CHAPTER XXIV
THE TRAIL OE THE SERPENT
“Alice, have you seen Esther McCleary lately?” Mark asked abruptly as he entered the house.
“No, I have not. She seems to avoid us since Elinor and Tibby came. I wonder if it is on account of Donald? Why does she act so?”
“I am afraid, Alice, there has been, or will be, a tragedy in Esther’s life, which will wreck it,” Mark answered.
“Why, what do you mean? What can have happened?”
“Have you heard nothing about her mysterious wanderings away from home lately?”
“No.”
“Well, it seems she has been given to somnambulancy. She has gotten up in the middle of the night and left the house upon more than one occasion. Last night, when I was coming home from the fort, I came upon her walking alone upon the prairie, wringing her hands and sobbing bitterly. I called to her, and she at first tried to run from me, but at last she allowed me to put her upon my horse and bring her home. I questioned her, and finally the poor child told me the cause of her wanderings. It seems Russell’s power did not end with his presence, but after hypnotizing her a number of times he could control her, even though absent. He never tried to use this baneful power until recently, or since he was here the last time before now.”
“But when did he come back? I didn’t know he had returned,” said Alice, a troubled look upon her face.
“The Lord only knows!” replied Mark, with a scowl. “I hoped we’d seen the last of him.”
“I did too, Mark. I really did. I have been so much happier since Elinor and Tibby came, and now, when it is most time for them to go, to think he’s come again.”
“He must not come here—after they have gone away, at any rate. I don’t mind it much if they are here, for Tibby, I think, will be a match for him. But afterwards, if I catch him here I’ll shoot him like the vermin he is!”
“But, Mark, they’d hang you for it.”
“’Twould be in a good cause. But really I don’t think he’ll come again after I have interviewed him once. This affair of Esther’s is going to make the place too hot for him.”
“O, yes, you were telling me. Go on. What about Esther?”
“Why, it appears he willed her to meet him in the cotton-wood grove that borders the canon. The poor child swears that she knew nothing and was conscious of nothing until she found herself face to face with this arch-fiend, alone and beyond the call of friends. She tried to flee from him, but could not. He seemed to hold her, powerless to help herself.”
“You horrify me, Mark!”
“I am myself so enraged I can hardly exercise self-control. Think of having a man in the community with the power to call his victims to him at will.”
“Does Donald know of this?”
“No, I think not yet. I am afraid that when he does it will end everything between him and Esther, if there has been anything, which I doubt. I believe Don has a friendly interest in Esther, but I suspect he is growing fond of Tibby.”
“Indeed! Well, I don’t see how he could help it. But Esther is such a good girl.”
“Yes, before she became the nervous wreck she is, because of that—Russell.” Mark ground his teeth.
“O Mark, this is dreadful, dreadful! What can be done?”
“The hound must be driven from this community, now and forever. This poor girl’s obsession is sufficient excuse for a mob with tar and feathers. Were it not for the publicity of the thing, and the pain Esther would experience should these night wanderings be made public, I would organize a posse myself, to-night, and ride the fellow out of the territory on a rail.”
“Ah, Mark, you must not go against the laws of the land. Mob violence can never be right.”
“I don’t know, Alice—when one has a case like this which the law would not touch.”
“Will not the law touch it?”
“I don’t know. I am going to town to-morrow to find out if there is not some way in which he may be held under the law. As for Esther, I wish she might be sent away from this place—away from his hateful influence and pestiferous power.”
“Ah, could she get away from it? Is there any place where it might not follow her? Mark, wouldn’t it be well for you to see Mrs. McCleary? Surely she could not sanction such possession of her daughter.”
“That is a good idea, Alice. I will go to see her to-day—now. If there’s a heart in that woman I’ll try to find it. This is a mission for which you are better suited, but in your nervous state it may be more than you could do.”
“I would rather trust you,” Alice replied.
Mark rapped at Mrs. McCleary’s door a half hour later, and asked the child who admitted him if he might see her mother.
“Well, well! Oi declare, Mr. Mark, Oi’m delighted if you’ve found toime an’ inclination to give us a little of yer society,” cried Mrs. McCleary, coming forward. “Oi told Esther Oi didn’t see why some of the neighbors didn’t call oftener. We’re always glad to see ’em. And how is Alice, and that noice sister, and the perty girl with her? Oi am shure Alice must enjoy their company so much.” As she paused to take breath, Mark interposed.
“We do both enjoy them very much. But where is Esther, Mrs. McCleary?”
“Esther? O, she is giving the children their baths. Oi have to leave all such work to her now. But she’ll be through varry soon, Oi’m shure. Just help yourself to some of them plums on the table, Misther Mark.”
“Thank you. They are very nice, and I always enjoy eating them. This fruit makes up to us for the lack of apples and other fruits of the East, which we have not started here yet. Nature is compensative. But I want to talk to you, Mrs. McCleary, rather than Esther, and upon a somewhat delicate subject.”
“Yes?” Mrs. McCleary’s voice slid upward interrogatively. “Oi waant ter know.”
“Do you know the extent of Professor Russell’s power over your daughter?”
“Why, to be shure, Mr. Cramer. Who should know, if not her mother?”
“And do you approve of his compelling her to walk in the fields at night? Believe me, Mrs. McCleary, I ask this from no idle motive. I am interested in your daughter’s welfare and good name.”
