She watched his form as he walked up the slope, and her heart was filled with pity.

"Poor Ross," she said, "oh, I am so sorry for him! A hopeless love is a sad thing indeed, but how useless to mourn for a lost hope. There is much brightness in life for him, if he will accept it. I hope he will."

"Well, I jest do wonder if he will come," said Mrs. Morris, looking down the road. "Dear me, I don't hardly know how to act if he does come. I wonder what he'll say to me first. Perhaps, after all, he don't mean nothin', but, la me, I don't believe he'd ever looked at me that way if he hadn't. I don't see how Miss Elsworth can think they hain't no use for a man about the house; why, la me, I don't look no way, but what I see where a man would come handy. Oh, as sure as the world there he comes. Oh, oh, what'll I ever say first? I wonder if he'll talk the way Reuben did when he come a-courtin' me. If he does I'll know better what to say."

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

A SAD EVENT.

Miss Elsworth stepped out of the door one afternoon and saw Bessie climbing cautiously along the ledge of rocks across the ravine. Her dark, luxuriant hair was floating like a dusky cloud about her shoulders, and there was a burning light in her dark blue eyes, and a crimson spot on either cheek.

"Bessie, Bessie," Miss Elsworth called, "come down."

"Hush," said Bessie, raising a warning finger. "If you make a loud noise I'll kill you; you know, don't you?"

"Yes, I know," said Blanche, with a fear that something was wrong.

Bessie crept cautiously up the rocks, and seating herself she drew from her pocket her little pistol, and fired at what Miss Elsworth supposed to be an imaginary object.

"Ha, ha," laughed Bessie, as a shrill cry rent the air, followed by a deep groan as of some one in great distress.

Miss Elsworth stood for a moment as one frozen with terror.

"Oh, Bessie, Bessie, what have you done?" she asked, in a voice full of pity. "Have you killed your brother?"

"No, no," said Bessie, stepping cautiously down, "but I told you I meant some day to take his head off, and now I have done it. You see you don't understand all these things, but you can come with me if you want to see. He is just there behind that tree, that is where he fell.

He did not see me, but I saw him just in time. Ha, ha, ha! Yes, yes, I'm coming; don't you see me? Don't you know Bessie?"

Miss Elsworth followed Bessie, and looking down by a cl.u.s.ter of bushes, saw a man, wounded and bleeding. Miss Elsworth stooped, and, lifting the hat which had fallen over his face, she uttered a cry almost as full of agony as those uttered by the man who had been wounded.

"Oh, Bessie, what have you done?" she asked, while her face grew deathly white. "Bessie, you have killed----"

"Yes, I know I killed him," said Bessie, as she stooped down and smoothed back the silken hair, and pressed her lips to those of the suffering man.

"You know I told you I would."

"You have done a very wicked act, Bessie."

"Have I?"

"Yes, see the poor man can scarcely speak, and he wants to talk to you."

"Well, he is my lover, and he can talk if he wants to; but I won't believe him. But don't you scold, for I told you I would take his head off. Didn't he kill me once--me and my baby? Why, yes, he just ground me down to the dust."

The man's pale lips moved, and regaining consciousness, he said: "I was just coming back to look at you once more; I wanted to find you again, and----"

"There, don't lie any more. You know you swore that you loved me once, but I don't believe a word you say."

"Bessie," said the man, raising his handsome head, "what made you do this if you loved me?"

Miss Elsworth looked at the man in surprise. It was now quite evident that he did not exactly understand the condition of Bessie's mind.

"Why, sir," she said, "do you not see that Bessie is insane."

"Good G.o.d, is that so?" said the man.

"Yes, and she has been so since she was cruelly deserted by her lover."

"Who was her lover?"

"Do you not know?" Blanche Elsworth asked, trying to stop the flow of blood that came from his side.

"Who did she say it was?" he asked, trying to appear unconcerned.

"Please do not talk any more," said Blanche

"Why not?"

"Because you are badly wounded, and I must go and find some one to help me take you to the house."

"To whose house--not Bessie's?"

"No, to mine."

"Who are you? Allow me to ask."

"Never mind who I am. I shall try to help you; so be quiet."

"You are not going to leave that crazy girl, are you? She will shoot me again," he said, looking at Bessie.

"Bessie, will you come with me?" said Blanche.

"Indeed, I will not! You can just leave me with my darling. Oh, I knew he would come some day. What made you wait so long? Why didn't you come and see--oh, well, never mind about that, you can never, never see it."

"Bessie, will you come with me?"

"No, Miss Robin, I won't--go on," said Bessie, with a fierce look in her eyes.

Blanche knew that to urge Bessie would be useless, so she hurried away, although she feared that Bessie would repeat the action of a few moments before; but there was nothing to do but to leave her and trust to the result. Her first act was to find Ross and make him acquainted with the affair, and ask his a.s.sistance in removing him to her house.

Mrs. Morris said that she "wan't no coward, but she guessed she'd go up to t'other house, if Eliza and Eunice would take her place," which they willingly consented to do.

The wounded man was carried to the old house and placed in a comfortable bed and a physician sent for. Ross stood for a moment looking at the wounded man, and then his own face became colorless and his lips white and trembling.