CHAPTER XXX.

"What devil's here, dragging the dead to life, To overthrow me?"

"Who art thou? Speak! speak!"

"The features all are changed, But the voice grows familiar on my ears."

LOVELL

Jaspar Dumont was seated in the library. The ravages of care and vice were growing more plainly visible on his face. His countenance was haggard, and his complexion seemed to be a struggle between the wanness of care and the redness of intemperance.

Near him sat De Guy, who had but just arrived.

"The lady has come," said the attorney, adjusting his green spectacles; "and I am here to claim the fulfilment of our contract."

Jaspar looked up from the floor, upon which his eyes had been fastened, and gazed with a fixed stare upon his companion.

"You do not understand me," insinuated De Guy.

"I do," said Jaspar, sternly; "I do; you have come to plunder me."

"You do me injustice, my kind friend; I come to save you from the doom of a felon."

"To put your foot upon my neck, and leap out of the pit your villany has dug!"

"Very well, my dear sir, if you are of this mind, my course is plain. Did you not agree to this arrangement?" said De Guy, with a smile, which was meant to soften the hard question.

"True, I did," replied Jaspar, with a whining sullenness. "What would you have of me now?"

"Only that you fulfil the stipulations of the bargain."

"Can I fulfil them? Can I marry you, even if the girl were willing?"

"You can give your commands. Will she not obey them?"

"Fool if she does!" muttered Jaspar, in a low tone.

"She will be so glad to be restored to her home, I fancy she will not think the terms are hard."

"I don't know," said Jaspar, eying the attorney from head to foot. "I consent to the marriage. I can do no more."

"Perhaps you will be willing to use a little gentle force, to save your own neck," said the attorney, with something like a sneer.

"Anything, anything, that will silence your damning tongue, and rid me of your teasing!"

"Now, sir, you are reasonable."

"Summon the girl," said Jaspar, impatiently. "I will say all I have to say in a few words. But, if she foils you, it is not my fault."

"True sir; but Miss Dumont, at this critical juncture of her affairs, will have respect for your counsels;" and the attorney withdrew to call her.

Emily entered the abode of her early years, and the memories of the past came crowding thick upon her. She seemed to realize that her sorrows were near an end, but the hope which such a pleasant thought inspired could not entirely overcome the gloom which the scene around her was calculated to produce. It was here she had often rambled with her father, and a thousand trivial incidents presented themselves to remind her of him.

As she entered the house, she clung to the arm of Vernon, as though she was entering the abode of evil spirits; for, with all the memories of the past, she could not forget that the home of her childhood was inhabited by her inhuman uncle.

She had been but a short time seated in the old, familiar drawing-room, like a stranger now, when De Guy entered, to request her presence in the library. She rose, and looked at Vernon, who, understanding the glance, approached, as if to bear her company.

"This gentleman had better remain here," suggested De Guy.

"I prefer that he should attend me," said Emily, firmly, even while her heart rose to her throat, at the thought of meeting her uncle.

"But really, madam, his presence would embarrass the business of the interview."

"He is a friend," stammered Emily, "and is acquainted with all the circumstances of this affair."

"I will attend her, sir," said Vernon, who had before remained silent.

"Pardon me," said the attorney, looking sharply at Vernon, "but it will be impossible to transact any business in presence of others."

"Lead on," said Vernon, sternly; "I will attend the lady, in spite of all objections."

"Sir, you are insolent!" said the attorney, tartly, though without the loss of his self-possession.

"The gentleman will not in the least retard the business. Pray pass on," interposed Emily, fearful of a collision between the parties.

"It is impossible, madam. I must insist that he remain here. Such is Mr. Dumont's express order."

"Will you say to Mr. Dumont that the lady demands my attendance? Perhaps he will yield the point," answered Vernon.

"I will see him, but it is useless. I know his views;" and De Guy left the room.

"Do not hesitate to go with him, Miss Dumont; I will be close at hand; but no violence will be offered you. I see my father and Captain Carroll coming up the road," said Vernon, looking out the window. "Yield, if necessary, and fear nothing."

