The shadow between them; $b or, A blighted name — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The shadow between them; $b or, A blighted name
John Stuart Mill · en
There at his feet lay his last male descendant, slain by the hand of
the enemy of his house.
One long, piercing cry came from his quavering lips, and then his stern
manhood quickly reasserted itself, and his blood leaped again through
his veins with the fire of youth.
Rising quickly to his feet, he pointed with abhorrence at the young
doctor’s body where it lay with its feet to Terry’s, as they had fallen
apart, sinking with their mortal wounds.
His eyes gleamed with anger and his voice was tense with rage as he
shouted hoarsely:
“Send for them to take it away before I drag the dastard out with my
own hands and spurn his body into the road.”
“Come away, sir, into your own room, and the body shall be removed
directly,” one of the young men said, leading him gently away.
Meanwhile Miss Tabitha, even in that tragic moment, could not forget
that shocking dishabille of poor, distracted Eva, and, pushing her
behind a screen, she began to help her to huddle on her clothes.
“A pretty sight you look, Eva Somerville, and all these men about, and
more coming, for o’ course the crowner will be here directly to sit on
the corpses! Here, pull on your stockings an’ shoes! You can’t? Lawk
a-massy, stick out your foot an’ I’ll help you. There, now, stand up
an’ let me get your clo’es on! Why, you can’t help yourself no more
than a baby. An’ I vow to gracious I wouldn’t tech you with a ten-foot
pole only to make you look decent before us other decent females. I
never did take to you, Eva Somerville, an’ I never expected no good of
you! Set down there, now, in that cheer, and don’t go to swooning, as I
see you’re like to do.”
She snatched a glass of water and flung it square in the girl’s face,
bringing her back to consciousness with a strangling gasp.
At that moment Gran’ther Groves, still in his long red flannel bedgown,
his gray locks awry like one distraught, his aged face purple with
rage, reëntered the room and hobbled across it till he stood in front
of Eva, crying out to her in terrible wrath:
“I jest natchelly ought to kill you, gal, same as Terry killed your
vile partner in shame!”
“Oh, gran’ther, I am innocent!” little Eva answered, in wild
remonstrance.
But, heedless of her passionate protest, the half-crazed old man began
to pour out the most scathing denunciation, drawing every one around to
listen except the two whose ears were dulled in death.
In a lull of his passionate accusations she cried frantically:
“Oh, stop and let me speak, dear, dear gran’ther! Do not believe your
little Eva the vile thing you say! No, no, if I were, I would bare my
breast for your deathblow! I tell you, there was some fatal mistake. If
Terry had but waited a moment, Doctor Ludington would have explained
all to him!”
“Perhaps you can explain it!” the angry old man sneered incredulously.