Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-11-21
CHAPTER XVI.
a FIGHT FOR LIFE
What q night that was!

a flGhI TUX LIFE
What a night that was!
As 1 recall it now it was a shifting
panorama of action and tumult. There
were ringing of bells, rousing of serv-
ants, lighting of fires, preparation Of
baths and cordials and hurried sum-
mons of the physician from the neigh
boring town, who sat by the bed till day.
break tanning the feeble fame of life
which threatened TO go out forever.
"She has been dosed and drugged so
long" DIR. Spencer said, that 1 greatly
fear it will not be possible to save her.
However, I'm going to make fight for
the poor lady's life"
Oh, it was pitiful to see her, mere
wreck of herself, helpless as = baby, at
times moaning in distress Al My say
ing feebly over and over, "Ho:Ac, homel"
Her arms We're one mass of scars. The
doctor examined them .gravely. Here
is where they have injected their poi
son" he said. Its marvel she is alive.
This has been going on for two years.
She has been starved and drugged.
cannot understand why they didn't kill
her outright. 1t would have been inf
nitely more humane"
DO You see?' said Maurice to Colonel
Marchmont, lifting one of the thin arms
and pointing to a mark, DO you see,
Jernyn? There is the little tattoo mark
gave her when boy. l had tattooed
my hand here" and he showed the place,
''and when she saw it she begged should
tattoo her arm. Then nothing would
do but Sidonie must have one too. How
ever, l made a different mark on that
devil
Don't, my dear boy" said the colonel
gently. Don't speak about her now"
The scene in the drawing room when
Maurice forcibly tore back the sleeve Of
our hostess suddenly came to me. Iknew
now for what he was looking.
But who and what was this other
woman-this Sidonie, who was the exact
counterpart of Portia, and who had for
some wicked reason brought all this mis-
cry on happy home?
Beyond this mention of her, she seemed
to be forgotten that night. l knew she
was locked in her room and that Maui
rice had the key which would release
her. What would be done with her? If
Portia were TO die, she that beautiful,
graceful, accomplished creature would
be her murderer!
recalled many things-the wonder
full instinct which had caused Colonel
Marchmont to despise and hold at arms
length this pretender to his affections
oh, love after all has a language of its
own-the wiles of this sorceress, this
priestess of voodooism, had never lured
him from the memory of n gentle, pure
womanhood. Thank God, he had been
true to his ideal.
And little Daphne's piteous cry, "Oh.
mamma, mamma" required to me. Had
she, too, in some occult fashion caught
the intimation from her guardian angel
that this woman was not her mother?
l reCollected my own unaccountable
distrust of this creature Why had l
not persisted in following up those vague
suspicious which so tormented me on
my arrival: Ii was maddening to think
that while we were idly eating and
drinking and dawdling life away that
Portia was being slowly tortured TO
death in that place of horrors.
Just before dawn. at the hour when
the first faint rays of light crept like
phantoms across the floor, the sufferer
opened her eyes and looked straight into
those of her husband. Though she did
not speak, it was evident that she rec
ognized him, for faint smile lighted up
the wan face.
That is good" said the doctor. She
knows you, colonel. Now, let every
body. save the nurse, get out. Go and
get some sleep, You people. will watch
until noon. 1 do not wish to leave her"
We obeyed instructions and left the
sick chamber. At the head of the stairs
Colonel Marchmont paused and said:
"You can act now, Maurice. Only
there must be no scene, no outcry. Get
her out of the house and don't let me
see her, for l would not be responsible
for what might do"
Then he hurried into his room and
shut and locked the door behind him.
What followed seems too awful to
tell. have dim remembrance of see
ing Jake and George come up the stairs;
of Maurice's unlocking the door of the
room in which the woman was impris-
oned; of seeing them bring her out, her
hair disheveled, her dress torn, her hands
chained and a white bandage over her
mouth to prevent her screaming. The
men half dragged, half carried her down
the stairs.
I supposed they were taking her to
Jail, and ran to the window to see them
depart. But there was no carriage wait
ing. The servants stood about in little
groups whispering in terror. All drew
back when the men appeared with their
prisoner. What were they about to do?
Jake waved the negroes out of his way,
and with Georges assistance carried the
half insensible creature down the path
leading toward the swamp.
What is it, cried, turning wildly
to Maurice. What are they going to
do with her? Why are they going that
way?'
They are taking her where she be-
longs-to the swamp" he said indiffer-
| emily.
ITO the swamp! To the swamp l
stammered. But why? OF course she
is very wicked woman and n criminal.
But why do you not send her to Jail? 1t
would be more merciful, and, besides,
what right have You to put her there?
Will it not make more trouble: And
then, too, will she not escape?'
''She will not escape" said Maurice
confidently. Shall tell you her fate?
| You talk of mercy. Has she shown any?
| She is banished to that foul hut in which
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