The Four Canadian Highwaymen Part 8

'Eternal heaven, he is not the eloquent minister who preaches every other Sunday at the Don?'

'The very same.'

'Why, I have gone there myself and heard him, attracted by his great repute. Yes, now that I come to reflect, this miscreant who went out this morning and the preacher to whom I listened with such rapt attention, are one and the same man.'

'I hope that you were made better by his discourse,' The Lifter said.

'And pray,' our hero inquired, 'what became of the poor minister, the real Mr. Jonas?'

'Oh they kept him confined for several months, and he wasted away past beleiveen. n.o.body here took to him like. At last the new Mr.

Jonas said to him one morneen:

'"Mr. Jonas that was, pray come down with me to the side of the lake that we may converse. I like best to contemplate the might of G.o.d through the agitasheen of the waters; and behold how the storm blows!"

'The poor, wasted Wesleyan went with him; but he never came back. An hour later the new Mr. Jonas returned; but he made no allusion to the real minister. We afterwards learnt that he had drowned him in the pond.'

'Great G.o.d, how horrible!'

'There now, you must not say anything against the habits and customs of the place. I will bid you good morneen.' Taking his rod and line the sleek desperado made his way up the stream; and our hero was left to horrible recollections. There was a noise among the parched leaves, and a moving of boughs. Then Nancy stood before him. She did not expect to find him here at the first turn, and she blushed deeply.

'I thought The Lifter was with you still. But I am glad that he has left you. We shall fish arid talk here. Has The Lifter told you anything about the history of the highwaymen?'

'Yes; I have heard enough to make me sick at heart.'

'Did he tell you about the Captain?'

'No.'

'Well the Captain is his own father; and the old woman is his grandmother. The robber chief's father was known as "Nick, the Highwayman," a terrible person whose name made everybody's heart beat fast fifty years ago.'

'But how came you here, Nancy? You look different from the people about you; your language is elegant and you appear as if you had been born well.'

Such words coming from _him_ embarra.s.sed the girl. But when the blood began to return to her cheek, she heaved a sigh so piteous and profound as to move every spring of pity in our hero's heart.

'Ah, yes; I knew purer, and more happy days,' she replied; 'but to commence my story is like opening again wounds that once have tortured. My father came to this country when I was an infant under the nurse's care, my mother having died a few hours after I was born.

My father had served for many years as an officer in the army; and he fought under Lord Wellington, as captain, at Waterloo. He had several connections in this Province, and shortly after his arrival here, through the influence of the governor, obtained the position of sheriff for York and the allied counties. He built a house in the heart of the wilderness, and cleared a farm, stocking it with horses, cows, oxen and sheep.

'I found it very lonely during the years of my early girlhood; and I used to go, despite my father's wishes, much away from home, spending a day with one friend, and a week with another. Nor was I choice at all in the selection of my acquaintances. My father frequently used to point out that as I was a lady by blood, I should seek the companions.h.i.+p of ladies only. But his remonstrances never exceeded words; and when I disobeyed, his orders he only sighed and wished my mother had been spared to watch my welfare.

'When I reached my seventeenth year, my friends were pleased to tell me that I was "a beauty," and they predicted that I would make sad work among the hearts of men. I always was a coquette, and to capture the affections of a man, I regarded as the greatest victory a woman could win. So I felt proud of my beauty and of my gifts, for I had a natural way of pleasing everybody, and resolved to make the most effective use of both. In the spring I looked to the sugar season; and wished for the dawn to break upon nights when the frost was keen.

When the sun shone out I knew that the maples would merrily drip; and when breakfast was ended, tying on my hat, I hurried away to join the sugar-makers. It made no matter who the persons were, and I used to be as happy and as much at home among the servants who did our domestic work, as among the high-bred folk who were my father's a.s.sociates. In the evening I attended candy parties among the rustics; and danced and played at games. The game that pleased me most was post-office; for there was plenty of kissing when playing that. But ah! I did like kissing! I always singled out the most popular man in the room for conquest; and no other girl had any chance whenever I entered the lists. And in spite of the preference which all men gave to me, I was popular, and no unkind words were uttered about me. If anybody hinted that I was a flirt, there was sure to be someone present who would promptly say:

'"Oh, she is not proud anyway. She is a _real_ lady; and she is not too good to mix with common folk."

'Well, in this way things went till I was eighteen. One evening, at this period, I attended a dance which wound up a "quilting bee," at a house about a mile distant from our own. All the rustics there were known to me; but there was a stranger present who at once attracted my attention. He had not the conscious air and movement of the country folk, but seemed as cool and as much at ease as if he were in the woods alone. He was handsome, too, and no sooner did I see him than I felt attracted by his splendid eyes.

'He asked the hostess to present him; and my heart throbbed wildly as he came up, bowed, and asked if he could have the pleasure of a dance. I readily consented, and before the party broke up I had given the stranger all my heart. I had never loved before, much as I had enjoyed men's company. Yet, although I gave my heart away, I had some undefinable dread of this dark, daring stranger, with the remorseless though beautiful eye, and that dare-devil step and bearing. Many times, again, we met; frequently in the meadows when the gloaming came; and often in my father's orchard.

