For a time Blue Dick seemed stunned by the startling revelation. And equally so she, whose wrist he still held in angry clasp. It was a tale strange and new to both of them.
But the asseverations of the old negress had in them the earnestness of truth; more so at such a moment. And along with this were some gleams of light, derived from an indefinite source—instincts or dreams—perhaps some whisperings over the cradle—that served to confirm her statement.
Revolting as was the thought of such a relationship to the delicate sensibilities of the young lady, she did not attempt to deny it. Perhaps it might be the means of saving her brother and herself; and, for the first time, she turned her eyes toward the face of Blue Dick in a glance of appeal.
It fell in sudden disappointment. There was no mercy there—no look of a brother! On the contrary, the countenance of the mulatto—always marked by a harsh, sinister expression—seemed now more merciless than ever. His eyes were absolutely dancing with a demoniac triumph.
“Sister!” he cried, at length, sarcastically hissing the word through his teeth. “A sweet sister! she who all my early life has been but my tyrant mistress! What if we are from the same father? Our mothers were different, and I am the son of my mother. A dear father, indeed, who taught me but to toil for him! And that an affectionate brother!”—here he pointed to Blount, who, restored to his fastenings, lay stretched on the grass—“who only delighted in torturing me; who ruined my love—my life! Sweet sister, indeed! you, who treated me as a menial and slave! Now shall you be mine! You shall sweep out my tent, wait upon my Indian wife, work for her, slave for her, as I have done for you. Come on, Miss Clara Blackadder!”
Freshly grasping the young lady’s wrist, he recommenced dragging her across the camp-ground.
An involuntary murmur of disapprobation rose from the different groups of captives. During their long, toilsome journey across the plains, Clara Blackadder had won the good wishes of all—not only by her grace and beauty, but for many kindnesses shown to her travelling companions, black as well as white. And when they now saw her in the clutch of the unnatural monster, being led, as they supposed, to the terrible torture some of them had already experienced, one and all uttered exclamations against it. They were not certain that such was the torture intended by the spiteful renegade; they only guessed it, by the direction in which he was conducting her.
Whatever might have been his purpose, it was prevented.
With a spring as if all the energies of youth had been restored to her shrivelled frame, the old nurse rushed upon him; and clutching his throat in her long bony fingers, caused him to let go his hold.
He turned upon her like an enraged tiger, and, after a short struggle, ending with a blow from his strong arm, old Nan fell flat upon the earth.