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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75137-0.txt b/75137-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c945050 --- /dev/null +++ b/75137-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10950 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75137 *** + + + + + + _NEW BERTHA CLAY LIBRARY No. 300_ + + SUFFERED + IN VAIN + _By + BERTHA + M. CLAY_ + + _STREET & SMITH CORPORATION + PUBLISHERS ~ NEW YORK_ + + [Illustration] + + + + +A FAVORITE OF MILLIONS + +New Bertha Clay Library + +ALL BY BERTHA M. CLAY + +Love Stories with Plenty of Action + +The Author Needs No Introduction + +Countless millions of women have enjoyed the works of this author. They +are in great demand everywhere. The following list contains her best +work, and is the only authorized edition. + +These stories teem with action, and what is more desirable, they are +clean from start to finish. They are love stories, but are of a type +that is wholesome and totally different from the cheap, sordid fiction +that is being published by unscrupulous publishers. + +There is a surprising variety about Miss Clay’s work. Each book in this +list is sure to give satisfaction. + + +_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_ + + 1--In Love’s Crucible + 2--A Sinful Secret + 3--Between Two Loves + 4--A Golden Heart + 5--Redeemed by Love + 6--Between Two Hearts + 7--Lover and Husband + 8--The Broken Trust + 9--For a Woman’s Honor + 10--A Thorn in Her Heart + 11--A Nameless Sin + 12--Gladys Greye + 13--Her Second Love + 14--The Earl’s Atonement + 15--The Gypsy’s Daughter + 16--Another Woman’s Husband + 17--Two Fair Women + 18--Madolin’s Lover + 19--A Bitter Reckoning + 20--Fair But Faithless + 21--One Woman’s Sin + 22--A Mad Love + 23--Wedded and Parted + 24--A Woman’s Love Story + 25--’Twixt Love and Hate + 26--Guelda + 27--The Duke’s Secret + 28--The Mystery of Colde Fell + 29--Beyond Pardon + 30--A Hidden Terror + 31--Repented at Leisure + 32--Marjorie Deane + 33--In Shallow Waters + 34--Diana’s Discipline + 35--A Heart’s Bitterness + 36--Her Mother’s Sin + 37--Thrown on the World + 38--Lady Damer’s Secret + 39--A Fiery Ordeal + 40--A Woman’s Vengeance + 41--Thorns and Orange Blossoms + 42--Two Kisses and the Fatal Lilies + 43--A Coquette’s Conquest + 44--A Wife’s Judgment + 45--His Perfect Trust + 46--Her Martyrdom + 47--Golden Gates + 48--Evelyn’s Folly + 49--Lord Lisle’s Daughter + 50--A Woman’s Trust + 51--A Wife’s Peril + 52--Love in a Mask + 53--For a Dream’s Sake + 54--A Dream of Love + 55--The Hand Without a Wedding Ring + 56--The Paths of Love + 57--Irene’s Vow + 58--The Rival Heiresses + 59--The Squire’s Darling + 60--Her First Love + 61--Another Man’s Wife + 62--A Bitter Atonement + 63--Wedded Hands + 64--The Earl’s Error and Letty Leigh + 65--Violet Lisle + 66--A Heart’s Idol + 67--The Actor’s Ward + 68--The Belle of Lynn + 69--A Bitter Bondage + 70--Dora Thorne + 71--Claribel’s Love Story + 72--A Woman’s War + 73--A Fatal Dower + 74--A Dark Marriage Morn + 75--Hilda’s Lover + 76--One Against Many + 77--For Another’s Sin + 78--At War with Herself + 79--A Haunted Life + 80--Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce + 81--Wife in Name Only + 82--The Sin of a Lifetime + 83--The World Between Them + 84--Prince Charlie’s Daughter + 85--A Struggle for a Ring + 86--The Shadow of a Sin + 87--A Rose in Thorns + 88--The Romance of the Black Veil + 89--Lord Lynne’s Choice + 90--The Tragedy of Lime Hall + 91--James Gordon’s Wife + 92--Set in Diamonds + 93--For Life and Love + 94--How Will It End? + 95--Love’s Warfare + 96--The Burden of a Secret + 97--Griselda + 98--A Woman’s Witchery + 99--An Ideal Love + 100--Lady Marchmont’s Widowhood + 101--The Romance of a Young Girl + 102--The Price of a Bride + 103--If Love Be Love + 104--Queen of the County + 105--Lady Ethel’s Whim + 106--Weaker than a Woman + 107--A Woman’s Temptation + 108--On Her Wedding Morn + 109--A Struggle for the Right + 110--Margery Daw + 111--The Sins of the Father + 112--A Dead Heart + 113--Under a Shadow + 114--Dream Faces + 115--Lord Elesmere’s Wife + 116--Blossom and Fruit + 117--Lady Muriel’s Secret + 118--A Loving Maid + 119--Hilary’s Folly + 120--Beauty’s Marriage + 121--Lady Gwendoline’s Dream + 122--A Story of an Error + 123--The Hidden Sin + 124--Society’s Verdict + 125--The Bride from the Sea and Other Stories + 126--A Heart of Gold + 127--Addie’s Husband and Other Stories + 128--Lady Latimer’s Escape + 129--A Woman’s Error + 130--A Loveless Engagement + 131--A Queen Triumphant + 132--The Girl of His Heart + 133--The Chains of Jealousy + 134--A Heart’s Worship + 135--The Price of Love + 136--A Misguided Love + 137--A Wife’s Devotion + 138--When Love and Hate Conflict + 139--A Captive Heart + 140--A Pilgrim of Love + 141--A Purchased Love + 142--Lost for Love + 143--The Queen of His Soul + 144--Gladys’ Wedding Day + 145--An Untold Passion + 146--His Great Temptation + 147--A Fateful Passion + 148--The Sunshine of His Life + 149--On with the New Love + 150--An Evil Heart + 151--Love’s Redemption + 152--The Love of Lady Aurelia + 153--The Lost Lady of Haddon + 154--Every Inch a Queen + 155--A Maid’s Misery + 156--A Stolen Heart + 157--His Wedded Wife + 158--Lady Ona’s Sin + 159--A Tragedy of Love and Hate + 160--The White Witch + 161--Between Love and Ambition + 162--True Love’s Reward + 163--The Gambler’s Wife + 164--An Ocean of Love + 165--A Poisoned Heart + 166--For Love of Her + 167--Paying the Penalty + 168--Her Honored Name + 169--A Deceptive Lover + 170--The Old Love or New? + 171--A Coquette’s Victim + 172--The Wooing of a Maid + 173--A Bitter Courtship + 174--Love’s Debt + 175--Her Beautiful Foe + 176--A Happy Conquest + 177--A Soul Ensnared + 178--Beyond All Dreams + 179--At Her Heart’s Command + 180--A Modest Passion + 181--The Flower of Love + 182--Love’s Twilight + 183--Enchained by Passion + 184--When Woman Wills + 185--Where Love Leads + 186--A Blighted Blossom + 187--Two Men and a Maid + 188--When Love Is Kind + 189--Withered Flowers + 190--The Unbroken Vow + 191--The Love He Spurned + 192--Her Heart’s Hero + 193--For Old Love’s Sake + 194--Fair as a Lily + 195--Tender and True + 196--What It Cost Her + 197--Love Forevermore + 198--Can This Be Love? + 199--In Spite of Fate + 200--Love’s Coronet + 201--Dearer Than Life + 202--Baffled by Fate + 203--The Love that Won + 204--In Defiance of Fate + 205--A Vixen’s Love + 206--Her Bitter Sorrow + 207--By Love’s Order + 208--The Secret of Estcourt + 209--Her Heart’s Surrender + 210--Lady Viola’s Secret + 211--Strong in Her Love + 212--Tempted to Forget + 213--With Love’s Strong Bonds + 214--Love, the Avenger + 215--Under Cupid’s Seal + 216--The Love that Blinds + 217--Love’s Crown Jewel + 218--Wedded at Dawn + 219--For Her Heart’s Sake + 220--Fettered for Life + 221--Beyond the Shadow + 222--A Heart Forlorn + 223--The Bride of the Manor + 224--For Lack of Gold + 225--Sweeter than Life + 226--Loved and Lost + 227--The Tie that Binds + 228--Answered in Jest + 229--What the World Said + 230--When Hot Tears Flow + 231--In a Siren’s Web + 232--With Love at the Helm + 233--The Wiles of Love + 234--Sinner or Victim? + 235--When Cupid Frowns + 236--A Shattered Romance + 237--A Woman of Whims + 238--Love Hath Wings + 239--A Love in the Balance + 240--Two True Hearts + 241--A Daughter of Eve + 242--Love Grown Cold + 243--The Lure of the Flame + 244--A Wild Rose + 245--At Love’s Fountain + 246--An Exacting Love + 247--An Ardent Wooing + 248--Toward Love’s Goal + 249--New Love or Old? + 250--One of Love’s Slaves + 251--Hester’s Husband + 252--On Love’s Highway + 253--He Dared to Love + 254--Humbled Pride + 255--Love’s Caprice + 256--A Cruel Revenge + 257--Her Struggle with Love + 258--Her Heart’s Problem + 259--In Love’s Bondage + 260--A Child of Caprice + 261--An Elusive Lover + 262--A Captive Fairy + 263--Love’s Burden + 264--A Crown of Faith + 265--Love’s Harsh Mandate + 266--The Harvest of Sin + 267--Love’s Carnival + 268--A Secret Sorrow + 269--True to His First Love + 270--Beyond Atonement + 271--Love Finds a Way + 272--A Girl’s Awakening + 273--In Quest of Love + 274--The Hero of Her Dreams + 275--Only a Flirt + 276--The Hour of Temptation + 277--Suffered in Silence + 278--Love and the World + 279--Love’s Sweet Hour + 280--Faithful and True + 281--Sunshine and Shadow + 282--For Love or Wealth? + 283--Love of His Youth + 284--Cast Upon His Care + 285--All Else Forgot + 286--When Hearts Are Young + 287--Her Love and His + 288--Her Sacred Trust + 289--While the World Scoffed + +In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the +books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New +York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance +promptly, on account of delays in transportation. + + +To be published In July, 1926. + + 290--The Heart of His Heart + 291--With Heart and Voice + + +To be published in August, 1926. + + 292--Outside Love’s Door + 293--For His Love’s Sake + + +To be published in September, 1926 + + 294--And This Is Love! + 295--When False Tongues Speak + + +To be published in October, 1926. + + 296--That Plain Little Girl + 297--A Daughter of Misfortune + + +To be published in November, 1926. + + 298--The Quest of His Heart + 299--Adrift on Love’s Tide + + +To be published in December, 1926. + + 300--Suffered in Vain + 301--Her Heart’s Delight + 302--A Love Victorious + + + + +ROMANCES THAT PLEASE MILLIONS + +The Love Story Library + +ALL BY RUBY M. AYRES + +_This Popular Writer’s Favorites_ + + +There is unusual charm and fascination about the love stories of Ruby +M. Ayres that give her writings a universal appeal. Probably there +is no other romantic writer whose books are enjoyed by such a wide +audience of readers. Her stories have genuine feeling and sentiment, +and this quality makes them liked by those who appreciate the true +romantic spirit. In this low-priced series, a choice selection of Miss +Ayres’ best stories is offered. + +In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the +books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New +York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance +promptly, on account of delays in transportation. + + +To be published in July, 1926. + + 1--Is Love Worth While? By Ruby M. Ayres + 2--The Black Sheep By Ruby M. Ayres + + +To be published in August, 1926. + + 3--The Waif’s Wedding By Ruby M. Ayres + 4--The Woman Hater By Ruby M. Ayres + 5--The Story of an Ugly Man By Ruby M. Ayres + + +To be published in September, 1926. + + 6--The Beggar Man By Ruby M. Ayres + 7--The Long Lane to Happiness By Ruby M. Ayres + + +To be published in October, 1926. + + 8--Dream Castles By Ruby M. Ayres + 9--The Highest Bidder By Ruby M. Ayres + + +To be published in November, 1926. + + 10--Love and a Lie By Ruby M. Ayres + 11--The Love of Robert Dennison By Ruby M. Ayres + + +To be published in December, 1926. + + 12--A Man of His Word By Ruby M. Ayres + 13--The Master Man By Ruby M. Ayres + + + + + SUFFERED IN VAIN + + OR, + + A PLAYTHING OF FATE + + BY + BERTHA M. CLAY + + Whose complete works will be published in this, the + NEW BERTHA CLAY LIBRARY + + [Illustration: S AND S NOVELS] + + Printed in the U. S. A. + + STREET & SMITH CORPORATION + PUBLISHERS + 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York + + + + +SUFFERED IN VAIN. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I. A SINGULAR WILL. + CHAPTER II. CAPTAIN DESFRAYNE’S PERPLEXITY. + CHAPTER III. LOIS TURQUAND’S EMBARRASSMENT. + CHAPTER IV. LOIS TURQUAND’S ALTERED FORTUNE. + CHAPTER V. A TRIPLE BONDAGE. + CHAPTER VI. PAUL’S GALLING SHACKLES. + CHAPTER VII. AN UNINTENTIONAL CUT. + CHAPTER VIII. THE NEW VALET. + CHAPTER IX. PLAYING AT CROSS-PURPOSES. + CHAPTER X. BUILDING ON SAND. + CHAPTER XI. PAUL DESFRAYNE’S WIFE. + CHAPTER XII. THE PRIMA DONNA’S HATE. + CHAPTER XIII. PAUL DESFRAYNE’S CONFESSION. + CHAPTER XIV. FRANK AMBERLEY’S EXULTATION. + CHAPTER XV. THE MISTRESS OF FLORE HALL. + CHAPTER XVI. GILARDONI’S LOVE-GIFT. + CHAPTER XVII. IN THE THUNDER-STORM. + CHAPTER XVIII. PAUL DESFRAYNE’S REFLECTIONS. + CHAPTER XIX. BLANCHE DORMER’S SURPRISE. + CHAPTER XX. THE BREAK OF DAWN. + CHAPTER XXI. LEONARDO GILARDONI’S STORY. + CHAPTER XXII. A VISION OF FREEDOM. + CHAPTER XXIII. THE EXPRESS TO LONDON. + CHAPTER XXIV. FRANK AMBERLEY’S ADVICE. + CHAPTER XXV. THE FIGURE ROBED IN BLACK. + CHAPTER XXVI. LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S DIAMOND RING. + CHAPTER XXVII. FRANK AMBERLEY’S MISSION. + CHAPTER XXVIII. THE INLAID CABINET. + CHAPTER XXIX. DEFIANCE, NOT DEFENSE. + CHAPTER XXX. FREE AT LAST. + CHAPTER XXXI. LUCIA’S TEARS. + CHAPTER XXXII. LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S MADNESS. + CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SOUND OF WEDDING-BELLS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A SINGULAR WILL. + + +Always more or less subdued in tone and tranquil of aspect, the +eminently genteel Square of Porchester is, perhaps, seen in its most +benign mood in the gently falling shadows of a summer’s twilight. + +The tall houses begin slowly, very slowly, to twinkle with a glowworm +irradiance from the drawing-rooms to the apartments on the upper +floors as the darkness increases. From the open windows float the +glittering strains of Gounod, Offenbach, Hervé, fluttering down over +the flower-wreathed balconies into the silent street beneath, each +succession of chords tumbling like so many fairies intoxicated with the +spirit of music. At not infrequent intervals, sparkling broughams whirl +past, carrying ladies arrayed obviously for dinner-party, soirée, or +opera, in gay toilets, only half-concealed by the loose folds of soft +wraps. + +At the moment the curtain rises, two persons of the drama occupy this +stage. + +One is an individual of a peculiarly unattractive exterior--a man of +probably some two or three and thirty years of age--a foreigner, by his +appearance. It would have been difficult to tell whether recent illness +or absolute want had made his not unhandsome face so white and pinched, +and caused the shabby garments to hang about his tall, well-knit +figure. Seemingly, he was one of those most forlorn of creatures--a +domestic servant out of employ. + +The expression on his countenance just now, as he leaned against the +iron railings of the enclosure, almost concealed behind a doctor’s +brougham which awaited its master, was not pleasant to regard. +Following the direction of his fixed stare, the eye was led to a +superbly beautiful woman, sitting half-within the French window of a +drawing-room opposite, half-out upon the balcony, among some clustering +flowers. + +This woman was undoubtedly quite unconscious of the steady attention +bestowed upon her by the solitary being, only distant from her presence +by a few feet. She was a young woman of about three-and-twenty--an +Italian, judging by her general aspect--attired in a rich costume, +lavishly trimmed with black lace. A white lace shawl, lightly thrown +over her shoulders, permitted only gracious and flowing outlines +to reveal themselves; but her supremely lovely face, the masses of +coiled and plaited hair, dark as night, stray diamond stars gleaming +here and there, the glowing complexion, the sleepy, long, silk, soft +lashes, resting upon cheeks which might be described as “peachlike,” +the crimson lips, the delicately rounded chin, the perfect, shell-like +ears, made up an ensemble of haunting beauty that, once seen, could +never be forgotten. + +Of the vicinity, much less of the rapt gaze of the wayfarer lingering +yonder, she was profoundly ignorant, her attention being entirely +occupied by a written sheet of paper, held between her slender white +fingers. This she was apparently studying with absorbed interest. + +The loiterer clenched his fist, malignant hate wrinkling his care-worn +face, and made a gesture, betraying the most intense anger toward the +imperial creature in the amber and black draperies. + +“So, Madam Lucia Guiscardini,” he muttered, under his breath, “you bask +up there, in your beauty and your finery, like some sleek, treacherous +cat! Beautiful signora, if I had a pistol now, I could shoot you dead, +without leaving you a moment to think upon your sins. Your sins! and +they say you are one of the best and noblest of women--those who do not +know your cold and cruel heart, snow-plumaged swan of Firenze! How can +it be that I could ever have loved you so wildly--that I could have +knelt down to kiss the ground upon which your dainty step had trod? +Were you the same--was I the same? Has all the world changed since +those days? + +“I have suffered cold and hunger, sickness and pain, weariness of +body, anguish of mind, while you have been lapped in luxury. You have +been gently borne about in your carriage, wrapped in velvets and furs, +or satins and laces, while I--I have passed through the rain-sodden +streets with scarcely a shoe to my foot. They say you refused, in your +pride, to marry a Russian prince the other day. All the world marveled +at your insolent caprice. I wonder what you think of me, or if you ever +honor me with a flying recollection? Am I the one drop of gall in your +cup of nectar, or have you forgotten me?” + +A quick, firm step startled the tranquil echoes of the square, and +made this fellow glance about with the vague sense of ever-recurring +alarm which poverty and distress engender in those unaccustomed to the +companionship of such dismal comrades. + +The instant he descried the person approaching, his countenance +changed. He cast down his fierce, keen eyes, and an expression +of humility replaced the glare of vindictive bitterness that had +previously rendered his visage anything but pleasant to look upon. + +This third personage of the drama was one, in appearance, worthy to +take the part of hero. He was, perhaps, about thirty years old, with a +noble presence, a fair and frank face, though one clouded by a strange +shadow of mysterious care ever brooding. The face attracted at once, +and inspired a wish to know something more of the soul looking through +those bright, half-sadly smiling violet eyes as from the windows of a +prison. + +The forlorn watcher next the iron railings left his post of stealthy +observation on seeing this gentleman, and, crossing, so as to intercept +him, stood in the middle of the pavement in such a way as to abruptly +bar the passage. + +The large kindly eyes, which had been cast down, as if indifferent to +all outward things, and engaged in painful introspection, were suddenly +raised with a flash of displeased surprise. + +“Sir,” began the poor lounger deprecatingly, half-unconsciously +clasping his meager hands, and speaking almost in the voice of a +supplicant, “Captain Desfrayne, forgive me for daring to address you; +but----” + +“You are a stranger to me, although you seem acquainted with my name,” +the gentleman said, scanning him with a keen glance. “I don’t know that +I have ever seen you before. What do you want? By your accent, you +appear to be an Italian.” + +“I am so, captain. I did not know you were coming this way, nor did +I know you were in London. I have only this moment seen you, as you +turned into the square; or I--I thought--for I know you, though perhaps +you may never have noticed me--I knew of old that you have a kind and +tender heart, and I thought---- Sir, I am a bad hand at begging; but I +am sorely, bitterly in need of help.” + +“Of help?” repeated Captain Desfrayne, still looking at him +attentively. “Of what kind of help?” + +Those bright eyes saw, although he asked the question, that the man +required succor in any and in every shape. + +“Sir, when I knew you, about three years ago, I was in the service of +the Count di Venosta, at Padua, as valet.” + +“I knew the count well, though I have no recollection of you,” said +Captain Desfrayne. “Go on.” + +“He died about a year and a half ago. I nursed him through his last +illness, and caught the fever of which he died. I had a little +money--my savings--to live on for a while; but all is gone now, and I +don’t know which way to turn, or whither to look for another situation. +It was with the hope of finding some friends that I came to London; I +might as well be in the Great Desert.” + +“I have no doubt your story is perfectly true; but I don’t see what I +can do for you,” Captain Desfrayne said, with some pity. “However, I +will consider, and, if you like to come and see me to-morrow, perhaps +I---- What is your name?” + +“Leonardo Gilardoni, sir.” + +The hungry, eager eyes watched as Captain Desfrayne took a note-book +from his pocket and scribbled down the name, adding a brief memorandum +besides. + +The sound of these men’s voices speaking just beneath her window had +failed to attract the attention of the beautiful creature in the +balcony. But now, when a sudden silence succeeded, she looked over from +an undefined feeling of half-unconscious interest or curiosity. + +As she glanced carelessly down at the two figures, the expression on +her face utterly changed. The great eyes, the hue of black velvet, +opened widely, as if from terror, or an astonishment too stupendous to +be controlled. For a moment she seemed unable to withdraw her gaze, +fascinated, apparently. + +The little white hands were fiercely clenched; and if glances could +kill, those two men would have rapidly traversed the valley of the +shadow of death. + +Fortunately, glances, however baleful, fall harmless as summer +lightning; and the interlocutors remained happily ignorant of the +absorbed attention wherewith they were favored. + +In a moment or two she rose, and, standing just within the room, +clutching the curtain with a half-convulsive grip, peered down +malevolently into the street. + +“What can have brought these two men here together?” she muttered. +“Do they come to seek me? I did not know they were conscious of one +another’s existence. What are they doing? Why are they here? Accursed +be the day I ever saw the face of either!” + +The visage, so wondrously beautiful in repose, looked almost hideous +thus distorted by fury. + +She saw Captain Desfrayne put his little note-book back in his pocket, +and then heard him say: + +“If you will come to me about--say, six or seven o’clock to-morrow +evening, at my chambers in”--she missed the name of the street and +the number, though she craned her white throat forward eagerly--“I +will speak further to you. Do not come before that time, as I shall be +absent all day.” + +With swift, compassionate fingers he dropped a piece of gold into the +thin hand of the unhappy, friendless man before him, and then moved, as +if to continue his way. + +The superb creature above craned out her head as far as she dared, to +watch the two. Captain Desfrayne, however, seemed to be the personage +she was specially desirous of following with her keen glances. To her +amazement and evident consternation, he walked up to the immediately +adjacent house, and rang the bell. The door opened, and he disappeared. + +The shabby, half-slouching figure of the supplicant for help shuffled +off in the other direction, toward Westbourne Grove, and vanished from +out the square. + +Releasing her grip of the draperies hanging by the window, the proud +and insolent beauty began walking up and down the room, flinging away +the paper from which she had been studying. + +She looked like some handsome tigress, cramped up in a gilded cage, +as she paced to and fro, her dress trailing along the carpet in rich +and massive folds. Some almost ungovernable fit of passion appeared +to have seized upon her, and she gave way to her impulses as a hot, +undisciplined nature might yield. + +There was a strange kind of contrast between the feline grace of her +movements, the faultless elegance of her perfect toilet, the splendor +of her beauty, and the untutored violence of her manner. + +“What do they want here?” she asked, half-aloud. “Why do they come +here, plotting under my windows? Do they defy me? Do they hope to +crush me? What has Paul Desfrayne to complain of? I defy him, as I do +Leonardo Gilardoni! Let them do their worst! What are they going to do? +Has Leonardo Gilardoni found any--any----” + +She started back and looked round with a guilty terror, as if she dared +not think out the half-spoken surmise even to herself. + +“He knows nothing--he can know nothing; and he has no longer any hold +on me,” she muttered presently; “unless--unless the other has told +him; and I don’t believe he would trust a fellow like _him_: for Paul +Desfrayne is as proud as Lucifer. Oh, if I could but live my life over +again! What mistakes--what fatal mistakes I have made--mistakes which +may yet bring ruin as their fruit! I will leave England to-morrow. I +don’t care what they say, or think, or what loss it may cost to myself +or any one else. Yet, am I safer elsewhere? I know not. What would be +the consequences if they could prove I had done what I have done? I +know not; I have never had the courage to ask.” + +Totally unconscious of the vicinity of this beautiful, vindictive +woman, Captain Desfrayne tranquilly passed into the house which he had +come to visit. + +“Can I see Mrs. Desfrayne?” he inquired of the smart maid servant who +answered his summons. + +“I will see, sir. She was at dinner, sir, and I don’t think she has +gone out yet.” + +The beribboned and pretty girl, throwing open the door of a room at +hand, and ushering the visitor within, left him alone, while she +flitted off in search of the lady for whom he had asked, not, however, +without taking a sidelong glance at his handsome face before she +disappeared. + +The apartment was a long dining-room, extending from the front to +the back of the house, furnished amply, yet with a certain richness, +the articles being all of old oak, carved elaborately, which lent a +somber, somewhat stately effect. It was obviously, however, a room in a +semifashionable boarding-house. + +In a few minutes a lady opened the door, and entered with the joyous +eagerness of a girl. + +A graceful, dignified woman, in reality seventeen years older than +Captain Desfrayne, but who looked hardly five years his senior, of +the purest type of English matronly beauty. She seemed like one of +Reynolds’ or Gainsborough’s most exquisite portraits warmed into +life, just alighted from its canvas. The soft, blond hair, the clear, +roselike complexion, the large, half-melting violet eyes, the smiling +mouth, with its dimples playing at hide-and-seek, the perfectly +chiseled nose, the dainty, rounded chin, the patrician figure, so +classically molded that it drew away attention from the fact that every +little detail of the apparently little-studied yet careful toilet was +finished to the most refined nicety--these hastily noted points could +scarce give any conception of the almost dazzling loveliness of Paul +Desfrayne’s widowed mother. + +She entered with a light, quick step, and being met almost as she +crossed the threshold by her visitor, she raised her white hands, +sparkling with rings, and drew down his head with an ineffably tender +and loving touch. + +“My boy--my own Paul,” she half-cooed, kissing his forehead. “This is, +indeed, an unexpected pleasure. I did not even know that you were in +London.” + +For a moment the young man seemed about to return his mother’s caress; +but he did not do so. + +She crossed to the window, and placing a second chair, as she seated +herself, desired Paul to take it. + +There was a positive pleasure in observing the movements of this +perfectly graceful woman. She seemed the embodiment of a soft, sweet +strain of music; every gesture, every fold of her draperies was at once +so natural, yet so absolutely harmonious, that it was impossible to +suggest an alteration for the better. + +“I supposed you to be settled for a time in Paris,” Mrs. Desfrayne +said, as her son did not appear inclined to take the lead in the +impending dialogue, but accepted his chair in almost moody silence. + +“I should have written to you, mother; but I thought I should most +probably arrive as soon, or perhaps even precede my letter,” replied +Captain Desfrayne. + +“You look anxious and a little worried. Has unpleasant business brought +you back? You have not obtained the appointment to the French embassy +for which you were looking?” + +“No. I am anxious, undoubtedly; but I suppose I ought not to say I am +worried, though I find myself placed in a most remarkable, and--what +shall I say?