'He declared in burning words his love for me and asked if I would become his wife. I consented. Then I bade him ask my father's sanction; but this he would not listen to. He said that our wedding would have to be kept a profound secret; and asked if I knew any clergyman upon whom I might rely to perform the ceremony. I knew that it would be useless to apply to the Episcopalian minister who preached once in the month in the district church, for he and my father were the closest friends. But Mr. Wyman, a Baptist missionary with whose family I was very intimate, contrary to my father's commands, I felt sure would not refuse. I had an interview and he consented to wed me to my darling.

'In a little while it was accomplished; and writing a letter wherein I stated what had happened, and telling how I loved my husband, I laid it upon my father's desk and went away. My husband took me into another county and provided for my comforts at a little rustic hotel.

I should have been supremely happy but that he was obliged to be the greater portion of his time absent upon business, concerning which he would not give me the faintest clue. I noticed, too, that he always came at night and went away before the dawn; and that he always seemed afraid of something and of everybody. Sometimes it ran through my mind that my husband's reason was not sound; a suspicion that some act of good judgment or clever reasoning on his part would soon dispel. But his long and frequent periods of absence soon became intolerable and I told him that take me with him he must; that I was prepared to share labour, and travel, and storm with him.

'"It you do not take me with you," I said one day, after he had been absent for a fortnight, "I shall go home again and never permit you to see me more!" I knew he understood that I would keep my word. He was very much agitated, and he said to me:

'"Since you desire it I will take you with me. When I take you there shall you see more of me than you have seen since we were wedded. But hearken to what I say: I would as lief carry you to the churchyard as to the abode which is mostly mine."

'I was wayward; and declared that I cared for nothing provided that I were with him. One evening he came and bade me to make ready. He had a pair of horses outside, and across the back of his own steed my clothes, which he stowed in sacks, were put. For hours and hours through the night we rode; and when the faintest tinge of silver showed itself in the east we were on the edge of this hateful swamp.

From that day to this I have never left it.'

'And what became of your husband?'

'Later on you shall hear. When I discovered who my husband's a.s.sociates were, what he himself _was_, shame, rage, and despair entered my heart. I uttered no complaint; but tearlessly resigned myself to my doom. The revelation, of course, instantly crushed the love out of my heart for the man who had betrayed me. Six months later he was shot by a farmer while committing a burglary. I shed no tears when I heard the tidings; nor have I enquired where they buried him.'

'Whence came your husband!'

'He was a gentleman and possessed many accomplishments. At the gaming table he squandered a handsome fortune; and he then committed forgery. He flew from justice and fell in with the gang of Markham Swamp.'

'And how has your lot been since then?' A flush came into her cheeks.

'Not indeed as you surmise. Oh, no; fallen though I, am by mating myself with murderers, I have in one respect naught that can bring reproach. Shortly after the death of my husband the robber chief offered to wed me. His offer I refused; and it has never since been made. To s.h.i.+eld myself from the advances of the rest I have permitted the odious ruffian Murfree to pay court to me. He is my constant persecutor; and he is persistently urging that I marry him, that vile man, Jud Sykes, to perform the ceremony. I promised, at the last, to wed him in May of the coming spring; but I shudder to think of his violence now that _you_ have come amongst us.'

'Why should that make any difference?'

'Oh, he is deadly jealous of you; because he thinks that I prefer you to himself. I fear him on your account as well as upon my own. Be a.s.sured that he will never forgive you for last evening. But,' she exclaimed, starting up, 'we had better try for some fish, or grandmother will suspect that I have been blabbing.'

'Why should we not go to the pond? The captain says that there are plenty of fishes there.'

'Do not speak of it,' she said with a shudder. 'Ah, those dark waters have many secrets. I am afraid to tell you; the very bushes about us seem to have ears.'

CHAPTER VII.

ROBBERS AT HOME AND ABROAD.

Do not be afraid,' Roland replied. 'I am certain that there is n.o.body within ear-shot.'

'Ah! well, these dark waters have closed over many an unhappy head, even since my entry into this h.e.l.l of crime.'

'The Lifter told me of the minister's fate.'

'I am thinking now of a young girl who was once like myself. She was the daughter of a wealthy farmer, beautiful and gifted. The horrible chief saw her one day riding past the swamp, and the sight of her filled him with a hideous desire. When next she rode that way he sprang out of the bush and seized her; and then dragged her almost lifeless to his lair. Ah, my G.o.d, how my heart went out in pity for the sweet young creature; but what could I do. The villain had his way; and all night long his victim wailed in a way to melt a heart of stone. They became alarmed at her constant crying; and one dreary night the old woman and Silent Poll dragged her to the edge of the pond. Tying a stone to her neck they threw her in. She lies there,'

pointing to a spot about twenty yards distant, near a steep part of the bank; 'and the water is three fathoms deep.

'But she is not the only victim. At a cla.s.s-leader's house Jud Sykes made the acquaintance of a beautiful girl of eighteen. On a certain Sat.u.r.day afternoon Marguerite, for that was the girl's name, set out, on foot; from her own house, to pa.s.s the Sunday with her aunt. The Rev. Mr. Jonas, who had spent the preceding night at her father's house, was aware of the visit; and he was posted in the bush close to the road-side as the girl came along.