"Mr. Dumont persists in his purpose of meeting the lady alone," said De Guy, as he reëntered the drawing-room.

"The lady, in your absence, has concluded to dispense with my attendance," replied Vernon.

"This way, madam,"--and the attorney, with punctilious politeness, led the way.

Vernon threw himself upon a sofa, as they were leaving; but no sooner had the door closed, than he rose in haste, and left the apartment. Reaching the veranda of the house, he met Dr. Vaudelier and Henry Carroll, who followed him back to the drawing-room.

"This way, silently, if you please," said he, and then closed the door. A moment sufficed to inform the new comers of the position of affairs; then Vernon left the room, and went to the library door, which he found, by Henry's direction. Stationing himself in a recess behind some coats, he waited till his presence should be needed.

The meeting between Emily and her uncle was not embarrassed by any formal greetings. Jaspar did not even raise his eyes from the floor, as she entered. He heard the door close, and being aware by the silence of the parties--for De Guy had judged an announcement unnecessary--that they were ready to hear him, he said, in a gentle tone,

"Emily, I have sent for you to receive a proposition, which will finally terminate the unfortunate circumstances that have shrouded our family in hostility and misery."

"Indeed, uncle, I have no feeling of hostility towards you. God forbid!" replied Emily, upon whose agitated senses Jaspar's mild words had fallen like promises of peace.

Jaspar was astonished. He had lost much of the severity of his disposition in the miseries which had overtaken him. He was humiliated, his spirit broken, and he could not understand why his victim did not upbraid him, as he expected, for the wrongs he had inflicted. A momentary hope of reconciliation on better terms crossed his mind; but there stood the attorney, who would permit no other compromise.

"I restore your fortune," said Jaspar, with a shudder, as he raised his head for the first time from the floor to look upon his niece,--"I restore it, on one condition."

"Name not the fortune, uncle; your peace and happiness are far dearer to me than all the wealth of the world. You have wronged me, but I freely forgive you; and Heaven will also forgive you, if you sin no more. O, uncle, I beseech you dismiss this evil man, and let me be to you as a daughter!"

"Let us attend to business, if you please, Mr. Dumont," said the attorney, in a whining tone; for, it must be confessed, the conversation had assumed a different turn from what he had anticipated.

"I must state the business for which I requested your presence," said Jaspar, not a little moved by the words of Emily. Human nature is a strange compound of inconsistencies. This man, whose life had been stained with crime, was now disposed to regard the past with contrition. We have seen him scorning even an allusion to the higher life of the soul,--but success was then within the reach of his crime-stained hand! Now, failure on every hand awaited him, and all those bravadoes with which he had kept down his better nature deserted him. Not one scornful thought came to banish the good angel from his presence. But the feeling was of short duration. It was but a momentary contrition, which a selfish hope or a burst of passion could dissipate.

"I will restore your fortune, on one condition," said he. "You can accept or reject it, at your option."

"I beg your pardon," suggested the attorney, "these were not exactly the terms of our contract."

"Name the condition, uncle," added Emily, indifferently; for she was anxious to have the business, whatever it might be, finished, so that she could again plead with Jaspar for his personal reformation, for she was a little encouraged by the appearance of humiliation he had manifested.

"I restore your fortune, on condition that you give your hand to this gentleman in marriage;"--and Jaspar again fixed his eyes on the floor, as if he dreaded the outbreak of a storm.

"This gentleman!" exclaimed Emily, indignantly. "This gentleman!"--and she gazed upon him with a proud look of contempt, from which the attorney would fain have hid his head. Her surprise was equal to her indignation. Vernon had told her that _Maxwell_ was to be the suppliant for her hand, and she could not see why his menial had the presumption to claim her.

"This gentleman!" repeated Emily. "I had rather die a thousand deaths!"

"Then, madam, we shall be obliged to compel you to this step," replied De Guy, stung by the scorn of Emily, and distrusting the energy of Jaspar.

"Sir, your impertinence deserves a severer rebuke than I can administer!" said Emily, the blood mounting to her face.

