CHAPTER XXXV.

A SAD EVENT.

Miss Elsworth stepped out of the door one afternoon and saw Bessie climbing cautiously along the ledge of rocks across the ravine. Her dark, luxuriant hair was floating like a dusky cloud about her shoulders, and there was a burning light in her dark blue eyes, and a crimson spot on either cheek.

"Bessie, Bessie," Miss Elsworth called, "come down."

"Hush," said Bessie, raising a warning finger. "If you make a loud noise I'll kill you; you know, don't you?"

"Yes, I know," said Blanche, with a fear that something was wrong. Bessie crept cautiously up the rocks, and seating herself she drew from her pocket her little pistol, and fired at what Miss Elsworth supposed to be an imaginary object.

"Ha, ha," laughed Bessie, as a shrill cry rent the air, followed by a deep groan as of some one in great distress.

Miss Elsworth stood for a moment as one frozen with terror.

"Oh, Bessie, Bessie, what have you done?" she asked, in a voice full of pity. "Have you killed your brother?"

"No, no," said Bessie, stepping cautiously down, "but I told you I meant some day to take his head off, and now I have done it. You see you don't understand all these things, but you can come with me if you want to see. He is just there behind that tree, that is where he fell. He did not see me, but I saw him just in time. Ha, ha, ha! Yes, yes, I'm coming; don't you see me? Don't you know Bessie?"

Miss Elsworth followed Bessie, and looking down by a cluster of bushes, saw a man, wounded and bleeding. Miss Elsworth stooped, and, lifting the hat which had fallen over his face, she uttered a cry almost as full of agony as those uttered by the man who had been wounded.

"Oh, Bessie, what have you done?" she asked, while her face grew deathly white. "Bessie, you have killed----"

"Yes, I know I killed him," said Bessie, as she stooped down and smoothed back the silken hair, and pressed her lips to those of the suffering man.

"You know I told you I would."

"You have done a very wicked act, Bessie."

"Have I?"

"Yes, see the poor man can scarcely speak, and he wants to talk to you."

"Well, he is my lover, and he can talk if he wants to; but I won't believe him. But don't you scold, for I told you I would take his head off. Didn't he kill me once--me and my baby? Why, yes, he just ground me down to the dust."

The man's pale lips moved, and regaining consciousness, he said: "I was just coming back to look at you once more; I wanted to find you again, and----"

"There, don't lie any more. You know you swore that you loved me once, but I don't believe a word you say."

"Bessie," said the man, raising his handsome head, "what made you do this if you loved me?"

Miss Elsworth looked at the man in surprise. It was now quite evident that he did not exactly understand the condition of Bessie's mind.

"Why, sir," she said, "do you not see that Bessie is insane."

"Good God, is that so?" said the man.

"Yes, and she has been so since she was cruelly deserted by her lover."

"Who was her lover?"

"Do you not know?" Blanche Elsworth asked, trying to stop the flow of blood that came from his side.

"Who did she say it was?" he asked, trying to appear unconcerned.

"Please do not talk any more," said Blanche

"Why not?"

"Because you are badly wounded, and I must go and find some one to help me take you to the house."

"To whose house--not Bessie's?"

"No, to mine."

"Who are you? Allow me to ask."

"Never mind who I am. I shall try to help you; so be quiet."

"You are not going to leave that crazy girl, are you? She will shoot me again," he said, looking at Bessie.

"Bessie, will you come with me?" said Blanche.

"Indeed, I will not! You can just leave me with my darling. Oh, I knew he would come some day. What made you wait so long? Why didn't you come and see--oh, well, never mind about that, you can never, never see it."

"Bessie, will you come with me?"

"No, Miss Robin, I won't--go on," said Bessie, with a fierce look in her eyes.

Blanche knew that to urge Bessie would be useless, so she hurried away, although she feared that Bessie would repeat the action of a few moments before; but there was nothing to do but to leave her and trust to the result. Her first act was to find Ross and make him acquainted with the affair, and ask his assistance in removing him to her house. Mrs. Morris said that she "wan't no coward, but she guessed she'd go up to t'other house, if Eliza and Eunice would take her place," which they willingly consented to do.

