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diff --git a/44803-0.txt b/44803-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e7f67e --- /dev/null +++ b/44803-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9518 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44803 *** + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through the + Digital Library of the Falvey Memorial Library, + Villanova University. See + http://digital.library.villanova.edu/Item/vudl:322376 + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). + + + + + +LITTLE GOLDEN'S DAUGHTER + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + CHAPTER XX. + CHAPTER XXI. + CHAPTER XXII. + CHAPTER XXIII. + CHAPTER XXIV. + CHAPTER XXV. + CHAPTER XXVI. + CHAPTER XXVII. + CHAPTER XXVIII. + CHAPTER XXIX. + CHAPTER XXX. + CHAPTER XXXI. + CHAPTER XXXII. + CHAPTER XXXIII. + CHAPTER XXXIV. + CHAPTER XXXV. + CHAPTER XXXVI. + CHAPTER XXXVII. + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + CHAPTER XXXIX. + CHAPTER XL. + CHAPTER XLI. + CHAPTER XLII. + CHAPTER XLIII. + CHAPTER XLIV. + CHAPTER XLV. + CHAPTER XLVI. + CHAPTER XLVII. + CHAPTER XLVIII. + CHAPTER XLIX. + + + + +LITTLE GOLDEN'S DAUGHTER + +Or + +The Dream of a Life Time + +by + +MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER + +Author of +"Little Coquette Bonnie," "The Senator's Bride," "Brunette and +Blonde," etc. + + + + + + + +New York +The American News Company +Publishers' Agents +39-41 Chambers Street + +Copyright, 1883, +Norman L. Munro. + +Copyright 1901, +By Street & Smith + +Little Golden's Daughter + + + + +LITTLE GOLDEN'S DAUGHTER; + +OR, + +_The Dream of Her Life-Time_. + +By MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Beautiful Golden Glenalvan stood by the willow-bordered lake and looked +into its azure depths with a dreamy light in her pansy-blue eyes. + +She had been singing as she danced along the sunny path, but the sweet +song died on the coral lips as she came to the little lake with its +green fringe of willows and the white lilies sleeping on its breast. + +The wind as it sighed through the trees, and the low, soft ripple of +the water, always sounded sad to Golden. + +It seemed to her vivid fancy that the wind and the waves were trying to +tell her some sad story in a language she could not understand. + +She was unconsciously saddened whenever she came to its banks and +listened to the low, soft murmur. + +It had a tragic story to tell her, indeed, but its language was too +mysterious for her to understand. Some day she would know. + +The afternoon sunshine threw the long, slanting shadows of old +Glenalvan Hall far across the level greensward almost to the border of +the lake. + +It had once been a fine and stately mansion, picturesque and +pretentious, with many peaks and gables and oriel windows. But its +ancient glory had long departed. + +It seemed little more than a picturesque, ivy-covered ruin now. But +there still remained in one wing a few habitable apartments that were +fine and large, and lofty. + +Here the last of the Glenalvans--once a proud and wealthy race--dwelt +in respectable, shabby-genteel poverty. + +But poverty did not seem to have hurt lovely little Golden Glenalvan. + +She had a wealth of beauty, and a happy heart that made her seem like +a gleam of sunshine in the home she brightened. She was a careless, +willful child not yet sixteen. + +The plain, simple, blue gingham dress was worn quite short, yet, the +beautiful, golden tresses fell to her waist in long, loose, childish +ringlets. + +Free and careless as the birds, she roamed at will through the wild, +neglected park and the green woods that lay around her ancestral home. + +The dwellers in Glenalvan Hall were divided into two families. In +the best and most habitable part, John Glenalvan lived with his wife +and family, consisting of two daughters and a son. In a few battered +rooms in the tumble-down wing, John Glenalvan's father, an old and +hoary-headed man, kept house with his pretty little granddaughter, +Golden, and one old black servant called Dinah. + +We have digressed a little from Golden as she stands beside the lake, +swinging her wide, straw hat by its blue ribbons. Let us return. + +The little maiden is communing with herself. Quite unconsciously she +speaks her thoughts aloud: + +"Old Dinah says that Elinor and Clare will give a little party to-night +in honor of their brother's wealthy friend, who is to come on a visit +to him to-day. How I wish they would invite me. I should like to go." + +"Should you now, really?" said a slightly sarcastic voice close to her. + +She looked up, and saw her cousin, Elinor coming along the path toward +her. + +Elinor Glenalvan was a tall and queenly beauty of the most pronounced +brunette type. She had large, black eyes that sparkled like diamonds, +and glossy, black hair braided into a coronet on the top of her haughty +head. + +Her features were well-cut and regular, her skin a clear olive, her +cheeks and lips were a rich, glowing crimson. She was twenty-one years +old, and her sister Clare, who walked by her side, was nineteen. + +Clare Glenalvan was a weak, vain, pretty girl, but with no such decided +claim to beauty as Elinor. Her hair and eyes were not as dark as her +sister's, her cheeks and lips were less rosy. She had a mincing, +affected air, but was considered stylish and elegant. + +Both girls were attired in the best their father could afford from his +very limited income, and their little cousin's simple blue gingham +looked plain indeed by contrast with their cool, polka-dotted lawns, +and lace ruffles. + +Elinor carried a small basket on her arm. They had come to the lake +for water-lilies to decorate the rooms for the party of which they had +caught Golden talking aloud. + +The little girl blushed at her dilemma a moment, then she faced the +occasion bravely. + +"I did not know that you could hear me, Elinor," she said, lifting her +beautiful, frank, blue eyes to her cousin's face, "but it is true. +I should like to come to your party. You have invited grandpa's old +servant to come and help with the supper, and she will go. Why do you +not ask grandpa and me?" + +"Grandpa is too old to come, and you are too young," replied Elinor, +with a careless, flippant laugh, while Clare stared at Golden, and +murmured audibly: + +"The bold, little thing." + +Golden revolved her cousin's reply a moment in her mind. + +"Well, perhaps he is too old," she said, with a little sigh, "and yet I +think he might enjoy seeing the young people amusing themselves. But as +for me, Elinor, I know I am not too young! Minnie Edwards is coming, I +have heard, and she is a month younger than I am! The only difference +is that _she_ puts up her hair, and wears long dresses. I would wear +long dresses, too, only I do not believe grandpa could afford it. It +would take several yards more for a trail, or even to touch all around." + +Clare and Elinor laughed heartlessly at the wistful calculation of the +difference between short and long dresses. Then the elder sister said, +abruptly: + +"It is a great pity grandpa cannot keep you a little girl in short +dresses forever, Golden! You will not find it very pleasant to be a +woman." + +"Why not?" said innocent Golden. "Are not women happy?" + +"Some are," said Elinor, "but I do not think _you_ will ever be." + +"Why not?" asked the girl again. + +The two sisters exchanged significant glances that did not escape +Golden's keen eyes. + +"Elinor, why do you and Clare look at each other so hatefully?" she +cried out in sudden resentment and childish passion. "What is the +matter? What have I done?" + +"You have done nothing except to be born," said Clare Glenalvan, +irritably, "and under the circumstances, _that_ is the worst thing you +_could have_ done." + +Was it only the fancy of beautiful Golden, or did the wind in the trees +and grasses sigh mournfully, and the blue waves go lapsing past with a +sadder tone? + +"Clare, I don't know what you mean," she cried, half-angrily. "I never +harmed anyone in my life! I have not hurt anyone by being born, have I?" + +The sisters looked at the beautiful, half-defiant face with its rose +flushed cheeks and flashing, violet eyes, and Elinor sneered rudely, +while Clare answered in a sharp, complaining voice: + +"Yes, you have hurt every soul that bears the name of Glenalvan--the +dead Glenalvans as well as the living ones. You are a living disgrace +to the proud, old name that your mother was the first to disgrace!" + +Then she paused, a little frightened, for Golden had started so +violently that she had almost fallen backward into the lake. + +She steadied herself by catching the branch of a bending willow, and +looked at her cousin with death-white lips and cheeks, and scornful +eyes. + +"Clare, you are a cruel, wicked girl," she cried. "I will go and tell +grandpa what terrible things you have said of me! I did not believe one +word!" + +The tears of wounded pride were streaming down her cheeks as she +sped along the path and across the green lawn up to the old hall. The +sisters looked at each other, a little disconcerted. + +"Clare, you were too hasty," said Elinor, uneasily. "Grandpa will be +very angry." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Little Golden sped across the green lawn, her young heart full of pain +and anger at the cruel words her cousins had spoken to her. + +Flying through the long, dark corridor of the old hall, and passing +through several lofty and empty old rooms, she emerged at last in the +sunny bay-window where her grandfather dozed daily, surrounded by pots +of fragrant roses and geraniums. + +But with the breathless words of complaint just parting her coral lips, +Golden saw that the old arm-chair was vacant. + +She was surprised and a little dismayed; she had been so sure of +finding him there. + +She turned round and ran out to the sunny kitchen in the back yard, +where old Dinah stood at a table ironing some simple white garments +for her young mistress, and crooning to herself a fragment of a negro +revival tune. + +The only nurse and the best friend that Golden had ever known after her +grandfather, was homely, warm-hearted, black Dinah. + +Golden loved the old negress dearly. Ever since she had first lisped +her name, the girl had familiarly called her "black mammy," after the +fashion of most southern children with their nurses. + +Now she called out quickly before she had reached the kitchen door. + +"Oh, black mammy, where is grandpa?" + +Black mammy turned with such a start that she dropped the flat-iron she +was wielding with such consummate skill. + +"Oh! honey, chile, how you skeered me," she cried, "an' I've dropped de +flat-iron, and e'enamost burnt my black toes off! What for did ye come +callin' me so suddent?" + +"Where is grandpa?" repeated the child. + +She came up to the door and looked at Dinah, and the old woman saw how +pale she was, and what a strange light gleamed in the violet eyes under +their long, curling lashes of golden-brown. + +"Come, dearie, don't be afeard because de old man ain't a-nid-noddin' +in his arm-cheer as usual. He's out a-walkin' wif his son." + +"Uncle John?" asked little Golden, with a wondering look. + +"Who else, honey?" said Dinah, as she vigorously rubbed a fresh iron +with salt and beeswax. + +"It is so strange," said Golden, momentarily diverted from her +immediate grievance by Dinah's news. "Uncle John comes so seldom. What +did he want, black mammy?" + +"Want? De debbil, his best friend, knows better dan your poor ole black +mammy," said Dinah, shaking her head. "All I know is dat he come +looking black as a thunder-cloud, and ax ole massa to take a walk with +him." + +"And he went?" said Golden. + +"Oh! yes, he went, pore ole soul, a-hobblin' off as sweet as a lamb +with that snake in the grass!" + +"Oh! black mammy, grandpa would not like you to speak that way of his +son," cried Golden. + +"I axes your pardon, honey. I spoke my mind afore I thought," answered +Dinah. + +"There is no offense as far as I am concerned," replied her young +mistress, readily. "There is no love lost between my uncle and me." + +Then she added, with a shade of anxiety in her voice: + +"Will they be long gone, do you think?" + +"I hasn't the leastest idea," said busy Dinah, "but ole massa is too +feeble to walk very fur." + +Golden turned away silently, and went to her grandfather's nook in the +bay-window to await his return. She was burning with impatience to tell +him the cruel and unkind things her cousins had said to her, and to ask +if they were true. + +She sat down in the old arm-chair, among the blossoming flowers, +herself the fairest flower of all, and leaning her dimpled cheek on her +hand, relapsed into troubled thought. + +The strange relations sustained by her grandfather and herself toward +his son's family puzzled her as it had often done before. Living in the +same house, and nearly related as they were, there was little or no +intercourse between the two families and they were barely friendly. + +Ever since Golden could remember, it had been so. She had questioned +her grandfather and she had questioned Dinah, but they gave her no +satisfaction on the subject. + +It remained a pregnant mystery to the lonely child, living her +thoughtless, girlish life in the ruined rooms of the western wing, and +in the tangled gardens, and the wild, green wood. + +A brief time of impatient waiting, then Golden heard the murmur of +voices beneath the window. + +She leaned her curly head out, and heard one sentence spoken in the +clear, curt voice of John Glenalvan: + +"You understand now, father, how important it is to us that you should +keep Golden's daughter more carefully secluded?" + +"The child will fret--she has been so used to an outdoor life, it will +injure her health," feebly objected the old man. + +"Her health is the poorest objection you could urge with me," said John +Glenalvan, cruelly. "If she had died long ago it would have been the +very best thing that could have happened for us all." + +The father's reply was lost in the distance as they passed on. They +came in at the front door, passed down the long corridor, and separated +to their divided abodes. + +Golden's grandfather came heavily into the quiet sitting-room, leaning +on his oaken cane, and sought his favorite chair at the sunny window +where the flowers bloomed and the bright-winged butterflies hovered. + +He was not prepared to see Golden start up from the chair with a white +face, and wild, frightened, blue eyes. + +She clutched his arms and leaned against him. He felt her frightened +heart-beats plainly. + +"Oh, grandpa, grandpa," she wailed, "what is the matter with everyone? +What have I done that some wish me dead and others are sorry that ever +I was born?" + +She felt the tremulous lips of the old man pressed fondly on her +drooping head, she heard a sorrowful murmur: + +"Poor little Golden's daughter," then he said aloud: + +"My darling, who has been saying such cruel things to you?" + +"It is Clare and Elinor, and Uncle John," she sobbed. "They--the girls, +I mean, now--said the worst thing I could have done was to be born; and +that my mother was the first to disgrace the name of Glenalvan. And, +grandpa, I heard what Uncle John said when he passed under the window. +He said if I had died long ago it must have been better for all." + +Old Hugh Glenalvan's kindly blue eyes were flashing fire. He held the +quivering little form against his breast with loving arms, and his +outraged old heart beat fast against the girl's. + +But he could not answer her. Indignant pain and grief kept him dumb. + +"Grandpa, tell me what I have done to be hated by my kind," she sobbed. +"Am I deformed? Am I repulsive to look at?" + +"My darling, you are as perfect and as beautiful as an angel," he +answered, fondly kissing the fair, innocent brow. + +"Why do they hate me, then?" she wailed. "I would love them all if they +would let me." + +"They are cruel and heartless. If they were not, they could not help +but love you, my Golden," said the old man, bitterly. Then he sat down +and drew her to a seat upon his knee. + +"Think no more of them, my darling," he said, brushing away the shining +pearls of grief that hung trembling on her thick lashes. "They are +cruel and unjust to you. Keep away from their presence and forget that +the same strain of blood flows in your veins. Look upon them as aliens +and strangers. Give all your love to me." + +She hid her sweet face against his shoulder, her breast heaving with +the sobs that she could not repress. + +"I have a heart full of love," she sighed, "and it is all your own, +dear grandpa. But tell me, oh, tell me of my mother! Can it be true? +She did not, oh, she could not disgrace our proud old name." + +"Hush, Golden, you torture me," the old man said, hoarsely. "There +is a mystery surrounding you, my little one. Your history is a sad +one. But you shall never know it if I can keep the blighting secret +from your knowledge. Ask me no more, my darling. Dismiss it from your +thoughts. You have always been happy heretofore. Be happy still. You +are innocent, pure and beautiful. There is no reason why you should not +have a quiet, happy life if you will keep away from those who wound +you with their cruel words, and cling closely to your simple, peaceful +home." + +Her wild sobs had ceased. She was looking earnestly into his face, +while long, low sighs quivered over her lips. + +"Now, listen to me, Golden," he said. "Your uncle has made a hard +request of me, darling, but I have promised that it shall be done. +Golden, will you trust me, and help me to keep my word?" + +"Is it about me?" she said. + +"Yes, dear. You know the three upper chambers which foolish people +believe to be haunted, Golden?" + +"Yes," she said, and he saw a slight quiver pass over the delicate +lips, and her face grew pale. + +"Of course you know that is all nonsense, little one," he said, +reassuringly. "There are no ghosts in Glenalvan Hall. It is only +foolish and superstitious people who believe that silly tale. Golden, +would you be willing to remain secluded in those haunted rooms for one +week, or for whatever number of days John Glenalvan's expected guest +shall remain?" + +The breath came a little faster over the beautiful, parted lips. + +"I am almost afraid," she sighed. "Oh, grandpa, why should they wish to +hide me away like a criminal? I have done nothing." + +"I know that, dear. It is a heartless whim of those heartless people. +They do not wish their guest to see you, or even to know of your +existence. Do not mind them, pet. Perhaps they are jealous and fear +that he might fall in love with you. That would never do, because +they mean to marry him to Elinor and prop the fallen fortunes of the +Glenalvans. You will humor their fancy, won't you, Golden?" + +The pansy-blue eyes flashed with resentful fire. + +"Why should I humor them?" she cried. "They are hard and cold to me. +Why should I shut myself up in prison, away from the sunshine, and the +flowers and the birds in those gloomy, haunted chambers for their sake?" + +"It is for _my_ sake, darling," he replied. "I have promised them that +you will do it for me. Will you not do so, Golden?" + +"I am afraid of the haunted rooms, grandpa," said the child, with a +shiver. + +"Not in the daylight I hope," he said. + +"No, not in the daytime," she replied. + +"Old Dinah could sleep in your room at night, Golden. So, you see, +there could be nothing to fear. My little darling, I have loved you and +cared for you all your life, and I have never asked you for a sacrifice +before. Will you make this concession for my sake?" + +The beautiful girl clasped her white arms round his neck, and kissed +his withered cheek. + +"I cannot refuse if it is for your sake, grandpa," she said. "You have +been father, mother, friends and home to me all my life! I have had no +one but you, grandpa, and I love you too dearly to grieve you. I will +do as you wish me." + +He kissed her and thanked her many times. + +"You must believe that it hurts me as much as it does you, my pet," he +said, "but it will not be for long--and John is so violent, I had to +promise for the sake of peace. I hope you will never regret this sweet +yielding to my will." + +"I am sure I shall not," said the child-like girl, but she gave an +unconscious shudder. + +His hands rested, as if in blessing, on her hair. He whispered, +inaudibly: + +"God bless my hapless daughter's child." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Glenalvan Hall, like all old family mansions belonging to old and +respectable families, had its reputed ghost. + +It was currently reported that three rooms in the upper story were +haunted by the spirit of a fair young girl who had once inhabited them, +and who had pined away and died for love of a handsome man who had not +known of her love nor reciprocated it. + +This fair ancestress of Golden's--Erma Glenalvan, as she was +called--was said to haunt the suite of rooms she had occupied in life, +and credulous people believed that on moonlight nights she walked up +and down, weeping and sighing, and wringing her white hands because her +spirit could not retain its grave. + +It was to these gloomy and dismantled rooms, haunted by the restless +ghost of an unhappy girl, that little Golden was consigned for a week +or more by the stern desire of John Glenalvan. It was a hard trial to +the child. + +She would not have consented to it but for the pleadings of her +grandfather. Her love and gratitude to him made her yield an easy +consent to his prayer, while she inwardly quaked with fear at the dread +ordeal before her. + +Old Dinah was desired by her master to transfer suitable bedding and +furniture to the room Golden would occupy, and to carry her meals to +that room daily and attend carefully on her young mistress. Black Dinah +was furious. + +"I know'd dar was deviltry afoot," she said. "I know'd it! John +Glenalvan never sets his foot in ole massa's presence without some +devil's broth is a-brewing!" + +"Hush, Dinah," old Hugh said, sternly. "You must not speak of my son +that way. Do as I bid you. No harm can come to the child. She is +willing to the plan." + +Dinah's loud complaints subsided into muttering and grumbling, but she +did as her master had ordered. + +That night when old Hugh had laid his gray head on his pillow, and old +Dinah had gone into the other wing of the hall, little Golden sat down +to read in the ghostly-looking chamber where Erma Glenalvan's loving +heart had broken for a hopeless love. + +Through the weird stillness and solitude of the haunted room, the sound +of the gay dance music came to Golden's ears, softened and mellowed by +the distance. + +The little maiden's heart beat faster at the delicious sound, so +inspiring to youthful ears. She threw down her book impatiently. + +"How sweet it sounds," she said. "They are in the great dancing-hall. +I should like to see them. How cruel my cousins are to me!" + +The sweet lips quivered, and the blue eyes darkened with anger. Golden +was a spoiled, impetuous child. Her grandpa and old Dinah had always +yielded to her in everything and placed no restraint on her impetuous +temper. + +Her little heart was swelling bitterly now, with resentment against +her cruel cousins. She felt their neglect and their insults keenly, +the more so because she was ignorant of any possible reason for their +contumely. + +"I should like to spoil their party for them," the little creature +said to herself with a passionate vindictiveness, quite unusual with +her. "I have a great mind to play ghost, and frighten them all out of +the dancing-hall. It would not be a bit too bad for them, after their +meanness to me!" + +She had heard old Dinah say that Clare and Elinor were very much +afraid of the beautiful phantom of Glenalvan Hall. They would not have +ventured into the haunted suite alone for any amount of money. + +Clare had been heard to say that the very sight of the ghost would be +sufficient to strike her dead. + +Beautiful Golden, who was as changeful as the summer breeze, began to +laugh at the mischievous idea which had occurred to her. + +"What a fine joke it would be to personate poor Erma Glenalvan," she +thought. "How Clare and Elinor would fly from the festive scene when I +appeared, weeping and wringing my hands." + +She had heard the ghost described by Dinah, who averred that she had +seen it several times. + +She remembered the long, white robe, the flowing veil of golden +hair, the pearl necklace, the wondrous beauty, shining, as old Dinah +declared, like a star. + +The beauty, the youth, the veil of golden hair she had. But the dress +and the pearls. Where should she find them? + +An old wardrobe which had once belonged, no doubt, to the love-lorn +Erma, stood against the wall. Golden pulled the door open, not without +some little fear, and looked in at the collection of moth-eaten dresses +that hung on the pegs. + +She could not tell whom they belonged to, for she had never looked into +the wardrobe before, but she guessed that they were very old, for a +cloud of dust rose from them as the door flew open, and as she touched +them with her hand, some of the folds fell into rents, and showed how +long they had been the prey of the moth. + +But as Golden pulled one after another down from the pegs and tossed +them into a rainbow heap on the floor, she came to one at last that +would serve her purpose. + +It was a long, white dress of rich, brocaded silk, yellowed by time, +antique in style, but tolerably well-preserved. + +Golden uttered a cry of delight, patting her little foot blithely to +the merry measure of the dance music. + +"The very thing," she cried, and then she shivered slightly. "Perhaps +it belonged to poor Erma," she thought. + +But in a few minutes Golden's blue gingham lay on the floor, and she +had slipped into the old brocade, and hooked it together. It fitted her +perfectly. + +The neck was low, and finished with a deep frill of fine, old, yellow +lace. The sleeves were short, and the dimpled shoulders and beautifully +moulded arms were exposed to the greatest advantage. + +Golden then took up the comb and brush and brushed her long, yellow +ringlets out of curl until they fell about her slender, graceful form +like a veil of summer sunshine. + +"If I only had the pearls, now, I might readily pass for the phantom," +she said, looking at the reflection of herself in the glass. "How nice +I look. This dress is quite becoming, I declare." + +As she turned round, admiring the long, soft, trailing folds of the +brocade, something rattled in what appeared to be the region of the +pocket. + +Golden ran her slim fingers into the pocket, and they encountered a +rent between the lining and the material of the dress. + +Following the rent with her fingers to the very edge of the skirt, they +encountered something which she drew out and found to be a necklace of +large, gleaming, milk-white pearls. + +Golden uttered a cry of surprise and joy as she clasped the beautiful +treasure, so strangely found, around her firm, white throat. + + * * * * * + +In the dancing-room that night they had been talking of the Glenalvan +ghost. Elinor or Clare had taken a great deal of pains to let Bertram +Chesleigh know how grand and wealthy the Glenalvans had been before the +war, and especially they had been pleased to have him hear about the +beautiful phantom of the girl, Erma, who had died of a broken heart. + +Though they were afraid of her, and would not have willingly beheld her +for anything, they were proud of the _prestige_ of a family ghost. They +considered that only distinguished families ever had such visitations. + +Elinor told him the pretty legend she had heard from a superstitious +old servant. She said the phantom would fly if anyone approached her, +but if she could once be overtaken and kissed by a very handsome man +she would rest in her grave and walk no more. + +But it was confidently asserted that no one could accomplish such a +feat, for the phantom flew before every pursuer as if fear lent it +wings. + +"If you could catch and kiss her, Mr. Chesleigh, I think the ghost +would be forever laid," said Clare Glenalvan, with a simper, and +affected laugh. + +"Thank you, Miss Clare," said Bertram Chesleigh, with a bow, though he +was inwardly disgusted. He knew that he was a very handsome man. + +His mirror had told him so, but he did not admire Clare's forwardness +in telling him of it so plainly. + +The merry dance went on. The subject of the Glenalvan ghost had passed +from the minds of the dancers when suddenly the music, which had been +filling the air with sweetness, came to a dead stop. + +All the dancers looked toward the door where the band was stationed, +for the cause of the silence. + +The performers had dropped their instruments, and were staring +open-mouthed at a vision in the wide, open doorway that opened from +a long dark, corridor--a vision clearly outlined against the outer +darkness, and plainly seen by all in the room--a girlish form in +sweeping, white robes and falling, golden hair, the beautiful face, +convulsed with woe and pain, the white arms extended, the small hands +clasping and unclasping each other in gestures of infinite despair. + +"The Glenalvan ghost!" ran from lip to lip in a murmur of awe and +terror, while timid young girls clung shrieking to their partners, and +the utmost confusion prevailed. + +Elinor Glenalvan tried to faint in the arms of Bertram Chesleigh, but +he put her hastily into a chair and said quickly: + +"Miss Glenalvan, I am going to earn your everlasting gratitude. I shall +kiss the beautiful Erma, and the Glenalvan ghost will be forever laid." + +He sprang toward the doorway, but in that moment the beautiful phantom +turned and fled precipitately before him. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It had not entered into little Golden's plan for the discomfiture of +her scornful cousins, that anyone would have the temerity to approach +her in her character of the Glenalvan ghost. On the contrary, she had +confidently expected to spread fear, dismay and confusion among the +festive guests, and to effect her own escape unmolested and unsuspected. + +What was her surprise and dismay to see a tall, dark, handsome man +start from Elinor's side, and cross the room toward her with the +evident purpose of accosting her! + +Beautiful Golden was filled with fear and alarm. She turned swiftly and +fled down the long, dark corridor, her heart beating with dread lest +she should be overtaken and identified by her pursuer. + +She thought of her grandfather's grief and mortification if he should +find out her girlish prank, and of her stern uncle's wrathful anger. + +These swift thoughts seemed to lend wings to her light feet. She flew +rather than ran down the dark hall, but her rapid heart-beats could not +drown the quick and steady footsteps of her pursuer. They seemed to +come nearer and gain upon her. + +To gain her own rooms in the western wing Golden would be compelled to +go up a wide stairway leading directly from the corridor in which she +was then running. + +It dawned on her mind in the whirl of thoughts that rushed over her, +that it would be very unwise to return to the haunted rooms just then. +She believed that she would undoubtedly be pursued and captured if she +did. + +It occurred to her that her best plan would be to escape into the open +air and hide herself in the belt of thick, dense shrubbery that grew +below the lake. + +She knew every bend and turn, and secret nook within it. Her pursuer +did not. She could baffle him there. + +Inspired by what seemed to her a happy thought, Golden flew past the +wide staircase and gained the outer door. + +She flashed down the marble steps outside, and struck breathlessly +across the green lawn. + +But swift and breathless as her flight had been, she had "a foe-man +worthy of her steel." Bertram Chesleigh had never faltered in his swift +pursuit of the supposed phantom. + +If such a thing were indeed possible, he meant to capture the flying +form, and kiss the face whose beauty had struck him even through its +tragic expression of sorrow and despair. + +He was light-footed and swift, and inspired by the novelty of the +chase. He was determined to keep his word to the handsome Elinor, if +possible. + +He went over the marble steps at one flying bound that gained him a +great advantage over Golden. As he followed her over the lawn he was so +near that the frightened girl could hear his quick, panting breath, and +dreaded every moment to feel his outstretched hands clutch her white +shoulder. + +It was a lovely night. The moon was at its full. Its white radiance +touched everything with weird beauty. It shone on the leaves, the +flowers, and the grass, and made the dew-drops glitter like diamonds. + +Golden's white brocade shone with a silvery gleam as she fled through +the moonlight, her white arms and neck gleamed like ivory through the +golden mist of her streaming hair. + +She had crossed the green expanse of the lawn in safety. Her light feet +struck into the path by the lake. When once she had crossed that path +she would be into the shrubbery. She felt sure that she might mislead +the determined follower then. + +But the race had been an unequal one. That flying leap over the flight +of marble steps had decided the contest in the man's favor. + +Scarce a minute more and the dreaded touch fell on her shoulder, two +strong arms were passed quickly around her waist, her head was drawn +back against a manly breast, and to Golden's horror and consternation, +she felt a pair of warm, mustached lips pressed fully and passionately +upon her own. + +"Lovely Erma, may your spirit rest in peace after this fond kiss of +love," he cried; and Golden, trying vainly to struggle out of his +clasp, lifted her eyes and saw a dark, splendid, handsome face gazing +into her own, with large, black eyes that were full of eager admiration +and sparkled with pleasant excitement. + +"Let me go!" she cried, with her blue eyes full of angry tears, "let me +go! How dared you--oh, how dared you _kiss_ me?" + +But the strong arms held her fast, although Bertram Chesleigh began +to realize that it was not a phantom, but a real creature of flesh and +blood he had kissed so warmly. + +He held her fast, and looked down with a smile into the girlish face +that was so very beautiful even through the crimson flush of anger. + +"Do not be angry," he said. "You should be glad that I have kissed you." + +"Why should I be glad?" she demanded, in a sharp, imperious little +voice. + +The dark eyes of little Golden's captor sparkled with mirth at her +indignant question. + +"They told me up yonder at the hall," he replied, "that if a handsome +man could catch and kiss the Glenalvan ghost its wandering spirit would +be laid forever. Do you think that you can rest easy in your grave now, +beautiful Erma?" + +Golden wrenched herself from his clasp, but he still held her so +tightly by one hand that she could not leave him. She looked at him +with bright eyes in which anger and reluctant mirth were strangely +blended. His quaint humor was infectious. + +"Do you think yourself so very handsome, sir?" she demanded. + +"A lady told me so this evening," he replied, unblushingly. "One must +always take a lady's word, must not one, fair Erma?" + +"I am not Erma," she replied, impetuously; "I am only Golden." + +"Golden! What a beautiful name!" cried Golden's captor. +"Golden--_what_?" + +"Golden Glenalvan," she replied. + +"That is prettier still," he said; then he looked at her more closely. +"Are you any kin to Clare and Elinor?" + +"Yes; we are cousins," the girl replied, frankly. + +She forgot how strange it was for her to be standing there talking to +this stranger from whom she had been desperately fleeing a moment ago. + +But the dark, mesmeric eyes held her gaze with a luring power; the +warm, soft hand that clasped her own, sent strange thrills of tingling +sweetness through every nerve. + +When she had looked at the dark, handsome, smiling face once she liked +to look at it again. She forgot to feel afraid of him. + +They were standing on the border of the lake. The moonlight made it +shine like a sheet of silver; but Bertram Chesleigh had no eyes for its +beauty while the fair, fresh face of that innocent girl was lifted to +his. + +He said to himself that in all his life he had never seen anyone half +so lovely. + +"And you are not a ghost, after all?" he said. + +"No; I was only masquerading," she replied. "I did it to frighten my +cousins and spoil their party. Do you think I have succeeded?" she +inquired, with _naive_ anxiety. + +He looked a little surprised. + +"I do not know, I am sure," he said. "Why did you wish to spoil their +pleasure?" + +"Because they would not invite me to go, and said cruel things to me, +besides," answered Golden, with a heaving breast. + +"Why would they not invite you?" he inquired, more surprised than ever. + +"Elinor said I was _too young_, but I should sooner think that grandpa +guessed the true reason!" she replied with innocent frankness. + +"What did grandpa guess?" he inquired. + +"They were afraid for Uncle John's rich guest to see me. They mean to +marry him to Elinor," she replied, readily, and without a suspicion +that it was the "rich guest" himself who held her small hand that +moment so warmly and tightly in his own. + +Bertram Chesleigh laughed long and merrily, and the little girl awoke +to a sense of her imprudence. + +"Oh? I should not have talked to you so," she cried. "They will be very +angry. Oh, please don't tell anyone I was the ghost! Grandpa would +scold me, and I could not bear that." + +At that moment the murmur of voices and laughter was borne to them on +the breeze from the hall door. + +"Your friends are coming to look for you," she cried. "Oh! _do_ let go +my hand. I must hide myself. You will not betray my secret?" + +"No; I will keep it faithfully, Golden," he replied, then he kissed her +small hand and released her, for he did not wish his friends to find +him with her. + +She darted away like a bird, and hid herself in the shrubbery. The +young man lighted a cigar and turned back to meet his friends. + +"Did you catch the ghost? Did you kiss her?" they asked him, eagerly. + +"I was never so outwitted in my life," he replied. "Would you believe +it if I should tell you that I pursued her across the lawn to the +border of the lake, and that just as I might have touched her with my +hand she sprang into the water and not a ripple on the surface showed +where she had gone down?" + +This clever and non-committal reply was accepted as a statement of +facts by the credulous. The romantic story spread from one to another +rapidly. + +Bertram Chesleigh found himself quite a hero a few minutes after he had +returned to the house. But though they praised his bravery, everyone +chaffed him because he had failed to get the kiss from the beautiful +phantom. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"Father, where is Golden this morning?" + +Old Hugh Glenalvan looked up with a frightened start as his son came +into his presence with a stern brow and heavy footstep. + +It was the morning after the Glenalvans' little party, and the old man +was sitting in the sunny bay-window, thinking of his little sunbeam, as +he called her lovingly in his thoughts. + +Old Dinah had been in and brought him a message to say that she was +very lonely and wished her grandpa to come and see her and bring her a +bunch of roses. He was just thinking of doing so, when John Glenalvan +came frowningly into his presence. + +"Father, where is Golden this morning?" he asked, sharply, and the old +man trembled with fear of, he knew not what, as he replied: + +"She is up in the haunted rooms where you told me to put her, John." + +"Come with me. I wish to see her," he said, and the old man's face grew +ashen pale as he asked: + +"What is the matter? Has Golden done anything, John?" + +"You will know soon enough," was the short reply; and full of +apprehension the old man led the way to his granddaughter's room. + +Beautiful Golden was walking up and down the dreary chamber, impatient +as a captive bird. She started, and grew very pale as she caught sight +of her Uncle John's stern face. She did not speak to him, but ran up to +her grandfather and kissed his poor, old, wrinkled cheek. + +"Good-morning, dear grandpa," she said. "I am very lonely. I miss you +so much. Did black mammy tell you to bring me some roses?" + +"Yes, dear, but I did not have the time," said the grandfather, +with a tremulous voice, and stealing a glance at his son. For some +inexplicable reason he stood in great fear of him. + +"Have done with such foolish chat, girl," broke in John Glenalvan, +roughly. "So you played the ghost last night, eh, miss?" + +Golden gave a violent start, and clung to her grandfather. She +trembled, and her sweet lips grew very pale. + +"You need not deny it. Your looks betray your guilt," continued John +Glenalvan, roughly. + +"No, no, my Golden would not have done such a thing," cried her +grandfather, warmly. "Who says that she did?" + +Golden looked anxiously into her uncle's face as that question left the +old man's lips. Her heart fell at the thought that the handsome man who +had kissed her by the lake, had betrayed her to her merciless uncle. + +But his next word relieved her from the dread. + +"I say so myself," he replied. "I saw and recognized her myself, as did +Clare and Elinor also. She came and stood in the hall doorway where +they were dancing, tricked out like the ghost of Erma Glenalvan. Deny +it if you dare, miss!" + +The girl's quick temper flamed up at his harsh manner. + +"I do not wish to deny it," she cried defiantly. "I did it, and I +frightened all your fine company, too! I am very glad of it." + +John Glenalvan sprang toward her with upraised hand as though he would +strike her, but she stepped quickly out of his reach, and he said, with +sullen rage: + +"You hear the little Jezebel, father. Take care, take care that I do +not put my long-pending threat into execution." + +"John, she is but a playful child," he pleaded, pitifully. "She meant +no harm, I am sure. Oh, Golden, my darling! why did you do it?" + +"To spite the girls, grandpa, for their cruelty to me," she replied, +"but I am very sorry now, since it has grieved you so. Believe me, +grandpa, I did not think you would ever hear of it. Can you forgive +me?" she pleaded, wistfully. + +"You must ask your uncle's forgiveness, not mine, my dear," was the +tremulous reply. + +"I will not ask his pardon," she replied, stoutly, her blue eyes +flashing, and the color flaming into her cheeks, "I am sorry to have +displeased you, grandpa, dear, but I do not in the least care for +anyone else whether they are offended or not." + +"Where did you get the fine toggery you wore last night?" demanded John +Glenalvan, his fingers tingling with the impulse to slap the fair, +defiant face. + +"That is no concern of yours," she replied, resentfully. + +"Tell me, dear," whispered old Hugh, intent on preserving a semblance +of peace if it were possible. + +Golden threw open the door of the wardrobe and showed him the brocade, +which looked very yellow and old in the clear light of day. + +"She had a necklace of pearls around her neck," said John, in an artful +aside to his father. + +"Did you, Golden?" asked her grandfather. + +Golden went to the little toilet-table and took up the costly necklace +which John Glenalvan instantly snatched from her hand and placed in his +pocket. + +Golden looked at him, tearful, dismayed, and excessively angry. + +"Give them back to me," she cried. "They are mine! I found them--indeed +I did, grandpa. They had fallen through a hole in the pocket of the +dress into the skirt lining. They are mine, and you shall give them +back to me, Uncle John." + +"I will show you whether I will or not," he replied. "The necklace +belongs to me. Everything in the house belongs to me, as well as the +estate itself. You only have a home on sufferance here. Take care that +you do not lose that." + +"Is it true, grandpa?" asked Golden, and the old man nodded sadly. + +John Glenalvan took down the white brocade, and carried it away in a +compact bundle under his arm. + +"I shall take this away," he said, "to make sure that you do not play +any more disgraceful tricks upon us. I depend upon you, father, to see +that she keeps to this room, and behaves herself for the remainder of +the week. If she does not, I emphatically assure you that you both will +suffer through her willfulness and disobedience!" + +"I will promise for her," said the old man, putting his hand over +Golden's pouting and rebellious mouth. "She will not be naughty any +more!" + +"See that she keeps the promise," his son replied, sternly, as he +turned away. + +He went to Elinor's _boudoir_ where he found his two daughters +quarreling over Bertram Chesleigh. + +"I tell you he admires me the most," exclaimed the elder girl, +angrily, just as her father threw the necklace and the brocade into her +lap, and said, triumphantly: + +"Here is the finery the ghost wore, my dears. Divide it between you." + +The brocade was thrown down in disgust, but a pitched battle ensued +over the pearl necklace. + +"I am the elder, and I am determined to have it," cried Elinor, +resolutely. + +"I shall have it myself, if I perish in the effort," retorted Clare. + +A wordy war ensued, from which John Glenalvan, to whom it was nothing +new, retreated in disgust. + +The contest was ended at last by the handsome Elinor's boxing the ears +of her sister, and taking possession of the spoil on the barbarous +principle of "might is right." