"He is well--that is the old man--and will remain so if his daughter will be Luigi's bride," said the hard-hearted Captain.

"Oh, G.o.d be thanked--but my brother?"

"Heed not him, come away; here Pedro, Adrian, you were ever a lady's man, give this girl a swing on my horse, and take her down to the cave; she will do to drive away my hours of ennui."

L'Estrange stooped down and lifted her in his arms: taking her out of the carriage, he let her slowly fall down from his arms till her feet touched the ground; he turned her head away from the poles with their ghastly heads. His face betrayed convulsive emotions, as if he was planning something within.

"Why burden yourself with her, Capitano?" said Pedro, "there are fairer girls than she in Avellino; she will be a burden, and ever moping and crying, like your last Inglese girl."

"You speak sooth, d--n me if you don't. What do I want with the pigeon?

Wring her neck, and let's be off with our booty."

"Luigi," said L'Estrange, for by that name he had long learned to address him, "you have had your way with the old man--you have dipped your hands already in innocent blood--leave this girl to me, let her be my prize."

As he spoke these words poor Caroline had detected the cruel reality, and, giving a wild scream as she glanced towards the fatal poles and their dreadful burdens, again swooned and sunk down on the ground at her protector's feet.

"You chicken-hearted fool, you were ever a blockhead when women fell in your way, but this girl is my prize, and I'll do what I please with her.

See, the silly dove has gone and swooned again. Egad, you make a nice pair. Come, Adrian, away with such folly; run your dagger through her heart, and let's away, or we shall bring the whole country buzzing about our ears."

"Protect me, sir; oh, protect me," cried Caroline, awakening again from her swoon, and as if by instinct seeing in him a deliverer.

"I will--fear not, maiden."

"Can you?" roared the Captain. "Are you able? Ye powers! he dares me, his captain!"

"You are not my captain, I renounce my allegiance. I have long been sickened by your brutalities. I wanted but an excuse to shake off an accursed yoke. I am free; henceforth I forsake your band. I will protect this girl. Thank G.o.d, black as my heart is--dark as my crimes have been--I have something human left still; let me see who will touch her!"

Whilst he spoke these words a dark light beamed on his face, his eyes seemed to flash fire; beneath him knelt the poor girl, who had flown to him for protection, around him scowled the brigands, struck dumb at this sudden rebellion.

The Captain's very aspect darkened, as with a stern voice he again asked, "Comrades, who is to be captain?--whose is the girl?"

"Thou art--she is yours," exclaimed twenty voices.

"Then renounce your booty, give up your prize, obey your chief!

miscreant, fool, rebel, accursed and d----d, yield thee!" he shouted rather than spoke these words, and, as he spoke, he advanced to where L'Estrange stood.

Never did fierce tiger guard its prey as L'Estrange did his suppliant; his whole frame trembled with pa.s.sion, his mouth quivered, his eyes rolled fire.

"Back on your life; tempt me not," he cried, in a voice shuddering from wrath; "she is mine, I will guard her to death--I will save her, I will; fear not, maiden."

As the dove trembles when the hawk approaches--as the chicken hides beneath its mother's wing when the kite poises above--so trembled Caroline, so did she crouch beneath her protector, as the fierce Captain stepped forward.

The rest of the brigands stood still in a circle round, they were men, and they loved to see manly resistance; it would be hard to tell which of the two had most well-wishers. They saw L'Estrange was no coward, no faint heart, although merciful. They knew the Captain's character, and in silence watched. There was not one there who would give unwarrantable a.s.sistance to either,--the two must fight it out--they only looked on.

"Save _yourself_, Adrian, save yourself, L'Estrange; see yonder come the troops," pointing down the vale, up which came a large detachment of mounted sbirri; "yet," laying his hand on Caroline's shoulder, whilst she shrunk from his touch, "never shall it be said mortal man bearded me living. I am captain, I will have my lawful captive, and," lifting his bright dagger, "now yield thee, give her up. I will be chief--nothing but death shall make me yield my authority."

"Then die!" cried L'Estrange, striking a back-blow at his enemy with his stiletto. It sunk beneath the blade of the Captain's right shoulder.

"Oh, G.o.d! you have killed me, villain! oh, G.o.d! I am done for!"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the unhappy man, as he sunk backwards. At the same instant a dozen gunshots rent the air, and the robbers were surrounded on every side by enemies.

"What have I done?" exclaimed L'Estrange, gazing at the ghastly face of the Captain. "I have killed him! G.o.d forgive me!"

Then, throwing Caroline across the saddle-bow of his horse which stood beside him, he himself mounted in an instant, and, casting a hurried glance at the new foe and his late comrades, struck his spurs into his courser's flanks, and dashed through the sbirri, managing his horse with his knees; holding Caroline with one hand, whilst with the other he whirled his sabre over his head, cutting his way right and left through the sbirri. A dozen pistol-b.a.l.l.s followed his flight from both friends--at least former ones,--and enemies; but he seemed charmed,--no bullet struck him, and he was soon beyond range both of ball and vision.

The fight and its awful end had so engaged the bandits, they did not mark the new enemy approach, and gradually surround them: when, however, the first shot was fired, and one of their band fell mortally wounded, they were soon up and doing.

The two conflicts went on together for a few moments; then the Captain fell, and the sbirri, seeing the champion sink, rushed again on their foes with renewed energy.

