Nebraska Newspapers

    '-J-.'V 4 f
9
Jpirtie
VOL. IX.
NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA. WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1893.
NO. 46.
PANIC !
"We have bought at panic prices goods for SPOT CASH
. at the lowest prices, thereby giving our customers
. and friends the benefit. NOW IS YOUR
TIME TO BUY FOR CASH
Clothing, : Boots, : Shoes,
Hats and Caps and
Gents' Furnishing Goods
FOR LESS MONEY THAN YOU EVER
HAVE HERETOFORE OR YOU WILL AT
ANY TIME HEREAFTER:
-Do not DELAY the GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY now
offered to YOU, but come at ONCE and see the
EnE3EOTjE3: STOCZ!
of goods, see our prices, examine the quality and con
vince yourself.
MODEL
01,
LEADERS OF LOW PRICES.
IEIn.steIrx, Proprietor.
North Platte National "Bank,
NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA.
-3Paid Tip Capital.
&75.000.
DIRECTORS:
w XT DrBOE, ' O. M. CARTER,
C. T. IDDINGS, M. C. LINDSAY,
A. T. 8TRKITZ, TI. OTTKX,
D. W. BAKER.
M. OBEKBT,
A. D. BUCKWORTH.
All-business intrusted to us bandied promptly, carefully, and at lowest rntop.
C. F. IDDING-S,
a!
LUMBER,
, i
i COAL,
Order by telephone from Newton's Book Store.
Dr.AN; McOABE, Prop. J. E. BUSH, Manager
NORTH PLATTE PHARMACY,
Successor to J. Q. Thacker.
MCJilTEL PLATTE, - NEBRASKA.
WE ATM TO HANDLE THE BEST GRADE OF GOODS,
,
SELL THEM AT REASONABLE PRICES, AND WARRANT
EVERYTHING AS REPRESENTED.
orders from the country and along tha line of the Union
Pacific Railway Solicited.
IT. X. BROEKEE,
Merchant Tailor,
OIj 3E1 jA. N 13 H. A TNT 3D RZSPA.IXI.ZIZt.
LARGE STOCK OF PIECE GOODS,
embracing all the new designs, kept on band and made to order.
PERFECT FIT GUARANTEED.
PRICES LOWER THAN EVER BEFORE
Spruce Street, between Fiftb and Sixth.
THE CASINO BILLTAED HALL,
. . . J. E. GRACE, Proprietor.
SUPERIOR BILLIARD and POOL TABLES.
Bar Stocked with the Finest of Liquors.
A QUIET AND ORDERLY RESORT
Where gentlemen will receive courteous treatment at all times and
where they will always be welcome. Our billiard and pool hall
i not surpassed in the city and lovers of these games can
be accommodated at all times.
- - m ii rr.T.-g
A Transferred Identity.
By EDITH SESSI0H8 TUPPEB,
.Copyright, 1883, by American Press Associa
tion.!
CHAPTER V.
foetia's hcsbaxd,
It is useless to attempt to analyze the
emotions which possessed rne during our
return to the house. I was now confi
dent that I was in the company or a mad
woman and was deliberating upon ways
and means for a Bpeedy departure north
ward. And yet, when Portia's excite
ment had subsided, when we were Lack
once more amid the flowers and fonn
tains, Bhe looked perfectly self contain
ed and sane. Her eyes had lost their un
earthly glitter, and when she again
touched my hand her flesh was warm,
Alone in my room I pondered upon
the events of the day; Portia's fury when
Daphne brought her the flowers and her
evident dislike of her child; her alarm
at something contained in her husband's
letter; her intimation that danger threat
ened her through her husband, whom
she so evidently idolized, and her rage
when I attempted to open the closed gate
in that dreary out of the way corner of
the grounds.
What did it all mean?
"Shall I stay or go?'' I asked myself.
"Shall I seo this mystery to the end, or
shall I fly from it? If trouble is hanging
over Portia, ought I not to stand by and
give her all the aid in my power?"
Then there was Colonel Marchmont.
