Spades [pp. 183-190]

SPADES.
velop a craven and dastardly nature;
for he who will rob a mother of that
child for whose hand he dare not ask
-he who will, under cover of night,
steal away with the prize for which he
dare not compete with other men-is a
thief and a coward." Slowly parted the
green baize curtains which divided the
bar-room from the gamblers, and slowly
emerged from the smoke of the den the
outline of a man. Cold and unimpassioned was the manner of Spades; but
there was a meaning and energy in the
tones of his voice, as he said, "Stephen
Parsons is not a coward." The jingle
of glasses ceased; the hum of voices
died away; even the distracted mother
quelled her moan under the glance of
Spades.
Spades again spoke: "Who says that
Stephen Parsons is a coward?"
"I, Harry Devoe, say it," echoed back
as clearly and strongly the voice of the
disappointed man, as he confronted the
statuesque figure. He looked almost
handsome, as with one hand he flung
back the mass of black hair, revealing a face marred with dissipation, but
transfused for the moment with the shining light enthusiasm furnished. "I say
it, sir. The man who steals in the dead
of night what he would not dare to
take in the day deserves to be called a
coward and a thief; and I charge myself
with visiting the penalty of these offenses upon him. Madam, return to your
dance: I will bring your daughter back,
safe, and unharmed as she left you."
"Hold!" said Spades. "The person
who moves an inch, in pursuit of Stephen Parsons, has one to deal with who
never missed his man, and who is as impervious to the cries of mercy as yon
dull earth. Listen! They have been'
gone two hours; and though a man's
thought may be swift to the woman he
loves, his impotent steps are slow. The
priest who is to unite them has beerp in
waiting for hours, only six miles away.
The words that make Stephen Parsons
and Paulina husband and wife have already been said. But were it not so, no
human being could, with my knowledge,
leave this camp in their search. Look
at me, you-you foolish, babbling, mercenary mother! Look at me, men!
What see you? A something at which
you all shudder, and shun-a devil in a
piece of bloodless flesh! I know I am
the terror of this region. What, think
you, made me an outcast, and brought
me to this condition? Madam Perron,
hearken! I had a mother, in whose
eyes of affection I read the hope of all
great and good things for her son; but
she died, and I was left alone. And
soon there came to me, as to most men,
honest and sincere love for a woman;
but her mother-such another as you,
madam -stepped in and forbade the
union, which would have been a blessing to us both, and gave her in wedlock
to another, a more prosperous man, who
in two years' time put the sod over her
broken heart. Sirs and madam, Stephen Parsons is the son of the one
woman whom I loved and who was created for me: by her broken heart and
life, I swear that no human being shall
stand between him and his mate! I am
scorched and riven by the sins of the
world. I have seen much. I have traveled far. There has been no rest for my
feet. But in no place where there are
women have I failed to watch the curious
workings of the heart called the mother's. It is ever the same: much love
for sons, little love for daughters-ay,
so little, that the godliest among them
will sacrifice her first-born, her lily, to
the fiend of mammon. Go, madam; enliven the dance with your presence; show
yourself strong, once, by accepting the
inevitable in a spirit of decency; for I
tell you now, with this hand raised to
heaven- this hand once warm with the
return pressure of an angel's love, but
now the deadly terror of every man
I88
[FEB.