Bram Stoker - Bram Stoker - The Complete Novels

“Little Missy, ye ain’t a-foolin’ me, air ye?”

“Oh, no, Dick; no, no!”

“Then I wish I had that laughin’ jackass that kem all the way up on Shasta to fool me — to fool me in face of all these —”

Here he looked around again, and, as he did so, whipped from the collar of his coat his great bowie knife and, pressing the spring, threw it open with a dexterous jerk. No woman screamed; it takes more than a generation of ignorance of such matters to make women fear cold steel. But there was more than one woman present who in earlier days had seen just such quiet anger flame out and end in murder, and with one accord they drew back and left the men in front. Dick, seeing only men’s faces, finished his scornful sentence:

“These — these swine! There he is, the laughin’ jackass hisself!” he said, seeing Peter Blyth’s face in the ring, where the withdrawal of the womenkind had left him in the front.

With a sudden spring he caught him by the throat with his powerful left hand, and held him as in a vice. Esse was paralyzed, and could make neither sound nor stir, and Peter Blyth found himself, for the first time in his life, face to face with sudden death. The rest of the men round feared to stir, not for themselves, for there was not one of them, being Californians, who would not cheerfully have made the battle his own; but they were all unarmed, and they feared that in his present infuriated condition Dick might do a brutal violence before he could be restrained. As for Peter his manhood stood to him. He did not flinch, but with cool, calm courage faced the situation. On one side was Dick, more dangerous than any wild animal, and ready to do anything, as he thundered out:

“Now, ye dog, tell me what ye meant by foolin’ me and shamin’ me this way; and beg my pardon, or by the Almighty I’ll corpse ye — whar ye stand!”

On the other side was Esse’s quivering face, all fright; but fright of many kinds, for Peter, and for the shame of the open exposure of her secret which she saw coming. Peter Blyth did not himself quite know how matters stood: he had not yet heard of Esse’s engagement to Reginald. All he knew was that Dick was there in such a rage that it might mean death and disaster and life-long sorrow to those he loved. The comedy had all at once and, with a vengeance, become a tragedy. So he was silent, and Dick, who was all man, even in his blood-madness, recognised the courage in him, and with an imperious gesture threw him off, saying:

“I suppose ye ain’t no worse nor the rest. I’ve seen the day when I cleared out the Holy Moses saloon in Portland for less than this. Answer me some of ye! what does it all mean?”

It was a terrible situation, and in all that roomful of people, now as still as death, there was not one whose heart did not beat quickly, or seem to stand still at the thought of the potent, reckless, fatal force which seemed to have been let loose amongst them. In the midst of the silence Reginald Hampden stepped out, and Esse felt glad, and a new sense of relief, as she noticed his calm and gallant bearing. He moved towards Dick, and said with courtly sweetness:

“I hope I may speak here, since it is my privilege to speak for Miss Elstree! Look, sir! Look; the young lady! You are distressing her! I know you to be a brave man, and, from all I have heard her say to your honour, I am quite sure you would not willingly cause her harm or humiliate her. See, sir! you are crushing her to the dust!” as he spoke he went to Esse and stood beside her.

A quick flush seemed to leap up Dick’s face from neck to forehead; his hand dropped, and with a sound in his throat between a sob and a gasp, he said:

“Little Missy, forgive me if ye can! I must have gone mad! This galoot here was pretty right when he called me a brute. Let me get back to the b’ars an’ the Injuns. I’m more to home with them than I am here. Be easy, Little Missy, an’ ye too, all ye ladies and gentlemen; it’ll be no pleasant thinkin’ for me up yonder, away among the mountings, that when I kem down to ‘Frisco, meanin’ to do honour to a young lady that I’d give the best drop of my blood for — and she knows it — I couldn’t keep my blasted hands off my weppins in the midst of a crowd of women! Durn the thing! I ain’t fit to go heeled inter decent kempany!”

As he spoke he lifted his arm, and with a mighty downward sweep hurled down his bowie knife, so that it stuck inches deep into the oaken floor, where it quivered. Once more he turned to Esse:

“Forgive me, Little Missy; an’ if ye kin forgit me, an’ the shame I’ve brought upon ye and yer house!”

He bowed and was moving away, when again Reginald, to whom Esse had whispered, strode forward.

“No, sir! You must not go like that. There is a mistake here which must be set right! You will understand me when I tell you that Miss Elstree has done me the honour to consent to be my wife. You have been put in a false position. It is quite true that Esse wished to see you; that she asked her friend, Mr. Blyth, to carry such a message to you. Believe me, that she does understand and appreciate the honour that you have done her, though, I must say, in some justification of these other ladies and gentlemen, in so unconventional a manner. But you must not leave the house in such a way! Believe me, you are, and ever shall be, an honoured guest in a house to which you have saved so dear a life!”

And he put his arm round Esse who had got suddenly pale and seemed about to faint.

“One of you boys,” he said, “pick up Dick’s knife and give it to him. I can’t move yet!”

One of the young men took the handle and tugged at it, but in vain. There was a laugh; another tried it, but with the same effect. A smile stole over the pale anger of Dick’s face; he was beginning to yield to the humour of the situation, and he stood silent where he was. Mrs. Elstree came forward, she had only just come into the room, having been in the music-room, and did not understand what was going on, but seeing Esse’s head drooping had flown to her side. Reginald, finding her mother’s arms round her, left her side and striding forward, seized the handle of the bowie knife. With a sharp jerk, and with a force which made his arm tingle from wrist to shoulder, and sent the blood up into his head, he plucked it from the floor amid a buzz of approval, and a responsive “Good!” from Dick as he slapped his thigh in his old fashion. He stepped over to Dick, shutting the knife with an experienced jerk, and held it out him:

“Your weapon, sir!” he said, “but I should be very proud if you will let me keep it, in memory of a brave man to whom I and others owe so much!”

“Take it,” said Dick, “an’ welkim! The poor thing’ll never, I am sure, be disgraced by ye as it was tonight by me. Shake! Ye’re a man, ye are; and I wish you and Little Missy all the happiness in the world!”

The two men shook hands and Reginald went on:

“You’ll let me give you this in exchange, I hope.” He drew from his pocket, and detached from its gold chain, a beautiful hunting knife. “It is not merely that it is mine, but it was given me by an emperor, who was good enough to say I had done him some service when a wild boar charged him in a Thuringian forest.”

Dick took the knife:

“I’ll take it and keep it, pard, because on my soul I believe it will pleasure ye if I wear it! An’ now, good night, an’ I humbly ask all yer pardon for my conduct! Forget it and me if ye can!” and he moved to the door.

Here Mrs. Elstree spoke out; Esse had been whispering to her during the foregoing:

“No, no, Mr. Grizzly Dick, you must not go! There is no one who can come into my house that I could be more glad to see. You must stay and show us all that you forgive us that we have amongst us made you, for a time, uncomfortable!”