I owned to a woman's curiosity concern
ing him. I was anxious to see the man
whom Portia loved and as palpably
feared danger through him, she had said.
Again she had acknowledged that often
she felt she were going mad. Possibly
that was it; possibly she was alarmed
lest her husband should put her in a
madhouse.
All these vagrant thoughts drifted
through my mind, vexing, tormenting
and questioning me, until wornout I
fell asleep. My dreams wore confused
and ever circled round that closed gate,
covered with low hanging vines curling
and twisting like green serpents over its
hinges and locks.
Sometimes strange, lights burned over
its top and again darkness veiled it,
though I felt it was there, and onco 1
dreamed I stood before it and heard
three awful and measured knocks, and
on crying out "Who is there:" received
answer, "Portia."
I wakened, wearied and languid from
my feverish sleep.
When I descended to breakfast, I found
Portia laughing and romping gayly with
Daphne. This unexpected sight filled
me with delight. The mother and
daughter pelted each other with flowers,
ran races and danced together, bud
denly Portia cried out pettishly that she
was wearied of such nonsense and re
lapsed into a gloomy mood, during which
I caught her eyes more than once fixed
on me with an expression of distrust.
"Why do you regard me so intently,
Portia?" I suddenly asked her.
"I was Avondering, you little gray
mouse, what yon would do if you should
hear unkind things said of me yes,
more than unkind dreadful, wicked,
cruel deeds charged against me."
"Absurd!" I said laughingly.
"What would you say, for example, if
some one were to come in that door and
tell you that I had betrayed faith and
honor; that I was a thief r
"Nonsense!"'
"That I was a murderer'
'Oh, hush, hush, Portia!" I cried, go
ing over to her and taking her by the
shoulders. "Why do you suggest such
hateful thoughts? Put them away and
come out upon tho piazza."
"Yes," she said, with that strange air
of proud humility I had noticed before,
yes, I will come."
As we passed into the hall a servant
approached us with the tidings that a
carriage had just turned into the long
avenue leading to the mansion.
"It is papa," shouted Daphne, dancing
like a firefly.
Portia said nothing, but I felt her body
swav as if about to fall. I caught her in
my arms.
cold.
"Compose yourself, dear," I urged.
"Why, Portia, I don't believe you are
anxious to see him after all."
"Oh, yes," she murmured faintly.
"Yes, I thirst for a sight of his face. My
love my love Prudence." suddenly
clinging to me, "remember ihut always
whatever comes remember, I loved
him as few women love."
The carriage dashed up to the steps,
and a tall, well built, athletic man
sprang to tho ground. As he came up
the steps I saw a broad, low brow, with
heavy masses of dark hair, threaded
with silver, eyes dark and full of sorrow,
a soldierly mustache, a strong chin and
straight nose.
Daphne fluug herself into his arms.
He pressed the child with a tender, ca
ressing grace to his heart and kissed her
little face again and again. "Papa's
own baby," I heard him murmur.
During this meeting Portia stood back,
white, trembling, and with eyes fixed
upon the ground. When Colonel March
mont put the child down, she moved for
ward and mechanically held out her
hand. She seemed like a person in a
trance.
I saw Colonel Marchmont start, then
taking the outstretched hand he barely
touched it with his lips, saying, "I hope
you are well, Portia." "
"Very well. And you?"
"Never better."
"Let me introduce an old school
friend, Prudence Mason, of whom you
have heard me speak. Prudence, my
husband."
Colonel Marchmont shook hands in
hospitable fashion and greeted me with a
friendly little speech. I was vaguely
conscious that my unexpected presence
appeared to be a relief to him.
He Boon went in to breakfast. Daphne
ran after him. The child had lost all her
timidity and seemed to me to iook aen
antly at Portia. Her mother, on the oth
er hand, wore the air of humility and.
melancholy I had before observed.