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +"Did I dream the whole thing?" said Bertram Chesleigh to himself, +"or was it, indeed, only a ghost that I kissed on the border of the +lake? Do ghosts have warm, living flesh and blood, and balmy lips, and +blushes that come and go, and delicious little tempers, and the power +to thrill one's nerves with quivering darts of fire? Have I lost my +heart to a phantom?" + +He might well ask himself these questions. A day and night had gone +since the Glenalvans had their little party, and so far he had been +unable to learn anything at all concerning the beautiful girl whom all +but himself believed to have been the ghost of the dead Erma Glenalvan. + +As he had promised to keep little Golden's secret inviolate, he could +of course make no opening inquiries, but his little, careless, artful +speeches, and innocent inquiries all failed of effect. + +He could learn nothing of the maid whose beauty and grace had literally +carried his heart by storm. It seemed quite plain that she did not live +in the house. + +It was equally certain that she did not reside in the neighborhood, +for his friend, young Fred Glenalvan, had often assured him that his +father's family were the only living descendants of the once numerous +race. + +Mr. Chesleigh asked himself if there was indeed a mystery, or if he had +been fooled by an elfish spirit from the world of shadows. + +His heart and his reason answered in the negative. It was a human +being, warm, breathing, living, whom he had clasped and kissed that +night. His veins tingled with electric fire at the remembrance. + +Alone in his room the second night after his rencontre with the ghost, +Bertram Chesleigh walked up and down restlessly, half mad with himself +that he should dwell so persistently on that one thought, yet finding +it so dangerously sweet he would not willingly have forgotten it. +It seemed to him that he had never really lived till now, when this +romantic passion for the beautiful unknown fired his heart. + +Elinor and Clare had been very much frightened at the appearance of the +family ghost. They talked about it in low, awe-struck whispers. + +When Bertram Chesleigh expressed a desire to visit the haunted suite +of rooms they expressed themselves as horrified, and declared that the +rooms of the hapless Erma had been walled up long years before, and +that all the rooms of the western wing were in such a ruinous condition +that it was exceedingly dangerous to venture there at all. + +They declared that their father had engaged workmen to pull down the +western wing on account of its precarious condition. + +But singularly enough Bertram Chesleigh's thoughts were running on the +haunted rooms almost continuously to-night. Everything connected with +the Glenalvan ghost had a deep interest for him. + +Some impulse impelled him to visit the western wing. + +He knew that the wide hall on which his room door opened had a corridor +leading from it into the ruined western wing of the hall. + +Some impulse stronger than his will, some "spirit in his feet," +tempted him forth under cover of the silence and the night to explore +the dangerous region in the vague hope of finding some trace of the +mysterious ghost of last night. + +To have met her again he would have dared even more threatening dangers +than the settling timbers and falling roof which Fred, and Clare and +Elinor were unanimous in declaring menaced everyone who entered the +decaying portion of the hall. + +Softly shod in his velvet slippers, he opened the door and peered out +into the long hall. + +It was lighted by long windows at either end, through which the +moonlight poured a flood of white radiance. Putting a convenient box of +matches into the pocket of his dressing-gown, he sallied boldly forth. + +Whether ghost or human, he longed to encounter the beautiful girl he +loved again. + +He entered the long corridor and walked along softly, guided by the +moonlight that entered through the windows and lay in fantastic shadows +upon the floor. + +He found that the building was in a ruinous condition indeed. The rooms +into which he looked were dismantled and bare, the papering hung in +ragged, fantastic strips from the walls; huge rats scampered over the +floor, frightened night-birds flapped against the windows with wild, +unearthly noises. Surely, the place was well-fitted to be the abode of +ghosts and shadows, it was so weird and uncanny. + +But Bertram Chesleigh held on his way undauntedly. It seemed to him +that he had explored every room on that upper floor, when suddenly he +discovered a little passage down which he turned and found himself in +front of a closed door. + +The majority of the doors had stood open, swinging carelessly on their +hinges. + +The midnight explorer did not know why his heart beat so strangely when +he stood before this closed one. + +He turned the handle noiselessly, and entered, carefully closing the +door behind him. + +In the large and lofty apartment, where he now found himself, a dim and +shaded night-lamp was burning, thick, dark curtains shaded the windows, +a large rug covered the center of the floor, a low, white cottage-bed +stood in the furthest corner, draped in neat and spotless white. + +Then the midnight explorer started, and with difficulty repressed the +cry that rose to his lips. + +For the soft, white counterpane thrown over the bed, outlined the +curves of an exquisite, girlish form. + +On the white, ruffled pillow nestled a sleeping face as lovely as a +budding rose. + +The round, white arms were thrown carelessly up above her head, the +wealth of curling, golden hair, strayed in rich confusion over the +pillow; the golden-brown lashes lay softly on the rosy, dimpled cheeks; +the lips were smiling as if some happy dream stirred the white breast +that rose and fell so softly over the innocent heart. + +"Ghost or human?" Bertram Chesleigh asked himself, as he gazed in +astonishment and ecstacy at the beautiful, unconscious sleeper. + +He came nearer with noiseless footsteps and bated breath to the +bedside. He bent so near that he could hear the soft, sweet breath that +fluttered over the parted lips. + +"It is she," he said to himself, with mingled rapture and amaze. + +Then, in the next breath, he murmured: + +"I must beat a quiet retreat. How frightened and angry she would be, +were she to awake and find me here!" + +He was one of the purest and most honorable minded men in the world. + +He turned to go, but could not tear his fascinated eyes from that +beautiful, child-like, sleeping face. + +His splendid black eyes lingered on its innocent beauty in passionate +admiration. + +"If I might only touch that little hand that lies so near me on the +pillow, it would cool the thirst of my heart," he said wistfully to +himself, while his heart beat fast with joy that he had found her +again, this lovely creature of whom he had dreamed night and day for +twenty-four hours. + +He looked at the sweetly-smiling, parted lips, and his pulses thrilled +at the remembrance of the tender caress he had pressed upon them such a +short while before. + +Carried away by the force of as pure and mad a passion as ever thrilled +the heart of man, the enraptured lover bent his head and pressed a kiss +as soft and light as the fall of a rose-leaf on the white hand that lay +so temptingly near him. + +He meant to go then, but as he lifted his head, blushing with shame +at the temptation that had prompted him to that wrongful and stolen +caress, a sharp indignant voice fell on his ears with the suddenness of +a thunder-clap. + +"Oh, you black-hearted wilyun--you wicked betrayer of innercence! Get +out o' this afore I kill you with my own hands, you han'some debbil!" + +Bertram Chesleigh turned and saw a ludicrous, yet startling sight +framed in the open doorway of an inner chamber which in his agitation, +he had not noticed before. + +Old Black Dinah, who was the color of ebony and very tall and lean, +stood before him, clad in a short night-gown of gay, striped cotton +from which her slim legs and arms stuck out like bean-poles. + +Her stubbly, gray wool seemed to stand erect on her head with horror, +and her brandished arms, snapping black eyes, and furious face, made up +a startling picture of wrath and horror, strangely combined with the +ludicrous. + +"You black-hearted wilyun!" old Dinah repeated, advancing angrily upon +her dismayed foe, "get out o' de room o' my innercent lamb afore she +wakes and finds you here, you wolf!" + +"I beg your pardon--I stumbled into this room by the merest accident," +Chesleigh was beginning to say, when, startled by Dinah's loud and +angry tones, little Golden awoke, and flashed the light of her wide +blue eyes upon their excited faces. + +She uttered a cry of fear and terror when she saw the tall, manly form +standing in the room. + +Old Dinah ran to her instantly, and she hid her frightened face on the +shoulder of the old black woman. + +"Black mammy, what does all this mean?" cried the girl, nervously. + +Dinah gave a prolonged and lugubrious groan, and rolled up the whites +of her eyes in reply. The intruder saw that it was imperative that he +should stay long enough to explain matters to the alarmed girl. + +He said to himself that no one had ever been placed in such a strange +and embarrassing position before. + +Every instinct of delicacy and respect for the young girl prompted +him to retire at once; yet he could not bear to go and leave a wrong +impression on the mind of the beautiful girl whom he admired so much. + +He retreated to the door, and, standing there, said, anxiously and +respectfully: + +"I entreat you to believe, Miss Glenalvan, that I entered here with no +wrongful motive. Led by a fit of curiosity, I was exploring the ruined +wing of the hall, and I entered without a dream of finding it occupied +by any living being. I had been led to believe that these rooms were +totally unoccupied, and were even unsafe to enter. Will you accept my +apology?" + +Little Golden's head was still hidden against Dinah's shoulder, and the +old woman broke out sharply and quickly: + +"Honey, chile, don't you go for to 'cept dat wilyun's 'pology! Ef he +done really cum in dis room by accident, he would agone out ag'in when +he found dat a young lady occupied de room. But no; de first sight my +ole brack eyes saw when I jumped off my pallet and come to de door was +dat strange man a-kissin' you, my precious lamb." + +Golden began to sob, and Mr. Chesleigh mentally anathematized the old +woman's long tongue that had thus betrayed the secret he had intended +to keep so carefully. + +His face grew scarlet as he hastened to say: + +"I kissed your hand, Miss Glenalvan, and I entreat your pardon for +yielding to that overmastering temptation. Can you forgive me?" + +But Golden was still weeping bitterly, and old Dinah, in her fear and +indignation for her darling, pointed quickly to the door. + +"Go," she said. "Don't you see how you frighten the chile by staying?" + +There seemed nothing to be gained by staying. The old woman was utterly +unreasonable, and Golden was so agitated she could not speak. + +The embarrassed intruder silently withdrew to his own apartment, where +he spent the night brooding over the strange discovery he had made and +the unpleasant position in which he had placed himself. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"Honey, chile, where did you git 'quainted wid dat ondecent man?" +inquired old Dinah of her nursling, as soon as Mr. Chesleigh had +quitted the room. + +"What makes you think I am acquainted with him, mammy?" inquired the +child in surprise. + +Dinah shook her woolly head sagely. + +"Don't try to deceabe your ole brack mammy, my lamb," she said. "He +called you Missie Glenalvan--do you think I didn't notice that?" + +Golden's pretty cheeks grew scarlet with blushes. + +"I shall have to 'form your grandpa of what he done, the impident +wilyun!" continued Dinah, emphatically. + +"Oh, black mammy, please don't tell," cried the girl impulsively. "You +heard what he said--it was a mere accident, I am quite, quite sure he +meant no harm." + +"Ole massa shall be de jedge o' dat," replied Dinah decidedly. "I'll +miss my guess if de ole man don't put a pistol-hole frew my fine, +han'some gentleman!" + +"Oh, black mammy! then you shall not tell," cried Golden in terror. +"Indeed, indeed, he is not the wicked man you believe him. He has kept +my secret for me, and I must keep his now. That would only be fair." + +"Ah, den you _do_ know him," cried Dinah, horrified. "Tell me all about +it dis minute, if you know what's best for you, chile." + +Golden did not resent the old nurse's tone of authority. She knew the +old woman's love for her too well. She dried her eyes and reluctantly +related her escapade two nights before. + +"He kept my secret," she concluded, "and it would not be fair for us to +make trouble for him, would it, black mammy?" + +Old Dinah had slipped down to the floor, and sat with her long, black +arms clasped around her knees, looking up into her nursling's eager, +fearful face, with a good deal of trouble in her keen, black eyes. + +The old woman was shrewd and intelligent in her way. She foresaw +trouble, and perhaps the bitterest sorrow from these two meetings +between the handsome guest of John Glenalvan and the young mistress. + +"Black mammy, promise me you will not tell grandpa," Golden pleaded. "I +will do anything you ask me if only you will not tell him." + +Thereupon Dinah announced her ultimatum. + +"If you will promise me never to speak to the strange gentleman again, +little missie, I will not tell ole massa." + +Golden opened wide her blue eyes. She looked very lovely as she leaned +back among the snowy, ruffled pillows, her golden hair straying loosely +about her shoulders, her cheeks tinted with a deep, warm blush, her +little hands nervously clasping and unclasping each other. + +"Black mammy, I think you are very cross to-night," she pouted. "Why +should I never speak to the handsome gentleman again?" + +"Because it's best for you. Ole brack mammy knows better dan you, +chile." + +"But I liked him so much," said Golden, blushing rosy red. + +"You had no business to like him," responded Dinah. "He's to marry Miss +Elinor." + +"I do not believe it," said Golden, quickly. + +"He's not for you, anyway," retorted Dinah. "You'll nebber marry no +one, my dear." + +"Why not?" asked the child. "Will nobody ever love me?" + +"Nobody'll ever love ye like your grandpa, honey, and 'taint likely dat +ever he will give ye away to anyone." + +Golden was silent a moment. She seemed to be thinking intently. After a +moment she said gravely and sadly: + +"Grandpa is old, and I am young. Who will take care of me when he is +gone?" + +"Your old brack mammy, I guess, honey." + +"You are old, too," said Golden. "You may not live as long as I do." + +"Bless the chile's heart, how she _do_ talk," said the old negress. +"Ah, my precious lamb, I has outlived dem as was younger and fairer dan +ole black Dinah." + +The old black face looked very sad for a moment, then Dinah continued: + +"Little missie, it's my clair duty to tell old massa de sarcumstances +of the case to-morrow morning. Leastwise, unless you promise me nebber +to speak to dat man ag'in." + +"That is very hard," sighed Golden. + +"Hard," said Dinah. "I should think you would be so mad at the wilyun, +a-comin' in and kissin' you so unceremonious, dat you would nebber want +to speak to him any more." + +Golden hid her face in the pillows, and a deep sigh fluttered over her +lips. + +"Come, dearie, won't you promise?" said Dinah. "I knows what's for your +good better dan you does yourself, chile." + +"Must I promise it, indeed?" sighed the innocent child, lifting her +flushed face from the pillow a moment to fix her big, blue, imploring +eyes on the old woman's obdurate face. + +"Yes, you must sartainly promise it," was the uncompromising reply. + +There was silence for a moment, and Dinah saw the tears come into the +sweet, blue eyes. + +"Honey, chile, does you promise me?" she inquired, only confirmed in +the opinion by this demonstration. + +"Yes, I promise not to speak to him unless you give me leave, black +mammy," replied Golden, with quivering lips. + +"That's right, darling. Mammy can depend on your word. Lie down, and go +to sleep, honey, and I'll fetch my pallet in yere, and sleep on de flo' +by your bedside, so that no one kin 'trude on you ag'in." + +The girl laid her fair head silently on the pillow, and Dinah threw +down a quilt on the floor and rolled herself in it. She was soon +snoring profoundly. + +Not so with beautiful Golden. It was quite impossible for her to sleep +again. She shut her eyelids resolutely, but the busy, beautiful brain +was too active to admit of her losing consciousness again. She lay +thinking of the splendid, dark-eyed stranger. + +"He has kissed me twice," she whispered to her heart, "and yet I do not +even know his name. I wonder if I shall ever see him again. I hope I +shall." + +As she remembered how earnestly he had apologized for his presence in +her room, she could not believe him the wicked villain old Dinah had so +loudly represented him. + +"He is handsome, and I believe that he is good," the girl said to +herself, "and they tell me Elinor wants to marry him; I would like to +marry him myself, just to spite my cousins." + +Poor little Golden! Her spite against her cousins was almost as old as +her years. They had always hated her, and Golden had been quick to find +it out and resent it. + +She had a quick and fiery temper, but it did not take her long to +repent of her little fits of passion. + +She was a bright, winsome, lovable child. It was a wonder that anyone +could hate her for her beautiful, innocent life. + +Yet there were those who did, and it was beginning to dawn vaguely on +the mind of the girl that it was so. She knew that her life was passed +differently from that of the other girls of her age and class. + +There were no teachers, no companions, no pleasures for her, and no +promise of any change in the future. + +She wondered a little why it was so, but she never complained to her +grandfather. It was, perhaps, only his way, she said to herself, little +dreaming of the dark mystery that lay like a deep, impassible gulf +between her and the dwellers in the outside world of which she knew so +very, very little. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +A week elapsed, and there seemed but little prospect of the little +prisoner's release from the haunted chambers of the ruined wing. + +The Glenalvans' guest lingered on, fascinated, it appeared, by the +attractions of the beautiful Elinor. At least Elinor stoutly maintained +this fact in the privacy of the family circle, while Clare as +obstinately persisted that Mr. Chesleigh was perfectly impartial in his +attentions to both. + +But however doubtful was Elinor's impression, the fact remained that he +was pleased with his visit. + +He consented by their urgent invitation to prolong his stay another +week. The girls were jubilant over his decision. + +Meanwhile, old Dinah watched her secluded nursling with unremitting +vigilance. She could not remain with her all day, because her +housekeeping duties took her constantly into the lower part of the +house, but she visited her intermittently, and at night rolled herself +in a thick counterpane and slept on the floor by the side of Golden's +couch. + +She took the added precaution to turn the rusty key in the lock at +night. + +Old Dinah had never heard the familiar adage that "love laughs at +locksmiths." + +She was ordinarily a very sound and healthy sleeper. The mere accident +of a rheumatic attack, and consequent sleeplessness, had caused her +appearance the night Mr. Chesleigh had entered the room. + +Usually she might have been lifted, counterpane and all, and carried +away bodily without being aware of it. + +Nearly two weeks after the night of her rencontre with Mr. Chesleigh, +old Dinah awoke suddenly "in the dead waste and middle of the night," +seized in the relentless grip of her old enemy, the rheumatism. + +She rolled herself out of her quilt and sat upright, groaning +dolorously, and rubbing her knees in which the pain had settled. + +"Oh, Lordy! oh, Lordy!" she groaned, "how my ole bones does ache! Miss +Golden! Miss Golden! my precious lam', wake up, and bid your ole brack +mammy a las' far'well. I'm a-dyin', sartin, shuah!" + +But Golden, usually a very light sleeper, made no reply. Dinah reared +her woolly head upward and looked into the bed. + +The bed was _empty_. + +Then Dinah looked around her in amazement to see if Golden was not +in the room, laughing at her lugubrious groans as she had often done +before. But she saw no trace of her young mistress. + +"Miss Golden! Miss Golden!" she called, "is you in de udder room? Ef +you is, come in here! I'se berry sick, honey, almos' a-dyin'." + +But her repeated calls elicited no reply. It appeared that pretty +Golden was out of sight and hearing. + +Suddenly old Dinah saw the dainty, white, ruffled night-dress, in +which Golden had retired that night, lying in a snowy heap upon the +floor. + +Dinah seized upon the garment and shook it vigorously, as if she +expected to see the slight form of her young mistress drop from its +folds to the floor. + +"Um--me-e-e," she groaned, "has de sperets carried de chile off?" + +She glanced up at the row of pegs where she had hung Golden's few +articles of apparel. Her best dress--a dark-blue cashmere--was gone, +also her hat and a summer jacket. + +"She hab runned away from us," old Dinah exclaimed, with almost a howl +of despair. + +The thought inspired her with such grief and terror that she forgot +her ailment entirely. She hobbled out from the room and made her way +down stairs to her master's apartment and burst into his presence--a +ludicrous object indeed in her striped cotton bed-gown. + +Old Hugh Glenalvan, late as it was, had not retired to bed. Wrapped +in an old wadded dressing-gown he sat in an easy-chair before an old, +carved oaken cabinet. + +One quaint little drawer was open, and the white-haired old man +was poring over some simple treasures he had taken from it--simple +treasures, yet dearer to his heart than gold or precious stones--a few +old photographs, an old-fashioned ambrotype in an ebony case, a thin, +gold ring and some locks of hair. + +Upon this sad and touching picture of memory and tenderness old Dinah's +grotesque figure broke startlingly. + +"Ole massa! ole massa!" she cried, wildly, "has you seen little missie? +Is she here with you?" + +The old man swept his treasures off his knees into the quaint cabinet +and looked at his old servant in amazement. + +"Dinah, what does this startling intrusion mean?" he inquired, pushing +his spectacles off his brow and regarding her with a mild frown. + +"Little Golden is missing. She hab runned away from us, ole massa!" +shouted Dinah, desperately. + +"Dinah, you must be crazy," repeated Mr. Glenalvan, blankly. + +"It's de Lard's truth, ole massa. She hab done followed in her mudder's +footsteps! Dat han'some man ober at John Glenalvan's has been and gone +and 'ticed our Golden from us," wailed the old negress, in despair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +It was not long before Mr. Glenalvan had heard the whole of Golden's +simple love-story from his servant. They were filled with horror and +grief at its too probable termination. + +"Dinah, it may be that she has stolen out into the grounds for a walk +in the fresh air. She was growing very restless with the close, indoor +confinement. Have you thought of that?" he said, hoping feebly against +hope. + +"Shall I go out and look for her, den, ole massa?" said Dinah, in a +tone that plainly betrayed her hopelessness. + +"Let us both go," said old Hugh. + +They sallied forth anxiously into the brilliant moonlight that lay in +silvery brightness all over the sweet, southern landscape--old Hugh, +bareheaded, in his tattered dressing-gown, old Dinah in her short +night-dress, too ridiculous a figure for anyone to contemplate without +inward mirth. + +It so happened that Elinor, whom the hard exigencies of poverty +compelled to be her own dressmaker, had sat up late that night to +complete some alterations in a dress in which she had intended to array +her fair self for the morrow. + +Having stitched on the last bit of lace, she went to the window and +leaned out to cool her heated brow. + +"My head aches, and I am almost melted with sewing by that hot lamp," +she said to herself, fretfully. "How I hate this poverty that grinds +one down so! When once I am married to Bertram Chesleigh I will never +touch a needle again! I will order all my dresses of Worth, of Paris. +And I _will_ marry Bertram Chesleigh! I swear it; and woe be to anyone +that tries to prevent me!" + +Her dark eyes flashed luridly a moment, and her white hand was angrily +clenched. + +She was thinking of Clare, who had persisted in rivaling her with Mr. +Chesleigh. + +At that moment the subdued murmur of voices floated up to her window +from the lawn. + +She glanced down quickly, and saw old Dinah and her master crossing the +lawn, their grotesque shadows flying long and dark before them in the +brilliant moonlight. + +Quick as thought Elinor was out of her seat, and gliding softly through +the door in quest of her father. + +Before old Glenalvan and his servant had crossed the lawn, two dark +figures stole forth from the hall and silently followed them. + + * * * * * + +On the green border of the silver lake two figures were standing in +the beautiful moonlight. One was a man, tall, dark, splendid, with a +princely beauty. + +His arm was thrown protectingly about a slender form that clung +lovingly to his side. + +It was Golden Glenalvan, dressed in a dark suit and light cloth jacket, +a neat, little walking-hat, set jauntily on her streaming, golden curls. + +Her blue eyes were lifted tenderly, and yet anxiously to her lover's +face. + +"Oh, Bert," she said, giving him the tender name by which he had taught +her to call him, "you must indeed let me go now. We have been saying +good-bye at least a half an hour." + +"Parting is such a sweet pain," said the lover, bending to kiss the +tempting, up-turned lips. "Give me just one more minute, my darling." + +"But I have been out so long," she objected, faintly. "What if black +mammy should awake and find me gone?" + +"There is not the slightest danger," said Bertram Chesleigh carelessly. +"The old woman sleeps so soundly that a thunder-clap would scarcely +wake her." + +But just at that moment of his fancied security, old Dinah, in Golden's +deserted chamber, was vigorously shaking her empty night-dress in a +dazed attempt to evolve from its snowy folds the strangely missing girl. + +Golden smiled, then sighed faintly. He kissed her lips before the sigh +had fairly breathed over them. + +"If you must indeed go, my darling," he said to her in a low voice, +freighted with passionate tenderness, "tell me once again, my little +Golden, how dearly you love me." + +"Love you," echoed the beautiful girl, and there was a Heaven of +tenderness in the starry blue eyes she raised to his face. "Oh, my +dearest, if I talked to you until the beautiful sun rose to-morrow, I +could not put my love into words. It is deep in my heart, and nothing +but death can ever tear it thence." + +She threw her arms around his neck, and their lips met in a long, +passionate kiss. There was a silence broken only by the soft sigh of +the rippling waves, while they stood + + "tranced in long embraces, + Mixed with kisses, sweeter, sweeter + Than anything on earth." + +On that hush of exquisite silence that brooded round them, broke +hastening footsteps and angry voices. + +The lovers started back from each other in dismay to find themselves +surrounded by an astonished group. + +Old Dinah formed a central and conspicuous figure, beyond which old +Hugh Glenalvan's silvery locks fluttered forlornly in the breeze. + +John Glenalvan and Elinor, his daughter, brought up the rear. Perhaps +the old gentleman and his servant were as much astonished at seeing +these followers as they were at the sight that met their eyes. + +Old Dinah recovered her self-possession first of all, perhaps because +she had vaguely suspected some such eclaircissement from the facts +already in her possession. + +She rushed forward and caught her disobedient nursling by the hand. + +"Oh, my darlin', my honey, chile," she cried. "Come away from dat +black-hearted wilyun to your grandpa and your ole brack mammy." + +But to the consternation of everybody, the girl shook Dinah's hand off, +and clung persistently to her lover. + +He drew his arm protectingly around the slight figure, and Golden cried +out with pretty, childish defiance: + +"He loves me! he loves me! and I will not leave him." + +That sight and those words fairly maddened Elinor Glenalvan. The blood +seemed to boil in her veins. + +"Loves you--ha! ha! loves you, the child of sin and shame!" she cried +out, in a hoarse voice of bitter scorn and passion. "Oh, yes, he loves +you. That is why he has lured you to your ruin, as a stranger did your +mother before you." + +"Hush, Elinor," said John Glenalvan, in his sternest tone; then he +looked at his father, who had crept to Golden's side, and stood there +trembling and speechless. "Father," he said, harshly, "take the girl +away. I must speak with Mr. Chesleigh alone." + +"I will not go," said Golden, and she looked up into her lover's face +with a strange, wistful pleading in her soft, blue eyes, and in her +sweet, coaxing lips. + +He bent down and whispered something that made her leave his side and +put her small hand gently into her grandfather's. + +"Grandpa, I will go home with you now," she said to him, tremulously, +and he led her away, followed by Dinah, who glared angrily behind her, +and muttered opprobrious invectives as she went. + +If looks could have killed, Bertram Chesleigh would never have lived to +figure any further in the pages of my romance. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +Bertram Chesleigh was left alone by the lake, with the angry eyes of +John Glenalvan glaring upon him, while Elinor, speechless with rage, +stood a little apart and watched him. + +"Mr. Chesleigh, may I ask the meaning of this singular scene?" inquired +his host, stiffly. + +Bertram Chesleigh, standing with folded arms in dignified silence, +opened his lips and said, briefly: + +"It means, Mr. Glenalvan, that I have made the acquaintance of your +niece and fallen in love with her." + +A threatening flash came into Elinor's eyes in the moonlight. She bit +her lips fiercely to keep back the words that rose to them. + +"I am sorry to hear that," said John Glenalvan, in a subdued voice. +Inwardly he was raging with anger, but he allowed no trace of it to +escape him. "Will you tell me where and how you became acquainted with +that child?" + +"I must decline to do so," said the young man, firmly. + +John Glenalvan looked around at his daughter. + +"Elinor, return to the house," he said. "I will join you there +presently." + +Elinor walked away, but she did not return to the hall as her father +had commanded. Instead, she hid herself behind a clump of willows, +where she could hear every word that passed between the two men. + +Some excited words ensued. Bertram Chesleigh was cool and calm. He +denied that John Glenalvan had any right to call him to account for +what he carelessly termed his innocent flirtation with little Golden. + +"From what I can hear," he said, "you have treated the girl both +cruelly and wrongfully. I stand ready to answer to Golden's grandfather +for any wrong he may consider I have done, but I shall make no apology +to you, Mr. Glenalvan." + +"Why, not?" said the man, with repressed passion. "The girl is my +niece!" + +"Yet you have wickedly secluded her from all society, and even debarred +her of her freedom," said Bertram Chesleigh, indignantly. "It is your +fault alone that she has been driven to seek the natural delights of +youth in a clandestine manner." + +"It is not my fault, but her mother's," said John Glenalvan, +significantly. + +His face grew pale as he spoke; his eyes strayed furtively to the quiet +lake, lying silvery and serene in the clear moonlight. + +"How? I do not understand you," said the other, haughtily. + +John Glenalvan hesitated a moment. When he spoke it was with an +affectation of deep feeling and manly sorrow. + +"Mr. Chesleigh," he said, "your unhesitating charge against me of +cruelty to my niece forces me to the disclosure of a most painful +family secret--one that I would fain have guarded from your knowledge. +There is a strong reason for my course toward Golden Glenalvan." + +He paused, and the listener said, hoarsely: + +"A reason----" then paused, because his voice had broken utterly. + +"Yes, a reason," was the bitter reply. "Mr. Chesleigh, little Golden is +the child of my own and only sister, but--how shall I tell you--she has +no right and no place in the world. She is _a nameless child_!" + +The solid earth seemed to reel beneath Mr. Chesleigh's feet. He +staggered back dizzily, and threw up his hands as if the man had struck +him. + +"He is proud. The blow tells fearfully," thought Elinor, watching him +through the trees with vindictive eyes. "Ah, my defiant Golden, your +last chance is gone now. He will never look at you again!" + +"Mr. Glenalvan, you do not mean it. You are but trying my credulity," +cried Bertram Chesleigh. + +"Is it likely that I would publish a falsehood to my own discredit?" +inquired the other. + +"No, no--but, oh, God, this is too dreadful to believe!" + +"Dreadful, but true," groaned John Glenalvan. "Golden is the child of +sin and shame. If I had had my way she would have been consigned to a +foundling asylum. But my father weakly insisted on rearing her himself, +and I was injudicious enough to permit it. The only stipulation I made +was that she should be kept away from the sight of the world as much as +possible. I see now that all precautions were useless. Young as she is, +the bad blood in her veins begins to show itself already in depraved +conduct." + +"Hush! do not censure her harmless meetings with me," said Bertram +Chesleigh, in a voice of agony. "The child is so pure and innocent she +has no idea of evil. I would die before I would wrong her!" + +"I am glad to hear you say so," said the other. "If you really mean it, +perhaps you will agree to relinquish your useless pursuit of her. You +would not be willing to marry her after what you have heard, I am quite +sure." + + * * * * * + +Meantime little Golden walked away with her grandfather, who stumbled +along like one in a painful dream, his gray head bowed as if beneath +the weight of sorrow, his footsteps faltering and slow. + +He had not spoken one word, and his silence impressed Golden with a +sense of her wrong-doing and disobedience far more than the loudest +reproaches could have done. + +She clung to his hand, weeping and sighing, and shivering silently at +old Dinah's muttered invectives against Mr. Chesleigh. + +Hugh Glenalvan spoke no words to his granddaughter until he had led her +into the house. + +Then he sank into his chair, and his gray head drooped upon his breast. + +Surprise and sorrow seemed to have deprived him of the power of speech. + +Golden knelt at his feet and laid her golden head upon his knee. + +"Grandpa, speak to me," she wailed. "Do not be angry with your little +Golden! Oh, grandpa, you have been so hard and strict with me; you have +kept me too secluded. If you had let me have freedom and happiness like +other girls, this never would have happened!" + +"Hush, little missie; you must not speak to ole massa like dat," cried +Dinah, trying to pull her away. "You don't know what you talkin' 'bout. +Come away till ole massa is well enough to talk to you 'bout dis fing." + +She lifted the girl and would have led her away, but the old man waved +his hand feebly to detain her, and so she placed her in a chair instead. + +Then she brought a glass of wine and poured a little between the white, +writhing lips of her old master. + +"Grandpa, speak to me!" wailed Golden again. + +Old Dinah looked at her almost sternly, and said abruptly: + +"You must let him alone, Miss Golden, you have enamost kilt him now, +with your badness and deceit." + +"Black mammy, you shall not speak to me so," cried the girl, +resentfully, and then the bright head drooped on the arm of the chair, +and she wept bitterly, more from fright at the condition of her +grandfather, than from any tangible sense of her own wrong-doing. + +She loved her grandfather dearly, and the sight of his suffering +stabbed her tender heart deeply. + +While she wept silently, old Dinah busied herself in anxious cares for +the old man. + +He seemed frozen into a statue of despair, sitting with his head bowed +forlornly, and his vacant eyes on the floor. + +But quite suddenly he roused himself and looked around him with a +heavy, hopeless gaze. + +"Dinah, leave me alone," he said, with unwonted impatience. "I am not +ill, or if I am it is with a sickness beyond mortal healing. Golden's +disobedience and her cruel, undeserved reproaches have broken my heart." + +Golden threw herself impulsively at his feet again. + +"Grandpa, forgive me," she wailed. "I shall die if you do not say that +you will pardon me!" + +He did not answer her. He only looked at his old black servant. + +"Dinah, you may leave us," he said, sorrowfully, "I had hoped to keep +the secret all my life; but the time has come when I must reveal to my +grandchild her mother's story." + +"Um-me-e e," groaned the old negress. "Sh, I t'ought it was a brack day +when John Glenalvan kem here dat mornin' a-askin' ole massa to shut my +pore chile up like a crim'nal." + +"Hush, Dinah," the old man repeated, pointing to the door. She went +out, and Golden turned her beautiful eyes, like blue violets drowned in +tears, upon his pale, drawn face. + +"Oh, grandpa," she cried, "you will tell me something of my mother at +last. I have so longed to hear something of my mother and my father." + +A groan forced itself through Hugh Glenalvan's livid lips. + +"Your desire shall be gratified," he replied. "But the telling will +cost you great sorrow, child." + +Her beautiful face grew white and scared. + +"Oh, grandpa," she cried, "then Elinor and Clare told the truth. My +poor mother----" + +A bursting sob checked the rest of her speech. + +"Golden, before I tell you your mother's story, I must receive your own +confession. Dinah has told me all the beginning of your acquaintance +with my son's visitor. You must now give me the history of what further +intercourse has passed between you. How comes it that my little Golden, +whom I deemed so true and pure, broke her promise to old Dinah?" + +The beautiful face drooped from his gaze, overspread with warm, crimson +blushes. No words came from the sweet, tremulous red lips. + +"A promise, child, no matter how humble the person to whom it is made, +should be held perfectly sacred and inviolate," he continued. "I could +not have believed that you, the child I had reared so carefully, could +have been so ignoble as to falsify your promise." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Beautiful Golden sobbed wildly at the reproachful words of her +grandfather. + +"Grandpa, I didn't mean it," she wept. "Indeed, indeed, I intended to +keep my promise to black mammy. It was quite by accident that I broke +it." + +"How could it have been by accident?" inquired the old man, +incredulously. + +"Do you remember my habit of sleep-walking?" she inquired. + +"Yes--ah, yes, for it has frightened me often to see a little, white +figure glide into my room at night, with vacant, unseeing eyes. I +always feared you would run into some terrible danger. Your mother had +the same unfortunate habit," replied the old man. + +"Grandpa, it was through that habit of mine that I broke my word to +black mammy," said Golden, with an earnestness that showed how truthful +was her explanation. + +"Tell me how it occurred, Golden," he said, fixing his dim eyes +anxiously on her face. + +"Grandpa, I am almost ashamed to tell you," she replied, blushing +crimson, "but it was in this way. The night after Mr. Chesleigh entered +my room by accident, I was very restless in my sleep. I will tell you +the truth. I had begun to love the handsome stranger. I thought of him +before I fell asleep, and in my restless slumbers I dreamed of him. So +I fell into my old habit of wandering in a state of somnambulism. It +was a beautiful moonlight night. I dressed myself and wandered out into +the grounds, and down by the lake, my favorite resting-place. Suddenly +I started, broad awake in the arms of Mr. Chesleigh. I had gone too +near the edge of the lake, and he had saved me from falling in." + +She shuddered slightly, and resumed: + +"In common gratitude I was compelled to speak, and thank the gentleman +for saving me from a watery grave. Do you think I was wrong to do so?" + +"It would have been cold and ungrateful to have omitted thanking him," +he admitted. + +"So I thought," said Golden. + +"If your intercourse had stopped there, Golden, I should have had no +words of blame for you. But you have carried on a secret intrigue ever +since. You have stolen out to meet that man every night, have you not?" + +"Yes, grandpa, but we loved each other," said the simple child, who +seemed to think that was ample excuse for what she had done. + +Hugh Glenalvan groaned, and remained lost in thought for a moment. + +Then he bent down and whispered a question in her ear. + +She started violently; the warm, ever-ready color flashed into her +cheek; she threw up her head and looked at him with proud, grieved eyes. + +"Grandpa, you hurt me cruelly," she replied. "Do not think of me so +unkindly. I am as pure as the snow." + +He seemed to be relieved by the words so quickly and proudly spoken. +The next minute he said, gravely: + +"My child, has this gentleman ever said anything to you of marriage?" + +Little Golden remained silent and thoughtful a moment, then she +answered, steadily. + +"Yes." + +"He wishes to marry you, then?" + +"Yes," answered the girl, with a little quiver of triumphant happiness +in her voice. + +"When?" he asked. + +A shadow fell over the fair, sweet face a moment. + +"I do not know exactly when," she replied. "But Mr. Chesleigh will see +you to-morrow--he told me just now that he would--and then he will +settle everything." + +There was a silence for a moment. The breeze sighed softly through the +trees outside; they could hear it in the utter stillness. The dim, +flaring light fell on the gray head of the old man, drooping forlornly +on his breast, and on the lovely, upturned face of the girl, with its +tender blue eyes and falling golden hair. + +"Grandpa," she whispered, "do not be angry with your little girl. Put +your hand on my head and say you forgive me for my fault." + +He could not resist the coaxing voice and the asking blue eyes. He laid +his hand on the golden head and said, solemnly and kindly: + +"I forgive you, my little Golden, and I pray Heaven that no evil may +come of this affair!" + +She kissed his wrinkled, tremulous, old hand, where it hung over the +arm of the chair. + +"Thank you," she said, gratefully. "I am so glad you are not angry with +me. And now, dear grandpa, I am going to kneel right here and listen +while you tell me my mother's story." + +In the momentary silence the wind outside seemed to sigh more sadly +through the trees; the dim light flared and flickered, casting weird, +fantastic shadows in the corners of the room. Deep, heavy sighs +quivered over the old man's lips as the beautiful, child-like girl +knelt there, with her blue eyes lifted so eagerly to his face. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"You are the image of your mother, my child," said Golden's +grandfather. "She had a white skin, pink cheeks, blue eyes, and shining +hair. You inherit her happy, light-hearted disposition. You bear the +same name also--Golden Glenalvan." + +"Why was I never called by my father's name?" asked innocent Golden. + +"My child, you anticipate my story," he answered, "but I will tell you. +You have no right to your father's name." + +A cry of terror came from the parted lips of the girl. + +"Oh, grandpa, you do not mean _that_--you could not be so cruel!" + +"You must remember that it is not my fault," he answered. + +She sprang up and stood before him, with a look of white despair on her +lovely young face. + +"Now I understand it all," she said. "I know why my life is so unlike +that of other girls. Oh, grandpa, grandpa, tell me where to find my +mother that I may curse her for my ruined life!" + +His only answer was a low and heart-wrung groan. + +"Grandpa, tell me where to find her," repeated little Golden, wildly. +"She must be living, for I remember now that no one has ever told me +plainly that she was dead. I will go to her--I will reproach her for +her sin! I will tell her what a life mine has been--how I have been +hated and despised for my mother's fault, even by my kindred." + +Sighs, long and bitter, heaved the old man's breast, but he answered +her not. She flung herself weeping at his feet. + +"You do not speak!" she cried. "Oh, grandpa, tell me where to find my +cruel mother!" + +"She is with your father," said Hugh Glenalvan, in a deep and bitter +voice that showed what agony he endured in the revelation of his +daughter's disgrace and infamy. + +Golden threw up her little hands in convulsive agony. + +"Oh, not that!" she cried. "Tell me it is not true!" + +Again he had no answer for her, and Golden cried out reproachfully: + +"Grandpa, grandpa, why did you suffer her to be so wicked?" + +"It was through no fault of mine," he answered heavily. + +She looked at him in silent anguish a moment, then she asked him: + +"Where is she? Tell me where to find her, if you know." + +"John told me she was in New York the last time he heard of her; but +that was years ago. I pray God that she may be dead ere this." + +And then he wrung his hands, and the tears rolled down his withered +cheeks. + +"Oh, my lost little daughter, my precious little Golden," he moaned in +agony. "How little I dreamed in your innocent babyhood that you were +reserved for such a fate!" + +Golden was regarding him attentively. + +"Uncle John told you she was in New York," she said. "What did Uncle +John know? Did he hate my mother as he hates me?" + +He looked at her, startled. + +"Hate your mother," he cried. "His own sister! No--of course not--that +is, not until she fell!" + +"He hated her then?" asked Golden, musingly. + +"Yes, he hated her then. I believe he could have killed her." + +"He should have killed her betrayer," said Golden, who seemed suddenly +to have acquired the gravity and thoughtfulness of a woman. + +"I would have killed him myself if I could have laid hands on the +villain," said her grandfather, with sudden, irrepressible passion. + +The bitter grief and impatient wrath of the girl had sobered down into +quietness more grievous than tears. + +Her face showed deathly white in the dim light; her lips were set in a +line of intense pain; her pansy-blue eyes had grown black with feeling. + +She brought a low stool and sat down at her grandfather's feet, folding +her white hands meekly in her lap, and drooping her fair head heavily. + +"Grandpa, I will not interrupt you again," she said. "I will sit here +quite still, and listen. Now tell me all my mother's story." + +She kept her word. + +After he had told her all he had to tell, and she knew the whole tragic +story of her mother's disgrace, she still sat there silently, with her +dark eyes bent on her clasped hands. + +The cloud of shame and disgrace seemed to lower upon her head with the +weight of the whole world. + +"You understand all I have told, my child?" he said to her, after +waiting vainly for her to speak. + +She put her small hand to her head in a dazed, uncertain way. + +"Oh, yes, I think so," she replied. "But my head seems in a whirl. I +will ask you just a few questions, grandpa, to make sure that I have +understood." + +And then she seemed to fall into a "brown study." When she had +collected her thoughts a little she began to question him. + +"I think you said that my mother eloped at sixteen with a handsome +stranger whose acquaintance she had casually made in her long, lonely +rambles in the woods. In a few weeks she wrote to you from New York +that she was happily married. Am I right, grandpa?" + +"Yes," he replied. + +"And then, although you and Uncle John wrote repeatedly, you could +hear no more from her until a year had passed, and she came back +unexpectedly one dreadful stormy night." + +She paused, and he murmured a dreary, "Yes, dear." + +"She was in sore trouble," the girl went on, slowly. "She had found out +that her husband had deceived her. She was not legally his wife. Their +marriage had only been a mock marriage. So she left him." + +"That is right," he said, as she paused again. + +"And Uncle John, her only and elder brother, cursed her for the +disgrace she had brought on the Glenalvans. I think you told me that, +did you not, dear grandpa?" she said, lifting her heavy eyes a moment +to his sad, old face. + +"Yes, dear, he cursed her. John was always stern and hard, and he +was always jealous of our love for his little sister. He thought we +had spoiled her, and he was bitterly angry when she returned to us +in sorrow and shame. He was married to a woman as hard as himself, +and they were both for driving her forth like a dog. But Dinah and +I--for my daughter's mother had died while she was away--were too +tender-hearted for that. We cared for the poor, desolate child in spite +of John's threats and curses." + +"And that very night I was born," said little Golden, with the heaviest +sigh in which any mortal ever cursed the ill-fated hour of birth. + +"Yes, you were born in the storm and terror of that dreadful night," +he answered with a heavy sigh. "And your mother almost broke her heart +over you because you would never bear the name of the man she had loved +so well." + +"And that name, dear grandpa, tell me what it was," she cried, with +repressed eagerness. + +"My dear, she would never reveal that name. She loved him although he +had betrayed her. She was afraid of our vengeance." + +A look of keen disappointment came over the beautiful, mobile face. + +"But, grandpa," she said, "when she wrote you from New York, after she +left you, in the first flush of her happiness, when she had not your +vengeance to fear, did she not reveal her name then?" + +"Not even then," said the old man, bitterly. "She hinted that there was +some innocent but just cause for secrecy just then, but that she would +send her true name and address in the next letter. That next letter +never came." + +"There is not the slightest clew for me, then. I shall never find my +mother," said the girl, sorrowfully. + +"Golden, why should you wish to find her? She is a sinner, leading a +life of shame. She deserted you in your helpless infancy to return to +the arms of the villain who had betrayed her." + +"So Uncle John says," returned the girl, meaningly. + +He started, more at the tone than the words. + +"Golden, do you doubt him?" he cried. + +"Yes," said the girl steadily, turning on him the full splendor of her +purple-blue eyes, in which glowed a spark of indignant fire. "Yes, +grandpa, I doubt it. I utterly refuse to believe such a scandalous +story of my mother." + +He looked at her sadly, touched by her loyal faith in the mother she +had never known. + +"But think, my dear," he said. "You were but a few days old when she +stole away in the night and left you without a line to tell us of her +whereabouts. But John's blood was up. He traced her to New York, and +learned enough to be sure that she had returned to her lover. Then he +lost all trace of them, and came home reluctantly enough, for he would +have shot the villain if he could have laid hands on him." + +"It is a plausible story," the girl said, thoughtfully. "I might +believe it if any one but John Glenalvan had told it. But oh, grandpa, +that man always reminds me of a snake in the grass." + +"My child, that is one of old Dinah's homely phrases," he remonstrated. + +"It is a very true one, though," she maintained, stoutly. + +He saw that he could not convince her, so he sighed and remained silent. + +He had never thought of doubting his son's assertion himself. Golden's +incredulity awakened a vague sense of uneasiness in his mind. + +The girl sat silently also for a brief space of time, while the old +clock in the corner slowly ticked away the moments of that momentous +night. + +She roused herself from her drooping, dejected attitude at last and +looked up at the quiet old man. + +"Grandpa," she said anxiously, as if some sudden doubt or fear had +come into her mind, "what will Bert say when he hears this dreadful +story?" + +"Bert?" said her grandfather, questioningly. + +"Mr. Chesleigh, I mean," she replied. "What will he say when my story +is known to him? Will he, too, hate me for my mother's sin?" + +A look of pain and dread came over the sad, old face. + +"My darling, how can I tell?" he said. "I have heard that the +Chesleighs are very proud. It is only too likely that he will scorn you +when he knows the truth. I am afraid you must give up all thought of +loving him, dear." + +A strange, intense look came over the beautiful young face. + +"I cannot do that," she said. "I love him with my whole heart! I shall +love him all my life. He loves me, too, grandpa. He cannot give me up! +He will be true to me. I am not to blame for my mother's fault." + +"No, dear, I know that," he answered; "but the sins of the parents are +visited on the children. It is not likely that Mr. Chesleigh will care +to wed a nameless girl. He is wealthy and high-born, and can have his +choice from among the best in the land. Your Cousin Elinor aspires to +marry him." + +"He will never marry Elinor," said little Golden, decidedly. "He loves +me alone. He will be true to me." + +"God grant it, dear," her grandfather said, with a patient sigh, in +which there was but little hope. + +Then he looked up and saw the first pale gleams of the summer dawn +stealing into the room through the open window. + +The birds began to warble their mating songs in the broad-leaved +magnolia trees outside, as if there were no care nor sorrow, nor +blighting disgrace anywhere in the wide, beautiful world. + +"My little one," he said to the grave, hollow-eyed child, who seemed +suddenly to have grown a full-statured woman, "go to your room and +rest. You look terribly ill and wretched. Do not go back to the haunted +chamber again, but to your old room down stairs. Try to sleep, if you +can." + +He looked after her in wonder as she turned to obey him. Yesterday +she had been a beautiful, charming, careless child, full of pretty, +evanescent angers and quick repentances. + +The bloom, the smiles, the brightness were all gone now. The gold-brown +lashes drooped heavily against the death-white cheeks, the sweet lips +quivered heart-brokenly, the slow and lagging step was that of a weary +woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +As soon as she had reached the seclusion of her own chamber, little +Golden threw herself across her bed and wept as though her tender heart +would break. + +Strangely nurtured as she had been, the pride of race had been as +strong in her young heart as that of any Glenalvan of them all, and the +shock of her grandfather's revelation had been a terrible one. + +"I wish that I had died in my innocent babyhood," she wept; and her +black mammy, who had been lingering near her unobserved, came forward +to her and said quickly, while she smoothed the golden hair lovingly +with her old black hands: + +"You must not say dat, honey, chile. I has great hopes in your life. I +has almos' wore out my ole brack knees a-prayin' an' a-prayin' to de +good Lawd dat you might be de instrument to sabe your mudder from her +sinful life." + +Little Golden looked at her black mammy with a kind of pathetic wonder +in her beautiful, tearful eyes. + +"How could I do that, black mammy?" she said. + +"By seekin' dat poor soul out, Miss Golden, and 'suadin' her to forsake +dat wicked man, an' spend de balance ob her life in prayin' an' +repentin' ob her deadly sins," said Dinah, devoutly and earnestly. + +Golden sat up in the bed and looked at Dinah with eager, shining eyes +and impulsively clasped hands. + +"Ah, black mammy, if I only could," she cried; "but you forget I do not +know where to find her. I do not even know the name of that dreadful +man." + +And she shivered at the thought of his wickedness. She remembered that +he was her father, that his bad blood flowed in her veins. + +Old Dinah was looking at her strangely. + +"Little missie, what would you think if I could tell you his name?" she +said, with a little note of triumph in her tone. + +"Could you--oh, could you?" cried little Golden, impulsively. + +"Jest wait one minute, darlin'," said Dinah, hobbling out of the room. + +Golden waited, wonderingly and impatiently. + +After a little while Dinah returned, and laid a small package, wrapped +in tissue paper, in her hand. + +Golden removed the wrappers tremblingly. A small bit of crumpled +pasteboard fell out into her hand. + +She straightened it out and devoured with eager eyes the aristocratic +name printed upon it in small, clear, black type. + +Then she raised her gleaming eyes to the excited face of the old black +woman. + +"So," she said with a long, deep, sobbing breath, "this is my father's +name?" + +"Yes, chile, leastways I has de berry best reason for finking so," +replied Dinah, promptly. + +"Then you are not sure?" cried the girl, and there was a note of keen +disappointment in her voice. + +"All I know is dis, honey. It fell outer your mudder's pocket de night +when you was born. She was drawin' out her handkercher, an' it fell +onto de floor 'thout her seein' it. I didn't say nofin' to de poor, +distracted chile. I only picked the keerd up and put it away. I sabed +it for you, honey, chile." + +"And I am very grateful to you, black mammy," said the girl. "You had +very good reason for thinking it was my father's name. But it is a +wonder you never gave it to grandpa, or to Uncle John." + +"Who? _Me_ gib John Glenalvan anything, or tell him anything? Not to +sabe his brack soul from de debbil, who's got a bill ob sale for him!" +cried Dinah, flying into a rage, as she always did at the mention of +Golden's uncle. + +"Black mammy, why do you hate my uncle so bitterly?" asked Golden. + +"'Cause he's a snake in de grass," replied Dinah, shortly. + +"I know that--at least I have always felt it," said Golden, +meditatively; "but there must be some particular reason, mammy. Tell me +what it is." + +"Well, den, if you mus' know, dere's two reasons," said Dinah. "De +first is dat he hated your pore, sweet mudder. De second one is dat +he's like a human wampire fastened on your gran'pa." + +"I don't understand what you mean by your second reason," said Golden, +gravely. + +Dinah looked at her a moment in meditative silence; then she said +abruptly: + +"I don't keer what dey say, I'll tell you, my chile. Your Uncle John +done badgered and badgered your grandpa while you was a leetle, teeny +babby until, for de sake ob peace, dat pore ole man done made John a +deed to Glenalvan Hall and de whole estate. Your gran'pa ain't no more +dan a beggar in the ole hall his own fader left him in his will." + +"But why did my grandfather give away his property like that?" asked +the girl. + +"'Cause John swore if he didn't do it dat he would carry you off and +put you into a foundling asylum. You was a pore, leetle, deliky babby +then, and we skeecely 'spected you would live from one day to de nex' +one. So to hab de pleasure ob keepin' an' tendin' you de ole man +'sented to beggar hisself." + +"Grandpa did all that for my unworthy sake, and yet I reproached him +for being strict and hard with me! Oh, how wicked and ungrateful he +must think me," cried the girl, tearfully. + +"No he don't, honey, chile," said the black woman, soothingly, "you see +he knowed dat you wasn't 'ware of all what you had to t'ank him for." + +"No, indeed, I never dreamed of all I had cost him," exclaimed +beautiful Golden, self-reproachfully. "And so, black mammy, we are only +staying at Glenalvan Hall on the sufferance of my uncle?" + +"Dat's jest de way ob it, missie. And, look ye, too dat ongrateful, +graspin' wilyun has done threaten your pore gran'pa, time and ag'in, to +pack bofe of you'uns off to de pore-house." + +"The unnatural monster!" exclaimed little Golden, in a perfect tempest +of passionate wrath. + +"Well you may say so," cried Dinah, in a fever of sympathy. "De debbil +will nebber git his due till he gets John Glenalvan! De blood biles in +my ole vains when I fink ob all de insults dat man has heaped on his +own fader, 'long ob you and your pore misguided mudder." + +Beautiful little Golden sat upright regarding the excited old woman in +grave silence. Her blue eyes were on fire with indignation and grief. +At times she would murmur: "Poor, dear grandpa, dear true-hearted +grandpa," and relapse into silence again. + +She roused herself at last from her musing mood, and looked up at +Dinah. There was a hopeful light in the soft, blue eyes, so lately +drowned in tears of sorrow and despair. + +"Black mammy, I have been thinking," she said, "and I will tell you +what I mean to do." + +"What, honey?" + +"I will tell you a secret, mammy. Mr. Chesleigh loves me. We are--that +is, I will be his wife one of these days." + +"Miss Golden, is dat so?" cried black mammy, delighted. "I am so glad! +I was 'fraid--well, nebber min' what I was 'fraid of, chile; but 'deed +I is so glad dat Mr. Chesly's gwine to marry you. He is a rich man, +honey. You kin snap your lily fingers at ugly Marse John, when once you +is Mr. Chesly's wife." + +"Yes, he is very rich, black mammy," said the girl, with a pretty, +almost childish complacency. "He has told me so, and he tells me I +shall have jewels and fine dresses, and all that heart could desire +when I go to live with him--I mean," blushing rosy red, "when I become +his wife." + +"And powerful pretty you will look in dem fine tings, honey," said her +black mammy, admiringly. + +"But the best thing of all, black mammy, is that I shall be able to +take grandpa away from this place, and love him and care for him," +cried Golden, exultantly. "I shall take you, too, mammy, for you have +been the only mother I ever knew. Grandpa shall have the happiest home +in the world, and Bert and I will both love him dearly, dearly!" + +"And your pore, lost mudder, darlin', you had forgotten her," said +Dinah, a little wistfully, her thoughts straying back through the mist +of years, to the lost little nursling who had fluttered from the safe +parental nest, and steeped the white wings of her soul in the blackness +of sin. + +But Golden shook her dainty head decidedly. + +"No, black mammy, I had not forgotten," she said. "When I am Bert's +wife, he shall help me to seek and save my poor, lost mother. We +will try to win her back to the path of right, and save her soul for +Heaven," she concluded, with girlish ardor and fervency. + +"May the good Lawd help you to succeed, my innercent lamb," said the +good old black woman, prayerfully. "Her little soul was too white +and tender for de brack debbil to git it at de last for his brack +dominions." + +There was a sudden tap at the door. Golden looked at it eagerly and +expectantly, while Dinah threw it open. + +A small black boy, a servant of John Glenalvan, stood outside with a +sealed letter in his hand. + +"For Missie Golden, from Mass Chesleigh," he said, putting it in +Dinah's hand, and quickly retiring. + +Dinah carried it silently to her mistress, who kissed the +superscription, and eagerly tore it open. + +The thick, satin-smooth sheet rustled in the trembling little hand as +the blue eyes ran over it, lovingly and eagerly. + +As she read, the tender, loving eyes grew wild and startled, an ashen +shade crept around the rosebud lips, the young face whitened to the +corpse-like hue of death. She crumpled the sheet in her hand at last, +and threw it wildly from her, while a cry of intolerable anguish +thrilled over her white lips. + +"Oh, mammy, mammy, my heart is broken--broken! I shall never see him +again. He has forsaken me for my mother's sin!" + +Then she fell back cold and rigid, like one dead upon the bed. Dinah +flew to her assistance, cursing in her heart the wickedness and +heartlessness of men. + +But though she worked busily and anxiously, the morning sun rode +high in the heavens before the deeply-stricken girl recovered her +consciousness. Her grandfather was watching beside her pillow when her +eyes first opened, and she threw her arms around his neck and wept long +and bitterly on his faithful breast. + +"You were right," she whispered to him. "You know the cruel world +better than I did. He has left me, grandpa--I shall never see him +again. He discards me for my mother's sin." + +She wept and moaned all day, refusing all consolation. She was +terrified by the coldness and cruelty of the world that condemned her +for the sins of others. + +Many and many a time she had chafed at the narrowness and loneliness of +her lot, but she had never known sorrow until to-day. + +Its horrible reality crushed her down before its pitiless strength like +the fury of the storm-rain. A crushed and bleeding victim, she lay weak +and stunned in its victorious path. + +At nightfall she slept, wearied out by the force and violence of her +deep, overmastering emotion. + +Old Dinah persuaded her weary, haggard old master to retire to his room +and bed, promising to watch faithfully herself by the sick girl. + +She dozed until midnight, when, as Golden still slept on heavily, +she permitted herself to take a wary nap in an old arm-chair. It was +daylight when the weary, suffering old creature awoke. The beautiful +Golden was gone. + +A little three-cornered note lay on the pillow that still held the +impress of the dear little head. The child had written sorrowfully to +her grandfather: + + "Grandpa, darling, I have only brought you trouble and sorrow all my + life-time, so I am going away. Your son will be kinder to you when I + am gone, and your life will be less hard; perhaps black mammy will + be kind and faithful to you, so you will not miss your thoughtless + little Golden very much. God bless you, grandpa, you must pray for + me nightly, for I am going to seek my mother, the erring mother who + cursed me with life! If indeed, she is living in sin and shame, + I will strive to reclaim her and restore her to the safe path of + virtue. I have nothing else to live for. Love and happiness, the + delights of this world, are not for me. It shall be _the dream of my + life-time_ to find and save my wronged and erring mother." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +From the fair southern clime where her lines had hitherto been cast, +little Golden traveled straight to the great, thronged city of New York. + +During her long day and night of intense suffering, the thought, first +suggested to her mind by old Dinah, of seeking and reclaiming her +erring mother, had fastened on her mind with irresistible force and +power. + +Every thought and feeling of this beautiful, unhappy child was as pure +as that of an angel. + +The knowledge that the young mother who had given her birth was living +a life of sin and dishonor was most revolting to her mind. She could +not think of it without a mortal shudder. + +When Dinah fell asleep by her pillow the girl awakened suddenly and lay +for a little while in silent meditation. The idea she had been silently +revolving in her mind all day gathered strength in the solitude and +stillness of the midnight hour. + +Golden was young, buoyant, ignorant of the world, and thought not +of the difficulties that would hedge the path of duty which she was +marking out for her little, untried feet. + +She did not know how dear she was to her grandfather's heart, and how +bitterly he would be wounded by her desertion. She only thought of +escaping from the life which had suddenly become so unbearable, and of +filling her heart with other aims now that the love she had given so +lavishly from the depths of a warm and generous heart, had been cast +back to her in scorn and contempt. + +In the pocket of her best cashmere dress was a little purse filled with +gold pieces of which no one knew but herself. + +Bertram Chesleigh had given it to her in a happy, never-to-be-forgotten +hour which now it almost killed her even to recall. + +Almost staggering with weakness, Golden rose and silently and +cautiously dressed herself in her blue cashmere dress and hat and +jacket. + +She decided not to take anything with her. It would be easier to +purchase new things when she had arrived in New York. + +When she was ready to go, Golden knelt down a moment and pressed her +fair cheek lovingly and sorrowfully to the toil-worn wrinkled hand of +her old black mammy. + +She loved the old negress dearly. Under that homely black breast beat +the only heart that had ever given a mother's love to the beautiful, +forsaken child of poor, wronged and misguided little Golden. + +Then with a lingering, loving, backward glance around, the girl left +the room and proceeded to her grandfather's apartment. + +The kind old man was asleep with a look of care and anxiety deeply +imprinted on his pale, worn features. + +Golden pressed her trembling lips to the thin, gray locks that +straggled over the pillow, and her girlish tears fell on them, shining +like jewels in the dim gleam of the night-lamp. + +Then Golden stole away noiselessly. There was one more farewell to +be said ere she set forth on the mission whose only clew lay in the +crumpled card hidden away securely in the little purse of gold. + +She knelt down on the banks of the tranquil little lake she had always +loved so dearly, and clasped her little hands and lifted her white face +in the bright moonlight. + +"Farewell, little lake," she murmured to the silvery, tranquil sheet +of water. "I pray God that the time may come when I shall kneel by +you again, and tell you that I have reclaimed my erring mother, and +that her soul has been washed as pure and free from sin as the lilies +sleeping on your breast." + +Was it only little Golden's excited fancy, or did a shadow, soft and +impalpable as a mist wreath, and pale as the moonbeams, glide across +the still water in the form of a woman, and a voice as soft and low as +the sigh of the breeze murmur sadly: + +"Bless you, my daughter." + +She started and looked around; the voice and vision had been so real +she could hardly imagine it fancy, but the phantom shape had dissolved +into moonbeams again, and the voice had melted into music on the +"homeless winds." + +"If my poor mother was dead I should believe that her spirit had +blessed me," said the beautiful girl to herself. "But she is alive, so +it could not have been she, perhaps it was my guardian angel." + +She plucked a beautiful, large, white lily from the lake and started +on her way to the railway station, carrying the spotless flower in her +hand. + +Perhaps some thought of the poet, Longfellow's, verses came to her mind: + + "Bear a lily in thine hand, + Gates of brass cannot withstand + One touch of that magic wand, + Bear through sorrow, wrong and ruth, + On thy lips the smile of truth, + In thy heart the dew of youth." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +We will return to Bertram Chesleigh, little Golden's recreant lover. + +All of John Glenalvan's influence had been brought to bear on the proud +young man to induce him to relinquish his pursuit of the beautiful girl +whose acquaintance he had so strangely and imprudently formed. + +Mr. Chesleigh's own pride of birth, united to John Glenalvan's artful +innuendoes, was a powerful ally in the young man's mind against his +love for the lonely and beautiful little girl. + +In the light of John Glenalvan's revelations, a great revulsion had +taken place in his mind. + +He heartily wished that he had never made the acquaintance of the +lovely little creature, or that he had not followed it up with such +ardor and passion. + +With few, if any exceptions, men are naturally selfish. Bertram +Chesleigh, who had never known a desire unfulfilled in the course of +his prosperous life, was no exception to the general rule. + +In pursuing his acquaintance with little Golden, he had been actuated +more by a regard for his own pleasure than by any thought of risk for +her. + +In the light of recent developments, he thought also first of himself. +How to escape from the consequences of his headlong passion became +momentarily a paramount consideration. + +When his conscience reproached him he replied to it that it was only +natural and right that he should think first of himself. + +He had his high social station to maintain, and he was quite sure that +his friends and relations would have declined to receive even as his +bride, a woman of stained birth. + +Golden had, it seemed, no place in the world, no social status whatever. + +If he made her his bride, his troubles and embarrassments would be +legion. If he left her all would go well with him, and he argued with +himself that the child would speedily forget him and resign herself to +her strange and lonely life. + +So, under the influence of these vexing thoughts, and John Glenalvan's +specious arguments and representations, that unjust letter was written +to poor, suffering little Golden. + +Ah, we are so careless and so thoughtless over what we write. Bertram +Chesleigh was not a bad man, and never meant to be cruel, and yet he +had done more harm in the writing of that letter than if he had pierced +the tender heart with a dagger. + +Even while writing it he felt ashamed and sorry, yet no premonition +came to tell him of the dim future when he would have given tears of +blood to have obliterated even the memory of that letter from the heart +of little Golden which it had seared as with the breath of fire. + +He never forgot a single word of that letter he had written to her, +although in his haste and agitation he had kept no copy of it. It did +not seem so hard to him at first as it did afterward, when he knew what +suffering the writing had caused and the consequences were forever +beyond recall. + +After he had written and dispatched it he made his adieu to the family +of John Glenalvan and departed, feeling like a coward, while if he had +truly understood the depth of tenderness and capabilities of woe in the +girl he had deserted, he might have felt more like a murderer. + +The Glenalvans, while terribly disappointed in their hopes for Elinor, +were relieved at the departure of their guest for the present. Elinor +entreated her father to make arrangements for removing Golden out of +the way in case the young man should repeat his visit, and he promised, +with an oath more forcible than polite, that he would certainly do so. + +But before he had taken any decisive step in the furtherance of his +purpose, the unfortunate girl had taken her fate in her own hands. When +John Glenalvan entered the ruined wing the second day for the purpose, +as he had emphatically expressed it, of "having it out with his father +in cursed few words," he found the old man and his faithful old +servant in a frenzy of grief and despair over Golden's farewell letter. + +John was unfeignedly glad that Golden had gone away herself without +giving him the trouble and annoyance of sending her. + +"It is much better as it is, father," he said to the poor, +broken-hearted old creature. "I fully intended to send the girl away. +She has only saved herself the ignominy of a summary dismissal. Do not +fret yourself over her. She has only forsaken you to lead a life of +shame with her erring mother. I hope that a lightning flash may strike +her dead before she ever returns here again to disgrace and shame us +yet further!" + +"Forbear, John. You are cruel and impious," cried the old man, lifting +his hand feebly, and his son strode angrily out of the room, muttering +curses "not loud but deep," and followed by the vivid lightnings of old +Dinah's black eyes. + +"Oh, de brack-hearted wilyun!" she muttered. "May de good Lard hasten +de time ob punishment for his cruel sins!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The first thing that happened to little Golden Glenalvan after she +arrived in the city of New York, was something that not infrequently +happens to simple and inexperienced travelers. + +She had her pocket picked of her purse by some expert thief. Such +things have often happened in the annals of New York crime, and will +again, but it is probable that no one's life was ever so much affected +by such a loss as was the unfortunate little Golden's. + +She found herself by this totally unlooked-for catastrophe thrown +into the streets of the great, wicked city penniless, friendless, and +utterly forsaken. Every cent she possessed in the world had been in +the little purse, together with the card that bore her father's name. +The latter was not so great a loss to her. The name of the man who had +wronged her mother was engraven on her mind in characters that were +never to be destroyed. + +Her little plans for the discovery of her mother, laid with such +girlish art, were all turned away by this accident. She had meant to +take cheap lodgings somewhere, and prosecute her search, but now she +knew not what to do, nor where to turn. + +The great, busy city, with its strange faces and hurry and bustle +frightened her, even though she dreamed not in her girlish innocence of +its festering sin and underlying wickedness. + +Sinking down on a secluded seat in Central Park where she had been +walking when she first discovered her loss, she sobbed bitterly in her +grief and distress--so bitterly that a well-dressed, benevolent-looking +lady who was walking along a path with a pretty poodle frisking before +her, went up to her with kind abruptness. + +"My dear little girl," she said, laying her hand gently on the +showering, golden wealth of hair that escaped from Golden's little +sailor hat, "what is the matter? Can I help you?" + +Golden lifted her head and the lady who had a kind, middle-aged face, +decidedly aristocratic, started and uttered a cry of surprise at the +beautiful, girlish face with its tearful eyes like purple-blue pansies +drowned in dew. + +In a moment the lady's quick eyes had seen from the cut and fashion +of Golden's simple garments that she was a stranger in New York. She +repeated kindly: + +"What ails you, my child? Have you become separated from your friends?" + +"No, for I have not a friend in this whole, great city. But I have lost +my purse," answered Golden, with childish directness. + +The lady sat down beside her and regarded her a moment in thoughtful +silence. She saw nothing but the most infantile sweetness, purity +and truth in the lovely, troubled young face. She was touched and +interested. + +"So you have lost your purse?" she said. "Have you had your pocket +picked?" + +"I do not know," answered Golden, forlornly. "I carried it in my jacket +pocket, and awhile ago, when I felt for it I discovered that it was +gone." + +"Now, I am quite sure you are a stranger in New York," said the lady. +"If you belonged in the city you would know better than to carry your +purse carelessly in the pocket of your walking jacket. New York is full +of sneak thieves who are on the watch for the unwary. You say you have +not a friend in the city. Where are you from, my child?" + +"From the south," replied Golden. + +"Did you come to New York alone?" + +"Yes madam. I am an orphan," replied the girl, not wishing to disclose +her history to her interrogator. + +"What do you wish for in this great city?" asked the lady. + +"I want to find some employment at present. Can you help me?" asked +Golden, timidly and beseechingly lifting her large blue eyes to the +interested face of the lady. + +"Perhaps I can," said the lady, smiling gently. "What kind of +employment do you wish? What kind of work can you do?" + +The beautiful, girlish face grew a little blank. She remembered her +careless, idle life at Glenalvan Hall, where no one ever taught her +anything but her grandfather and old Dinah. She was compelled to +confess despondently that she did not know how to do anything. + +The lady who was a really good woman with a decidedly benevolent turn, +studied the drooping face attentively. She saw that there was some +mystery about the girl, but the lovely young face was so guileless +and winning that she could see no evil in it. She asked her, rather +abruptly, what her name was. + +"Golden Glenalvan," answered the girl, and the lady frowned slightly, +and said it was too fanciful and pretty. + +"If you are going to work for your living, I would advise you to call +yourself by some plain and common name, such as Jones or Brown or +Smith." + +"Then I will call myself Mary Smith," replied Golden, resignedly. + +"That will do very well. Now, my child, do you think you would like to +undertake chambermaid's work?" + +She glanced, as she spoke, at the girl's ungloved hands, and saw that +they were delicately white and aristocratic, so she answered the +question negatively to herself before Golden answered, shrinkingly and +timidly: + +"I do not believe I would like it, madam, but I am willing to try. I +must do something to support myself, and I have no choice left me since +I do not know how to do anything." + +The lady looked at her a little wonderingly. + +"My child, if you would tell me something about yourself I might know +better how to help you," she said. "It is quite evident that you have +met with reverses. You are unaccustomed to labor, and you look like a +born lady." + +Golden was silent, and a deep blush colored her face. Not for worlds +would she have told her sad story to this gentle woman. + +She fancied that the sweet pity beaming from her gray eyes now would +change to scorn and contempt, if she could know that she was a nameless +child seeking a lost and guilty mother. + +"Perhaps you have imprudently run away from your friends," she said, +questioningly, and striking so near the truth that Golden burst into +tears again, and would have left her but that she detained her by a +firm yet gentle pressure of the hand. + +"Do not go," she said. "I want to help you if I can. Perhaps I could +tell you something you are far too young and innocent to know." + +"What is that, ma'am?" asked Golden, looking at her questioningly. + +"This, my child--that one so pretty and simple as you are should not +be alone and friendless in this great city. You are in the greatest +danger. Beauty is only a curse to a poor girl who has to earn her own +living." + +"Yes, madam," Golden answered, with perfect meekness, though she +crimsoned painfully. + +"So I think," continued her kind friend, "that a home and shelter in +even the humblest capacity is better for you than to be wandering alone +in the streets homeless and penniless." + +"I know that," said Golden, "but I have nowhere to go," and the pathos +of the tearful tone touched the kind lady's heart. + +"My child, I have been thinking about that," she said. "I have a friend +who needs a nurse for her little invalid girl. Should you like to try +for the situation?" + +"Oh, yes," Golden answered, gratefully. + +"The little girl is the petted and only daughter of wealthy people," +continued the kind lady. "She is delicate, and has been humored and +spoiled injudiciously all her life, until she is, at times, quite +overbearing and disagreeable, so much so indeed that her mother can +scarcely keep a nurse for her more than a week or two at a time. Are +you frightened at my description? Have you a good store of patience?" + +"I have been impatient and self-willed all my life," confessed Golden, +frankly. + +"Yet you have a sweet-tempered face, if there is any truth in +physiognomy," said her new friend. "It seems to me that you could not +grow impatient ministering to the needs of that poor, little invalid +child. Think how much happiness you could give the poor, ailing little +soul if you tried. And when you are as old as I am," she added, with a +faint sigh, "you will understand that the greatest pleasure in life is +in giving happiness to others." + +"I will try to be patient and kind to the child, if you will be so +kind as to get the place for me," said little Golden, trembling with +eagerness. + +"Very well, my dear; I will myself accompany you to my friend's house +and speak a kind word in your favor. It is rather a risk to run, this +introducing and vouching for a total stranger, but I believe that your +gentle, honest face will be a passport to Mrs. Desmond's favor, just as +it has been to mine. You will follow me, now, my child." + +Golden walked on with the warm-hearted woman some distance through the +beautiful green park, when, to her surprise, her benefactress stopped +before an elegant, liveried carriage, with quite an imposing-looking +driver in a white hat and gloves. + +"Drive to Mrs. Desmond's, John," she said, as the footman handed her +and her timid _protege_ into the carriage. + +Little Golden felt like one in a bewildering dream as she lay back +among the luxurious satin cushions and was whirled through the stately +streets, past the beautiful buildings and brown-stone palaces until +they stopped at last before one more splendid than all the rest, +and she found herself gliding up the marble steps, her young heart +throbbing fast at the novelty and strangeness of her position. + +She was going to be a servant in this splendid house! She, one of the +Glenalvans of Glenalvan Hall, a name that had been proud and honored in +the past until her girlish mother had stained its haughty prestige with +shame. + +Her heart beat heavily and slow. The thought came to her mind that +these proud and wealthy people would not even permit her to be a +servant to their daughter if they knew that she was a nameless child. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Mrs. Markham, little Golden's kind, new friend, was evidently on terms +of intimacy with Mrs. Desmond. + +Instead of sending her card to the lady and awaiting her appearance +in the formal drawing-room, she was at once conducted up stairs to a +charming _boudoir_ hung with rose-colored silk and white lace. + +The carpet was white velvet strewn with a pattern of pink moss +rosebuds, and the chairs and couches were upholstered in a deeper shade +of rose-color. + +Everything in the room was costly and tasteful, and vases of +freshly-cut flowers diffused delicious fragrance through the air. + +Little Golden had never before been in such a costly and tasteful room, +and she uttered an involuntary low exclamation of surprise and delight +at which Mrs. Markham smiled indulgently. + +"Does this pretty room surprise you?" she inquired. + +"Yes, madam, I have never seen anything so beautiful and costly +before," answered the simple child. + +At that moment the heavy draperies that hung between the _boudoir_ and +the dressing-room were swept aside by a white, jeweled hand, and the +mistress of all this magnificence entered the room. + +She was a beautiful young lady, with great, velvety black eyes, dark, +waving hair, crimson lips, and rounded cheeks like the sunny side of a +peach. Her morning-dress was elegant, costly and becoming. + +"Ah, Mrs. Markham, good-morning. I am very glad to see you," she cried, +then she looked past her friend inquiringly at the little, shrinking +figure of Golden. + +"Edith, this is a little _protege_ of mine, Mary Smith by name," Mrs. +Markham hastened to say. "If you have not secured a nurse yet, will you +try her for little Ruby?" + +"I shall be very glad to do so if you think she will suit," returned +Mrs. Desmond as they all seated themselves. + +Then the handsome brunette looked patronizingly at the new applicant +for her favor. The scrutiny did not seem to please her. The slender, +arched, black brows met over the bright eyes in a slight frown. + +"Child, why do you not put your hair up?" she asked, glancing at the +bright wealth of loosely flowing ringlets. "It is not becoming to +nurses to wear it in that way." + +"I can put it up if you wish me, ma'am," Golden replied in a low +voice, her eyelids drooping that the lady might not see the childish +resentment that flashed into them at her slightly scornful tone. + +"Very well, I shall insist upon that if I engage you," replied Mrs. +Desmond. "You will tuck it up and wear a nurse's cap over it. Have you +any recommendations to give with her, Mrs. Markham?" she continued, +expectantly. + +"No, for Mary has never been in service before," replied the kind lady. +"She is a young southern girl seeking employment in this city, and I +should like to befriend her if possible. I fancied that her gentle, +innocent face might recommend her to your favor as it did to mine." + +Mrs. Desmond turned to look at Golden again, and met the gaze of the +soft blue eyes fixed on her with a kind of puzzled intentness. + +"Child, why do you stare at me so curiously?" she inquired. + +The deep color rushed into Golden's face, making her more lovely than +ever. + +"I beg your pardon," she hastened to say, falteringly. "You remind me +so much of someone I have known that I could not keep from looking at +your face. It was very rude, I know." + +"Never mind, I am not angry," answered Mrs. Desmond. "Do you think you +would make a good, patient nurse for my little girl, Mary?" + +"I will do the best I can," little Golden replied, in her gentle, +refined voice. + +Mrs. Desmond looked at her friend. + +"I am not in the habit of engaging help without recommendation. It is +rather a risk to run," she remarked, "but to please you, my friend, and +because I really need a maid for Ruby, I will give Mary Smith a trial. +When can you come Mary?" + +"She can stay now, if you like, Edith," said Mrs. Markham. + +"That will suit me very well," said Mrs. Desmond. "I will engage you +for one month at least, Mary, and I will pay you ten dollars a month. +Will that suit you?" + +"Yes, thank you," Golden answered, timidly. + +"Very well, you may stay now, and you may go at once to Ruby, for I +have been compelled to lend her my own maid, for a week past, and she +is so dissatisfied with the position that she threatens to leave me if +she is not relieved. I can assure you that you will find your position +no sinecure. I hope you will try to find means to amuse the child. You +must be very kind and patient with her, Mary. I allow no scolding or +fault-finding, for my little girl is very frail and delicate." + +Golden rose and stood waiting while the languid, fine lady talked. + +When she had ended her little speech, she pointed her white finger at +the dressing-room door. + +"Go through the drawing-room," she said, "into my bed-chamber. You will +find that it has a door connecting with the nursery. You will find +my little daughter in there. You may introduce yourself to her. Mrs. +Markham and I will look in presently and see how Ruby is pleased with +you." + +"Try and make a good impression on the little one's mind at first," +said Mrs. Markham, kindly. "First impressions are everything with +children." + +Beautiful Golden thanked her with a grateful look, and silently +withdrew to follow Mrs. Desmond's instructions. + +"You do not seem as pleased as I had expected, Edith," Mrs. Markham +said, in a tone of disappointment, when they were alone. + +"To tell the truth, I think the girl is too pretty," Mrs. Desmond +replied, with some embarrassment. + +"I thought you liked pretty things about you," said her friend. + +"So I do, but I do not like pretty servants," was the significant +reply. "As a rule they are vain and trifling, and do not attend to +their business. They are always looking out to attract admiration to +their pretty faces." + +"I do not believe that Mary Smith is one of that kind," said Mrs. +Markham. "She seems a good, simple, innocent girl. But if she fails to +suit you, Edith, you may return her to me, and I will find some other +place for her. I imagined that you would be delighted with such a girl +for Ruby's attendant." + +"And so I am, and I am ever so much obliged to you for thinking of me. +I hope that she will please Ruby better than the girls we have had +lately, for I feel quite worn out with anxiety over the dear little +creature," replied Mrs. Desmond, but so constrained that Mrs. Markham +saw that she was only half-hearted in her pleasure, and wondered why it +was that Golden's beauty, which was so attractive to her own eyes, was +distasteful to Mrs. Desmond, who was beautiful herself, and liked to +gather beautiful things around her. + +It is said that every family has its skeleton. Mrs. Markham did not +know that the skeleton in her friend's closet was the lurking fiend of +jealousy. Mrs. Desmond was a charming lady, but she secretly disliked +every pretty woman she knew. + +Little Golden went on through the dressing-room to the bed-chamber, +which was a perfect bower of elegance and repose, and timidly opened +the nursery door, for the description of little Ruby Desmond had rather +intimidated her. + +She found herself in a large, airy, sunny chamber, splendidly adapted +for a nursery, and luxuriously fitted up for that purpose. + +In a low rocking-chair a smart French maid was indolently lounging and +yawning over a French novel. + +In a corner of the room a little girl of six years, small for her age, +and pale and delicate-looking, was sobbing fretfully in a fit of the +sulks. + +She dashed the tears from her eyes and looked up curiously at the timid +intruder. + +"Who are you?" she demanded, abruptly. + +"I am Mary Smith, your new nurse, little Miss Ruby," said Golden, in a +clear, sweet voice, and with a winning smile. + +The French maid threw down her novel and stared, and little Ruby came +out of her corner. + +"So you are my new maid, are you?" she asked, pertly. "Well, I hope you +will not be as hateful as Celine here is, for if you do I shall be sure +to throw my top at your head. I am very glad you are come, for I am +perfectly tired of Celine, and I want her to leave me at once--at once, +do you hear me, Celine?" + +Celine flounced out of the room in a huff, and the little one continued: + +"There is one comfort, you are not as ugly as Celine and the others! I +hate ugly people, and so does my papa, but mamma likes them best. _You_ +are the prettiest nurse I ever saw! You look just like my big wax doll, +with your blue eyes and long hair. Nurses always wear their hair under +a cap, did you not know that?" + +Little Golden did not answer one word to the voluble discourse of the +spoiled child. + +She stood silently in the center of the large apartment, her small +hand pressed to her beating heart, her pale lips apart, her blue eyes +upraised to a large portrait that hung against the wall in a splendid +frame of gold and ebony. The dark, handsome, splendid face that smiled +down upon her was the face of her lost lover, Bertram Chesleigh. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Fortunately for Golden, little Ruby Desmond did not observe the +preoccupation of her new nurse. She had entered upon a voluble tirade +against nurses in general, and when she had ended she remarked with a +sudden change of tone: + +"But I don't believe I shall hate you as much as I did the rest. You +are younger and prettier than any girl I ever had to amuse me. Come, +now, Mary, lay off your hat and jacket. I want you to make my doll a +new dress. That lazy Celine would not stick a needle in it, for all I +stormed and scolded, and threatened to complain to mamma." + +Thus adjured, Golden turned her eyes with an effort away from the +portrait of Bertram Chesleigh, and proceeded to obey the instructions +of her little mistress with what cheerfulness she could, although her +heart was beating wildly with the shock she had received on coming +suddenly face to face with her lover's portrait in this strange place. + +She longed, yet dreaded to ask little Ruby what the original of the +portrait was to her. + +Looking from the portrait to the child she could plainly discern in +Ruby's proud mouth and flashing, dark eyes, a great and striking +resemblance to Mr. Chesleigh. + +But she was afraid to ask the question that trembled on her lips, so +she sat down mutely while Ruby brought a large wax doll and placed it +in her lap, together with a large quantity of scraps of silk and muslin +and odds and ends of pretty lace. + +Then she pulled open the drawer of a child's bureau and brought out a +garnet silk dress of her own, elaborately made and trimmed. + +"I want Dollie's dress made exactly like this," she said, hanging it +open over the back of a chair for Golden's inspection. "It is in the +latest fashion, so Celine says. Celine thinks of nothing but French +novels and fashions, so she ought to know." + +"Your doll is very beautiful. Is it a new one?" asked Golden, trying +to say something to please the little creature who was hovering about +her, busy and excited with her important preparations for the miniature +dressmaking. + +"Oh, yes, it is tolerably new! Papa gave it to me last week," replied +Ruby. "There was a little trunk of clothes with her, but I do not like +any of the dresses. They are quite old-fashioned and shabby, I think. +Mamma says herself that they must have been made at least a year ago. +So I shall never be satisfied until I have a new-fashioned dress for +Dollie." + +She was silent a moment, watching Golden's deft finger as they slowly +cut and basted, then she resumed: + +"I have tried and tried, but I cannot think of a name for her. Can you +tell me a pretty name for her, Mary?" + +"Would you like to call her Golden?" asked the girl, feeling as if the +sound of her own name would be a relief in this new, strange atmosphere. + +"Golden! what a pretty name," said the child. "I like that. I will call +Dollie by that name. I shall be Golden--Golden Chesleigh," she added, +after a minute's thought. + +The new nurse started so violently, that the doll's dress fell from her +fingers. The lovely crimson color rushed into her face. + +"Chesleigh! Why do you call her that?" she asked, falteringly. "Do you +know anybody by that name, Miss Ruby?" + +The little girl laughed quite happily. + +"Well, I should think I did," she said, brightly. "My own uncle is +named Chesleigh--Bertram Chesleigh. There is his portrait on the wall. +Look at it, Mary, and tell me if he is not me very handsomest man you +ever beheld." + +Golden looked up into the dark eyes that had gazed into her own so +fondly, and at the proud yet tender lips that had kissed her with such +passionate love, and she could barely repress the moan of pain that +came from her lips. + +"Yes, he is very handsome," she said faintly. "Does he ever call here +to see you?" + +"Oh, yes, often and often, when he is at home," said Ruby. "But he is +gone away traveling in the sunny south now. He travels a great deal. +Mamma calls him a bird of passage." + +"Is he fond of you?" said Golden, seeing that she was expected to say +something. + +"Oh, yes, very fond," said Ruby, brightening up so much that Golden +saw it was a favorite subject with her. "He had that splendid portrait +painted expressly for a present to me. Mamma begged me to let it hang +in the drawing-room, but I would not. I told her I would have it in the +nursery where I could see it every minute." + +"Is he--married?" asked Golden, carelessly, to all appearance, and +taking up her work again. + +"Oh, dear, no! and I hope he never will be! He loves me better than +anyone now, but he would like his wife best if he were married," cried +the spoiled child. + +Golden sighed softly and made no reply, and the entrance of Mrs. +Desmond and her visitor interrupted the conversation. + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Markham. You see I have a new nurse," said Ruby, +looking up with a faint flush of pleasant excitement on her delicate +face. + +"You have to thank Mrs. Markham for bringing her to you," said Mrs. +Desmond, glad to see a smile on the usually sullen or pain-drawn little +white face. + +Ruby went forward and kissed Mrs. Markham charmingly as if she was +always loving and sweet-tempered instead of self-willed and capricious +as everyone represented her. + +"I thank you very much," she said, "I think I shall like Mary better +than the others. She is very kind and obliging. You see she is making a +new dress for my doll. Celine was too lazy. She would not dress my doll +at all." + +Mrs. Markham gave her _protege_ an encouraging smile, and Golden +blushed with pleasure. + +"She has given my new doll a name," continued Ruby, vivaciously. "It is +Golden. Do you not think it pretty? The name would suit Mary herself +I think, as she has such lovely curls, I believe I shall call her +goldilocks," she added, laying her small hand caressingly on Golden's +hair. + +Mrs. Markham smiled indulgently, but her friend looked annoyed. + +"Indeed, Ruby, you must not call her by such a silly name," she said. +"She must put her hair up, and wear a little cup over it like a French +_bonne_." + +"It is a pity to cover it up, it is so thick and long, and shines so +bright. Mary is a very pretty girl, don't you think so, mamma? She +looks just like my wax doll," said the child. + +"Pretty is that pretty does, my child," Mrs. Desmond answered, shortly, +and Mrs. Markham, stooping over Golden, put a card with her name and +address upon it, in her hand, and said in her kind, patronizing voice: + +"If you do not suit Mrs. Desmond, Mary, after she has given you a fair +trial, you may come to me, and I will help you to another place." + +The quick tears brimmed over in little Golden's eyes. She kissed Mrs. +Markham's hand in silent gratitude. + +"It is quite likely I shall keep her if she continues to please Ruby +as well as she does now. But Ruby is such a capricious little darling +there is no telling how soon this new fancy of hers may change. 