"There is as little mystery in the one as in the other. You may judge that my sphere of action--speaking of _action_ in a literal sense--was rather circ.u.mscribed at Gwinnett courthouse: but, the fact is, I was then but acquiring my education. I was, for the first time, studying rogues, and the study of rogues is not unaptly fitted to make one take up the business. _I_, at least, found it to have that effect. But, even at Gwinnett courthouse, learning as I did, and what I did, there was one pa.s.sion, or perhaps a modified form of the ruling pa.s.sion, which might have swallowed up all the rest had time been allowed it. I was young, and not free from vanity; particularly as, for the first time, my ears had been won with praise and gentle flatteries. The possession of early, and afterward undisputed talents, acquired for me deference and respect; and I was soon tempted to desire the applauses of the swinish mult.i.tude, and to feel a thirsting after public distinction. In short, I grew ambitious. I soon became sick and tired of the applauses, the fame, of my own ten-mile horizon; its origin seemed equivocal, its worth and quality questionable, at the best. My spirit grew troubled with a wholesale discontent, and roved in search of a wider field, a more elevated and extensive empire. But how could I, the petty lawyer of a county court, in the midst of a wilderness, appropriate time, find means and opportunities even for travel? I was poor, and profits are few to a small lawyer, whose best cases are paid for by a bale of cotton or a negro, when both of them are down in the market. In vain, and repeatedly, did I struggle with circ.u.mstances that for ever foiled me in my desires; until, in a rash and accursed hour, when chance, and you, and the devil, threw the opportunity for crime in my path! It did not escape me, and--but you know the rest."
"I do, but would rather hear you tell it. When you speak thus, you put me in mind of some of the stump-speeches you used to make when you ran for the legislature."
"Ay, that was another, and not the least of the many reverses which my ambition was doomed to meet with. You knew the man who opposed me; you know that a more shallow and insignificant fop and fool never yet dared to thrust his head into a deliberative a.s.sembly. But, he was rich, and I poor. He a potato, the growth of the soil; I, though generally admitted a plant of more promise and pretension--I was an exotic! He was a patrician--one of the small n.o.bility--a growth, _sui generis_, of the place--"
"d.a.m.n your law-phrases! stop with that, if you please."
"Well, well! he was one of the great men; I was a poor plebeian, whose chief misfortune, at that time, consisted in my not having a father or a great-grandfather a better man than myself! His money did the work, and I was bought and beat out of my election, which I considered certain. I then acquired knowledge of two things. I learned duly to estimate the value of the democratic principle, when I beheld the vile slaves, whose votes his money had commanded, laughing in scorn at the miserable creature they had themselves put over them. They felt not--not they--the double shame of their doings. They felt that he was King Log, but never felt how despicable they were as his subjects. This taught me, too, the value of money--its wonderful magic and mystery. In the mood occasioned by all these things, you found me, for the first time, and in a ready temper for any villany. You attempted to console me for my defeats, but I heard you not until you spoke of revenge. I was not then to learn how to be vindictive: I had always been so. I knew, by instinct, how to lap blood; you only taught me how to scent it! My first great crime proved my nature. Performed under your direction, though without your aid, it was wantonly cruel in its execution, since the prize desired might readily have been obtained without the life of its possessor. You, more merciful than myself, would have held me back, and arrested my stroke; but that would have been taking from the repast its finish: the pleasure, for it was such to me in my condition of mind, would have been lost entirely. It may sound strangely even in your ears when I say so, but I could no more have kept my knife from that man"s throat than I could have taken wing for the heavens. He was a poor coward; made no struggle, and begged most piteously for his life; had the audacity to talk of his great possessions, his rank in society, his wife and children. These were enjoyments all withheld from me; these were the very things the want of which had made me what I was--what I am--and furiously I struck my weapon into his mouth, silencing his insulting speech. Should such a mean spirit as his have joys which were denied to me? I spurned his quivering carca.s.s with my foot. At that moment I felt myself; I had something to live for. I knew my appet.i.te, and felt that it was native. I had acquired a knowledge of a new luxury, and ceased to wonder at the crimes of a Nero and a Caligula. Think you, Munro, that the thousands who a.s.semble at the execution of a criminal trouble themselves to inquire into the merits of his case--into the justice of his death and punishment? Ask they whether he is the victim of justice or of tyranny? No! they go to see a show--they love blood, and in this way have the enjoyment furnished to their hands, without the risk which must follow the shedding of it for themselves."