Never had I witnessed so cold a greet
ing between husband and wife. While
Colonel Marchmont treated Portia with '
courtesy, he unmistakably hqld her at
arm's length. Nor was I surprised when
an hour later, coming from my room, I
saw him enter a suite of rooms in quite
the oppositclocation from those of Por
tia. I at once realized one source of my
friend's grief. Loving her husband with
the fiery intensity of a warm, southern
nature, she yet was an unloved wife.
Still Colonel Marchmont was a man of
kindness, amiability and affection. He
showed it in his treatment of his child 1
She was trembling, pale and
Davihnc flung herself into his arms.
yes, of his servants and even his doga,
but toward his wife ho was as icy and
flinty as mai'blc.
"Danger throughhini," she had said
My heart ached for iny friend. Yes, the
danger of being cast off, deserted;-put
awav that was the evil which threat
ened this tempest tossed soul.
Ah, poor Portia! I saw my duty
clearly now to stay with her, comfort
and solace her all in my power, and if it
were possible bring this husband and
wife, drifting so dangerously apart, to
gether onco more.
CHAPTER VL
IX THE AUSOIJ.
The evening of Colonel Marchniont',s
return was given over to tho ball of
which mention has already been made.
Portia was a picture in her white satin
gown, the laces of which were caught
here and thero with clusters of scarlet
verbenas. When she was dressed and
stood intently regarding herself in the
mirror, sho sighed heavily.
"Why do you sigh, Portia?" I asked as
I pinned the last knot of flowers in the
folds of her gown.
"Those red blossoms," she answered
dreamily. "I have a curious fancy about
them, Prudence. Do you know that
they look like drops of blood?" Then,
catching my reproving expression The
laughed gayly, caught up her scarlet fan
and hastened to join her husband in the
drawing room.
I watched Colonel Marchmont curi
ously to see what effect his wife's beauty
had upon him, but he regarded her as
coldly as ever. I began to be furipu3
with this calm, self contained man, who
showed so plainly his utter indifference
to the beautiful woman ho possessed.
He had taken her white cloak from
her and thrown it over his arm as he
stood waiting while she bnttoued her
gloves. Suddenly ho spoke:
"Did I wnto you that I met Maurice
in Atlanta?" he asked.
I was standing near Portia, indeed
had just stretched out my hands to as
sist her with the troublesome glove. I
saw her8hiver as if a cold wind had
struck across her white shoulders.
"Yes," she said in a low voice." " -"And
that he is coming here next
week to stay a few days with us?" Colo-
"Yes," she breathed rather than spoke.
Her husband looked intently at her
through narrowing ej-elids.
"Weil, I must, say that yon do not
show much interest in the cousin who
was like a brother to you and whom
yon have not seen since j-ou were boy
aud girl together. Now, Maurice could
not end his catechism about yon. How
you look, dress, talk and act were ques
tions ho was continually asking. I told
him his legal training had evidently be
come secoud nature, for he kept me. on
the witness stand constantly. You mu3fc
know, Miss Mason, that Maurice Ray
mond is my wife's pnlyliviug relative.
He.was born and brought up on her fa
ther's plantation, and the two wero like
brother and sister."
"Oh, yes!" I said, "I used of teu, Portia,
to hear you speak of your brother
Maurice."
Pcrti-i turned a white, hunted face to
ward me. Her lips moved as if sho
wero about to speak; but no sound issued
from them.
"Let me see," said her husband as he
carelessly threw her cloak over her
shoulders, "it must be lo years since
you saw him. How much you will have
to talk over!"
The greenish light of excitement had
died from Portia's face, and as she took
her husband's arm she looked so wan,
ble midsummer night's dream.
' "No wonder the child hated to go to
bed," I said to Sophie as the little one
went dancing down the walk before us,
"Laws, yes, miss," responded Sophie,
"dat pore chile did tease powahful
hahd."
We came to the arbor, and entering it
sat down for a moment.
I can see it all now as I write. The
arbor overhung with dangling, perfume
laden honeysuckles; the Uttle girl caper
ing about, her black eyes flashing in the
moonlight; Sophie's ebon face, white
apron and snowy cap, and even the lit
tle wooden doll which Daphne had
lugged along, stating that Dolly must
walk too.