The wounded man was carried to the old house and placed in a comfortable bed and a physician sent for. Ross stood for a moment looking at the wounded man, and then his own face became colorless and his lips white and trembling.

"My God!" he said. "It is--it is her betrayer. Bessie, poor Bessie! You have saved me the deed that I swore to perform."

Bessie had followed closely behind Ross, and going toward him she said:

"Oh, Ross, ain't you glad I killed him?"

"Yes--oh, I hardly know, Bessie, whether I am glad or not. Poor little sister, I am so sorry for you."

"Oh, don't pity me, Ross. I told the ghosts I'd kill him, and I'm so glad he came."

"Hush, Bessie."

"Ha! ha! ha! I don't care, I can kill him again if I choose."

She stepped softly toward the bed, and throwing back the heavy mass of dusky hair, she raised her white hands above her head, and with her wild eyes fixed upon the face of the man before her she said:

"It is too bad to lie there that way. But just wait; to-night the ghosts will come and they will stand all about your bed and you will hear them laugh, and oh, how they will shriek and groan, and they will take you in their long, bony arms, just the way they did me, and carry you away out in the storm, and then they will set you down on your baby's grave."

"Take her away," said the wounded man.

"Ah, they can't take me away. I mean to stay here just as long as I want to, and I will tell you such nice long stories about the ghosts."

The man turned upon his pillow and tried to avoid the sight of Bessie's face, but she leaned over the bed, and looking straight into his eyes, she said: "Don't you think I am as beautiful as I was in those days--the days that you loved me so, and called me your darling Bessie? You remember, don't you? It was long, long ago; long before my baby died."

"Oh, Bessie, keep still."

"No, I won't; I'm going to tell you all about it."

"Then I shall leave you."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Bessie, "you see you can't do that. You left me once, but you can't get up now, and the ghosts are coming by and by to hold you down and then they will grin and nod their heads while I tell you all about a woman betrayed."

"Bessie, come with me," said Blanche.

"Miss Robin, keep still. I will not go."

"Take her away," said the wounded man impatiently.

"Let her remain," said Ross, in a hard, cold voice. "The time has come for your coward heart to bow to the will of a weak woman. I would not take advantage of you in your helpless state, but Bessie has the right, if she but had the power to tear your heart from your body."

"Who are you that dares to insult me?" said the man, trying to rise.

"I am her brother. Poor innocent Bessie; you would better have murdered her than to have flattered and deceived her the way you did."

"He said he loved me," said Bessie.

"Mr. Graves, are you not afraid you will injure the man?" Miss Elsworth asked.

"Injure him!" Ross repeated sneeringly. "Could I injure him enough to repay him for the ruin he has wrought in our home? No, his miserable soul is not worth a place in the world, and death is not half enough punishment for him."

"Please, Mr. Graves, do not get so excited."

Ross Graves looked down at the lovely face beside him, and the look of bitter hatred on his own melted to one of extreme sadness, and as the physician entered he turned and left the room. A careful examination was made, but the ball which had entered the man's side, could not be found, and the physician gave as his opinion that recovery was doubtful.

Mrs. Morris had summoned sufficient courage to enter the house, and stepping cautiously toward the bed, she looked steadily into the face of the wounded man, and then a pitiful cry escaped her lips.

"Oh, my boy! my boy!" she shrieked. "I have found you at last! Oh dear, oh dear, and you have come here to be shot by that crazy lunatic!"

"Come, old lady, don't take on so; it's bad enough to be shot without having such goings on as this about it."

"Oh, my poor boy, after huntin' all over the world for you, and to find you like this is the awfullest thing that ever was. What made you stay away so long? I was in hopes you'd come back and take care of me, but of course they ain't so much need of it now, 'cause the deacon, he'll do that; but oh dear, oh dear."

"Mrs. Morris, you had better take Bessie and go away for a while," said Miss Elsworth.

"Why, you don't s'pose I could go out with that crazy lunatic, do you? Why, she'd be takin' my head off, too."

"Bessie, come."

It was Ross calling her and she ran out of the door and skipped away over the meadow toward her home.

"Oh, Charley, my boy, tell me all about it. Where did you stay all the while, and did not come to your poor mother that was jest layin' awake o' nights on account of you?"