--delicate position. Yesterday I received a letter, +and I came at once to consult you, with the hope that you might be +able to give me some good advice. I fear I have called at rather an +unreasonable hour?” + +A tenderly reproachful glance seemed to assure him that no hour could +be unreasonable that brought his ever-welcome presence. + +“I will advise you to the best of my ability, my dear,” Mrs. Desfrayne +smilingly said. “What has happened?” + +Paul Desfrayne drew a letter from the pocket of the light coat which he +had thrown over his evening dress, and looked at it for a moment or two +in silence, as if at a loss how to introduce its evidently embarrassing +contents. + +His mother watched him with undisguised anxiety, her brilliant eyes +half-veiled by the blue-veined lids. + +“This letter,” Paul at length said, “is from a legal firm. It refers to +a person whom I had some difficulty in recalling to mind, and places me +in a most embarrassing position toward another person whom I have never +seen.” + +“A situation certainly indicating a promise of some perplexity,” Mrs. +Desfrayne half-laughingly remarked. + +“Some years ago,” Paul continued, “there lived an old man--he was an +iron-dealer originally, or something of that sort--a person in a very +humble rank of life; but somehow he contrived to make an enormous +fortune. He has, in fact, left the sum of nearly three hundred thousand +pounds.” + +“To you?” demanded Mrs. Desfrayne, in a thrilling tone, not as if she +believed such to be the case; for her son’s accent scarcely warranted +such an assumption; but as if the wish was father to the thought. + +Paul shook his head. + +“Not to me--to some young girl he took an interest in, as far as I +can understand. I happened to render him a slight service--I hardly +remembered it now--some insignificant piece of civility or kindness. It +seems he entertained a great respect for me, and attributed the rise of +his wealth to me. This young girl--I don’t know whether she was related +to him or not--has been left the sole, or nearly the sole, inheritor of +his money, and I----” + +“And you, Paul?” + +“Have been nominated her trustee and sole executor by his will. I +believe he has bequeathed me some few thousands, as a remuneration for +my trouble.” + +The slight tinge of pinky color on the cheeks of the beautiful Mrs. +Desfrayne deepened visibly, although she sat with her back to the +window. + +“How old is the young lady?” she asked, in a subdued tone. + +“Eighteen or nineteen.” + +“Is she--has she any father or mother?” + +“Both are dead. She is, I understand, alone in the world.” + +“Have you seen her?” + +“No.” + +“Do you know what she is like?” + +“I am as ignorant of everything concerning her, personally, as you are +yourself, mother.” + +“Is she pretty?” + +Paul Desfrayne’s face hardened almost to sternness and his eyes drooped. + +“I have already told you, mother mine, that I know nothing whatever +about her. If you will take the trouble to glance over this letter, you +will learn as much as I know myself. I have nothing more to tell you +than what is written therein.” + +The dainty fingers trembled slightly as they were quickly stretched +forth to receive the missive, which Paul took from its legal-looking +envelope. + +Mrs. Desfrayne ran rapidly over the contents, and then read it through +more slowly a second time. + +It purported to be from Messrs. Salmon, Joyner & Joyner, the eminent +firm of solicitors in Alderman’s Lane, and requested Captain Desfrayne +to favor them with a call at his earliest convenience, as they wished +to go over the will of Mr. Vere Gardiner, iron-founder, lately +deceased, who had appointed him--Captain Desfrayne--sole trustee to the +chief legatee, an orphan girl of nineteen, sole executor to the estate, +which was valued at about two hundred and sixty thousand pounds, and +legatee to the amount of ten thousand pounds. The letter added that Mr. +Vere Gardiner had expressed a profound respect for Captain Desfrayne, +and had several times declared that he owed his uprise in life to a +special act of kindness received from him. + +“How very extraordinary!” Mrs. Desfrayne softly exclaimed, at length. +“He scarcely knew you, yet trusts this young girl and her large fortune +to your sole charge. Flattering, but, as you say, embarrassing. Two +hundred and sixty thousand pounds!” she murmured. “A girl of nineteen. +If she is a beauty”--she slightly shrugged her dimpled shoulders--“your +position will be an onerous one, indeed.” + +“They might as well have asked me to play keeper to a white elephant,” +the young man said, with some acerbity. “I will have nothing to do with +it.” + +“Do not be too hasty. Probably this person had good reason for what he +has done. Besides, you would be foolish to refuse so handsome a present +as you are promised; for we cannot conceal from ourselves that ten +thousand pounds would be a very acceptable gift.” + +“If a free one, yes; if burdened with unpleasant conditions, why, there +might be difference of opinion. I had almost made up my mind to decline +at once and for all; but I thought it would be more prudent to consult +you first.” + +“My dear Paul, I feel--I will not say flattered, but I thank you very +much for your kind estimation of my judgment. All I can say is: Go and +see what these lawyers have to say. Then, if they do not succeed in +inducing you to receive the trust, see the girl, and judge for yourself +what would be best. Perhaps she has no friend but you, and she might +run the risk of losing her fortune. Perhaps she is sorely in need of +some protector--perhaps even of money. Where does she live?” + +“As I told you before,” Captain Desfrayne replied, with more asperity +than seemed at all necessary under the circumstances, “I did not know +even of her existence before receiving that letter, and I now know not +one solitary fact more than you do. I know nothing of the girl, or of +her money. I do not wish to know; I take no interest, and I don’t want +to take any interest now, or in the future.” + +“But it is foolish to refuse to perform a duty when you are so entirely +ignorant of the reasons why this money has been thrown into your +keeping,” urged Mrs. Desfrayne gently. + +“If I refuse, I suppose the Court of Chancery will find somebody more +capable, and certainly may easily find some one more willing than +myself,” Captain Desfrayne said, almost irritably. + +“If it had been a boy, instead of a girl, would you have been so +reluctant?” asked Mrs. Desfrayne, smiling mischievously. + +“That has nothing to do with it. I have to deal with the matter as it +now exists, not as it might have been.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne glanced at her son from beneath the long, silken lashes +that half-concealed her great blue eyes. It seemed so strange to hear +that musical voice, which for nine-and-twenty or thirty years had been +as soft and sweet to her ears, as if incapable of one jangled note, +fall into that odd, irritable discordance. + +Paul was out of sorts and out of humor, she could see. Was he telling +her _all_ the truth? + +Never, in all those years of his life, most of which had passed under +her own vision, had he uttered, looked, or even seemed to harbor one +thought that he was not ready and willing for his mother to take +cognizance of. Why, then, this possible reticence, blowing across their +lifelong confidence like the bitter northeast wind ruffling over clear +water, turning its surface into a fragile veil of ice? + +The young man was out of humor, for his meeting with the fellow whom he +had just encountered almost on the threshold of the house had brought +up many recollections he would fain have banished--memories of a time +he would gladly have erased from the pages of his life--a time whereof +his mother knew nothing. + +Mrs. Desfrayne, however, shot very wide of the mark when she ascribed +his alteration of look and manner to some foreknowledge of the girl in +question. He spoke nothing but the truth in saying that he had never as +much as heard of her before receiving the letter that lay between his +mother’s fingers. + +With the electric sympathy of strong mutual affection, Paul Desfrayne +quickly perceived the ill effect his coldness had upon his mother; and +with an effort he cleared his countenance, and assumed a shadow of +his formerly smiling aspect. He looked down, and appeared to consider. +Then, raising his eyes to those of his mother, he said, with an air of +resignation: + +“I suppose it would be best to see the lawyers, and hear what they have +to say. It is a most intolerable bore. I don’t know what I have done to +merit being visited for my sins in this fashion.” + +“You don’t remember what you happened to do for this eccentrically +disposed old man?” + +Paul Desfrayne shrugged his shoulders. + +“A remarkably simple matter, when all is said and done. I was traveling +once with him, as well as I can remember, and he began talking to me +about some wonderful invention he had just brought to perfection. He +was in what I supposed to be rather cramped circumstances, though not +an absolutely poor man, for he was traveling first-class. I should +not have thought about him at all, only, with the enthusiasm of an +inventor, he persisted in bothering me about this thing. + +“I thought at the time it was deserving of notice; and when he +alighted, I happened to almost tumble into the arms of the very man who +had it in his power to get the affair into use and practise. More to +get rid of him than for any more worthy motive, I introduced the two +to each other. It was something this old Vere Gardiner had invented, +for some kind of machinery, which, if adopted by the government, would +save--I really forget how much. I recollect asking this friend, some +time after, if he had done anything about it, and he told me it would +probably make the fortune of half a dozen people. He seemed delighted +with the old man and his invention. + +“This must be the service he made so much of. It was a service costing +me just five or six sentences. I did not even stop to see what +Percival, this friend, thought of old Gardiner, or what he thought of +Percival; but left them talking together in the waiting-room, for I was +in a desperate hurry to reach you, mother. I never anticipated hearing +of the affair again.” + +There was a brief silence. + +“This man, it is to be presumed, was of humble birth,” said Mrs. +Desfrayne. “It will be too dreadful if, with the irony of blind fate, +this girl proves unpresentable. In that case--at nineteen--it will be +too late to mend her manners, or her education. Perhaps she has some +frightfully appalling cognomen, which will render it a martyrdom to +present her in society. If she is anything of a hobgoblin, you may with +justice talk of a white elephant.” + +“I suppose there is no clause in the criminal code whereby I may +be compelled to accept the trust if I do not elect voluntarily to +undertake it?” Captain Desfrayne asked, with a slight smile at his +mother’s fastidious alarm. “And if she is nineteen now, I suppose my +responsibility would cease in two years?” + +“Perhaps. Some crotchety old men make very singular wills. I wonder +how it happened that he had no business friend in whom he could +confide?--why he must choose a stranger, and entrust to that stranger +such a large sum? I wish I knew what the girl’s name is, and what she +is like, and what possible position she may occupy? For if you receive +the trust, I presume I shall have the felicity of playing the part of +chaperon.” + +“It is perfectly useless discussing the matter until we know something +more certain,” Captain Desfrayne said, his irritation again displaying +itself unaccountably. + +“One cannot help surmising, my dearest Paul. Perhaps the girl is a +nursemaid, or a milliner’s apprentice, and misuses her aspirates, and +is a budding Malaprop,” Mrs. Desfrayne persisted. “However, we shall +see. Go with me this evening to the opera, if you have nothing better +to do. Lady Quaintree has lent me her box.” + +As she was folding her opera-cloak about her youthful-looking person +the good lady said to herself: + +“There is some mystery here; but of what kind? Paul is not quite his +own frank self. What has happened? He has kept something from me. +I could not help fancying something occurred during his absence in +Venice three years ago. I wonder if he knows more about this girl, the +fortunate legatee of the eccentric old iron-founder, than he chooses to +acknowledge? But he must have some most powerful reason to induce him +to hide anything from me; and he said twice most distinctly that he had +never seen her and did not know her name. I do not believe Paul could +be guilty of deceit.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +CAPTAIN DESFRAYNE’S PERPLEXITY. + + +The midday sun made an abortive effort to struggle down between the +tall rows of houses on either side of busy, hurrying Alderman’s Lane, +glinting here and glancing there, showering royal largesse. + +The big building devoted to the offices of Messrs. Salmon, Joyner & +Joyner was lying completely bathed in the golden radiance; for it +occupied the corner, where the opening of a street running transverse +allowed the glorious beams to descend unimpeded. + +A great barracklike edifice, more like a bank than a lawyer’s city +abode. A wide flight of steps led up to a handsome swing door, on which +a brightly burnished plate blazoned forth the name of the firm. This +opened upon an oblong hall, in which were posted two doleful-looking +boys, each immured in a kind of walled-off cell; a spacious staircase +ran from this hall to a succession of small, cell-like apartments, all +furnished in as frugal a manner as was compatible with use; a long +table, covered with piles of papers of various descriptions; three or +four hard chairs; a bookcase crammed with tall books bound in vellum, +and morose-looking tin deed-boxes labeled with names. + +In one of these dim, uninviting cells sat a gentleman, apparently +quite at ease, his employment at the moment the scene draws back and +reveals him to view being the leisurely perusal of the _Times_; a man +of perhaps the same age as Captain Desfrayne--a pleasant, grave-looking +gentleman, with kindly dark eyes, a carefully trimmed dark-brown beard, +a pale complexion, and a symmetrical figure. + +One of the melancholy walled-in youths suddenly appeared to disturb the +half-dreamy studies of this serene personage. + +Throwing open the door, he announced: + +“Captain Desfrayne.” + +The captain walked in, and the door was shut. + +The occupant of the apartment had risen as the youth ushered in the +visitor, and advanced the few steps the limited space permitted, +smiling with a peculiarly winning expression. + +“Mr. Amberley?” questioned Captain Desfrayne. + +“I have called,” he went on, as the owner of that name bowed +assentingly, “in obedience to a letter received by me from Messrs. +Salmon, Joyner & Joyner.” + +He threw upon the table the letter he had shown to his mother, and then +seated himself, as Mr. Amberley signed for him to do. + +Mr. Amberley, in spite of the latent smile in his dark eyes, seemed to +be a man inclined to let other people save him the trouble of talking +if they felt so disposed. He took up the letter, extracted it from its +envelope, and unfolded it. + +“Mr. Salmon and Mr. Willis Joyner wished to meet you, together with +myself,” he remarked, “but were obliged to attend another appointment. +In the meantime, before you can see them, I shall be happy to afford +you all necessary explanations.” + +“Which I very much need, for I am unpleasantly mystified. In the first +place, I am at a loss to comprehend why this client of yours should +have selected me as the person to whom he chose to confide so vast a +trust,” Captain Desfrayne replied, in a tone almost bordering on ill +humor. + +“I am quite aware of the fact that you were not a personal friend of +Mr. Vere Gardiner,” said the lawyer. “He trusted scarcely any one. I +believe he entertained a painfully low estimate of the goodness or +honesty of the majority of people. Of his particular object in giving +this property into your care, I am unable to enlighten you. I know that +he took a great interest in you; and as he frequently sojourned in the +places where you happened to be staying, I have no doubt he had every +opportunity of becoming acquainted with as much as he wished to learn +of--of---- In fact, I have no grounds beyond such observations as may +have been made before me for judging that he did take an interest in +you. If you are surprised by the circumstance of his appointing you to +such a post, I think you will probably be infinitely more so when you +hear the contents of the will.” + +He rose, and took from an iron safe a piece of folded parchment, which +he spread open before him on his desk. + +Captain Desfrayne said nothing, but eyed the portentous document with +an odd glance. + +“The history of this will is perhaps a curious one,” Mr. Frank +Amberley resumed. “Mr. Vere Gardiner was, when a young man, very +deeply attached to a young person in his own rank of life, whom he +wished to marry. She, however, preferred another, and refused the +offers of Mr. Gardiner. He never married. In a few years she was left +a widow. He again renewed his offer, and was again refused. He was +very urgent; and, to avoid him, she changed her residence several +times. The consequence was, he lost sight of her. He became a wealthy +man, chiefly, he always declared, through your instrumentality. After +this he found this person--when he had, so to speak, become a man of +fortune--again renewed his offer of marriage, and was again refused as +firmly as before. She had one child, a daughter.” + +The lawyer turned to look for some papers, which he did not succeed in +finding, and, having made a search, turned back again. + +Captain Desfrayne made no remark whatever. + +“He offered to do anything, or to help this Mrs. Turquand in any way +she would allow him: to put the child to school, or---- In fact, his +offers were most generous. But she persistently shunned him, and +refused to listen to anything he had to say. He lost sight of her for +some years before his death, and did not even know whether she was +living or dead. + +“It was accidentally through--through me,” the lawyer continued, +speaking with a visible effort, as if somewhat overmastered by an +emotion inexplicable under the circumstances--“it was through me that +he learned of the death of the mother and the whereabouts of the +daughter.” + +“The latter being, I presume, the young lady whom he has been kind +enough to commit to my care?” Captain Desfrayne asked. + +Mr. Amberley twirled an ivory paper-cutter about for a moment or two +before replying. + +“Precisely so. I happen to be acquainted with--with the young lady; and +he one day mentioned her name, and said how anxious he was to find her. +I volunteered to introduce her to him; but he was then ill, and the +interview was deferred. He went to Nice, the place where Mrs. Turquand +had died, and drew his last breath in the very house where she had been +staying. In accordance with his dying wishes, he was buried close by +the spot where she was laid. The will was drawn up a few weeks before +he quitted England.” + +“I certainly wish he had selected any one rather than myself for this +onerous trust,” Captain Desfrayne said, with some irritation. “What is +the young lady’s name? Miss Turquand?” + +Mr. Amberley hesitated, took up the will, and laid it down again; then +took it up, and placed it before Captain Desfrayne. + +“If you will read that, you will learn all you require to know,” he +replied, without looking up. + +He had been perfectly right in remarking that, if Captain Desfrayne had +felt surprised before, he would be doubly astonished when he came to +read Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will. + +Captain Desfrayne was fairly astounded, and could scarcely believe +that he read aright. The sum of two hundred and sixty thousand pounds +was left, divided equally into two portions, but burdened largely with +restrictions. + +One hundred and thirty thousand pounds was bequeathed to Lois Turquand, +a minor, spinster. Until she reached the age of twenty-one, however, +she was to receive only the annual income of two thousand pounds. + +The second half--one hundred and thirty thousand pounds--was left +to Paul Desfrayne, Captain in his majesty’s One Hundred and Tenth +Regiment, he being appointed also sole trustee, in the event of his +being willing to marry the aforesaid Lois Turquand when she reached +the age of twenty-one. In case the aforesaid Lois Turquand refused to +marry him, he was to receive fifty thousand pounds; if he refused to +marry her, he was to have ten thousand pounds. If they married, the sum +of two hundred and sixty thousand pounds was to be theirs; if not, the +money forfeited by the non-compliance with this matrimonial scheme was +to be distributed in equal portions among certain London hospitals, +named one by one. + +Three thousand pounds was left to be divided among the managers of +departments and persons in positions of trust in the employ of the +firm; one thousand among the clerks in the office, and five hundred +among the domestics in his service at the time of his death. + +In the event of the demise of Lois Turquand before attaining the age of +twenty-one, Paul Desfrayne was to receive a clear sum of one hundred +and thirty thousand pounds; the other moiety to be divided among the +London hospitals named. + +Mr. Amberley was closely regarding Captain Desfrayne as the latter read +this will--to him so singular--once, twice. When Captain Desfrayne at +length raised his head, however, Mr. Amberley’s glance was averted, +and he was gazing calmly through the murky window at the radiant blue +summer sky. + +For some minutes Captain Desfrayne was unable to speak. + +“It is the will of a lunatic!” he at length impatiently exclaimed. + +“Of a man as fully in possession of his senses as you or I,” calmly +replied Mr. Amberley. “You do not seem to relish the manner in which he +has claimed your services.” + +“I don’t know what to think--what to say. I wish he had selected any +one rather than myself, which you will say is ingratitude, seeing how +magnificently he has offered to reward me. When shall I be obliged to +go through an interview with the young lady?” + +“Whenever you please--this afternoon, if convenient to you.” + +Captain Desfrayne looked at the lawyer, as if startled. It almost +seemed as if he turned pale. + +“When, I suppose, I am to enjoy the privilege of breaking the news?” he +demanded, with a little gasp. + +“You speak as if the prospect were anything but pleasing. If you object +to the task, it will, perhaps, be all the better to get it done at +once.” + +“Where does she live?” + +“She is staying with Lady Quaintree, in Lowndes Square.” + +Paul Desfrayne recollected, with a queer feeling of surprise, that his +mother had said the previous evening that Lady Quaintree had lent her +the opera-box which she had used. Could it be possible that his mother +already knew this girl? + +“Lady Quaintree!” he repeated mechanically. + +“Certainly. Miss Turquand has been living there for two or three years; +she is her ladyship’s companion. If you have no other engagement of +pressing importance, I fancy the most easy and agreeable way would be +to call at the house this evening, about eight o’clock. Lady Quaintree +is to have some sort of reception to-night, and, as I am almost one of +the household, we could see her before the people begin to arrive.” + +Paul Desfrayne gave way to fate. There was no help for it, so he was +obliged to agree to this arrangement, or choose to think himself +obliged, which was worse. + +Frank Amberly thought that not many men would have received with such +obvious repugnance the position of sole trustee to a beautiful girl +of eighteen, who had just become entitled to a splendid fortune, +especially when there were such provisions in his own favor. + +“It is thus he receives what _I_ would have given--what would I _not_ +have given?