On that night which followed Curtis Coe"s wicked impertinence, two men sat up with the sick man. They must both have fallen asleep at one and the same time, for they discovered on coming to their senses, that Thornton Rush was nowhere to be found. The lamp was burning, even the fire in the stove had not died out. Having searched the room, they gave the alarm, and thoroughly searched the house, then all the outhouses, and finally the town.
All cla.s.ses, friend and foe, were aroused. A general panic prevailed.
Each one considered himself in danger, while Thornton Rush, as a lunatic, was at large. Posters were sent abroad and telegrams announced the mysterious disappearance to neighboring villages and cities. The river was dragged, old cellars and wells were dived into.
Windsor had at length a mystery, and it was an appalling one. People began to canva.s.s it in whisper. A suspicion began to be bruited around.
We do not affirm that Mrs. Moffat originated this suspicion, but she whispered it about from house to house. It was to this strange effect, the Catholics had formed a league and spirited away this enemy of their faith. Kitty Brett had boldly set his words at defiance, and the priest had boldly entered the house he had been forbidden, and baptized and anointed, and practiced what other witcheries he had no business.
If Kitty would do this much, and if Father Ryan would do that much, why, what was there they would _not_ do?
This view of the case accounted for the wise solemnity prevailing among the Catholics generally. They were observed to purse up their mouths, and shake their heads; and one old patriarch had been heard to say that the Evil One had got his own. Why should he say that, if he did not know something about it?
It became another Morgan affair. Women began to turn off Catholic servant girls. There was a strong talk of discharging every Irishman from the Mills and Railroad. A continual espionage upon the movements of the Catholics was kept up. Traps were laid for self-committal. Bribes were offered and promises of security to any who would turn State"s evidence. Threats were made here and there that leading Catholics should be arrested; at all events, the ringleader should be made to suffer. All seemed to settle down upon that Father Ryan must necessarily have been the aider and abettor, if not the suggestor, in such a high-handed proceeding. It mattered not, that during his five years" stay at Windsor, he had lived peaceably and orderly, and set a good example. All that served but a cloak to just such deeds as this kidnapping of a respectable citizen.
This whirlwind of talk, however, amounted to nothing more. The Catholic population was getting stronger every day; it was surprising how many new families kept pouring in. So it happened no one dared lay hands on Father Ryan.
Autumn pa.s.sed into winter, and winter merged into spring, still no trace had been discovered of the missing man.
Althea had entirely recovered the health and bloom of youth. She was never more beautiful than now, at the still early age of twenty-two. She had mourned for her husband only as for a soul that was lost. She believed he must have perished in some strange way, and her daily prayer was that the manner of his death might some time be brought to light.
The good G.o.d had s.n.a.t.c.hed herself from the verge of the grave. He had said unto her, through his servant, "wait, and trust in G.o.d," and G.o.d had delivered her out of her troubles. She lived alone at Vine Cottage, the faithful Kitty her servant and companion.
CHAPTER XXIX.
HUBERT"S SECOND VISIT.
In June, the month of roses, came Hubert Lisle to visit Althea. He came thus early in her presumed widowhood, to woo her for his wife. But she would not hear one word of love from his lips. She had studied her religion, and found that its laws forbade marriage with another until abundant proof had been obtained of the death of her husband. So far, she had but proof presumptive. He had disappeared at such a time and in such a state as, to most minds, forbade even a possibility that he should have continued to exist. Again, the Catholic rule forbade the marriage of cousins.
Hubert urged to this that they were not strictly cousins. His father and her mother were but half-brother and sister.
Again, the Catholic Church did not forbid, but strongly discountenanced the marriage of a Catholic with a Protestant. She, Althea, loved her Church so well, she would not do that which the Church disapproved.
