Belford's Magazine, Vol 2, December 1888

Bill understood, and, bending lower, placed his ear close to Benner's lips.

"Tell Levi I want him."

Away went Bill like a hurricane, jostling against Faro, who gave him a slap for his rudeness. He was scarcely out of the tent, when Levi entered and asked Benner what he wanted.

"Levi," a low, hoarse, eager tone, "jist knock off them green goggles thet Faro's teasin' her feller 'bout."

Just as Levi turned, as though half in doubt, the man laughed. Instantly Levi's indecision left him, and with a bound he stood before the couple.

"Beg your pardon, Miss Faro, but I've got a curiosity to see your lover's eyes."

The man with the goggles did not move.

"I think you're very impudent, driver, and I'll have Barkup discharge you," Mlle. Faro said indignantly.

A fiendishly gleeful laugh broke from Levi's lips.

"I'll bet you a dollar that one of his eyes is blue and the other black. Come now, Miss Faro."

The man with the goggles moved uneasily and slipped a hand under his coat. Levi watched him warily.

"I'll bet you five dollars that you are wrong," said Faro, angrily.

The man with the goggles rose quickly, and a knife flashed in his hand. Levi warded off the blow, and before it could be repeated Mlle. Faro held his arms by his side.

"Don't stab him, dear, 'cause that would stop the show too long on the road. Just show him your eyes, for I want to win his money."

Before he could free himself her deft fingers had removed the goggles.

"You see I have lost, Miss Faro," Levi said gayly; and then sternly added, "My brothers and I have been looking for you, John Gillfillan."

Hunch had come in, and was sitting on the couch. Blind Benner, leaning against him, was quivering with joy, and uttering low cries of satisfaction. Mlle. Faro heard them, and went to him. When she stood by the bed he was saying:

"Oh, Hunchy, I kin die happy now, 'cause I found Gill. Won't Lizzī be glad ter know it was Blind Benner what found him?"

"What does it all mean?" Faro asked.

He did not reply, but Hunch answered:

"He didn't marry Levi's sister right."

"He didn't? Let me kick him."

She ran to thus express her contempt for Gill, but Levi restrained her and led him away.

Hunch picked up the long knife which Mlle. Faro had taken from Gill and thrown on the ground.

"Gill, you must go back to Three-Sisters and marry Lizzī," said Levi, when they were out of the tent.

"All right, Levi, I'll go; but, to tell you the truth, I'm ashamed to meet Lizzī."

"I ain't doubtin' you," said Cassi, who, noiseless as a shadow, had followed to assist Levi if Gill should attempt to get away.

That was all that was said, the brothers not being talkers. One of them constantly remained with Gill.

Two days later the Colossal Aggregation went into winter quarters, and the members of it from Three-Sisters, accompanied by Gill, started homewards.

CHAPTER XVIII.

LIZZĪ'S VENGEANCE

On the last night of November a gypsy-like covered wagon stopped at the farther end of the river bridge at Three-Sisters. From it Levi and Gill alighted. Matthi and Cassi followed, and then paused to assist Parson Lawrence to the ground. Levi and Gill entered the bridge immediately at a rapid pace, the others following leisurely. Bill Kellar, Blind Benner, and Hunch were left in the wagon to follow later, in time to be guests at the wedding by the church's ceremony of Gill and Lizzī.

She sat near the stove, rocking the new cradle her father had brought that day from the chopping. It was made of wild grape-vines ingeniously plaited, and rocked smoothly on oak rockers. She was very proud of it, and as she moved it with a light motion of her foot, she hummed a lullaby which had soothed both grandfather and grandchild, for they slept, he sitting in the arm-chair where his wife died. His clay pipe was held lightly between his fingers.

Some one entered without knocking, and Lizzī slowly turned from the fire at which she had been gazing vacantly. Her glad cry of welcome startled her father, and the pipe slipped to the floor, breaking it in pieces; but he did not heed it, so astounded was he at seeing Lizzī throw her arms around a man's neck and lay her head against his chest. The man apparently was a stranger, but Lizzī soon informed her father who she greeted so affectionately.

"Oh, John!" she said, "you have come back at last, and I'll not see a finger pointing at me from everybody's eyes any more."