"But it must be even so, madam," returned the attorney coolly. "Fate has so decreed. Your good uncle's circumstances imperatively demand it."

"Is this so, uncle?"

"It is, Emily. You must submit to your fate, unpleasant though it may be," said Jaspar, looking at her with an absent stare.

"No, uncle, it shall not be so. I never will submit to such a fate. What circumstances do you refer to?"

"I am in this man's power."

"God be with you, then! But I understand it all. He seeks my fortune, not myself. I would rather he had the whole of it, than become such a _thing_ as to marry that man!"

"Nay, lady, _you_ are of more worth to me than your fortune, large as it is. I have contracted with your uncle for your hand, and he must pay the price," said De Guy.

"He speaks truly, Emily. I have _sold_ you to him," replied Jaspar, vacantly.

Emily was stung to the quick. This remark, she supposed, was in allusion to her alleged condition; and the tears rose to her eyes, while the indignant blood mounted to her cheek.

"Uncle, do not brand your soul with infamy!" she said, quickly.

"What!" exclaimed Jaspar, roused to a burst of passion.

"Be not a villain!" returned Emily, whose good-nature was sorely tried.

"Girl, beard not the lion in his den! I had half relented, but now I feel strong again!" and he rose and tottered to the table, on which his brandy-bottle stood. After taking a deep draught, he reseated himself.

"You must marry this man!" said he, fiercely striking the table with his fist.

"I never will!" replied Emily, trembling at Jaspar's violence, but firm in her purpose.

"Remember! girl, remember what you are!" said Jaspar, passionately.

"Enough of this," said Emily. "I leave you for--"

"Stay, lady! You must not leave the room," interrupted De Guy, laying his hand upon her arm.

"Remove your hand, villain, nor dare to pollute me with your touch!" exclaimed Emily, shaking off his hand as though it had been contamination.

The hitherto placid features of the attorney darkened into a scowl of malignity, as he said,

"Madam, we have been too long subject to your caprice. Here let it end. Know that mighty interests depend upon the union this day to be consummated, and we refuse longer to submit to your whims."

"Yes, Emily, the honor and safety of your family name depend upon your acquiescence in this plan," said Jaspar, whose passion had moderated a little.

"I will never countenance any of your unhallowed plots," replied Emily, and she again moved towards the door.

"You leave not the room till you consent to this union," interposed De Guy.

"Stand from my path, or I will summon assistance!"

"Your summons would be in vain."

With a proud step and a curling lip, Emily attempted to advance; but De Guy seized her by the arm, and restrained her. She struggled to free herself from the villain's grasp, without success. Knowing that Vernon was within hearing of her, she called "Jerome," at the top of her voice.

"No use, madam. The gentleman whose name you utter is a friend of mine," said the attorney. "He conveyed you here as an emissary of mine. Haven't you known him before?" said De Guy, with a mixture of sarcasm and triumph in the tones of his squeaky voice.

The door-handle was at this moment seized on the outside. The door was wrenched and pushed, but it did not yield, for De Guy had taken the precaution to lock it.

"Who is there?" shouted the attorney, alarmed at the intrusion.

"Open," said Jerome, "or I force the door!"

"What does this mean?" asked Jaspar, who had remained a quiet spectator to the violence offered his niece.

"I will soon ascertain," said De Guy, dragging Emily after him, towards a large closet on the other side of the room.

"Help! help!" again screamed Emily; and, ere she had the second time uttered the word, a crash was heard, the library-door splintered, and Vernon stood in the room.

"How is this? Villain! traitor!" shouted De Guy, drawing from his pocket a revolver.

"Unhand the lady!" said Vernon, in a severe tone, as, at the same time, he drew from his pocket a pistol. "Unhand her!" and he approached the lawyer.

"Back, traitor, or you die!" said De Guy, in a voice which suddenly lost its silky tone, and was firm and round.

"Then I die like a man!" responded Vernon, still advancing.

