A Good Fight 10


Where is the woman that cannot act a part? Where is she who will not do it, and do it well, to save the man she loves. Nature on these great occasions comes to the aid of the simplest of the sex, and teaches her to throw dust in Solomon’s eyes.

The men had no sooner retired than Margaret stepped out of bed and opened the long chest on which she had been lying down in her skirt and petticoat and stockings, and night-dress over all; and put the lid, bed-clothes and all, against the wall: then glided to the door and listened. The footsteps died away through her father’s room, and down the stairs.

Now in that chest there was a peculiarity that it was almost impossible for a stranger to detect. A part of the boarding of the room had been broken, and Gerard being applied to make it look neater, and being short of materials, had ingeniously sawed away a space sufficient just to admit Margaret’s soi-disant bed, and with the materials thus acquired he had repaired the whole room.

As for the bed or chest it really rested on the rafters a foot below the boards. Consequently it was full two feet deep, though it looked scarce one.

All was quiet. Margaret kneeled and gave thanks to Heaven. Then she glided from the door, and leaned over the chest, and whispered tenderly, “Gerard!”
Gerard did not reply.

She then whispered, a little louder, “Gerard, all is safe, thank Heaven! You may rise; but, oh! be cautious!” Gerard made no reply.

She laid her hand upon his shoulder — “Gerard!” No reply.

“Oh! what is this?” she cried, and her hands ran wildly over his face and his bosom. She took him by the shoulders; she shook him; she lifted him; but he escaped from her trembling hands, and fell back, not like a man but like a body. A great dread fell on her. The lid had been down.

She had lain upon it. The men had been some time in the room. With all the strength of frenzy, she tore him out of the chest. She bore him in her arms to the window. She dashed the window open. The sweet air came in. She laid him in it and in the moonlight. His face was the colour of ashes, his body was all limp and motionless. She felt his heart. Horror! it was as still as the rest! Horror of horrors! she had stifled him with her own body!

The mind cannot all at once believe so great and sudden and strange a calamity. Gerard, who had got alive into that chest scarce five minutes ago, how could he be dead?

She called him by all the endearing names that heart could think, or tongue could frame. She kissed him and fondled him and coaxed him and implored him to speak to her.

No answer to words of love, such as she had never uttered to him before, nor thought she could utter. Then the poor creature, trembling all over, began to say over that white face little foolish things that were at once terrible and pitiable.

“Oh, Gerard! I am very sorry you are dead! I am very sorry I have killed you! Forgive me for not letting the men take you, it would have been better than this! Oh, Gerard! I am very, very sorry for what I have done!” Then she began suddenly to rave. “No! no! such things can’t be, or there is no God! It is monstrous! How can my Gerard be dead? How can I have killed my Gerard? I love him! Oh, God! you know how I love him! He does not. I never told him. If he knew my heart, he would speak to me, he would not be so deaf to his poor Margaret. It is all a trick to make me cry out and betray him: but, no, I love him too well for that. I’ll choke first.”

And she seized her own throat, to check her wild desire to scream in her terror and anguish.

“If he would but say one word. Oh, Gerard! don’t die without a word. Have mercy on me and scold me! but speak to me: if you are angry with me, scold me! curse me! I deserve it: the idiot that killed the man she loved better than herself. Ah! I am a murderess. The worst in all the world. Help, help! I have murdered him. Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!”

She tore her hair, and uttered shriek after shriek so wild, so piercing, they fell like a knell upon the ears of Dierich Brower and his men. All started to their feet, and looked at one another.


Martin Wittenhaaoen standing at the foot of the stairs with his arrow drawn nearly to the head, and his knife behind him, was struck with amazement to see the men come back without Gerard: he lowered his bow, and looked open mouthed at them. They, for their part, were equally surprised at the attitude they had caught him in.

“Why, mates, was the old fellow making ready to shoot one of us?”

“Stuff!” said Martin, recovering his stolid composure, “I was but trying my new string. There, I’ll unstring my bow, if you think that.”

“Humph!” said Dierich, suspiciously, “there is something more in you than I understand: put a log on, and let us dry our hides a bit, ere we go.”

A blazing fire was soon made, and the men gathered round it, and their clothes and long hair were soon smoking from the cheerful blaze. Then it was that the shrieks were heard in Margaret’s room. They all started up, and one of them seized the candle, and ran up the steps that led to the bed-rooms.

Martin rose hastily, too, and being confused by these sudden screams, and apprehending danger from the man’s curiosity, tried to prevent him from going there.

At this Dierich threw his arms round him from behind, and called on the others to keep him. The man that had the candle got clear away, and all the rest fell upon Martin, and after a long and fierce struggle, in the course of which they were more than once all rolling on the floor, with Martin in the middle, they succeeded in mastering the old Samson, and binding him hand and foot with a rope they had brought for Gerard.

“That is a good job,” said Dierich, pointing; “our lives weren’t safe while this old fellow’s four bones were free. He makes me think Gerard is hereabouts, for all we can’t find him. Hallo, mates! Jorian Ketel’s a long time in that girl’s bed-room.”

The rude laugh caused by this remark, had hardly subsided, when hasty footsteps were heard running along over-head.

“Oh! here he comes, at last. Well, Jorian, what is to do now?”


About libros19blog

Central Florida
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