'New +brooms sweep clean,' you know," said Mrs. Desmond, quoting the old +adage a little stiffly. + +Mrs. Markham made some careless reply and took her departure. She +was vaguely conscious of a chill never felt before in Mrs. Desmond's +manner, and resented her lack of gratitude for the service she had done +her. + +"The child is so pleased and interested, it will be quite a pity if she +sends Mary Smith away from her," the benevolent woman thought silently +to herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +"I am quite sure that my papa will be pleased with your looks," said +little Ruby, artlessly, when her mother had gone out and left them +alone to the doll's dressmaking. "He likes pretty faces as well as I +do. He hates Celine and the chambermaid both, because, as he says, they +are 'so deucedly ugly.'" + +"I suppose papa loves his little pet very much," said Golden, smiling +sadly at the little one's prattle. + +"Yes, indeed," said Ruby. "He gives me oceans of pretty things. But +I do not see him much, only an hour after dinner. You see, papa and +mamma are both very gay. They always go out in the evening to balls or +operas." + +Before the dinner hour Celine made her appearance with a large, white +bib-apron and neat cap for Golden's use. + +"My mistress sent you these," she said, not unkindly. "Shall I show you +how to use them, or do you know already?" + +"You will please show me," the girl answered, gently. + +Celine brought combs and brushes and arranged the bright, shining +hair in a thick plait which she wound about the small head and pinned +securely with hairpins. + +"_Ma foi_," she said, unable to repress an involuntary tribute of +admiration, "you have the most beautiful hair I ever saw." + +"Yes, and it's a shame to put a cap on it," cried Ruby. "I think +mamma is very unkind to me, I did not want Mary Smith's beautiful hair +covered!" + +"Fie, my little lady, what a funny-looking nurse-maid she would be +without her little cap," cried Celine, as she put the last touches to +the bib and cap. + +"Thank you," said Golden, as she gave a timid glance into the swinging +mirror. + +Celine noted the little incident with feminine quickness, and smiled. + +"Should you know yourself again?" she asked. + +"It makes a great difference in my appearance," little Golden replied. + +"But it does not make you any less pretty," declared Celine. "When +your hair hung down it hid all your neck. Now I see that your ears are +as pretty as sea-shells, and your neck as white as snow. You are too +good-looking for your place, Miss Smith." + +"And you are too ugly for yours!" put in Ruby, sharply. + +"Hold your tongue, Miss Pert," said the French maid, with an ugly +frown. "It's a deal better to be an ugly servant than a pretty one in +this place, and so Miss Smith will find out before long. Not as I says +it out of spite for the poor thing. She's to be pitied, being _your_ +nurse," pronounced Mademoiselle Celine as she flitted out of the room, +seeing that Golden made her no answer. Indeed the poor girl did not +know what to say. She was puzzled and frightened over the maid's pert +innuendoes, but she did not in the least comprehend what she meant. + +When Celine was gone she looked into the minor again and then at the +portrait on the wall. The hot tears came into the great, blue eyes and +blinded them. + +"Oh, Bert," she whispered inaudibly, "would you know me, would you love +me in this strange and altered guise?" + +"You must do my hair over before dinner, Mary," said the little girl. +"I always dine with mamma and papa when they have no company. You will +go with me and stand behind my chair while I am eating, to attend to my +wants." + +Golden gave a gasp of mingled pride and dread. + +"Must I indeed do that?" she asked. + +"Oh, yes, all my nurses do that way," said the child. "Now, Mary, I +must have my hair curled over, and dress for dinner just as mamma does, +you know." + +Golden found that she had a most exacting little mistress. Although +frail and diseased, the little creature never allowed her active mind +and thin, little body one moment's rest. + +She was always flying from one thing to another, and kept everyone +about her attending to her whims and fancied wants. Yet, in spite of +her capricious exactions, Golden could not help being drawn to the +child. + +The dark eyes, and the proud, sweet mouth so like those of the man she +loved, won her in spite of herself. + +At dinner, where she stood droopingly behind little Ruby's chair, the +master of the house did not even glance toward her, so that she had a +fair chance to observe him from under her heavy, curling lashes. + +The scrutiny did not satisfy her, although she could not have told how +it chanced, for Mr. Desmond was faultlessly handsome. + +He had a fair, effeminate face, full of languid passion, and those +large, long-lashed gray eyes which can shoot the most killing glances. + +His hair was parted in the middle with scrupulous exactness. His dress +was elegant to the verge of foppishness, and a magnificent diamond +sparkled on his white hand. + +His wife and little daughter seemed to regard him with the most +admiring affection, which he accepted with a bored and rather +patronizing air. + +When the long and ceremonious dinner was over, little Ruby sprang down +from her chair and caught his hand. + +"Come, papa, come, mamma," she cried, "you must go to the nursery now." + +They went away with her, and when Golden returned to the nursery later, +she found the little girl sitting on her father's knee, and chatting +volubly to him, while Mrs. Desmond was nowhere to be seen. + +Ruby jumped down from her perch and ran to Golden. + +"Papa," she said, evidently referring to some subject they had been +discussing. "I will show it to you, and you will say that I am right." + +With a quick, deft motion, she pulled the cap from Golden's head, and +loosened the braid so that the curling, rippling mass of gold fell in +a shower of beauty over the girl's shoulders. Then she cried out in +gleeful triumph: + +"Isn't it lovely, papa? Did you ever see such a pretty nurse." + +Mr. Desmond looked in amazement at the blushing, shrinking girl, and +murmured inaudibly: + +"Ye gods, what a perfect beauty!" + +At that moment the brilliant brunette, Mrs. Desmond, swept into the +room with a waft of exquisite perfume, her diamonds glittering, her +rich silk and laces rustling majestically, a white satin opera cloak +folded gracefully around her white shoulders. + +She looked at Golden so wrathfully that it froze the quick murmur of +irrepressible admiration on her lips. + +"Girl, what does this disordered appearance mean? Why is your hair down +after my strict orders?" she demanded, angrily. + +"Your daughter pulled it down, madam," Golden answered, with outward +dignity and quietness, though she was inwardly chafed and deeply +wounded. + +Mrs. Desmond turned round in a gust of passion and gave Ruby a ringing +slap on the cheek with her white, jeweled hand. + +"Take that, and behave yourself better the next time," she cried, +sharply. + +Ruby ran, screaming, to her father, and Mrs. Desmond cried out +impatiently: + +"Come, Mr. Desmond, the carriage is waiting. Mary, put the child to +bed. Good-night, Ruby." + +She bent to kiss the child good-night, but Ruby pushed her away with +an angry scream, and ran to hide her face in Golden's skirts. + +Mrs. Desmond turned away, followed by her husband, who said +reproachfully as they passed from the room: + +"You were needlessly cruel to the poor little thing Edith, my dear." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Mrs. Desmond came into the nursery the next morning with her arms full +of new toys as a propitiatory gift to her offended little daughter. + +She greeted Golden very kindly, feeling ashamed of her petulance of the +evening before, when she saw how patiently she was ministering to the +comfort of her little daughter. + +Little Ruby was suffering with a headache this morning. She lay on a +silken lounge, with her head propped on pillows, and Golden was bathing +the hot temples with _eau de cologne_. + +"Are you still pleased with your nurse, my darling?" inquired her +mother. + +"Oh, yes, mamma. Mary is the kindest nurse I ever had," answered Ruby, +lifting her heavy eyes tenderly to Golden's sweet face. + +"I am very glad to hear it," said her mother. "Does your head ache too +bad for you to take your morning drive with me, dear?" + +"Oh, no, I think it will be better when I get out in the air," said +Ruby, with a brightening face. "Shall we take my nurse with us?" + +"Not this morning, I think, as I shall drive the pony-phaeton, and +there is only room for two." + +"Will not papa go then?" said the child, disappointed. + +"No; he has a business engagement, and cannot accompany us. You see we +are going to the seaside next week, and he has a great many things to +see to first," Mrs. Desmond answered, with the child's disappointment +reflected on her own beautiful face. + +She loved her husband with the devotion of a strong, intense nature, +and begrudged every moment he spent away from her side. + +Her jealousy was as strong as her love, and Mr. Desmond was the type of +man best calculated to keep this baleful passion in the fullest play. + +He had been noted as a male flirt before he married Edith Chesleigh, +and his conduct since their union had not been of a sort to strengthen +his wife's faith in his fidelity. Beautiful as she was herself, she +soon found that he was by no means blind to the charms of other women. + +She turned to the nurse with a suppressed sigh, and said, quietly: + +"You may dress Ruby now in a white hat and dress, and cardinal sash, +while I am getting ready." + +Then she kissed Ruby and went to her dressing-room. Golden hastened to +follow her instructions. + +"We shall go to the seaside next week and stay two months. Shall you +like that, Mary?" asked the child, while Golden was brushing her dark +curls over her fingers. + +"I dare say I shall like it, if you do," replied the girl. + +"Oh, we will have a splendid time. We will go bathing in the sea in +the mornings, and afterward we will stroll on the sands, and gather +beautiful, rosy shells. At night they have balls and dancing. Sometimes +mamma lets me stay up awhile to see them dance. Oh, it is grand fun! I +wish I was a grown lady," cried the child, flapping her hands. + +Golden listened in silence, and the strange loneliness and quietude of +the life in which she had been reared, struck her more and more by its +contrast with the bright, bustling world outside and beyond Glenalvan +Hall. + +When little Ruby had gone away for her drive with her mother, she sat +down in the quiet nursery and resigned herself to thought. + +Her thought went back to the gray, old hall in the sunny south, and the +kind, old man she had deserted. She wondered if he would forgive her, +and pray for her that she might find her mother. + +"I shall never find her now," she thought. "I have lost my money, and +it will be a long time before I can earn enough to resign my situation +here, and try to find her. Mrs. Markham was so sweet and kind. I wonder +if she would help me. But, no, she would scorn me like all the rest, if +she knew the story of my poor, young mother's disgrace." + +"Good-morning, little Mary. Where is my daughter this morning?" said a +clear, musical voice. + +Golden looked up with a start, and saw Mr. Desmond, standing, tall, +debonair and handsome, in the center of the lofty apartment. He had +entered and closed the door so softly that she had not heard a sound. + +"Miss Ruby has gone out driving with her mother," she answered. + +"Ah," said Mr. Desmond. "I suppose she will not be gone long, so I will +wait here until she returns." + +He drew forward a chair quite close to hers. Golden regarded him in +surprise. + +"Miss Ruby was very anxious that you should go with her, but her mother +said you had a business engagement this morning and could not find time +to gratify her," she remarked to him, rather pointedly. + +He flushed, then laughed carelessly. + +"Oh, yes, so I did have," he replied, "I only looked in a minute to bid +Ruby good-morning." + +"Yes, sir," the nurse replied, constrainedly, and looked out of the +window. The way Mr. Desmond regarded her out of his large, bold eyes +made her feel slightly nervous. She heartily wished that he would go +away and leave her alone. + +But Mr. Desmond seemed in no haste to fulfill his business engagement. +He sat silently a moment, regarding the delicate profile of the half +averted face, then said, carelessly: + +"Where do you come from, Mary--New York?" + +"I am from the south, Mr. Desmond," said the girl, biting her lips to +keep back her resentment at his familiar address. + +"Indeed? From what part of the south?" he inquired. + +"Excuse me, sir, I do not care to reveal my private affairs to a total +stranger," replied Golden, with such sudden spirit and haughtiness that +the fine gentleman stared. + +"Whew!" he exclaimed, "I did not mean any offense, Miss Smith, I +only wished to know the precise spot where such peerless beauties as +yourself are reared. I would certainly immigrate instanter to that most +precious locality." + +Golden rose, crimson with anger, and crossed to the door. + +"Where are you going?" he inquired, following her and taking hold of +her hand. + +"I am going down stairs, Mr. Desmond," she replied coldly, and trying +to wrench her hand away. + +"Are you offended at my plain speaking?" he inquired, trying to look +into her flashing eyes. "Surely you are aware that you are beautiful?" + +"If I am, it does not become you to tell me so, sir," she replied, +resentfully. "Such compliments belong to your wife." + +"My wife is a beautiful woman, but not half so beautiful as you are, +little Mary," he replied, still keeping a tight hold on her hand. + +"Mr. Desmond, let me go," she pleaded, the angry tears crowding into +her soft blue eyes, "I will not listen to such words from you. You are +cruel and unkind. What would Mrs. Desmond say if she could see you?" + +He started uneasily, then laughed. + +"She would say I was only teasing you, as I was," he replied. "Believe +me, Mary, I was only joking you. I did not think that you would take it +as earnest or become angry. Say that you forgive me, fair one, and I +will release you." + +"Let go my hand, I forgive you," Golden replied, glad to be released on +any terms, and shrinking from him with an utter loathing and horror. + +"Thank you for your pardon," he cried, laughingly. "You must seal the +sweet pledge with a kiss, my lovely girl." + +He threw his arm around her struggling little form, clasping her +closely to his breast, and pressed a full, passionate kiss on her +loathing lips. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +At Golden's loud scream of alarm and anger, the door of Mrs. Desmond's +sleeping apartment opened suddenly, and Celine, the maid, stood aghast +upon the threshold. + +She beheld the pretty, new nurse in the arms of her master, saw his +handsome head bent over her as he kissed the beautiful crimson lips. +At Celine's startled cry he turned upon her fiercely, at the same time +releasing Golden. + +"What do you mean by spying upon my actions, Celine?" he demanded +angrily. + +"Pardon, monsieur, I meant no offense," said the maid, as smooth as +silk, "I but thought you were romping with little Miss Ruby, and looked +in to behold the little one's delight." + +Mr. Desmond saw that it was necessary to conciliate Mademoiselle Celine. + +"I did come in to see Ruby," he replied, "but she had gone to ride. So +I attempted a bit of harmless gallantry with her nurse, here, such as +most pretty girls would have taken with pleasure, but she was timid and +frightened at my little joke. Hold your tongue about it, Celine, and +here's a trifle to buy you a new cap." + +He tossed a gold piece at her feet, and Celine picked it up, curtsying +and smiling. Little Golden, standing apart from them, regarded the +scene with horror and disgust. + +Mr. Desmond, turning suddenly to her, quailed at the look of fiery +scorn in the beautiful, spirited young face. + +"Are you very angry with me, Mary?" he inquired in a subdued voice. + +"No words can do justice to my contempt for you," she replied, in a +voice of cutting scorn. "How dared you maltreat and insult me so? Shame +on you for your cruelty to a poor and helpless girl!" + +She was so beautiful in her anger that he could scarcely remove his +gaze from her face. Her cheeks were scarlet, her eyes were darkened and +dilated with anger, her lovely lips were curled disdainfully. He read +the proud purity of her young soul in every haughty movement of her +lithe young figure and clenched, white hands. + +He regarded her in silence a moment, then exclaimed with apparent +frankness: + +"Mary, I will tell you the truth, and then you will be able to pardon +my conduct. My wife told me that she had engaged you totally without +recommendation, and we both were afraid that we had run too great +a risk in intrusting our little darling to your care. I determined +therefore to test you. I have done so, and I am delighted to find that +your principles and your virtue are so steadfast and true. Are you +willing to grant me your pardon after this explanation?" + +At this specious apology the simple girl looked from the hypocrite's +anxious face to that of the maid. + +Celine being a woman, she reasoned, would tell her whether to accept +this explanation or not. + +The artful maid gave her an encouraging smile. + +"Monsieur is right," she said. "He did well to test your principles, +Miss Smith. Do not be so rude as to withhold your forgiveness after his +manly apology." + +Golden, with her slight knowledge of the wicked world, thought that Mr. +Desmond and Celine had told her the truth. She answered, falteringly, +after a moment of silence: + +"Then I will forgive you, Mr. Desmond, if you will promise not to +molest me again. Otherwise I shall return to Mrs. Markham's protection." + +"You must not think of leaving us. Ruby is so pleased with you that +it would be a shame to desert her. You need not fear me. I am quite +satisfied of your truth and worth, and my wife will be delighted when +I tell her how nobly I have proved your virtue," said Mr. Desmond, +hastily. + +Then he looked at his watch, and muttering something about his business +engagement, hurried away. + +Celine looked at Golden with an odd, significant smile. + +"Now, Miss Smith, you understand what I meant by saying that you were +too good-looking for your place," she said. + +"But I thought _he_ said, and so did you, Celine, that he was only +testing my virtue," said poor Golden, in perplexity. + +"Bah! that was only master's blarney," replied Celine, airily. "Of +course I had to agree with him, or lose my situation, and I don't +choose to do that, for I have a good place and lots of perquisites. +But the truth is that monsieur only invented that tale of testing you +because he was frightened when he found he had tackled an honest girl, +and he did not wish for the madam to get hold of it." + +"Then he is a wicked villain, and I shall go away to-day," cried the +girl, indignantly, "I love little Ruby, but I will go away, I cannot +remain." + +"If you take _my_ advice you will stay and say nothing about it," +replied the maid. "If you go to another place you are just as likely to +encounter the same difficulty. You are too pretty to be a servant. I +have told you that already." + +"But I cannot remain here and encounter the persecutions of Mr. +Desmond," replied Golden, decidedly. + +"I do not believe he will annoy you again," said Celine, confidently. +"He has found out that you are honest, and he will be afraid to pursue +you any further. The child is so pleased with you it would be a pity +to forsake her. You may take my word for it that monsieur is too much +afraid of his wife to bother you again. Why, she is so jealous that if +she knew her husband had kissed you, she would want to cut your ears +off." + +Golden shivered at Celine's vivid words. + +"It is better I should go, then," she said, with a sigh. "I would not, +for the world, create trouble between husband and wife." + +"You had better stay," said Celine. "I shall not tell of you, and you +may be pretty sure master won't. So Mrs. Desmond need never know." + +"It is better I should go," said Golden, decidedly; and then she threw +herself down upon a lounge and burst into tears. + +"Oh! why are women so weak, and men so cruel?" she wildly sobbed. + +"It's their nature," replied Celine, but Golden made her no answer. She +only continued to weep heart-brokenly. + +"I am the most miserable girl on earth," she sobbed. "I wish that I had +never been born!" + +The maid's curiosity was greatly excited by Golden's words. She knelt +down by the girl and inquired the cause of her sorrow, and promised her +her friendship and advice if she would confide in her. + +But in Golden's pure mind there was an instinctive distrust of Celine. +Her ready acceptance of her master's bribe had excited her disgust and +dislike. She answered evasively that she had nothing to confide, and +only desired to be left in peace. + +"Oh, very well, miss," replied the maid, "you can be left alone, I'm +sure, but you'll find that it's better to make a friend of Celine Duval +than an enemy." + +She flounced out of the room as she spoke, and Golden was left alone +to the companionship of her own sad thoughts. She lay silently a long +while looking at the portrait of Bertram Chesleigh, and weeping bitter +tears over her unhappy fate. How beautiful and life-like was the +picture! + +The blissful hours she had spent with the original rushed over her +mind, making the contrast with the gloom of the present more harrowing. +She found herself exclaiming: + + "Oh, that those lips had language--life has passed + With me but roughly since I heard them last." + +But no sound came from the lips of the false-hearted lover, who had +given her a few hours of happiness only to leave her to the darkness of +despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Golden had quite decided in her mind that she would rather leave Mrs. +Desmond at once, than risk a renewal of her husband's distasteful +attentions, but little Ruby's first words on returning from her drive, +dispelled the idea for the present at least from her thoughts. + +"Oh, Mary!" the little one had cried, with childish directness, as soon +as she entered the room. "Oh, Mary! I have heard bad news!" + +"I am very sorry for you, dear," said Golden, gently. + +Ruby looked up into the face of her uncle, where it hung against the +wall. + +"Oh, poor Uncle Bertie!" she sighed. + +"Was it about Mr. Chesleigh, Ruby?" she inquired. + +"Yes," said the child. "Mamma has had a telegram from some people about +him. He is very sick, and he is away down south at a place called +Glenalvan Hall." + +Golden drew her breath heavily, and sank into a chair. It seemed as if +an arrow had pierced her heart. She could not speak, but stared at Ruby +with a dumb misery in her eyes, that the little one could in nowise +understand. + +"Some of us will have to go to him--mamma and papa, I suppose," +continued Ruby. "I asked mamma to let me go, but she says it would be +too warm for me at this time of the year in the south, because I am so +delicate." + +"Is he very sick? Will he die?" inquired Golden, speaking in a strange, +unnatural voice. + +"They hope not, but he is very sick," said Ruby; and at that moment +Mrs. Desmond swept into the room. + +Her bright eyes looked dim and heavy as though she might have been +weeping. + +"I am very sorry you have had bad news, madam," said Golden, trying to +appear quiet and natural, though her pulse was beating at fever-heat, +and her eyes were heavy and dim beneath their drooping lashes. + +"Ruby has told you of my brother's illness, then," said Mrs. Desmond, +more gently than she usually spoke to her dependents. + +"Yes, madam," said Golden, faintly, unable to utter another word. + +"He has brain fever," said Mrs. Desmond, despondently. "Mr. Desmond +will leave for the south to-night, and if he is no better when he +arrives, he will telegraph for me to go to him. He is unwilling for me +to go if it can be prevented, as it is so warm down there at this time +of year. Besides, I am unwilling to leave Ruby, and I could not run the +risk of taking her." + +She threw herself into a chair, and wept a few genuine tears. + +Little Golden, watching her with dry eyes and pale, mute lips, wondered +if the sister's heart ached half so heavily and painfully as her own +did. + +"Yet why should I grieve for him?" the poor child asked herself. "I +should rather rejoice. He has forsaken and deserted me." + +She could find no answer to that question in her heart, save that she +loved him. Loved him in despite of her cruel wrongs. + +Before night another telegram was received, saying that Bertram +Chesleigh had asked repeatedly for his sister. So it was decided that +Mrs. Desmond should accompany her husband. + +"Mary, do you think that you and the housekeeper can take care of my +little Ruby while I am gone?" inquired Mrs. Desmond, tearfully. + +Golden promised so earnestly to give her whole care and attention +to the little one that Mrs. Desmond could not help confiding in her +promise. + +The child herself, though half-distracted with grief at the parting +with her parents, promised bravely to be a good and patient girl for +Uncle Bertie's sake. + +Celine was to accompany her mistress, and was in a bustle of pleasant +preparation. The hours passed swiftly, and the time for the farewells +soon came and passed. + +Little Ruby sobbed herself to sleep dismally, with her arms around +Golden's neck, unconscious that the girl shed sadder tears than her +own, when her little charge was peacefully dreaming. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"The slow, sad hours that bring us all things ill," waned slowly, while +Golden and Ruby waited impatiently for news of the travelers. + +Ruby was very restless and capricious, besides her daily headaches grew +worse as the heat of the summer season advanced. She fretted very much +over her postponed trip to the seaside. + +At length a telegram came from the travelers to say that they had +reached Glenalvan Hall, and Mr. Chesleigh was no better. After this +these bulletins came almost daily, but with no encouraging words. Very +ill, and no prospect of improvement yet, was their daily burden. + +In about two weeks Mr. Desmond returned unexpectedly. + +Ruby was overjoyed. She laughed and wept together, as she hung around +his neck. + +"Uncle Bertie must be better, or you would not have returned," she +cried. + +But her father shook his head gravely. + +"No, dear, I am sorry to say he is not improving at all. Indeed the +case is so critical that it may be weeks before your mother can return. +That is why I have come." + +"Shall you go back, then?" inquired Ruby. + +"Yes, in about a week. Have you fretted for us very much, Ruby?" + +"A great deal," she replied. "Oh, papa," clapping her little hands, +"now I know why you have come back. You are going to take me to mamma +and Uncle Bert." + +"Nothing is further from my intentions," replied Mr. Desmond. "I have +come to take you to the seashore." + +"The seashore--while my uncle is so ill?" cried the child, a little +surprised. + +"Yes, Ruby. You must remember your own health is very frail. Your +mother is very anxious about you. You will go to the seashore in the +care of Mrs. Markham. Will that arrangement please you?" + +"Very much," smiled Ruby. "I love Mrs. Markham. Of course I shall take +my nurse?" + +"Yes, of course," he replied, then inquired, carelessly: "Are you still +satisfied with Mary Smith?" + +"Oh, yes, Mary is a splendid girl--I do not intend ever to part from +her," replied the child, enthusiastically, "I am quite getting over my +sulky spells since she came. Mary does not tease and cross me as the +others did." + +Golden, who had sat sewing quietly by the window, without ever lifting +her eyes from her work since Mr. Desmond entered, crimsoned painfully +at thus having his attention drawn upon her. + +But he took no notice of her except to say patronizingly: + +"I am glad you have found such a treasure, Ruby. I hope she will remain +with you. Are you willing to accompany Ruby to the seaside, Mary?" + +"Yes, sir," she answered, quietly. + +"Very well, I will go and see Mrs. Markham now. If she can go by the +last of the week I will accompany the party and see you all safely +settled before I return south." + +Golden made him no answer, thinking that none was necessary, and he +went out to call on Mrs. Markham. + +It was all carried out as Mr. Desmond wished. In the latter part of the +week he accompanied the party to the seashore, saw them installed in +comfortable quarters, and after staying two days took leave again. + +During his short stay, he enjoyed himself according to his flirting +tastes with the lively seaside belles. + +In her capacity of Ruby's nurse Golden was compelled to see him a great +deal, but he treated her at all times with such subdued respect and +delicate attention that the girl grew less afraid of him, and began +to think that Celine was right when she said he would abandon his +pursuit of her now that he had found out she was an honest girl. She +did not know that Mr. Desmond's quiet respect and delicate courtesy +was more dangerous than his former open advances had been. Still she +was relieved when he was gone, and she was left alone with little Ruby +and Mrs. Markham, who was very kind to the lonely girl though in a +decidedly patronizing fashion. + +When Golden and Ruby had been at the seaside a month with Mrs. Markham, +the glad tidings that Mr. Chesleigh was beginning to improve, were +conveyed to little Ruby in a short but affectionate letter from her +mother. + + "Your dear uncle has had a great fight for his life, but the doctor + now says that he is likely to get well," Mrs. Desmond wrote. "If he + continues to improve, we shall be able to start home with him in + about two weeks, journeying slowly. We will join you then at the + seaside, as the physician thinks that a month by the sea will quite + restore Bertram's health." + +It was Golden's task to read this letter to the little six-year-old, +whose education, owing to her extreme frailty of constitution, had not +yet commenced. + +The child cried out noisily for joy at the welcome news, but Golden +said not a word. Yet her thoughts were very busy. + +"I shall see him again very soon," she said to herself. "Will he +recognize, in his sister's servant, the girl that loved him so dearly?" + +Then the thought came to her that he would not wish to see her again; +she had no part nor lot in his life henceforth, by his own desire. + +Musing sadly by the great, moaning sea, while little Ruby gathered +the rosy-tinted shells along the sands, she murmured to herself those +sweet, pathetic lines of Owen Meredith: + + "Oh, being of beauty and bliss! Seen and known + In the depths of my heart, and possessed there alone, + My days know thee not, and my lips name thee never, + Thy place in my poor life is vacant forever; + We have met, we have parted, + No name is recorded + In my annals on earth." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +In few more days Mrs. Markham received a letter from Mrs. Desmond. Her +brother was so much better that she had quite recovered the tone of her +spirits, and wrote, cheerfully: + + "If nothing more happens, I shall be with you the first of September. + Bertram will be with me, and I shall also bring a very charming + young lady whom I have invited to spend the winter months with me + in New York. She is the daughter of our host, and has been Bert's + unwearied attendant throughout his illness. Between you and me, dear + friend, she is so desperately in love with my brother, that she has + neither eyes nor ears for anyone else. She has a younger sister whom + I have not invited. I do not like her. She is the most abominable + flirt I ever saw, and has done nothing but make eyes at Mr. Desmond + since we came to Glenalvan Hall." + +"Glenalvan Hall," mused Mrs. Markham, holding the letter in her hand, +and drawing her eyebrows thoughtfully together. "How familiar the word +sounds! Where have I heard it?" + +She puzzled over it awhile, then gave it up. In the gay whirl of +fashionable society, she had forgotten the pretty name of the poor girl +she had befriended. + +But she carried her letter into Ruby's room and read it aloud to her, +and Golden's cheeks that had grown very pale and delicate of late, grew +paler still. + +"Elinor is coming," she said to herself, in dismay. "What shall I do?" + +She thought at first that she would go away quietly before they came. + +She could not stay and face her proud cousin, Elinor, and the man who +had loved her, and then despised her for the stain upon her. + +But the thought came into her mind, where would she go? She had never +received any of her wages from Mrs. Desmond yet. If she went away she +would be utterly friendless and penniless. + +She clung to little Ruby because the child loved her very dearly, and +without her love she was utterly alone. + +And underlying all was a fierce, passionate longing she could not +still, to see Bertram Chesleigh's face once more, to hear again that +musical, luring voice, whose accents she had hung upon so fondly. + +A few days before the first of September, she turned timidly to Mrs. +Markham, who was amusing herself with little Ruby down on the sands. + +"Mrs. Markham," she said, "will you tell me this, please? Are not green +glasses good for weak eyes?" + +"I have heard so," replied the lady. "Are your eyes weak, Mary?" + +She looked into the girl's face as she spoke, and saw that the sweet, +blue eyes were dull and heavy. + +How was she to guess that sleepless nights and bitter tears had dimmed +their sapphire sparkle. + +"Are your eyes weak, Mary?" she repeated, seeing that the girl +hesitated. + +A blush tinged the pearly cheek, and Golden glanced out at the +foam-crested waves rolling in toward the shore. + +"I think that the glare of the sun on the sands, and on the water, is +very weakening to the sight," she replied, evasively. + +"So it is. I have heard others complain of the same thing. If the +light affects your eyes I would advise you, by all means, to wear the +glasses." + +"Thank you. I believe I will try a pair," returned Golden. + +"Oh, Mary, you will be a perfect fright, if you do!" cried out little +Ruby, in childish disapproval. "You have covered up all your long, gold +hair under that ugly cap, and now, if you cover up your pretty, blue +eyes, you will be as horrid-looking as--as--I don't know what!" + +"Never mind the looks, my dear," said Mrs. Markham, in her gentle way. +"If Mary is kind and loving at heart her looks will not signify." + +"But I do so love pretty things," said the child, "and I love to look +at Mary. She looks like a picture at night when she combs out her +shining hair over her shoulders. There is not a lady at the seaside +this summer as pretty as my nurse!" + +"Fie, my dear; you must not make Mary vain," cried the lady, half +smiling. + +"I want to ask you a favor, Mrs. Markham," said Golden, blushing very +much. + +"A favor! What is it, Mary?" asked Mrs. Markham, encouragingly. + +Golden glanced down at her blue cashmere dress, which had grown very +shabby and worn during the two months she had been in little Ruby's +service. + +"You see I had lost all my money when I went into Mrs. Desmond's +service," she said falteringly, "and I have not received any of my +wages yet, and--and I am getting too shabby to be respectable-looking." + +That was little Golden's plea, but the truth was that she did not +wish her Cousin Elinor and Bertram Chesleigh to recognize her, and so +wished to lay aside the blue cashmere which had been her best dress at +Glenalvan Hall. + +"Oh, you poor child!" burst out Mrs. Markham, "why did you never tell +me that before? I see, now; you want me to lend you the money to buy a +new dress." + +"If you will be so very, very kind," faltered Golden, gratefully. + +"I will do it with the greatest pleasure," answered Mrs. Markham, whose +purse was ever open to the needy and distressed. + +So on the first of September little Golden appeared in quite an altered +guise. The pretty, blue cashmere that was so becoming to her rose-leaf +complexion was laid aside, and she wore a sober, dark-gray dress, so +long and plain that she looked a great deal taller and older. She +had pinned a dark silk handkerchief high up around her white throat, +thus concealing its fairness and graceful contour. She had fashioned +herself a huge, abominable cap that hid every wave of her golden +hair. Dark-green spectacles were fastened before the bright, blue +eyes, and with her long, tucked, white apron, little Golden made the +primmest-looking nurse-maid that could have been imagined. She looked +in the mirror and decided that no one who had known her at Glenalvan +Hall would recognize her now. + +But little Ruby exclaimed dolorously at her strange appearance: + +"Oh, Mary, you have made yourself quite ugly!" she cried, "and I had +been thinking how I would show Uncle Bert my pretty nurse." + +"Oh, Ruby, you must not!" cried Golden, in terror. "Promise me you will +not." + +"Will not--what?" asked the little one, surprised. + +"Will not show me to Mr. Chesleigh, nor tell him that you think I am +pretty," said Golden, in alarm. + +"Very well, I won't," said the little one, disappointed, "but I am very +sorry, for I am sure Uncle Bertie would be glad to know that I have a +good and pretty nurse. He used to laugh at the ugly ones, and he said +their faces were so horrid it was not strange they were bad tempered." + +"There is another thing I want you to promise me, please, darling," +said Golden, who was on the best of terms with her little charge. + +"What is it, Mary?" inquired the child. + +"When your uncle comes to sit and talk with you, Ruby, you must let me +run away and stay until he leaves you." + +"Why should you do that?" asked Ruby. + +"I have some sewing to do," replied Golden, evasively. + +"I know, but you always do your sewing with me," said Ruby. + +"You see it would be quite different with a man in the way." + +"Uncle Bert would not bother you one bit. I cannot see why you are +afraid of him," rejoined the child. + +"But I do not like men, Ruby. I do not like to be where a man is. Now, +dear, will you excuse me?" pleaded Golden. + +"Yes, I will, since you insist on it," answered Ruby. "But I can't see +what makes you hate men! Now I like them. I like papa, I like Uncle +Bert, and I shall like my husband when I grow big enough to have one. +Do you ever intend to have a husband, Mary?" said the child, with a +child's thoughtlessness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +The beautiful color surged hotly into Golden's cheeks at Ruby's artless +question. She turned her head away to hide the pain that made her sweet +lips quiver. + +"Mary, do you ever intend to have a husband?" repeated the child. + +"Hush, Ruby. You are too young to talk about husbands," answered Golden. + +"Dear me, is my daughter contemplating marriage?" cried a gay, sweet +voice, and, looking up, they saw Mrs. Desmond in her traveling wraps, +dusty and weary, but looking very glad and eager at seeing her child +again. + +Ruby sprang to her arms, and Golden looked on with sympathetic tears in +her eyes at the happy reunion of the mother and child. Mrs. Desmond did +not seem to see her until she had fairly smothered Ruby in kisses, when +she looked up and said, approvingly: + +"How do you do, Mary? That is a very nice new dress--quite suitable to +you." + +After a minute she said, suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred +to her: + +"By the way, you have never yet received any of your wages from me. +Here are twenty dollars for two months. I am very glad you have taken +such good care of Ruby." + +Golden thanked her and took the money, but the gold seemed to burn +the delicate palm. It was hard to be receiving a servant's wages from +Bertram Chesleigh's sister. + +"Where is papa and Uncle Bert?" asked Ruby. + +"Papa will be here directly. Bert is very tired--he has gone to his +room to rest. You must not go to him yet." + +"And the young lady, mamma--she came?