Gill had no reply ready for such a welcome, and none suggested itself to him. So he remained silent, while Lizzī, forgetful of the open door, wept on his shoulder. Levi, gazing upon the scene, was fully repaid for his long search for Gill.

Presently Peter arose, and walked with dignity to the door. Laying his hand on the latch, he paused and said sternly:

"Ef yer come back, Mister Gillfillan, ter cure the hurt yer give Lizzī, I'll shet this door with yer inside; but ef yer ain't, better let me shet it as yer found it yerself, with yer out in the dark."

Calmly he awaited the reply.

"If I have come for anything but Lizzī and the baby there in the cradle, I hope she will never forgive me for being away from her so long."

Gill spoke frankly.

When Peter slammed the door he was outside, peering into the darkness and hoping to discover the sons for whom his heart longed.

The jar caused by the door being shut so positively awoke the baby, and it began to cry.

"Come see the baby, John," said Lizzī. "There isn't a finer boy in the regi'n."

Then running to the cradle, she patted and soothed the child, exclaiming in the glad language and fond tones of happy mothers: "Oh! oh! it was too bad for its granddaddy to scare it awake that way."

She did not lift the infant from the cradle, for she wanted to keep Gill in ignorance as long as possible of the fire-mark that disfigured its cheek.

He admired his son very much, yet in lame sentences that seemed forced. A twinge of disappointment shot through Lizzī's heart, and a shadow of vexation passed over her face. Seeing the change in her countenance, he said:

"You know, Lizzī, that a man isn't much at praising a baby, no matter if he thinks it the prettiest child ever born."

This in a measure satisfied her, and, smiling brightly, she said:

"I think he looks like you, John."

He laughed, and sat down in the chair she had placed for him beside the one she had occupied. She, too, sat down, taking his hand in hers.

They were silent, she trying to frame a question about his absence, and he seeking for a proper introduction to the story he meant to tell. An exclamation from Peter McAnay interrupted her just as she had formulated her inquiry and was going to utter it.

"It's Levi," she cried, as his voice was heard replying to his father.

Hastening to the door, she opened it, and paused on the threshold. Her father was saying:

"Boys, I knowed yer was here when I waked up an' seen Gill. Yer done well, an' yer hev yer father's blessin'."

Gathered around him were Levi, Matthi, and Cassi, and just beyond them, in the semi-darkness, she could see another person, a tall man with white hair and beard.

Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she saw that Gill had risen and was standing near the table on which the lighted candles stood. Had not Cassi, who was nearest to her, thrown his arms around her, she would have shut the door and run to Gill to ask him a question. But Cassi held her and was kissing her cheek, and the other boys pressed forward for a welcome. Forced thus to remain she received her brothers, as joyously as her chilling heart would permit, gazing inquiringly the while at Parson Lawrence, whom she had recognized. At last, released from her brothers' embraces, she entered the house and went to the cradle, giving Gill an appealing look for an explanation of it all as she passed him. He stepped forward to speak to her, but Peter McAnay interrupted again.

"Lizzī, we'll have a great weddin' ter-night."

She had dropped on her knees by the cradle to soothe the infant, petulant at being neglected. Without rising, she looked over her shoulder at Gill, who went nearer to her and said:

"Lizzī, your father and brothers think we had better be married by a preacher; then no one would question our relations."

Slowly she rose to her full height, the baby held to her bosom, and her look defiant, uncompromising.

"No," she said, "married once to the same man is enough. If the first time isn't right, the second can't make it so. No, I won't throw doubt on my boy." Then she paused and kissed the child. "No" – something choked her, but she gulped and continued bravely – "I won't marry you again, John, for it would cast doubt on the boy."

There was a pathetic tenderness in her voice. Not yet had she given up her husband.

"You were all right," exclaimed the impetuous Levi, "but your marriage was not legal."

Gill turned to him in silent appeal. Lizzī listened with her lips apart, gazing in mute inquiry from one to the other of the men before her. Deliberately she tore open her dress and got the marriage-certificate once so precious in her eyes. Holding it before them with a shaking hand, she said:

"This is all I've got to keep my name clean and give my boy a right to his father's name. Why isn't it legal?"

There was a wail in her unsteady voice that cut her hearers to the heart.

"Because Squire Harker married you before he was commissioned, when he had no right to issue writs or marry people."