Jaspar's ferocious nature, stimulated to activity by the prospect of a fight, now promised to revive his spirits and nerve his arm. He advanced behind Vernon, and, ere he was aware, had clasped both hands around him. Vernon tried to free himself from the bearish hug, and they both fell to the floor. Jaspar still held tight, and the struggle promised to be a severe one.

De Guy perceived the movement of Jaspar, and, as soon as the combatants had fallen to the floor, he restored the pistol to his pocket, so that, unembarrassed, he might convey Emily to a place of security, until this unlooked-for contest was ended. Scarcely was the pistol in his pocket, when the window behind him flew open, and the attorney was in the iron grip of a powerful arm! Emily, freed from her assailant, retreated to the other side of the room, where, glancing in terror upon the new assault, she saw De Guy thrown violently upon the floor by her ever-present and ever-faithful slave, Hatchie!

The mulatto, having been allowed the liberty of the yard early in the evening before, had contrived to effect his escape from the calaboose, and had walked the whole distance from Now Orleans.

Henry Carroll and Dr. Vaudelier had heard the confusion, and judged that the conflict had begun with something more than the war of words. Hatchie had scarcely done his work when Henry reached the library, and rescued Vernon from the hands of Jaspar.

The contest was ended, and the victors and vanquished stood contemplating each other in mute astonishment. Dr. Vaudelier, who had followed Henry into the room, assisted Jaspar to rise, and conducted him to a chair. The courage of the vanquished seemed entirely to have oozed out, and they remained doggedly considering the new state of things.

Hatchie bent over his fallen foe, and, drawing from his pocket the revolver and bowie-knife which rendered him a formidable person, he loosed his firm hold of him, as if it was an acknowledgment of weakness to hold him longer a close prisoner. Seizing the prostrate lawyer by the hair, he bade him rise, at the same time giving a sharp twist to the ornamental appendage of his cranium. But the hair yielded to the motion of his hand, and the entire scalp scaled off, bringing with it the huge parti-colored whiskers, and revealing a beautiful head of black, curly hair, where the mixed color had before predominated!

"What does this mean? Methinks I have seen that head of hair before," said Henry Carroll.

"The face is not of the natural color," added Dr. Vaudelier, remarking that the skin of the forehead, which the wig had concealed, was very white, and almost transparent, while the face was besmeared with the color that composed the florid complexion of the attorney.

"Take off his spectacles, Hatchie," said Henry.

The glasses were removed, and a pair of piercing black eyes glared upon them.

"It is Maxwell, by ----," shouted Jaspar, who had in some measure recovered from the exhaustion of his struggle with Vernon, and had watched with much anxiety the "unearthing" of his confederate.

"It is Maxwell," responded Hatchie, tearing open the vest which encircled the attorney's portly form, and displaying the cushion that had been used to extend his corporation.

"Merciful Heaven! how narrowly have I escaped!" exclaimed Emily, laying her head in giddy faintness upon the shoulder of Henry, who, at the moment he was at liberty, had flown to her side.

At this moment Mr. Faxon entered, and saw, with astonishment, the evidence of the recent fray.

"Justice is triumphant, I see," said he, taking Emily by the hand, and affectionately congratulating her upon her return to Bellevue.

"Heaven has been more indulgent to me than I deserve,--has preserved me from a thousand perils I knew not of; and has, at last, placed me again in this haven of repose!" replied Emily.

"Bless His holy name, my child; for, though we forget Him, He can never forget us!" said the minister, devoutly.

"Well, gentlemen," interrupted Jaspar, with a bitter scowl, "I trust, when you have finished your cant, you will depart, and leave me in peace."

"We will, at this lady's pleasure," said Dr. Vaudelier.

"Hell! would you trifle with me?" roared Jaspar, rising in a passion. "Would you turn me out of my house?"

"Never yours, Mr. Dumont! Heaven has restored the innocent and oppressed to her rights," answered Mr. Faxon, calmly.

"Uncle," said Emily, earnestly, "let me entreat you to lay aside the terrible aspect you have worn, and be again even as you once were. The past shall be forgotten, and I will strive to make the future happy."

