Story 1--Chapter XXVII.
Hester’s Trials.
That evening, for the second time in obedience to a fierce demand from Lauré, Hester Pugh crept timidly on deck as soon as it was dark, and then repenting of her venture she was about to retreat when she felt a grasp like steel clasp her wrist, and in a low voice that made her shudder Lauré began to upbraid her, speaking passionately of his love, and telling her that it was his wish to win her by his tenderness, and not by force, while she in turn told him of his cruelties, and piteously pleaded for mercy.
“Yes,” he said at last, “the same mercy that you have had on me,” and flinging his arms round her he drew her shuddering form tightly to his breast.
“Make a sound,” he hissed in her ear, “and you slay Dutch Pugh, perhaps all here on board except my party. Be silent and you shall be my happy, loving wife, a princess in wealth and station.”
Maddened by her position, Hester struggled fiercely and lettered a stifled cry for help, and at the same moment almost there came the sound of approaching feet, followed by the sound of a blow; and half fainting, she found herself loosened from the arms that held her, and ran, how she never knew, to her cabin, to fall exhausted into Bessy Studwick’s arms.
“Lock the door, lock the door!” she panted, clinging tightly to her friend. “Oh Bessy, Bessy, if I could but die.”
Bessy locked the door, and returned wondering to Hester’s side.
“Hester, darling, your husband must be a perfect monster,” she cried, taking the sobbing woman in her arms.
“No, no, no,” wailed Hester, “he is all that is good and noble and true, but he thinks me wicked.”
“How dare he treat you like this, if he does!” cried Bessy, indignantly, as she smoothed Hester’s dishevelled hair.
“No, no, no, it was not he,” panted Hester.
“Not he?” exclaimed Bessy. “Do you mean to tell me that you have been on deck to meet some one else?”
“Yes, yes, and I am afraid; oh, I am afraid,” whispered Hester, with a shudder, as she clung more closely to her friend.
“Hester Pugh,” said Bessy, gravely; and her voice sounded cold and strange. “You must explain. I cannot wonder at poor Dutch’s conduct if you act like this.”
“Bessy!” wailed Hester, clinging convulsively to her, “don’t speak like that. Don’t you turn from me too. I am innocent; I am innocent. Oh that I were dead—that I were dead!”
“Hush, hush, hush,” whispered Bessy, trying to soothe her, for she was alarmed at the violence of her companion’s grief. “Tell me all about it, Hester. Am I not worthy of your confidence?”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” sobbed Hester, “but I dare not—I dare not tell you.”
“Dare not, Hester?”
“No, no, no,” she moaned. “Hush! listen! he is there. Bessy,” she whispered, clinging to her, “kill me if you will, but do not let him touch me again.”
As she whispered this appeal there came Dutch’s summons at the door, repeated again, with at last Bessy’s stern reply, and then silence.
“He is gone,” said Bessy at last, her own heart beating furiously with emotion.
“No, no, he is waiting,” wailed Hester, clinging to her; “he is always watching me.”
“Hester,” said Bessy, sternly, “who is that man?”
“I dare not tell you,” whispered Hester, with a shudder.
“As an old friend of your husband, I insist upon your telling me. This is cowardly weakness.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” wailed Hester, in her helpless misery; “but for his sake, I dare not tell you.”
“And you have not told your husband?”
“No.”
“Has he asked you?”
“Yes—yes,” sobbed Hester. “Oh, if I could but die!”
“Shame on you,” said Bessy. “Hester, I loved your husband very dearly once, and thought it all past now; and I have tried to love you for his sake. I will not be a partner in this mystery. To-morrow morning he shall hear all I know.”
“No, no, no,” cried Hester, in affright. “You must not tell. For heaven’s sake do not speak a word. Perhaps help may come.”
“I shall tell him,” said Bessy firmly.
“You do not know what you say,” wailed Hester, growing more pallid by the faint light of the lamp.
“I know a true honest man is being deceived, and that some scoundrel has frightened his weak young wife into silence, and—”
She said no more, for Hester rose horror-stricken and threw herself upon her knees, imploring her silence, and then, utterly overcome by her emotion, fainted dead away.
So long-continued was the swoon that Bessy was about to summon assistance when there was a faint sigh, and she revived.
“I was just going to send for Mr Meldon,” said Bessy, kindly, as she kissed her.
“That is not as you kissed me to-day, Bessy,” said Hester, sadly. “I would tell you gladly—all—all, if I only dared.”
She hid her face shudderingly, and then, clinging tightly to Bessy, they remained silent for what must have been quite a couple of hours, when Bessy, who had been dozing off to sleep, suddenly started up to find Hester awake and standing up in a listening attitude.
“What is it?” said Bessy, in alarm. “Hush! do you not hear?” whispered Hester, hoarsely. “He is maddened and has turned upon them. Oh Dutch, my husband! God—protect—”
She said no more, but stood with white face and starting eyes, listening, for at that moment there was the sound of struggling overhead, a hoarse shriek as of a man in mortal agony, a heavy fall—a rustling noise; and then, just by the little round window of their cabin, a heavy splash.