SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 15174, 13 December 1912, Page 4

SHORT STORY.

MARCUS THE OHATTEL.

BY MRS. TALBOT HUNTER.

".Anil ho mi Id : Darned bo Canaan, a nervant of servants shall ho bo to his brothcr.'j^^

"Morn Kit," said Eustace Poingdestre, lighting his cigar, "who is that lovely girl over thoro? and when did ehe como? ' Indolent. Mrs. Poiagdcstre looked across tlio verandah to tho gardens where a beautiful quadroon stood amid a, wealth of colour. }) "That is Dolores, my seamstress, dear, pho said listlessly, "Don't you remember? I bought her from Paquita Valdenas a short timo ago."

"Allto be sure! seen such beauty." "Oil, nonsense," said Mrs. Poingdestrc, stifling a yawn. "Dolores is well enough."

Well, I've never

Twelve months had elapsed, most of which had been spent by Eustace in hunting excursions in the far North-West, so ho remained ignorant of the momentous course of events at home. When' he once" more presented himself at Bellefontaine his mother received him with a. stern face. . _ , „ "As soon as you have dressed, Eustace, she said, "come to my room. I wish to speak with you." , An hour afterwards he entered his mother's boudoir. She was standing opposite the door, a regal figure in her long sweeping skirts, holding an infant in her arms. "Jupiter!" cried Eustace. "What's that?" . "Your son!" replied the lady, .looking intently at him. " The child's mother, Dolores, my seamstress, who was my property, I have manumitted. The child himself in your property! You are at once his father and his owner. What I demand of you is that you manumit him at once. Are you willing?" "Perfectly willing," replied Eustace with a smile that provoked a burning rejoinder from his mother. "Very well." she said haughtily. "Ihe child has been named Marcus. You will please have the manumission document made out at once, for at present lie is simply Marcus, the chattel of a Lousianian gentleman, and as salable in No Orleans as molasses or tobacco "You shall have the paper to-morrow, madame," said Eustace briefly. "Is that all?" "That is all?", coldly replied the lady. "I intend to provide for the boy's education, and while I live he and his mother will have a home beneath this roof." Not long after this episode Eustace Poingdestre brought home his bride—a beautiful Baltimore —and settled down to the systematic make-believe hard work of a Louisana planter. By and by a son was born to Eustace, and then the wife who knew from ; the beginning the story of her husband's sin hated the quadroon and her son more vindictively than ever. . However, the boy, as she knew, had been manumitted by his father, and was safe in the protection of her mother-in-law while she lived, so Adele Poingdestre could do no more than cultivate in the heart of her son a hatred of his half-bro-ther who had been born in the shadow of Canaan's doom. So they grew up, divided in their lives though springing from one parent stock "A little more than kin and less than kin." One morning Eustace Poingdestre was found dead—he had passed away in sleep. His will had long been madean annuity to his widow, and the whole of his property, goods and chattels (human and otherwise) to his beloved son, Lucius Poingdestre. It was an irreparable wound to the proud heart of Marcus that his father had not even mentioned his existence —indeed but for the manumission document he might have been amongst the chattels! Ho felt it the more that he had formed a deep attachment to Lilian Calliver, a beautiful girl who was visiting Mrs. Poingdestre. Lucius also loved Lilian with all the htrength of an ill-trained fiery nature, and so the life-long feud between the halfbrothers culminated in the supreme antagonism born of rivalry' in love. When Lilian went back to her homo in Ohio, Marcus was the favoured suitor. Suddenly Mrs. Poingdestre fell sick, and the hopes of Mrs. Eustace rose correspondingly. She more than surmised that the bulk of her mother-in-law's fortune would descend by request to the unacknowledged son ; the will of course was in the hands of the family lawyer, but the vindictive woman knew that if she could onlv gain possession of the manumission of "Marcus she would be sure of both revenge and money, therefore one afternoon when her mother-in-law slept, she obtained the document from her private desk, and immediately burnt it to ashes. "I'm quits now with that quadroon wench," she muttered, as she watched it burn to a blackened rag, "she wouldn't have parted with that for the state of Louisana '' At the end of the week Mrs. Poingdestre died, and, on the will being read, consummate was the mortification of the plotters to learn that her property was bequeathed— to Marcus, but to liis mother, Dolores, in trust for him. Mrs. Eustace was transported with lage when she discovered that she had been outwitted. Then a thrill of triumph elated her, in the thought that Marcus, for whose futuro benefit this will had been devised, was by her own act, in the eyes of the law, the slave and chattel of her son, and as such could inherit 110 property. That same night Lucius and Marcus • Poingdestre confronted each other like the two elder sons of Adam. "Where is my manumission?" demanded Marcus in anominously calm and determined tone. Lucius laughed viciously. "The document's destroyed,, my dandy nigger, I watched it burn to ashes, and jou're now my property you half-breed trash." Like lightning the octoroon sprang ,at him, and felled him to the ground.