"Now, say, old woman, what the deuce is the sense of you taking on so? You can't do any good, and where's the use of you making all that fuss?"

"La me, I never thought that o' you, Charley."

"You see there is lots of things you never thought of, and this is one of them."

"But, Charley, s'pose you'd die! Oh dear! oh dear! Where do you s'pose you'd go to?"

"To the devil, as likely as not."

"Oh, don't talk like that!"

"Max Brunswick," said Miss Elsworth, as she stood by his bedside, "if you have no fear of a hereafter, I wish you would have respect enough for your poor mother to speak in milder terms. It is hard enough to see you in the condition that you are without making a bad matter worse by making light of the future."

"How do you know my name is Brunswick?"

"It matters not how I know, but I know you have been called by that name."

"Who are you?" he asked, in a careless way.

"I am just as you see me, a woman ready to help you in time of need, and it is my intention to do all in my power to add to your comfort."

"Well, you are a devilish pretty one, at any rate."

Blanche Elsworth's face burned with a blush of insulted pride, and she was about to give an angry retort when her better judgment prevailed, and crushing down the anger she felt, she said in a quiet way:

"Mr. Brunswick, please do not speak so to me again."

"Why not?"

"I am here to help supply your wants, that you may regain your health, if it is God's will that you live, but I am not here to listen to any senseless flattery, and I strictly forbid a repetition of such words."

"But if I fall in love with you I can't help it, for you are a devilish handsome woman."

"I would advise you not to throw away your love," she said, coldly, "and as for me, I should prefer the love of a gentleman."

"Well, since you are so wonderfully particular, let me ask you what they call you?"

"Miss Elsworth."

"What, the authoress!"

"I suppose so."

"I beg your pardon, I didn't know I was falling in love with one so far above me."

"You are quite excusable, but please bear in mind that it matters not what one's name may be, every honest woman is worthy of at least common respect, which is less than you have shown me."

"Charley, you must be civil to Miss Elsworth, for she's so good, and she'll do all she can for you."

"Yes, they are all angels; at least I think so."

A week later Blanche Elsworth sat by the bedside of Charley Morris. He had suffered intense pain, during the night, and the morning found him weak and fretful. He turned his handsome head on his pillow, and looking steadily at Miss Elsworth for the space of a moment, he said:

"How did you know that my name was Brunswick?"

"Because I have seen you before, and was told that your name was Brunswick."

"Well, it's devilish strange how things get out, anyway."

"Was it a secret?"

"No, but I'd like to know where you ever saw me."

"You once lived in San Francisco, and also in San Bernardino, did you not?"

"Yes, and I should have stayed there."

"You came to see Bessie, did you not?"

"Yes, but I did not have the least idea that she had gone mad. I thought I'd come and take a look at her once more. She was a little beauty, and she would be yet if it was not for those wild-looking eyes of hers. I wonder what made her crazy?"

"Max Brunswick, you feign ignorance of Bessie's trouble, but you know how you flattered her while at school, how you wrecked her young life and brought a dark cloud over one of the happiest of homes--a cloud which never can be lifted, for poor little Bessie's disgrace and her love for you has made her incurably insane, and, one day your child and hers will confront you and show you the cause of all her heartaches."

"I wish the girl had been in the asylum before she saw me and gave me that dose of lead."

"You no doubt thought her still full of confidence and as easily flattered as ever."

"Well, yes, I did think perhaps she was as lovable as ever, and to tell the truth I was a little homesick to see her and I thought perhaps she would overlook my leaving her as I did, for she did love me to distraction."

"Where have you left Irene Wilmer?"

Max started as though he would spring from his bed, but Miss Elsworth gently moved him back.

"What do you know of Irene Wilmer?" he asked.

"I know she is one of your victims, as is also Bessie Graves, and I ask you where you left her."

"I left her out west, some time ago."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"I can tell you."

"Where is she?"

"Dead," Miss Elsworth answered, in a low voice.

"Dead, Irene dead," he repeated.

"Yes, she is dead."

"Tell me, where did she die?"

"With her husband."

"Scott Wilmer?"

"Yes."

