For Woman's Love Part- 2 by Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth (i love reading books txt) 📕

The Duke Of Cumbervale,  Weary Of A Sleepless Pillow,  Arose Early And

Rang His Bell,  Startling His Gentlemanly Valet From His Morning

Slumbers; Dressed Himself With Monsieur's Assistance,  And Went Down

Stairs With The Intention Of Taking A Walk Before The Family Should Be

Up.

But His Intention Was Forestalled By The Appearance Of Mr. Rockharrt

Coming Out Of His Chamber On The Opposite Side Of The Hall.

The Iron King Looked Up In Some Surprise At The Apparition Of His Guest

At So Early An Hour; But Quickly Composed Himself As He Gave Him The

Matutinal Salutation:

"Ah,  Good Morning,  Duke. An Early Riser,  Like Myself,  Eh? Come Down

Into The Library With Me,  And Let Us Look Over The Morning Papers."

A Cheerful Coal Fire Was Burning In The Grate,  A Very Acceptable Comfort

On This Chill November Morning.

This Was One Of The Happy Days When There Is "Nothing In The

Papers"--That Is To Say,  Nothing Interesting,  Absorbing,  Soul Harrowing,

In The Form Of Financial Ruin,  Highway Robbery,  Murder,  Arson,  Fire,  Or

Flood. Everything In The World At The Present Brief Hour Seemed Going On

Well,  Consequently The Papers Were Very Dull,  Flat,  Stale And

Unprofitable,  And Were Soon Laid Aside By The Host And His Guest,  And

They Fell Into Conversation.

"You Took A Long Walk Yesterday,  I Hear--Went Across In The Ferry Boat,

And Strolled Up To The Foot Of Scythia's Roost."

"I Did. Can You Tell Me Anything About That Curious Spot?"

"No; Nothing But That It Was The Dwelling Of An Indian Woman,  Who

Pretended To Second Sight,  And Who Should Have Been Sent To The State's

Prison As A Felon,  Or,  At The Very Least,  To The Madhouse As A Lunatic.

She Was Burned Out,  Or Perhaps Burned Herself Out,  And Vanished On The

Same Night That Governor Rothsay Disappeared. She Was In Some Way

Cognizant Of A Plot Against Him That Would Prevent Him From Ever

Entering Upon The Duties Of His Office. I,  In My Capacity As Magistrate,

Issued A Warrant For Her Arrest,  But It Was Too Late. She Was Gone. It

Is Said By Some People That She Is A Mexican Indian,  Who Had Been Very

Beautiful In Her Youth,  And Who Had Become Infatuated With An English

Tourist Who Admired Her To Such A Degree That He Married Her--According

To The Rites Of Her Nation. He Was A False Hearted Caitiff,  If He Was An

English Lord. Having Committed The Folly Of Marrying The Indian Woman,

He Should Have Been True To Her--Made The Best Of The Bad Bargain.

Instead Of Which He Grew Tired Of Her,  And Finally Abandoned Her."

"Did He Return To His Native Country,  Do You Know?"

"He Did Not. She Never Gave Him Time. She Went Mad After He Left Her,

Followed Him To New Orleans And Tomahawked Him On The Steamboat. She Was

Tried For Murder,  Acquitted On The Ground Of Insanity,  And Sent To A

Lunatic Asylum. After A Time She Was Discharged,  Or She Escaped. It Is

Not Known Which; Most Probably She Escaped,  As She Certainly Was Not

Cured. She Was As Mad As A March Hare All The Time She Lived Here; But

As She Was Harmless--Comparatively Harmless--It Seemed Nobody's Business

To Have Her Shut Up! And As I Said,  When At Last I Thought It Was Time

To Have Her Arrested On A Charge Of Vagrancy,  It Was Too Late. She 

Fled."

"Why Do You Suspect That She Had Some Knowledge Of A Plot To Make Away

With The Governor-Elect?"

"I Suspect That She Was In The Plot. Developments Have Led Me To The

Conclusion. By These I Learned That Rothsay Was Not Murdered,  As His

Friends Feared,  Nor Abducted,  As Some Persons Believed,  But That He Went

Away,  And Lived For Many Months Among The Indians In The Wilderness,

Without Giving A Sign Of His Identity To The People Among Whom He Lived,

Or Sending A Hint Of His Whereabouts,  Or Even Of His Existence,  To His

Anxious Friends. But That The Massacre Of Terrepeur--In Which He Was

Murdered And His Hut Was Burned--Occurred When It Did,  We Might Never

Have Learned His Fate."

"Yet,  Still,  I Cannot See The Ground Upon Which You Suspect This Indian

Woman Of Complicity In The Man's Disappearance," Said Cumbervale.

"But I Am Coming To That. Scythia Was A Mexican Indian. It Is Well Known

To Travelers That The Mexican Indians Possess The Secret Of A Drug

Which,  When Administered To A Man,  Will Not Kill Him,  Or Do Him Any

Physical Harm,  But Will Reduce Him To A State Of Abject Imbecility,  So

That His Free Will Is Destroyed,  And He May Be Led By Any One Who May

Wish To Lead Him. This Drug Administered To Rothsay,  By The Woman,  Must

Have So Deprived Him Of His Reason As To Induce Him To Follow Any One

Influencing Him."

"What Interest Could She Have Had In Reducing The Man To This State Of

Dementia?"