"There is one thing, Guy, upon which I never thought to ask you. What became of that beautiful young girl from Carolina, on a visit to the village, when you lost your election? You were then cavorting about her in great style, and I could see that you were well nigh as much mad after her as upon the loss of the seat."
Rivers started at the inquiry in astonishment. He had never fancied that, in such matters, Munro had been so observant, and for a few moments gave no reply. He evidently winced beneath the inquiry; but he soon recovered himself, however--for, though at times exhibiting the pa.s.sions of a demoniac, he was too much of a proficient not to be able, in the end, to command the coolness of the villain.
"I had thought to have said nothing on this subject, Munro, but there are few things which escape your observation. In replying to you on this point, you will now have all the mystery explained of my rancorous pursuit of this boy. That girl--then a mere girl--refused me, as perhaps you know; and when, heated with wine and irritated with rejection, I pressed the point rather too warmly, she treated me with contempt and withdrew from the apartment. This youth is the favored, the successful rival. Look upon this picture, Walter--now, while the moon streams through the branches upon it--and wonder not that it maddened, and still maddens me, to think that, for his smooth face and aristocratic airs of superiority, I was to be sacrificed and despised. She was probably a year younger than himself; but I saw at the time, though both of them appeared unconscious of the fact, that she loved him then. What with her rejection and scorn, coming at the same time with my election defeat, I am what I am. These defeats were wormwood to my soul; and, if I am criminal, the parties concerned in them have been the cause of the crime."
"A very consoling argument, if you could only prove it!"
"Very likely--you are not alone. The million would say with yourself.
But hear the case as I put it, and not as it is put by the majority.
Providence endowed me with a certain superiority of mind over my fellows. I had capacities which they had not--talents to which they did not aspire, and the possession of which they readily conceded to me.
These talents fitted me for certain stations in society, to which, as I had the talents pre-eminently for such stations, the inference is fair that Providence intended me for some such stations. But I was denied my place. Society, guilty of favoritism and prejudice, gave to others, not so well fitted as myself for its purposes or necessities, the station in all particulars designed for me. I was denied my birthright, and rebelled. Can society complain, when prost.i.tuting herself and depriving me of my rights, that I resisted her usurpation and denied her authority? Shall she, doing wrong herself in the first instance, undertake to punish? Surely not. My rights were admitted--my superior capacity: but the people were rotten to the core; they had not even the virtue of truth to themselves. They made their own governors of the vilest and the worst. They willingly became slaves, and are punished in more ways than one. They first create the tyrants--for tyrants are the creatures of the people they sway, and never make themselves; they next drive into banishment their more legitimate rulers; and the consequence, in the third place, is, that they make enemies of those whom they exile.
Such is the case with me, and such--but hark! That surely is the tread of a horse. Do you hear it? there is no mistake now--" and as he spoke, the measured trampings were heard resounding at some distance, seemingly in advance of them.
"We must now use the spur, Munro; your horses have had indulgence enough for the last hour, and we may tax them a little now."
"Well, push on as you please; but do you know anything of this route, and what course will you pursue in doing him up?"
"Leave all that to me. As for the route, it is an old acquaintance; and the blaze on this tree reminds me that we can here have a short cut which will carry us at a good sweep round this hill, bringing us upon the main trace about two miles farther down. We must take this course, and spur on, that we may get ahead of him, and be quietly stationed when he comes. We shall gain it, I am confident, before our man, who seems to be taking it easily. He will have three miles at the least to go, and over a road that will keep him in a walk half the way. We shall be there in time."
They reached the point proposed in due season. Their victim had not yet made his appearance, and they had sufficient time for all their arrangements. The place was one well calculated for the successful accomplishment of a deed of darkness. The road at the foot of the hill narrowed into a path scarcely wide enough for the pa.s.sage of a single horseman. The shrubbery and copse on either side overhung it, and in many places were so thickly interwoven, that when, as at intervals of the night, the moon shone out among the thick and broken clouds which hung upon and mostly obscured her course, her scattered rays scarcely penetrated the dense enclosure.
At length the horseman approached, and in silence. Descending the hill, his motion was slow and tedious. He entered the fatal avenue; and, when in the midst of it, Rivers started from the side of his comrade, and, advancing under the shelter of a tree, awaited his progress. He came--no word was spoken--a single stroke was given, and the horseman, throwing up his hands, grasped the limb which projected over, while his horse pa.s.sed from under him. He held on for a moment to the branch, while a groan of deepest agony broke from his lips, when he fell supine to the ground. At that moment, the moon shone forth unimpeded and un.o.bscured by a single cloud. The person of the wounded man was fully apparent to the sight. He struggled, but spoke not; and the hand of Rivers was again uplifted, when Munro rushed forward.