The robbers were not men to be taken by surprise, as the sbirri found to their cost. They were all mounted in an instant; and the most of them, well acquainted with the ground, which their antagonists were not, disappeared in the woods, and from behind the trees kept up a telling fire. Man after man dropped before the unseen shots, and the few remaining soon began to lose spirit. When their Captain fell, and Adrian galloped off with his prize, a yell of vengeance arose from the brigands; and one of joy from the sbirri. The former--at least half a dozen who still remained--rushed to protect him from the latter, who strove to gain possession of the prize. A terrible hand-to-hand conflict was fought over the wounded man, who laughed as he saw them so grimly engage; for though mortally, he was only wounded as yet, and might live many hours.

Several bullets were, as we have already said, fired after the retreating L'Estrange. The battle still went on over the Captain; the sbirri wavered,--they yielded, and then fled. But they did not escape; every man was shot or cut down, and not even one escaped alive to tell the tale! The successful belligerents then took up their wounded captain, as well as the plunder, and diving into the woods, sought their cave, leaving five dead, and carrying home four more wounded besides their chief Luigi.

About half an hour after the conflict had ceased, and the brigands were gone, a solitary figure emerged from the woods, crossed himself when he saw the numerous corpses, and the poles with their bleeding trophies, and whistled, faintly at first, as if afraid of the reappearance of the enemy, then louder. His whistle was answered by plaintive neighs, and in less than ten minutes two of the four horses trotted up to the postilion; by-and-by a third also appeared; after some time he succeeded in harnessing his horses to the despoiled carriage, and set off alone for Foggia.

He had not proceeded far, however, ere the temporary fastenings he had made gave way, and the carriage once more came to a stand-still. The postilion alighted, and then, giving the other horses their freedom, mounted one, on which he galloped to the Earl's villa, bearing with him a scarf dyed with blood which had belonged to Caroline, as a dread token of the truth of his tale.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Oh, G.o.d! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood: I've seen it rushing forth in blood.

I've seen the sick and ghastly bed Of sin delirious with its tread."

_Prisoner of Chillon._

On his restless couch lay Captain John de Vere, the dying brigand. He was mortally wounded, though the deep gash had been bound, and the outward flow of blood stayed, yet he felt a pang which told him the wound bled internally, and he could not but feel it was for his life.

Death is a grand tryer; and when the bold sinner felt that within him which, in unmistakeable language, silently told him that in a few hours at most he would quit a life of crime and bloodshed, and enter on an endless existence of misery, or total annihilation, (for he was a professed infidel,) even his stout heart somewhat quailed! He felt the firm ground--the _terra cognita_--giving way; the reed on which he held failing him. He was about to make that dread leap in the dark, and to appear before an offended Deity; for though he professed to disbelieve in the existence of G.o.d, his heart belied his voice. He was in a burning fever--faint from loss of blood and parched with the death-thirst!--he felt the slow trickle of his life-blood inly welling! Oh! how his tongue seemed scorching, as if a foretaste of the quenchless fires of h.e.l.l! He turned over on his side, a thrill of agony shot through him, and he again relapsed to his former position, and lay on his back. He had turned to see if there was any one with him; he was alone, save his own dark thoughts,--they were with him! The couch on which he lay was raised on a slight bedstead that stood against the naked rock-walls of the cave. The apartment itself was a small cavern, opening into the larger cave in which the band lived,--it was his own private cell!

It was dimly lighted by a single wax candle of large dimensions, whose light counterfeited gloom on the dark rocks, hung with weapons, which glimmered in the uncertain rays. A large oaken table, very low, stood in the centre of the cave; on it were placed several bunches of grapes and a gla.s.s vessel of water,--but beyond the sufferer's reach, tantalizing him with their proximity. Oh, if he could reach the cooling fruit, and still more cooling water!--it seemed to aggravate his pain; and once more he made an effort to rise. This time he sat upright, and experienced a certain relief from the change of position; he gazed on the tempting fruit; but when he further raised his form to strive and reach it, another agonizing pang shot through him; so intense was its poignancy he could scarcely forbear screaming. He sank back a second time, muttering curses on his band.

"They were ready enough to share my booty!--good friends in health, but at need where are they? False dogs! vile deceivers!--they leave me, their captain, to perish like a brute beast! Bill! Pedro!--some one of you--dogs, ingrates!--for the love of G.o.d a gla.s.s of water!" The last part of the sentence was shouted. "They hear me not--they care not for me!--but no, I wrong them," he said, as the curtain which divided his cave from the larger was pushed aside, and an Italian maiden entered.

She was very young, and singularly interesting-looking in face; her beauty, of a high order, was as yet imperfectly developed; her eyes large, dark, and piercing. She approached the dying man with noiseless tread; then in her soft tongue asked if he wanted anything.

"Yes, child, water--water!--for G.o.d's sake! I am parched."

The maiden poured out a silver goblet-ful from the gla.s.s vessel, and brought it to the sufferer; he seized it as if it had been for his life, and eagerly drained it.

"Thanks; it is long since I tasted water, signorina, but I never before drank wine with such gusto,--egad, it was nectar!"

"Take some grapes, Capitano," said the girl, offering him a bunch; "they will cool your tongue. Are you better?--easier from pain?"

"Ay, better now," exclaimed the Captain, receiving the fruit. "Now tell Bill Stacy I want him:--why does he shrink from the sight of death?"