"I have seen him apply the poison," said the strange compound of womanly weakness and more than manly strength "seen him apply it, under the pretence of healing. I have seen the racking pains those fiendish practices have produced, and that no doctor's skill could combat. I have saved him—yes, I believe that I have saved him! You do not yet quite believe all the wickedness of this man! I see by your eyes that you do not! But you shall! See here!" and with the word she drew from the pocket of her dress the very bandage which she had exhibited in the office of Doctor LaTurque, and unrolled its dark loathsomeness—"here is the very poison that I saw him apply to Richard Crawford's heart, warning him not to let the doctors suspect it, because they would laugh at him for superstition. I have stolen this—yes, stolen it, from the spot where Richard Crawford had hidden it when he first began to be aware of the terrible truth; I have tested the powers of the unseen world to bear witness to his guilt; I have had this bandage examined by one of the ablest physicians in America, and it is poison—insidious, deadly poison. Egbert Crawford is not only a liar, but a murderer!"
"Help me! help me! oh, my God, what shall I do?" cried the poor girl, staggering as if about to fall, and only prevented by the quick arm of Josephine. "Do you know what you have been saying to me? My father is sinking fast—his will is made—Egbert Crawford, whom you call a murderer, is at this moment at my home—I am to marry him this very day!"
"You are to marry him, after this warning?" said Josephine Harris, looking at her with surprise not unmingled with horror. "Then you do not believe me, or you would marry a villain! You are not glad to know that the man you once loved, and who yet loves you so dearly, is true and loyal? I have indeed meddled where I was not wanted, and Richard Crawford—indeed—indeed she was not worthy of you!"
"Oh no, no! do not say so!" cried the young girl, changing so suddenly from the icy misery in which she had before stood, that Josephine Harris was literally bewildered. "I do love Richard Crawford. I have never known one happy day since I believed him unworthy to be my husband. I do believe you, dear, good girl, and I do thank you from my soul for all you have done to serve me! But oh, I am so miserable and so helpless! What shall I do? what shall I do?" Before she had ceased speaking, she had literally flung herself on her knees, embracing the bottom of Josephine's garment, clinging to her as if there was no dependence in the world beyond, and sobbing as if her heart would break.
Josephine Harris was melted in a moment, and nearly heart-broken herself, at the sight of the young girl's misery; but oh, what a gleam of joy underlay the sorrow! She was not misunderstood!—she had not been laboring in vain! Happy Joe—even in the midst of her pain and anxiety!
She raised the poor alarmed and sorrowing girl from her position of pleading and humiliation, took the chair that had just been vacated, and drew her down upon her own lap as if she had been a mother or an elder sister.
"What shall I do?" still repeated the troubled lips, through choking sobs. "I cannot escape now. It is too late. Poor Richard!—poor wronged Richard! I have deserved my fate, for being so untrue to him. What shall I do? What shall I do?"
"Do?" said Josephine Harris, smoothing down her hair and striving to comfort her at the same time that she braced up her nerves for what must follow. "Do? Why send Colonel Egbert Crawford packing—that is the first step."
"Oh, I cannot!" moaned the young girl. "It would kill my poor old father, to have any trouble in the house, now; and I must marry that man, though I have never loved him—and he, oh heavens!—a murderer!"
"Well, if you do marry him," said Joe, with something of her old manner, justifying the resumption of her pet name, "all that I can say, is, that I hope you will have a happy time of it!"