As she sunk upon her knees, and her pitiful cry of ‘Henri’ sounded on the air, De Courcelles, unable to restrain his feelings longer, burst open his prison door and rushed in upon them.
‘Yes,’ he exclaimed triumphantly, as he glared round upon the parents and husband of Maraquita, ‘she speaks the truth at last. I had sworn to have her life, in exchange for that of which she has robbed me; but she has avenged herself. Take me prisoner again, as soon as you like. I shall die contented, to know what her future life must be.’
‘Dey nebber take you!’ cried a shrill voice at the open casement, which was immediately followed by a shot, which brought Henri de Courcelles to the ground.
‘Jerusha!’ he muttered between his teeth as he fell, with the dark blood and froth bubbling from his lips.
Lizzie was at his side in a moment tearing away his shirt, and striving to stem the current of his life. But it was in vain. The overseer had met his fate at last, and was rapidly bleeding to death.
‘Henri,’ she cried, in a voice of distress, ‘I can do nothing for you! You are going to God! May He bless and forgive you.’
‘As—you—have—done,’ he gasped out, as his lifeless head fell from her arm.
Sir Russell Johnstone had stood by, stern and miserable, watching the pitiable sight, and listening to the confession which dashed all the brightness from his married life, but Maraquita and her parents had hidden themselves away, unable to bear such a strain upon their nervous systems. Hugh Norris seeing that all was over, came forward to take Lizzie in his arms; but she turned from him, and walked bravely into the midst of the mutineers. Their flaring torches fell full on her ashen face, and lighted up the large tears standing in her eyes; but she stood before them without one sign of fear, and her voice was loud and determined.
‘Are you satisfied now?’ she demanded boldly, ‘or are not two lives sufficient to gorge your lust for blood? Do you know what you have done? You say you love me, and would not harm a hair of my head, yet you have killed the man you knew was dear to me! You have made me risk my life in vain. Two days ago I walked into the Alligator Swamp alone, to find Henri de Courcelles, and save him from the gallows, and I brought him here, only to fall a victim to your barbarity. Was that love for me? And the poor baby too—the little innocent child that I was bringing up as my own, and that had never done you any harm, you must needs take that from me too. Now, what more do you want? Is it my own life? You may as well kill me as well as the rest. Perhaps I am not more worthy to live, in your estimation, than they were.’
At this harangue, the ringleaders of the mutiny drew back abashed. They had not calculated that in taking their revenge on Henri de Courcelles they would injure their ‘Missy Liz.’