! how much I
have thought of her since! And you know her!”
“Mrs. Graves knows her. It was of her she spoke last
night —”
“Of her — Miss Woods! — Camille?”
“They are the same!” And, without giving the other time to
recover from her astonishment, Hector poured forth the history.
In his manner, his voice, his looks, there was an energy that
swept everything before it. The other hesitated not an instant.
She demanded neither reasons nor explanations. She left the room,
and, returning straightway, placed in his hand a purse of gold.
“Take it!” she said, “and may it serve your purpose!”
Her features were suffused, her voice tremulous, her eyes filled
with tears. In the name of Charlotte, of humanity, of Him
whose mission was to loose the bonds of the oppressed, he uttered
his thanks, and hurried from the house.
Once more he confronted Dr. Tanwood. The doctor smiled,
and, bowing with ironic civility, invited him to a seat.
“Thank you,” said Hector. “I have seen Mrs. Graves.
And if you will please draw up the bill of sale —” The words
sounded strange and awful in his ear. A bill of sale, as of some
property: a horse, or an ox; a bill of sale of a human soul! Of
Charlotte! of his own wife!
The doctor, smiling still: “If I will draw it up —”
“I am prepared to comply with your terms.”
The doctor leaned over the table, and with gloating deliberation
fixed Hector with his hard, vindictive eye.
“But if my terms should not be precisely the same as two
hours ago?”
“Sir?”
“I have had news; and the presumptive value of my property
is increased.”
“Is this, sir, — is this honorable dealing?”
“Call it what you please! If you deal with me, you will take
what terms you can get.”
“Will you, then, be so good, sir,” — Hector spoke calmly, but
with a kindling fury in his look, — “as to name your ultimate
terms, that I may know what to depend upon?”
“Certainly; if it will be any satisfaction. Splice on two hundred
more, and you have it.”
“Twelve hundred?” articulated Hector.
“Precisely,” smiled the doctor.
“Will you have the kindness to put it in writing?”
“Certainly, when you produce the cash, provided live stock has
not taken another sudden rise.”
At this brutal allusion, Hector felt a dangerous leaping of the
blood. With fixed teeth, and lips compressed, he produced his
pocket-book. Two checks, one of five hundred dollars, the other
of three hundred, he laid upon the table. Then, resorting to
Mrs. De Rohan's purse, he emptied out a heap of British gold.
There was near double the amount he had asked for; and,
making up the requisite sum in small bills, he shoved it towards
the doctor.
“Is that satisfactory?”
“No!” burst forth the doctor, and he smote the table fiercely;
“not for twelve hundred, nor twenty hundred, nor twenty times
twenty hundred, will I quit my claim upon that girl!”
A ghastly pallor chased the flush from Hector's cheek.
“Can I know,” — his voice was forced, but calm, — “can I
know why I have been made the subject of this treatment?”
“By —! you can. I shall delight to show you! Look!” —
he threw back the hair from his forehead, and revealed a rugged
scar, — “do you know that? do you know me? do you know
this?” And, snatching from a drawer a handkerchief stained and
stiff with blood, he thrust it in Hector's face.
Hector stood upon his feet, and with rigid features kept his
firm look fixed upon the doctor's tiger-eyes.
“Are you satisfied? Do you understand me now?”
“At least, I understand you!” answered Hector. “We have
met before. I know you now. Revenge may be just and noble.
But, sir, let it fall on me. Do not make another — an innocent
girl — its victim.
“Your name is here,” — the doctor shook the handkerchief, —
“here, blotted by my blood! and there,” — striking a letter upon
the table, — “I hear of you in connection with your innocent girl!
I put the two together. And, sir, the owner of that name shall
see her make a pleasant journey back to Mobile, and stop her if
my word for it! And now, sir, allow me the pleasure of wishing
you a good-day.”
“I have a word,” said Hector. “I shall not argue; I shall
leave the business in other hands. But there is something struggling
here,” — his hand was upon his breast, — “and it must
forth! I met you once; you attacked me. I shivered a tumbler
in your face. In self-defence I did it. In self-defence I may do
something more. Be warned! Press not too far! Justice sets
bounds to vengeance. You will but beat your head against the
rocks, and bring them down upon you. As God exists, and heaven,
the day that sees Camille again in your power will be the blackest,
the most tragical, of your life. Remember!”
“We shall see!” said the doctor; but he spoke less jeeringly
than before. “If I live, the girl shall be brought back!”
Hector went forth from the house. In the street he met a
friend. It was Joseph. Hector stared, without appearing to recognize
him.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Joseph, “how haggard you look!
What has happened? See, I have borrowed the money; I was on
my way to find you.”
“You are kind, Joseph, but there is a trouble which money will
not heal!”
“Who knows? Come to my office. There 's no telling what
money can do. Give me your case, and trust to me for the
result.”
“Ah, Joseph, had I charged you with it in time! But it was
too sacred. And now it is too late! And while I am here, wasting
time and strength, there are those at home dying of despair in
my absence!”
| XXXV.
HECTOR'S JOURNEY. Neighbor Jackwood | |