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Is she pretty, mamma? Has she blue eyes, or black?" + +"She is decidedly handsome, and her eyes are black." + +"Do you like her, mamma?" + +"Quite well, dear. She is very charming. I will tell you a secret. +Perhaps she will be your auntie some day." + +"Is she going to marry Uncle Bert?" inquired Ruby, wide-eyed. + +"Nothing is settled yet, dear. But it seems probable. Bert could not +find a more brilliant Mrs. Chesleigh." + +"I do not wish for Uncle Bert to marry. I shall tell him so!" cried +Ruby. + +"Fie, little selfishness, you will do no such thing! He ought to marry +and settle down at home. We should not then have to be running after +him in every out-of-the-way place where he chooses to fall sick. Here I +have been by his sick-bed all summer, ruining my health and missing the +whole season by the sea!" + +"How gladly I would have exchanged places with you," moaned little +Golden, to herself. + +"Mamma, did you like Glenalvan Hall?" inquired Ruby. + +"Oh, very much, though it is little better than a ruin. It must have +been quite a grand place once. It is beautiful still in its decay. The +owners were ruined by the late war." + +Oh, how anxiously beautiful Golden longed to hear one word from her old +grandfather and her black mammy. She listened with a beating heart to +the lady's words, but she never named the two that little Golden loved +so dearly, and after awhile she rose and said that Celine was waiting +for her, and she must go. + +Little Ruby clung to her dress. + +"Mayn't I go?" she pleaded, and Mrs. Desmond yielding a smiling assent, +they went away together, and left Golden alone in the room. + +Alone, with her young heart full of strange, troubled joy. Bertram +Chesleigh was here, under the same roof with her. + +She should see him, she should hear him once again. There was a bitter, +troubled pleasure in the thought. + +She could not bear the tumult of oppressive thoughts that rushed over +her mind. To escape them she went in quest of Mrs. Markham, and paid +her the money she had borrowed from her a few days before. + +Then she went back to the room to wait for little Ruby, but the child +was so preoccupied with her friends that she did not return to her room +during the day. + +At twilight she came flitting in joyously as a little fairy. + +"Oh, Mary, I have had such a charming day! And you must dress me now +in my white lace dress over the pink satin slip, and my white satin +slippers, and embroidered rose-silk stockings. I am going to stay up +for the ball to-night. Won't that be splendid?" + +Golden looked a little anxiously at the moist, flushed face and +shining, dark eyes. + +"Darling, let me persuade you to lie down on the sofa and rest awhile," +she urged. "You have had such a busy, exciting day, that you need rest. +To-morrow you will have one of your bad headaches." + +"Oh, no I am not tired one bit. And mamma and Miss Glenalvan are gone +to dress now. I must be ready when they call for me," urged Ruby. + +"I suppose Miss Glenalvan is very pretty, is she not, Ruby?" said +Golden, as she combed and brushed the little girl's long, shining, +black ringlets. + +"Oh, yes, she is very pretty--she has large, black eyes, and rosy +cheeks, and splendid hair, but she is not beautiful like you, Mary," +was the prompt reply. + +"You must not let Miss Glenalvan hear you say that," said Golden. "She +would be displeased." + +"Hump!" said Ruby, carelessly, then she flew to another subject, while +Golden trembled nervously. "Uncle Bert is looking wretchedly ill. Ouch, +Mary, what _did_ make you jerk that curl so? His eyes are as big as +saucers. Are you almost done? You pull my hair dreadfully. I asked +him if he was going to marry Miss Glenalvan. He said that was a silly +question. Mary, what has come over you? You were never so rough with my +head before." + +"There, it is finished now. I did not mean to hurt you; excuse me, +dear," faltered Golden, as she laid out the white lace dress and satin +slippers for the eager child. + +"All right, I am not angry," said Ruby. "I told Uncle Bert what a kind +girl you were, and he was delighted to hear it. I wanted to tell him +you were pretty, too, but I didn't, as you didn't want him to know +_that_. But I can tell you one thing, Mary, if he ever sees you, he +will find out for himself." + +"What! in this great cap and glasses?" cried Golden, alarmed. + +"Yes, indeed; you can't hide your round cheeks, and your red mouth, and +your dimpled chin!" cried the child, in pretty triumph. + +"I can keep out of Mr. Chesleigh's way, anyhow," Golden replied, as she +buttoned the pretty dress and clasped a slight gold chain around the +white neck of the child. + +"Now you are quite finished," she said. "You look very sweet, and I +hope you will enjoy yourself very much." + +"Thank you," said the little girl, impulsively kissing her; then she +added, a little pityingly: "It is a pity _you_ cannot be dressed in +white, and go to the ball, too, Mary. Do you never wish to?" + +"Sometimes," admitted Golden, with her sweet frankness, and a soft, +little sigh. + +Ruby studied her attentively a moment, her dark head perched daintily +like a bird's. + +"I should like to see you in a ball-dress," she said. "It should be a +white lace over blue satin, and looped with violets. You should have +large, white pearls around your neck, and your hair hanging down and a +_bandeau_ of pearls to bind it. It is a great pity you are not rich, +Mary. People say that you are too pretty to be a servant." + +Something like a sob rose in Golden's throat and was hardly repressed. +They had told her this so often. + +She was beautiful, but it had only brought her sorrow. To her, as her +mother, had been given-- + + "The fatal gift of beauty which became + A funeral dower of present woes and past." + +"I am very sorry I am so pretty, Ruby," she said, sorrowfully, and the +child answered, quickly: + +"I would not be sorry if I were you, Mary. Some good man will fall in +love with your pretty face some day and marry you." + +Golden made no reply to this well-meant solace, for the door opened to +admit Mrs. Desmond, followed by her young lady guest. + +Golden retreated shyly to the furthest corner of the room. She was face +to face at last with her haughty cousin Elinor. She drooped her head a +moment sadly, while a flood of memories rushed over her, then bravely +lifted it again and looked at the young lady through her disfiguring +green glasses. + +Elinor Glenalvan only glanced with careless indifference at the +prim-looking figure of the nurse, then her large, black eyes turned +away again, so that Golden had time to observe her with impunity. + +The Glenalvans had exerted themselves to the utmost to secure an outfit +for Elinor. The result did credit to their efforts. The girl was +certainly dazzling. + +She wore cream-colored _moire_, trimmed with rich Spanish lace and +cardinal satin. Great clusters of Jaqueminot roses burned on her bosom +and in her shining, raven hair. + +The costly pearl necklace that John Glenalvan had taken from Golden was +clasped around her white throat. + +A throb of resentment stirred the young girl's breast as she observed +it. + +Mrs. Desmond wore white lace looped with diminutive and richly-colored +sunflowers. Her jewels were diamonds, and she was as usual brilliantly +beautiful and graceful. Golden caught her breath in awed admiration of +the two beautiful women. + +"Are you ready, Ruby?" inquired Mrs. Desmond. + +"Yes, mamma," said the child, blithely. + +All three went out then, and Golden threw a dark shawl over her head +and went out upon the seashore. + +It was a moonlight night, calm and still, with that slight chill in the +air that comes with September. + +She sat down, a quiet, forlorn little figure on the lonely sands, and +watched the great foam-capped waves rolling in to her feet. + +Something in the immensity and solemnity of the great ocean seemed to +calm the turbulence of the fevered young heart and whisper a gentle +"peace, be still," to the passions that racked her wronged and outraged +spirit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +As Golden had feared, little Ruby's day and night of excitement proved +too much for her. She was unable to rise from her bed the next morning, +being prostrated by one of her nervous headaches. + +To add to her ill-feeling, damp, rainy weather set in during the night, +spoiling all the pleasant plans of the newly-arrived party for the day. + +Golden darkened the room, lighted a fire on the hearth, and carefully +tended the little patient who dozed fitfully until mid-day, when she +awakened and declared herself better. + +"Has no one been in to see me, Mary?" she inquired, and Golden answered: + +"Yes, your mamma came to the door while you were sleeping, but went +away again, saying that she would not disturb your rest." + +"You may go and tell her to come now, Mary." + +"I think she is with your uncle just now, dear. Cannot you wait a +little while?" said Golden. "She said she would go to him a little +while, as you were asleep. + +"No, I cannot wait," replied Ruby fretfully. "Tell mamma to bring Uncle +Bert with her." + +"If you have too much company your head will ache again, Ruby." + +"No, it will not. It is ever so much better. Why don't you do as I ask +you, Mary?" cried the spoiled child. + +Golden went out without any further objection. She asked Celine, whom +she met in the hall, to deliver Ruby's message to her mother and her +uncle. + +Celine looked into the sick-room a minute later to say that they were +engaged just at present, but would come in about fifteen minutes. + +"Oh, dear," fretted the ailing little one, "that is a long time to +wait. Give me my dolls, Mary. I'll try to amuse myself with them." + +Golden brought the miscellaneous family of dolls and ranged them around +Ruby on the bed, chatting pleasantly to her the while in the hope of +lessening the weariness of waiting. + +"You must keep your promise and let me go out when they come," she +said, presently, feeling that she was growing so nervous she could not +possibly remain in the same room with Bertram Chesleigh. + +"Very well; you may go into the next room," replied the child. + +"You may leave the door just a little ajar that I may call you when I +want you." + +"I hope you will not want me until they are gone out again," replied +Golden. + +When the expected rap came on the door, the girl opened it with a +trembling hand. She did not look up as Mrs. Desmond and her brother +entered, but softly closing the door after them, glided precipitately +from the room. + +Bertram Chesleigh saw the little, retreating figure in the huge cap and +gray gown, and laughed as he kissed his little niece. + +"I suppose that was Mary Smith, the prodigy?" he said. + +"Yes, and you must not laugh at her," said Ruby, a little resentfully. +"She is very good and sweet, and I love her dearly." + +There was an element of teasing in Bertram Chesleigh's nature, and +Ruby's words roused it into activity. + +"She looked very prim and starched," he observed. "She must be an old +maid--is she not, Ruby?" + +He expected that the little girl would grow indignant at this comment +on her favorite, but instead of this she puckered her little brows +thoughtfully. + +"I don't quite know what you mean by an old maid," she replied. + +"You are caught in the trap, Bert. You will have to define yourself," +said Mrs. Desmond, laughingly. + +"I don't know whether I can," he replied as gayly. "But I think, Ruby, +that an old maid is a person who--who doesn't like men, and grows old +and never marries." + +"Then my nurse is an old maid. You guessed right, Uncle Bert," said the +child, with perfect soberness. + +"Why do you think so, my dear?" inquired her mother, very much amused +at the child's notion. + +"Because I know it, mamma. Mary Smith hates men. She told me she did. +She does not like to be where men are. That is why she went out just +now. She says she will always stay out of the room when Uncle Bert is +with me." + +"That is very sensible indeed in Mary," said Mrs. Desmond, with decided +approval, while Bertram Chesleigh only laughed and said that men were +not ogres, and he would not have eaten Miss Smith even if she had +remained in the room. + +Meanwhile Golden had retreated to the sitting-room, leaving the door +ajar as Ruby had bidden her. + +Every word of the conversation which had so strangely turned upon +herself was distinctly audible. + +She listened in fear and trembling to Ruby's disclosures regarding +her antipathy to men, dreading to hear some further revelation that +would draw suspicion upon her, but the child had no idea of imparting +anything she had promised to keep a secret, and the conversation +gradually turned upon indifferent subjects, so that Golden, whose heart +was beating wildly at the sound of her lover's voice, ventured at last +on a sly peep at him through the open door. + +The breath came thick and fast over the sweet parted lips as she +gazed--hardly as he had used her, the ineffable love and pity of a +woman's heart came up to the beautiful blue eyes, and shone out upon +the unconscious ingrate who dreamed not whose eyes were yearning over +him with all the pain and pathos of a loving, yet outraged heart. + +"Oh, how pale and ill he looks," cried the poor child to herself. +"He looks sad and altered, too. He has suffered almost as much as I +have. Was it that which made him ill, I wonder? After all, he loved me +dearly. But if he had overlooked the shame of my birth and brought me +here, his sister would have scorned me. Ought I to blame him so very, +very much?" + +As she asked herself the piteous question, the memory of some words +rose into her mind--solemn words not to be lightly forgotten. + +"Will you, forsaking all others, cleave only unto her, so long as ye +both shall live?" + +By the light of those words, Golden answered her own question. With a +tearless sob she turned her eyes away from the too dear face of the +false one. + +But though she would not look at him, she could not help hearing his +voice as he answered little Ruby's voluble chatter. + +Presently the child showed him her great, wax doll, and when he had +admired it sufficiently to please her, she said with an air of mystery: + +"You could not guess dollie's name if you tried all day, Uncle Bertie." + +"It is something high-flown, no doubt," he laughed. "It is Queen +Victoria, or Princess Louise, or something like that." + +"You are quite wrong," she replied, with sparkling eyes. + +"Am I? Well, I have it now. You have called her Mary Smith, after your +old-maid nurse." + +"No, I have not," said the little one, merrily. "I have called her +Golden--Golden Chesleigh." + +In the next breath she added, quickly: + +"Oh, Uncle Bert, what made you start just as if someone had shot you?" + +"Did I start?" he inquired. "It must have been because I am very +nervous since my illness. Well, and what did you say your elegant doll +was named?" + +"Did you not understand me before? It is Golden Chesleigh--Chesleigh +after you, Uncle Bert. Is it not a pretty name?" + +"Very!" he rejoined, pale to the lips. "Did you think of it yourself, +Ruby?" + +"Not at all; I asked Mary for a name, and she said Golden. Then I added +Chesleigh." + +Some curiosity came over him to see the good nurse who loved Ruby and +was kind to her, but who hated men, and who had chosen for the pretty +wax doll, the sweet and unusual name of Golden. + + * * * * * + +There came a light tap on the outer door. Mrs. Desmond rose to open it. +Golden peeped again and saw her cousin Elinor coming in. + +"May I come in and see the invalid?" she asked, brightly, and Bertram +Chesleigh answered: + +"Yes, do, Miss Glenalvan. Ruby is better and is holding a levee of her +humble subjects." + +Elinor kissed the child and sat down as near as she dared to Mr. +Chesleigh. + +She looked very bright and blooming, and her dress was as usual +fashionable and becoming. + +Golden could see that Mrs. Desmond regarded her with a real fondness. +Elinor had found out the lady's weakness and played upon it skillfully. + +She saw that she was jealous of her husband, and immediately affected +an indifference to, and an utter obliviousness of the fascinations of +the handsome Mr. Desmond, that delighted his wife and drew her heart to +Elinor. + +Clare, on the contrary, had an uncontrollable propensity for flirting, +and took a malicious pleasure in witnessing the grand lady's silent +rage at her walks and talks, and careless enjoyment of her flippant +husband's society. + +The result was that Elinor received a charmingly worded invitation to +return to the north with Mrs. Desmond, while Clare was silently and +chillingly ignored. + +She was bitterly angry at missing the trip, and sorely repented her +weakness, but too late for the repentance to avail, while Elinor was +transported with delight. + +Surely, she thought, a whole winter in New York, with beautiful Golden +out of the way, would be sufficient for the accomplishment of her +designs upon Bertram Chesleigh's heart. + +Sweet Golden read her cousin's purpose plainly in the tender glances +she gave Mr. Chesleigh now and then, from beneath her black-fringed +lashes, and the heart of the innocent girl sank heavily. + +"She will win him from me," she said, drearily to herself. "Elinor is +so beautiful, and graceful, and brilliant, it is a wonder that he ever +liked me better than he did her. It was but a light fancy after all, +perhaps. He will forget it and turn to her." + +The thought gave her inexpressible pain. + +She sank upon the floor and hid her face in her hands, weeping silent +and bitter tears while the hum of gay talk and laughter flowed on +unheeded in the next room. + +So it is ever in the busy, jostling world. Sorrow and joy go side by +side. + +The bridal train meets the funeral procession. Life is mingled sunshine +and shadow. + +Ah, if Bertram Chesleigh could only have known what true and faithful +little heart was breaking so near him. + +After awhile the brightness died from Ruby's eyes, the little face +looked tired and wan. She said, almost petulantly: + +"Now I shall send you all away. Miss Glenalvan laughs so much she makes +my head ache." + +"Fie, my darling," cried her mother. + +"It is the truth, mamma," cried the willful little girl. "I want you +all to go now and Mary shall bathe my head until I get better." + +"Who is Mary? I feel quite jealous of her," said Elinor, sweetly, but +inwardly raging at the spoiled child's "whims" as she termed them to +herself. + +"Mary is my nurse," said the child, and her uncle laughingly added: + +"A person with antipathy to me, Miss Glenalvan. You should cultivate +her. She must be a _rara avis_." + +"Do you suppose that all women admire your sex, sir?" retorted the +young lady, spiritedly, and they left the room exchanging lively +_badinage_, while Mrs. Desmond looked inside the other door for Golden. + +She saw her sitting quietly, her sweet face bent over some sewing, no +trace apparent of the heartache she was silently enduring. + +"Mary, you may come to your charge now," she said with so much more +than her usual kindness of tone that Golden's delicate lip quivered. +Mrs. Desmond had been pleased to hear that Ruby's beautiful nurse +disliked men and was not willing to remain in the room with one. + +She laid aside her sewing and went in to Ruby. Mrs. Desmond bent to +kiss her pet, and said, fondly: + +"Shall I stay and bathe your head, love?" + +"No, mamma, I would rather have Mary," she replied. + +"I shall be jealous of Mary. You are so fond of her," the mother +rejoined as she left the room. + +Golden put the dolls away and bathed the brow of the little sufferer +until she fell into a deep and quiet sleep. + +Then she sat near the window and watched the gloomy September rain +pattering drearily down, and the white mist rising from the sea. + +The door opened and Celine came in softly, and sat down. + +"I want to talk to you a little, Mary," she said, in her low voice. +"Shall I disturb the child?" + +"Not if you talk softly," replied Golden, hoping that Celine would tell +her something about Glenalvan Hall. + +She was not disappointed, for the maid said at once: + +"I want to tell you about a queer old black woman I saw at that place +where Mr. Chesleigh was ill--Glenalvan Hall," watching her narrowly. + +Golden started and looked up eagerly. + +"Yes, tell me about her, Celine," she said, with repressed excitement. + +"Well, to begin with," said Celine, "she was a most ridiculous-looking +old creature, full of grumblings and complaints. This old creature when +she found I was from New York, came to me secretly, and asked me the +oddest question." + +Golden, chancing to look up at that moment, met Celine's eyes fixed +upon her with such a strange expression that her heart gave a +frightened bound. It was evident that the maid had some suspicions of +her. + +She forced a calmness she did not feel, and replied carelessly: + +"The blacks, you know, Celine, are very ignorant. Their questions +appear quite ridiculous sometimes to intelligent and well-informed +people." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +Celine looked cunningly at Golden, as she made her confused explanation. + +"You seem to be well acquainted with the character of the negroes," she +said. "Perhaps you have been in the south." + +"I have," replied Golden, with sudden, pretty defiance. "It was my +birth-place." + +"Where? Glenalvan Hall?" asked Celine, thinking to catch her. + +"I did not say that," replied Golden, coolly. + +"No? Well, I will tell you what that old woman--Dinah, she was called, +asked me about a young lady." + +Golden lifted her eyes and regarded her bravely. + +"Well?" she said. + +"She asked me," continued Celine, "if I had seen a young girl in New +York of about sixteen, with large, blue eyes, and long, golden curls, +dressed in a blue cashmere dress, and hat and jacket, I told her yes, +for her description of the lady's appearance corresponded exactly with +yours." + +Golden remained perfectly silent, her eyes turned resolutely from +Celine. + +"She asked me," the maid continued, "if the young girl had found her +mother." + +Golden could not repress a sudden, violent start. + +"Aha," cried Celine, quickly. "You see I am acquainted with your whole +history!" + +"You know nothing about me whatever, Celine," replied Golden, warmly, +"and I cannot see by what right you pry into my affairs." + +"Oh, well, if we are so hoity-toity, we can keep our secret," returned +Celine, scornfully, "but somebody will find that it was better to have +made a friend than an enemy of Celine Duval!" + +With these ambiguous words, Celine bounced out of the room, leaving +poor little Golden terribly frightened and distressed. + +She silently resolved that she would leave Mrs. Desmond the next day, +proceed to New York, and make an effort to find her mother. + +Meanwhile the irate maid had gone to Elinor's room. Mrs. Desmond had +kindly promised to allow Celine to superintend her toilet while they +remained at the seaside, and she was waiting now for the Frenchwoman to +arrange her hair. + +Celine had become possessed of Golden's secret, and she was determined +to make capital out of it for herself. + +Elinor was quite chatty and confidential with the skillful French maid. +In a very few moments while she was braiding the young lady's hair she +had dropped a few artful hints and innuendoes that made Elinor start up +half wild with fear and terror. + +"Oh, no, Celine, you must have imagined it. It is too incredible to +believe!" + +"I do not ask you to believe _my_ simple word, Miss Glenalvan," replied +Celine. "Look at the girl yourself, ma'am, and then you can tell me if +my suspicions are well founded." + +Elinor looked at her blankly for a moment. The maid returned her gaze +with unruffled serenity. + +"Only take a good look at her yourself, miss," she repeated. + +"How am I to do so without exciting her suspicions?" demanded Elinor. + +"Easily enough," replied the wily French maid. "Go back to the room and +pretend to have lost some trifle. Get her to go down on her knees to +find it and you can obtain a good look into her face." + +Elinor Glenalvan waited for no more. Clenching her small hands +vindictively, and with an evil look on her handsome face, she hurried +out into the corridor and made her way to Ruby's room. + +She turned the handle softly and looked in. The child lay on the bed +sleeping peacefully, and Golden remained at the window peering out +through the half-open blind at the dismal prospect, her red lips +quivering grievously, her sweet blue eyes dim with unshed tears. + +She started up nervously as her cousin came in abruptly and closed the +door. + +Elinor looked into her face and her heart grave a great, frightened +bound. She recognized the beautiful face instantly in spite of the +disfiguring cap and glasses. + +Controlling her rage by a violent effort, she observed with comparative +calmness: + +"I have lost a gold cuff-button, Mary, and thought perhaps I had +dropped it in here. Have you seen it?" + +Golden answered her with a shrinking negative, and Elinor continued: + +"I am almost certain that I dropped it in this room. Perhaps it has +rolled beneath the bed. Will you get down and look under it, Mary?" + +Golden complied without a word, and Elinor had the desired opportunity +of looking at the girl's face. + +In another moment, half beside herself with jealous rage, she caught +the cap and glasses from Golden's head and face, and cried out in low, +hoarse accents of intense passion: + +"Golden Glenalvan, you shameless creature, what are you doing here?" + +Golden sprang to her feet and looked at her heartless cousin in +momentary terrified silence. + +"What are you doing here?" Elinor repeated, in a voice of raging scorn. +"Did you wish to advertise your disgrace to Bertram Chesleigh's sister?" + +"Disgrace?" faltered the poor, heart-broken child. + +"Yes, your disgrace. It is plain enough to be seen!" cried Elinor, +pointing a scornful finger at her cousin, who had dropped into a chair +and hid her blushing face in her small hands. "Did you come here that +Mrs. Desmond might learn the full measure of her brother's sin?" + +Golden looked up with tear-wet, blue eyes into the blazing orbs of the +angry girl. + +"Elinor, I did not know she was his sister until after I came," she +murmured, pleadingly. + +"But when you found it out, why did you not go away?" Elinor demanded, +sharply. + +"I had nowhere to go--I was friendless and penniless. What could I do +but stay?" moaned Golden. + +"You should have drowned yourself. You are not fit to live, you wicked, +deceitful girl. So you were Mr. Chesleigh's mistress after all, +although you swore that you were pure and innocent!" blazed Elinor. + +"I am innocent! I was never Bertram Chesleigh's mistress!" Golden +cried. "I am his own true----" she stopped with a moan of anguish. "Go, +I must not tell--I must keep my promise! Oh, Elinor, you are my cousin. +Do not be so hard and cruel!" + +"How dare you claim me as your cousin?" cried Elinor, angrily, "Get up +from the floor and stop making a simpleton of yourself. You have got to +go away from here. Do you understand me?" + +Golden rose to her feet and looked steadily into Elinor's face with +flashing blue eyes. + +A spirit was roused within her that quite equaled her cousin's. + +"Elinor," she answered, "I understand you, but let me tell you here +and now, that I defy your commands. You have no authority over me, and +I am the mistress of my own actions. I shall remain in Mrs. Desmond's +service as long as I choose to do so. Your whole treatment of me has +been such as to merit no consideration at my hands, and it shall +receive none." + +If angry looks could have killed, little Golden would never have +survived her defiant speech, for Elinor's dark eyes glared upon her +with the deadly fury of an enraged tigress. + +"You will not go," she hissed. "Perhaps you think to stay here and +resume your old sinful relations with Bertram Chesleigh." + +Before Golden could reply to the cruel taunt, there was an unthought-of +interruption. + +Little Ruby, awakened by Elinor's angry tones, sprang upright in the +bed, and cried out in the utmost surprise and resentment. + +"What is the matter? Why are you scolding my nurse, Miss Glenalvan?" + +Elinor turned to Ruby with an instantaneous change of manner. + +"Why, you little darling," she cried, with honeyed sweetness, "what +an absurd idea! You must have dreamed it all. I was only asking Mary +about a gold cuff-button I had dropped on the floor. I am very sorry I +disturbed you in your refreshing sleep." + +She left the room before the child could challenge her plausible +excuse, and returned to Celine. + +"I was right, ma'am," the maid cried, triumphantly. "I see it in your +face." + +Elinor dropped into a chair, and the change in her face was quite +striking enough to have excited the woman's exclamation. + +She was as white as death, her black eyes gleamed with vindictive rage, +her thin lips were set in a cruel line. + +"Yes, you were right," she said, in a low, intense voice, "Celine, that +girl must go away from here." + +"Did you tell her so?" asked the woman. + +"Yes, and," helplessly, "she defied me. Oh, what am I to do?" + +"She would not go for you?" + +"No she is determined to stay. But," passionately, "she must go, and go +this very day. If she remains, and Mr. Chesleigh sees her, all is lost. +He will recognize her instantly." + +"I expect you would give a great deal to get the girl out of your way," +said the maid, artfully. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Elinor lifted her flashing eyes, and looked at the maid, struck by her +significantly-uttered words. + +"Yes," she answered, boldly, "I would give anything I possess to anyone +who would remove her from my path without my agency being known in the +matter." + +"You would not care by what means?" asked Celine. + +"No," declared the young lady. + +Celine turned the key in the lock, and coming nearer to Elinor, +whispered softly: + +"What will you give me, Miss Glenalvan, if I will have the girl driven +out under a disgraceful ban this very night?" + +"Can you do it?" inquired Elinor, eagerly. + +"Easily," was the confident reply, "if you will make it worth my while +to do so." + +Elinor revolved the words a moment in her mind. She saw that Celine's +services would have to be amply requited, otherwise the selfish +creature would not trouble herself to help her out of her difficulty. + +"You know I am not well off, Celine," she said, "but father has +promised to send me some money this month to buy my winter outfit. +To tell the truth I shall need every cent of it, for I've scarcely a +decent thing to wear this winter, but if you will get the girl away +before Mr. Chesleigh sees her, I will divide my allowance with you." + + +"How much money has your father agreed to send you?" inquired the +rapacious woman. + +"Three hundred dollars," replied Elinor, "and I will give you one-half +of it if you will do me this service." + +She felt as if she making a very liberal offer, and was surprised when +the Frenchwoman shook her head. + +"A hundred and fifty would not pay me for the trouble," she said, +conclusively. + +Elinor looked at her a little blankly. + +"But don't you understand. Celine, that I cannot spare any more?" she +said. "I must keep enough to buy a decent dress and hat and cloak for +the winter." + +"That matters not to me," replied Celine, with the utmost indifference. +"You must either give me the whole three hundred or I will not help +you." + +Elinor was angered and amazed at the woman's shameless rapacity. + +"I will not do it!" she exclaimed, "I dare say Golden will go away of +herself; anyhow, I do not intend to be fleeced so shamelessly." + +"As you please, miss," replied the maid coolly. She had the game in +her own hands, and was insolently aware of the fact. "I'm not anxious +to accommodate you, I dare say I could make more by selling my secret. +Don't you think Mr. Chesleigh would give me a thousand dollars for +telling him where to find his missing sweetheart?" + +Elinor grew frightened and acquiescent all in a moment at Celine's +baleful threat. + +"Oh, Celine, don't do that," she cried, "I was only joking when I said +I would not do it. You shall have every dollar of the money if you will +get Golden away to-night as you said you would." + +"I thought I should bring you to your senses," muttered Celine, then +she added aloud: + +"Thank you, miss. Are you sure that your father will send the money?" + +"He promised to do so without fail," replied Elinor. + +"And you will really hand it over to me as soon as received?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you may consider the little marplot gone. In less than an hour +you will see her leaving this hotel followed by Mrs. Desmond's curse," +replied Celine, with perfect confidence in her power of executing the +task she had undertaken. + +"What do you mean? How will you accomplish it?" inquired Elinor. + +"Never mind about that, I will do as I said, never fear. Are you done +with me now, Miss Glenalvan? If you are I will go to Mrs. Desmond. She +will need me to do her hair." + +"You may go, Celine," replied the young lady. "Now be sure," a little +nervously, "that you do not implicate _me_ in the affair." + +"Trust me for managing everything all right," was the airy reply. + +She went out and made her way to the dressing-room of her mistress. + +Mrs. Desmond was sitting before the dressing-table with a small +jewel-casket open in her lap. + +She was turning over some pretty rings with her white fingers. + +Celine went up to the table and began to get out the combs and brushes. + +"Are you ready for me to do your hair?" she inquired. + +"In a moment," replied Mrs. Desmond. "I am looking over my rings now. +I want to select one of the neatest and plainest for a present to +someone." + +Celine simpered and coughed. She fully expected to become the fortunate +recipient. + +"I must confess that I have been mistaken for once," continued +Mrs. Desmond, half to herself. "When the girl came here first, I +was prejudiced against her, partly because she was so pretty and +childish-looking, and again because we had had so many hateful nurses, +I thought she must necessarily be like them. But I was for once happily +mistaken. She has been so humble and unobtrusive, and endeared herself +so much to my little girl, that I must really reward her for her good +care of my darling during my absence." + +"Of whom are you speaking, ma'am?" inquired Celine, green with envy, as +the lady paused, having selected a plain, gold band, set with a single, +shining, white pearl. + +"Of Mary Smith," Mrs. Desmond replied, "and I am going to give her this +ring in token of my respect for her good character, and my gratitude +for the really motherly care which she has taken of my dear, frail, +little Ruby." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +At Mrs. Desmond's kindly-spoken words, Celine heaved a deep sigh and +remained silent. The lady glanced up at her in some surprise. + +"What is the matter, Celine?" she inquired. "Do you not think I am +right to acknowledge my appreciation of her valuable services?" + +The maid only sighed more deeply, casting down her eyes as if in great +distress. + +"I hope you are not jealous, Celine," continued her mistress. "You know +I have given you many such testimonials of my favor." + +"Yes, that you have, and I'm not jealous--not a bit, dear mistress," +cried Celine; "but, oh, dear, oh, dear! that you should have been so +cruelly deceived and betrayed." + +"Celine, what do you mean?" asked the lady, disturbed. + +"Oh, my dear lady, I hate to grieve you, but I can't bear to see you +imposed upon any longer by that shameless girl! Oh, my dear mistress, +where are your eyes that you can't see her disgrace? Oh, how I wish I +had told all I knew at first!" cried Celine, wringing her hands, while +tears fell from her eyes. + +Mrs. Desmond sprang up and caught her by the arm excitedly. + +"Speak! What is it that you know?" she cried, passionately. "Have I +been deceived in Mary Smith?" + +"Yes, my dear lady--most cruelly deceived!" exclaimed Celine. + +"But she has certainly been kind to the child. Else Ruby would have +complained," said Mrs. Desmond in perplexity. + +"Oh, yes, she was kind to the child, I admit, but it was all for a +blind. And all the--all the while--oh, Mrs. Desmond, if you could only +understand without my telling it," cried Celine, breaking off abruptly, +with an appearance of grief and reluctance. + +The passionate, jealous heart of the listener caught the artful bait +instantly. + +She gasped for breath, her brilliant face whitened to a marble pallor, +and she caught at the back of a chair to steady herself. + +If Celine had not been utterly selfish and pitiless she must have +retracted her cruel lie in the face of that utter despair on the +beautiful face of her mistress. But the greed of gold overpowered every +other consideration in her base mind. + +"Celine," the startled woman broke out, "do you mean to say that--my +husband----" she paused, and her blazing eyes searched the woman's face. + +"Your husband loves her--alas, yes, my poor, deceived mistress," cried +the maid. "The deceitful creature has won his heart from you." + +There was a moment's silence while Mrs. Desmond groped blindly in her +mind for some tangible proof on which to pin her faith in her beloved +husband. + +"Celine, you must be mistaken," she exclaimed. "You know we have been +away from home almost the whole time since the girl came to us. She has +had no chance with my husband." + +"Alas, Mrs. Desmond, you force me to tell you," sighed Celine. "Know, +then, that it all began before you went south to Mr. Chesleigh. The +very day after she came I caught Mr. Desmond kissing Mary Smith, with +his arms around her waist." + +"Celine, will you swear to this?" gasped the unhappy wife. + +"I will take my Bible oath to its truth," was the emphatic reply. + +"Then God help me," moaned the stricken woman. "Celine, why did you not +tell me all this before?" + +"I was afraid of master's anger," she replied. "He threatened me and I +promised not to tell. Oh, my dear lady, will you promise to shield me +from his wrath? I could not see you so imposed on any longer." + +"So the affair has been going on from bad to worse, Celine?" inquired +her mistress, faintly. + +"Yes, my dear mistress. You remember how anxious he was to return +to New York and take little Miss Ruby to the seashore. It was +all an excuse to get back to the nurse. And since we came back +yesterday--well, I've told enough already. Are you angry with me, my +dear, injured lady?" inquired Celine breaking off, artfully, just +where she really had nothing more to tell, unless she had fabricated a +wholesale lie. + +Mrs. Desmond shook her head and remained silent. The maid was +disappointed. She had expected a wild outpouring of anger from the +jealous wife, but instead she preserved an ominous quiet. + +Her head drooped on her bosom, her face was colorless as death, her +wild, burning, dark eyes were the only signs of life in her. + +Celine was a little startled at the effect of her wickedness. She +brought some _eau de cologne_, and tried to bathe the face of her +mistress but was quickly motioned away. + +"Go, Celine, send that girl here to me," she said, speaking in a dry, +hard, unnatural voice. + +The maid went out, and Mrs. Desmond waited but a moment before the door +unclasped and little Golden entered. She paused in the middle of the +room, and said in her gentle voice: + +"You sent for me, Mrs. Desmond?" + +Mrs. Desmond lifted her eyes and looked at the beautiful girl whom she +believed to be the wicked destroyer of her happiness. Golden shrank +before the withering scorn of that look. + +"Oh, madam, is anything the matter?" she faltered. + +Mrs. Desmond rose and towered above her in all the dignity of her +insulted wifehood. + +"Oh, no," she said, in a low, deep voice of concentrated passion, +"there is very little the matter--only this trifle. You have +shamelessly robbed me of my husband." + +"Madam!" cried Golden, in alarm and consternation. + +"You need not pretend innocence--you cannot deceive me," cried the +outraged wife. "You have won his heart, you have stolen him from me, +and you have forever ruined my life." + +"Oh, madam, who has told you this dreadful tale? It is not true. +I would sooner die than wrong you," cried Golden, with pitiful +earnestness. + +"Hush, do not lie to me," exclaimed Mrs. Desmond, lifting and pointing +a scornful finger at the shrinking form. "Your looks declare your +shame. Go, leave the house this moment wretched creature, before in my +madness I lay violent hands on you!" + +But Golden did not go. She knelt down before her angry accuser, and +looked up at her pleadingly. + +"Oh, Mrs. Desmond, you are mistaken! You wrong me bitterly by such a +suspicion!" she cried, with the tears streaming down her fair cheeks. + +"Wrong you!" Mrs. Desmond cried, "are you not then----" she bent and +fairly hissed the remaining words into the girl's ear. Golden threw up +her hands with a cry of dismay. + +"Oh, my God, this is too horrible!" she wailed, "how can I bear it?" + +"Did I not speak the truth?" Mrs. Desmond demanded. + +"It is true, madam, I cannot deny it," replied the girl, crimson with +burning blushes, "but I--oh, I call Heaven to witness my truth, Mrs. +Desmond, I am nothing to your husband, I was--was--married before I +came to you." + +"Then where is your husband?" + +"I cannot tell," faltered the white lips. + +"That is strange," said Mrs. Desmond, scornfully. "Has he left you?" + +"Yes, madam," with a pitiful droop of the fair head. + +"Why did he do so?" inquired the lady + +"I cannot tell you," Golden murmured, sorrowfully. + +Ah, if Mrs. Desmond had only known the truth, that it was her brother's +wife kneeling there ashamed and dejected before her. But she did not +dream it, and her anger rose at the girl's unsatisfactory replies to +her questions. + +"I will not ask you any more questions," she said, "I do not wish to +hear more of your weak falsehoods. Get up from there, and go. Leave the +house now and at once, before I publish your conduct to everyone. You +need not go to Mrs. Markham for sympathy. I shall go to her at once and +tell her what you are." + +Golden stood still, staring at her blankly a moment. She was dazed and +frightened at the shameful suspicion that had fallen upon her, and she +did not know how to convince Mrs. Desmond of her innocence. + +"Oh, madam, if I could only induce you to believe that I am not the +vile creature you think me," she cried in anguish. + +"Hush; leave the room!" Mrs. Desmond answered stormily. "Go, and take +with you the bitterest curse of an injured woman. May the good God +speedily avenge my cruel wrongs!" + +She crossed to the door, threw it open, and pointed silently to it. + +Golden obeyed the mute sentence of her lifted finger and glided out, +a forlorn, little figure, feeling almost annihilated by the vivid +lightning of Mrs. Desmond's angry eyes. + +The door slammed heavily behind her, and she walked along through the +brightly lighted hotel corridor, for the twilight had fallen long ago. + +The rain was falling heavily, and Golden shrank and trembled at the +thought of encountering the black, inclement night. The thought came to +her--why should she go? + +She was ill, friendless, almost penniless. It was her husband's right +to protect her. + +And here she was passing his very door. Should she not appeal to him +for comfort in this terrible hour? + +Her trembling limbs refused to carry her past his door. She turned the +handle with a weak and trembling hand and stepped over the threshold. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +When Golden on the impulse of the moment had entered the room that she +knew was Bertram Chesleigh's, she stood frightened and trembling inside +the closed door, afraid to look up at first at the man who had treated +her so cruelly. + +Gathering courage at the shuddering remembrance of the terrors that +awaited her in the darkness of the gloomy night outside, she looked up +at last, determined to make at least one appeal to her husband. + +The gas had been lighted and it threw a flood of brightness over every +object in the room. + +On a sofa at the further end Bertram Chesleigh lay sleeping in a +careless position, as if he had just thrown himself down, wearied and +overcome with fatigue. + +The jet-black hair was tossed carelessly back from his high, white +brow, and the thick, dark lashes lay heavily upon his cheeks, as if his +slumber was deep and dreamless. + +A small table was drawn closely to his side, littered with writing +materials, and a pen with the ink scarcely dried upon it, lay beside a +letter just stamped and sealed, and addressed to: + + RICHARD LEITH. + No. ---- Park Avenue, New York. + +As Golden glided across the room, and paused, with her small hand +resting upon the table, the superscription of the letter caught her +eyes by the merest chance. She started, caught it up in her hand and +scanned it eagerly. + +"Richard Leith," she read, and her voice trembled with eagerness. "How +strange! Why is he writing to Richard Leith?" + +She glanced at the sleeper, but not the quiver of an eyelash betrayed +disturbance at her presence. + +She drew a slip of paper toward her, and neatly copied the address from +the letter, placing it securely in her little purse. + +Then she paused, turning another wistful glance from the letter which +she still held in her hand, to the pale, handsome face of the husband +who had discarded her because she had been born to a heritage of shame. + +She wondered again if Bertram Chesleigh knew Richard Leith, and why he +had written to him, but no thought of the truth came into her mind, or +how gladly she would have flown to the quiet sleeper and folded him in +her loving arms, and sobbed out her gladness on his broad breast. + +Instead she stood gazing at him a few moments in troubled silence, the +tear-drops hanging like pearls on her thick, golden lashes, her breast +heaving with suppressed sighs. + +Then she turned and went out of the room, her first impulse to awaken +him having been diverted into another course by her opportune discovery +of the address of the man whom she believed to be her father. + +"Bertram would only despise and defy me if I appealed to him, perhaps," +she murmured, "I will seek my misguided mother instead." + +She gave him one sad, reproachful glance and hurried out of the room. + +As she closed the door it inadvertently slammed and awakened the +sleeper. He started up, confusedly passing his hand across his brow, +and looking up for the person whom he supposed had entered the room. + +"I distinctly heard the door slam," he said to himself. "Someone either +entered or left the room." + +But as no one appeared, he concluded that someone had entered, and +finding him asleep, had gone out again. + +He crossed to the door and looked out into the lighted corridor. + +No one was visible, and he was about to close the door again, when his +sister Edith came suddenly in sight. + +He waited until she came up to him, her dark silk dress rustling as she +moved hurriedly along. + +"Come in, Edith," he said. "I am sorry I was asleep when you came in +just now. Why did you not awaken me? I was only dozing. The closing of +the door awakened me instantly." + +She looked up at him in surprise, and then he saw that her brilliant +face was quite pale, and her dark eyes had a strange, unnatural glare +in them. + +"I have not been in your room since morning," she replied. "What made +you think so, Bert?" + +"Someone must have come in and gone out again, for I was awakened by +the closing of the door, and I thought at first it must have been you. +Doubtless it was only a servant. It does not matter. But, Edith, has +anything happened? You look pale and strange." + +She threw herself down into a chair, and her unnatural calm gave way to +a flood of tears. + +Mr. Chesleigh was shocked and distressed. He bent over her and +entreated her to tell him the cause of her grief. + +Checking her tears by a great effort of will, Mrs. Desmond told him all +that had passed. + +"I will never live with Mr. Desmond again," she said, passionately, +when she had finished her story. "Ever since we married he has outraged +my love and my pride by his glaring flirtations, but this last affair +is too grievous and shameful to be tamely endured. I hate him for his +falsehood and infidelity, and I will never live with him again!" + +"Edith, think of the scandal, the notoriety, if you leave your +husband," he remonstrated. + +"I do not care," she replied, her dark eyes blazing with wrath and +defiance; "let them say what they will; I will not tamely endure such a +cruel insult! You must make some arrangement for me, Bertie, for I will +never, never live with Mr. Desmond again!" + +And Bertram Chesleigh, with his heart on fire at his beloved sister's +wrongs and his brain puzzled over the best way to right them, little +dreamed that his own weakness and wrong-doing had been the sole cause +of her sorrow. His fiery indignation was spent upon his brother-in-law +when it should have been bestowed upon himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +"I will not go in to bid little Ruby farewell," Golden said to herself +sadly, as she left the room of Bertram Chesleigh. "The little one loves +me and I could not bear her grief at parting with me. I will slip into +the next room without her knowledge, get my hat and jacket, and go away +quietly. When I am gone, perhaps Mrs. Desmond may become reconciled to +her husband." + +She did not dream that the proud woman's anger and resentment against +her husband would carry her to the length of a separation with him. + +She donned her hat and jacket, and tied her few articles of clothing +into a compact bundle. Taking them in her hand, she stole noiselessly +out, and made her way to the lower portico of the great hotel. + +She paused there, a little dismayed, and looked out at the black and +starless night with the chill September drizzle falling ceaselessly. +She would be obliged to walk two miles through the storm to take the +midnight train for New York. + +It would have been perfectly easy to have hired a conveyance but she +had only nine dollars left in her purse after discharging her debt to +Mrs. Markham, and not knowing how much her fare to the city might be, +she was afraid to waste a penny in hack hire. + +She decided that she must walk, so, unfurling her small sun-umbrella +as some slight protection against the beating rain, she plunged with a +shiver into the wet and darkness of the untoward night. + +She groped along wearily in the dreary road, scarcely conscious of her +physical discomfort and peril in the agonizing pain and humiliation +that ached at her heart. She had been driven forth under the ban of +cruel shame and disgrace. + +Bertram Chesleigh would hear the story of Ruby's wicked, deceitful +nurse, and would hate her memory, little thinking that it was his own +wretched wife, and that she had borne Mrs. Desmond's angry charge +without defending herself, and all for his sake, because he was too +proud to acknowledge her claim on him. + +The weary walk was accomplished at last, and Golden waited several +hours in her wet and draggled garments in the fireless room at the +station for the train that was to take her to New York. + +It came at last, and in a few more miserable hours she was safe in the +city. She found, after paying her fare, that she had enough left to pay +for a bed and breakfast at a hotel, and gladly availed herself of the +privilege. + +Wretched and impatient as she felt, her overstrained mind yielded to +the physical weakness that was stealing over her, and she slept soundly +for several hours. Rising, refreshed and strengthened, she made a +substantial breakfast and sallied for No. ---- Park Avenue. She hardly +knew what she would do when she arrived there, but the conviction was +strong upon her that she must go. + +She had no difficulty in finding the number. The house was large and +elegant, with a flight of brown stone steps in front. Golden climbed +them a little timidly, and rang the bell. + +The servant in waiting stared at her cheap attire a little +superciliously as he opened the door, but when she inquired if Mrs. +Leith were at home his aspect changed. + +"Oh, you are come in answer to the advertisement