Cruel As The Grave

"The boy hastened away to spread the news. With the greatest difficulty

the body was recovered, and conveyed to Shut-up Dubarry. The inquest

that sat upon it rendered the simple verdict, 'Found Dead'; for whether

the death were accidental or suicidal, or whether it resulted from the

fall upon the rocks, or from the waters of the cascade, the Dogberries

of that jury could not decide.

"The gipsy girl was buried; and her brutal protector coarsely professed

himself to be greatly relieved by her death. And he assembled all his

servants before him, and forbade them, under the penalty of his heaviest

displeasure, ever to mention the name of Gentiliska to the lady he was

about to bring home as his wife. These slaves knew their master, and in

great fear and trembling they each and all solemnly promised to obey

him. Then he left home for the eastern part of the State from which he

was to bring his bride. On this occasion he was gone a month.

"It was in the middle of the month of November that he returned to

Shut-up Dubarry, bringing with him his fair young bride. She was a

Fairfax, from the county that was named after her family. She was

unquestionably a lady of the highest and purest order, and the

neighboring gentry, ever pleased to welcome such an one among them,

called on her, invited her to their houses, and gave dinner or supper

parties in her honor.

"Philip Dubarry, who had recently fretted at the galling 'ban' under

which, for the transient love of the gipsy girl, he had voluntarily

placed himself, now rejoiced at being delivered from it, and entered

with all the zest of novelty into the social pleasures of the place. He

loved his beautiful and high-born wife with both passion and pride, and

she loved some imaginary hero in his form, and was happy in the

illusion. Thus all went merry as a marriage bell until one dark and

dismal day in December, when the rain fell in floods and the wind raved

around the house, and the state of the weather kept the newly married

couple closely confined within doors, his bride turned to him, and

inquired quietly: "'Who is that little dark-haired girl with the piercing black eyes, and

in the short red cloak, that I see so often around the house?' "'What did you say?' inquired Philip Dubarry, in a quavering voice.

"'Who is that little girl in the red cloak, who seems so much at home in

the house? Is she deaf and dumb? I speak to her, but she never answers

me; generally indeed, she goes away as soon as she perceives that I

notice her. Who is she, Phil?' and the young wife looked at her husband

for an answer. But his face was that of a corpse, and his form was

shaking with an ague fit, for the guilty are ever cowardly.