It was twilight in the swamp to which Marcus the chattel had fled for concealment, hoping that when a few days had passed he might finally make his escape to Sandusky. ! Noxious insects tormented him, and more noxious reptiles swarmed around him, but he endured the former and destroyed the latter, thinking them, even then, less loathsome than his own species. Suddenly his —strung to their finest tension by the ghastly silence 'and the apprehension of capture—caught- a far-away faint sound, never to bo forgotten by one who has once heard it— high-pitched sosenents wail, like a long-drawn note of music. The sound made Marcus Poingdestrc's bones to shake, and he realised the terribly sublimo imago of the Temanite, — hair of his flesh stood up." Bloodhounds! He had not speculated on this appalling possibility. He had supposed that after season of'hiding the affair would blow over and his brother would leave him to the hazardous prospect of making his escape. He had never calculated on being hunted like a wild bea-m by his father's son, nor had the practice ever been favoured by r Foingcleetre in any emergency. 1 He stood beside a hollow tree-stump where his nights had been passed. On his flight Irom home he had secured his revolver and —the _ latter was necessary as a protection against the attacks of' animals when out in the woods. The report of firearms he wished to avoid, unless —

Lucius Poingdestre and two of his neighbours attended by half a dozen hands as torchbearers were following, as well as the difficulties of the ground would admit, a couple of Cuban' bloodhounds, when one of them suddenly fell—shot dead. Marcus through a fissure in the bark had picked him off as he struck tho direct'trail, and now turning the handle of his bowio towards his throat, stepped from his ambush to face the other hound which by instinct leapt at him It instantly fell, streaming with blood. The fugitive who novj felt himself secure, rose and con-

fronted his enemy, who seemed to quail before his glittering eye. "Well, brother Lucius." Ho held up his dripping blade. "Come down, 3011 coward, and try conclusions! You'll have to fight for mo, —"

"Marcus! Marcus!", protested Lucius._ "I have not come hero to harm a hair of your head, but to beg you to return to Bellefontaine! I apologise for what I said. See, —here is your manumission, paper—" ''My manumission?" repeated the octoroon in amazement. "You said it was destroyed?" "That was a fact, Marcus. It was destroyed—in a fit of rage— am sorry. I seek you in reparation. «Here is the necessary instrument which insures your free—mado out and signed by ine—these gentlemen are witnesses." "I see!" interrupted Marcus derisively. "You are so resolute in your benevolence that you absolutely hunt mo like a wild beast in order to manumit me! Do you think me a fool?"

"I swear to you," cried Lucius, "that you are free, and these gentlemen have witnessed—*"

"That's so—that's so," interrupted the two friends.

Marcus pondered for a. moment. He was not in • any way deluded by his brother's professions of good-will which were transparently insincere ; but the document, being all the restitution that Lucius; could make, was his right, and ho was now inspired by anxiety to ascertain what marvel had turned the current of animosity in his two deadly foes. "Give me the paper," he said curtly, "and ride back. You will see me tonight."

"Lucius Poingdestre," said Marqus in a cold bitter tone, at) he stood in his brother's room that night, "I am not such a fool as to be guiled by any hollow professions of yours in restoring what you committed a crime to steal. You require some service at my hands —what is its nature?" "Will' you sign this paper?" asked Lucius nervously, "a simple statement that you have been legally freed, and are entirely your own master?" "Willingly," replied Marcus in some surprise. Ho wrote a few words rapidly and signed his name. "What more?" "Nothing," answered Lucius, as vrith a smile of triumph he read the paper and placed it in his pocket book. "But bei fore you leave me, I want you to read this." [ He extended an open letter, and Marcus, I stung by his brother's reviving insolence, I took it from him, and read like one petrified:—

"Dear Lucius, f "I have heard of the terrible calamity that has overtaken Marcus, and am distracted with sorrow. What I can do to save him from such a fate I will do. You have entreated me to consent to our marriage. Search for your brother by night and day till you have found him, Testore him to liberty, amd I will be your wife. —Lilian Caijjver."

The paper fluttered from the hand of Marcus, and ho staggered from the room. Outside, the octoroon, with wild eyes, looked up to the everlasting stars, and cursed the memory of that father whose sin made him ari Ishmael. "Cursed be Canaan, a servant of servants shall he be to his brother."