Levi spoke in a lawyer-like way, and the terrible meaning of each word was plain to her.

"John, did you know it?"

Her effort to be calm was great. Her voice indicated the measure of her success, as in even cold tones she asked for the truth.

He hesitated.

The certificate fluttered to the floor.

As she turned her back upon them all, Blind Benner, led by Hunch, came into the room. She sank upon her knees. The blind man groped his way to her and knelt by her side.

"Oh, John, you wronged me! You wronged me! You wronged me!" she repeated piteously, as she laid her head on the blind man's shoulder, and held her child close to her breast.

Parson Lawrence's beard was wet with the tears that flowed unheeded down his cheeks.

The brothers looked murder as their gleaming eyes saw their old father sink helpless and undone in a chair, while their sister grovelled before them.

In Hunch's hand, partly concealed, glittered the knife Gill had drawn on Levi in the circus-tent.

All waited for Gill to act, for upon him lay the burden of proof, although he was really the defendant in the case. Advancing to Lizzī he laid his hand gently on her shoulder, and said:

"Lizzī."

His touch restored her queenliness to her, and she stood erect in the majesty of scorn. Her contempt flashed from her eyes as with a magnificent sweep of her perfect arm she repelled him.

"What did you tell your mother?" she demanded, while with bowed head he obeyed the command of the gesture.

He did not lift his eyes.

"His mother had been dead for five years," said Levi, angrily.

"Then who wrote this?" she inquired imperiously, producing from the pocket where it had lain beside the certificate, which she now trampled upon, the letter Gill had read to her the night before his departure on the pretended visit to his mother.

All eyes were directed to him. His gaze was riveted to the floor.

"Oh, John, John! how could you, and in your mother's name, too?"

That was her only rebuke when his plan to ruin her was fully revealed.

With downcast eyes and slow step she moved towards the stove, intending to destroy the letter, but Levi snatched it from her hand, and read it aloud, despite her protestations.

When he had finished the letter he leaped at Gill with a shriek of rage, and thrust it into his face. Gill did not attempt to run or show fight, as Levi's hand closed on his throat in a grip that meant sure and speedy death.

"No, Levi, no; you must not punish him: leave that to me. And, Hunch Blair, how dare you?"

She stamped her foot at Hunch, and entwined her fingers around Levi's, her touch thrilling Gill as always it had done when she caressed him.

Hunch had darted forward with the knife uplifted, but Cassi had restrained him.

Matthi had turned to Parson Lawrence, who had begun to remonstrate, but ceased when Lizzī went to Gill's rescue.

Peter McAnay rose and looked approvingly on his son wreaking vengeance on the betrayer of his daughter, and frowned when she interfered to prevent a murder.

Levi obeyed her with savage reluctance, and Gill stood free, gasping for breath.

All the while Lizzī had held the baby to her heart, which she thought would not thump so hard if the child were pressed against it.

Hunch blurted, as he gave up the knife:

"He drawed it on Levi, an' I wanted ter stick it inter him."

That informed Lizzī fully: Gill had been compelled to come back to her. Looking around upon her brothers, she tried to smile gratefully, but it was a dim light that flittered across her face to leave a deeper shadow. They had meant well, but far better for her had they left Gill where they found him; for then, had he not returned, she would not have known that she had been his victim, and would have continued to mourn for him as dead, believing herself his widow.

Holding the child before him, she said: "Take your last look at him, John. See the fire-mark. I shivered when I first saw it, but didn't mind it long, for it made me think I had saved you from death once. But I do mind," and her voice rose and vibrated in scorn, "if he bears your name. That would be an awful mark on his soul for God to look at; a horrid ugly scar that would make him hideous to the angels that rung his mother's weddin' bell."

Her voice faltered a little as that pine-grove memory came over her, but it became strong again as she addressed Parson Lawrence.

"Will you baptize my boy?" she asked.

"Yes, yes," the saintly man replied, his voice ill controlled.

"His name will be Peter McAnay," she said simply. Then facing Gill, she held the child to him.

"You may kiss him, John."

The boy cried when Gill pressed his lips to the purple mark.

At that moment a sharp crash of glass was heard. The elbow of a man pushed by the crowd behind him on the porch had gone through a pane in the sash.

"Let down the blind, Hunch," Lizzī commanded.

