Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 20, No. 33, November 1877Various
Science
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 20, No. 33, November 1877
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
"I was about to say, officer," calmly pursued Mr. Van Ness, "that this
lady is unknown to me except as a casual acquaintance. She may be a
princess. She may be a thief. That is for you to settle. As for me--"
And waving his white hands and shrugging his broad shoulders, he turned
away.
The princess looked after him steadily a moment, then she turned to the
men: "Are you going to see me hauled away to prison without a word? I am
a woman! An Englishwoman! This is American justice!" She lifted herself
again into her favorite attitude of malediction, shaking her fingers
against the air as if scattering curses.
"Good gracious!" cried Mr. Waring. "Why! why! Surely I have seen that
done before!--I say, judge! Don't you remember? The medium Combe? The
spirit--"
"Come!" said the officer gruffly. "We've had enough of this. Your
friends disown you, ma'am. I'll trouble you to step down to the hack--"
It was then that the poor princess gave the despairing shriek which Jane
had heard. Eluding the officer's clutch, she darted across the open
space and faced them, while she plunged her hand into her pocket and
drew out a vial full of a dark liquid. There was a cry of horror as she
put it to her lips, drained it and sank to the ground.
"Good God! she has taken poison!" cried the captain.
There were immediate shouts for a doctor, and frantic rushes out and
back again on the part of Buff and Dave and the young men, who wanted to
scatter the news, but were afraid something would happen while they were
gone. Mrs. Wilde came up to her. "She really is an impostor, then?"
holding out her trembling arms to take her.
"Oh, the worst kind! Dead-beat, confidence--as much lower as you can go.
Don't touch her, ma'am. You'd better take them young ladies away too.
This isn't the sort of thing for them to see."
"Certainly not," running off like a scared hen-partridge.--"Come, girls,
I will take you home at once. This is a phase of life not fit for you to
look into."
But she could not drive them farther than the porch, where they huddled,
pale, all talking at once, looking back and declaring it was as exciting
as any tragedy, and was the poor creature dead? and oh, to think they
had all called on her!
By this time Jane was on her knees and had the princess in her arms.
"Poor thing! poor thing!" she said. Her own heart was so bruised and
sore that she might have sobbed over this other woman if she had had
nothing else to do for her.
"Lay her down, miss, if you please. A doctor's been sent for. She's in
the hands of medicine and the law."
"Father, where is your patent stomach-pump?"
"The very thing, Jane!" dashing into the house.
"May the Lord have mercy on her soul!" said Waring.
"Mr. Waring, are you there? Help me to carry her. Into my room."
"Somewhere else! Not there!" exclaimed the judge.
"These proceedings are very irregular!" blustered the officer.
"Accordin' to New York law, the body shouldn't be touched until the
coroner arrives."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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