Suddenly out of the moonlight came a
face a face which peered in through the
honeysuckles at us with sinister eyes,
Long white straggling hair fell around
it, mid the toothless gums mouthed in a
bloodcurdling and evil grin.
I saw It first, then Sophie, then the
child.
A soreani broko the stillness of the
night It was Sophie who threw her
"apron over her head and shrieked in ter
ror. Daphne did not scream, but buried her
head in my lap.
"Who are yon?" I demanded.
There was no answer. The hideous
face disappeared. There was a rustle in
Ufi
T M til . 3 , r I 1 -X
4 W
M i lf
Suddenly out of the moonlight came a
face.
the shrubbery and a sound of hastily
withdrawing steps. The intruder had
gone.
I snatched Daphno up in mv arms, and
followed by the moaning, gasping So
phie hurried to the house. There was
speedily a group of frightened servants
about us, to whom, with much splutter
ing, and many groans, Sophie related the
occurrence.
I went to the nursery with Daphne
and did not leave her until she was
fund asleep. Theu, with my nerves
still considerably shaken, I went down
to the piazza. Tom, the old whito headed
butler, was standing near the dining
room window, and upon seeing me came
forward.
"Sony you got snol: a scab, miss," he
said, "an de little lady too. Dat's too
bad. But dat fool Sophie wot sha want
to tell all de niggahs foh? Be all obah
do plantation befo' midnight, an ebery
lniTtrah on de nlace Ml ba inoh seabed
aQ K
"Scared of what, Tom?" I asked.
"Waal," said he, scratching his woolly
head, "I shouldn't ought fer to pay any
thin, for nnGin riles missus moh, but 1 11
depend upon you savin unfiin, miss"
"Go on," I said ha . iily.
"Waal, miss," his voice sunk to a whis
per, "wat you saw in do nrboh was a
voodoo from Dead Man's swamp."
I shivered involuntarily. "Nonsense!"
I cried.
"Yes, miss, 'deed it was. An dey is
sayin now down in do kitchen dat it was
aftah littlo missy's heart."
"Tom, I'm ashamed of you," I said as
I went in the hall, took my caudle and
prepared to go up stairs.
Tom followed and said mysteriously,
"Please, miss, don't let missus know
rinffin 'bout wat happened tonight."
"I'll think about it, Tom," I answered
as I slowly went up tho stairs.
haggard and old I was
temped to beg
Really she ap-
her to stop at home,
peared too ill to go.
But the carriage was at "tho steps.
Colonel Marchinonfc handed her in, fol
lowed, shut tho door, aud they were
driven rapidly away.
For a long time I cat upon tho piazza
thinking over the littlo sceno I had wit
nessed. From the terror and dismay
which had so suddenly crept in Portia's
face when her cousin's name was men
tioned I did not doubt that the news of
his coining had been the unwelcome an
nouncement in her husband's letter
which had occasioned so much alarm.
And why? What possible danger could
this relative bring her? On the contrary,
why did sho not welcome his advent as
a relief to the monotony of her life? It
was not possible she was in lovo with
this cousin? No, no. If ever a woman
loved her husband, it was Portia March
mont. My musings wero interrupted by lit
tlo Daphne, who had been allowed to
sit up and watch her mother's toilet for
the ball. Sho ran toward me, scream
ing in pretended fright, from her nurse
Sophie, who wished to put her to bed,
I took her in my arms and kissed her.
"Good night, darling."
"Don't want to go to bed," she an
nounced in shrill, childish treble;
"wants to sit up with you."
"Laws now, Miss Daphne, come on,"
urged Sophie.
"No, no," cried the child; "no, won't
go to bed till Auntie Prudence takes me
for a walk."
"A walk now at 9 o'clock!" I said.
"This is no time to take a walk."
"Yes," cried Daphne, dancing and
clapping Jiev hands, "yes, you and So
phie and me down to the arbor and
back. Then Til be good and go to bed."-
I could not resist the child's pleading
and told Sophie we would go for a short
turn in the garden.