These were three great obstacles in the way then, to his marriage with Althea, Hubert found. He began to think he had now a more formidable opponent in the Church than he had had in Thornton Rush. He had succeeded in winning from Althea a promise to sue for a divorce. The rest would be easy. But he found it impossible, with all his eloquence, to prevail upon her to take one step contrary even to the wish of this more tyrannical guardian. He even went to the priest. He had seen Father Ryan at Ma.s.s, for, of course, he accompanied his cousin. He judged from his open, honest face that it would be an easy matter to win him over to his views. He entered upon the subject confidently, but ended very much discomfited. Father Ryan would listen to but one point, which was that Althea was not at liberty to entertain thoughts of marriage until conclusive proof was obtained of her husband"s death. Hubert reverting to the other points--"All that comes afterward," was all the priest would say.
"But, supposing nothing more is ever heard of Thornton Rush, which is almost certain, is Althea to live a widow to the end of her days?"
questioned Hubert incredulously.
"Yes," replied the priest. "And allow me to intimate," he continued gently, "that, entertaining the dispositions you do, it is improper you should remain a guest at Vine Cottage. As a cousin you were privileged, perhaps, according to your Protestant views, but as you are a suitor, it is quite different."
Having politely listened to these words of the priest, he wisely made up his mind to take his leave, before he should hear them reiterated from the lips of Althea.
"Well, cousin," presenting himself before her, on returning from the priest"s, "I have had the courage, or the impudence, to consult Father Ryan; he is as inexorable as yourself. It is astonishing with what an iron will this Catholic faith infuses people. Last fall you promised to marry me, although a thousand difficulties were to be overcome. Now, that you are your own mistress, according to every human probability, and you are at perfect liberty, free from any scruples about the right and wrong of the thing, and yet--and yet how strange! You have scruples more binding a hundred fold. And Father Ryan, the gentlest, quietest person, whom you would not believe could say _no_, whom I made sure I could prevail upon to intercede for me, is just as resolute as Napoleon, as unyielding as Draco. What does it mean? Is it in the religion or what?"
"I believe, Hubert, it is the love of G.o.d in the heart. We love G.o.d better than the world, or aught the world can offer. We love G.o.d so well, that we fear to break His holy law," replied Althea.
"But others love G.o.d too, who are not Catholics, but they are not so inexorably bound."
"They have not the restraints of the Church. They have not its laws to govern them, its teachings to instruct, its pastors to guide and direct.
Moreover, they cannot expect heavenly graces in abundance who are out of the true Church. Christ"s promise of a.s.sistance is to His Church, His anathema against those who will not hear it."
"It looks to me as though you had taken upon yourself a yoke, and the bonds of servitude," Hubert remarked disconsolately.
"The bonds of the dear Lord Jesus, yes," and Althea"s countenance glowed with enthusiasm.
"But Christian bonds should not press so heavily. Protestants in all these things do as they please, yet they profess to be bound with the same fetters."
"Profess! what use in professing when every day they burst them asunder as would they gossamer threads? I a.s.sure you, Hubert, that is one of the beauties of the Catholic Church. Its laws are so binding, its teachings so direct, its discipline so perfect, that one cannot stray away blindly. The obedient child who would be pained not to do the Father"s will is kept in the straight and narrow way, the light is held steadily before his eyes; if he stumble or turn aside he is brought back, and if he become restive and the "fetters," grateful to the loving child, bind too galling he throws them off, more willing to be lost than bear self-denial for the present. For myself, Hubert, I have started for heaven, confident of arriving if I follow the path marked out for me. If I do not follow in that path I have no hope but of straying far from that desired haven, the happy land of souls."
"Althea, I believe you have never loved me," suddenly exclaimed Hubert, steadily regarding his cousin.
"That is a cruel a.s.sertion, and it wounds me more than you can think,"
returned the lady, deeply moved. "Would I could forget that I ever loved you! The memory recalls my sin, my shame, and, thank G.o.d, my repentance. I deserve that you should recall all this to me, but I pray you, if you have regard for me, never to refer to this again."