--to have obtained the trust,” he said mentally, with a keen +pang of jealous envy. + +It was a strange freak of Dame Fortune--who yet must surely be a +spiteful old maid--to bring these two men, of all others, into such +communication. + +Paul Desfrayne’s thoughts were in a kind of whirl, an entanglement +which was anything but conducive to clear deliberation or calm +reflection. They eddied and surged with deadly fury round one great +rock that reared its cruel black crest before him, standing there in +the midst of his life, impassive, coldly menacing. + +Hitherto, with the exception of one fatal occasion, he had always +consulted his mother on all matters of difficulty or perplexity. +But now he must carefully conceal his real thoughts from that still +beloved counselor. It was useless to go to her, as of yore, for advice +as to the best course to take: he dared not tell her this miserable +secret which bound him in a viselike grip. His mother would at once, +he knew--unconscious that any link in the chain was concealed from +her--say he must be mad not to accept, without hesitation, this trust. +She would certainly urge him, for the sake of this unknown girl +herself. He must decide now: it would, perhaps, only make matters worse +if he delayed, or asked time for consideration. + +Besides, if he refused, what rational reason could he assign to any one +of those concerned for declining the trust? + +No; he must agree to whatever was set before him now, although by so +doing he would almost with his own hands sow what might prove to be the +most bitter harvest in the future. + +He was within a maze, wherein he did not at present discern the +slightest clue to guide him to the outlet of escape. It was impossible +to explain his position to any one, yet he felt that it was next to +pitiful cowardice to march under false colors. + +One thing was clear: if he could not explain his reasons for declining +to accept what, while somewhat eccentric, was a fair and apparently +tempting offer, he must be ready to take the place assigned to him. Not +only was this self-evident, but also that no matter what time he must +ask for reflection, his position could not be altered, and he could +give no plausible excuse of any kind to his mother for rejecting such +princely favors. + +“This young lady is not--is not, then, acquainted with the contents of +this will?” he asked, raising his head, and speaking somewhat wearily. + +“Not as yet. We thought it best to wait until you could yourself make +the communication.” + +He might as well face the girl now, and have it over, as leave it to +a month, six months, a year hence. He was a soldier, yet a coward +and afraid; but he shut his eyes, as he might if ordered to fire a +train, and resolved to go through with the task, which, to any other +one--taken at random from ten thousand men--must have been a pleasant +duty. + +The lawyer regarded him with surprise, but could not, of course, make +any remark. His wide experience had never supplied him with a parallel +case to this: of a man receiving such rare and costly gifts from +fortune with clouded brow and half-averted eye. The hopes, however, +which had well-nigh died within his breast, of winning the one bright +jewel he coveted, revived, if feebly. + +“There is something strangely amiss,” he thought; “but she will be +doubly, trebly shielded from the slightest risk of harm.” + +Captain Desfrayne--his troubled gaze still on the open parchment, +which he regarded as if it were his death-warrant--absolutely started +when Mr. Amberley addressed him, after a short silence, inviting +him to partake of some wine, which magically appeared from a dim, +dusty-looking nook. + +After a little desultory conversation, having arranged the hour of +meeting and other necessary details, Frank Amberley observed, an odd +smile lurking at the corners of his handsome mouth: + +“This is not the first time we have met, though you have apparently +forgotten me.” + +The captain looked at him. + +“I really do not remember you,” he said, with a puzzled expression. + +“You do not remember a certain moonlight night in Turin, when you +shot a bandit dead, as his dagger was within five or six inches of +an Englishman’s throat? Nor an excursion which took place some weeks +previously, when you met the same compatriot in a diligence--myself, +in fact? We wrote down one another’s names, and were going to swear an +eternal friendship, when you were abruptly obliged to quit the city, +in consequence of some business call, or regimental duties.” + +“The circumstances have by no means escaped my memory,” answered +Captain Desfrayne, in an indefinable tone; “though I should have +scarcely recognized you. Since then you have a little altered.” + +Frank Amberley, laughingly, stroked the silken beard, which had +certainly greatly changed his aspect. But the coldness of the formerly +open, frank-hearted man, whom he had so liked three or four years ago, +struck him with deepened suspicion that something was amiss. + +“I am glad to have met you,” he said. “I should be very pleased if you +could dine with me this evening at the ‘London.’ My people are going +out this evening, so I am compelled to make shift as I best can, and I +don’t relish dining alone at home.” + +A brief hesitation was ended by Paul Desfrayne accepting this +free-and-easy invitation. + +The two young men then shook hands and parted, with the agreement to +meet again for a six-o’clock dinner. + +Truly, times, places, and things had altered since those days at Turin, +the recollection of which seemed to bring scant pleasure to Paul +Desfrayne’s weary heart. + +“Some fatal secret has become ingrained with that man’s life,” said the +young lawyer, as he closed the door upon his visitor. “Great heavens! +that Lois Turquand should spurn my love, and be thrown, perhaps, into +the unwilling arms of a man like this, with such a hunted, half-guilty +look in his eyes! It shall not be--it _cannot_ be! Fate could not be so +cruel!” + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +LOIS TURQUAND’S EMBARRASSMENT. + + +The sun, that was shut out by towering walls from the busy city, +like some intrusive idler, was lying, half-slumbrously, like some +magnificent Eastern slave arrayed in jewels and gold, among the +brilliant-hued and many-scented flowers heaped under the striped +Venetian blinds stretched over the balconies of a mansion in Lowndes +Square. + +An occasional soft breeze lifted the curtains lowered over the windows, +granting a transient vision of apartments replete with luxury, glowing +under the influence of an exquisitely delicate taste. + +Within the principal drawing-room sat a stately matron, with +silver-white hair, attired in full evening costume, apparently awaiting +the arrival of expected guests. + +Lady Quaintree was handsome, even at sixty, with a soft, clear skin, +and a complexion girlishly brilliant; a figure full, without being +dangerously stout; a most wondrously dainty hand, on which sparkled +clusters of rings that might have formed a king’s ransom. Her ladyship +had been a beauty in her youth--not a spoiled, ill-humored beauty, but +one kind and indulgent, much flattered and loved, taking adoration +as her due, as a queen accepts all the rights and privileges of her +position. + +A woman made up of mild virtues--good, though not religious; kind and +pleasant, though not benevolent, abhorring the poor, and the sick, and +the unfortunate--the very name of trouble was disagreeable to her. This +world would have been a sunny, rose-tinted Arcadia could she have had +her way; it should have been always summer. + +She went regularly to church on Sunday morning with great decorum, +turning over the pages of her beautiful ivory-covered church service +at the proper time, and always put sovereigns on the plate with much +liberality when there was a collection. She gave directions to her +housekeeper in the country to deal out coats, and blankets, and all +that sort of thing, to deserving applicants. If flower-girls, or +wretched-looking beggars, crowded round her carriage when she went out +shopping, they not unfrequently received sixpences as a bribe to take +themselves and their miseries out of sight. + +So that, altogether, her ladyship felt she had a reason to rely on +being defended from all adversities which might happen to the body, and +all evil thoughts which might assault and hurt the soul. + +Lady Quaintree was nearly asleep when a liveried servant drew aside the +velvet portière, and announced: + +“Captain Desfrayne and Mr. Amberley!” + +Paul Desfrayne’s glance swept the suite of apartments, as if in search +of the girl who unconsciously held the threads of his destiny in her +hands; but, to his relief, she was not to be seen. + +He allowed himself to be led up to the mistress of the house, and +went through the ceremony of introduction like one in a dream. Lady +Quaintree spoke to him, and made some smiling remarks; but he was +unable to do more than reply intelligibly in monosyllables. The +first words that broke upon his half-dazed senses with anything like +clearness were uttered by Frank Amberley. + +“Not so much, my dear aunt, to pay our respects to you as to +communicate a most important matter of business to--to Miss Turquand. +I suppose we ought to have come at a proper hour in the business part +of the day, but it was my idea to, if possible, take off the--in fact, +I imagined it might be the most pleasant way of introducing Captain +Desfrayne to bring him here this evening.” + +Lady Quaintree had opened her eyes at the commencement of this speech. + +“A most important matter of business concerning Miss Turquand?” she +said. “What can it possibly be?” + +“She certainly ought to be the first to hear it,” replied Frank +Amberley; “though, as her nearest friend, my dear aunt, you ought to +learn the facts as soon as herself.” + +“You have a sufficiently mysterious air, Frank. I feel eager to hear +these wonderful tidings.” + +Her ladyship felt a little piqued that her nephew did not offer at once +to give her at least some hint of what the important matter of business +might be about. + +A sudden thought seemed to strike her, and she rang a tiny, silver +hand-bell with some sharpness, while an expression of anxiety crossed +her face. As she did so, a figure, so ethereal that it seemed like +an emanation of fancy, floated unexpectedly from the entrance to the +farthest room, and came down the length of the two salons beyond that +in which the little group was stationed. + +For a moment it seemed as if this fairylike vision had appeared in +response to the musical tingling of the bell. + +A girl of eighteen or nineteen, dressed in the familiar costume of +Undine. A figure, tall, full of a royal dignity and repose, like +that of a statue of Diana. A face surrounded by a radiant glory of +sun-bright hair, recalling those pure saints and martyrs which glow +serenely mild from the dim walls of old Italian or Spanish cathedrals. +Many faults might be found with that face, yet it was one that gained +in attraction at every glance. + +The young girl advanced so rapidly down the rooms that she was standing +within a few feet of the two gentlemen before she could plan a swift +retreat. + +A vivid, painful blush overspread her face, and she stood as if either +transformed into some beautiful sculptured image, or absolutely unable +to decide which would be the worst of evils--to remain or to fly. + +She turned the full luster of her translucent eyes upon Captain +Desfrayne, as some lovely wild creature of the forest might gaze +dismayed at the sight of a hunter, and then recoiled. + +Lady Quaintree rose, and quickly moved a few steps, as if to intercept +her, and said: + +“My dear, don’t run away. Frank Amberley knows all about the tableau +for which you are obliged to prepare. I thought you would have come +down before to let me see how the dress suited; but I suppose that +abominable Lagrange has been late, as usual. My dear Lois, I am dying +with curiosity. These gentlemen--Captain Desfrayne and Mr. Frank +Amberley--have come to tell you some wonderful piece of business, and I +want to know what it is as soon as possible. Pray stop. You will only +lose time if you go to change your dress.” + +“I beseech you, madam, let me go,” pleaded Lois Turquand, troubled +by her unforeseen, embarrassing situation--strangely troubled by the +steadfast gaze which Paul Desfrayne, in spite of himself, fixed upon +her. + +“Nonsense! You must hear what they have to say. I feel puzzled, and +anxious to know.” + +Lois vainly tried to avoid that singular, inexplicable look, which +seemed to master her. Had she not been so suddenly taken at a +disadvantage, she would have repelled it with displeasure. As it was, +she had a curious sense of being mesmerized. She ceased to urge her +entreaty for permission to depart, and stood motionless, though her +color fluctuated every instant. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LOIS TURQUAND’S ALTERED FORTUNE. + + +Frank Amberley looked at Captain Desfrayne, who drew back several +steps--for neither had seated himself, although Lady Quaintree had +signed to them to do so. + +It was evident that Captain Desfrayne would not take the initiative, so +Frank Amberley was obliged to explain--more to Lady Quaintree than to +her protégée--that Miss Turquand had been left heiress to a fortune of +one hundred and thirty thousand pounds. + +“To just double that sum in reality; but there are certain conditions +attached to the larger amount, which must be fulfilled, or the second +moiety is forfeited,” Mr. Amberley continued, looking down, his voice +not quite so steady as it had been when he began. “I have had a copy of +the will prepared, which Miss Turquand might like to read before seeing +the original.” + +He had a folded paper, tied with red tape, in his hand, which he placed +on a table close by Lois. As he did so, his eyes rested for a moment +upon her with a strange, mingled expression of passionate love and +profound despair, at once pathetic and painful. + +The young girl still stood immovable, as if in a dream. Her luminous +eyes turned upon the document; but she did not attempt to touch it, or +show in any way that she really comprehended what had been said, except +by that one swift glance of her eyes upon the paper. + +“This gentleman--Captain Desfrayne--has been appointed by Mr. Gardiner, +Miss Turquand’s trustee.” + +The brilliant eyes were turned for an instant to the countenance of +Captain Desfrayne, and then withdrawn; while still deeper crimson tides +flooded over the lovely face. + +“How very extraordinary!” said Lady Quaintree, as if scarcely able to +understand. “How _very_ singular!” she repeated emphatically. + +“I am truly glad,” she cried, pulling the cloudy figure toward her, +and kissing the fair young face. “So my little girl is a wealthy +heiress. What will you do with all your money? Go and live in ease, +and give fêtes and garden-parties, and have revels at Christmas, and +amateur theatricals, and knights and ladies gay, or devote yourself to +schools and almshouses, as a favorite hobby? Come, a silver sixpence +for your thoughts.” + +Lois, standing perfectly still, leaning against the table, with her +hand resting on the carved back of her patroness’ chair, glanced at her +ladyship, at the lawyer, and at Captain Desfrayne. Then the soft, sweet +eyes drooped. She made no answer. It was impossible to tell from her +face what her feelings might be. + +Lady Quaintree was greatly disappointed by this cool reception of the +marvelous news, which had thrown herself into a state of pleasurable +excitement. She turned to her nephew with eager curiosity. + +“Can you tell me a few morsels of the contents of this wonderful will?” +she asked. “Who made the will? Who has left all this money to my dear +girl? What was he? and why has he been so generous?” + +Lady Quaintree had been quite fond of her companion; but this sudden +access of affection was due to the delightful intelligence brought by +the lawyer. + +“The will would explain more clearly than I could do all particulars,” +Frank Amberley replied. + +He felt it was absolutely impossible at that moment to enter into any +elucidation whatever, or even to give an outline of the conditions of +the will. + +Lois extended the document toward Lady Quaintree. + +“Is it very long?” her ladyship demanded, glancing at Frank Amberley. + +“It may take you five minutes to read it,” he answered. + +She unfolded the paper, and ran her eye rapidly over the contents. Not +one of the others uttered a word--not one ventured to look up, but +remained as if carved out of stone. + +Lois found it well-nigh impossible to analyze her sensations; but +certainly the predominant one was that she must be in a dream. She +had every reason to be happy with her protectress, who was as kind as +if the near ties of relationship bound them together; but it would +probably be quite useless to search the world for the girl of eighteen +who could hear unmoved that she had suddenly become the owner of a +large fortune, especially if that girl happened to be in a dependent +position, and to move constantly amid persons with whom money, rank, +and fashion were paramount objects of devotion. + +She was the daughter of a court embroideress, who had earned about four +hundred a year by her labors and those of her assistants; but Mrs. +Turquand had never been able--or thought she had not been--to lay by +any portion of her income as a provision for her child. Lady Quaintree +had always liked Lois as a child, and at the death of her mother, three +years since, had taken her to be useful companion and agreeable company +for herself. + +That Lois had any expectations from any quarter whatever, nobody ever +for a moment supposed. Everybody of Lady Quaintree’s acquaintance +knew and liked the young girl, who was so pretty, so obliging, so +sweet-tempered. That she should now be suddenly transformed into +the inheritress of great wealth was something like an incident in a +fairy-tale. + +Mr. Amberley’s reflections were easily defined. He had for months +past loved this young girl, though he had never yet had sufficient +courage to declare as much, for she seemed totally unconscious of his +preference, and, while certainly not distant nor icy with him, never +gave him the slightest reason to suppose that she ever as much as +remembered him when he was absent. He had, however, the satisfaction +of feeling sure that she cared for no one else. Never even remotely +had he hinted to Lady Quaintree his secret, being well aware she would +discountenance his suit, for many reasons. + +It was with the utmost bitterness of spirit that he had seen the girl +apparently removed from the possibility of his being able to pay court +to her; and at the same time not only delivered into the sole charge of +a probable rival, but bound by the most stringent injunctions to marry +a young, handsome, and in every way attractive, man--a man whom he +judged, in his own distrustful humility, much more likely to seize the +fancy of a young beauty than he himself was. + +Paul Desfrayne’s thoughts were utterly confused. Since entering the +room, he had scarcely spoken three sentences, and he heartily wished +himself anywhere rather than in this softly illumined suite of rooms, +facing this beautiful girl with the angelic face, whom he had been +commanded and largely bribed to fall in love with and make his wife. + +He dreaded the moment when Lady Quaintree should drop her gold-rimmed +eye-glass, and the silence should be broken. At the same time, the +thought of his mother never left him. What would she say when she +learnt the contents of this terrible will? Only too well he foresaw the +scenes he should be obliged to go through. As for this girl herself, +lovely as some poet’s vision, he resolved to see as little of her +as might be compatible with the fulfilment of his legal duties and +responsibilities toward her. What a pitiful coward he felt himself! Why +could he not tell the truth, and save so much possible future suffering? + +Lady Quaintree read through the closely written document, and then, +folding it up, stared at each of the three persons before her, with +an almost comic expression of amazement upon her fair, unwrinkled +countenance. + +“Captain Desfrayne,” she said, smiling as she held out her hand, “I +trust you will be pleased to remain with us this evening as long as +your inclinations or other engagements permit. I expect some very +pleasant friends--some really distinguished persons, with whom you may +either already be well acquainted, or whom you might not object to +meet.” + +There was such a stately yet gracious dignity in her manner that +Captain Desfrayne caught the infection, and bowed over the delicate +white hand with almost old-fashioned chivalric courtesy. + +“You will pardon my leaving you two gentlemen alone for a few minutes,” +she added. “Lois, my love, I will go with you to your room.” + +Lady Quaintree quitted the salon, followed by the beautiful figure, +clad in its cloudy robes of ethereal white. + +“Let us go at once to your apartment, my child,” she said, leading the +way. + +Her eyes were bright with eager excitement, for she was surprised and +pleased by the totally unexpected change in her young companion’s +fortunes; and she loved the girl so much that she was rejoiced to see +her rise from her inferior station to one of wealth--to see so fair and +sunny a prospect opening before her. + +She glided up the stairs with a step so alert that forty years seemed +lifted from her age; and in a minute they were within the precincts of +the pretty room which was the domain of Lois Turquand. + +“My love,” Lady Quaintree said, closing the door with a careful hand, +“I am so pleased I can hardly tell you how much. You, no doubt, wish to +know the contents of this wondrous paper? My dear, it is as interesting +as a fairy-tale. You are a good girl, and deserve all the good fortune +Heaven may please to send you.” + +She kissed the young girl’s forehead very kindly. Lois returned the +caress with passionate warmth, and laid her head down upon her old +friend’s shoulder. + +“Lois, before I give you this to read, I want you to do something, +which, perhaps, you might feel too agitated afterward to manage.” + +“What is that, dear madam?” + +“You must not call me ‘madam’ or ‘my lady’ any more, pet. I want you to +change this fantastical dress for your black silk, and wear my pretty +jet ornaments, and also a pair of my white gloves, with the black silk +embroidery which I bought in Paris. I think it is a mark of respect you +owe to your benefactor. Did you ever see or hear of him?” + +“Never, madam.” + +“Shall I ring for Justine to help you in dressing?” + +A faint smile dimpled the corners of the young girl’s lips as she shook +her head. + +Lady Quaintree looked about for the bell, then laughed at her +own forgetfulness. From this little chamber--formerly a small +dressing-room--there was no communication with the servants’ domain. +Her ladyship, taking the copy of the will with her, crossed to her own +apartment, only a few steps distant. + +When she returned, she was followed by her waiting-maid, who was +carrying a package of black laces; a pair of gloves; a filmy lace +handkerchief, on which was some black edging; and a black fan--one +of Lady Quaintree’s treasures, for it had once belonged to Marie +Antoinette. + +In those few minutes Lois had thrown off her cloudy robes, divested +herself completely of her assumed character of Undine, and donned a +handsome black silk evening-dress. + +Lady Quaintree was carrying a black-and-gold case, which she placed +upon the dressing-table and opened. It contained a complete set of jet +ornaments. + +She ordered Justine to unfasten the black lace already upon Miss +Turquand’s robe, and replace it by that in her custody. + +The black lace selected by Lady Quaintree was, Justine knew, very +valuable, and the richest she had; the jet ornaments, she also knew, +her ladyship prized; so, great was her secret amazement not only to see +Miss Turquand habited in black, when the blue and white she had meant +to wear was lying outspread upon a couch, but at the lively interest +displayed by Lady Quaintree in the somber metamorphosis, and perhaps, +above all, at the fact of the stately dame being in Miss Turquand’s +apartment. + +The discreet Frenchwoman, however, said not one word; but, taking out +needles and thread from a “pocket-companion,” she dexterously obeyed +the orders received from her mistress. + +Lois was so astounded by the news she had heard that she was incapable +of doing anything but what, in fact, she had already done, implicitly +followed directions. She permitted Lady Quaintree to clasp the jet +suite upon her neck and arms, and in her ears, and looked at the +gloves, and handkerchief, and fan with the glance of one walking in her +sleep. + +Justine, wondering, though she did not utter a syllable, was dismissed, +and Lady Quaintree desired Lois to sit down. + +“We have already been absent nearly twenty minutes,” she said, +consulting her tiny watch. “I wished to arrange your toilet before I +told you what is really in this will. Perhaps you think I treat you as +a child; but you are already agitated, and when you know the eccentric +nature of the conditions, you will, probably, be much startled. Pray +read it, my dear.” + +Lois did so, with changing color and flashing eyes. When she finished, +she threw the paper upon the table, and, rising from her chair, walked +to and fro, as if under the influence of uncontrollable emotion. Then +she abruptly paused before Lady Quaintree, extending her hands as if in +protest. + +“Why should this person,” she exclaimed, “of whom I never heard--of +whom I knew nothing till this hour--why should this stranger have left +me all this money, and why bind me with such conditions? I feel as if I +could not, ought not, to accept the gift he has given me. He must have +been a lunatic!” + +“Softly, softly, softly, my dearest! You are talking at random.” + +“How can I face that man again?