"Did he take her back to his home?"

"Yes, and cared for her during her sickness, as tenderly as though she had never disgraced him."

"Well, I must say, he has a mighty sight softer head than ever I would have had. I don't believe any woman could fool me that way."

"Why did you entice her away from her home and a man who loved her?"

"Why, if you ever saw her you must know she was a mighty pretty woman, and if she fancied me more than she did Wilmer it was no fault of mine."

Blanche turned from the man in disgust. She left the room, and walked out to breathe the fresh air. Mrs. Morris, worn out with watching at the bedside of her son, was sleeping soundly in her room upstairs. Max lay with his eyes fixed upon the wall, seemingly buried in his own reflections. A shadow darkened the doorway, and, turning his eyes, Max beheld Bessie gliding stealthily toward him. Her dusky hair hung like a midnight cloud around her sloping shoulders, and contrasted strangely with the marble whiteness of her lovely face. The wild gleam in her blue eyes had given place to a soft look of tender pity.

"Darling," she said, seating herself near the bed, "I am so sorry."

Max looked a moment at the beautiful face ere he spoke. He hardly knew whether he felt safe in the presence of a maniac or not, even though she was a frail woman.

"What for?" he asked, at length.

"I am sorry for you because you see you are going away to the spirit land. There will be, oh so many ghosts to dance about your grave, and perhaps I will come, too. I will not keep you waiting so long. I waited and waited until I grew, oh so very tired. You see I thought you would come, and I waited so long, I cried every day, and my heart was broken, yes, broken."

"Hush, Bessie."

"No, I won't hush. I came to tell you all about my beautiful little baby; she lies out under the rose tree. Some night when the storm comes on you can go and ask the ghosts to show you where she sleeps. I am not mad, just tired. Oh, you do not know how tired I get waiting for him. He said he loved me and would marry me. He said my hair and eyes were lovely, and you know I believed him."

"So they are, Bessie."

"Don't you say that again. I would never believe it if you did. All men are devils--devils."

"Then I am as good as the rest," said Max, carelessly.

"You see I had to come," said Bessie, drawing a little closer, "for they are digging your grave out there close beside the baby's, and they told me to tell you. The ghosts are all around, laughing because you are coming. They are going to put you in the grave and cover you all over with skulls, and bleeding hearts, and then, away down in the darkness, you will wait, and wait, and watch for some one to come and take you away, and who do you think will come?"

"You have talked enough," said Max.

"You don't want to know, but I will tell you. It will be Bessie, the maniac. Do you know Bessie, that you loved once? You can't get away now, for the maniac has come to take you down to the dark, cold grave, where all the souls of mad women are calling your name."

Max raised himself, and leaning his head on his elbow, his eyes grew almost as wild as though he, too, were a maniac.

"Girl," he said, "leave me; you will drive me mad, too."

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Bessie, as she drew a sharp, glittering knife from her bosom.

Max drew back in affright.

"Darling," she shrieked, "we are going away together to find the ghosts, and we will make the air ring with the wild music that we shall make as we dance and leap over the graves that are waiting for us."

She raised the knife, and with superhuman strength held him fast, and buried it in the heart of her betrayer. As a loud curse arose to his lips, and his head fell backward, she plunged the knife into her own heart, and with a wailing cry she sank upon the breast of the man she had so fondly and so unwisely loved.

The noise awoke Mrs. Morris, who came down trembling and white with fear, and at the same moment Miss Elsworth entered the door.

"Bessie, Bessie," she said, and her clasped hands and amazed look betrayed the deep emotion she felt. "What is it, my poor girl?"

She sprang forward, and raising Bessie's head, she leaned against the bed for support, and with a voice full of agony, she said:

"Oh, God help us! Mrs. Morris, they are both dead."

"Oh, Charley, my boy! I can't look at you; ah, my beautiful boy, why did you come here to be killed in this way?"

Thus ended the lives of the betrayed and the betrayer--the beautiful, innocent, confiding Bessie, and the false, deceitful, selfish man of the world. They laid them side by side and at their heads a modest stone marked "Charles" and "Bessie," and none who had heard of the sad, sad story of wrong and revenge could look upon their graves with tearless eyes.