"Only as far as the arbor and back," I
admitted.
"Yes, yes," laughed the delighted
child.
We threw on our light wraps and set
out. The moon was full and sent down
a flood of light, turning every leaf and
twig and branch into shimmering silver.
The fountains were splashing softly, and
the birds faintly twittered in their nests.
It was a scene of enchantment a verita-
CHAPTER VII.
, OLD JEZEBEL.
It waa a serious question with mo
whether I should speak of the startling
experience of the..evening. At first I de
cided to hold my peace. The excitement
would soon pass, and Portia and her hus
band would be none the wiser.
But I reflected that they might catch
a whisper "from the tattling negroe3 and
demand the story of the occurrence.
Then they would blame me for not hav
ing told them. I decided that it would
be better to tell tho father and mother
at tho first opportunity.
Breakfast next morning was late. I
rose at an early hour, but chose to wait
and cat with Portia and the colonel.
Af ter they had come down and I had re
ceived a glowing description ofthe revels
of the night before, as quietly and briefly
as possible I told of tho fright we had re
ceived in. the arbor.
"The most awful face I over saw," I
was saying when Portia's glass fell from
her hand and shivered on the table. I
thought she was going to faint anA sprang
to her assistance.
"No. no," sho said weakly, "it is noth
ingnever mind only tho alarm one
wonld naturally feel."
"She does love her child, after all," I
said exultautlj' to myself.
As for the colonel ho swore roundly.
"That devilish old hag!" ho cried,
bringing his shapely brown fist down on
the table, "I'll have her chained up. Sho
shan't go round my plantation frighten
ing people.cut of their senses."
"Oh, you know who it was then?" I
eagerly cried.
"Yes, from your description it could
have been no other than old Jezebel, a
nigger at least 100 years old. She be
longed to my father. She has never had
her freedom, but carries on as if she had.
Sho won't stay on the plantation has
built herself a wretched little hut off in
the swamp and lives there, doing God
Porta's alans fell from her hand.
knows what muttering incantations,
weaving spells, gathering herbs and
browing witches' broth, I reckon. The
niggers are as afraid of her as they are
of the evil one. They won't even pro
nounce her name if they can avoid it,
and as for venturing in the swamp, why,
Miss Prudence, all the overseers in Geor
gia couldn't drive any of my people
there. And yet I have heard in many
quarters of darkies who go there at dead
of night for unholy orgies. The popu
lar tradition is that it is a meeting place
for voodoos. I believe IMI break up that
nest. I'll tell you what I will do. When
Maurice comes, some night Til take Jako
and one or two stout niggers, and we'll
go over thero and see what's going on.
As for old Jezebel, Til burn her alive if
she touches a hair of Daphne's head."
Dnring tho colonel's long speech Por
tia's eyes blazed with defiance and auger.
Once or twice she seenied on tho point of
speaking, but bit her lips vas if to re
strain the impetuous speech that trem
bled behind them. Bat when her hus
band spoke of visiting the swamp with
her cousin the absolute terror which
froze her f eatnres was awful to see. She
half staggered to her feet.
"No, Jermyn, no!" she cried wildly.
"Do not go in the swamp! Keep away
from it, I beg, I implore you! Don't go
near them. They will tear out j'our
heart."
"Tear out my heart!" cried the colo
nel contemptuously. "I'd liko to see
one of that crew tear any part of my
anatomy. Silly girl, your terror of tho
voodoos is something I cannot compre
hend. Did you ever hear anything so
ridiculous, Miss Prudence? But it is
always so. I can't mention the swamp or
repeat the rumors of what is supposed to
falls to groaning and shivering. Por
tia, you used to have more sense."
Though Colonel Marchmont did not
speak unkindly, his impatience with his
frightened wife was scarcely veiled. Ho
rose, put on his hat and stalked moodily
out of the house.
Later, when Daphne ran about the
grounds, she was closely followed by
Jake, one of the brawny overseers, and
an enormous bloodhound. With Sophie
they formed quite an imposing guard of
honor.