--he must know, of course,” Lois +continued vehemently, referring to Paul Desfrayne. + +“We shall see more clearly after a while, Lois. Certainly, I am +surprised by this affair; but perhaps my nephew, Amberley, may be able +to enlighten us a little more. Come, let us go down. They will wonder +if I, at least, keep them waiting much longer.” + +“No--no, dear Lady Quaintree. I cannot go now. I feel as if I must +shrink into the earth rather than meet them again,” said Lois, +recoiling as Lady Quaintree offered her hand. + +“Nonsense! I did not think my quiet, soft-spoken Lois was made of such +silly stuff.” + +“Dear Lady Quaintree, I really _cannot_ go now. Perhaps, when the +rooms are full of people, and I can hope to escape observation, I may +venture.” + +“Will you faithfully promise to come when I send for you--or, at least, +in half an hour?” + +“Yes--yes, dear madam.” + +Lady Quaintree was obliged to be satisfied. In her secret heart she +was sorry for the conditions which so horrified her young friend. + +For a vast change had taken place in her plans since she had heard +her nephew tell his news. What she had dreaded and feared hitherto +she would now gladly see accomplished; but here were difficulties, +apparently insurmountable, placed in her way. + +As she paused for a moment on the threshold, she glanced at the +statuesque figure of Lois. A curious, superstitious feeling crept over +her, and a thrill of painful presentiment passed through her heart. + +The young girl had entered the room only some twenty or thirty minutes +before, arrayed like some glittering creature of light, sparkling with +diamonds, placed, by desire of Lady Quaintree, among the gauzy folds +of her semitransparent robes to represent drops of water, her superb, +sun-bright hair floating like a halo of glory about her, radiant as a +spirit. + +Now she was draped in somber black, her aspect changed as by an +enchanter’s wand. Her spiritual beauty did not suffer, it is true. +She looked, if possible, more lovely thus shrouded; but--but still, +Lady Quaintree wished that the news had not involved donning signs of +mourning, and thought that people had no business to dictate terms of +love and marriage from the grave. + +“An unlucky omen!” she thought, gathering up her violet skirts and +embroidered jupons. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A TRIPLE BONDAGE. + + +Lady Quaintree had hoped to glean a little more information from the +two gentlemen, for she was as much excited as if she herself had been +the inheritrix of the eccentric old man’s money. + +But she was disappointed. Scarcely had she returned to the principal +drawing-room, when five or six guests arrived, and from that moment +people came pouring into the salons until there was a well-bred, +well-dressed throng. + +Lois did not wait to be sent for. She came in with a quiet, calm +dignity of manner, the color a shade deeper on her cheeks, and a +feverish glitter in her eyes, but otherwise self-possessed, as usual. + +Her marked change of costume attracted universal attention, and many +inquiries were made. Lady Quaintree had the supreme felicity of being +able to diffuse the information just received through a dozen different +channels, whereby she was sure it would permeate to society in general. + +“I should not have permitted her to appear had this been a +dancing-party,” she explained. “But it is so quiet, and I am unable to +manage without her. + +“She is quite like a daughter to me,” she went on, thoroughly believing +her own enthusiastic speeches, and feeling a maternal pride swell her +bosom. A tear or so lightly brushed away by her lace handkerchief would +have added to the effect, but tears come and go at will, not at the +command of those who would summon or dismiss them. + +Miss Turquand sat so tranquil in appearance, and bore the masked +battery of curious eyes so calmly, that some people who listened with +amazement were indignant. Lady Quaintree’s companion did not seem +conscious that anything unusual had happened. Two or three times +she glanced through the veil of silken lashes which fringed her +translucent gray eyes at Captain Desfrayne, but it was a glance swift +as lightning, not betraying the most transient glimpse of the strange, +mingled feelings of resentment and lively interest aroused in her heart +by the claim made upon her in behalf of the handsome young officer. + +Captain Desfrayne carefully avoided looking at his beautiful charge. +He seemed to be profoundly indifferent on the subject of Mr. Vere +Gardiner’s whims and fancies, and neither approached Miss Turquand nor +evinced the slightest desire to become acquainted with her. + +Frank Amberley and Lady Quaintree thought this strange, but neither +showed that they were in any way conscious of Captain Desfrayne’s cold +indifference toward the young girl. + +Paul Desfrayne found some people among the crowd whom he knew, and +was introduced to some others by his hostess, or by Frank Amberley, +so he ought not to have experienced the profound sense of ennui and +oppression which made him long to be anywhere but in this brilliant +throng. + +Lady Quaintree at last seized an opportunity of questioning her nephew +on the subject of the mysterious old man, and in a few words he gave +her as much information as he thought advisable. + +“How extraordinary!” she said. “What a very romantic case! I have +no objection to his leaving a fine fortune to my dear little girl, +but I think he should not have hampered her with such disagreeable +conditions. He seems to have been remarkably eccentric.” + +“I knew scarcely anything of him,” Mr. Amberley replied. “I think, +certainly, it was an odd thing for him to lay such an embargo on the +liberty of two young people, and I doubt not but the expression of his +wishes will most probably be the means of hindering them from----” + +He abruptly paused. His aunt looked searchingly at him, anxious to +learn his secret thoughts, for more reasons than one. + +“I know Lois will never be the one to love when she is ordered to +dispose of her affections,” she said, very quietly. “And I am +perfectly convinced she will never marry any one whom she does not +love.” + +A most wonderfully indiscreet question--one which he knew +Lady Quaintree would not answer, but which he longed to ask, +nevertheless--trembled on the lips of the young lawyer, yet he could +not form the necessary words. He was about to ask: + +“Do you think she cares for any one at present?” But Lady Quaintree was +called away before he could muster sufficient presence of mind even to +debate with himself whether it were possible to as much as hint such a +query. + +Lois’ opinion of Paul Desfrayne, gathered from those fugitive glances, +was that she could never like him even as a friend. He seemed so cold, +so self-absorbed, so haughty, that her sense of antagonism deepened. +The strange, bewildering sense of magnetic attraction which had fallen +upon her during the first few moments of their unexpected meeting had +faded away, to be replaced by a firmly rooted conviction that she +could never entertain even the mildest liking for this almost stern, +melancholy looking guardian. + +Paul Desfrayne’s idea of Lois--at whom he had, indeed, hardly glanced +at all--was that, while beautiful as a statue, she was as icy as if +carved from marble. + +Deeper and darker grew the cloud upon the young man’s brow; and at +length, finding a favorable chance to escape unseen, he quitted +the softly illumined drawing-room, wherein he had deemed himself a +prisoner; and with a slow step he descended the wide, richly carpeted +staircase, revolving thoughts evidently not too pleasing. + +He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when a figure, radiant as +Venus herself, alighted from a brougham at the door, and swept over the +threshold, in all the pride and glory of the most brilliant and latest +Parisian toilet. + +It was the woman who had been sitting in the balcony in Porchester +Square the previous evening, when the weary pedestrian had stopped +Captain Desfrayne, and implored his pity. + +Almost at the moment when she alighted, she was met by a young man, who +was about to enter the mansion. + +This young man was Lady Quaintree’s only son--a fair, slender, rather +foppish young fellow, with a pale, interesting face, and a pretty, +graceful figure. + +The attention of the resplendent creature in pink satin and white +lace was turned smilingly on this young man, who stepped eagerly +forward, and offered her his arm; otherwise she must have seen Captain +Desfrayne, who gazed at her as people are supposed to stare at specters. + +A few muttered, half-broken words escaped Paul Desfrayne’s lips, and he +looked hurriedly about, with the air of an animal at bay. Then, swiftly +turning, as the two gay, laughing and flirting apparitions came up the +hall, he threw aside a crimson velvet portière, and plunged recklessly +into a room close at hand. + +It was a moderate-sized sitting-room, flooded with a soft, pure light, +and deliciously cool in contrast to the heated salons above. + +Paul Desfrayne was about to congratulate himself on the retired nook +into which he had managed to tumble; but almost at the instant when +he entered, he heard a silvery, musical voice, sounding so as to +evidence that the person who owned it was rapidly approaching from a +conservatory opening on the room--the voice of his mother, speaking in +animated conversation. + +It was impossible to retreat, though he would gladly have avoided even +his idolized mother at that moment. Nay, she was just then the last +being he desired to see. + +She would naturally be surprised to meet him here, for until this +evening he had scarcely known anything of Lord or Lady Quaintree. + +The clustered lights above the doorway, half-hidden as they were by +climbing exotics trained in prodigal profusion about slender columns, +shed their glowing beams upon an animated face and superbly handsome +figure, as Mrs. Desfrayne appeared, arrayed, as was her wont, with +faultless taste. Her companion was Lord Quaintree, the famous judge--a +tall, noble old Englishman. + +“I am free to confess, my lord,” she was saying, “that I do not at all +approve of the presence of these singing-women at reunions such as this +of to-night. They are very well in their proper places, these people.” +It would be impossible to give any idea of the insolent disdain with +which these words were uttered. “But they ought not to be allowed to +mix with----” + +She suddenly paused, as she caught sight of Paul, and, in her +amazement, stood still, gazing upon him with an expression of blank +astonishment. Half-angry with herself for being so surprised, she felt +that she was accidentally placed in an almost ludicrous position for +the moment; yet she could not as much as speak a word. + +Captain Desfrayne, for his part, could not have uttered one syllable +if his life had depended on it. He had never, in all his days, felt so +completely at a nonplus--so forlorn, so distracted, as he did at this +instant. A terrible scene he knew was at hand, and he could not tell +what might be the result. + +Lord Quaintree looked with surprise from one to the other, not being +able to comprehend what was passing before his eyes. He had never seen +Captain Desfrayne, and could not guess why Mrs. Desfrayne should be +thus betrayed into so singular a display of emotion. Conscious that +probably he might be a little in the way, he yet did not know how to +move himself off the stage with his ordinary easy grace. + +Mrs. Desfrayne was the first to speak. She exclaimed: + +“Paul!” + +Captain Desfrayne bowed. + +“At your service, madam,” he said, very simply. + +“I was not aware----Lord Quaintree, my son--my only son--Captain +Desfrayne.” + +Lord Quaintree smiled, and held out his hand. He saw that something was +amiss, without knowing what. + +“I hope to see you presently, Captain Desfrayne,” he said, with his +pleasant, urbane manner. “I must show myself up-stairs at once, or my +lady will think I have run away.” + +He left the room, surmising that the two would greatly prefer being +left together. But for very shame’s sake, Paul would have caught him by +the sleeve, and detained him as a temporary shield. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +PAUL’S GALLING SHACKLES. + + +“You are surprised to see me here to-night, Mimi,” Paul Desfrayne +said, using an old childish pet-name that always disarmed his mother. +“I came here with a friend to see Lady Quaintree”--he hesitated +painfully--“on--on business.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne opened her big blue eyes, and looked him straight in the +face. A spasm of pique passed through her heart. + +“You did not know that _I_ was acquainted with Lady Quaintree?” she +remarked, half-sarcastically, opening and shutting her fan with a +movement which he knew well of old as indicating vexation. She was +angry that he had come hither with some friend unknown to her, instead +of asking her for an introduction, and telling her of his business. + +“My dear mother, I did not know until this very afternoon that I was to +come here. I remembered, when I heard the name, that you had spoken of +her. It was she who lent you the opera-box last night, was it not?” + +“Well--well, it does not signify. I must not be inquisitive,” said Mrs. +Desfrayne, confident that she must learn all sooner or later. “Have +you heard or seen anything of the young lady you spoke of yesterday +evening?” + +“I have.” + +“You have?” cried Mrs. Desfrayne, drawing a step or two nearer to him. +“What is she like? Where does she live? Is she pretty? What is she?” + +Captain Desfrayne paused for an instant, as if perplexed at such a +volley of questions. + +“Her name is Lois Turquand, and she is the companion of Lady +Quaintree,” he then very quietly replied. + +Mrs. Desfrayne retreated several steps, as if confounded. + +“You are jesting!” she angrily exclaimed, unable to credit that she had +heard aright. + +“I presume you have seen the young lady?” + +“Miss Turquand!” Mrs. Desfrayne slowly repeated--“Lois Turquand! Oh, it +is impossible!” + +The information did not seem to afford her much pleasure, and there was +a visible expression of blank disappointment upon her face. + +The truth--or part of the truth--was that Mrs. Desfrayne had no great +liking for Lois Turquand. By nature aristocratic, proud as a duchess of +Norman descent, she cared not for persons beneath her in station, while +winning and all that was gracious to those in her own rank or above her. + +To Lady Quaintree, wife of the world-famed lawyer, she had ever paid +eager court; but Miss Turquand, the daughter of an embroideress, +a penniless nobody, she had always politely ignored. When her son +had told her of the strange will which had placed him in such an +unexpectedly advantageous position, she had built, with feminine +imaginative rapidity and skill, sparkling castles in the traitorous +air. All her life she had yearned to mix freely in society--she longed +to be a leader of fashion, a star in the hemisphere of the beau monde; +but her income was limited. Her husband, a colonel in the army, had +died almost a poor man, leaving her some six hundred a year, and to +her son an equal pittance--for such she considered it, measured by her +desires and wants. She was still young and most beautiful when left a +widow, and might have married again advantageously, but her overweening +ambition had induced her to reject more than one excellent offer, and +now it was too late to retrieve these errors of judgment--though she +still had her secret plans and schemes. + +Under a fair and smiling mask she hid many little feminine piques and +spites, and one of her pet “aversions” happened to be Miss Turquand. +She could hardly pardon the girl her roseate youth, her fresh, piquant +loveliness, her grace, spontaneous as that of a wood-nymph. For some +reason, unexplainable even to herself, she always experienced a +horribly galling sense of being old, and world-worn, and artificial, +in presence of Lois Turquand, and it created a small vindictive +sense of envy and spite that augured ill for any future attempt at +conciliation. Her short-lived dream of taking the young person left +in her son’s charge in hand, and shining in society by means of a +reflected light, was at an end. + +She could have better endured to hear that the legatee was a plain +young woman, in a vastly inferior station. It was as if her son had +held a draft of gall and wormwood to her lips, and asked her to swallow +it. + +“It is incredible!” she said, after a brief pause, during which she +kept her eyes fixed upon her son’s face. + +“You have certainly surprised me,” she added, slightly shrugging her +shoulders. “Though why I should feel surprise, I cannot tell. It is +absurd, I have no doubt. So Miss Turquand has become a young woman of +property. I long ago was determined not to be astonished at anything, +and I take a fresh resolution from to-night. Was the person who left +her this money a relative?” + +“No.” + +“Not a relative! May I ask what----Am I indiscreet in asking for any +particulars?” + +Paul Desfrayne knew that sooner or later his mother must become +acquainted with everything that the will contained. It was better to +take things with a good grace, and let her hear now, than to shrink +and keep silence, or grant half-confidences, and make bad worse, by +appearing to make a mystery of what was apparently a simple matter. + +“The old gentleman of whom I was speaking to you last night--Mr. Vere +Gardiner--has left Miss Turquand one hundred and thirty thousand pounds +unconditionally. He has left me ten thousand in the same way, but----” + +With an effort he rapidly told her the general contents of the will. + +“You marry Miss Turquand!” almost angrily cried Mrs. Desfrayne, +flirting her fan backward and forward with a nervous movement. She had +seated herself, in her agitation, while Paul remained standing a few +steps from her. + +“Such are the terms of the will. If she dies before the three years +have expired, I am to receive--I forget how many thousands.” + +“Have you seen her?” + +“I have.” + +“How do you like her?” + +“Not at all, as far as I can judge.” + +A smile, almost of gratification, rippled over the fair, smooth face of +his mother at this admission. She was on the point of exclaiming: “I am +glad of it!” but checked herself, and remarked instead: + +“How is it that I find you here alone?” + +These words recalled Captain Desfrayne to his exact position. He felt +as if he could have given worlds to speak with the old freedom to the +woman who loved him so fondly--could he but explain to her what weighed +upon his life like a constant nightmare. But it was impossible. He was +a coward, and dared not face her inevitable anger. + +“I was going away just as I saw you,” he replied, with apparent +tranquillity, though his heart for a moment had beat wildly at the +thought of making his confession. “The rooms were frightfully hot +up-stairs, and this place seemed so cool and inviting, I lingered.” + +“You will take me up-stairs, however. Does Lady Quaintree know you are +my son?” + +Captain Desfrayne had not thought of it. + +“I have such an intolerable headache!” he pleaded, anxious to escape; +and his temples throbbed to agony. “I really cannot stay.” + +“That is very unusual with you, having a headache,” said his mother. +“What is the cause of it?” + +The young man shrugged his shoulders without replying in words. + +His mother urged him, only half-believing in his excuse, to escort her +up-stairs. She had many reasons for desiring his company. Although it +was a little vexatious, perhaps, for so young-looking a woman to be +attended by a son who seemed nearly as old as she did herself, she +always wished for his escort. He was so handsome, so dignified, so +chivalrous, gallant, devoted, in his behavior--there was the mother’s +pride and glory to atone in a measure for the beauty’s mortified +vanity. At this moment she wished to see him with Miss Turquand, to +judge how far affairs were likely to go; she wanted to hear Lady +Quaintree’s opinion, and see how Miss Turquand carried herself beneath +the golden blaze of her new prosperity. But it was in vain she urged +him, and she was piqued by this odd refusal. He was determined to go at +once. + +“Well, you must call to-morrow, Paul. I am dying with curiosity to hear +all the rest, and your opinion, and so on.” + +Captain Desfrayne escaped. The balmy air cooled his fevered pulses, and +he walked rapidly away into the darkness of the summer’s night. + +“Good heavens, what an escape!” he muttered. “I don’t know what +earthly inducement could have impelled me to go up-stairs. My poor +mother! What an ungrateful villain I feel in deceiving her! It was +an accursed day when that brilliant butterfly crossed my path, and +led me away as easily as ever schoolboy was lured into a mad chase on +an idle afternoon, or peasant lout drawn into pursuit of a gleaming +Jack-o’-lantern. There is no peace, no happiness for me henceforth. +I sometimes wish my mother knew all. It would be an infinite weight +lifted off my mind; and yet I dare not--I dare not tell her.” + +The desire to be rid of this painful secret rose so strongly within his +breast, that when he had traversed several streets, he abruptly paused +to reflect on the advisability of going to the house in Porchester +Square, where his mother was staying, and awaiting her return, with the +object of telling her precisely how he was situated. + +“No,” he at length decided. “I _cannot_ do so to-night. To-morrow, +perhaps, I shall be more courageous. If this unlucky piece of ‘good +fortune,’ as I suppose some folks would style it, had not occurred, I +might have borne my secret some few years longer--maybe forever--safe +locked within my breast, there to gnaw away my life at its ease. But +this misguided old man’s absurd whim has been the fatal means of +letting in a flood of misery now and in the future upon my most unhappy +head. It is well that the girl is cold and seemingly impassive. It is +also providential that she has powerful friends, who will render my +duties merely nominal.” + +The sleepy quiet of the aristocratic street through which he was +passing with slow, undecided steps was broken by swift-rolling wheels. + +The gleaming lamps of a dashing brougham threw long gleams of light +through the semiobscurity of the somber thoroughfare, and the champ of +the horses’ feet, the jingle of the silver harness, evidenced that the +vehicle belonged to some one of wealth, if not of position. + +Paul Desfrayne’s glance was mechanically attracted to this handsome +equipage, unconsciously to himself. + +As it passed him, the face of a woman appeared at the window--the face +of Madam Guiscardini thus coming before him like an apparition for the +second time this night. + +Her face looked like some beautiful pictured head painted on a dark +background. She did not see him, but spoke to the coachman, apparently +giving him some new direction. Glancing forth like a vision, she as +rapidly vanished again, and in a moment the brougham had swept off down +one of the side streets. + +Paul Desfrayne struck his hands together with a gesture of despair. + +“She seems to haunt me to-night like some evil spirit,” he muttered. +“I did not know she was in London. Her face fills me with affright and +a sense of coming danger. Can it be true that I once fancied I loved +this woman, and that I let her crush my life forevermore with her cold, +pitiless hand? Can it be that I am her bond-slave--no longer free to +do more than move in the one dull round day by day, with these galling +shackles about me, forced to relinquish all the bright hopes of love +and happiness that bring sunshine about other men? Oh! fool, fool, fool +that I have been!” he cried, aloud. + +Then he once more quickened his steps, as if to escape from himself. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AN UNINTENTIONAL CUT. + + +Mrs. Desfrayne then went up-stairs unattended--an arrangement not at +all to her liking, for she would fain still retain all the airs and +customs of a beauty yet in the heyday of sunshiny existence. + +She swept one searching glance round the suite of crowded rooms, +seeking the unwelcome figure of Lois Turquand. + +It was the work of some minutes discovering Lois. The young girl stood +a little apart from the throng, her graceful head slightly bent as she +listened to the earnest words of a stately dowager, who was probably +congratulating her upon her change of fortune. + +There was a dignity and a certain consciousness in Lois’ bearing which +Mrs. Desfrayne had never noticed with her before. She reproached +herself now for having been so uniformly cold and frigid with the girl, +for she adored wealth, and she judged by herself that it was impossible +the new-made heiress could overlook or forgive all the petty slights +she had suffered from the insolent widow. + +Mrs. Desfrayne was going to address Lady Quaintree, when Miss Turquand +crossed quickly, not perceiving her. She laid a detaining hand on the +young girl’s arm. + +“I am delighted to hear of your good fortune, my dear,” she said, with +a little perceptible embarrassment. + +Lois raised her clear eyes, and looked for a moment into the suavely +smiling face before her with an expression difficult to define. Then +she bowed: it was a perfectly gracious but decidedly icy inclination. +She did not answer in words; but, with an ambiguous smile, passed on. + +Never for an instant could Mrs. Desfrayne have imagined in her wildest +fancies that the tables could have been so completely turned upon her. + +It was a fine moral lesson, only, unfortunately, it fell short of +its mark; and the coldness of Miss Turquand, partly unintentional and +partly arising from habit, made the haughty woman of the world detest +yet more the girl whom she had hitherto simply ignored and noticed +as little as if she had been a piece of furniture of very ordinary +importance. + +Mrs. Desfrayne turned pale with rage. She almost wished the old man who +had made the eccentric will had been sunk to the bottom of the sea ere +he had committed his money and his ridiculous desires to paper. _That +girl_ the wife of her son! Truly, she had need be radiant with the +glitter of gold before she could possess any attractions in the eyes of +this proud and ambitious, yet narrow-minded, woman. + +Many mothers are quite willing to think with some complacence of +an ideal wife for their sons--a wife to be selected by themselves, +perhaps: a creature of the imagination. But when it comes to be a +matter of sober reality--when there is a real flesh-and-blood being, +not a stone ideal, set before them--why, it is a very different affair. + +Mrs. Desfrayne made her way to Lady Quaintree, and promised herself +that she would arrange for a long chat on this absorbing subject, if +she could persuade her good hostess to ask for her company in a drive +round the park. + +During the singing of some Italian duets by the artists who had been +gathered together for the night, she contrived to learn a good deal. + +One thing she accidentally ascertained which a little modified her +vague schemes and speculations. + +She discovered that hitherto Lady Quaintree had been in terror lest her +son Gerald should fall in love with Miss Turquand. Now this would be +the most desirable thing that could happen, even if the young girl were +shorn of half her newly acquired fortune. + +Lady Quaintree did not know she was betraying her secret wishes, but +Mrs. Desfrayne was very quick-witted, and at the same time a pattern of +tranquil discretion. + +Frank Amberley did not leave the charmed precincts of the house until +he could not stay any longer. The more the object of his passionate +attachment was withdrawn from his reach, the more mad did his longing +become to possess her. But he was an honorable man, and all should be +fair in the fight. + +He had closely watched Paul Desfrayne until that young man’s departure, +and the feeling of deep mistrust against him had painfully intensified. +It was with a profound sense of relief, however, that he found neither +Captain Desfrayne nor Lois apparently disposed to cultivate any +approach to acquaintanceship. + +For some time before the hour fixed for supper, he had hovered about +Lois, with the hope of being able to offer her his arm down-stairs. The +sharp eyes of Lady Quaintree were on the alert, unfortunately for the +success of his plans, and to his anger and mortification he saw Lois +assigned to a stranger. + +As he flung himself wearily into a hansom, and lighted his cigar for +consolation during his journey homeward, Frank Amberley had ample +subject-matter for meditation. + +Although not so bitter or remorseful, his thoughts were scarcely more +agreeable than those of Paul Desfrayne. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE NEW VALET. + + +Captain Desfrayne walked with hasty, irregular steps in the direction +of his own home. + +The servant who admitted him said that a person was waiting up-stairs, +being earnestly desirous of an interview. + +“I should not have let him wait, sir,” the man added apologetically, +“only he said he had an appointment with you for to-day, and seemed so +dreadfully disappointed because he didn’t see you.” + +Captain Desfrayne had altogether forgotten that he had desired the +Italian valet to call upon him. His conscience reproached him for what +he considered selfishness, in being so engrossed; and he hurried up to +his own apartments. + +The doors of the inner rooms were locked; but there was a pleasant +little antechamber, almost luxuriously furnished as a smoking-room. + +This was now fully lighted from a handsome chandelier; and standing at +the table in the center of the apartment was the tall, gaunt Italian +who had claimed Captain Desfrayne’s sympathy the evening before. + +The evening before! It seemed to Paul Desfrayne as if it must have been +months since he had gone through that short, half-smiling interview +with his mother. + +The table was scattered over with newspapers, magazines, French novels, +and other aids to kill time agreeably and intellectually at the same +time. + +As Captain Desfrayne entered, the Italian servant was looking at one of +the papers intently--so much absorbed that his left hand unconsciously +crushed it. + +It was that day’s issue of an illustrated paper. + +The entire page upon which the eyes of the man seemed fixed was +occupied by an oval-shaped portrait of a lady--of whom, Captain +Desfrayne could not discern. + +The fellow clenched his right hand, and shook it at the mute +representation of the beautiful woman, and muttered some words in +Italian, in so low a key that their import did not reach Captain +Desfrayne. + +The next moment the step of the latter made the valet start violently +and turn. He fumbled with the paper, and tried to turn over the pages, +but his hands were trembling so much that he was unable to do so; and +Captain Desfrayne was at the table before he could conceal what had so +much interested him. + +It was the engraved portrait of the beautiful singer who had been +sitting in the balcony in Porchester Square the evening before. + +Paul Desfrayne looked at the man, who had not had time to compose his +features. There was an expression of deadly hatred yet lingering upon +them, though he evidently tried hard to master his emotion. + +For an instant Captain Desfrayne felt an almost overwhelming desire to +speak to him about the signora; but a second thought determined him to +be silent, and appear not to have noticed the little mute scene. He +resolved, however, at all hazards, to engage this man in his service; +for his curiosity, if no deeper feeling, was strongly excited. + +“My good fellow,” he began, in a very kindly tone, “I am sincerely +sorry, but I totally forgot our arrangement. I had business of the +utmost importance to attend to, and so it slipped from my memory.” + +Gilardoni bowed very low, dexterously turning the paper as he did so. + +“I trust you will excuse the liberty I took in waiting for you, sir,” +he answered, with profound humility. “But I have no friend save you, if +I can dare to call you a friend.” + +Paul Desfrayne had resolved to take the fellow into his service, if he +were anything short of an escaped galley-slave. He did not tell him so, +however, but said very quietly: + +“I hope I may be able to show you some kindness, for you seem sorely in +need of it.” + +Gilardoni clasped his hands, and looked at the captain. + +“I will serve you truly and well, if you will let me,” he cried. + +“What recommendations--what credentials have you to show?” asked +Captain Desfrayne. + +The man eagerly unbuttoned his shabby, threadbare coat, and, diving his +thin fingers into an inner pocket, drew forth a bundle of letters and +papers. He chose one document, which he extended to Captain Desfrayne. + +“This is a written character from my poor master, sir. You knew his +writing--you will see what he says of me.” + +Captain Desfrayne took the envelope; and opening it, was about to +extract the enclosure, when a small, folded morsel of note-paper fell +out, and dropped on the table. Quick as lightning, Gilardoni snatched +it up--not rudely, but with a kind of panic expressed in his face and +in every gesture. + +Captain Desfrayne’s eye had caught sight of the characters before he +was aware that he was guilty of any possible indiscretion in looking +upon them. + +The blood rushed to his face, and then receded to his heart. Only too +easily did he recognize the ill-formed characters. It was the writing +of the woman who had influenced his life for evil--the beautiful +Signora Guiscardini. + +With infinite presence of mind, he affected not to have particularly +observed the stray, fluttering paper, and began to read the letter of +recommendation. + +More than ever, he had made up his mind to receive this man into his +service. He longed to ask him, then and there, bluntly, what the +mysterious tie might be that caused him to take so much interest in the +signora, and why he had a note written by her in his possession--a note +which he evidently feared any one else might see. + +He was unable to study the man’s face; for as he read the +recommendatory letter, he was conscious that the fellow’s keen eyes +were fixed upon him with a furtive anxiety. + +“When can you come to me?” he asked. + +A glitter as of tears of delight gleamed in those bright, half-hungry +eyes, as Gilardoni eagerly answered: + +“Any time. To-night, if you will, sir.” + +“Very well. So be it.” + +The little details of terms and so on were soon settled. Captain +Desfrayne unlocked the door leading to the inner apartments, and in a +very few minutes Gilardoni was occupied in noiselessly flitting about, +putting things straight with an almost womanly softness and dexterity. +Captain Desfrayne threw himself upon a sofa, lighted a cigar, and, +leaning back, watched him with a curiosity that was attaining an +uncomfortable height. + +“I would give a thousand pounds, if I were so rich, to know what link +there is between this poor wretch and the star singer,” he thought. +“But I am sure to know in time, I imagine, and I must not startle him. + +“Give me some of those papers that are lying on the table in the next +room,” he said, aloud. + +Gilardoni obeyed his orders with nimble alacrity, and lighted a +reading-lamp that stood on a table at the head of the couch. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +PLAYING AT CROSS-PURPOSES. + + +Captain Desfrayne selected a paper, and slowly turned over the pages +as he cut them. Some time elapsed before he spoke; for he could not +exactly frame words in which to put the question he meant to ask. + +“What part of Italy did you come from?” he inquired carelessly, +following the spiral line of cigar-smoke, as he breathed it from his +lips. + +Gilardoni looked at him with that furtive glance Captain Desfrayne had +already noticed; but replied, without seeming to hesitate: + +“From Florence, sir.” + +“Ah! Have you any relatives living?” + +“None, sir. Not one. My father and mother died when I was a young +child, leaving me to the care of a distant relative, who has since +died, and I never had either brothers or sisters.” + +The faint suspicion that had arisen in Paul Desfrayne’s mind that +the brilliant prima donna might be this fellow’s sister, was then +negatived. Probably, some humble lover of her early days, whom she had +despised, perhaps jilted? So superbly beautiful a creature, born in +an Italian village, must have had many adorers; and he knew her to be +arrogant and callous of other people’s feelings, and incredibly vain of +her own manifold attractions. + +“A countrywoman of yours,” he abruptly said, with an effort at smiling, +as he turned out the large, oval engraving of Madam Guiscardini. + +Gilardoni could not refuse to look; but he drew back his lips as some +animals do when in a fury. The action might pass for an affirmative +smile, but it was uglier than any frown. + +“Yes,” he curtly replied. + +“Did you know her?” + +Gilardoni did not respond this time; but gave his attention to a tall +vase, which he seemed to find in need of being relieved of the dust +that had accumulated round the flutings. + +Captain Desfrayne waited for a minute, and then repeated the question. + +“Why, sir, everybody knows her--everybody all over the world,” +Gilardoni answered, only half-turning round. + +He spoke with a strong effort to display indifference; but his manner +and voice both betrayed singular constraint. Paul Desfrayne was +prepared for this, and did not take any notice, but continued: + +“She was but a village girl, I suppose, when you knew her? They say she +is going to marry a Russian prince.” + +This time Gilardoni made a great effort, and, looking his new master +full in the face, with a vacant, uninterested expression, said: + +“Do they, sir?” + +There was no doubt that Gilardoni was on his guard, and would not +betray more than he could possibly help. + +Paul Desfrayne would not give up yet, for that eager desire to know +what secret reason this man had for hating Madam Guiscardini so +bitterly as he seemed to do was almost unconquerable. + +“They say,” he went on slowly, lowering his eyes, and taking a +tiny nail-knife from his waistcoat-pocket, to keep his glances +ostentatiously employed, “that the beautiful songstress is already +married.” + +These men were playing at cross-purposes. The master would have given +all he possessed in the world to have learned the secret which was of +no value whatever to the servant. Four monosyllables would have served +to unlock those dreary prison doors, and let in the light of possible +happiness upon that poor, weary soul, who was suffering the penalty of +the one mistake of his young life. + +Paul Desfrayne glanced for a swift instant at Gilardoni. The Italian’s +strong, nervous hands were clutched fast upon the top of the chair in +front of him; his face was alternately red and pale, and his eyes were +gleaming like fire. + +“Who told you that?” he demanded, in a sepulchral whisper. + +“I don’t know,” Captain Desfrayne answered, slightly shrugging his +shoulders. “People tell you all sorts of things about eminent singers +and public characters generally.” + +Gilardoni leaned his long, thin body forward, and stared his master in +the face. + +“Then where do they say her husband is?” he demanded, in the same +sibilant whisper. + +The mystery seemed clearer now. He was an old lover--perhaps once a +favorite--of madam’s. It was hardly worth the trouble of talking to the +fellow; and Paul Desfrayne felt half-enraged with himself for having +done so. But now that he wished the conversation ended, or, rather, +that he had not begun it, Gilardoni seemed determined to continue it. + +“Idle gossip all, I doubt not,” Captain Desfrayne said carelessly. +“You, who come from her native village, would be more likely than +anybody else to guess who the lucky individual might happen to be, +and where he might be found; for if she had married any one after she +quitted her village, it would have been somebody of importance.” + +“Somebody to talk about--somebody to be proud of,” Gilardoni cried, his +eyes flashing with a strange light. “If she had married a poor man----” + +He stopped suddenly; Captain Desfrayne laughed. + +“Yes,” he said. “If she had married a poor man, she would have hated +and despised him. Perhaps she did marry a poor man, and is not able to +marry the Russian prince,” he added, knocking the ash carelessly from +his cigar. + +“She would have hated and despised him,” Gilardoni repeated slowly, +with intense acrimony in his accent. “Do _you_ know whether she is +married or not?” he abruptly demanded, the keen, furtive, eager, +inquiring look in his eyes again. + +“Come, I think we have talked enough about Madam Guiscardini,” answered +Captain Desfrayne, in almost a harsh tone, rising from his couch. “I +don’t see that there can be any particular interest for you or for me +in the subject.” + +He felt quite sure now that this was some early lover, who so madly +adored the brilliant operatic star that he could not bear the thought +that she should belong to another, although she never could be his. +He felt disappointed and vexed with himself for permitting his eager +curiosity to carry him so far from his customary reserve and dignity +as to lead him into gossiping with his servant, a fellow whom until +yesterday he scarcely knew existed. + +In a softer tone he dismissed his new attendant, telling him some of +the people about the house would show him the room where he was to +sleep. Gilardoni quitted the room with a profound inclination, and +Captain Desfrayne, almost to his relief, was left alone. + +“The affair is very simple,” he muttered to himself, as he walked to +the window and threw it open to breathe the delicious air of the fair +June night--“very simple. These Italians are so susceptible, and so +revengeful. Probably _la_ Lucia flirted with him in her early days, +before the dawn of splendor and riches came upon her and led her to +think----Pooh! the story is commonplace to nausea--insipid. I don’t +care to know anything about her more than I already know. What good +would it do me?” + +He rested his head against the framework of the window, and gazed +abstractedly into the deserted street. The moon had risen in full +majesty, and was flooding every place with silver light. A party of +young men came along the pavement arm in arm, singing, as the students +in “Faust” came along that memorable night. + +Paul Desfrayne listened. The music was familiar to him; the words he +knew well, and could distinguish them. + +The first time Paul Desfrayne had heard Lucia Guiscardini sing upon +the stage, she had sung those verses. They haunted him yet. They now +brought back memories steeped in pain and bitterness. + +Wearied in body, sick at heart, he closed the window to shut out those +distasteful strains, and went with slow steps to his bedroom. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +BUILDING ON SAND. + + +Mrs. Desfrayne felt much as Alnaschar is described to have felt when +he found his radiant visions at an end. She had built up a perfect +Aladdin’s Palace of bright and fairy enjoyment, and now it had faded +completely. + +She was endowed with a lively imagination, and had rapidly conjured +up dreams as charming as they were baseless, like a boarding-school +girl building up a delicious _château d’Espagne_ with enameled bits of +painted cardboard. + +She had never liked the quiet, graceful girl who was such a favorite +with Lady Quaintree, and now she was in a fair way to hate her. What, +perhaps, angered her more than anything else was that this girl should, +of all others, have been selected by some one totally unknown to her to +be her son’s wife. + +She had no desire that Paul should marry, though she had a vague idea +that she would be glad if he discovered some wealthy and beautiful +heiress, and was successful in his suit. Jealous of any creature +who might threaten to divide with her the affections of her beloved +child, the thought that Lois Turquand should be her rival was gall +and wormwood. But she was keenly disappointed in her airy hopes and +expectations, raised on a foundation of sand as they had been, with no +knowledge whatever of the circumstances of the case. + +Like some foolish women, and also some silly men, she had a most +objectionable habit of judging and trying cases by the aid of +imagination alone, unassisted by common sense, and she was now +suffering under a result which a cooler head might have anticipated as +just possible. + +The more she thought about the matter, the more angry and disappointed +she became. Indeed, she reasoned herself into the notion that she had +been badly used somehow by somebody in some way, and resented her +injuries accordingly. + +Miss Turquand had possessed one friend more in the world than she +deemed herself entitled to count. She had now one enemy more since her +sudden rise to fortune. + +Of Mrs. Desfrayne Miss Turquand was certainly not thinking at this +exciting period. + +The young girl could scarcely realize the change in her destiny. It was +like a tale in the “Arabian Nights.” Hitherto her life had been almost +uneventful, and decidedly not unhappy. She had little occasion to look +forward to the future which lay before her, gray and shadowed, but not +dark. Her mistress, or patroness, was kind and fond of her--honestly +and truly fond, and she felt toward her as an affectionate daughter +might to an indulgent mother. Of a cheerful and contented disposition, +she had been well satisfied with her comfortable home and genial +surroundings. + +Love had not touched her, though probably she had cherished her roseate +fancies and preferences, like all other girls in their teens. Unlike +many of her sisterhood, however, she was gifted with a singularly clear +insight into character, and she was easily disenchanted. + +Lady Quaintree had met with her by accident, as it seemed. Mrs. +Turquand, left a widow at an early age, had turned her genius for +exquisite embroidery to account, and was able to acquire a large circle +of patrons. She was gentle, obliging, prompt; she engaged assistants, +and had made an income of about four hundred a year; but was unable to +provide for her only child, having to meet expenses large in proportion +to her earnings. By many little acts, she had pleased Lady Quaintree; +and at her death, Lois being about fourteen, her ladyship had taken the +child, who had not a relative in the world that she knew of, and from +that time the two had scarcely parted for a day, Lois being carefully +trained at home by excellent instructors. + +It was a trying test just now for the girl, passing through a fiery +furnace. For a girl of eighteen, beautiful, and not quite unconscious +of her beauty--for, from the nature of her position, she had been +exposed to the open fire of admiration and gallantry hardly known to +girls of a higher rank, surrounded by as sure a fence of protection as +any Chinese or Turkish princess--it was a terrible ordeal. + +The oddly devised will left Lady Quaintree in a flutter of pleasant +“bother,” for she took her protégée’s affairs in hand, and was +determined to nestle the girl under her motherly old wings more closely +than ever. The dead man’s whims interfered with a delightful little +plan which had spread into being within her constantly active brain, as +surely as they had marred Mrs. Desfrayne’s schemes. + +Her daughters were all married, and it was partly a feeling of +loneliness on their quitting the paternal roof that had induced her to +take Lois as her companion. + +She had one son. Mrs. Desfrayne did not adore her boy more devoutly +than Lady Quaintree worshiped the Honorable Gerald Danvers. In her eyes +he was the perfection of every manly grace. He was good-looking enough, +and he regarded himself as an absolute Adonis. He was good-natured when +his whims and fancies were not interfered with, and his great aim was +to go through life with as little trouble as possible. + +Lord Quaintree left the management of his son completely in the hands +of the mother. The Honorable Gerald had bitterly disappointed his hopes +and wounded his pride. He had built up a delightful little castle in +the air during the boyhood of this only son, which had been blown to +the winds when the Honorable Gerald entered his teens. + +He saw that nothing could be made of Gerald, and therefore agreed, +without a murmur, to the proposal of the mother that the youth should +become a soldier. However, he resented the denseness of this handsome, +empty pate as deeply as if it had been the poor boy’s fault instead of +his misfortune. + +The old man was not only a