"Forgive me, Althea, I did not intend thus to pain you. You are right and I am wrong. While regretting, I honor you the more for the n.o.ble stand you have taken. I go, Althea, and should I ever come again, you shall behold me worthier, G.o.d willing. I shall think of you as resting under the very shadow of heaven, and no ill, I am sure, will betide you.
Farewell, and G.o.d will help you."
CHAPTER x.x.x.
"AND THE SEA SHALL GIVE UP ITS DEAD."
The summer at Windsor was an unprecedently hot one. No rain in July, no rain in August, and September"s sun was shining fiercely down upon parched earth, dried up rivers, panting animals, and complaining men.
There would be no wheat, no corn; potatoes were dwarfed, and vegetables literally dried and hardened. Gra.s.s would be light, and cattle would be starved, if not first choked with thirst. The heavens were as bra.s.s, the fiery atmosphere like that of a furnace. Was there about to be a general conflagration, "when the earth and the heavens should be rolled together as a scroll?"
The great Mississippi was never so low. Inquiring urchins made explorations up and down the dried banks with all the enthusiasm of explorers of the Nile. Even the women of Windsor proposed a bold feat.
This was none other than in a body to ford the Mississippi. It would be something worth telling of, when, after some flood, the river should widen to the s.p.a.ce of a mile.
Accordingly, old calico wrappers were brought into requisition, and a small army of women stood upon the sh.o.r.es. You might have thought from the voices of fear, hesitation, reproach, and encouragement, another Red Sea was before them, and behind them a Pharaoh"s host. All the women of Windsor were not engaged in this expedition. Some were milking cows, and some were putting dear little children to sleep; some were preparing late suppers for dilatory husbands, and not a few were gathered together in knots, discussing the impropriety and scandal of such a bold proceeding.
Our heroine at Vine Cottage, entirely unaware of the movement, was enjoying the twilight in playing soft airs upon the piano.
To one uninformed, a pow-wow of Indians might have been supposed to be going on. There were shrieks and wails, and screams of laughter, and cries of terror. There were threatenings, scoldings, and coaxings. Were all the grammars in the world made up of interjections they could scarcely have contained the list that rent the air, between the two Mississippi sh.o.r.es, upon that eventful night. The heavens were still above, though they might have been supposed to have disappeared entirely, so loudly and fervently were they invoked.
"Why, it is enough to raise the dead," exclaimed a solitary traveler, a stranger in town, perambulating a neighboring bluff.
As the vociferating army neared the opposite sh.o.r.e, there was a momentary silence; that breathless silence which precedes the storm.
Then uprose such a terrific scream, such a commingled shout of horror, as only frightened women can give vent to. This brought men, women and children in throngs to the scene. Some leaped into boats, some walked in to the rescue. The majority awaited ash.o.r.e the unfolding of events.
Mrs. Sharp had caught her foot in something as she was about to ascend the opposite bank. In attempting to save herself, she fell with her hands upon the soggy substance that had intercepted her. She was a thorough-going woman, and determined to ascertain what lay like a log in her path, the water scarcely covering it. She prevailed upon two or three to a.s.sist her in dragging it upward partially to the dim light--when lo! within a saturated, slimy bed-comforter was a human form! It was brought across to Windsor, officials summoned, and, despite decomposition and fearful change, recognized to be the remains of Thornton Rush! There was great sensation, and a faint revival of whispers about his having been spirited away to his death by Popish emissaries; but these soon died, for want of breath, as the Irishman would say.
The death of Mr. Rush was, by the majority, accounted for naturally. In his delirium he had strayed he knew not whither. He had grasped the heavy quilt tightly around him, which, held firmer in the clasp of the dead, had filled with water, and prevented the body from rising.
It seemed unaccountable that when the river was dragged it should not have been discovered: are not mysteries, however, every day transpiring before our eyes, about which we marvel in vain?