Portia shut herself up in her 'rooms.
and I did not see her again until even
ing. Colonel Marchmont spent the day
going about tho plantation examining
the quartera and consulting with his
overseers.
It was just at sunset that, coming
along ono of the winding garden paths,
saw the colonel through a row of
shrubbery on my right. Ho was walk
ing slowly, his head bent in reflection,
his hands behind him. Unconsciously
he was talking aloud. I caught a snatch
or two of his conversation with himself
as ho came on.
"How I hato her!" he was saying.
"How I loathe her! Suffer! Good God,
did ever a man suffer so?" Then sud
denly he raised hi3 arms- and cried out
in tones of bitter anguish:
"Oh, Portia! Oh, my wife ray wife!"
CHAPTER VIII.
THE AUDACIOUS DANCE.
I drew back, startled and amazed.
After his despairing outburst Colonel
Marchmont resumed his walk, head
bent- and hands clasped behind him.
I watched him pass out of tight at a
turn of the shrubbery.
"Well," I said .aloud to myself, "that
certainly is about the most astonishing
feature yet of this remarkable business
In one instant tho colonel declares with
an emphasis which leaves little doubt of
his earnestness that he hates and loathes
Portia, and in the next cries out to her
in accents imploring enough to melt a
heart of stone. My private opinion is
that tho entire Marchmont family is
voodooed."
At dinner that evening I particularly
remarked Portia's beauty. Never had
she been so radiant. Her eyes glittered
as if she had been drinking champagne,
and her cheeks glowed liko roses. I
could not keep my eyes from her fasci
nating face and grew more and more in
censed at the cold, silent man who re
garded her so indifferently.
After wo had gone into the drawing
room I bethought mo of a book in which
I was greatly interested, and excusing
myself went into the library to find it.
Returning a few minutes later, I was the
forced witness of a most painful scene.
The door between the rooms was open,
and as I approached I saw Portia steal
up behind her husband with a look of
longing on her face. The colonel was in
tent upon his newspaper and did not
perceive her until sho put both white
arms about his throat and tenderly laid
her cheek upon his head.
Ho sprang from his chair as if a ser
pent had stung him. Turning, he con
fronted her with an awful face, white,
stern, contemptuous.
"How daro 3-011?" he said in a low
voice, vibrant with hatred.
"Oh, Jermyn, forgive me! Love me
after all. I am your wife," begged Portia.
"Yes, I have not forgotten that intol
erable fact," replied Colonel Marchmont,
with studied coldness. Then he hurried
from the room.
Portia came flying toward me like a
whirlwind. Her eyes blazed. With ono
clinched hand she struck at her heart.
"Prudence," she cried, "ho will kill me.
But first"
She broko off and burst into demoni
acal laughter. Then, calming a bit, she
continued: "No, I will not tell you, yon
soft little mouse, what I will do. Jer
myn Marchmont shall Imow one day
what he nas accomplished tonight."
"Portia, what is it?" I asked. "What
is this mystery which surrounds you"
Instantlj I saw that look of cunning
spring to her face.
"Mystery!" she repeated almost gayly.
"Absurd! Thero is no mystery. My
husband has simply wearied of me.
Nothing very mysterious about that, is
there?" and seizing me around the waist
she waltzed me up and down the hall.
As soon us I could disengage myself
from her embrace I stepped back. Bat
Portia went on dancing. She looked a
veritable Moenad as she whirled and
waved her white arms and tossed back
her disheveled hair. She was the most
graceful creature imaginable, but at the
same time there was something both
grotesque and frightful about the wild
dance in which she indulged. Her face
grew wicked, her postures audacious.
All I could think of was La Carmagnole
or the mad tarantella of one writhing
in a death agony.
"For heaven's sake, Portia, stop!" I
cried at last.
She only laughed mockingly aud
whirled faster than ever.
The door at the upper end of the hall
opened suddenly, and her husband ap
peared. The look, of disgust that cross-
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ed his face sobered her. She stopped in
confusion and began nervously twisting
up her hair and arranging her draperies.