"Stay--away, Guy!--we are mistaken--this is not our man!"
The victim heard the words, and, with something like an effort at a laugh, though seemingly in great agony, exclaimed--
"Ah, Munro, is that you?--I am so glad! but I"m afraid you come too late. This is a cruel blow; and--for what? What have I done to you, that--oh!--"
The tones of the voice--the person of the suffering man--were now readily distinguishable.
"Good G.o.d! Rivers, what is to be the end of all this blundering?"
"Who would have thought to find _him_ here?" was the ferocious answer; the disappointed malice of the speaker prompting him to the bitterest feelings against the unintended victim--"why was he in the way? he is always in the way!"
"I am afraid you"ve done for him."
"We must be sure of it."
"Great G.o.d! would you kill him?"
"Why not? It must be done now."
The wounded man beheld the action of the speaker, and heard the discussion. He gasped out a prayer for life:--
"Spare me, Guy! Save me, Wat, if you have a man"s heart in your bosom.
Save me! spare me! I would live! I--oh, spare me!"
And the dying man threw up his hands feebly, in order to avert the blow; but it was in vain. Munro would have interposed, but, this time, the murderer was too quick for him, if not too strong. With a sudden rush he flung his a.s.sociate aside, stooped down, and smote--smote fatally.
"Kate!--ah!--O G.o.d, have mercy!"
The wretched and unsuspecting victim fell back upon the earth with these last words--dead--sent to his dread account, with all his sins upon his head! And what a dream of simple happiness in two fond, feeble hearts, was thus cruelly and terribly dispersed for ever!
CHAPTER XXIII.
WHAT FOLLOWED THE MURDER.
There was a dreadful pause, after the commission of the deed, in which no word was spoken by either of the parties. The murderer, meanwhile, with the utmost composure wiped his b.l.o.o.d.y knife in the coat of the man whom he had slain. Boldly and coolly then, he broke the silence which was certainly a painful one to Munro if not to himself.
"We shall hear no more of his insolence. I owed him a debt. It is paid.
If fools will be in the way of danger, they must take the consequences."
The landlord only groaned.
The murderer laughed.
"It is your luck," he said, "always to groan with devout feeling, when you have _done_ the work of the devil! You may spare your groans, if they are designed for repentance. They are always too late!"
"It is a sad truth, though the devil said it."
"Well, rouse up, and let"s be moving. So far, our ride has been for nothing. We must leave this carrion to the vultures. What next? Will it be of any use to pursue this boy again to-night? What say you? We must pursue and silence him of course; but we have pushed the brutes already sufficiently to-night. They would be of little service to-night, in a longer chase."
The person addressed did not immediately reply, and when he spoke, did not answer to the speech of his companion. His reply, at length, was framed in obedience to the gloomy and remorseful course of his thought.
"It will be no wonder, Guy, if the whole country turn out upon us. You are too wanton in your doings. Wherefore when I told you of your error, did you strike the poor wretch again."
The landlord, it will be seen, spoke simply with reference to policy and expediency, and deserved as little credit for humanity as the individual he rebuked. In this particular lay the difference between them. Both were equally ruffianly, but the one had less of pa.s.sion, less of feeling, and more of profession in the matter. With the other, the trade of crime was adopted strictly in subservience to the dictates of ill-regulated desires and emotions, suffering defeat in their hope of indulgence, and stimulating to a morbid action which became a disease.
The references of Munro were always addressed to the petty gains; and the miserly nature, thus perpetually exhibiting itself, at the expense of all other emotions, was, in fact, the true influence which subjected him almost to the sole dictation of his accomplice, in whom a somewhat lofty distaste for such a peculiarity had occasioned a manner and habit of mind, the superiority of which was readily felt by the other. Still, we must do the landlord the justice to say that he had no such pa.s.sion for bloodshed as characterized his companion.
"Why strike again!" was the response of Rivers. "You talk like a child.
Would you have had him live to blab? Saw you not that he knew us both?
Are you so green as to think, if suffered to escape, his tongue or hands would have been idle? You should know better. But the fact is, he could not have lived. The first blow was fatal; and, if I had deliberated for an instant, I should have followed the suggestions of your humanity--I should have withheld the second, which merely terminated his agony."