Chapter LXXXIX: The Empty Pistol-Case

Diamond Island was deserted. Old Sam and Celia were once more left alone. The wounded man had been taken home. There was no reason now why Bertha should remain in that lonely place, so she became a guest at the Fletcher mansion, and after much solicitation from Mrs. Forbes, Clara Anderson went there also, with Lydia of course.

But unrest and lingering anxieties followed them all. The gentlemen were grave and kept much alone together. This made the ladies thoughtful, and vague apprehensions haunted them, without seeming cause; for they were ignorant of that cruel poem which was so often a subject of conversation between the husband and brothers.

But the greatest change of all was with Lydia. Every day the girl became more strangely silent and hollow-eyed. She was devoted in her attentions to Bertha, and every night would hang around her bed in silent watchfulness, as if she longed to say something which her heart refused to give up. She haunted Clara Anderson with the same affectionate unrest. At daylight she would be at her post again, still silent and strangely gentle.

When either of the young ladies noticed this, Lydia would answer with a pathetic smile, that she was not very well, and had a constant pain in her chest; but Aunt Celia was doctoring her up with herbs. That was why she went down to the island every day, and remained there so long.

Thus things went on till a company of negroes from Willow Bend came down to the island, to clear up the grounds and plant rude tables for the grand barbecue, which was to celebrate the marriage of Waldon with Mr. Noel’s heiress.

Lydia was there at the time, and asked them many questions. They informed her that the York gentleman had brought the young mistress home, for a week or two, just to give the darkies an old-fashioned Virginia breakdown. Mr. Noel had gone out to sea, and couldn’t be present, but the young couple were coming to the island, sure. So was Mr. Hyde, with ever so much company from New York and Richmond. Of course Mr. Fletcher’s people would get invitations. Perhaps she might be among them.

All this Lydia heard from the men themselves, or from Sam, who talked incessantly while rowing her ashore.

In due time the invitations came to the servants on Fletcher’s plantation, including Lydia. Perhaps Waldon, who had arrived, knew nothing of this, for the colored committee of Willow Bend had a certain number of invitations, and sent them independently.

Fletcher, who was busy with more important thoughts, ignored the whole affair; but his people, true as steel to the old family loyalty, one and all, refused to join a celebration given by the master’s open foe.

Lydia alone reserved her decision.

The night before this celebration was to come off, Mr. Forbes and his brother-in-law, young Lane, were shut up for an hour or more in Forbes’ private room, with the door locked and the blinds closed.

During this time, Lydia was walking up and down on the veranda unnoticed, for there was no moon, and the night was cloudy and dark. Besides, the girl moved stealthily, like a cat, and turned the bars of that window-blind with such slow caution that the men deliberating together had no idea that they were observed.

The sash within the blinds was up, and Lydia could hear as well as see. A pistol-case was open on the table, and the gentlemen were looking at each other in blank surprise.

“The case is here, but the pistols must have been left on the island,” said Lane, closing the lid with an impatient movement. “I’m afraid that man has gained another day upon us. Their jollification comes off to-morrow. I would not have any of Fletcher’s people seen within a mile of the place; besides, I don’t think one of them would go, even to obey my orders. We must wait till this is over. Hand the letter this way. We shall know where to find it.”

Forbes took up a letter, folded in its envelope, but unsealed, and reached it across the table.

Lane placed it in a drawer, and was about to turn the key, when a shower of light knocks came rattling upon the door, and he started up, motioning Forbes to put away the pistol-case.

“What on earth are you both about?” cried Mrs. Forbes, gathering up the silk of her long train, as she swept into the room. “Talking, and without cigars, too! while here are a poor forsaken wife and lady-love pining for company. Why, how guilty you look! Bertha—Clara Anderson, what have these two wretches been about?”

“Hatching treason against you both, of course,” said Forbes, turning from the cabinet where he had locked up the pistol-case. “But we are detected; so arrest us, and let our prison be the little back drawing-room, where you can torture your wretched captives with music, if such cruelty is possible to the female heart.”

“March on in front, then,” laughed Mrs. Forbes, stamping her foot.

The two men obeyed her.

The moment they were gone, Lydia threw open the blinds, leaped into the room, and had that letter in her hands.

It was a challenge from Edward Lane to Russell Waldon! The young man had determined that the next encounter should be his; and, unknown to Fletcher—who was worse—had taken the affair into his own hands.