"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.