"Really, Portia," Colonel Marchmont
said disdainfully, "I cannot admire your
method of entertaining Miss Prudence.
Your dance is more suitable to the or
gies of Dead Alan s swamp than to a
gentleman's house."
It was a brutal speech, and it told.
Portia stared gloomily after her husband
as he went out upon tho piazza, and
then, turning to me, said in an undertone:
"You heard what ho said? Well, since
he sends me to tho swamp, I'll go. I
have work there, Prudence."
"What do you mean?' I cried as she
fled up the stairs. But she made no an
swer. Only her taunting laughter floated
down. I heard her slam the door of hex.
room and knew that in all probability
we should not see her again that even
ing, as it was the custom to take her
nightly leave in some such unceremo
nious fashion.
Nor did Colonel Marchmont return. I
read an hour or so, then went to my
room. I heard his heavy tread later as
ho went to his apartments, then silence
settled down over the great house.
I did not feel like sleeping. Somo
strange influence oppressed me. At times
I was conscious of a premonition of im
pending trouble. Something was surely
about to happen. What was it?
It was nearry midnight when I dis
tinctly heard a distant door open and
shut. While I stood intently listening
I heard soft footsteps gliding along tho
corridor, and an object brushed against
my door. Although I had not disrobed,
I had put out tho lights in my room, for
which now I was devoutly thankful, as
they would have been visible to any one
prowling outside in. the hall.
"Is it a burglar? ' I asked myself, "or
a belated servant; ' v un every nerve
quivering liko a violin string I listened.
The footsteps went toward the stairway
yes down it. Then I heard the great
hall floor softly open aud close.
I opened my window and stepped out
upon the balcony. I followed it to the
corner of the house, whence I could
command a view of the hall door, broad
portico and garden.
A figure was flitting down the wind
ing path. I knew tho graceful, sinuous
gait. It was Portia.
"Why, where can she be going at this
hour of night?" I said. Then suddenly
her words of the evening returned: "He
has sent me to tho swamp, and I'll go,
for I have work there, Prudence."
I hastened back to in- room, threw a
shawl over my shoulders, unlocked my
door, stole down the dark hall and stair
Slic only luityhcd nwcliingly and whirled
faster than ever.
way and out into the garden. Follow
ing the path I had seen Portia taking, I
soon discovered I was going toward th
swamp.
The moon, which had been partially
obscured by a mass of drifting clouds,
now emerged and sent a flood of mellow
light down upon the broad path before
me.
Suddenly I saw Portia. She was stand
ing with her back toward me, as fixed
and motionless as a granite figure. One
hand was extended toward the moon. I
saw something sparkling in her clinched
fingers. It was a knife!
For fully 10 minutes she stood there in
the samo position absolutely as rigid as
marble. Suddenly her arm relaxed and
fell by her side. Then she moved on. I
followed.
I was presently aware that we were in
that corner of the grounds where the
closed gate was located. When we came
to it, I saw Portia stoop and take some
thing from her pocket. Then she tore
away the long green vines and thrust
this object into tho keyhole. I heard tho
creaking of a lock and then of rusty
hinges. Tho mysterious gato slowly
opened. Portia vanished. I heard the
key click on the opposite side. I was
alone.
CHAPTER DL
THE RETURN".
Crouched by the gate, I waited. Wait
ed for what?
I was at a loss to know what course to
take. Ought I to return to the house,
rouse Colonel Marchmont and tell him
of this strange midnight visit of his wife
to that terrible and uncanny place?
Would it not increase his evident antip
athy for her? I feared so, and as I was
sincerely anxious to bring the two to
gether instead of seeing them more wide
ly separated I decided against that sug
gestion. No, I would wait Poriia's return, join
her, beg her to confide all to me to ex
plain what possible connection there
could be between the wife of a proud
planter and southern gentleman and a
setof the lowest and mo3t debased of
human beings.
