All was clear! Amy
had come, and died defending her husband from his father! She put her
strong arms round the dainty little figure, and lifted it like a seaweed
hanging limp, its long wet hair continuing the hang of the body and
helpless head. Hester gave a great sob. Was this what Amy's lovely brave
womanhood had brought her to! What creatures men were! As the thought
passed through her, she saw on Amy's neck a frightful upswollen wale.
She looked at her father. There was the whip in his hand! "Oh, papa!"
she screamed, and dropped her eyes for shame: she could not look him in
the face--not for his shame, but for her shame through him. And as she
dropped them she saw the terrified face of Cornelius open its eyes.
"Oh, Corney!" said Hester, in the tone of an accusing angel, and ran
with her from the room.
The mother darted to her son.
But the wrath of the father rose afresh at sight of her "infatuation."
"Let the hound lie!" he said, and stepped between. "What right has he to
walk the earth like a man! He is but fit to go on all fours--Ha! ha!" he
went on, laughing wildly, "I begin to believe in the transmigration of
souls! I shall one day see that son of yours running about the place a
mangy mongrel!"
"You've killed him, Gerald!--your own son!" said the mother, with a
cold, still voice.
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