Jaspar gazed at her with a vacant stare, and, muttering some unintelligible words, sunk back into his chair, and buried his face beneath his hands. The consciousness of the utter failure of the plan he had cherished for years, and the terrible obloquy to which his crime subjected him, rushed like an earthquake into his mind. He was completely subdued in spirit, and groaned in his anguish.

"The way of the transgressor is hard," remarked Mr. Faxon, in pitying tones.

These words were heard by Jaspar. They touched his pride. He could not endure the notes of pity. He raised his head, and his eyes glared with the fury of a demon.

"Leave the house, sir!" gasped he, choking with passion. "Leave my house, or I will tear you limb from limb! I can do it, and I _dare_ do it!" and he started suddenly to the floor. "Yes, I _dare_ do it, if you mock me with your canting words!"

His eyes rolled like a maniac's, and he gasped for breath, as he continued,

"I am a murderer already!--a double murderer! Dalhousie and his wife have felt my vengeance. They have starved like dogs! Their prison is their tomb!"

"Compose yourself, Mr. Dumont," said Mr. Faxon; "your soul is still free from the heavy burden of such a guilt. Dalhousie and his wife live."

"You lie, canting hypocrite! No mortal arm can save them. They have been eight days in my slave jail. Here are the keys," gasped Jaspar, drawing them from his pocket.

"You shall see; I will call them," said Mr. Faxon.

Dalhousie and his wife, followed by Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, entered the room.

Jaspar fixed his glaring eyes upon those whom he supposed were rotting within the precincts of his Inquisition. His power of speech seemed to have deserted him, and he shook all over like an aspen-leaf.

To Jaspar alone on the estate was the secret of Dalhousie's imprisonment known. He had not approached the jail, and if any other person was aware that it had been undermined, they had not communicated the fact to him.

As the last party entered, Dr. Vaudelier turned to look upon the new comers. Starting suddenly from his chair, he approached them, and gazed with earnestness into the face of Delia.

"Is it possible!" said he.

"My God,--my father!" and father and daughter were locked in each other's embrace.

Maxwell, stripped of his disguise, and ruined in his own opinion, and in the opinion of everybody else, had watched all the proceedings we have narrated in silence. Ashamed of the awkward appearance he made in his undress, and confused by the sudden change in his affairs, he was at a loss to know which way to turn.

Henry Carroll realized the sense of embarrassment that pervaded all parties, and was desirous of putting an end to the state of things which promised nothing but strife and confusion. So he directed Hatchie to fasten Maxwell's hands together, and keep him secure. This step the attorney seemed not inclined to permit, and a struggle ensued.

"Mr. Dumont," said he, "is this by your order?"

"No," replied Jaspar, anxious to secure at least one friend. "No! I am still in my own house, and the law will protect me."

"Certainly," returned Maxwell; "this is all a farce. There is not a single particle of evidence to disprove the will."

"Well, now, I reckon there is a leetle grain," said Uncle Nathan, stepping forward and producing the will, which had been intrusted to him on board the Chalmetta. "This will set matters about right, I rayther guess."

"What mean you, fellow?" said Jaspar. "What is it?"

"The genuine will," replied Hatchie, still holding Maxwell. "I gave it into his hands. To explain how I came by it, I need only call your attention to a certain night, when I surprised you and this honorable gentleman in this very apartment."

"It is all over!" groaned Jaspar.

"This is a forgery!" exclaimed Maxwell.

"Ay, a forgery!" repeated Jaspar, catching the attorney's idea. "Who can prove that this is a correct will, and the other false?"

"I can," said Dalhousie. "Here is a duplicate copy, with letters explaining the reason for making it, in the testator's own hand-writing."

Dalhousie candidly stated the means by which he had obtained possession of the papers, and trusted his indiscretion would be overlooked. Dr. Vaudelier frowned, as his son-in-law related the unworthy part he had performed, and perhaps felt a consciousness of the good intentions which had years before induced him to refuse his consent to the marriage of his daughter.

Jaspar yielded the point; but Maxwell, in the hope of gaining time, boldly proclaimed all the papers forgeries.