“He compel her? Professor Russell compel her? Why, ye’re crazy, Mark Cramer!” The woman’s Irish temper was rising.
“But it is true she has gotten up in the night and wandered away, alone, is it not?”
“It is thrue Esther has walked in her shlape once or twice.”
“But is he not the cause, when she goes to meet him?”
“Mr. Cramer, what d’ye mean, insinuating such things of my Esther?”
“Mrs. McCleary, this is a painful revelation I must make you. But I know that this has occurred, at least once, and I know that Esther was constrained to go to this meeting by other power than her volition.”
“Oi don’t belave ye, Mark Cramer,” said the now thoroughly angry woman. “Oi don’t know what yer object is in coming here and defaming moy poor girrl. Oi don’t belave Professor Russell would use any power he has to hurt moy child’s good name. It’s all along of yer prejudice of the maan, that yer thryin’ to make trouble.”
“But, Mrs. McCleary, listen to me, I beg of you, for Esther’s sake. You don’t want me to believe that Esther would go of her own free will to such an appointment?”
“If she has gone, it’s the sperits as has led her. And Oi can’t belave they would harm a hair of her head, aither. When the sperits used to come here first, McCleary used to say, ‘Ye’ll lose all yer friends, Miranda, av ye toike ony sthock in these sperits,’ and Oi sez, sez Oi, ‘If moy friends can’t sthand the sperits, they’re not moy friends at all, an’ I can get along without thim.’”
Mrs. McCleary was thoroughly aroused, and her hands trembled as she clasped the arms of her rocking-chair.
“You are willing, are you, that the spirits should compromise your daughter? Mrs. McCleary, there is not a man, woman, or child in this community that would not grieve to hear this thing of Esther, and would gladly shield and protect her from such influences; but her own mother will not listen nor try to save her.”
“Ye don’t know what ye’re talking about, Mark Cramer. If the sperits—but I don’t belave it at all, at all.”
“Mother!” It was Esther herself who interrupted them, Esther standing in the doorway, her face white to chalkiness, her dark-lined eyelids heavy with their burden of tears, her voice thrilling with its passionate intensity. “Mother, Mr. Cramer speaks the truth. It is no spirit that controls me, but the wicked, black one—oh, blacker than hell itself!—which lodges in the breast of that dreadful man, Russell. I have prayed to you, O my mother, to save me from him. I have prayed to Heaven as well, upon my bended knees, but Heaven and my own mother have been deaf to my prayers. You would not hear me, you would not believe me. Yes, you, you, mother, have made me see him, forced me against my own will to see him, until he now controls me, body and soul. If he bade me, I should walk into the bottomless pit. And I hate him, hate him, hate him! O mother, mother, mother!” Esther’s voice ended in a shriek and her slender body swayed as she staggered forward toward the woman whose breast should have been her safe and sure refuge.
Mark caught the half-fainting girl and supported her to a chair.
“Try to calm yourself, Esther,” said Mark.
“Yes, Esther, do be calm! Ye’ve upset moy nerves complately. What does make ye take on so? Oi nivver saw ye in sich a state, nivver.”
“Mrs. McCleary, in view of all this, will you not promise me that Russell shall never again enter this house?” Mark asked with resolution.
“Oi—oh—what can Oi promise? Where is Mr. McCleary. It seems to me ye’re all afther drivin’ me crazy!” And putting her handkerchief to her face she sobbed and waved one hand despairingly.
Fortunately the hesitating, shuffling, uncertain step of Mr. McCleary was heard coming up the path, and in a few moments he entered the room.
He looked from one to the other in a helpless, bewildered manner, then turned to his wife.
“Mr. McCleary, will you try to keep Professor Russell from your house? This is all trouble of his making. He has gained possession of your daughter’s will until she is obliged to wander out upon the prairie at night if he bids her to do so. She is completely in his power, poor girl. Only careful watchfulness upon your part and the expulsion of the villain from the community can avail. Look at your child, Mr. McCleary, and see if you will permit him to destroy her!” said Mark, with feeling.
He pointed to the sobbing face of Esther, now pressed against the back of the chair, and ghastly in its grief.
The little man looked helplessly at his wife, then at his stricken child, and his head shook with agitation.
“Yes, I’ll try—I’ll try. We will, won’t we, Miranda? We’ll try to keep him away from Esther. I say, Esther, do you want him kept away?” he continued, going to her side and lifting her poor head in his arms. “My little girlie, do ye want him kept away?” he quavered.
“Yes, yes! O papa, if he had never come here!” she moaned, pressing her forehead against his breast. “Papa—papa!”
Mr. McCleary blew his nose and coughed uneasily.
“I’ll promise yer, Mr. Cramer. I’ll promise he sha’n’t. He sha’n’t come if I can prevent it. Poor Esther—there, little girl! He sha’n’t come here again if I can help it.”
For a wonder, Mrs. McCleary said nothing, but with her face concealed in her handkerchief, rocked back and forth in her chair to the accompaniment of her sobbing; and feeling that Esther was finding comfort in the paternal arms, with the old man’s promise, Mark took his leave.
“Nor if I can prevent it, shall he come here again!” he muttered as he walked away. “And I think I can—I think I can.”