BATTLE AND MURDER.
A warm flood of lamplight streamed from the sitting room window out on the path as Ellison approached the house. He could make out Merton's voice inside raised in argument, and at intervals his wife's replying in tones that were as unnatural to her as they were terrible to him to hear. He drew into the shadow of the veranda and watched and listened. Esther was seated on the sofa near the fireplace, Merton was kneeling by her side holding her hand. She had turned her head away from him, but as it was in the direction of the place where her husband lay concealed, he could see that big tears were coursing down her cheeks. He ground his teeth with rage as he noticed the look upon Merton's face. For the first time he saw the man's real nature written in plain and unmistakable characters.
"Esther, you cannot mean it. You cannot be so cruel to me as to persist in your refusal. Think what you are to me, and think what you may be in the days before us. True, I have only known you a little while, but in that little while I have learned to love you as no other man could ever do. Body and soul I am yours, and you are mine. You love me—I know it—I am certain of it. Then you will not draw back now?"
She tried to rise but he held her down.
"Mr. Merton, I have told you before, and I tell you again, that I cannot, and will not listen to you. If you love me as you say, and I pray with my whole miserable heart that it may not be true, you will not drive me to desperation. Think of what you would make of my life, think of the awful wrong you would do to your friend, my husband."
"Your husband was only my friend before I learned to love you. Now he is my bitterest foe. No man can be a friend of mine who loves you. I must have your love, and I alone. Oh, Esther, remember what I said to you last night. You were not so cold and hard to me then!"
"I was the wickedest and weakest woman on earth to let you say it. You have a stronger will than I have, and you made me do it. It may make you understand something of how I feel towards you when I tell you that I have not ceased for a single instant to hate and upbraid myself for listening to it. Do you know, Mr. Merton, what you have done? Do you know that by listening to you for that one moment, I can never look my husband or child truthfully in the face again? And my husband trusted me so! Oh, God, have mercy upon me!"
"You say you cannot look your husband in the face again. No; but you shall look one in the face, Esther, who loves you ten thousand times more than your husband is even capable of loving you; one who worships the very ground you walk on, whose only wish is to be your humble servant to the death. Come, Esther, there is time yet, the mail-boat does not sail till midnight. You can pack a few things together, I know, in a minute or two. Do that, and let us escape to the township before your husband returns. By morning we shall be on board the steamer, and hundreds of miles away. We will leave her in Batavia. They will never trace us. You can surely have no fear of the future when you know that I will give you such love as man never gave to woman yet! Isn't it worth it, Esther?"
He passed one arm round her waist, and tried to draw her towards him. Again she attempted to rise, and again he forced her to retain her seat.
"Let me go, Mr. Merton, let me go! How dare you hold me like this? Let me go!"