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While
speaking
he
has
kept
his
right
hand
under
the
left
breast
of
his
coat
.
Along
with
the
oath
it
comes
forth
,
holding
a
revolver
.
The
spectators
have
just
time
to
see
the
pistol
--
as
it
glints
under
the
slanting
sunbeams
--
when
two
shots
are
heard
in
quick
succession
.
With
a
like
interval
between
,
two
men
fall
forward
upon
their
faces
;
and
lie
with
their
heads
closely
contiguous
!
One
is
Maurice
Gerald
,
the
mustanger
,
--
the
other
Cassius
Calhoun
,
ex-captain
of
volunteer
cavalry
.
The
crowd
closes
around
,
believing
both
to
be
dead
;
while
through
the
stillness
that
succeeds
is
heard
a
female
voice
,
in
those
wild
plaintive
tones
that
tell
of
a
heart
nigh
parting
in
twain
!
Joy
!
There
was
this
under
the
evergreen
oak
,
when
it
was
discovered
that
only
the
suicide
was
a
success
,
and
the
attempt
at
assassination
a
failure
.
There
was
this
in
the
heart
of
Louise
Poindexter
,
on
learning
that
her
lover
still
lived
.
Though
saddened
by
the
series
of
tragedies
so
quickly
transpiring
,
she
was
but
human
;
and
,
being
woman
,
who
can
blame
her
for
giving
way
to
the
subdued
happiness
that
succeeded
?
Not
I.
Not
you
,
if
you
speak
truly
.
The
passion
that
controlled
her
may
not
be
popular
under
a
strictly
Puritan
standard
.
Still
is
it
according
to
the
dictates
of
Nature
--
universal
and
irresistible
--
telling
us
that
father
,
mother
,
sister
,
and
brother
,
are
all
to
be
forsaken
for
that
love
illimitable
;
on
Earth
only
exceeded
--
sometimes
scarce
equalled
--
by
the
love
of
self
.
Do
not
reproach
the
young
Creole
,
because
this
passion
was
paramount
in
her
soul
.
Do
not
blame
her
for
feeling
pleasure
amidst
moments
that
should
otherwise
have
been
devoted
to
sadness
.
Nor
,
that
her
happiness
was
heightened
,
on
learning
from
the
astonished
spectators
,
how
her
lover
's
life
had
been
preserved
--
as
it
might
seem
miraculously
.