"It matters not; we will not stop to discuss the matter now. Tie his hands, Hatchie," said Henry Carroll, and, with the assistance of others, he was bound, and handed over to a constable, upon the warrant of Mr. Faxon, who was a justice.

The party separated,--Henry and Emily seeking the grove in front of the house, to congratulate each other on the happy termination of their season of difficulty. The meeting between Dr. Vaudelier and his son and daughter was extremely interesting, and the hours passed rapidly away, in listening to the experience of each other. The meeting concluded with the making of new resolves, on the part of Dalhousie, to seek "the great purpose of his life" by higher and nobler means.

As the dinner-hour approached, the happy parties were summoned by Mr. Faxon to visit his house, and partake of his hospitality. The good man was never happier in his life than when he said grace over the noon-day meal, surrounded by the restored heiress of Bellevue, and her happy friends.

CONCLUSION.

"From that day forth, in peace and joyous bliss, They lived together long, without debate; Nor private jars nor spite of enemies Could shake the safe assurance of their states."

SPENSER.

Our story is told. It only remains to condense the subsequent lives of our characters into a few lines.

Jaspar Dumont lingered along a few weeks after the return of Emily; but his life had lost its vitality. Continued devotion to the demon of the bottle laid him low,--he was found dead in the library, having been stricken with an apoplectic fit.

After the death of Jaspar, Maxwell was tried for a variety of crimes, and sentenced to the penitentiary for ten years.

Dr. Vaudelier, accompanied by Dalhousie and his wife, removed to New Orleans, where they spent many happy years, devoted to those pure principles of truth and justice which the events of our history contributed not a little to create and strengthen.

Vernon,--or, as he has changed his character, we may venture to change his name,--Jerome Vaudelier, went to California in the first of the excitement; where, amid the temptations of that new and dissolute land, he yet maintains the integrity he vowed to cherish on the night of the attack upon Cottage Island.

Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan spent a few days at Bellevue, and then started for the North. The honest yeoman, either on account of the many adventures they had passed through together, or because Pat was a true convert of his, had taken quite a fancy to the Hibernian, and insisted that he should accompany him home. Pat became a very worthy man, after abandoning the "critter," which had been his greatest bane. For three years he served our New Englander faithfully on the farm, at the end of which period his desire to get ahead prompted him to take a buxom Irish girl to his bosom, and go to farming on his own hook. A visit of Henry and Emily, about this time, to the worthy farmer, contributed to forward this end; for Pat, with Celtic candor and boldness, stated to them his views and purposes. Before the heiress left, Pat's farm was bought and paid for, besides being well stocked, by her princely liberality.

Jerry Swinger and his wife, who had rendered such important services to Emily, were not forgotten. The honest woodman disdained to receive compensation for any service he or his good wife had rendered, but Emily found a way to render them comfortable for life, without any sacrifice of pride on their part.

One year after the events which close our history the great mansion at Bellevue was the scene of gay festivities. Dr. Vaudelier and his daughter, and Dalhousie, and Jerry Swinger and all his family, were there, because, in the hour of its owner's greatest happiness, she could not be without those who had been her friends in the season of adversity. All the country round was there,--New Orleans was there,--everybody was there, to witness the nuptials of the fair heiress and the gallant Captain Carroll.

The great drawing-room was brilliantly illuminated. The happy couple entered the room, and stood up before Mr. Faxon. A step behind Emily, watching the proceedings with as much interest as a fond father would witness the espousal of a beloved daughter, stood Hatchie. Race and condition did not exclude him from the proud and brilliant assemblage that had gathered to honor the nuptials of his mistress.

They were married, and, ere the good minister had concluded his congratulations, the huge yellow palm of the faithful slave was extended to receive the white-gloved hand of the bride. Nor did she shrink from him. With a sweet smile, and a look which told how deep were her respect and admiration, she gave him her hand, heedless of the proud circle which had gathered around her to be first in their offering of good wishes.

"God bless you, Miss Emily! Bless you!" said he, and the tear stole into his eye, as he withdrew from the crowd.