Hunch pulled the string, tied in a bow, and the green shade shut off the crowd.

"Now, John, good-by."

She held out her hand to him, but withdrew it quickly. Her momentary tenderness vanished when she saw the eagerness in his eyes. She dared not shake hands, remembering how he had clung to her in Sugar-Camp Hollow. Another opportunity she dared not give him now, for he must know she was implacable. With the boy held to her bosom as if to shield him from Gill, she stood erect and pointed to the door.

"Go!"

It was a stern command.

She met his appealing look with unyielding gaze.

Slowly he walked to the door.

"Wait!" she called.

He paused, but did not turn.

"Have you any money?"

"Yes," he replied eagerly, and came back to her, a roll of bills in his extended hand.

"Give it to Levi."

"So much is mine, Levi," and she named an amount, remembering to a cent how much of his money she had spent.

Levi counted the sum, making change from his pocket.

Matthi and Cassi stood near the door, looking on in amazement. Parson Lawrence leaned against a table. Peter McAnay sat with his face buried in his hands. Hunch walked nervously around the room, while Blind Benner waited near Lizzī, hoping she would speak to him.

Levi returned the balance of the money to Gill; he proffered it to Lizzī.

"Not a cent," she said proudly. "The money you gave Levi is what I spent of his savin's, when I thought I was your wife; but not a cent of your money will I take from this on. I'll scrub and wash for a livin', if I must, and Benner, here, will help take care of little Peter. Now go!"

Compelled to give vent to her feelings, she impulsively kissed Blind Benner. His hand was across her eyes as he lovingly felt her face, and she did not see Gill pass through the door.

CHAPTER XIX.

BLIND BENNER SEES LIZZĪ

When Gill left Lizzī he was her subject; and no exile, however long, could diminish his loyalty to her. All his mature years he had been a libertine, cold, clever, selfish. No thrill except that of passion had stirred his blood, quickened his pulses; yet they beat quickly now as he stood outside of the home whose threshold he dared not cross. In his despair he loved the woman whom he had wronged.

A hard gripe was fastened on his collar. He closed his eyes and hoped he had been seized by one of her brothers who meant to kill him.

"Stop with me ter-night, Gill."

It was Henry Myers who spoke.

Gill was bewildered; the hubbub about him increasing his confusion.

"I will sleep in the bed of the river," he replied with a laugh. Then seeing Bill Kellar, he continued: "Take me home with you, Bill; fiddle up the devil and get him to grab me."

His humiliation was complete.

Henry gave him a push, and he walked along meekly, Hunch following close to his heels, and the crowd straggling after.

Without a word to any one Lizzī went to her room, which with the door closed became a holy place, where Grief was high-priest. Peter McAnay climbed the stairs softly and listened outside the door. The only sound he heard was the light tapping of her heel on the floor as she danced the baby on her knee.

Levi escorted Parson Lawrence to Seth Reed's house, and Blind Benner sought his home.

Matthi and Cassi went aimlessly out into the streets. Their oath had not been kept: Gill had escaped without punishment from them. They had not settled with him, because the Queen had forbidden them to harm him. Had they met him on the street, they would have stood aside, accepting the situation, while they thirsted for his blood.

On his way home from Seth Reed's, Levi stopped at Squire Harker's. From that official he learned of the bargain made by him and Gill in the shoe-shop. With this information to impart, Levi called on Squire Parsons and advised him to ride immediately to Squire Barton and procure a warrant for the arrest of both Squire Harker and Gill. Squire Parsons acted on the suggestion, and by midnight was far up the Boomer Creek road. The night was far spent when, warrant in hand, he set out to return to Three-Sisters. He rode hard, hoping to reach the village by daybreak. About a mile from the town his horse stumbled over a loose plank on a Boomer Creek bridge, and lamed himself so badly that the Squire was compelled to walk.

Lizzī rose early after a sleepless night, and taking the boy downstairs placed him in the cradle. He was sound asleep, and the noise she made in building a fire in the stove did not disturb him.

While the fire was catching she sat with her elbows resting on her knees and her hands clasped before her. Presently the sound of many feet marching in measured tread reached her. It grew more distinct, then ceased for a moment, was heard again, growing gradually fainter. She listened to it as if in a stupor, while the bacon sizzled meaningly in the skillet and the tea-kettle hummed a busy tune.