for a maid," he said. +"Yes, my mistress is at home, and she will see you at once. Come this +way." + +Golden followed him in silence to the lady's dressing-room. The thought +came to her that this would be an admirable pretext for making the +acquaintance of the Leiths, so she did not deny that she was seeking a +situation. + +A beautiful, golden-haired lady opened the door at her timid knock. The +girl's heart gave a great, muffled throb. + +"My mother," she thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +"Mrs. Leith, this is a young woman who has answered the advertisement +for a maid," said the man, respectfully, as he turned away. + +The beautiful lady nodded Golden to a seat, and looked at her with +careless condescension. + +"What is your name?" she inquired. + +"Mary Smith," answered the girl in a low, fluttering voice. + +"Have you any recommendations?" + +"Not as a maid, as the occupation is new to me. I have been a nurse +heretofore, but if you will try me I will do my best to please you," +said Golden, anxiously. + +"I am very hard to please," said Mrs. Leith. + +She did not tell Golden that she was so very hard to please that no one +could suit her, leaving her to find that out for herself, as she would +be sure to do if she remained. + +There was a moment's silence, and Golden gravely regarded Mrs. Leith. +She was _petite_ and graceful in form, with large, blue eyes, waving +masses of golden hair, and beautifully-moulded features. She was barely +thirty years old in appearance, and was richly and becomingly attired. + +Yet Golden shivered and trembled as she regarded the fair, smiling +beauty. How could she look so bright and careless with the brand of +deadly sin upon her? There was neither sorrow nor repentance on the +smiling, debonair face. + +"And this is my mother," Golden thought to herself, with a strange +heaviness at her heart. "She seems utterly indifferent at her +wickedness. Ah, she little dreams that the poor babe that she deserted +so heartlessly is sitting before her now." + +Mrs. Leith's light, careless voice jarred suddenly on her mournful mood. + +"Well, I will try you, Mary, for I need a maid. My last one was so +incapable I had to discharge her. You may do my hair for me now. I am +going to drive in the park with Mr. Leith, if his troublesome clients +do not detain him. My husband is a lawyer, Mary, and his time is almost +wholly engrossed by his business." + +"Her husband," Golden repeated to herself, as she wound the shining +tresses into braids. "So they keep up that farce before the world. +Poor mother! how she must love my father to remain with him on such +humiliating terms. Is she really happy, or does she only wear a mask?" + +But there was no apparent sorrow or remorse on the complacent face of +the lady as she gave her orders and directions to the new maid. + +The uppermost thought in her mind was how to make the most of her +beauty. + +Golden had to arrange her hair twice before she was suited, and she +tried several dresses in turn before she decided on one. She was +inordinately vain and fond of finery, and Golden thought pitifully to +herself: + +"Her beauty is the only hold she has on my father, and she is compelled +to make its preservation the sole aim of her life." + +She wondered a little that no yearning throb had stirred her heart +at the sight of her beautiful mother, but she told herself that it +was simply because her mother's sin had wholly alienated the natural +affection of her purer-hearted daughter. + +She pitied her with a great, yearning pity, but no impulse prompted her +to kiss the dewy, crimson lips, she had no temptation to pillow her +head on the fair bosom that had denied its shelter and sustenance to +her helpless infancy. + +Mrs. Leith did not look as if she would have made a tender mother. + +"Have you any children, madam?" she asked, suddenly, and Mrs. Leith +answered: + +"No," rather shortly, but added a minute later: "And I am glad of it, +for I do not love children. But Mr. Leith does, and is rather sorry +that we have none." + +"He is justly punished for his sin," thought his unknown daughter, +while she secretly wondered why he had never claimed the child his wife +had heartlessly deserted to return to him. + +"Perhaps she told him I was dead," thought Golden, looking at the +beautiful woman with a strange thrill of repulsion. "Perhaps he would +have loved me and cared for me, had he known I lived." + +A thrill of pity, half mixed with tenderness, stirred her heart for the +father who had been cheated of the child he would have loved. + +She became conscious of a burning desire to meet her father--the man +who had wronged her mother, and who had been wronged in turn, in that +he had never beheld the face of his child. + +There was a manly step at the door, and it opened, admitting a tall, +handsome man in the prime of life. + +Golden's heart gave a quick, wild throb, then sank heavily in her +breast. + +She retreated hastily to the shade of a window-curtain, where she could +observe the new-comer, herself unobserved. + +Richard Leith was tall, dark, and very handsome, though there +were iron-gray threads in his dark, waving hair, and in the long, +magnificent beard that rippled down upon his breast. + +He looked like a man who had known trouble and sorrow. His face was +both sad and stern, and his dark eyes were cold and gloomy. + +Mrs. Leith looked up at him carelessly, and his grave face did not +brighten at the sight of her beauty, enhanced as it was by the rich, +blue silk, and becoming white lace bonnet with its garland of roses. + +"Are you ready for your drive, Mrs. Leith?" he inquired, with +punctilious politeness. + +"Yes, I am just ready," she replied, carelessly. "You see I have a +new maid; she is rather awkward, but I shall keep her until I can do +better." + +Mr. Leith gave an indifferent nod toward the gray gown and white cap +that was dimly visible at the furthest corner of the room, then he went +out with his wife, and Golden sank down upon the carpet and wept some +bitter, bitter tears, that seemed to lift a little bit of the load of +grief from her oppressed bosom. + +After all, she had found her father and mother, and it was possible +that she might bring them to see the wickedness of their course, and to +seek reformation. + +She determined not to reveal her identity just yet. + +She would stay with them a little and learn more of them before she +made her strong appeal to them in behalf of truth. + +She would not reproach them just yet for the blight they had cast on +her innocent life. She would patiently bide her time. + +It was a strange position to be placed in. + +Under the roof of her own parents, unknown and unacknowledged, with her +whole life laid bare and desolate through their sin. + +A hot and passionate resentment against them surged up into Golden's +wounded heart. + +What right had her mother to be so fair and happy when she had sinned +so grievously? + +Perhaps she would be very angry when she knew that the child she had so +pitilessly deserted had hunted her down to confront her with her sin. + +"I will wait a little. I will not speak yet," she said. "I shall know +them better after awhile, and I shall know how to approach them better." + +So the days waned and faded. + +Golden began to become very well acquainted with the beautiful woman +whom she believed to be her mother. She was vain, frivolous, heartless. + +The pure-hearted girl recoiled instinctively from her. But she could +not understand Mr. Leith so well. + +He was a mystery to her. Some settled shadow seemed to brood heavily +over him always. + +He was engrossed with his studies and business. Golden wondered if it +was remorse that preyed so heavily on him. She had never seen a smile +on the stern, finely-cut lips. + +There was one thing that struck her strangely, Richard Leith and his +so-called wife did not appear very fond of each other. The gentleman +was studiously courteous, polite and kind, but Golden never saw on +his expressive face that light of adoring tenderness she had loved to +see on Bertram Chesleigh's whenever he looked at her. Mrs. Leith was +totally absorbed in her dresses, her novels, and her daily drives, +during which she excited much admiration by her beauty and her +exquisite toilets. But love and passion--these seemed to be worn-out +themes between the strangely-mated pair. They addressed each other +formally as Mr. and Mrs. Leith, but Golden had noticed that the lady's +clothing was marked "G. L." She knew, of course, that the letter +G. stood for Golden, but when she asked her about it with apparent +carelessness one day, the lady answered that it was for Gertrude. + +"She has discarded even her name," her daughter mused bitterly. +"Perhaps she has even forgotten her old home and her deserted father +and her little child." + +And in spite of herself Golden felt that she heartily despised the +woman whom she should have loved in spite of all her faults because +she was her mother. But some strange and subtle fascination drew her +nearer and nearer to Richard Leith. + +Her anger and scorn which she had tried to foster at first began to +dissolve in spite of herself into a yearning and sorrowful tenderness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +Several weeks went by, and Golden wondered very much if the Desmonds +had returned to the city, and if the lady still held her unjust +suspicions and jealousy against her. + +She often wondered as she looked at Richard Leith's stern, set face, +why Bertram Chesleigh had written to him, and for what object. + +One day she heard Mrs. Leith remark to her husband that she had seen +Mr. Desmond driving in the park alone that morning. + +"He looked pale and dejected--quite unlike himself," she added, "I +wonder if his handsome wife and little daughter are at the seaside yet." + +"Did you not know," said Mr. Leith, "Mrs. Desmond and Ruby have gone to +Europe with Chesleigh." + +"Gone without her husband," cried the lady. "How strange! Do you not +think so?" + +"Not strange when you hear the circumstances," Mr. Leith replied, +gravely. "The truth is Mrs. Desmond became violently jealous of a +pretty servant girl, and declared she would leave him--even threatened +a divorce. To save publicity her brother persuaded her to take a trip +with him to Europe, hoping that time might soften her anger. You +understand that these are not public facts, Mrs. Leith. They came to me +personally as the Desmonds' lawyer." + +"I shall not repeat them," she replied, taking the gentle hint, +good-humoredly. "Do you think she will ever be reconciled, Mr. Leith?" + +"I scarcely think so. Mrs. Desmond is perfectly implacable at present. +Mr. Desmond employed me as a mediator between them, but I could +accomplish nothing. He swears that she was unjustly jealous, and that +there was nothing at all between him and the girl. But I could not +induce Mr. Chesleigh nor his sister to believe the assertion." + +"What became of the girl?" inquired Mrs. Leith. + +"Mrs. Desmond drove the wretched creature away. It is not known what +became of her," replied the lawyer; "altogether it is a very sad +affair. Chesleigh has acted on my advice in taking his sister out of +the country for awhile. I pity Bertram Chesleigh. He has had a bad +entanglement himself lately which he has been compelled to place in my +hands. But, poor boy, I fear I can do nothing for him." + +"He is trying to get a divorce from me," thought Golden, with a dizzy +horror in her mind, and the bitter agony of the thought drove the color +from her face, and the life from her heart. With an exceeding bitter +cry she threw up her arms in the air, staggered blindly forward and +fell heavily upon the floor. + +"What is that?" cried Mr. Leith, looking round with a great start. + +"Why, it's Mary Smith! I had forgotten that she was in the room," cried +Mrs. Leith. "Oh, look, she is dead!" + +She began to wring her hands excitedly, but Mr. Leith said quietly: + +"Do not alarm yourself. She has only fainted I suppose. Bring some +water and we will soon revive her." + +She ran into the dressing-room, and Mr. Leith bent down over the +prostrate form and lifted the drooping head compassionately. + +The ugly, concealing cap and glasses had fallen off, and as his gaze +rested fully on the lovely, marble-white face, a cry of surprise and +anguish broke from his lips. + +"My God, how terribly like!" he muttered. Then, as Mrs. Leith returned +with water and _eau de cologne_, he applied them both, without the +slightest success, for Golden still lay cold, white and rigid, like one +dead, upon his arm. + +"Is she dead?" Mrs. Leith whispered, fearfully. + +"I cannot tell. Ring for the housekeeper. Perhaps she may know better +how to apply the remedies," he replied, still holding the light form +in his arms, and gazing with a dazed expression on the beautiful, +unconscious face. + +The housekeeper came, and declared, in a fright at first, that the girl +was dead. Then she turned Mr. Leith out of the room, loosened Golden's +clothing, and rubbed her vigorously. + +In about ten minutes the quiet eyelids fluttered faintly, and a gasping +sigh parted the white lips. + +The housekeeper beckoned Mrs. Leith to her side. + +"She lives," she whispered, softly, "but she had better have died." + +"I do not understand you," Mrs. Leith replied. + +"I have made a discovery," continued the old housekeeper. "The girl has +deceived you, madam. She is a bad lot, for all her sweet, childish, +innocent face." + +"Deceived me--how?" Mrs. Leith demanded. + +"She is not an innocent maiden, as she appeared. Oh, Mrs. Leith, can +you not see for yourself? The wretched creature is likely to become a +mother in a few short months." + +"You are jesting. She is barely more than a child," Mrs. Leith broke +out, incredulously. + +"It's the Lord's truth, madam. Faugh! the wicked little piece! A pity I +hadn't let her die!" sniffed the virtuous housekeeper, with a scornful +glance at the reviving girl. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Mrs. Leith drew back her trailing silken skirts from contact with poor +Golden's recumbent form as if there were contamination in her very +touch. + +"I have been terribly deceived," she said, "I had begun to like the +girl very much. She suited me more than any maid I have had for a long +while, and I thought her quite pure and respectable. Do the best you +can for her, Mrs. Brown, for I shall send her away as soon as she is +able to walk." + +Heedless of Golden's large, blue eyes that unclosed and fixed +themselves reproachfully upon her, she swept from the room and sought +Mr. Leith, to whom she confided the housekeeper's discovery. + +The grave-faced lawyer looked shocked and distressed, unaccountably so, +the lady thought. + +"I can scarcely credit it," he said. "She has such an innocent and +child-like face." + +"Such faces are sometimes deceiving," remarked the lady. "This instance +proves the fact." + +"What do you intend to do with the poor child!" Mr. Leith asked, with +an unconscious sigh. + +"I shall send her away, of course," Mrs. Leith replied, decidedly. + +"Oh, _cruel, unnatural mother_!" said a faint, reproachful voice, +behind her. + +She turned with a start and saw that Golden had followed her. + +The poor child stood trembling in the doorway, her dress in disorder, +her beautiful hair broken loose from its fastenings, and streaming over +her shoulders, her great, blue eyes blazing like stars in her lovely, +pallid face, her sweet lips curled in scorn as she pointed her finger +at Mrs. Leith, and exclaimed: + +"Oh, cruel, unnatural mother! Is your life so pure that you can afford +to sit in judgment on me?" + +"Is the girl mad?" Mrs. Leith exclaimed, recoiling from her. + +"No, I am not mad, although my wrongs have been bitter enough to +madden any human being," Golden retorted, passionately. "I am not mad, +although your terrible sin has ruined my life and broken my heart." + +"_My_ sin, _mine_!" retorted Mrs. Leith, in apparent bewilderment. +"What do you mean, girl? I am nothing to you!" + +"Nothing to me, oh, my God," moaned Golden, wringing her white hands. +"Then you deny that you are my mother?" + +"_Your_ mother, girl, when I have never had a child in my life. Mr. +Leith, do you not see that the wretched creature is raving mad?" cried +the lady, retreating to his side apprehensively. + +Golden turned her flashing blue eyes on the white, startled face of the +man. + +"She denies that she is my mother," she said. "Perhaps you will deny +that you are my father." + +She saw a quiver pass over the man's pale face. + +"I do not understand your words," he replied, in a voice shaken with +emotion. "Explain yourself." + +"I am the child Golden Glenalvan deserted at Glenalvan Hall in its +helpless infancy, that she might return to New York and lead a life of +shame with you," she cried out bitterly. + +Richard Leith's dark eyes turned on her face with a lurid gleam in +their shadowed depths. + +"Hold!" he cried. "Whoever you are, you shall not malign the memory of +poor, little Golden. She was pure as the snow." + +"Pure!" the girl repeated, blankly. "She was never your wife. They told +me she lived with you in open shame." + +A startling change came over the face of Richard Leith. There was a +glare, like that of madness, in his eyes. + +He fell backward into a chair, and the labored breath came from between +his parted lips in strong, shuddering sighs. + +Mrs. Leith flew to his side, and bent anxiously over him. + +"Mr. Leith, what is it? What does all this mean? I am mystified," she +cried. + +His heavy, dark eyes full of sorrow and despair, lifted gloomily to her +wondering face. + +"It means," he replied, "that I have had a secret in my life, and that +the time is come for you to know it. If this girl speaks truly she is +indeed my daughter, though not yours." + +"Not hers!" echoed Golden, in bewilderment, as she looked at the +beautiful woman whom she had for long weeks believed to be her mother. + +"Not hers," he replied, "for long before I met and married this lady, +little Golden Glenalvan was dead." + +A startled cry came from Golden's lips. + +"Dead," she shuddered; "no, no; you are deceiving me." + +"Not so, as God is my judge," he replied. "But sit down, child, and +tell me all your story. Then we may be able to understand each other." + +Golden glanced half-fearfully at Mrs. Leith, who stood leaning against +her husband's chair, pale and silent, and anxious-looking. The lady +quietly and gravely motioned her to a seat. + +She thankfully obeyed the gesture, for she felt ill and weary, and the +sudden shock of learning that her mother was dead, had been a terrible +one to her, and had almost stricken her senseless again. + +In low, pathetic tones, and with many tears, Golden told Richard Leith +all that she knew of her mother, and as much as she could of her own +lonely life, without revealing the tragic story of her unfortunate love. + +He listened in silence, although she could see that he was terribly +agitated. + +His white brow was beaded with great drops of sweat, his eyes stared +wildly, he bit his lips till the blood started to keep back the groans +of pain. + +When she had finished he went over to her, knelt at her feet, and +gently kissed her cold, little hand. + +"You are my daughter," he said, "and you are the living image of your +mother. But until this moment, little Golden, I believed you dead. I +wrote to John Glenalvan when my wife ran away from me, and asked him +if she had returned to her father. He wrote back that she had done so, +that she had given birth to a little daughter, and that the mother and +child had both died. Then he added his curse, and threatened, if I ever +came near Glenalvan Hall, to shoot me down like a dog." + +His voice broke huskily a moment. Golden looked at him eagerly. + +"You said your wife," she faltered. "Was my mother, then, legally +married to you? Am I not a----" her voice broke huskily over the word, +"a nameless child?" + +"Your mother was my legal wife, little one. You are my own daughter, +born in lawful wedlock. God only knows what crafty and wicked enemy +of mine wrote that lying letter to my poor, young wife, telling her +that I had deceived her by a mock marriage. She was too credulous, and +believed the lie too easily. It was not true. I can give you every +proof that your mother was my lawful wife, little Golden." + +She fell on her knees, and with upraised hands and streaming eyes, +thanked God for those precious words. + +Her mother had been pure and noble. There was no shadow of stain on her +daughter's birth. + +Then, with a sudden, startling thought she confronted him, her white +hands clasped in agony, her voice ringing wild and shrill: + +"John Glenalvan told you that my mother died. He lied! She disappeared +very suddenly the night after I was born, and that villain declared +that she had deserted me and returned to her sinful life with you. She +did not die, and she did not return to you. Oh, my God, where is she +now?" + +She saw that terrible question reflected on her father's face. + +It whitened to the awful hue of death, and he reeled backward like a +smitten man. + +A faint cry came from Mrs. Leith, who had dropped heavily into a chair. + +"Oh, Heaven, if she is yet living, what, then, am I?" + +Richard Leith went to her side, and looked down at her white, scared +face, pitifully. + +"Gertrude," he said to her gently, "we have both been the victims of a +terrible wrong. When I married you several years after the loss of my +first wife, won by your beauty, which reminded me of my poor, little +Golden's, I honestly believed that she was dead. There is some terrible +mystery here, and John Glenalvan is at the bottom of it. But I will +wring the truth from his false lips, and if my lost little Golden has +come to harm at his hands, his life shall pay the penalty of his sin!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +"Oh, father," cried little Golden. "Why did you lure my poor mother +from her home. She was so young, so trusting. Why did you persuade her +to desert her parents?" + +The man's pale, handsome features quivered all over with vain remorse +and penitence. + +"You do well to reproach me, little Golden," he sighed. "There is no +excuse for my sin. But I will tell you how I came to act so imprudently. + +"I was a struggling young lawyer, poor and proud, when I first met +your beautiful mother during a business trip to the south. Her family, +though reduced to comparative poverty by the late war, were proud +and aristocratic people, and I felt quite sure that they would have +refused me the hand of their petted darling. + +"I had heard so much of the pride of the southerners that I was afraid +to ask the Glenalvans for their beautiful child. So I acted the part of +a coward and stole her from them. The dear girl loved me well, and went +with me willingly when I promised to take her back to them after we +were married. + +"I took her to New York, and made her my true and lawful wife, but so +afraid was I of those haughty Glenalvans that I refused to allow her to +write my name and address to her friends. I was waiting till I should +have acquired a fame and fortune that would make me acceptable in their +eyes. Oh, God, how terribly my sin has found me out after all these +years." + +He paused and wiped away the cold dew that beaded his high, white brow. +After a moment he went on, sadly: + +"I was fast gaining prominence and a competence in my profession, when +some base enemy of mine--as a lawyer I had some of the blackest-hearted +enemies that a man ever had--wrote my darling a letter, defaming me +in scandalous terms, and averring that I had deceived her by a mock +marriage. + +"Poor child, she was very simple and credulous. She fell an easy victim +to the liar's tale. She fled from me, leaving that cruel letter behind +her, the only thing there was to hint at the reason of her hurried +flight." + +"Oh, if only you had followed her then," moaned beautiful Golden. + +"If I only had!" he echoed. "My first impulse was to do so; but I +had on hand a very important case, which I had staked everything on +winning. If I managed it well my success was assured as one of the +leading lawyers of the day. My speech for the defense was anticipated +anxiously by many. So I suffered my ambition to overrule my first +instinctive resolve to follow my wife, and instead I wrote to her +brother. He sent me that lying letter that almost broke my heart." + +He broke down and sobbed like a woman, or rather, unlike a woman, for +those great, convulsive moans of agony that issued from his breast +seemed as if they would rend his heart in twain. + +Golden stole to his side and laid her small hand kindly on his gray +head, that was bowed in sorrow and remorse. + +"I am sorry for you, my father," she said. "You have been weak and +imprudent, but not sinful, as I thought. But, oh, my poor mother! My +heart is torn over her wretched fate. She must have perished miserably, +or we should have heard from her ere now. Oh, father, what shall we do?" + +They looked at each other with dim, miserable eyes, this strangely +reunited father and daughter, the awful mystery of the wife and +mother's fate chilled their hearts. + +He took her hand and drew her gently nearer to him. + +"My child, I shall go to Glenalvan Hall and confront John Glenalvan +with his sin. I believe the whole key to the mystery lies in that +villain's hands." + +"I am almost sure of it," she replied. "He hated my mother, and he +hated me. I will go with you. What joy it will be to stand up proudly +before him and tell him that my birth was honest and honorable, and +that my father is a good and true man, who is glad to see me, for you +_are_ glad, aren't you?" she asked him, pleadingly. + +"Yes, dear, I am very glad. I have always longed to have a child of +my own to love. It seemed as if my heart was always yearning for the +daughter I believed to be dead. But Golden," he looked at her anxiously +and pleadingly as he clasped her little hand, "you have a story of your +own to tell me before we go on the quest for your mother. The great +mystery of love has come to you already in your tender youth. Tell me, +my daughter, are you a wife?" + +The crimson color flushed into her cheeks, then receded, leaving her +deathly pale again. + +Tears rose into the great, blue eyes, and trembled on the long-fringed +lashes. + +Her lips parted and closed again without a sound. + +"Tell me, Golden," he urged, anxiously; "are you a wife, or has some +artful villain deceived you? If so----" he clenched his hand, and the +lightnings of passion flashed from his somber, dark eyes. + +A moan of pain came from the girl's white lips. + +"Oh, father, I cannot tell you now," she sighed. "Only trust me. Do not +believe me vile and wicked. Perhaps I may be able to tell you the truth +some day." + +As she spoke, some strange, new light flashed into his mind. + +She saw the startled gleam flash into his eyes. + +"Tell me," he cried out, hoarsely, "are you the girl that was dismissed +from Mrs. Desmond's employ under the stigma of a disgraceful suspicion?" + +She covered her face with her hands and faltered "yes," in a voice of +agony. + +"Was that terrible accusation true?" he demanded, in a voice so changed +she could scarcely recognize it. + +"No, never! It was false, I swear it before Heaven. My trouble came to +me before I entered Mrs. Desmond's employ," she replied. + +"Golden, you must tell me the name of the man who has wronged you," he +said, sternly. + +"I cannot," she answered, sorrowfully. + +"You mean you will not," he said. + +"I cannot. I am bound by a promise," she answered. + +"It was a foolish promise. The time has come when you must break it," +he answered, steadily. "You must clear yourself in Mrs. Desmond's eyes, +and reconcile her to her husband. Do you know that they are separated +on your account?" + +"I heard you say so," she replied. + +"It is true, and I am their lawyer. Will you let me write to Mrs. +Desmond, and tell her the name of the man who is really in fault, and +for whose sin she has deserted her innocent husband?" + +"I cannot," she moaned again, in a voice of agony. "I am bound by a +sacred promise. Bitter as the consequences are, I must keep it!" + +It seemed incredible to him that this frail, slight girl should hold +her secret so resolutely in the face of the trouble it had caused. + +"But, Golden, think a moment," he began. + +"I have thought until my brain is almost wild," she interrupted, +pitifully. "But I can see no possible loophole out of my solemn vow of +silence." + +"You were wrong to take such a vow, Golden, and it is almost wicked for +you to keep it. Do you see how much is at stake? Through your silence +a man and his wife are divided in anger and shame, and a cloud of the +blackest disgrace is lowering over your own head. Do you know that it +is a fearful thing to come between husband and wife?" + +"I feel its enormity in the very depths of my heart," she replied, +shuddering and weeping. + +"Then surely you will speak; you _must_ speak," he urged. + +But she only shook her head. + +"Not if I command you to do so?" he asked. + +"Not if you command me," she replied, with mournful firmness. + +There was a moment's silence, and Richard Leith gazed upon the girl +with a sick and shuddering heart. + +A vague suspicion was beginning to steal into his mind. + +What if Golden was deceiving him, and Mrs. Desmond's belief were true? + +He reeled before the sickening horror of the thought. The dread +suspicion seemed to float in fiery letters before his eyes. + +He looked at the bowed figure of the sobbing girl, and steeled his +heart against her. She was no child of his if she could let the shadow +of suspicion tamely rest upon her head. + +"Golden," he said, "think of what I must endure if you refuse to +declare yourself. Would you have me acknowledge a child who has covered +my honorable name with shame? Shall I take you by the hand and say to +the world that honors me as a stainless man: 'This is my daughter. She +has disgraced herself, and brought ruin and despair into another's +home.'" + +She shrank and trembled before the keen denunciation of his words. She +threw herself at his feet and looked up with frightened, imploring eyes. + +"Father, do not disown me," she cried. "I have not disgraced you--you +will know the truth some day. Tell the whole world my piteous story. +It may be--it may be that the telling will bring you joy, not sorrow. +For," she said to her own heart, hopefully, "if Bertram Chesleigh +should hear the truth, and know that I am not a nameless child, surely +he will claim me then. He can no longer be ashamed of me." + +She felt that the happiness of her whole future hung trembling in the +balance on the chance of her father's recognition of her. If in his +anger at her obstinacy he should repudiate her claim on him, nothing +was left her but despair. + +Richard Leith could be as hard as marble when he chose. His pride +and his anger rose in arms now against the thought of receiving this +branded girl as his own daughter. + +"Golden," he said, "what if I say that I will not receive you as my +daughter unless you consent to clear up this disgraceful mystery that +surrounds you?" + +"You will not tell me so--you could not be so cruel," she cried, +fearfully. + +"Only one word, Golden. The name of the man who has wronged you. Tell +me, that I may punish him." + +"You must not, for _I love him_," she moaned, despairingly. + +"You force me to believe that Mrs. Desmond was right, and that you are +a lost and guilty creature," he said scathingly. + +A long, low wail came from her lips, then she bowed her head and +remained silent. + +"Do you still persist in this obstinate silence?" he asked. + +"I must," she answered faintly. + +"Go, then," he thundered at her, "you are no child of mine. I refuse +you the shelter of my home, my name, and my heart. I cannot believe +that you are the child of my innocent little Golden. Go, and never let +me see your face again." + +And with the cruel words he turned and left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +Little Golden stared at the closing door through which her father had +vanished, with blank, terror-filled eyes. To have found him and lost +him like this was too terrible. + +She sat gazing before her like one dazed, with the angry words of +her father still ringing in her ears, when a low and fluttering sigh +recalled her to the fact of Mrs. Leith's presence which she had +forgotten for the moment in her anguish of soul. + +She looked around shrinkingly at the fair woman who had taken her +mother's place, and her mother's name, dreading to meet a glance of +scorn, even transcending that which her father had cast upon her. + +Instead she met the beautiful, troubled eyes of her step-mother fixed +upon her with tenderest pity. + +Mrs. Leith had been vain, careless, and frivolous all her life. She +had never known a care or sorrow in the whole course of her pleasant, +prosperous existence. + +The hard crust of selfishness and indifference had grown over the +better impulses of a nature that at the core was true, and sweet, and +womanly. + +The last hour with its strange revelations had been the turning point +in her life. + +She realized with a shudder the dreadful position in which she was +placed. She was married to a man who, in all probability, had a wife +living. + +It was possible that she herself was almost as much an outcast as the +wretched girl who crouched weeping on the floor, homeless, friendless, +and forsaken, in the hour of her direst need. + +Never before had Mrs. Leith been brought face to face with a real +sorrow. She gazed wonderingly upon poor little Golden, the course +of whose checkered life had run as strangely as that of one of her +favorite novel heroines. + +So it happened that when Golden looked timidly up expecting to be +immediately annihilated by her scornful glance, she met only the +gentlest pity beaming from the large, blue eyes of the unhappy woman. + +"Come to me, Golden," she said, and as the young girl advanced she +asked her in a strangely saddened voice: + +"Are you angry with me, child, that I have filled your mother's place +and worn her name for twelve, long years?" + +"No, I am not angry," Golden answered, gently. "It was through no fault +of yours--you did not know." + +"No, I did not know," Mrs. Leith murmured, putting her hands to her +eyes while the tears fell through her fingers. "I did not know, and now +it is too late." + +"What shall you do now?" Golden asked her wonderingly. + +"I shall go away," Mrs. Leith replied, sadly. + +"Are you angry with my father?" asked the girl. + +"No, Golden, he sinned ignorantly," replied Mrs. Leith. "Therefore I +cannot blame him. But I must go away from him, and never see him again +until he learns the truth whether or not his first wife was living when +he married me." + +Then there was a brief silence. The two women, so lately mistress and +maid--now placed upon the same level by the equalizing hand of sorrow, +sat still a little while looking out upon the unknown future with +dreary, hopeless eyes. Then Mrs. Leith roused herself with an effort. + +"And you, Golden--where will you go? What will you do?" she asked. + +"God knows," the girl exclaimed, hopelessly. "I am so stunned by the +revelations of to-day that I know not where to turn. For weary months +the dream of finding and reclaiming my guilty mother has filled and +occupied my thoughts. Now that I know her innocent and pure, the +terrible mystery of her fate chills the blood in my veins. Where shall +I look for her? How shall I find her?" + +Mrs. Leith looked at her compassionately. + +"Poor child!" she said. "You are too ill and weary to seek for anyone +now. Leave that sorrowful quest to your father, and place yourself in +my care." + +The tears brimmed over in Golden's beautiful eyes at the kindly spoken +words of her step-mother. + +"Oh, madam," she cried, "you offer to befriend me. Then you do not +believe that I am the lost and guilty creature they would fain make me +out." + +Mrs. Leith's beautiful face beamed with sympathy as she answered: + +"No, Golden, I do not believe you are a sinner. I have a strong +conviction that you are a deserted or discarded wife, and I will care +for you in your forlorn situation with the tenderness of your own +mother." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +Richard Leith went down to his office, and threw himself heavily into a +chair, bowing his gray head dejectedly on his hands. + +His brain was almost crazed with the agony of the last hour's discovery. + +The sealed book of the past had been roughly torn open again, and in +agony of soul he repented the selfish course he had pursued with the +fair, young wife he had stolen from her home and friends. + +Where was she now, his beautiful, golden-haired darling? + +What fate had kept her from her home and friends, and from the little +child that had come to such bitter grief in the absence of the +mother-love that might have shielded her from harm? + +He sprang from his chair, and paced impatiently up and down the floor, +while he hurriedly settled his plans. He would leave for the south that +night. + +He would seek out John Glenalvan, and charge him with his sin. + +He would force him to unfold the mystery of little Golden's +disappearance. Perhaps, oh, God, the villain had murdered her. + +If he had, he should suffer the dire punishment the law meted out for +such wretched criminals. + +"But before I go," he said to himself, grimly, "I will go and see +Desmond. If he has lied to me heretofore, woe be unto him. The base +betrayer of my poor child's innocence shall receive no mercy at my +hands." + +He threw on his hat and directed his steps to the hotel where Mr. +Desmond was staying in preference to the grand, deserted dwelling, +which was closed and left in the solitary care of the housekeeper +during the absence of the family. + +Mr. Desmond was smoking in his luxurious parlor, carelessly habited in +dressing-gown and slippers. + +His handsome, debonair face looked pale and worn, and melancholy. A +hopeful gleam came into the listless eyes as his visitor was admitted. + +"Ah, Leith, so glad to see you," he cried, throwing away his cigar, and +eagerly advancing. "You bring me news--Edith has relented?" + +"There is nothing more unlikely," Mr. Leith returned, with grim +truthfulness; then he broke out with fiery impetuosity: "Desmond, for +God's sake tell me the truth. Have you deceived me as well as your +wife? Are you guilty of this monstrous sin?" + +Mr. Desmond was startled by the almost agonizing entreaty of the +lawyer's look and voice. + +On the impulse of the moment he caught up a small Bible that lay upon a +table close at hand, and pressed his lips upon it while he exclaimed in +the deep, convincing tones of truth: + +"Leith, I solemnly swear to you that I am innocent of the crime laid to +my charge, so help me God." + +Something in the man's deep earnestness, and in his look of suffering, +staggered Richard Leith's doubts and fears, and made him feel that +he had been a brute to doubt his daughter's agonized declarations of +innocence. He exclaimed with sudden fervor and earnestness: + +"Mr. Desmond, it is but fair to tell you that I have found the girl, +Mary Smith, and that she exonerates you, too." + +"I was sure she would, although she despises me," cried Mr. Desmond. "I +admit that I behaved despicably to her. I tried to get up a flirtation +with her, but she scorned me with the pride of a queen, and the affair +went no further. I believed her as pure and cold as the snow. No one +was more amazed than myself when I learned the truth through my wife's +causeless jealousy." + +"You say 'causeless jealousy,' Desmond," Mr. Leith remonstrated, +gravely, "but you forget that ever since your marriage you have +persistently wounded your loving and sensitive wife by the most open +and flagrant flirtations, thus giving her the greatest cause to doubt +your fidelity." + +Mr. Desmond looked thoroughly ashamed and penitent at the perfectly +truthful charge. + +"You speak the truth, I have behaved shamefully," he replied. "But I +have had my lesson now. I never knew how much I loved and honored my +sweet and beautiful wife until in her righteous wrath she deserted me. +But if she will believe me this time and return to me, I will never +offend her again by my foolish propensities. I will never even look at +another woman. I am quite cured of flirting." + +He spoke so soberly and earnestly that Mr. Leith was fain to believe +him, but he answered gravely: + +"Your wife is so thoroughly incensed against you, that she will never +believe even your sworn word without additional proof." + +"But how can I prove it to her?" cried the anxious husband. "She would +not believe Mary Smith's denial, and she refuses to credit mine." + +"There is only one way out of the trouble," the lawyer said, gravely. + +"And that?" Mr. Desmond asked, anxiously. + +"Is to find out the man who is really in fault, and obtain his sworn +statement," Richard Leith replied. + +"The girl will give us the necessary information, of course," Mr. +Desmond exclaimed, his spirits rising. + +"On the contrary, she obstinately refuses to do so. She makes a most +perplexing mystery of her unhappy situation." + +Mr. Desmond looked uneasy and perplexed a moment, then he exclaimed, +confidently: + +"It is only a question of blackmail then. She will tell the truth if a +golden bribe is offered her. Depend upon it, she is only waiting for +that." + +"You are mistaken," Richard Leith returned, gravely. "You do not +understand her motives. I will tell you a harrowing secret, Desmond. I +have discovered that that unfortunate girl is my own daughter!" + +In a few eloquent words he told Mr. Desmond the story of his strange +marriage, and its tragic _denouement_--the lost wife, the ruined +daughter. + +In his own despair and agitation, it did not seem strange to the lawyer +that his excitement was reflected on the face of his listener, but +when he had finished his story, Desmond sprang wildly to his feet, +exclaiming: + +"Good God, Leith, I can lay my hand on the destroyer of your child. It +is my wife's brother--it is Bertram Chesleigh!" + +"Heaven, how blind I have been!" Richard Leith exclaimed, with lurid +eyes, and a deathly-pale face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +There was a moment's silence, then Mr. Leith said, huskily: + +"Tell me how this fact came to your knowledge, Desmond." + +"Do you remember the sudden trip my wife and I took to Florida last +summer?" + +"Yes, I heard of it," the lawyer replied. + +"I will go back a few months previous to that trip." Mr. Desmond said. + +"It was this winter a year previous that Bertram Chesleigh made the +acquaintance of young Frederick Glenalvan in New York and was invited +by him to visit his far-away Floridian home. + +"About the first of last June Bert accepted the invitation, and spent +about two weeks at Glenalvan Hall. + +"He wrote to my wife from there, hinting vaguely at having lost his +heart to a perfect 'pearl of beauty.' + +"Edith, who is excessively proud, and mortally afraid of a +_mesalliance_, replied to him coolly, discountenancing the idea and +begging him not to marry out of his own state. + +"Between you and me, Leith, I believe she had a great heiress booked +for the young fellow in New York." + +He paused for breath, but at Richard Leith's look of impatience, went +on hastily: + +"Bertram did not reply to his sister's letter, but in the latter part +of the same month Fred Glenalvan wrote us that Bertram was lying ill +with brain fever. + +"We went to him at once and found him not expected to live, He was +delirious, and through all his illness he called incessantly on one +name. Morning, noon and night it was always, 'Golden, Golden, Golden.'" + +A groan forced itself through Richard Leith's rigid lips, but he did +not speak, and Mr. Desmond continued: + +"That cry for Golden was always coupled with a wild appeal for +forgiveness for some wrong, the nature of which we could not determine. + +"My curiosity and that of my wife were powerfully excited, and we +wondered who the Golden was that he called upon, and why she never came. + +"It was quite evident that the Glenalvans did not care to divulge +the secret, so we never presumed to ask, but when Bertram grew +convalescent Edith inquired of him, and he told her the truth." + +"Let me hear it," said Richard Leith, gaspingly, while the knotted +veins stood out like cords on his forehead. + +"It was the same story your daughter told you--that of a fair young +girl kept aloof from her kind, slighted and scorned for no visible +fault." + +"Bertram met and loved her. They had some secret meetings by night in +one of which they were discovered, and in the scene that followed, the +fact was disclosed that the girl was illegitimate." + +"Oh, my weakness, my sin!" groaned the wretched listener. "Curses upon +John Glenalvan for his horrible villainy." + +"Bertram declared that he had only entertained the most honorable +feelings toward the girl," said Mr. Desmond, "but he confessed that +the knowledge of her parentage so staggered him that he was induced to +forsake her. He left Glenalvan Hall before daylight without seeing her +again." + +"The cowardly cur!" Richard Leith exclaimed, clenching his hands until +the purple nails sunk into the quivering flesh. + +"Hear me out," said Mr. Desmond, quickly, "before you judge him too +hardly." + +"I am listening," answered Richard Leith, trying to master his surging +passions beneath an appearance of calmness. "I am listening, but what +more can there be to say, Mr. Desmond?" + +"This, Mr. Leith: Bertram went away, determined to forsake the hapless +girl, but his love and remorse, and the overpowering cause of shame, +urged his return so powerfully that in three days he returned to +Glenalvan Hall with the full intention of marrying the girl at once, +and taking her abroad with him where no one knew her unfortunate story. + +"When he reached there she was gone--none knew whither. John Glenalvan +told him that she had gone away with the boldly-avowed intention of +leading a life of sin with her mother. Poor Bertram had suffered so +much that he could not bear that crowning blow. He staggered and fell +like a log at the villain's feet. A brain fever followed that nearly +cost him his life." + +"One more score is added to my terrible list against John Glenalvan," +Richard Leith muttered darkly. + +"I have no more to say," continued Mr. Desmond, "except that all the +circumstances point unerringly at Bertram Chesleigh as the man who +wronged your daughter." + +"You are right," groaned the unhappy father. "Oh, God, if only she had +remained at Glenalvan Hall that he might have made reparation for his +sin!" + +"Did not Bertram write to you in relation to the unfortunate affair? He +mentioned an intention to do so," said Mr. Desmond. + +"Only a letter so cautiously worded that I could gain no clew to the +real truth," replied Richard Leith. "No names were mentioned. He only +described the girl who was supposed to have entered some one of the +many nameless houses in this city. He wished me to reclaim her, if +possible, provide her a home, and he agreed to make her a generous +allowance." + +"Poor Bert," said Mr. Desmond, "and all the while she was in his +sister's employ, and in reach of his hand, if he had only known it." + +There was a moment's heavy silence; then Richard Leith rose hastily. + +"I must go home now," he said. "I--may God forgive me--I was so +maddened by my child's wrongs and my own suspicions that I refused to +own her; I drove her away from her rightful home. Pray God that she +be not gone. If she has, I must bring her back and tell her that I +know her whole sad story, and I must make the best I can of her poor, +blighted life." + +"Shall you write to Bertram Chesleigh?" inquired Desmond. + +"Yes, for they must know that they have wronged you, and that you are +innocent," replied the lawyer. "And, Desmond, you must write to your +wife. I will inclose your letter with mine, otherwise, in her pride and +anger, she might return it unopened. I thank God that your fidelity is +vindicated, and that your reunion is now insured." + +"I have a better plan than writing to her," said Desmond, blushing like +a school-girl. "I will follow your letter to her brother, and plead +my cause in person. I cannot wait, Leith; I am too impatient. I long +to meet my wife and child again. You will give me their address? The +_Europa_ sails to-night. I must go with her." + +Mr. Leith saw no objection to the plan. He was sorry for the impatient +husband who had received a lesson that would last a life-time. + +He gave him his wife's address in Italy, with his cordial good wishes +and went away to seek his wronged, unhappy daughter. + +"She cannot have gone yet. She was to weak and ill to have gone to-day. +She would have waited until she was better," he kept whispering to his +reproachful heart as he hurried along. + +Then he thought of the beautiful, fashionable woman who had taken the +place of little Golden's mother, and worn her name for twelve long +years. + +"Poor Gertrude," he murmured sadly. "I wonder how she bears it. Perhaps +she will not grieve much. She does not love me as she did when I first +made her my wife. Perhaps I am to blame. I have chilled her tender +nature by my carelessness or coldness, for I have never loved her as I +did my lost little Golden." + +He hurried up the marble steps and ran impatiently along the hall, +stumbling against the housekeeper, who was pacing sedately along with a +little basket of keys. + +As he was rushing past her she stopped and called to him. + +"Mistress and her maid are gone away, sir." + +"Where?" he inquired, pausing and looking back in bewildered surprise. + +"I cannot tell you, for I do not know," the woman replied, +respectfully. "But she bade me say that she left a letter for you on +her dressing-table." + +He ran up to Mrs. Leith's dressing-room, and found it in some slight +disorder, as if traveling bags had been hurriedly packed. + +Amid the dainty litter of the dressing-table he saw a square envelope +addressed to himself, and hurriedly tore it open. + +His gaze ran over the few pathetic words daintily penciled on the +perfumed, satiny sheet. + +"Richard," she wrote. "I have gone away from you. I have long felt that +I had but a small share in your heart, and now I know that I have, +perhaps, no right to your name, and no place in your home. So it is +best that I should leave you. I have taken little Golden with me. There +is one thing, at least, that I can do. I can be a mother to the child +whose father has disowned her, and whose mother is so tragically lost. + +"You were wrong, Richard. The child has been wronged, but I believe +that she is innocent. I have loved you more than you knew; perhaps more +than you cared, and for your sake I will care for your forlorn child. +You will not seek for us. We are companions in misery, and you will +respect our grief. I cannot tell you where we shall go. But if you find +little Golden's mother I shall know it, and the mother shall have her +child." + +With the simple name, "Gertrude," the letter ended; Richard Leith +reread it slowly, filled with a great surprise and wonder. + +"She will care for the child I treated so heartlessly," he murmured. +"God bless her. I did not know that Gertrude could be so true and +noble. I have wronged her indeed, and she has worn the mask of +carelessness and frivolity over a wounded heart. Oh, God, if I only +knew where to find them." + +He almost cursed himself for his cruelty to his wronged and miserable +daughter. + +He remembered how young she was, and how ignorant of the world when +Bertram Chesleigh had won her heart. Perhaps she was not to blame. +His wrath waxed hot against the man who had betrayed her guileless +innocence. + +He went down and asked the housekeeper if Mrs. Leith had gone away in +the carriage, and she answered that the lady had walked, and the maid +had accompanied her. + +"I cannot go south until I have found them," he said to himself, sadly. +"Poor little Golden, poor Gertrude." + +Before the next day he had visited every depot and every wharf by which +they might have left the city, but he had learned nothing. The next day +after he inserted a personal in the _Herald_: + + "TO GERTRUDE:--Return with Golden. Her true story is known and she is + freely forgiven. Anxiously, R. L." + +But the two for whom that yearning cry was written were fated never to +behold it. And the dreary winter days came and went while he waited for +tidings, filled with the heart-sickness of a great despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +While the winter snow still whirled in blinding drifts through the +streets of New York, the sun shone, the flowers bloomed, the birds sang +around old Glenalvan Hall in far-away Florida. + +Old Dinah crooned her quaint revival hymns in the sunny doorway of the +kitchen, and her old master dozed in the bright, bay-window among the +pots of fragrant flowers. + +It was February, and hints of the nearing spring were in the air that +sighed softly among the flowers, and lifted the thin, white locks from +the brow of old Hugh, as his weary head lay resting on the back of his +easy-chair. + +Very thin, and sad, and mournful looked the old man as he sat in his +easy-chair, with his lonely thoughts fixed ever on the past. He was old +and weary. Life held no charm for him now. + +One thought of the last lonely sheaf waiting for the reaper as he sat +with his withered hands folded, and that look of patient grief on his +thin, white, aged face. + +"Oh, my lost little Golden," he murmured aloud: "She tarries long. The +quest for her mother is a weary one. Oh, that God would give me back +the mother and child, both innocent and pure as when I lost them." + +A sudden shadow fell between him and the light. He looked up and saw a +man standing before him, a man with a pale, worn, troubled face, and +dark eyes that held the story of a tragedy in their somber depths. + +"Pardon," he said, "I have ventured unannounced into your presence. My +name is Richard Leith." + +The old man stared at him with dim, unrecognizing eyes. That name +conveyed no meaning to his mind. He had never heard it before. + +"You are a stranger," he said. + +"Yes," Richard Leith answered, and stood silent a moment. + +How should he tell Hugh Glenalvan that he was the man who had stolen +his daughter from him and desolated his life? + +It was a hard task. His voice quivered and broke as he said: + +"I am a stranger, but I am also your son-in-law." + +"I have no son-in-law," the old man replied, gazing blankly at him. + +"Your daughter was my wife," said Richard Leith. + +"Little Golden?" said the old man, like one dazed. + +"Yes," answered the lawyer. "I stole her from you sixteen years ago, +and made her my darling wife. Oh, sir, can you ever forgive me the +sorrow I have caused you?" + +"A wife! She was a wife! Thank God for that," the old man murmured, +with trembling delight. "And you have brought her back at last. Where +is she, my darling little Golden?" + +"Oh, God!" murmured the conscience-smitten man before him. + +"Let me see her, my sweet child," cried Hugh Glenalvan, feebly rising. +"It was cruel to keep the little one from me so long. Oh, Golden, +Golden, come to me, my darling." + +Richard Leith put him back with gentle hands into his chair. He knelt +down at his feet and told him all his sorrowful story, throwing all the +blame on himself, and pleading humbly for pardon from the father whom +he had robbed of his darling. + +"I loved her," he said. "She was dearer than my own life. I would have +brought her back to you in time. I was only waiting for the fame and +fortune that came to me soon. But treachery came between us. I lost +her, and henceforth I have lived hand in hand with sorrow and despair." + +The soft wind sighing past the window seemed to echo that heavy word +"despair." + +"At the door of John Glenalvan lies your sorrow and mine," continued +Richard Leith, "I am come to call him to account." + +"Who are you that dares arraign John Glenalvan?" exclaimed a harsh, +blatant voice, as the speaker strode rudely into their presence. + +Richard Leith sprang to his feet and confronted the intruder. His dark +eyes blazed with wrath as he answered: + +"I am Richard Leith, the husband of Golden Glenalvan, whom you falsely +reported dead to gain some wicked end of your own. Liar, I have found +you out in your sin! I demand my wronged wife at your hands." + +John Glenalvan glared lividly at the daring man who thus boldly +confronted him with his sin. + +The blood retreated from his face and lips, and his eyes were wild and +startled. + +"Answer me," cried Richard Leith, advancing upon him. "Where is Golden, +my wife?" + +"You lie! She was never your wife," John Glenalvan retorted, furiously. + +"Shame upon you, John, to malign the fair name of your sister," cried +his father, indignantly. "Rather rejoice that she is proved innocent at +last." + +"Let him prove her so, if he can," cried the wretch, maliciously. + +"I can do so. Here is the certificate of my marriage to Golden +Glenalvan in New York sixteen years ago, replied Richard Leith, +unfolding a yellowed paper and holding it open before the eyes of the +father and son. + +"Then she was really your wife," John said, with unwilling belief. + +"Of course she was my wife. How dared you think evil of your own +sister?" demanded the lawyer, scornfully. + +"I do not answer to you for my thoughts, sir," replied John Glenalvan, +angrily. + +"But you must answer to me for the deed which has deprived me of +my wife and child for fifteen years," cried Richard Leith. "John +Glenalvan, where is my wife?" + +"How should I know?" he retorted. + +"It is too late to fence with me," answered Richard Leith. "You, and +you alone, are at the bottom of my wife's mysterious disappearance. You +have either shut her up in solitary confinement, or you have murdered +her!" + +"Murdered her! How dare you hint at such a thing?" John Glenalvan +thundered, growing white with fear. + +"I dare do more," cried the lawyer, driven to desperation. "If you do +not tell me what has become of my wife I will have you arrested for her +murder." + +At these warning words John Glenalvan threw himself upon his accuser +with the cry of an infuriated wild beast. + +Richard Leith was weak and ill. He had risen from a sick-bed, on which +wasting anxiety and grief had thrown him, when he came to Glenalvan +Hall. + +He went down like an infant before the strong fury of his opponent, and +the old man's wailing cry pierced the air. + +"John, hold your hand! For God's sake, do not murder the man!" + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +John Glenalvan did not heed his father's frightened remonstrance. + +He continued to rain furious blows on his feeble but struggling foe. + +The fell instinct of murder was aroused within his soul, and Richard +Leith would have fallen a sure victim to its fury, but that suddenly +the slight form of a woman rushed into the room, and, with a wild and +piercing shriek, sprang upon John Glenalvan's neck, clutching it with +frantic fingers in the endeavor to tear him from his almost dying +victim. + +Almost strangling in the fierce tenacity of her grasp, the wretch +released Mr. Leith, and springing upward with a savage bound, threw his +frail assailant from him into the middle of the room. + +The terrible shock hurled her prostrate on the floor. She lay there +stunned and bleeding, and the wretch, after one horror-struck glance at +her, rushed from the room. + +"Golden--it is Golden! and he has killed her" wailed her grandfather, +falling on his knees beside her; and Richard Leith, where he lay, half +dying, comprehended the anguished wail, and crawled on his hands and +knees to the side of his hapless daughter. + +It was little Golden, indeed, but she lay still and silent, with the +blood oozing from her nostrils and a slight cut on her temple. + +As he reached her side, old Dinah rushed into the room. + +"Little missie, little missie!" she cried; then she stopped short in +terror. "Oh, my Hebenly Master, who has done dis t'ing?" + +"Dinah," her master said quickly, "go and send Fred Glenalvan to me." + +She hobbled out obediently, and in a moment returned with the handsome +young dandy, who glanced at his grandfather with haughty indifference. + +"Fredrick," the old man said, with strange sternness, "here are two +people whom your father has nearly killed. You must go and bring a +doctor for them." + +Frederick started at the sight of the bleeding forms upon the floor, +but in an instant his countenance hardened into marble. + +"If my father has hurt them," he replied, "I doubt not that he had good +reason for doing so, and they may die before I will fetch a physician +to them." + +With that insolent reply he turned on his heel and left the room. + +"Vipers!" muttered the old man, indignantly, then he looked at Dinah +sadly. + +"My faithful old soul," he said, "you must do what you can for them. I +must go and seek for help myself." + +He went feebly from the room and across the lawn. Outside the gates he +encountered a carriage waiting. The driver stood on the ground by the +horses' heads, and a lady sat on the satin cushions with a troubled +look on her lovely, blond face. She sprang out impulsively and came up +to him. + +"Oh, sir," she cried, "I _know_ you are Mr. Glenalvan. Have you seen +little Golden? She went into the hall a few minutes ago." + +"I have seen her, I fear she is dead, and I must bring a doctor," the +old man wailed, heart-brokenly. + +She caught his arm and turned to the driver. + +"Drive into town at your highest speed and fetch a physician," she +said, throwing her purse at his feet, then she took the old man's arm +and hurried him in. + +"I am your little Golden's friend," she explained to him as they went +along. "I came here with her and was waiting outside while she paid you +a visit." + +Old Dinah was bathing the wound of her unconscious mistress when they +entered, and Richard Leith lay upon the floor watching her with dim, +despairing eyes. + +"Oh, Heaven, who has done this terrible deed?" Mrs. Leith cried wildly, +as her eyes took in the dreadful scene. + +"Gertrude," her husband cried out at the sound of her voice, and she +knelt down by him weeping wildly. + +"Oh, Richard, who is it that has killed you and your child?" she sobbed +in anguish. + +"It is John Glenalvan's dreadful work," he replied, then he looked into +her face with dim, yearning eyes. + +"Gertrude! I believe I am dying," he said faintly. "Will you forgive me +before I die?" + +"Forgive you?" she said. "Ah, Richard, do not think that I blamed you. +You sinned ignorantly." + +"Yes, ignorantly," he echoed, and a spasm of pain crossed his face an +instant, then he said sadly: "But I did not mean _that_, Gertrude. I +meant you must forgive me that I was careless and blind, that I did not +prize your true heart more." + +She put her white hand to her heart, and a look of pain came into the +large, blue eyes, then she said with mournful pathos: + +"For all the heartaches I have borne. Richard, I freely forgive you." + +"Thank you," he murmured, then his eyes dwelt on her gratefully. "It +was so noble in you to care for my poor child," he murmured, "but +Gertrude, I repented in an hour. I came back to tell her so, and she +was gone, both were gone. I sought you everywhere, my heart nearly +broke; I fell ill, and lay for weary weeks fevered and maddened by my +impatience and anxiety. At last I grew better and came here!" + +"Have you found _her_?" she murmured, anxiously, while the red blood +suffused her fair cheeks. + +He shook his head mournfully, and his eyes closed languidly. She +believed that he was dead, and started up with a cry of woe, but when +the physician came a little later he decided that he was only in a deep +swoon. + +Golden recovered consciousness, and the hapless father and daughter +were removed to adjoining rooms, the physician veering anxiously from +one room to another. + +He believed that Mr. Leith's life might be saved by his medical skill, +but he shook his head ominously over the beautiful, golden-haired +child, whose shrill wails of agony pierced every heart, for in the +agitation of her mind, and the fearful shock of her heavy fall, the +pangs of premature motherhood had came upon her. + + * * * * * + +John Glenalvan had fled from the scene of his villainy with a speed +to which sudden fear and remorse had lent wings. He believed that he +had killed Richard Leith and his unfortunate child, and in the fear of +punishment for his crime he did not even stop to apprise his family of +what had occurred, but hurried away to seek a hiding-place for himself. + +Too late he regretted the blind rage that had forced him into the +commission of such a desperate deed. The cries of his victims seemed to +pursue him in his hurried flight. + +His son reported his cowardly deeds to his mother and sister, and they +remained lost in fear and wonder. + +To do them justice, wicked as they were, they had no idea of the +enormity of John Glenalvan's sin. They honestly believed that his +sister Golden had disgraced the family. They dreamed not of the dread +secret locked in his breast. + +Clare made a stealthy tour of discovery into the western wing, and soon +finding out how matters stood, returned to her mother in a frenzy of +wrath and anger against her hapless cousin, little Golden. + +"Oh, mother, such dreadful goings on," she said. "That shameless girl +sick in one room, a strange man dead in another, and a doctor, and +old Dinah, and a strange woman tending them. If I were you, mother, +I really should not stand it. I would turn the whole tribe out of +doors--should not you, Fred?" + +But Frederick, who, despite his defiant manner to his grandfather, +looked pale and uneasy, vetoed the proposition as imprudent. + +"I do not know what provocation my father had to maltreat them so," +he said, "but certainly, they have a bad case against him; and if the +man is dead, as you say, Clare, and if our cousin dies, too, they can +indict him for murder." + +Mrs. Glenalvan and her daughter were so frightened at that grim word, +murder, that they broke into hysterical tears and sobbing, while the +hopeful son and heir sat silent, overwhelmed by the dread of evil that +had fallen upon them all, to which was added the terrors of doubt and +suspense. + +"That strange man and woman--who can they be, Fred?" inquired his +mother. + +"I cannot tell; but I have my suspicions," he replied. "I believe they +are the parents of Golden." + +"It is no wonder, then, that papa was goaded into attempting murder," +cried Clare. "Only think of the impudence of our wicked aunt in coming +back to Glanalvan Hall. I should think father must have been maddened +at the very sight. And yet, mother, she is one of the fairest women I +ever saw. She does not look like a lost woman. She has a very innocent +appearance." + +There were others beside these three, who wondered over the beautiful, +strange woman who claimed to be little Golden's friend. + +Old Dinah and her master gazed upon her wonderful beauty, which +reminded them so powerfully of the missing Golden's, and they wondered +what her name could be. + +Old Dinah asked her at last what she should call her, and she answered +simply, though with a burning blush: + +"My name is Gertrude." + +"Mrs. or Miss?" asked the inquisitive old negress, and again the lady's +face grew crimson as she answered: + +"Mrs." + +"They must not know that I was his wife," she said to herself, +resolutely. "I could not bear to have them know it. Perhaps they would +hate me and judge him unjustly." + +But her tears fell heavily as she looked at the deathly white face +laying on the pillow, and she wondered to herself if it would not be +less hard for her to see him die then and there, than live to find his +lost wife again. + +"God forgive me for my weakness and selfishness," she cried, starting +at her own thoughts. "May he live to find the happiness of which he has +been cheated so long." + +The long, weary night, filled with mortal agony to poor little Golden, +slowly wore away. + +At the earliest peep of dawn a messenger arrived from the town with a +telegram for Mr. Leith. + +He lay barely conscious on his pillow, breathing heavily and slow, and +the physician read the message to him cautiously. + +It was from Mr. Desmond, and ran briefly: + +"We arrived in New York this hour. Is Golden with you? Bertram is +half-crazed with anxiety." + +And across the lightning wires the fatal message flashed back to their +anxious hearts: + +"_Golden is here. Her child is dead and she is dying._" + +Dying! This was the end of that brief dream of love, those weary months +of supreme self-sacrifice. + +Whiter than the pillow on which she lay, beautiful Golden was breathing +her sad young life out in heavy sighs and moans, while hidden carefully +out of sight beneath its white linen sheet, "There lay the sweet, +little baby that never had drawn a breath." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +Into that splendid home in New York where the Desmonds had just +arrived from Europe, that terrible telegram came like a thunder-clap. +Bertram Chesleigh's repentant soul reeled in agony before it. + +"I am justly punished for my cowardly desertion of my darling," he +groaned to his sister, to whom he had confided his sorrowful secret. +"But, oh, God! how terribly I have suffered for the weakness and folly +of an hour!" + +Edith, whose heart had been strangely changed and softened since her +reconciliation with her husband, wept with him over the dreadful news. + +"Bertram, we must go to her," she said. "In death, if not in life, we +must lift the shadow from the poor girl's memory. Elinor Glenalvan is +going home to-day. Shall we accompany her?" + +"Yes; but do not tell her why we go. She hated my poor, little Golden," +he answered, sighing heavily. + +Elinor wondered secretly over their going, but rejoiced also. She had +gone abroad with them, had had a most delightful time, and she sighed +to think that the end had come at last. + +But one thing grieved her most of all. All her arts and her beauty, +added to Mrs. Desmond's influence, had failed to win Bertram Chesleigh. + +She almost hated him when she thought of going home to hear her +mother's lamentations over her failure, and her sister's taunts. + +Her spirits rose at the welcome news that he was going south with her. + +Perhaps she might triumph yet. It was a hopeful augury that he was not +willing to lose sight of her yet. + +Poor vain and artful Elinor! She did not dream of the real truth. + +She believed that Golden had been thrust out of her way forever. + +Strangely enough, though she had known the true cause of the Desmonds' +separation, she had never been able to ferret out the reason of their +reconciliation. + +Immediately after Mr. Desmond reached Italy his wife had summarily +dismissed Celine. + +No hints, nor careless appearance of wonder on Elinor's part could +elicit the reason for the maid's dismissal. + +She only knew that the Frenchwoman had gone away in insolent triumph, +taking with her the money she had wrested from her in payment for her +treachery to poor little Golden. + +Mrs. Desmond's generous impulse to accompany her brother was frustrated +by the sudden illness of her little daughter, so Bertram was forced to +go on his sad mission without her, and Elinor was jubilant over the +prospect of a long, delightful trip under his exclusive care. + +Anticipation and reality are different things, however, as Elinor was +fated to learn. + +Never was there a more gloomy or self-absorbed cavalier than the +handsome and entertaining Mr. Chesleigh on this occasion. + +Elinor bit her ruby lip and looked daggers as he lounged in his seat, +pretending to be absorbed in a newspaper, but with lips compressed +beneath his dark mustache, and a strange, somber light in the large, +black eyes that puzzled Elinor, who had not the key to his mood. + +Indeed she began to be conscious of a vague feeling of dread and +anxiety. + +She asked herself over and over why he had chosen to bear her company +on her homeward way. + +Evidently it was through no tenderness for her. Though scrupulously +polite and attentive, he preserved the appearance of distant +friendliness in too marked a fashion to be misinterpreted. + +When at last, after traveling without delay or rest, they found +themselves seated in the carriage that was to convey them to Glenalvan +Hall, Elinor felt a certain sense of relief mingled with her chagrin +and disappointment. She loved Bertram Chesleigh, but his moodiness and +silence were strangely oppressive. + +"Why did he come with me?" she asked herself for the last time as +the carriage rolled along the breezy, wooded drive, and her strange +companion lay back among the cushions, his hat tilted over his eyes, +his face pale, his lips working convulsively. "What will Clare say when +she sees how disdainfully he treats me? How she will triumph at my +disappointment." + +Her heart sank at the prospect of returning to the quietude and +dreariness of Glenalvan Hall after the gay, easy, luxurious life she +had led for the last few months. + +For a moment her love for the indifferent man beside her was +transformed to hate. + +Why had he slighted her beauty, and her fascinations to turn to that +doll-faced child whose life was a disgrace to the Glenalvans? + +She hated Bertram Chesleigh because he had not rescued her from the +poverty of which she had grown so weary, and from which his love might +have delivered her. + +"At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I removed that little +vixen, Golden, from his pathway," she thought, with vindictive triumph. +"If she had remained who knows what might have happened? I should like +to know what became of her when she left Mrs. Desmond's. I sincerely +hope she drowned herself in the sea!" + +The carriage turned a sudden bend in the road, and Elinor, leaning idly +forward to note the old, familiar landmarks, gazed intently one moment, +then uttered a stifled cry of terror. + +Bertram Chesleigh started, like one awaking from a dream. + +"What is it? Has anything alarmed you, Miss Glenalvan?" he inquired, +courteously. + +"Look there," she cried, fearfully, pointing her hand through the +window. + +He followed the direction of her finger and saw--oh horror, that they +were passing the burial-ground of the Glenalvans. + +He saw a little band of black-robed mourners grouped around a narrow +mound of freshly-thrown-up earth. + +He saw the minister standing at the head of the grave with his open +book, and fancied he could hear him repeating the solemn, beautiful +words with which we consign "ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." + +"Pray tell the driver to stop," Elinor cried out, excitedly, "I must +get out. Someone of my own family must be dead." + +He made no answer. He was handing her out with hands that trembled as +nervously as her own. One terrible, blasting thought was in his mind. + +"It is Golden, my wronged, little wife, and my babe that I never saw, +whom they are hiding beneath that little mound," he said to himself, in +agony. "Oh, God! that I should have come only in time for this!" + +He opened the little, white gate that led into the green burial-place, +with its glimmering, white stones, and Elinor silently followed him. + +The little group about the grave fell back as they approached, and they +saw the men throwing up the earth upon the new-made grave. Its dull, +awful thud fell like the crash of a great despair upon his heart. + +"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," murmured the minister's solemn voice, +and the conscience-stricken man fell on his knees and hid his face in +his hand, afraid and ashamed, for that deep voice seemed to condemn him +for the evil he had wrought. + +A weak and trembling hand fluttered down on his shoulder, and a thin, +quavering voice sounded reproachfully in his ear: + +"So you have come to exhult over your wicked work, Bertram Chesleigh." + +The wretched man looked up into the streaming eyes of old Hugh +Glenalvan. + +At a little distance he saw old black Dinah regarding him with looks +of horror and loathing. A beautiful, golden-haired woman stood apart, +weeping silently, and Elinor Glenalvan had gone to the minister and was +speaking to him agitatedly. + +Bertram sprang up desperately. + +"Oh, sir, for God's sake," he cried to the dejected old man, "tell me +whom they have buried here!" + +And the answer came in broken tones: + +"Golden Glenalvan and her babe." + +Bertram Chesleigh, kneeling in the dust that was heaped above the dead +heart that had loved him so devotedly, lifted his hands and eyes to +Heaven, and cried out, in a broken, contrite voice: + +"I call God to witness that it is Golden Chesleigh, not Golden +Glenalvan, you have buried here. This dead girl was my wife, made so +by a secret marriage last summer. It is my wife and my child you have +hidden from me in this low grave. May God forgive me for the wrong I +did them." + +Then, unable to bear the strain upon his nerves and his heart any +longer, the wretched man fell forward heavily, and lay in a deep swoon +across the mound that covered little Golden and her child. + +A terrible punishment had been meted out to him for the pride and +selfishness that had made of his innocent child-wife an outcast, and a +creature at whom to point the finger of a seemingly just scorn. + +The deathless flame of that deep "remorse that spurns atonement's +power" had been kindled in his heart, never to go out save with the +breath of life. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +For a few moments all believed that Bertram Chesleigh was dead. Elinor +Glenalvan, filled with astonishment and deadly rage, devoutly hoped +that he was. + +Her love had turned to hate, and as by a sudden flash she understood +fully the passion of remorse and despair that had brought him to +Glenalvan Hall. + +The vindictive wish came over her that he had died before he had spoken +the brave words that had cleared the stain from the memory of the girl +she had hated with such jealous fire and passion. She had yet to learn +that every shadow had been cleared from Golden's name. + +While she stood like a statue, and angrily regarded the striking scene, +the others busied themselves with the restoration of the unconscious +man. + +Dinah brought cold water from a little spring, and bathed his face and +hands. Gertrude held her smelling-salts to his nose. + +In a short time he revived and looked about him with an agony of sorrow +in his pale, drawn face. His first conscious thought was of his loved +and deeply-wronged wife. + +"She is dead," he groaned. "I shall never hear her sweet lips pronounce +my pardon. Oh, God, did she leave me no message? Did she not curse me +in dying for the woe I had wrought?" + +They all stood aloof from him except Gertrude. She told him what he +asked in a grave and gentle voice. + +"She made no mention of you, Mr. Chesleigh. She was patient and brave +to the last. She kept her vow of silence to the bitter end, and died +with the story of her innocence untold." + +"I, coward that I was, bound her to secrecy," he said, "but I did not +dream then of what would happen after. I wish to God that she had +spoken and vindicated her honor." + +And again an expression of the deepest sorrow convulsed the dark, +handsome face. + +"She was too true and loyal to break her vow," answered Gertrude, +tearfully. "I believe that the shame and sorrow of it all killed her. +She was a martyr to her love." + +He groaned and dropped his head upon his folded arms. There was +silence, and every eye but Elinor's rested tearfully upon the low mound +beneath which slumbered the poor girl who had died with the brand of +the erring upon her, but who in this hour was proven guiltless and +pure, as Gertrude had said, a patient martyr to affection. + +"Oh, that I might have seen her even once," groaned Bertram Chesleigh, +turning instinctively for comfort to the sweet, sympathetic face of +Gertrude. "Oh, tell me, did she suffer in dying? Was she conscious?" + +She shook her head. + +"No, she passed from a quiet slumber into death. The change was so +gradual we scarcely knew when she was gone." + +"Gone!" + +The word thrilled him with a keen and bitter pain. The sweet, +child-wife he had loved so dearly was lost from his life forever. She +was gone from a world that had used her harshly and coldly, to take her +fitting place among the angels. + +The soft wind sighing through the trees and the grass seemed to murmur +her requiem: "_Requiescat in pace_." + +He rose and stood among them, his heavy eyes turning to the sad, old +face of the grandfather whom he had bereaved of his darling. He held +out his hand to him humbly. + +"_She_ is gone from us, and I cannot sue for her pardon," he said, +wistfully. "But will you not forgive me, sir, for the sorrow my +weakness and pride brought upon her and you?" + +But old Hugh Glenalvan's kindly blue eyes flashed upon him with a gleam +of their youthful fire, and his voice quivered with anger and despair +as he replied: + +"I will never forgive you unless _she_ should rise from the grave and +forgive you too!" + +"Ye must forgive as ye would be forgiven," said the gentle, admonitory +voice of the man of God. + +But the indignant old man shook off his suppliant hand. + +"She was his wife, and he discarded and deserted her. There is no +forgiveness for such a sin," he said, with fiery scorn, as he turned +away. + +They went away and left Bertram alone with the wronged and quiet dead. + +Gertrude, in her gentle, womanly pity would fain have persuaded him to +go home with them, but he refused to listen. + +"Leave me to my lonely vigil here," he said, sorrowfully. "If her +gentle spirit is yet hovering about she may accept my bitter grief and +repentance as some atonement." + +When they had all gone and left him he bowed his head with a bitter cry. + +"Oh, Golden, my lost, little darling, only six feet of earth between +us, and yet I shall never see you, speak to you, nor hear you again!" + +A low, respectful cough interrupted the mournful tenor of his thoughts. + +He glanced up and saw the old grave-digger leaning on his spade and +regarding him wistfully. + +"What are you waiting for, my man?" he inquired, feeling impatient at +this seeming intrusion on his grief. + +"If you please, sir, I have not yet finished throwing up the earth and +shaping the mound," said the man, with some embarrassment. + +A bitter cry came from Bertram Chesleigh's lips. + +"What! would you bury her still deeper from my sight?" he cried. "Oh, +rather throw off this heavy covering of earth and suffer me to look +upon my darling one again." + +The man stared at him half fearfully. + +"Oh, sir, your sorrow has almost crazed you," he said. "You had better +return to your friends and leave me here to finish my necessary work." + +But a new thought, born of his grief and remorse, had come into the +mind of the mourner. + +"My man, look at me," he said, earnestly; "I want you to open this +grave and let me see my wife again. You cannot refuse me when I pray +you to do it. Only think! They have buried my child and I have never +even seen its face. I must kiss the babe and its mother once, I cannot +go away until I have done so." + +"Oh, sir, surely you are going mad," the man cried, alarmed. "I have +never heard of such a thing. I could not do it if I would. I could not +take the coffin out alone." + +"Let me help you," said the distracted mourner. + +"What you wish is quite impossible, sir," faltered the man, anxiously; +"let me beg you to go on to the hall, and leave me to finish my sad +duty." + +"You must not refuse me, it will break my heart," Bertram Chesleigh +cried, "I will pay you well. See," he drew out a handful of shining +gold pieces. "I will give you a hundred dollars if you will show me the +faces of my wife and child." + +The dull eyes of the grave-digger grew bright at that sight. He was +poor, and a hundred dollars were wealth to him. + +"I am sorry for you, sir, I wish I could do what you wish. That money +would do my poor wife and children a deal of good. If you could wait +until night," he said, lowering his voice and glancing significantly +around him, "I might get help and do the job for you." + +Some whispered words passed between them: then Bertram Chesleigh rose +and passed out of the green graveyard, casting one yearning look behind +him at the low grave that held his darling. + +He bent his lagging footsteps toward old Glenalvan Hall, whose +ivy-wreathed towers glistened picturesquely in the evening sunshine. + +Bertram went in through the wide entrance, and crossing the level lawn +walked along the border of the beautiful lake. + +"It was here that we parted," he murmured to himself, in his sorrowful +retrospection. "How beautiful, how happy she was, how full of love +and trust. Oh, God, what dark spell came over me, and made me for +twenty-four terrible hours false to my love and my vows? That old man +was right. There is no forgiveness for such a terrible sin!" + +Frederick Glenalvan saw him from the house, and came down to meet him. + +"Chesleigh, I have heard all," he said, with pretended sympathy, +"Elinor told us. My dear friend, how sorry I am for you. I was about +to go and seek you. You must come up to the house and take some +refreshment. You look ready to drop." + +"I feel fearfully ill," said Chesleigh, staggering unsteadily, and +putting his hand to his head. "I need something, but do not ask me +to accept the shelter of your roof, Fred. I have a quarrel with your +father. He has bitterly deceived me, and must answer to me for his sin. + +"Father is not at home. He has been absent for several days," said +Fred, confusedly. "But if you will not come up to the hall sit down +here on this bench, and I will bring you some wine." + +Bertram obeyed his request almost mechanically. His head ached, and he +felt dull, lifeless and inert. + +The grief and excitement under which he had labored for several days +were beginning to tell heavily upon his overstrained nerves. With the +murmured name of Golden, his head drooped on his breast and he relapsed +into semi-unconsciousness. + +He was aroused by a hand lifting his head, and starting into +consciousness, saw Frederick Glenalvan by his side, and Elinor standing +before him with a small tray on which were arranged a glass of wine and +several slices of cake. He did not notice how white and strange she +looked, nor how steely her voice sounded as she said: + +"You are faint and ill. Drink this--it will revive you." + +She put the wine to his lips, and he drank it thirstily. A fire seemed +to run through his veins, new life came into his limbs. He arose and +thanked her, but refused the cake. + +"I am better, but I cannot eat; it would choke me," he said, and Elinor +did not press him. She turned away, and as she passed the lake she +furtively tossed the wine-glass in, and the cake after it. + +"So father had deceived him, and must answer to him for his sin," she +said to herself, bitterly, as she walked along. "Well, well, we shall +see! Oh, how I hate him! Yet once I loved him, and hoped to be his +wife. I might have been if that little jade had never come between. Oh, +how I hate her even in her grave!" + +She went back to the hall, walking like one in a dream, with lurid, +blazing eyes, and a face blanched to the pallor of a marble image, +muttering wickedly to herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +When Elinor had gone, Frederick Glenalvan turned curiously to Chesleigh. + +"So you were really the husband of Golden Leith, and not her betrayer, +as everybody believed?" he said. + +"Yes, she was my lawful wife; but why do you call her Golden Leith?" +Bertram Chesleigh inquired, curiously. + +"Did you not know," said Fred, carelessly, "that she had found her +father? He is a New York lawyer, and his name is Richard Leith. It +seems that her mother was really married to him after all." + +"Thank God! Then there is really not a shadow of disgrace upon my poor, +wronged wife," cried Bertram Chesleigh, gladly. "Oh, God! if only she +had lived." + +He was silent a moment, then asked, suddenly: + +"Where is Richard Leith now?" + +"He is lying ill in the western wing of Glenalvan Hall," Frederick +replied, with some embarrassment at the inward consciousness of who +caused that illness. + +"Is is possible? I must go to him at once," cried Bertram, starting up. +"I am an old friend of Richard Leith. Will you accompany me, Fred?" + +Frederick walked with him across the grassy slope of the lawn, but left +him in the wide corridor that separated the divided dwellings of the +strangely sundered family. + +"I can accompany you no further," he said, confusedly. "The truth is, +Mr. Leith and father have had a little difficulty, and we are not on +the best of terms." + +He turned away, and Bertram knocked nervously on the door before him, +and was admitted by Dinah, who scowled blackly when she saw whom the +visitor was. + +"I wish to see Mr. Leith," he said, and the old woman silently motioned +him to follow her into the sick man's room. + +White as the pillows on which he lay, was Richard Leith, but there +was a smile of peace on his face, for Gertrude was sitting in a chair +by his bedside, and she had been telling him of the strange scene at +Golden's burial that evening; how Bertram Chesleigh had claimed her as +his wife, and the child for his own. + +"Thank God! she was innocent and pure. Oh, how could I ever have +doubted the child of my precious Golden," cried the bereaved father, in +a passion of remorse and grief. + +"You know the whole truth, now. Can you ever forgive me?" inquired +Bertram, advancing. + +"You here, Bertram Chesleigh? Oh, how could you have been so cruel?" +exclaimed Mr. Leith, excitedly, as he rose on his elbow, and looked at +the pale face and gleaming eyes of the intruder. + +"I will tell you all the truth, and perhaps you will understand me +better," began Bertram Chesleigh, eagerly, but before the words were +ended, a terrible change came over his face. It was distorted by +contortions of pain, and with a shrill cry of agony he fell to the +floor in strong convulsions. + +Gertrude sprang from her chair with a frightened shriek that brought +Dinah rushing into the room with her old master close at her heels, +followed by the hired nurse who had the care of Mr. Leith. + +"This man is dying--bring a doctor at once!" cried Gertrude, shrilly. + +"The doctor is here, madam," said the pleasant voice of the physician +himself, who had just entered the door on his usual daily visit to Mr. +Leith. "Why, what have we here?" + +He bent down over the tall, superb form that lay upon the floor +writhing in a violent fit. + +There were a few moments of busy silence while he worked over the +patient, then he looked up with a dark frown on his broad brow. + +"Who is this man, and how came he here?" he inquired. + +"He is my son-in-law, doctor, and he had barely entered the room when +he fell in a fit," said Richard Leith. "What ails him?" + +Another dire contortion of the prostrate form, and the busy physician +answered, sternly: + +"He has all the symptoms of arsenical poisoning." + + * * * * * + +The hovering night fell rainy, dark, and cheerless. The skillful +physician worked steadily, anxiously, and patiently, trying to save +from the grasp of the fell destroyer the writhing victim of Elinor +Glenalvan's deadly hate and wicked revenge. + +Everyone was filled with grief and sorrow. All warring passions, all +human resentments were forgotten in the anxiety with which they watched +the wavering balance in which Bertram Chesleigh lay fluctuating between +life and death. + +Arsenic had been administered to him in a draught of wine, declared the +physician, and the wonder arose who had given it to him. + +Someone started the theory that he had taken it himself, with intent to +commit suicide. + +Then they searched him, but not a grain of the deadly drug was +discovered on his person. It was all a baffling mystery. + +They had left him mourning despairingly over little Golden's grave, +and they had seen him no more until he had come to them in this awful +condition. + +"If I had not come in at the moment I did, no earthly power could have +saved him," declared the physician; "As it is, I hope--mind, I only say +hope--that I may save his life." + +At midnight Gertrude stole to the outer door for a breath of fresh air. +She felt faint, weary and dispirited. + +The death of Golden, whom she had learned to love very deeply, had +deeply grieved her saddened heart. + +"Poor child," she moaned, sitting down on the marble steps and gazing +sadly at the silver crescent of the young moon as it struggled through +a bank of clouds; "she has had a fate as tragic and sad as her poor +young mother's." + +The sound of muffled footsteps on the grass caused Gertrude to start up +with a sudden cry. + +A youth was coming toward her, and his low, entreating "stay, madam," +arrested her contemplated flight. + +He came close to her side, and as his rough garments brushed the stone +ballustrade, the cool, moist smell of newly thrown up earth came +distinctly to her senses. + +She shivered and thought of that new-made grave lying in the silence +and calm of the dewy night. + +"Will you tell me if Mr. Chesleigh is here, ma'am?" he inquired, +respectfully. + +"Yes, he is here. What can you want of Mr. Chesleigh at this unseemly +hour of the night?" she inquired, in wonder. + +"I have important business with him," said the youth, and Gertrude +thought she detected a trembling, as of fear, in his voice. "Can I see +him a moment, if you please?" + +"No, you cannot, for he is ill and unconscious, and we fear that he is +dying," she replied. + +A smothered exclamation escaped from the youth's lips. + +"Oh, this is dreadful!" he said, as if unconscious of having a +listener. "What shall we do now?" + +"Can I help you?" asked Gertrude, gently. + +He bent toward her eagerly. + +"Oh, madam, you are a friend of the poor lady that was buried this +afternoon?" he said, almost fearfully. + +"Yes," she answered, with a quickened heart-beat. + +"Then come with me, for God's sake. There is not a minute to lose. +Don't be afraid. No harm shall come to you." + +So impressed was Gertrude by the youth's strange eagerness that she +followed him without a word across the green lawn, through the wide +gate, and along the winding road. + +"Not here!" she said, aghast, as he paused at the white gate of the +Glenalvan burying ground. + +"Yes, even here," he answered, solemnly; and the gate-latch clicked +softly beneath his hand. "Follow me, lady. No harm shall happen you." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +When Bertram Chesleigh came to full consciousness again he found +himself lying on a couch in Mr. Leith's bedroom. + +The curtains were drawn at the windows, but the light of the full day +glimmered through, and he saw the grave-faced physician sitting beside +him, while Richard Leith, from the bed opposite, regarded him with an +intent expression. He struggled up feebly and pressed his hand to his +brow. + +"I have had a shock," he said, with an air of strange perplexity, as he +looked into their anxious faces. "What was it? What has happened to me?" + +"You have been near to death's door," replied the physician, gravely, +"but you will recover now." + +"I wish that I had died!" the young man burst out, with such passionate +realization of his misery, that the doctor exclaimed, incautiously: + +"So, then, you _did_ try to commit suicide?" + +The brilliant, dark eyes looked at him in amazement. + +"Suicide! suicide!" he repeated, blankly. "Who dares to say that of me?" + +The doctor regarded him thoughtfully. + +"My dear sir," he said, quietly, "I happened in here very opportunely +last evening and found you suffering all the terrible symptoms of +arsenic poisoning. Your friends feared that your grief had unhinged +your mind, and that under temporary aberration you had attempted the +destruction of your own life." + +"They were wrong. I could never have been such a coward," Bertram +answered, in such a tone of convincing truthfulness that no one could +doubt him. "Indeed, doctor, you must have been mistaken. I have taken +no drug recently." + +"I am not mistaken," the physician asserted, confidently. "You had most +certainly had arsenic administered to you in a draught of wine." + +A startled gleam came into Mr. Chesleigh's eyes, his face whitened, a +cry of horror came from his lips. + +"Doctor, are you quite, quite sure?" he exclaimed. + +"I would swear to the drug," was the instant reply. "Do you admit the +wine?" + +"Yes," came the grave reply; "I drank a glass of wine before coming in +here yesterday evening, but I did not dream it was drugged," and an +expression of almost incredulous horror swept over the handsome face. + +"Who gave you the wine?" inquired the doctor and Richard Leith almost +simultaneously. + +But Bertram Chesleigh shook his head. + +"Do not ask me," he said. "It is terrible, yet I will not betray my +would-be destroyer." + +"It was one of the Glenalvans," asserted Richard Leith, seeing the +truth as by a flash of light. + +"Do not ask me," the young man replied again. "I must not tell you. It +is too terrible. I can scarce believe the dread reality myself." + +But though he refused to reveal the secret, Richard Leith felt morally +certain that it was to some of the family of John Glenalvan the young +man owed the attempted destruction of his life. He had heard that +Elinor had "set her cap" at him. + +This, then, was the dreadful revenge she had taken for her +disappointment. + +The physician went away and left them together. Then the lawyer told +his son-in-law his whole sad story. Bertram's indignation knew no +bounds. + +"May the curse of an offended God rest upon John Glenalvan's head!" he +exclaimed. "It is to him and his family that my poor Golden owes the +bitter sorrows of her brief life. My sister's maid, Celine, confessed +that it was Elinor Glenalvan who discovered Golden's identity, and +bribed her to send her away under a ban of disgrace. Oh, God, Leith, +could I only have known that the girl little Ruby loved so dearly, and +who shunned me so persistently, was my deserted wife, how joyously +would I have taken her to my heart and claimed her for my own." + +"Yes, if you had only known," Richard Leith replied, with mournful +emphasis. "My poor young daughter, hers indeed was a hard lot. Scorned +by her kindred, deserted by her husband, despised and disowned by her +miserable father! How glad she must have been to creep into the kindly +shelter of the grave! Ah, Heaven, Chesleigh, I never can forget my own +wretched share in breaking that tender heart." + +His head sank back on his pillow, and almost womanly tears coursed over +his pale cheeks. + +"But she forgave me before she died," he continued, pathetically, after +a little. "She was an angel, Chesleigh. I can never forget how sweet +and patient she was. The day before she died they carried me into her +room. I lay on a couch by the side of her bed. They showed me the +beautiful little waxen image--the babe that had never drawn a single +breath of life in this world, and I could not keep from crying when +they said her terrible fall had killed the child. The minister came, +and told her that she must die in a few hours, too. But was it not +strange, Chesleigh? She smiled sadly and shook her head." + +"'No, you are all mistaken,' she said. 'I should not be sorry to die, +but my time has not come yet. I cannot die until I know whether I shall +meet my mother in Heaven, or whether she is still on earth.' + +"But that night she passed away peacefully in her sleep. It was so calm +and gradual we did not know when the end had come. It was like those +sweet lines of Hood: + + "'We watched her breathing through the night, + Her breathing soft and low, + As in her breast the wave of life + Went heaving to and fro. + Our very hopes belied our fears, + Our fears our hopes belied; + We thought her dying when she slept, + And sleeping when she died.'" + +He ceased, and there was a heavy silence in the room. Bertram Chesleigh +broke it in a hushed, low voice. + +"Poor, martyred child! Was she, then, so anxious to find her mother?" + +"She declared that it was the one dream of her life-time," Richard +Leith replied. + +"And there is no clew save that which John Glenalvan holds?" inquired +Bertram, thoughtfully. + +"None, and the villain has fled. I do not believe his own wife and +children know aught of his whereabouts." + +A look of grave determination swept over Bertram's handsome, pallid +face. + +"Then I will take up the quest where it dropped from Golden's little +hand in dying. I will track the villain, if it is to the end of the +world. It shall be my task to vindicate her mother's memory," he said, +gravely and earnestly. + +"It is _my_ task rather," said Richard Leith. + +"We will join hands in the effort," his son-in-law answered. + +Old Dinah came in with a note for Mr. Leith. It was from Gertrude. + + "I have gone away," she wrote. "I can leave you no address, but I + shall be cognizant of all that transpires at Glenalvan Hall, and I + may see you again ere long. You will soon be well enough to go about + again, and that you may be enabled to solve the distressing mystery + of your lost wife's fate, is the earnest prayer of + + "GERTRUDE." + +"Surely no man was ever placed in such a terrible position," said +Richard Leith. "For aught I know, I may have two wives living." + +"It is through no fault of yours," replied Mr. Chesleigh; "but it is +most distressing. Your second wife appears to be a very beautiful and +winning woman." + +"She is both, but I never discovered her worth until it was too late to +love her," Mr. Leith replied, sadly. "Her noble conduct to my helpless +daughter first opened my eyes to her lovable character." + +"God bless her!" Bertram Chesleigh uttered, fervently. + +They had some further conversation, and then Mr. Chesleigh announced +his intention of going away. + +"I will not trespass further on Mr. Glenalvan's hospitality," he said +decidedly. "I do not forget how much reason he has to hate the sight of +me." + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +The twilight hour found Bertram Chesleigh wending his way to the green +graveyard where his hapless wife lay buried. As he had hoped, he found +the old grave-digger waiting for him. + +He had been sodding the mound with velvety green turf, and planting +lilies and immortelles upon it. + +"Why have you done this?" he said. "Did you not know I would come +to-night? I was at death's door last night, or I would have come as I +said. Did you do what you promised?" + +"Yes, sir, and waited a long time for you," said the man, doffing his +cap respectfully. "I even sent my son to look for you. He learned of +your bad condition, and then we were compelled to put the coffin back +in the ground again." + +There was a strange, repressed excitement in the man's manner, but +Mr. Chesleigh, absorbed in the bitterness of his own despair, did not +observe it. + +He counted over a hundred dollars into the man's hand, and then said, +with a tremor of hope in his voice: + +"I will double the amount if you will do your work over to-night. I +_must_ see her. I am mad for one last look at my darling's face!" + +The grave-digger shuddered. + +"Oh, sir, it is too late," he said. "Have you forgotten how soon +death's touch blasts everything human? And the little babe--_that_ was +dead long before _she_ was. I know you could not bear to see them now." + +"Hush, hush!" the mourner cried, in a voice of agony. "I will hear no +more. Go, now, and leave me!" + +"Cheer up, sir," said the man, with a strange gleam in his eyes, as he +turned to go. "The Lord may have some blessing in store for you yet, +sir." + +His only answer was a hollow groan from the wretched man. He threw +himself face downward on the green grave, crushing all the sweet lilies +and immortelles beneath his shuddering frame, and cried out to Heaven +to kill him because he had blighted Golden's innocent life. + +He lay there an hour or two, musing sorrowfully over the hapless fate +of his beautiful girl-bride. + +He recalled their brief, happy love-dream from which they had been so +rudely awakened. + +Over and over again he cursed himself for that first impulse of pride +and selfishness that had made him false to his bride in the hour when +he should have protected and shielded her. + +A passionate, despairing longing to see her again filled his soul. + +"I will go back and wander by the lake again," he resolved, in the +madness of his despair. "It was there that we spent our sweetest, most +blissful hours. In the calm and silence of the night I will dream them +over again." + +He went to the lake, but the very spirit of unrest was upon him. + +The stars came forth and shone weirdly in the sky, the perfume of +spring flowers sweetened the air. He grew restless and fanciful. + +Such a brief while ago she had stolen nightly from the haunted rooms to +meet him here beside the silvery lake. + +It almost seemed that she would come to him presently, gliding like a +fairy across the green lawn to the glad shelter of his arms. + +Some impulse prompted him to seek the haunted rooms, to spend an hour +of solitary musing in their quiet shade. + +He knew of a retired stairway by which he could make his way +unperceived, and following the blind fate that led him, he went up to +the hall and up the narrow, secluded stairs which little Golden had +shown him, and by which she had obtained egress to her lover. + +He went along the dark corridor with a strangely beating heart, and +paused before the closed door of the haunted room. + +He placed his hand on the knob, but to his surprise it refused to yield +to his touch. + +Disappointed, he was about turning away, when a heavy step crossed the +floor inside, the key clicked in the lock, and the door was cautiously +opened. + +A flood of light streamed out into the corridor, and showed Bertram +Chesleigh the tall form, and dark, saturnine face of John Glenalvan. + +There was a moment of complete astonishment on the part of each of the +two men. + +Both recoiled from each other in the first suddenness of the shock, and +then an angry oath burst from John Glenalvan's lips. + +"I thought it was Elinor!" + +"Luckily you were mistaken," returned Mr. Chesleigh, quickly recovering +his wits. "This _rencontre_ is most opportune for me, sir. I have +wished to see you." + +He stepped into the room as he spoke, and boldly confronted the +villain, who glared at him with a mixture of defiance and dismay. + +"You wished to see me. I feel flattered," he said, with an attempt at +cutting sarcasm. "May I ask why?" + +There was a moment's silence while Bertram Chesleigh rapidly reviewed +the situation in his mind. Then he spoke: + +"You may ask, and I may answer," he said. "Mr. Glenalvan, I might heap +the bitterest reproach upon your head, if by so doing the cruel work of +your life might be undone. But the past is past. My wife is dead, and +no reproaches and no lamentations can bring her back to me. But there +is one issue between you and me. I have taken up my dead wife's quest +where she left it. I demand that you shall tell me where to find my +little Golden's deeply-wronged mother." + +The dark face before him whitened to the awful pallor of death, the +man's eyes blazed luridly, his hands were clenched as they hung at his +sides. + +"What if I refuse to answer your question?" he inquired, in a low, +tense voice. + +"I will find means to force you to confession," Bertram Chesleigh +replied, unhesitatingly. + +"I defy you to do so," John Glenalvan replied, with an imprecation. "I +am not afraid of you." + +"You have caused my wife's death, and nearly murdered her father. I +will have you arrested for it," exclaimed Mr. Chesleigh. + +"Do so, and I will prove that I only acted in self-defense," was the +instant reply. + +"I will charge you with the murder or abduction of Golden Leith, your +own sister," pursued Mr. Chesleigh. + +"And I will swear before any court in the land that she is the inmate +of a nameless house in New York," was the taunting answer of the +villain. + +They gazed at each other a moment, then Bertram Chesleigh exclaimed, in +wonder: + +"What a black and unnatural heart you must have, John Glenalvan. How +can you thus malign the fair fame of your own sister?" + +"Do not call her my sister. I hated her, the blue-eyed, doll-faced +creature. She stole the love of my parents from me. It was all lavished +on her, there was none left for me. But I have had a most glorious +revenge," he laughed, wickedly. + +"Yes, you have had a most terrible revenge," said Bertram Chesleigh, +with a shudder. "You have blighted her life and that of her child. Four +lives--perhaps five--have been ruined by your sin. Is it not time that +vengeance should cease?" + +"No!" thundered John Glenalvan, harshly. "For sixteen years the taste +of revenge has been sweet on my lips. It is sweet still." + +"And you will not speak?" asked Bertram Chesleigh. + +"Never!" with triumphant malice. + +"I have one card yet to play," began the other, slowly. + +A light step suddenly crossed the threshold, and Elinor Glenalvan +appeared in the room, bearing a waiter with a substantial supper +arranged upon it. + +"Papa, were you growing impatient?" she asked; then her startled eyes +fell on Bertram Chesleigh, meeting a glance of fiery scorn. + +"_You here_!" she gasped. + +The waiter fell from her nerveless hands, and its contents crashed upon +the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +"Yes, Miss Glenalvan, it is I," was the answer, as his burning eyes +devoured her pale, frightened face. "Did you take me for a ghost?" + +"Why should I take you for a ghost?" she faltered, trembling, but +trying to brave it out with an air of defiance. + +"Because you tried to murder me last night, and came very near +succeeding," he replied. + +"It is false. How dare you accuse me of such a crime?" she broke out, +passionately, flying to her father's side, as if for protection. + +"How dare you?" echoed John Glenalvan, furiously. + +Bertram Chesleigh lifted his hand imperiously. + +"Listen," he said, "I told you I had one more card to play. Your fair +daughter there attempted to poison me last night with drugged wine. +The physician who saved my life declared that I had taken arsenic in a +draught of wine. Do you see where you stand _now_?" + +"Do not believe him, father; it is false!" cried Elinor, furiously; but +John Glenalvan, turning to look into her wild, frightened face, read +the signs of guilt too plainly to be mistaken. + +The sight forced a groan even from his hardened lips. + +"You see where you stand," repeated Bertram Chesleigh, with stern +brevity. "How will you bear to see your cherished daughter dragged into +court on such a dreadful charge?" + +"You will not dare do such a thing," Elinor flashed out, quivering with +rage. + +"That will be as your father says," was the firm reply. "If it pleases +him to reveal the secret of Golden Leith's fate, I'll spare you and +him; if not, you need expect no mercy from me." + +The grim _ultimatum_ was spoken. Elinor and her father knew by that +flashing eye and stern-set lip that there was no appeal from the +calmly-spoken decision. + +"Coward, to threaten a girl," she cried, taking refuge in vituperation +now that denial had failed. + +But Mr. Chesleigh regarded them in silent scorn, and her father sternly +silenced her. He was furious with wrath, and it seemed to him that not +even for his daughter's sake could he forego his dear revenge. + +"Elinor," he said, with a dark frown, "if indeed you have done this +thing you must prepare to face the consequences. I will not accede to +his demand. Nothing shall balk me of my revenge." + +Abject terror and despair filled Elinor's soul at those threatening +words. She knew too well how guilty she was. She was filled with terror +at the too probable punishment of her wickedness. + +Falling on her knees, she caught her father's hand in hers, and bathed +them with her frightened tears. + +"Oh, father, do not sacrifice me to your revenge," she cried, wildly. +"Remember that I am your own child. I should be dearer to you than your +revenge. Oh! for mercy's sake, make terms with the wretch, and save me +from his wicked vengeance." + +Mr. Chesleigh did not even notice her. He stood with folded arms and +curling lips awaiting his enemy's reply. + +The sullen determination on John Glenalvan's face softened as she +continued her anxious pleading. + +"Father, I cannot live if that wretched story becomes known," she +wailed. "If you do not save me I shall drown myself." + +A slight shudder convulsed his frame at the words. He looked down at +the frightened, tear-wet face. + +"Elinor," he said, "if I have to sacrifice my revenge for your sake, I +shall hate you every moment of your future life." + +"Anything but exposure," she wailed. "Oh, father, save me." + +His dark brow lowered like a thunder cloud. + +"So be it," he said, "but, mark me, girl, I shall hate you forever +after." + +"Then you will speak?" Bertram Chesleigh cried, gladly. + +John Glenalvan hesitated a moment, then answered, gloomily: + +"Yes, to save that wretched girl I will reveal the secret that has been +locked in my breast for sixteen years." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +There was a moment's silence, then Bertram Chesleigh said, quickly: + +"Come with me, Mr. Glenalvan. Let the secret you have kept so long be +revealed in the hearing of your father and Richard Leith." + +The guilty man recoiled from the demand. He said, hoarsely: + +"I refuse to do so. I will reveal it to you, and you may bear the news +yourself to them." + +Bertram Chesleigh considered the reply a moment, then answered, firmly. + +"I prefer that they should hear it from your own lips." + +John Glenalvan regarded him with furious eyes. + +"You wish to humble me all you can," he said. + +"Not so," replied Mr. Chesleigh. "But I consider that they have too +decided a right to hear your confession, for me to exclude them from +this momentous interview." + +The angry man regarded him silently a moment, then said, with a sigh of +baffled rage: + +"So be it. I am not now in a position to dictate terms, and must obey +your will. You swear to keep Elinor's secret if I do this thing?" + +"Yes," Bertram answered. + +"I am ready to accompany you, then. Elinor," he turned a furious gaze +on his daughter who was weeping nervously near the door; "go to your +mother, now. Tell her that you have ruined all my plans, and that I +forever curse the hour in which you were born." + +She turned away, casting one last look of fiery anger and hatred on the +man she had tried to murder, and left the room. + +The two men went down together to Richard Leith's room. The lawyer was +sitting up in an easy-chair, talking to old Hugh Glenalvan who occupied +a chair near the window. + +They both looked up in surprise at the unexpected sight of John +Glenalvan, whom they had supposed to be far away in hiding somewhere. + +Bertram spoke at once, quietly: + +"You will pardon this late intrusion, Mr. Glenalvan. This gentleman has +an important communication to make to you, and I ventured to bring him +at once." + +"A communication?" faltered the old man, looking blankly at his son. + +"Yes," answered Mr. Chesleigh, with the flush of joyful triumph on +his handsome face. "He will solve for you the strange mystery of your +daughter's disappearance, sixteen years ago." + +A cry came from Richard Leith's white lips. The old man echoed it +feebly, as he rose and went to his son, but John waved him rudely back. + +"Do not come near me," he said, harshly; "I have always hated you +because you loved my sister best." + +"I could not help it, John. She was more lovable than you," the father +faltered, feebly. + +"And so she stole your love from me and earned my hate. But I have had +a great revenge," said the relentless wretch, grimly. + +"Oh, John, John!" + +The wailing cry came from the old man's lips; he looked at his son in +surprise and horror. + +"Yes, revenge," repeated John Glenalvan, seeming to take a malicious +pride in his wickedness now that its revelation was forced upon him. +"I hated her, and when my opportunity came, I seized upon it. I knew +she was a wife, yet it was my hand that sent her that lying letter that +made her leave her husband." + +"Devil!" Richard Leith muttered, making an effort to spring upon him, +but Bertram Chesleigh held him back, and the villain who had so wronged +him laughed mockingly. + +"She came home," he went on, after a minute, "came home, and her child +was born. The following night came her mysterious disappearance which +I accounted for by declaring that she had returned to her deceiver, +unable to exist away from him." + +All eyes were fixed on his dark, demoniac face as he proceeded. Every +heart hung trembling on his further words. + +At last the fearful mystery of little Golden's fate would be known to +those who loved and mourned her. + +Old Dinah had stolen silently in, and sat crouching in a corner, her +beady, black eyes fixed intently on the face of the man whom she had +always distrusted. + +"Speak," Richard Leith thundered, almost mad with impatience. "Speak! +You know she never came to me. Where is she now, my poor, wronged +darling?" + +"Is she dead or living?" echoed the wronged woman's father. + +"_She is dead_!" John Glenalvan answered, coldly. + +"Dead!" they echoed, despairingly. + +"She has been dead these sixteen years," he answered. + +"Vile wretch, then you murdered her," cried Richard Leith, struggling +frantically in Bertram Chesleigh's strong hold. + +The villain laughed heartlessly. + +"Not so," he replied. "I hated her, but I would not have risked hanging +for her sake. It was no fault of mine that she came to her death so +tragically." + +"Dead and buried these sixteen years," old Hugh moaned, wringing his +feeble hands, and weeping as if the bereavement were but of yesterday. +"John, tell me where to find my darling's grave." + +"_She lies in the bottom of the lake_!" he replied, and those who +watched him saw him shudder and turn pale for the first time. + +"How came she there?" broke out Bertram Chesleigh. + +"My sister was a somnambulist, Mr. Chesleigh. You will not deny that +fact, father. She wandered from the house in her sleep, and walked +deliberately into the lake." + +"You saw her?" + +"Yes, I was the only witness to the tragic deed," he replied, and again +they saw a shudder shake his strong frame, and the chill dew beaded his +forehead. + +"Devil, you lie! You pushed her in!" cried Richard Leith, wild with +rage and grief. + +"Did you, John? Oh, tell me the truth," moaned his father. + +"No, I did not, as there is a Heaven that hears me. I hated Golden +because you and my mother loved her best, and because half of your +property would go to her, but the thought of murder had not entered my +head. I was out late that night, and returning with my mind full of +envious thoughts toward my sister, I saw her crossing the moonlighted +lawn, and on coming nearer saw that she was asleep. Keeping near to +her, I followed her down to the lake, and she walked on straight, +without pause or backward glance, into the water." + +"And you put out no hand to save her--murderer!" cried Bertram +Chesleigh, in terrific scorn. + +"I did not know what she would do until all was over," he replied. + +"You might have saved her even then," Bertram Chesleigh said. + +"Yes, I might, but I hated her, and the devil whispered to me that this +was my opportunity, so I watched the water close over her head, and +then I walked away," he replied. + +"Oh, my God, is de vengeance ob Hebben asleep dat such debbils roam de +yerth?" wailed old Dinah. + +They echoed her cry. Surely the vengeance of Heaven slumbered that such +demons walked the earth unsmitten. + +"Then temptation entered my soul," he continued. "I did not think it +was right for Golden's child to inherit her share of the property when +I needed it so much for my own growing family. So I fabricated that +slander, and eventually forced my father to make over the remnant of +the Glenalvans' possessions to me, and I transferred my hatred from +Golden to her child. Now you know all." + +Old Hugh pointed to the door with a shaking finger. + +"Go, now, before I call down the terrible vengeance of God on your +guilty head!" he cried. "Go, and leave me to weep for my murdered +darling!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +The next day men were set to work to drag the lake for Golden Leith's +body. + +A poor, bleached skeleton, partially petrified by the action of the +water, and therefore in a good state of preservation, was all they +found. + +The broad, gold band of a wedding-ring still clung to the fleshless +finger, and the name within was all that remained to assure them that +this was she whom they sought--the hapless girl whose bright life had +been blasted by a brother's sin, and whose name had been covered with +ignominy and shame for sixteen years. + +They placed the precious remains in a coffin, and prepared to give them +Christian burial the next day. + +All night and all day it stood on trestles in Hugh Glenalvan's +sitting-room, with mourners at head and foot--the husband and father, +so tragically bereaved of their darling, sat there dumb and tearless +in their great affliction, and old Dinah stole in and out, with the +corner of her apron pressed to her streaming eyes, her old black face +convulsed with grief. + +Only a few days ago the daughter's coffin had stood there where the +mother's rested now. + +Both her nurslings were gone, and the faithful, old creature's heart +was almost broken. + +Throughout the night and day not a member of John Glenalvan's family +was visible. The curtains remained drawn at the windows, the doors +closed, there was no sign of life within the house. + +The time came when poor little Golden's remains were to be consigned to +the kindly shelter of the grave. + +It was a beautiful evening about the first of March. The grass was blue +with violets, the birds twittered softly in the orange and magnolia +trees, the sun shone brightly as it slowly declined in the western sky; +Dinah had been in and deposited some beautiful wreaths of flowers upon +the bier. + +The friends who had loved the dead woman long ago had come to know her +mournful fate at last, and had sent these sweet testimonials of their +sympathy and grief. + +They were waiting in the graveyard to pay the last outward tokens of +respect to the lost one, but they would not venture to the house to +intrude on the privacy of the bereaved ones. + +So the gentle minister came and told them that they must bid a last +farewell to the loved one, and Bertram Chesleigh stood ready to support +the still feeble footsteps of Richard Leith with his strong young arm. + +"Oh, my daughter, my daughter, how cruelly God has afflicted me," +moaned the bereaved father, laying his white head down upon the +coffin-lid, while the first heavy tears splashed down his cheeks. + +"Do not arraign your Maker. Rather thank Him that your child has +at last been proven pure and innocent," said the minister, to whom +Golden's whole history was known. + +"Thank God," Bertram Chesleigh uttered fervently, then, with a sigh +that was almost a sob, he added: "Ah, if only my wife had lived to see +this day!" + +"She lives--she is here!" said a low, clear voice in the doorway. + +All looked around, startled. Two figures were entering the room. Both +were clothed in deep mourning. + +One was Gertrude Leith, pale and grave-looking, the other was alight, +and deeply veiled. She clung to Mrs. Leith's arm tremblingly. They +crossed the floor and stood by that long, dark, solemn object that +occupied the center of the room. Mrs. Leith raised her companion's veil. + +All started and uttered a cry of incredulous surprise. + +Little Golden's daughter, pallid, beautiful, tearful, was standing +there, looking at them across her mother's coffin. + +"Thank God!" she said, in her sweet, clear voice, with a sound of tears +in its sweetness. "Thank God, my mother was pure and innocent! The +dream of my life-time is fulfilled at last." + +"Does the grave give up its dead?" they cried, and Bertram Chesleigh +went to her side and touched her white hand, half-fearfully. + +"My wife," he said. + +"Yes, your wife," she answered, lifting her violet eyes to his face +with such deep reproach in their tragic depths, that he was awed into +momentary silence. + +Then she turned from him, and went to her grandfather, who was gazing +at her with dazed eyes full of grief and dread. She put her arms around +his neck, and kissed his poor, withered cheek with her sweet, quivering +lips. + +"Grandpa, you must not take me for a ghost," she said. "It is your own +little Golden come back to live and love you again. I was not dead, +after all. Did I not tell you I could not die yet? But I cannot tell +you all the story of my rescue from the grave now. Let us give all our +thoughts to our martyred dead." + +She looked up and saw her father and old Dinah waiting to greet her. + +It was a strange scene beside that flower-wreathed coffin. + +There was passionate joy over the living girl, and bitter sorrow over +the dead. + +Mrs. Leith had beckoned Bertram Chesleigh away. Behind the heavy +hangings of the bay-window she said to him, gently: + +"Do not press your wife yet, Mr. Chesleigh. Remember you have wronged +her deeply, and she does not yet know how you have repented and atoned." + +"I can never atone," he said, heavily. + +"Perhaps she may think differently when she knows all," said Mrs. +Leith. "Women are very tender and forgiving, you know." + +"If she never speaks to me again, I shall still rejoice that she is +living," he said, with a beam of gladness in his large, black eyes. + +"Do you wonder how she was saved?" she inquired. + +"Yes." + +"I will tell you, then, briefly," she answered. "You remember how you +bribed the grave-digger to open her coffin for you that night?" + +"Yes, and then I was too ill to keep my appointment," he answered. + +"That wild fancy of yours was the means of her rescue," said Mrs. +Leith. "When the man opened the coffin to be in readiness for you, +he discovered slight signs of life in Golden. Growing alarmed and +impatient at your tardiness, he sent his son to look for you, and the +youth encountered me. I went with him, and we removed her to the man's +little cottage near by. Little by little we fed the signs of reviving +life, and you see the result." + +"For which I bless and thank you forever," he said, kissing her hand +respectfully. + +"I have but little more to say," she went on, smiling a little sadly, +"and it is this: Golden is very weak and exhausted yet. She is not +strong enough to bear the excitement of her mother's burial. I will +remain here with her while they are bearing Mrs. Leith to the grave, +and I will tell her your whole story. She shall hear how you came back +here to seek her in two days after your ill-considered desertion of +her, and found her gone. I will tell her how nobly you vindicated her +honor beside her grave. She shall know that you forced John Glenalvan +to reveal the hidden story of her mother's fate. When you come back I +think she cannot fail to forgive you." + +"You will do all this for me?" he said, with a strange moisture in his +eyes. "I cannot thank you sufficiently. You are an angel." + +"No, only a very faulty and sad-hearted woman," she replied, with a +pensive sigh, and then they went back to the mourners. + +She kept her promise nobly. While they bore the poor remains of Richard +Leith's first wife to the grave, his second wife sat with his daughter +and tried to turn the swelling current of her grief by relating the +story of Bertram Chesleigh's repentance and atonement. + +"Golden, if you could have heard his noble vindication of your honor +beside your grave; how proudly he claimed you for his wife, and your +child for his own, you could not fail to pity and forgive him for +the one great error into which he was led by his own pride and John +Glenalvan's evil counsel." + +"I have suffered so much through his fault," said the wronged wife, +with mournful pathos. + +"Yes, dear, but you must show your own nobility of soul now," said the +step-mother, gently. "You must remember: + + "'To err is human, + To forgive divine.'" + +The beautiful, pale face grew very grave and troubled. + +"If only I could forget his cruelty," she said. "Ah, my friend, I was +hurt so cruelly by that letter he sent me! I trusted him so fully. I +believed in his truth as I believed in my God. I was almost maddened by +the suddenness of my sorrow. Every word is branded upon my memory. See! +I can repeat every sentence: + +"'Though it almost kills me to forsake you, Golden, I must go away. The +disgrace of your birth is so terrible that I can never claim you for +my wife. Pride and honor alike forbid it. You must see for yourself, +poor child, that your terrible misfortune has wholly set you apart from +the world, and as you have sworn to keep our private marriage a secret +until I give you leave to reveal it, I must beg you to hold the story +unspoken in your breast forever.'" + +She paused and looked at Mrs. Leith with a whole tragedy of sorrow in +her violet orbs. + +"Were they not cruel words to write to his own wife?" she said +pathetically. "But I obeyed him. Through all the shame and sorrow +that came afterward I kept my promise. Do you think I did not suffer +more than death in keeping it? When Mrs. Desmond drove me out in such +terrible disgrace do you think I did not long to say to her: I am as +good and pure as you are; I am your brother's wife! And what did I not +suffer when I knew she was separated from her husband on my account? +Then when my own father disowned and despised me, how my heart ached to +answer, I am Bertram Chesleigh's own wife! Oh, Gertrude, is it right +and just that I should forgive him for all that I have suffered and +made others suffer for his sake?" + +"Yes, dear, because his repentance was so quick and his remorse so +deep," said the gentle monitor. "You must remember, Golden, that if you +had not gone away that night you would have escaped all that suffering; +your husband returned in twenty-four hours to claim you, and John +Glenalvan told him that you had gone away with the deliberate intention +of leading a sinful life. Do you wonder that it threw him on a bed of +sickness that almost cost him his life? You must forgive him and love +him again, dear, because he is so penitent and devoted now." + +And when the mourners returned from that sad funeral, Mrs. Leith sent +him in to his wronged wife. + +He knelt down before the pale, golden-haired girl, and begged her to +forgive him, not that he deserved it, but because he loved her so +dearly. + +With the meek tenderness of woman, she forgave him and there was peace +between them. + +Several hours later he had led her out to old Hugh Glenalvan who was +dozing sadly in his easy-chair. + +"Mr. Glenalvan," he said, "you see my darling has risen from the grave +to forgive me. Will you keep the promise you made, and forgive me too?" + +"Yes, grandpa, you must forgive him, for I love him dearly," said +little Golden. + +So the old man forgave him, and solemnly blessed them as they knelt +before him, one withered hand resting kindly on the dark, bowed head, +and the other on the golden one. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +Gertrude Leith having done what she could for the happiness of others, +prepared to take her own departure. + +"You will not leave us, my dear, true friend, my second mother," Golden +exclaimed, as she came in veiled and bonneted, to bid her good-bye. + +"Yes, dear, it will be better for a time, at least, that I should go +away. I shall return north and go back to those quiet quarters in +Brooklyn, where you and I spent those peaceful weeks before we came +south. When you come to New York with your husband you will find me +there." + +"I will certainly seek you out," Golden replied. "But surely you do not +intend to forsake my father. The doubt and perplexity are all over now. +You know that you are legally his wife, my own mother being dead before +he ever knew you." + +"Yes, I know, dear," she answered, gently. "Yet it is best I should +go away for a time. Your father must have time for his grief. After +awhile, if he desires it, I may return to him." + +Her words were too full of wisdom for anyone to gainsay them, so she +went away. + +Richard Leith's grief and remorse over his lost little Golden was as +deep and passionate as if she had died yesterday instead of more than +sixteen years ago. + +He was too sorrowful to remember the fair woman he had put in the dead +wife's place in the vain hope of stilling the fever and pain that had +ached ceaselessly at his heart for sixteen years. + +The time came later on when the first wife's memory became a sweet +and chastened dream to him, and his second wife's new loveliness of +character won its place in his heart. + +Some years of quiet happiness and mutual love came to them after +they learned to know each other better, but there was no year in +which Richard Leith did not return south once, at least, to spend a +few solemn hours by the low grave under the whispering cedars and +broad-leaved magnolias, where the broken marble shaft bore the fond +inscription: + + "IN LOVING MEMORY OF GOLDEN, + + WIFE OF RICHARD LEITH." + +There was one other to whom that green grave became like a shrine, a +holy Mecca, to which his poor, faltering footsteps were daily bent. + +It was old Hugh Glenalvan, whom old Dinah daily guided to the sacred +spot, where he would sit for hours, his gray locks fluttering in the +gentle breeze, meditating, or perhaps holding spirit communion with the +sainted dead. + +It was discovered on the day of Golden Leith's burial that John +Glenalvan and his whole family had secretly left the house the night +previous. + +A week later a letter came from the villain to Bertram Chesleigh, +offering to sell Glenalvan Hall on fair terms, and stating that he +should never live in the south again. + +A bargain was closed at once, and Bertram Chesleigh became the +possessor of the old hall, which was speedily repaired and remodeled +under the supervision of himself and his lovely young wife. + +Before the work was completed a chance newspaper chronicled the fact of +a distressing railway accident and among the list of killed appeared +the name of John Glenalvan. + +Bertram and Golden destroyed the newspaper, and old Hugh never knew +that his wicked son had gone suddenly and without preparation into the +presence of his august Maker. + +The old man's life flowed on in sweet serenity. All his happiness was +centered in the living Golden, and beside the grave of the dead one. + +While he lived, Golden and her husband made their home at Glenalvan +Hall, but after several years of quiet peace the white soul of the +noble old man took on the wings of immortality, and soared to its +Heavenly home through the open gates of the sunset. + +They made him a grave by his daughter's side, and when the grass was +growing green upon his grave they took old Dinah with them and turned +their faces northward. + +Black mammy had become reconciled to Mr. Chesleigh when she saw how +happy he made her little missie. Her kind and wrinkled old visage +reflected the radiant happiness that shone on Golden's beautiful face. + +She waited on her kindly and devotedly as ever, declaring that no +starched-up French maid should ever take her place while she lived, and +Golden, with a shuddering remembrance of the wicked Celine's treachery, +always assured her "old mammy" that she need never fear such an +intruder on her privileges. + +The day came when one of the most beautiful and palatial homes in New +York opened wide its doors to receive Bertram Chesleigh's fair wife as +its honored mistress. + +Though Golden had seen some of the stately homes of New York she was +astonished at the luxury and magnificence of her own. + +Mr. Chesleigh smiled indulgently at her pretty, childish delight as +he led her through suite after suite of the sumptuous, luxurious +apartments the day after their arrival. + +"I am glad you are so pleased with your new home," he said, "but now, +my darling, you must run away and let black mammy dress you. I have +invited a few guests to dinner." + +"Strangers?" she asked, with a shy pretty blush on the exquisite face +that was fresh and sweet as a rosebud with only that pensive droop of +the golden-brown lashes to hint at the sorrow through which she had +passed. + +"Not exactly,'" he replied with a smile. "Lawyer Leith and his wife, +Mr. and Mrs. Desmond, and little Ruby. I think you will be glad to see +her, though she must have tyrannized over you dreadfully in the old +days." + +"A dear little tyrant she was," laughed Mrs. Chesleigh. "I shall be +very pleased to see her again." + +She went to her dressing-room, and a loving remembrance of some things +the child had said to her once, caused her to choose a lovely dress +of white and blue, with large, gleaming white pearls for her neck and +wrists, and knots of fragrance-breathing violets fastened among her +creamy laces. + +Bertram uttered a cry of delight when she came to him in the +drawing-room in the beautiful dress with the golden curls framing the +perfect face in a halo of light. + +She looked beyond him and saw her father and his wife gazing at her +with eyes full of love and wonder, and she sprang joyfully to their +embrace. + +Mrs. Leith released her after some low-murmured words of love and +praise, and she saw her husband's sister by her side. + +Mrs. Desmond had grown more brilliantly lovely than ever. Happiness and +contentment had lent new radiance to the lovely face, but there was a +wistful air, almost amounting to humility, about her as she extended +her jeweled hand, and said, sweetly: + +"My dear little sister, can you ever forgive me?" + +"Freely," she said, clasping the offered hand, and proffering the kiss +of peace. + +"And me, too--I am deeply repentant," said a low voice beside Mrs. +Desmond, and looking up, Golden saw Mr. Desmond, debonairly handsome +as ever, but so humble and ashamed that even a harder heart than our +little Golden's must have pardoned his folly. + +Then Ruby took possession of her and gave her a bear-like hug. + +"Oh, you darling," she cried, "I have missed you so much, and to think +you were Uncle Bert's wife all the while. It is just like one of +mamma's novels that she is always reading. I warn you, Uncle Bert, that +I shall make you jealous, I shall stay with her so much. And I do so +want to see that dear old black mammy I have heard about." + +Her childish curiosity was gratified, and the New York child, after her +first surprise, grew very fond of the good-natured, old negress who had +been Golden's nurse from babyhood up. + +"I do not have a nurse any more," she confided to Golden. "They have +hired a governess for me, and I like to study. It improves my temper." + +"Which was never very bad," smiled Golden, kissing the pretty little +brunette. + +"When you go into society you will be surprised to meet Elinor +Glenalvan again," Mrs. Desmond said to her after awhile. "She has +picked up a rich, old man somewhere, and is Mrs. Langley now. Six +months ago she burst upon society in a blaze of glory, and at present +she is considered the handsomest woman in New York. But her star will +fade when you are introduced to the social world." + +Soon afterward the two cousins met at a brilliant reception. Both +looked their best, Elinor in Ruby velvet and diamonds, Golden in +misty, white lace and pearls, Elinor just touched with the tips of her +fingers the arm of her decrepit old spouse, Golden clung lovingly to +her princely-looking and devoted husband. As they passed each other +Mrs. Langley cast one look of bitter hatred and envy upon her fair, +angelic-looking rival. + +It was as Mrs. Desmond had predicted. Elinor's star paled before the +superior loveliness of Golden, and in bitter anger and chagrin, the +eclipsed beauty retired from the field, and removed to a distant city, +where she was seen and heard of no more by those who had formerly known +her. + +Little Golden was glad when her enemy was gone, but she felt no vanity +over her brilliant social successes. Her chief joy and pride was that +she reigned queen over her husband's adoring heart. + + + + + * * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + + +This story was originally serialized in the _Family Story Paper_, where +it ran from June 5, 1882 to September 4, 1882. This e-text is derived +from a later reprint as No. 218 in _The Favorite Library_ published by +The American News Company. The reprint edition also included two filler +short stories: "A Mock Idyl" by Percy Ross and "Farewell" by W. H. +Stacpoole. The filler stories are not included here. + +A table of contents was added for the convenience of the reader. + +Some inconsistent punctuation was retained (e.g. "Life Time" vs. +"Life-Time" in title; "upturned" vs. "up-turned"). + +Some inconsistently italicized text was retained (e.g. "rencontre"). + +Some unusual spellings were retained (e.g. "exhult," "ballustrade"). + +Accent marks to match original were omitted (e.g. "protege"). + +Italics are represented with _underscores_. + +Page 3, changed "herelf" to "herself." + +Page 4, changed "to hasty" to "too hasty." + +Page 6, added missing quote before "Oh, grandpa." + +Page 13, changed "strangly" to "strangely." + +Page 17, changed "recounter" to "rencontre." + +Page 22, changed "neverspeak" to "never speak." + +Page 24, changed "aughs" to "laughs." + +Page 27, added comma after "Oh, my darlin'." + +Page 29, changed "founding" to "foundling" and changed ? to ! after +"the girl is my niece." + +Page 31, changed "furthur intercouse" to "further intercourse." + +Page 37, changed "matin" to "mating." + +Page 38, added missing quote after "Jest wait one minute, darlin'." + +Page 42, changed "struggled" to "straggled." + +Page 48, changed "greatsest" to "greatest." + +Page 54, added missing quote before "He likes pretty faces." + +Page 55, changed "flirted" to "flitted." + +Page 56, changed "you hair" to "your hair." + +Page 60, changed "must not thing" to "must not think." + +Page 61, changed "significent" to "significant." + +Page 66, changed "thoughfully" to "thoughtfully." + +Page 75, removed extra "the" from "It is the the truth." + +Page 80, changed "Your know" to "You know" and "father as" to "father +has." + +Page 83, changed "distress" to "mistress." + +Page 84, changed ? to ! in "you are mistaken!" + +Page 85, added missing quote before "Go, and take." + +Page 87, changed "her her husband" to "her husband." + +Page 91, changed "idendity" to "identity," "Lieth" to "Leith," +"Bestram" to "Bertram," "maked" to "marked" and "cousse" to "course." + +Page 97, changed "cempetence" to "competence." + +Page 101, changed "gazedw onderingly" to "gazed wonderingly." + +Page 102, changed "perference" to "preference," "you wife" to "your +wife," and "guilty of his" to "guilty of this." + +Page 104, changed "delerious" to "delirious." + +Page 106, added missing open quote before "I wonder how." + +Page 107, changed "bess" to "bless." + +Page 110, changed "prostate" to "prostrate." + +Page 111, added missing quote before "I _know_." + +Page 112, changed "Lieth's" to "Leith's," "Lieth" to "Leith" and +"idict" to "indict." + +Page 113, changed "as last" to "at last." + +Page 116, adding missing comma after "for God's sake" and changed +"unable so bear" to "unable to bear." + +Page 117, added missing quote after "seen her even once." + +Page 118, changed "requim" to "requiem." + +Page 120, added missing quote after "absent for several days." + +Page 124, changed "Lieth" and "Keith" to "Leith." + +Page 127, changed "queit" to "quiet." + +Page 128, changed "No?" to "No!" + +Page 129, changed "belive" to "believe." + +Page 130, changed "hated" to "hatred." + +Page 139, changed "uncle Bert" to "Uncle Bert." + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44803 *** |