great lawyer and an intellectual giant, but +tender-hearted and religious, and took an interest in ragged-schools, +refuges, and various kindred institutions for the benefit of tangled +bundles of patchwork clothing. If it had been possible, he would have +put his boy into the church; but Gerald was fit for nothing. + +The Honorable Gerald imagined himself of a romantic turn of mind, and +he found Lois Turquand the prettiest and decidedly the most interesting +girl he had ever seen. So he took the idea into his head that he was in +love with her, and accordingly flirted in a languid manner with her, or +tried to do so. He did not pretend to have any “intentions,” and his +mother was certain there was not any particular danger. + +Lois treated his advances with supreme indifference. He liked to see +her open her great, serious eyes at some of his silly compliments, +half in astonishment, half in rebuke; he liked to flatter himself with +the notion that those large, brilliant, liquid eyes would soften into +ineffable sweetness if he condescended to throw himself at her feet. +He was indeed as far in love with her as he could be with anybody but +himself. + +That he should ever be so rash, so insane, as to marry her companion, +Lady Quaintree had not feared. Had he been a different kind of young +man, she might have dreaded the occasional intimate meeting between +these two. But there was no reason to be alarmed, and she sunned +herself in the bright, cheerful sweetness of the young girl’s company +without the slightest misgiving. Had she been obliged to choose any one +from love for her son’s wife, she would have gathered this charming +flower from the garden of girls. And now many would try to win Lois. +Not by birth, but by wealth, she was on a level with the sparkling +beauties about her, from whom she had hitherto been fenced off. + +Lois had another lover, though scarcely an acknowledged one: Frank +Amberley, Lady Quaintree’s nephew. The affection which had crept +into his heart day by day was strong as a current flowing down from +a mountain. From the day that Lois had entered the house of Lady +Quaintree--literally from that day, for he happened to be there the +very afternoon that the young child of fourteen had come hither--he had +watched her grow up, like some fair and beautiful plant. For four years +he had deeply loved this girl as he could never, never love again, he +knew. + +From the time he had discovered the state of his own feelings, he had +steadily sought to win her regard: that he had gained, but not the love +he prayed for. She liked and trusted him as a friend--nothing more--not +one atom more, he was well aware. His love shone upon her as the sun +shines upon glass or water--reflected back, it is true, but with +perfect coldness. + +Lois vaguely surmised that he loved her, but he had never told her so. + +Lady Quaintree ardently desired now to see Lois the wife of her beloved +son. But how about the one whom the dead old man had decreed to be the +husband of this beautiful girl? The difficulties in the way loomed +large. He certainly had not appeared very anxious the night before +to take any advantage of his position, or to seek to improve his +acquaintance with the girl thus placed under his charge. + +Great was the amazement of the Honorable Gerald when he heard of the +good fortune that had befallen Lois. + +“By Jove! what a crotchety old dolt!” was his exclamation. “Why +couldn’t he leave the girl untrammeled?” + +But he said it to himself, for Lois was standing by. + +Lady Quaintree asked her what she was going to do. + +“To remain exactly as I am, dearest madam.” + +“Absurd! Impossible, my love!” + +“If you wish me to be happy,” Lois pleaded, “you will let me go on as I +have done for these four peaceful years. I wish for no change.” + +Her ladyship glanced keenly from her son to Lois and back again, but +without perceiving the slightest sign that the desire expressed by Lois +might be dictated by some deeper feeling than affection for herself. + +“Well, my dear, be it as you will. Let us make no change for the +present, if it so please you. All I bargain for is that we do a little +delightful shopping for your benefit, darling. You must shine with the +bravest. Frank asked if we could go to his office to see the original +will; but my lord has undertaken to see that everything is right, and +to save us all trouble.” + +Again she glanced at Lois’ face as she pronounced the name of her +nephew; but not a ray of conscious pleasure, not a blush, betrayed a +spark of interest. + +“My lord is very good and kind,” she murmured. + +“And we must run down to Gloucestershire to have a peep at your Hall.” + +It was thus comfortably settled that Lois should remain with the +friends who had been so kind and considerate to her. + +“Does she care for anybody? or is she still heart-free?” Lady Quaintree +asked herself. + +Almost unconsciously, the good lady was meditating how she could find +out without committing herself or compromising her dignity. + +If wit or diplomacy could manage it, she was resolved on securing her +favorite as a wife for her son, though a couple of days before she +would not have thanked the soothsayer who might have told her that +such an event was looming in the future as a marriage between Lois and +Gerald. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +PAUL DESFRAYNE’S WIFE. + + +Lady Quaintree did not let excitement interfere with her usual plans +and daily arrangements. She had settled that they should go on +Saturday--the day after that one so memorable in Lois’ life--to the +Zoological Gardens to hear the band play; and, accordingly, at about +four o’clock, she set off with Lois and her son in the carriage. + +To Lois it all appeared as a dream. Everything was the same, yet how +different! Only a week ago had she attended her patroness to this gay +scene, then as her paid if esteemed and indulged dependent. Now how was +everything altered! Her very attire proclaimed that the tide of events +had swept over her. She thought to keep her head steady, to stand +unchanged, but it was difficult. It is as dangerous looking over an +abyss clothed with all the flowers of spring, illumined by the golden +rays of the morning sun, as to peer down from the black, beetling brow +of a precipice, jagged and repellent. + +“Heaven!” she cried, half-shudderingly, in the depths of her heart, +“keep my soul pure and unspotted. Help me to do my duty now, even if I +have failed in the days gone by.” + +It was but too sweet for a beautiful girl of eighteen to be +suddenly paid so much court, to be coaxed to drink so many a cup of +nectar-tinctured flattery. + +Great was the wonderment among the large circle of Lady Quaintree’s +friends and acquaintances at the magic change in Miss Turquand’s status +in society. No one knew the stipulations in the old man’s will. It was +only known that she was now the happy possessor of a large fortune, in +lieu of being a penniless toiler in the world’s hive. + +That day Lois Turquand might have commanded a dozen offers, some good, +some bad, some indifferently good. Many people speculated as to what +would happen next. + +“She was sure to marry at once,” everybody said. “Her beauty, her +money, and her romantic little history would surely obtain for her the +vivid interest of some more or less eligible individual.” + +The majority decided she would marry Gerald Danvers. + +Lady Quaintree had mentioned the projected visit to the Zoo, in the +hearing of Frank Amberley, and he was haunting the gates when the +little party arrived. + +Poor fellow! He could not resist coming, fluttering about the flame +that might end by consuming him. + +Gerald objected to his company, now that he had resolved on +appropriating the beautiful Lois himself. Hitherto he had never really +noticed how often or how long Frank lingered by Miss Turquand. To-day +he swelled and fumed like some ruffled turkey-cock, as Frank persisted +in walking by the young girl’s left hand, as he displayed the grace and +elegance of his irreproachably dressed person on her right. + +Lady Quaintree had meant to keep Lois near her own side, but was +obliged to loiter behind the three young people, while a dowager friend +poured some matronly confidence into her unwilling ear. + +It was a lovely afternoon, and the sun glittered down his smiles on the +gay throng, sitting in flowerlike groups, or lingering over the sward. + +The stroll was not a very lively one for the three somewhat ill-matched +companions. Frank Amberley’s heart was full of despairing love and +pain. Gerald Danvers was in a downright rage. Lois felt worried and +distrait. The two young men wished each other at Jericho, or the Arctic +regions, and Miss Turquand would not have been sorry to see herself +quit of their uncongenial company. + +At a sudden turn they came upon Captain Desfrayne, who had just +entered the gardens. He met them so unexpectedly that Lois was taken +by surprise, and so was he. They stood for a moment staring at one +another, then Paul Desfrayne recollected himself, and lifted his hat. +Miss Turquand went through the conventional obeisance. + +A few words--what they were neither knew. Captain Desfrayne exchanged +courtesies for a brief moment with Frank Amberley, and bowed to Lady +Quaintree, who was only a short way in arrear. Then he vanished as +quickly as he had appeared. + +The faint tinge of rose color on Lois Turquand’s cheeks deepened +visibly as she hurriedly passed on. A strange kind of resentment rose +up in her breast, and made her eyes glitter with anger. At a second +reflection, however, reason came to her aid. + +“It was not his fault,” she argued to herself, “that the kind old man +to whom I owe my good fortune made an arrangement which is probably as +distasteful to him as it is to me. I must not blame him. In fact, I am +very much obliged to him, for I feel I should only be rude to him if he +tried to talk to me. I don’t believe I ever could like him. He seems, +though, to have pleasant, kindly eyes, from the hasty glance I had.” + +Paul Desfrayne moved away as if from the vicinity of the plague. + +“Confound it!” he muttered, going he hardly knew whither. “What +bewitchingly lovely eyes that girl has, though she is so cold and +formal; what magnificent hair, and the grace of a queen! I wish her +better luck. Why couldn’t the old man have left his money rationally, +and not make such a silly, preposterous, aggravating muddle behind him! +Well, after all, I have nobody to blame but myself. My sins be on my +own head; only I wish nobody else had been dragged in. If it were not +for my mother, I should not care so much. Yet, after all, why need I +linger in this life of misery? Would it not be better--better to stable +my white elephant in the neighboring mews, and so let my fatal secret +out at once?” + +He laughed aloud, cynically, bitterly. + +Having escaped from the neighborhood of Lady Quaintree’s party, he took +a turn to ascertain if his mother was in the gardens, for she had sent +him a pressing message to ask him to meet her; but finding that she had +not, apparently, arrived, he walked listlessly away at random. + +Attracted by the solitary aspect of the quarter, he roamed toward the +place where the lions and tigers lay, strode to and fro with stealthy +step, or sat with magisterial gravity. + +Paul Desfrayne had walked literally into the lion’s den. + +A woman, young, strikingly handsome, dressed to perfection, was +standing in front of the center compartment. + +Madam Lucia Guiscardini! + +Had any one of the brutes strolled out of its den, and held out a +paw of greeting, the young man’s face could scarcely have worn an +expression of greater dismay. + +Had it been possible, he would have retreated. But the first sound of +his firm, light step, made the superb Italian turn. + +A heavy frown darkened her perfectly beautiful countenance, and she +steadfastly gazed upon Captain Desfrayne with much the same look as the +dangerous animals at her elbow had. + +Paul Desfrayne raised his hat mechanically. + +Madam Guiscardini took her small hands from off the railing, where they +had been placed with an odd sort of grasp, and swept a curtsy almost +ironical in its suavity. + +The young man was obliged to advance, while Madam Guiscardini would +not move an inch from the spot where she stood, continuing to gaze at +him with that disagreeable, mesmeric expression which so painfully +resembled the look of the wild beasts that made so suggestive a +background. + +“Good morning, Madam Guiscardini,” said Paul Desfrayne, folding his +arms, as if to prepare himself for a stormy interview. + +“Did you come here to seek me, Paul Desfrayne?” she inquired, regarding +him with a baleful light in her splendid eyes, defiance in every tone +and gesture. + +“To seek you!” bitterly repeated the young man. “I would go to the end +of the world to avoid you--you who----” + +“Come. It is a long time since we have met, and we may be interrupted +at any moment. If you have anything to say to me, I am willing to go +home now, and either wait for you, or let you precede me. We have not +met since----” + +“Since our wedding-morning,” Paul Desfrayne said, as she paused. “Not +for three years. I suppose you have never seen me from that day until +this moment?” + +“I have never seen or heard of you,” she angrily retorted, her eyes +flashing ominously with premonitory lightning. “I did not wish to +see you. I did not care to hear of you. I never asked a question +about you. I should not care if we never met again; and I should be +glad--_thankful_ to hear you were dead.” + +“I thank you,” said Paul Desfrayne, again lifting his hat. “If care, if +regret, if bitter self-reproaches could have killed, I should not have +troubled you to-day. It was, indeed, by no voluntary movement that I +happened to see you this afternoon. But I believe I must have sought +you ere long, to make some endeavor to arrive at a state of things +somewhat less wearying, somewhat less wretched. My life is becoming a +burden almost too heavy to be borne.” + +“You can see me any day you please to appoint,” Madam Guiscardini said +angrily. “I have no desire either to seek or to avoid you. But I do not +see what good can come of talking. Nothing can undo what has been done; +nothing could roll back the waves of that pitiless time that has swept +over you and over me.” + +“It remains to be seen what can be done, Madam Guiscardini,” Captain +Desfrayne answered, moving quite close to her, and looking intently +into her eyes. “Do you happen ever to have seen, heard of, or +personally known, a man of the name of Gilardoni?” + +The color faded completely from the cheeks, lips, almost from the eyes, +of the beautiful prima donna. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE PRIMA DONNA’S HATE. + + +Lucia Guiscardini clutched at the iron bar against which she was +half-leaning, and glared into the face of her husband, as if she would +read his innermost soul. + +“What does he know?” she whispered to herself. “How much does he know?” + +There was a dead silence for a few seconds. The signs of emotion caused +by the name of the friendless wretch who had sought his help were not +lost upon Captain Desfrayne. + +Madam Guiscardini was trying to rally her forces, and she could not +reply in words. Paul Desfrayne repeated his inquiry in another form: + +“You do know him?” + +The half-terrified woman looked straight into his eyes--those honest +eyes, so full of natural kindness and honor. + +Fear had blanched her cheeks and lips; shame, perhaps, now drove the +roseate hues in a flood back again, as she answered, in a tolerably +steady voice: + +“I do not. I have never heard of him.” + +“Ah! I don’t suppose my domestic affairs can possess any interest for +you, madam. It is merely a piece of egotistical gossip to inform you +that I have taken Leonardo Gilardoni into my service.” + +“Into your service?” + +The words were pronounced slowly, with obvious difficulty, and in a +husky voice. + +Paul Desfrayne did not evidence, by the slightest sign, any triumph at +the effect his unexpected shot had produced, but silently watched her +face. + +“Why--why have you done so? I mean, why do you tell me of it?” + +“I cannot help having an idea that you knew something of the poor +fellow at one time, though he has slipped from your memory,” Captain +Desfrayne said, very calmly, shrugging his shoulders. + +“Has he said--has he said----” + +She could not continue; the effort at control was too great. + +It was impossible to tell how much this quiet, now half-smiling, man +before her might know of the terror that haunted her day and night. + +“Has he said _what_?” demanded Paul Desfrayne, looking her steadily in +the face. + +“Said he knew me?” Madam Guiscardini coolly replied. + +But as she spoke, her fingers so convulsively twitched, as if she were +trying her utmost to curb the secret emotions of her mind, that they +snapped the delicate, carved ivory handle of her parasol. + +Paul Desfrayne, who had not once removed his eyes from her face, +laughed cynically, bitterly. His laughter had in it more of menace than +an uncontrollable outburst of violent anger. + +He thought: “What can be the secret between them?” But aloud he said, +affecting to ignore the accidental betrayal so direful as well as the +agitation of his wife: + +“He has barely mentioned your name, and then simply in a passing way.” + +“May I ask your reason for supposing I was acquainted with him?” + +“I had more reasons than one. But a chief reason was that I knew +he came from your part of Italy; and in a village everybody knows +everybody else. Had he been an old friend of yours--don’t curl your +lip: you were once as lowly placed as he, perhaps more so--you might +perchance have cared to hear something of him. The poor wretch has +been in grievous adversity, it seems: without a friend, often without +a shelter, without money; so it is probably a fortunate thing for him +that he has found a friend in me.” + +“I hope he will serve you well,” said Madam Guiscardini, in an ice-cold +tone. “It shows good taste on the part of Captain Desfrayne to +recall the fact that the Guiscardini was once a poor cottage girl in +poverty--in----” + +Her eyes flashed, and she stopped, as if afraid of rousing her +indomitable temper did she proceed. One sentence might ruin her. She +abruptly curbed herself, and swept another curtsy. + +“I have the honor to wish Captain Desfrayne good morning, and shall be +ready to receive his promised--his threatened visit----” + +“On Monday afternoon,” Paul Desfrayne said sharply, as if in positive +pain. “I can endure this slavery--this horrible bondage--no longer in +silence.” + +“On Monday afternoon be it. You know where to find me?” + +“No, I do not.” + +Madam Guiscardini looked with intent suspicion at him. She hated +this handsome young man with concentrated hate, but she respected +him profoundly, and she knew he would not utter a falsehood to gain +a kingdom. Therefore she was obliged to believe him, though she had +previously imagined that his presence in Porchester Square had been due +to some plot of which she was the object. + +She carefully watched him as she gave her address. It was like a duel +to the death, each adversary narrowly eying the movements of the other. +To her further mystification, Paul Desfrayne almost sprang back in his +amazement when he heard her name the exact place where she lived. + +“Where?” he demanded, as if unable to credit his ears. + +She coldly repeated the name of the square and the number of the house. + +“Why does he seem so astonished?” she said to herself, eying him with +a glance akin to that in the yellow orbs of the leopardess a few steps +from her. “What is the matter now?” + +“On Monday afternoon, then, we will have a further explanation, Madam +Guiscardini,” Paul Desfrayne said, mastering his surprise, and raising +his hat with the ceremony he would have used to a total stranger. + +He left her. + +“Separated from my mother by a few layers of bricks and mortar,” he +thought. “I have appointed an interview, but what good can come of it? +None. I have made my bed--made it of thorns and briers, and must sleep +therein with what comfort I may.” + +He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. + +“What is to be done? It would be the best and wisest course to +immediately inform my mother of the exact state of affairs. I wish I +had done so at first. I am like those very immoral little boys in the +story-books of one’s youth, who don’t tell in time, and so the agony +goes on piling up until the culprit is next to smothered. What is to be +done with this Gordian knot? I have not the courage to cut it. I wonder +they didn’t include moral cowardice among the deadly sins. I wonder +what would be the consequences if I did summon up sufficient nerve to +inform my mother of my culpable behavior three years ago? Come, Paul +Desfrayne, it must be done. Better be brave at once, and march up to +the cannon’s mouth, than be found out ignominiously some day sooner or +later. Shall it be done to-day--this evening?” + +His reverie was broken by a light, caressing touch upon his arm. +Turning round suddenly, with a strange sensation of nervous alarm, he +found his mother by his side. + +Smiling, pleasant, unsuspicious, her sunny brow unclouded by a shadow +that might possibly produce a future wrinkle, she looked deliciously +happy, and perfectly confident, to all appearance, of his trust and +affection. + +She started as he turned his face full upon her. + +“You are pale, my dear. Are you not well?” she anxiously inquired. + +“Not very well, mother. The heat--the crowd--it is such a bore +altogether, that I am weary, and I should be glad to escape.” + +“My dear Paul, I have seen so little of you lately, that I grudge to +lose you when I have fairly secured a chance of your company. But”--she +glanced round at the gay, ever-moving crowd, with its lively colors, +at the faces, dotted here and there, with which she was familiar, and +a faint smile dimpled the corners of her lips--“if you will, let us go +somewhere else. Where would you like to go?” + +“Anywhere. I want a little talk with you--one of our own old gossips, +mother. It is impossible to obtain the least chance of an uninterrupted +talk here.” + +Yet as he spoke, his heart sank within him. It seemed as if his +confession would be more difficult to-day than ever. To make his path +more thorny, that beloved face looked so confiding, so sure that there +could not be the shadow of a secret, that it would have been a thousand +times easier to walk up to the cannon’s mouth, than to speak the few +words that must break forever the steady bond linking them together. + +But for all Mrs. Desfrayne’s calm, suave looks, she was keenly watching +her son. His absence alone had hindered her from finding out long ago +that some shadow lay between them. Her practised, maternal eyes could +read him through. + +“What has happened, and why is he afraid to tell me?” she meditated, +while to outward seeming engaged in regarding the pleasant scene about +her with half-childish interest. + +Her brain ran swiftly over every imaginable train of events, possible +or impossible, that might have happened, seeking some clue to the +evident mystery. + +Not for a moment did her mind revert to what, after all, was the most +simple and obvious explanation. + +They moved to quit the gardens. + +“Is not that the Guiscardini?” she asked of Paul. + +“I believe so.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne had put up her glass, so the look and tone with which +her inquiry was answered escaped her. + +“I don’t know why,” she continued; “but I have taken an inveterate +dislike to that woman. She reminds me of a magnificent cobra. You know, +Paul, I have a foolish way of taking likes and dislikes.” + +At the next step she encountered Miss Turquand. + +In spite of her resolve to cultivate the young girl’s friendship, a +cold inclination of the head was all that passed between them. + +A warmer salutation to Lady Quaintree followed, but Mrs. Desfrayne was +too impatient to hear what her son had to say, to be able to stop just +then for a little idle, sunshiny gossip. + +Paul handed her into the brougham that was in waiting. + +It was a hired one, as Mrs. Desfrayne always remembered as she was +about to enter it. She had longed for the days when either by some +brilliant matrimonial stroke on her own part, or that of her son, she +should be the happy possessor of such carriages and horses as might +please her fancy. Yet now she was secretly determined to hinder, if +possible, her son’s acceptance of a fortune that far exceeded her most +sanguine dreams. + +With anxiety she regarded Paul’s face as he seated himself beside her. +He was ashy pale, and his eyes were bright with the brightness of fever. + +“Home,” she said to the coachman. + +Too wary to hasten the unwilling confession by ill-timed or injudicious +questions, Mrs. Desfrayne nestled back in her cozy corner, and began to +flirt her garden-fan, waiting patiently. + +It is always the first step that forms the difficulty, and even yet +Paul could not resolve on precipitating himself into those cold waters +he so dreaded. Even did he take the plunge, how could he introduce the +subject? + +The drive passed, therefore, in constrained silence. + +It was not until they were seated in the cool, pleasant room, called by +Mrs. Desfrayne her own special retreat, that Paul could break the ice. + +Mrs. Desfrayne gazed with wonderment at the handsome face of her boy, +as he sat on a low chair before her, his eyes cast down, his hands +nervously playing with the silken fringe on her dress, so unlike what +she had ever known him before. + +“Paul,” she said softly, leaning toward him, “you look like a criminal. +What is the matter with you?” + +The tone was mellow and tender, and yet with a tinge of gentle gaiety. + +Paul raised his eyes. + +“Like a criminal?” he repeated slowly. “I look like what I am. Oh! my +mother--my mother!” + +He slipped from the low chair, on his knees, and bowed his face on his +mother’s hands. She felt hot tears wet her fingers, and a great terror +seized her heart, for she adored her boy. + +“Paul,” she whispered, “tell me what has happened!