A surly, resolute crowd was leading John Gillfillan to the bridge to hang him. At first the intention was to lynch him before the Block, but some of the men urged in opposition to this plan that it would be too hard on Lizzī when she should learn that he had been killed in front of her door and she unable to prevent it because she was ignorant of it. Their counsel prevailed, and the bridge was decided upon as the place of execution.

Bill Kellar, assisted by Hunch, had told Henry Myers, who had recently been elected constable, and the constantly increasing crowd, the history of the search for Gill, and how at last Blind Benner had discovered him. For a conclusion to the narration, the dwarf gave a graphic description of as much as he had witnessed of the scene when Lizzī learned of Gill's perfidy and refused to be party to a second marriage ceremony with him.

"Yer orter be hung, damn yer!" Henry Myers fairly yelled, as he shook his fist in Gill's face.

"There's no telling but he fired the store fer ter kill hisself, forgettin' us poor folks thet might hev starved."

This suggestion of a burly teamster became as it passed from lip to lip an assertion, and violently-excited men surrounded Gill, charging him with incendiarism and daring him to deny the accusation. He was very white, but cool and quiet, neither defying them nor asking mercy at their hands. A grim sort of submission was expressed by his face as he stood against the wall of the little room and waited for a decision of the mob as to his punishment. When at last it was resolved to lynch him he betrayed no fear, and the crowd, awed by his calmness, became sullen. Loud tones gave place to surly growls that indicated inflexible determination to perform an act of justice that should both be a vengeance on the culprit – for not a man was present who had not fully convinced himself that Gill had set fire to the store – and a warning to all incendiaries of the fate that would be theirs if they should be so unfortunate as to be captured. A rope was procured, and a noose made in it, which was thrown over Gill's neck. Then he was led away to the execution.

Blind Benner had coughed almost incessantly from the time he went to bed, and at last in desperation rose. Dressing himself he sat down in a chair near the kitchen stove, in which the fire still smouldered. The change of posture gave him relief, and he fell asleep. The tread of the men passing the Block with Gill aroused him. Listening to the heavy, regular footfalls, and not hearing a voice, he feared he was dreaming. Creeping to the door, he opened it. The cold air rushing in started his cough and convinced him that he was awake. Struggling for a moment with the cough, he overcame it, and, impelled by a vague alarm, went down the porch steps. Pausing a moment, he listened again. The footsteps seemed far away. Groping his way to the end of the Block, he went into Big-bug Avenue, where he could hear them more plainly; yet they were going away from him towards the bridge.

His determination was taken at once, and rapidly he followed the crowd. Running recklessly, and keeping as near the middle of the street as he could, he stumbled often and at last fell. He rose quickly, not minding the pain, took one step and stopped, brought to a halt by an obstacle on which he placed his hands.

"It's the horse-block," he exclaimed joyfully, patting it affectionately, as he would a friend.

It was a friend indeed – a guide.

Leaving it, he went ahead slowly, swinging his arms and reaching as far as he could, pausing at every step. Presently the tips of his fingers touched something. Going nearer, he found he was beside a post, which he felt eagerly as if searching for some mark by which to know it. He found two rings hanging one above the other from staples driven into the wood.

Leaning against the post, he listened. A cold breeze blew over him, and he shivered, coughing in spite of the hand that covered his mouth. He hoped to hear some one speak, but nothing reached his ears from the bridge but the trampling of heavy boots on the floor. Again the wind blew, harder this time, and he coughed louder; but if he was heard, no one heeded him. A creaking sound came from above him, but he did not need the rasping screech of the sign on its rusty hinges to inform him that he was in front of the tavern. Listening a moment longer, he patted the post as he had done the horse-block, and stole towards the bridge. Soon from the remark of a man on the outskirts of the crowd he learned what was to be done.

"Heng Gill," he repeated in a whisper, half joyfully, wholly willing that it should be done. Then came the thought,

"But Lizzī would rether they wouldn't."

With eager, impatient search, he tried to find the sign-post to guide him towards the Block, where he had decided to go and tell her what was happening. Reach out as he would, he could not touch the post, and he began running in circles, striking out with his hands like a madman.

"Hunchy! Hunchy!" he called, but his voice was weak, and he was not heard.