"She Had Been Like A Mother To The Young Man,  And Had Sheltered Him In

Her Hut For Years,  When He Had No Other Home. She Was Very Much Attached

To This Adopted Son Of Hers; She Was Longing To Go Back To Her Tribe And

Die Among Her Own People. It May Be That She Wished To Take Him With

Her,  And So Gave Him The Drug That Destroyed His Will. Or,  She May Have

Been The Tool Of Others. All This Is The Merest Conjecture. But The

Facts Remain That She Foretold His Fate,  And That She Vanished On The

Same Day On Which He Disappeared,  And That He Remained In Exile,

Voluntarily,  Until He Was Murdered By The Indians. Still--There Might

Have Been Another Cause For This Self-Expatriation."

"May I Inquire Its Nature?"

"No,  Duke; It Is Only In My Secret Thought. I Have No Just Right To

Speak Of It To You. But If The Question Be Not Indiscreet,  Will You Tell

Me Why You Take So Deep An Interest In The Unreliable Story Of This

Indian Woman's Life?"

"Certainly; Because The Wild Young Blade Who Married And Left Her,  And

Paid Down His Life For That Desertion,  Was My Own Uncle,  My Father's

Elder Brother,  Earl Netherby,  The Heir To The Dukedom,  By Whose Death My

Father,  And Subsequently Myself,  Succeeded To The Title."

You Astonish Me! Are You Sure Of This?"

"Reasonably Sure. I Was But Five Years Old When My Uncle Came To Bid Us

Good-By,  Before Setting Out For America. But I Remember His Having On

His Finger A Wonderful Ring,  A Large Solitaire Diamond With Certain

Flaws In It; But These Flaws Were Very Curious; They Were Faint Traces

Left By The Hand Of Nature Shaping Out A Human Eye. When Ordinary

Mortals Like Myself Looked At The Diamond,  They Saw The Delicate Outline

Of An Eye Traced By The Flaws In The Stone; But It Was Said That

Whenever A Clairvoyant Looked Into It They Could See,  Not The Human Eye,

But,  As Through A Telescope,  They Could View The Panorama Of Future

Events."

"What Nonsense!" Said Mr. Rockharrt.

"Nonsense,  Of Course," Assented The Duke. "I Did Not Speak Of The Ring

On Account Of Its Supposed Magic Power,  But Because It Was So Peculiar A

Jewel That It Would Be Impossible To Mistake It For Any Other Ring,  Or

Any Other Ring For Itself; And To Lead Up To The Statement That Its

Discovery Enabled Me To Identify The Mexican Indian Woman With The

Maniac Who Murdered My Uncle,  As You Will See Very Soon. When My Uncle

Took Leave Of Us,  My Father,  Noticing The Family Talisman--Which,  By The

Way,  Was Picked Up By Our Ancestor,  Raoul-De-Netherbie,  The Great

Crusader,  On The Battle Field Of Acre,  And Was Said To Have Belonged To

An Eastern Magician,  And Has Remained An Heirloom With The Head Of Our

Family Ever Since--Inquired Of His Brother Whether He Was Going To Wear

That Outre Jewel In Open View Upon His Finger. My Uncle Answered That He

Was; And Half Laughing,  And Wholly Incredulous,  He Added:

"'You Know,  Hugh,  That This Stone Is A Talisman Against Shipwreck,

Fires,  Floods,  Robbery,  Murder,  Illness,  And All The Perils By Land Or

By Sea,  And All The Ills That Flesh Is Heir To. While I Wear This Ring I

Expect To Be Safe From The Evils Of The World,  The Flesh,  And The Devil.

So It Shall Never Leave My Living Hand While I Am Away; But It Shall

Bring Me Home Safe To Live To A Patriarchal Age And Then Die Peacefully

In My Bed,  With My Children And Children's Children Of Many Generations

Weeping And Wailing Around Me.'

"These Or Words To This Effect He Was Speaking,  While I,  Standing By The

Chair In Which He Sat,  Toyed With His Hand,  And Gazed Curiously Upon The

Talismanic Jewel,  And Got Into My Mind An Impression Of It That Never

Was Lost. My Uncle Soon After Left The House,  And We Never Saw Him Alive

Again."

"He Was The Victim Of This Mad Woman?"

"I Know It. News Was Slow In Those Days. We Seldom Heard From My Uncle.

His Letters Were But The Mark Of The Cities He Stopped At. We Had One

Letter From Boston; A Month Later One From New York; A Fortnight Later,

Perhaps--For I Only Remember These Matters By Hearing Them Talked Over

By My Parents--From Philadelphia; Later Still,  And Later,  Baltimore,

Washington,  Nashville,  New Orleans,  And So On As He Journeyed Southward.

Then Came A Long Interval,  During Which We Heard Nothing From Him,  While

All His Family Suffered The Deepest Anxiety,  Fearing That He Had Fallen

A Victim To The Terrible Fever That Was Then Desolating The Crescent

City. Then At Length Came A Letter From His Valet--A Deep Black-Bordered

Letter--Which Announced The Terrible News Of The Murder Of His Master By

A Mexican Indian Woman,  Supposed To Be Mad. There Were No Details,  But

Only The Explanation That He,  The Valet--Who Had Seen The Murder,  Which

Was The Work Of An Instant--Was Detained In New Orleans As A Witness For

The Prosecution,  And Should Not Be Able To Return Home Until After The

Trial. It Was Two Months After The Latter That The Valet Came Back To

England In Charge Of His Late Master's Effects,  Which Had All Been

Sealed By The