Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 100.djvu/64

50 booty, while the prisoner opened the door of the sleeping-room to search it.

But—oh! anguish unspeakable! oh! avenging God! who should spring forward to meet him, clinging to his knees, and imploring his protection—who, but his innocent, unfortunate little favourite! He started back, speechless and powerless; but when he beheld his comrade without uttering one word, brandish his knife, he clasped the child with one arm in a convulsive embrace, and stretched out the other to defend him against the ruffian.

"Shall he be left to betray us both to-morrow?" mumbled the wretch. "He must die, for your sake as well as mine."

"Oh! let us take him with us!" prayed the other, in the deepest agitation, while he tried to keep off the knife, which, however, he did with difficulty, as the child held fast to his arm, and in his terror at the murderous weapon, hid his little face on that breast where he had so often rested in nappy confidence, his silver voice murmuring his childish love.

"You are mad," said his companion. "What should we do with the boy? Let go your hold of him, I say—we have no time to lose—let him go, or it will cost you your own life."

The quivering lips of the miserable man had scarcely uttered a prayer to wait, at least, till he could withdraw, when the child was torn from him, and like a maniac he rushed away, sprang out of the window, threw himself upon the ground, and buried his head among the long damp grass. What a moment of agony! Such agony, that at the remembrance of it the prisoner groaned aloud, and dashed his head against the stone wall, then coiled himself up like a worm, as if he would fain have shrunk into nothing.

The dear-bought, bloodstained booty was divided, and the criminal associates separated. But suspicion fell upon them; they were pursued, and soon taken. On being carried before a magistrate, he denied it all, yet when he was placed by the dead body of the murdered child, guilt spoke in his stiff, averted head—in the tell-tale perspiration that stood on his brow—and in his clenched and trembling hands. He confessed, and implored to be removed, even to prison, from the harrowing spectacle. His accomplice was condemned to death, he himself to imprisonment for life.

There he was now, alone with the dreadful recollections of former days. The summer came and went, without bringing any other joy to him than that the sun's rays fell broader, and more golden in their gleams upon the wall outside, that bounded his narrow view; and that now and then a bird would fly over it, quiver a few notes, then wing its flight away. That sight always awoke a voice in his heart that cried for "freedom—freedom!" But he would hush it with the thought, that he could not be happier were he at liberty than in his dungeon cell. At other times, he would take a violent longing to see a green leaf—only a single green leaf—or a corn-blossom from the fields, or a blade of grass. Ah! these were vain wishes! When winter came, and the sun and the daylight forsook him so soon, he was still more gloomy, for he could not sleep the whole of the long, long night, and the phantoms that haunted him were terrific.