For little by little had the appalling
theory crept in my mind that Portia
Marchmont, Dcautiful, refined and edu
cated woman, was a victim of some un
holy spell; that she was in sympathy
with those mysterious and inexplicable
rites of Dead Man's swamp. Her fury
whenever the subject of voodooism was
mentioned; her anxiety lest her husband
should visit the haunt of these night
birds; her evident anger when Colonel
Marchmont threatened to punish the old
negress, past mistress of these awful
ceremonies, all strengthened my opin
ion. Yes, I firmly believed my old friend
to be a disciple of thi3 ghastly school.
This was what had nearly wrecked
her reason, alienated her husband's af
fection and caused her to dislike her
child.
Was she to be blamed? "No," my heart
cried out. No more than if she had by
some chance become a victim of mor
phine or some other insidious drug. In
some fashion old Jezebel had obtained
control of and enslaved her mistress. I
was determined to break the spell and
save my friends.
Bnt tha knife the knife! What was
sho doing with that glittering weapon
with the keeu, wicked blade? Oh, my
poor Portia! Had sho sought that grew
some spot to kill herself? I remembered
her threat, "Jermyn Marchmont shall
remember one day what he has accom
plished tonight." Oh, perhaps then,
then, while I was standing idly and help
lessly beside that carefully locked gate,
somewhere away in the dim and awful
recesses of Dead Man's swamp there was
fearful work going on. I must save her.
I would.
In desperation I shook the gate and
beat upon it. I called I moaned aloud
in fear and agony and then sank down
exhausted in the thick tangles' of creep
ing vines.
Suddenly I heard voices and a sound
of hurried footsteps on the other side of
the wall. Who was coming?
I started to my feet and crowded back
out of sight among the vines. The key
clicked in the lock, the gate swung open
and Portia stepped hurriedly through
and stopped, looking about. Behind her
in the moonlight I saw the awful face
which had looked in the arbor a nicht
or two before. Some instinct sounded a
danger signal, and I repressed my incli
nation to spring forward and speak tc
Portia.
"I was sure I heard something," she
murmured.
The old hag listened with bent head.
"It was de wind, honey, an yet by de
way do palms ob my hands prick I
know dab's danger lurkiu somewhah.
But go home leab de chile to me, I'll
tend to her. Eberyting goin ou all
right. 'Twon'fc be long now foh ye's
safo. I saw a black bat fly tree times
cross de doah las' night, and de moon
was streaked blood red dem's good
signs. Go home go home."
"Listen," said Portia, grasping tho
bid woman's arm. 'Tve heard your
wretched prophecies long enough. I do
not see that we are any nearer the end
than we were months ago. I want it
finished do yon hear? finished. If you
don't act, I shall," and she shook the
kniTe in old Jezebel's face.
: "All right," muttered the other, "but
dah's daugeh-comin, honey. Dangeh
mm m
.a
, 4 Bf S-STlr
Portia stepped hurriedly through and
stopped, looking about.
from the norf." Sho turned that way
and then suddenly wheeled about. "An
dangeh from the souf awful."
"Stop your maunderings and do some
thing," said Portia as she pushed the old
woman back through the gate, shut and
locked it and hurried away.
i 1 oici not stop her. uoul and rigid I
stood, watching her fly up tho path like
a bird of prey. In those few minutes an
entire revolution surged through my na
ture. When I heard Portia plotting the
destruction of her child that dainty lit
tle being to whom my lonely heart had
gone out in love and sympathy I folt
like an avenging angel. The pity I had
known for Portia vanished, and there
was bora in its stead an emotion of
righteous f nry.
This creature scheming at miduightto
delivor an innocent child into the hands
of human devild as a sacrifice perhaps
to their evil and unlniown god was no
longer to be regarded as a mother, as a
woman, but as it liend to be conquered,
crushed destroyed, if necessary.
I wonld no longer hesitate. 1 saw my
duty. At the first opportunity I would
tell Colonel Marchmont that he was
dealing with a mad woman, and that if
he wished to protect little Daphne, his
idol, his baby, from an awful fate ho
must imprison her crazy mother.
to nn CONTINUED,
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