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +PAUL DESFRAYNE’S CONFESSION. + + +Paul Desfrayne’s weakness did not last many minutes. + +Rising to his feet, he strode backward and forward half a dozen times; +then, pausing, he leaned his folded arms on the back of the low, carved +chair into which he had at first thrown himself. + +“You alarm me, Paul. I beseech you, tell me the worst at once,” +implored his mother. + +“You may see with what an effort I try to approach the secret which, +for three long years, has been my curse by day and by night,” answered +Paul mournfully. + +Mrs. Desfrayne threw out her hands with an involuntary gesture of fear +and amazement. + +“For three years!” she repeated, as if incredulous. + +“What do you imagine that secret to have been?” he demanded, gazing +steadfastly at her. + +“Good heavens! how can I imagine when, until this moment, I did not +know you had any concealment from me at all?” exclaimed Mrs. Desfrayne. + +Her accent was indicative half of despair, half of keen reproach. + +“As you are aware, I have just received a most singular offer.” + +“Your troubles, then, have some reference to Lois Turquand?” + +“In a measure, yes. You would wish me, if I understood you aright, to +take advantage, as far as in me lay, of this offer?” + +Mrs. Desfrayne hesitated, then cried, with vehemence: + +“Why do you not speak plainly at once, instead of harassing me by these +hints and half-confidences?” + +“Because I am afraid of the effect upon you; because I am afraid you +may never be able to forgive me.” + +“For what offense?” + +“For deceit and ingratitude toward the best and kindest of mothers.” + +“It is impossible to comprehend you. I must only wait for some key to +your singular self-reproaches,” said Mrs. Desfrayne, with a profound +sigh. + +“Three years ago I went for a holiday tour to Italy, when you were with +some friends at Wiesbaden.” + +“I recollect perfectly well. I was disappointed because you would not +join us.” + +“Would to Heaven I had yielded to your wishes!” + +“From that time I have scarcely seen anything of you, Paul. You have +visited me by fits and starts, and have never stayed long.” + +As she spoke, an idea darted into Mrs. Desfrayne’s mind. + +“After traveling about in various parts of Italy, as I kept you +informed by my letters, I reached Florence.” + +His lips trembled as he pronounced the name of the city which bore so +many painful memories for him. + +“Go on, my dear.” + +“I remained at Florence for several weeks. While there, I went every +night to the opera.” + +“A very agreeable manner of spending your evenings,” said Mrs. +Desfrayne, with assumed carelessness. + +“There was an excellent company, and the operas were admirably +selected; but I did not go for the sake of either performers or pieces: +I went, drawn thither as by a lodestone, because I was under some kind +of strange hallucination that I was in love with a young girl who had +just come out there. Perhaps I may have been in love with her. It was +folly--a madness!” + +There was no sign of emotion on Mrs. Desfrayne’s face. She sat almost +immovable as a statue, her hands loosely clasped as they rested in her +lap, her wide-open, glowing eyes alone betraying the painful interest +she felt in her son’s words. + +“For some days and nights I blindly worshiped this dazzling star from +a distance,” Paul continued, having vainly waited for some remark from +his mother. “At last I was introduced to her. She lived with some +elderly female relative, who accompanied her to the theater every +night. By degrees--very rapid degrees, for Italian girls are very +unlike their English sisters--she made me her confidant. She did +with me as she chose. For all I knew of her real nature, she might +as well have worn a waxen mask. Through the dishonesty of the man +who had trained her, she had been sold into a species of slavery to +the manager. Unaware of her own value, she had bound herself to this +fellow’s exclusive service for the term of ten years, at a salary which +the most subordinate performer would have refused with scorn.” + +“Go on,” said his mother, on whom the truth began to force itself. + +“Infatuated as I was, she easily interested me in her story, although I +had at that time no intentions of any kind beyond----” + +“Beyond flirting with the girl?” + +“I floated with the current. I was incapable of reasoning, as much so +as any one bereft of their natural senses. One night I was behind the +scenes; the house took fire. There was a fearful panic, and hundreds +were injured--many killed. This young girl clung to me, and somehow I +carried her out of the theater by the stage-door--I believe so, for I +remembered nothing from the time I caught her up in my arms until a +moment of amazed weakness, when I woke up to find myself lying in a +strange room, this girl sitting by me. I then learned that, as I rushed +out, bearing her in my arms, a blazing beam of timber had fallen, and +dangerously wounded me.” + +An exclamation escaped Mrs. Desfrayne, and she half-rose from her seat. + +“What am I to hear?” she cried, as if in anguish. “And you never told +me of this illness!” + +“Let me finish, now that I have begun. I had been ill for weeks in +the old home on the outskirts of Florence, where this girl lived, +with her aged attendant or relative. Unhappily--most unhappily--they +both imagined I was an English milord. I believe that my servant had +deceived them by bragging of my wealth and importance.” + +“How did he dare to permit you to remain in that place instead of +having you carried to your own lodgings?” demanded Mrs. Desfrayne. + +“When I fell, the girl and I were put into some kind of vehicle, +and she took me to her own home. Her object was, I believe, to have +me under the immediate pressure of her influence. When Reynolds, my +servant, heard of what had occurred, he flew to my side; but the +physician who attended me would not, or could not, hear of my removal. +Reynolds, poor soul, was seized, a day or two after, with a fever, from +which he did not recover for months.” + +“I see now the drift of your history,” said Mrs. Desfrayne, in a tone +which showed that she was wounded to the depths of her heart. “It +is the hackneyed story of the young man who falls ill marrying the +handsome young woman who nurses him.” + +Captain Desfrayne turned aside, and took a hasty stride to and fro; +then he returned, resuming his position. + +“She was, or pretended to be, full of joy and gratitude on my recovery. +During the days of my convalescence, she spoke to me fully of her +state of bondage, her anger at the injustice done her, her desire +for liberty, and affected to make no secret of what she averred was +desperate love for myself. My sympathies were enlisted for her; my +vanity was aroused in her favor. I at length----” + +“Asked her to marry you?” laughed his mother. + +“No. Her agreement with the manager bound her for ten years, under a +heavy penalty. I desired that she should leave the stage, although +I felt it would be next to an impossibility to marry this girl. I +remembered your strong prejudices against stage-performers----” + +“Ah! You did think of me once.” + +“I rarely forgot you in my most insane moments. I thought of my +position, of the traditions of my family. I would have freed her if I +could, and then fled her presence; for I felt it would be impossible to +make this girl your daughter, though her name was stainless, and she +was superbly beautiful, and gifted with talents of a certain kind. But +I could not rescue her by money from the clutches of the old wolf who +had laid a claw upon her. It would have needed thousands, and I should +perhaps have left myself penniless, and--and looking very like a fool,” +Paul added, with a cynical laugh. + +“You married the girl, then?” said Mrs. Desfrayne eagerly, anxious to +ascertain the exact position of her son, and desirous of hurrying him +to an immediate acknowledgment. + +“I offered to assist her in taking flight to Paris. At least, I +believed the suggestion was mine, but later I recollected that the +entire plan was arranged by herself, under advice of the old woman who +attended her. She was restless and impatient until we had completed +every preparation to leave Florence forever, as she intended. I cannot +realize how it came about that I was like a puppet in her hands.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne shrugged her shoulders with a kind of disdainful +compassion. + +“We started late on a Friday, the opera being closed on that night, and +arrived safely at the frontier. Then we suddenly discovered that the +old woman had not been provided with a passport. The girl whom I had +undertaken to assist wept and sobbed with terror.” + +“A preconcerted affair, my poor Paul.” + +“No doubt. We agreed that there was nothing to be done but to leave +the old attendant behind with money and instructions to follow as +early as she possibly could, and then to pursue our journey. For more +than a week we continued our flight. It seemed to me then more like +a strange, fascinating dream, than an incident of my real every-day +life. I fell more and more under the spell of this beautiful siren’s +beauty and insidious charm of manner, and by the time we reached Paris +I had completely lost my senses. About three days after we reached +our destination, I made her my wife; we were married at the British +embassy.” + +Paul’s mother clasped her hands with a cry. The point at which she +had desired to arrive even now electrified her. She could not have +explained her own feelings at that moment. Her brain seemed in a whirl +from the shock. The story gave her the idea that it was like one of +those fantastical dreams, where all the personages who appear perform +the most improbable tricks, and everybody apparently does the most +unlikely acts. + +“May I inquire the name of this amiable young person?” she asked, and +her own voice struck her as being strange. + +“It is already known to you,” answered Paul, in hollow tones. “But I +will mention it when I have finished my narration. We were married. The +ceremony over, we returned to the hotel where I had placed her, and +where I had likewise taken up my abode. Within an hour after this fatal +bond had been tied, an accidental observation on my part revealed to +her the fact that I was _not_ the rich and titled man she had supposed +me to be. I had asked her to relinquish the stage as a profession, and +she laughingly answered that as the wife of a great English milord it +would be impossible for her to continue the career to which she had +meant to devote her life. I was confounded at the mistake into which +she had so unhappily fallen, and endeavored to explain my real position +to her.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne tapped her foot on the carpet with such violence that +Paul stopped. + +“Go on--go on--go on!” she exclaimed. + +“This girl, whom I up to that moment had had the fatuity to imagine +loved me for myself alone, went on in an ecstasy dilating on the future +splendors of her lot. I at length succeeded in inducing her to listen +to me. Then I laid before her the realities of my position, my limited +income, the quietude of the life she would be obliged to lead. I spoke +of you----” + +“How dared you speak of me to a person like that?” furiously asked Mrs. +Desfrayne. + +“I--well, enough. If blamelessness of life, an unspotted name, could +have atoned for other sins, even you, mother, must have granted her +absolution. Enough. She was compelled to believe that she had made a +most fearful mistake--she was like a tiger who---- My mother, it had +been well for us--for many others--if that revelation could have come +an hour before, instead of an hour after, our ill-starred union. The +scene I never can forget. Sometimes in the dead hours of the night I am +startled awake by the fancy that I am again going through it. I wonder, +after the successive shocks of those few weeks, that I now live to give +you the miserable recital.” + +Again he paced to and fro, as if in almost uncontrollable emotion. This +time, on again pausing, he sank into the chair as if almost exhausted. + +His mother made no sign. The bitterness of her anger and disappointment +exceeded, if that were possible, his darkest forebodings. + +She continued to tap her foot on the carpet, and her jeweled fingers +twined and twisted in one another as if they must snap. This time she +addressed no inquiry to him, but sat a silent image of despair and +mortified anger. + +“Let me make an end of my story as quickly as I can,” Paul said, in +subdued tones. He heartily wished now he had let it still remain untold +until such a time as he might be driven to confess it. “La Lucia, after +storming and raging, registered a mighty oath never to see my face +again if she could help herself, never to carry into effect the vows +she had made at the altar--to hold herself free as if she had never +seen me. I can hardly tell you what she said. She ironically thanked me +for having helped her to escape from one kind of slavery, though she +found herself trammeled in another, and for my care of her during the +journey, and for the consideration and delicate courtesy I had shown +her in her unprotected state, and then swept out of the room. The next +thing I heard of my lady wife was that she had carried herself and all +her belongings off from the hotel. I never heard of her again until +Europe was ringing with her name and fame.” + +“Her name?” repeated Mrs. Desfrayne mechanically. + +“The name I had first known her under.” + +“And that was?” + +“Lucia Guiscardini.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne sprang from her seat, and began pacing to and fro in her +turn. + +“Oh! it is too much--too much!” she cried. “Ungrateful, wicked, +unloving son, is it thus you have returned the deep, unwearying +affection I have ever cherished for you?” + +“The most bitter reproaches you can level at me can never equal in +intensity those which I have heaped on my own head,” Paul replied. + +“You must have been mad to let yourself be entrapped in this way,” Mrs. +Desfrayne went on. “I can scarcely believe it is true. You are, then, +really bound to this--this singing woman who cares nothing for you, who +seems to disdain you and all belonging to you. Oh! it is incredible. +And what about Miss Turquand?” + +“I know not,” answered Paul wearily. “I wish to Heaven I had never seen +or heard of the eccentric old fogy who chose to imagine himself under +some debt of gratitude to me, for then----” + +“Folly!” angrily interrupted his mother. “Better wish you had never +seen this woman who owns you--or that you had not been so----” + +She shrugged her shoulders with an expression indescribable. + +There was a brief pause. + +“It would be as ridiculous as it would be undignified on my part to +display any resentment against you,” Mrs. Desfrayne resumed. “Of +course, you had a right to please yourself: though married in haste, +you are repenting at leisure. But what are you going to do?” + +“In what way?” + +“Good heavens! so long as that woman lives, there is not a ray of +happiness for you.” + +“I know it. It is a heavy penalty to pay for those few weeks of +forgetfulness, of lunacy, of fever; but hardly so heavy to bear as +the loss of the love and esteem of the only woman in the world I ever +loved, or am likely to love.” + +“Whom are you talking about?” hastily demanded Mrs. Desfrayne, a new +spasm of jealousy seizing her heart. + +But Paul would not answer. + +He rested his arms on the back of the chair, and laid his head on the +support thus made. This attitude brought vividly back to his mother’s +mind the days of his childhood and youth, when he had been all her +own. How often had she seen him thus, when he had been guilty of some +youthful fault or folly, and was penitent, yet half-afraid he should +not easily find pardon! + +Mrs. Desfrayne’s heart was irresistibly drawn toward her boy. With a +soft, gentle touch, she laid one of her white, jeweled hands on his +head. + +“Do you speak of me?” she asked. “Ah! Paul, it is ten thousand pities +that, having committed this fatal mistake, you did not confide in me +before. What a miserable future is before you; but you must not give +way. It must be borne. I do not reproach you. Nay, I will give you such +comfort as I can.” + +Paul caught her hands, and covered them with kisses. + +“Would that I had--would that I had told you, mother!” he cried, +looking up into her face with his open, candid eyes, from which some of +the black care had melted. “That terrible secret has stood between me +and you like some malignant black specter.” + +“I dimly felt its presence now and again,” said his mother, “though I +could not believe it possible you could deceive me. But tell me, what +do you mean to do?” + +“Nothing. What can I do?” + +“True.” + +“As for this young lady, why, I am sorry she will be driven to think +ill of me; but any explanation would be clearly impossible. She will +have a handsome fortune in any case, and probably marry some one +infinitely more to her taste than I should be. In two or three days +my leave of absence expires, and I go to rejoin my regiment near +Gloucester.” + +“I no sooner see you again than you are snatched away. It is hard, +Paul.” + +“Just at this juncture perhaps it will be better for me to be out of +your way. You will think more kindly of your absent son and his faults +and follies than you might of----” + +“Come. Let us put away that painful subject, and not recur to it unless +necessary. Of course, it is of no earthly use your giving another +thought to this Miss Turquand.” + +“I think it would be as well to confide my exact position to the lawyer +who drew up the will, and who introduced me to the young lady yesterday +evening--Amberley. I think I mentioned his name to you. He might be +able to give me a dispassionate word of advice.” + +Mrs. Desfrayne considered. + +“You see, my dearest mother, he would be able to look at the matter +from a mere business point of view, as he has no interest in the +affair.” + +“Perhaps,” Mrs. Desfrayne slowly said, “it might be as well to consult +him. I think I have met him at Lady Quaintree’s. Yes, it would perhaps +be best to speak to him about your most unhappy position.” + +Captain Desfrayne rose, and went over to his mother’s little +writing-table. As if afraid to trust to his continuance of purpose, he +sat down and wrote a few lines to Frank Amberley, asking him to make an +appointment, as he desired to consult him on a matter of importance. + +He showed the note to his mother, enclosed it then in an envelope, +addressed and stamped it, leaving it on the desk ready for the post. + +The ordeal he had so dreaded had been passed through. The terrible +secret had been revealed. Now he wished he had spoken of it long ago. + +“You are going to Gloucester? When?” + +“On Wednesday. The regiment is stationed at Holston, some miles from +Gloucester.” + +“Holston? Why, is not that near the place where Flore Hall is situated?” + +“Yes. I look forward to going over the old house once more as one of +the few pleasures in store for me down there. I feel thankful to get +away now.” + +Neither Captain Desfrayne nor his mother knew that the old Hall in +which he had spent so many days of his childhood had been left to Lois +Turquand by her dead benefactor. + +The storm had passed, leaving but little trace behind. + +Mrs. Desfrayne easily persuaded her son to remain for the rest of the +evening with her. + +On Wednesday Captain Desfrayne was to go to Gloucester. + +On Monday he was to visit Madam Guiscardini, according to the +appointment made in the gardens, though it seemed worse than useless to +renew the pain and distress he had suffered that day. + +His mother was passionately averse to his seeing the woman who had so +fatally entrapped him. + +“Nay, mother; it will be best to ascertain clearly how we are to spend +our future lives,” Paul said. “We must come to a clear understanding +some way.” + +On reaching home, he found a letter from Frank Amberley, dated that +morning, before his own had been written, asking if it would be +convenient for him to attend on Tuesday a meeting of the partners +of the firm, to go more fully into the details of business having +reference to Miss Turquand’s affairs. + +Paul Desfrayne saw it would not be so easy to shrink from his duties +as sole trustee and executor to the beautiful Lois as he had hoped it +might be. + +As he drifted into a broken, uneasy slumber that night, his last +thoughts turned upon Lois, sincerely trusting it might not be necessary +for the young girl to attend the meeting. + +Why should he have this fear--this undercurrent of aversion to +encountering his beautiful charge? + +He had seen her only twice. He persuaded himself she was cold and +beautiful as an antique statue. He argued to himself that a world-worn, +half-weary man of thirty could scarcely be acceptable to a young girl +of eighteen. He chose to feel certain that being dictated to in her +choice must of itself suffice to render him unwelcome. + +And yet he shrank with vague terror at the chance of being again +exposed to the danger of being obliged to look into those soft, +crystal-bright eyes, of glancing even for a moment into those +untroubled depths, where lay mirrored the most perfect purity, loyalty, +and truth. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +FRANK AMBERLEY’S EXULTATION. + + +Lucia Guiscardini was determined not to come face to face again with +Paul Desfrayne if she could help it. + +The evening of the day she saw him by accident at the Zoological +Gardens, she was obliged to appear at the opera. + +Never, perhaps, had she performed more resplendently, yet all the time +she was meditating how to escape a second interview. + +She settled the matter after her own fashion. + +Ordering her maid to pack up a few necessary things, she started by the +midnight train for Paris. + +“I hate him,” she said to herself, as she sank back into a dim corner +in the first-class carriage as it rattled away from Charing Cross; “and +I would kill him if I could, and if I thought nobody could find it out. +What a weak fool I must have been! But I was in too great a hurry to +secure what I rashly imagined to be a splendid prize. And to think that +I might be a princess if I were not tied by this hateful bond! Women +have crushed others before for less cause.” + +The consequence was, that when Paul Desfrayne called at the house so +strangely contiguous to that in which his mother dwelt, he was informed +that madam was not in town. + +“Not in town?” he repeated, with amazement. + +Further inquiries elicited that madam had gone away rather +suddenly--gone to Paris, the man believed, and had not left word when +she might return. + +With a sense of almost relief, Paul turned away. Just then he was glad +of a reprieve, for he felt little equal to much more violent emotion. + +He was infinitely relieved, too, by finding that Miss Turquand’s +presence had not been considered necessary at the business meeting in +Alderman’s Lane. + +The young lady had been taken down to the country, one of the partners +informed him, by Lady Quaintree, the day before, to visit the mansion +and grounds left by the testator. + +“As you are aware, Captain Desfrayne, having read the will, all the +landed estates and house property have been left solely for the use +and benefit of Miss Turquand,” remarked Mr. Salmon, a tall, large, +white-headed gentleman, of a jovial deportment and cheerful manners. + +Captain Desfrayne bowed. He had indeed seen as much in the terrible +document; but, being preoccupied by the vexatious clauses respecting +the planned union between himself and Lois Turquand, had not paid much +heed to the minor details. + +“The principal country house is, I understand, a very handsome and +substantial place,” Mr. Salmon continued, jingling his seals musically. +“I think it is situated in Gloucestershire,” he added, looking at Frank +Amberley. + +“Flore Hall, Holston, some miles from Gloucester,” Frank Amberley +replied. + +Paul Desfrayne could scarcely credit his ears. He had congratulated +himself on the hope of escape, and now it seemed he would be driven to +walk into the very jaws of danger. + +“Did I understand you to say that Miss Turquand has gone to visit Flore +Hall?” he asked of Frank Amberley. + +“Certainly.” + +Paul had the greatest difficulty in restraining himself from demanding +how long she would be likely to stay there. + +He felt much like one of those unhappy criminals who have been immured +in a dungeon, the walls of which slowly close in and crush them. + +Like one in a painful dream, he listened as affairs were laid before +him, and dry, legal questions raised and discussed. + +Every moment he resolved to plainly tell these calm, legal gentlemen +how he was situated, or else to distinctly give them to understand that +he would not undertake the responsibility. + +Perhaps he was chiefly deterred by a vague feeling that he might place +himself in a ridiculous position. It was one thing to kneel, as it +were, at the feet of a mother, who might display either anger or +sympathy, but would certainly be able to comprehend his wild story; but +quite another to unveil his heart-secrets to the cool, critical eyes of +those hard-headed, tranquil men of the law. + +The partners, observing his wearied air, his total lack of interest, +his abstracted replies, settled each mentally that Captain Desfrayne +was not much of a man of business. + +Frank Amberley alone watched him narrowly. + +“He is not mercenary, that is clear,” Mr. Amberley thought. “What are +his secret motives or reasons for such strange behavior?” + +The interview ended, and Paul Desfrayne had made no sign, save of +acquiescence. + +Papers, memoranda of various kinds, deeds, leases, and other dry +reading had been gone through, only bringing to him a bad headache. + +At last he found himself in Frank Amberley’s private room, and free +to confide as much or as little as he pleased to the man who was his +secret rival. + +“You wished to consult me on important business, I believe?” Mr. +Amberley said, when they were alone. + +“I did, if you will be kind enough to listen to me.” + +There was a long and painful pause. + +Frank Amberley had a presentiment that Captain Desfrayne was about to +give him some clue to his reasons for shunning Lois Turquand. He did +not utter a word, but began to sort some papers, to leave his visitor +free to collect his thoughts. + +“The fact is,” Captain Desfrayne began slowly, “I am placed in a most +embarrassing situation. I find myself bound, in a measure, to make love +to a young, beautiful, and wealthy lady, and bribed magnificently to +try and win her, involving her in pecuniary loss if I fail to gain her +hand and heart, when----” + +“You speak as if something interfered to hinder you from carrying out +the agreeable wishes of the late Mr. Vere Gardiner.” + +“The strongest possible reason hinders me.” + +“You would not allude to a hindrance were it not your intention to +enlighten me.” + +“The hindrance is the most valid and insuperable one that could exist. +I am already married!” + +Frank Amberley pushed his chair back the few inches that intervened +between him and the wall behind, and stared at Captain Desfrayne. + +“Already married!” he repeated. “Impossible! You are jesting, surely? +Pardon me, I am so much surprised that I scarcely know what I am +saying. May I ask why you did not mention this important fact earlier?” + +“The subject is a most painful one, for I must frankly confess to +you that my marriage has been a most unhappy one, and has never been +publicly acknowledged.” + +A thrill of joy ran through Frank Amberley’s heart. Although he could +scarcely hope to win the beautiful object of his passionate love and +devotion, at least this stupendous stumbling-block was removed out of +the path. + +“Am I at liberty to inform the partners of the firm of this?” he asked. + +“I suppose they must learn it sooner or later,” Paul Desfrayne +answered, with a deep sigh. “Therefore, I leave the matter in your +hands. I trust in your kindness and discretion not to let it be more +fully known than may be absolutely necessary.” + +“Miss Turquand ought to be informed of the state of affairs.” + +“Perhaps you will be good enough to undertake the task?” + +“A sufficiently unpleasant one.” + +“Why so? To me it would be an impossibility; but to you----” + +“It will be a mere matter of business,” Frank Amberley remarked, as +Captain Desfrayne hesitated. A slight grimace which passed over his +countenance might have served to mark the words as ironical; but it +came and went unnoticed. “Be it so. When Miss Turquand returns, I will +take care she is duly informed of the fact which you have confided to +me. She would, perhaps, be better pleased if the information came from +yourself, but as you are so averse to seeing her on the subject, why, +I must simply do as you wish.” + +“The sooner she knows the better.” + +“But,” said Mr. Amberley, as if another idea had occurred to him, “I +think you mentioned just now, when down-stairs, that you were about to +start for Gloucestershire, to join your regiment. I thought you told +Mr. Salmon that you were going to Holston to-morrow, if I understood +rightly?” + +“Quite true.” + +“I have never visited the neighborhood; but if you are anywhere near +Flore Hall”--he hesitated--“the probabilities are that you may see +Miss Turquand before I do. I have no idea how long she will remain at +Holston, and did not know a visit was contemplated: I heard of it by +accident this morning.” + +Paul Desfrayne reflected. Unhappily, his meditations were neither of an +agreeable nor a profitable nature. + +“True,” he slowly replied, speaking as if with difficulty. “I will not +seek Miss Turquand--I cannot; you must bear with what may seem like +culpable weakness; but if I should meet her----” + +“I quite understand your situation and feelings, and I hope you will +treat me as a friend,” said Frank Amberley. “I will do what I can for +you; and, believe me, I sympathize with you. Let me know if there +should be any explanation between you and the young lady, and if you do +not find a good opportunity for speaking to her on the subject, I will +undertake to act for you.” + +Paul Desfrayne looked into those kindly, truthful eyes, and held out +his hand, as if to mutely express his gratitude. Then, after a few more +words, he departed, wearily. + +“Poor fellow!” Frank Amberley thought. “They may well paint fortune as +blind. Yesterday I envied him--to-day I cannot but pity him. So this, +then, is the secret. Poor soul! what a burden to bear.” + +Captain Desfrayne found, on returning home, that Leonardo Gilardoni had +arranged everything perfectly, for the migration of the following day. + +He wished to mention to the Italian that Madam Guiscardini had +abruptly quitted London, for the sake of observing the effect the news +might have, but he could not bring himself voluntarily to pronounce her +name. + +On the Wednesday morning, he started for Holston, having bade his +mother farewell. He had spent Monday and Tuesday evening with her, and +promised to write frequently. + +After all, the old links did not seem to be so broken as he had feared +they would be, and his mother still appeared as she had ever done, all +affection and maternal solicitude. + +She had some friends in the neighborhood of Holston, and looked forward +to being able to obtain an invitation for some weeks there. + +Captain Desfrayne mentioned the discovery that Miss Turquand had come +into possession of Flore Hall--a discovery that little gratified Mrs. +Desfrayne, for the old country-seat had belonged to one of her uncles, +who had been ruined by his extravagance. + +Probably she would not have been more pleased had any wee bird +whispered to her that Lois Turquand’s mother had been lady’s-maid +within its walls to the wife of that selfsame wasteful relative. Mr. +Vere Gardiner had, in truth, purchased the house and the land belonging +to it in the hope of being able to gratify his old love by installing +her as mistress where she had once been simply a paid servant. + +“There is a fate in it all,” Mrs. Desfrayne said. “How will it end?” + +“How should it end, mother?” Paul replied, somewhat sharply. “I suppose +we have pretty well seen the end of these unpleasant affairs. The worst +has passed.” + +Poor fellow! the most bitter draft was yet to come. The end of his +fantastical life-story was very far from view. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE MISTRESS OF FLORE HALL. + + +Lady Quaintree had taken a fancy into her head that she should like to +see the old Hall which now owned Miss Lois Turquand as proprietress. +Therefore, she carried off the young girl, her maid, and a couple of +male servants, on a hasty expedition. + +“We will not send word we are coming, my dear,” she half-suggested, +half-commanded. “It will be most advisable to seize the people who have +the care of the place by surprise.” + +Her ladyship knew nothing of the fact that Mrs. Turquand had once lived +at Flore Hall in service. Lois had never heard her mother refer to +her girl days, and was equally ignorant with Lady Quaintree that the +almost elegant, proud woman she remembered as her mother had originally +occupied so obscure and humble a position as lady’s-maid to a country +squire’s wife. + +“We must engage a maid for you, my love,” said Lady Quaintree. “It will +be impossible for you to manage without one.” + +Lois laughed with some gaiety, but did not answer. + +The journey was easily performed, without adventure. The way was as +pleasant as sunny skies, beautiful, constantly changing scenery, and +easy transit could render it. + +On arriving at Holston, in the evening, Lady Quaintree found a carriage +waiting at the station, for she had sent intelligence of her advent +to some friends in the vicinity, and piqued their curiosity by hints +of the beauty and romantic history of a charming young friend she was +bringing with her. + +Not only a carriage, but a very pretty girl waited the arrival of the +expected guests. This girl was the daughter of the old friends to whom +Lady Quaintree was going to pay what she had called “a flying visit.” +She was in the waiting-room, a bare, wooden-benched nook, where her +presence seemed like the veriest sunshine in a shady place. + +She was watching from the window, and ran out on the platform when she +saw her old friend alight. + +A tall, symmetrically formed figure, attired in a coquettish style, +a fair, laughing face, enframed in a golden shower of tangled curls, +with blue, or, rather, violet eyes, carnation lips, the most dazzlingly +white little pearly teeth, small hands, and dainty, arched feet, shod +in high-heeled shoes with gleaming buckles--such would be very crude +notes for a description of Blanche Dormer. + +The train swept onward, and in a moment the platform was again silent +and deserted, leaving Miss Dormer free to indulge in her evidently +impulsive nature, by kissing and embracing Lady Quaintree in a very +ardent manner. Lady Quaintree could have pardoned her for a little less +show of affection, her ladyship being somewhat averse to being made so +free with. + +“Dearest Lady Quaintree,” cried this young lady, her voice ringing like +musical bells, “I am so glad to see you! Mama would have come to meet +you, but she is not very well. Papa had to go to dine with Sir Charles +Devereux, or he would have come. I have not seen you since those +delightful days three years ago, when we had such a delicious ‘time,’ +as the Americans say, at that old German _bade_.” + +“My dear, I have brought you a friend--Miss Lois Turquand,” said Lady +Quaintree, with gentle dignity. “I hope you two girls will like one +another.” + +The girls looked into one another’s eyes, and then simultaneously +obeyed some mysterious impulse by clasping hands. + +“You two were little girls when I last saw you, Miss Blanche,” Lady +Quaintree said, as they descended the stairs to enter the carriage. + +“I was sixteen, your ladyship,” protested Blanche. “I am nineteen now.” + +“Ah! well. Fifteen or sixteen, I suppose, is very young and childish to +an old lady like me,” smiled her ladyship. + +On their way to The Cedars, the carriage passed the barracks. + +Blanche eagerly directed the attention of her companions to the place, +and informed them that the present occupants were to leave on the +morrow, and a fresh regiment was to be installed on Wednesday morning. + +Lady Quaintree politely suppressed a yawn, and thought with mild +wonderment of how easily interested in small objects country people +were. Lois listened with equal indifference, studying the captivating +lights and shadows on her new friend’s face. + +Neither knew that it was the regiment to which Paul Desfrayne belonged +that was expected. + +Mrs. Dormer was a delightful, somewhat old-fashioned type of the +country lady. Her manners were as free and as heartily cordial as those +of her daughter, but yet, like Blanche, she was as exquisitely refined +as if all her life had been passed at court. + +Having established her guests to her entire satisfaction, she began to +make a bargain with Lady Quaintree for a more extended stay than that +contemplated. She protested against their running away after a few +hours, for Lady Quaintree had settled that by the afternoon of the next +day she and Lois should drive to Flore Hall, and, if it were at all +inhabitable, stay there perhaps a day, or a couple of days. + +Mrs. Dormer listened with lively interest to the romantic story of Miss +Turquand’s newly acquired riches, while Blanche coaxed the young girl +into the garden for a quiet talk. + +In an hour the girls had cemented a friendship that was to last till +death should them part. + +“I know Flore Hall quite well,” said Blanche, when her enthusiasm +had slightly subsided. “A dear, delicious, old-fashioned place, in +what my old nurse calls ‘apple-pie order.’ You ought to fall in love +with the house, the gardens, the plantations, the shrubberies, the +conservatories, and all the rest, at first sight.” + +Blanche went on to give a minute description of the various beauties of +the Hall and its surroundings, until she made Lois feel more desirous +than she had yet been to see her new possession. + +The next day, having been introduced to Squire Dormer, and shown the +house and grounds by Blanche, who did the honors, Lois, now full of +an eager interest, and Lady Quaintree, quite girllike in her gleeful +anticipation, went to Flore Hall. + +There were many discussions as to how they should go, but it had +been finally decided that Miss Dormer should drive them over in her +pony-carriage. + +The lanes, the meadows, the sloping uplands, speckled and dotted with +sheep and kine, an occasional gleam of sunshiny water half-hidden +by alders, clumps of willows, and long grasses, the sweet sounds +of country life, the passing jingle of the bells on a wagoner’s +horses, made the way a veritable Arcadia of summer beauty. A joyous +exhilaration filled Lois’ whole being, and she drank in the fresh, free +air as if it had been the nectar of the gods. + +A tolerably smart drive of about an hour’s duration brought the +visitors--for such they considered themselves--to the massive iron +gates of the park surrounding Flore Hall. + +Miss Dormer drew up her cream-colored ponies, to let the two ladies +obtain a general view of the outward walls and plantations, the pretty +lodge, and the surrounding landscape. + +As Lois gazed upon the scene, she for the first time realized the +dazzling change that had taken place in her position. Her varying color +betrayed the emotions of her heart; but her companions were too much +preoccupied with their inspection to have any attention to spare. + +Blanche Dormer knew the place well, but she now regarded with different +eyes the familiar spot. + +Nothing whatever could be seen of the house from the gates, for the +walls were very high, and the trees grew so close together that they +formed an apparently impenetrable screen. + +A profound, peaceful silence reigned over the place, and but for the +thin stream of smoke rising from the lodge chimney, it might have been +conceivable that this was like one of those palaces familiar in the old +fairy legends, where invisible spirits wait, and a spell lies over all. + +The mounted servant who attended the ladies alighted and rang the +bell. The clang reverberated, and but a very few minutes elapsed before +the summons was answered. + +An exceedingly pleasant-looking young rustic girl came trippingly along +the neatly kept path from the lodge to the gates, and opening a small +postern door at the side, stood, like some pretty rural figure in a +quaintly designed frame, gazing in mingled astonishment and admiration +at the visitors. + +In a moment or two a smile of recognition passed over her face as she +saw Miss Dormer, and she curtsied, awaiting some explanation of the +pleasure of the ladies. + +Lady Quaintree had ascertained the name of the housekeeper, and asked +if she were in the house. + +“Yes, my lady,” the girl said. + +“We wish to see her,” Miss Dormer said. + +“Yes, miss,” the girl again said, curtsying with rustic civility at +almost every monosyllable. + +“Open the gates, and let the ladies drive up to the house,” the groom +said. “Is your grandfather at home?” + +“Yes,” the girl answered; but she unfastened the great iron gates +herself, and let them swing back. + +Then she closed them, when the ponies had scampered through, and as +the ladies passed up the carriage-drive she ran back to the lodge, to +inform her deaf old grandfather that some visitors had arrived. + +“Upon my word,” said Lady Quaintree, as they came in sight of the +stately old pile, “you are an exceedingly lucky girl, my Lois.” + +Lois smiled dreamily. No fear, no foreboding, no distrust disturbed the +soft serenity of that moment. + +She looked up at the house, and scanned its ivy-grown walls, its noble +turrets, and quaint old windows, its carved terraces, the profusion of +radiant flowers and stately shrubs and grand old trees, the statues +that gleamed here and there from their leafy, embowering shades, the +fountain that flung up its glittering waters in the summer sunshine; +and while she mentally agreed with her friend and patroness, she felt +that this must be some glowing, fantastical dream. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +GILARDONI’S LOVE-GIFT. + + +Flore Hall was naturally a quiet, silent place, for it had rarely been +favored by the presence of its owners since the days when it had passed +from the hands of Squire Rashleigh, whose extravagant habits had ended +in his losing a pretty, well-cultivated estate that had been in the +family since the reign of King Henry II. + +The late Mr. Vere Gardiner would have settled tranquilly down into the +calm beatitude of a country gentleman’s existence, had he succeeded in +obtaining the long-yearned-for desire of his heart--had his one only +love consented to become his wife. + +As a bachelor, however, he preferred the busy, changeful round of a +city or town life to the stately solitude of the grand retreat he had +purchased. + +The household was left almost exclusively under the supervision of a +very capable personage--Mrs. Ormsby. This was the housekeeper whom Mr. +Gardiner had found in possession when he acquired the property, and he +did not think of displacing her. + +For a short time this excellent widow had dreamed of capturing the rich +owner of Flore Hall and its desirable belongings. She was a fine woman +and clever in her way, and at first thought the wealthy yet plain Vere +Gardiner would fall an easy victim. But, after a while, she was obliged +to relinquish her ambitious hopes, for hardly any opportunity was +offered of even meeting with the master of the stately abode where she +held vice-regal sway. Then she was fain to turn her attention to the +steward--a wiry, cool-headed old bachelor, who saw her innocent little +arts clearly enough, and amused himself by laughing in his sleeve at +the sly, good-looking widow. + +Due notice had been given to the housekeeper, steward, and servants of +the change of dynasty. At present, Mrs. Ormsby knew just the name of +her future mistress--no more, not even her age or social standing. + +Mrs. Ormsby anticipated a very grand scene indeed when Miss Turquand +should pay her first visit to the Hall. She hardly knew whether to +feel indifferent or disgusted by the impending alterations, but wisely +determined to wait the course of events. No one could tell her anything +whatever of Miss Turquand. In her imagination, the new proprietress +seemed to be a starched old maid, who might perhaps “come and settle +here, and worry my life out,” the widow fancied. Of a charming young +girl of eighteen, she never for an instant dreamed. + +When one of the few servants forming the necessarily limited household +came to inform her that three ladies wished to see her, she supposed +they were strangers, who desired permission to view the house. + +She threw down her plain sewing, and quitted the morning-room in +which she was sitting--a delightful nook, half in sun, half in shade, +affording a view of the prettiest part of the garden and of the +extensive landscape beyond. + +In her rich black silk and violet ribbons, she rustled along a +glass-covered way leading into the great square hall--this a curious +and fine example of quaint architecture. + +The ladies were at the principal door, in the pony-carriage waiting for +her. + +Mrs. Ormsby had never seen Blanche Dormer, so that the three +aristocratic-looking ladies were all equally strangers to her. She +glanced from one to the other, her eyes finally resting on Lady +Quaintree. + +“Mrs. Ormsby, I believe?” said her ladyship. + +The housekeeper curtsied affirmatively. + +Her ladyship proceeded to explain the reason for this visit, and +directed Mrs. Ormsby’s attention to the youthful owner of the house. + +Mrs. Ormsby gazed at Lois with mingled curiosity and surprise. Without +betraying any visible emotion, however, she begged the ladies to alight +and enter. + +As the late Mr. Vere Gardiner had every now and then paid a totally +unexpected visit to the Hall, and gave instructions that it was to be +constantly kept in perfect order, within and without, the house and +grounds were always ready for the closest inspection. + +The housekeeper preceded the ladies into the great oak-carved hall, and +threw open a door to the right. + +“Miss Turquand had some idea of staying here for to-night, if not for +a couple of days,” said Lady Quaintree, gazing around through her +gold-rimmed glasses. “Would you be able to accommodate us?” + +“Certainly, my lady. You would wish to dine here?” + +“If it could be managed--yes,” said Lady Quaintree. + +“I had better order your carriage round to the stables, then, my lady.” + +“My dearest Blanche, you will surely stay till morning?” said Lady +Quaintree, who seemed far more the mistress than Lois, who had wandered +to one of the long, wide windows, and was regarding the highly +cultivated garden with pleasure and interest. + +“Mama would be alarmed----” + +“Nonsense! I will send word by Stephen, your groom, that your mama is +not to expect her dear Blanchette till she sees her. Come, that is +settled.” + +To Blanche, who loved adventure and novelty, while her daily existence +bordered almost on monotony, the little escapade proposed was by no +means unacceptable. + +With the vivid fancy of a lively young girl, she already looked forward +to a not very far-distant period, when gay revels under the auspices of +her new friend should wake this fair solitude. + +Mrs. Ormsby rang the bell, and presently the ponies were seen trotting +by the windows on the side next the entrance. + +After a short rest, during which Lady Quaintree gave such information +to the housekeeper as she deemed advisable, it was settled that they +should be shown over the house. + +Then came dinner, most excellently planned and arranged by Mrs. Ormsby, +and after that a walk and a drive to see the gardens and plantations. + +As yet, it did not seem real to Lois. Lady Quaintree and her new +friend Blanche continually asked her what she thought of this pretty +place; but her replies were very brief. The dreamy smile on her lips, +however, and within the clear depths of her eyes, answered eloquently +enough. + +Every hour Lady Quaintree coveted this girl more as a wife for her son. +This retired spot had quite taken her fancy by storm, and she thought +resentfully of the man who had been selected as future owner of the +Hall and its mistress. + +Her ladyship might have dismissed the faintest spark of hope. It would +have been absolutely impossible for Lois ever to have cared in the +slightest degree for the Honorable Gerald. She had not forgotten for +one moment the handsome face, the soft, half-melancholy eyes, that had +startled her on entering Lady Quaintree’s salon on that now memorable +evening of her life. + +Perhaps, had Paul Desfrayne carefully planned the best course to arouse +a tender, half-piqued interest in the breast of this girl, he could +scarcely have devised one different from the one he was now following. + +The more resolutely Lois tried to drive away the recollection of +her mysterious trustee, the more his image seemed to present itself +obstinately before her. She found herself speculating on the reasons he +might have for avoiding her, and behaving in so rude and cold a manner +when obliged to address her. + +Only twice had she seen him, and already she was annoyed by finding +herself wondering frequently where and when she should see him again. +To her girlish mind the explanation of his coldness was easy enough. + +“He loves another, and is probably annoyed as much as I can be by the +painfully embarrassing bargain made between us by the kind old man who +has been the benefactor of us both,” she thought. + +It did not occur to her that perhaps Captain Desfrayne, while not base +enough to seek to win the splendid fortune in view by marrying one girl +when he loved another, might yet desire to save the part promised to +him by driving her to refuse to fulfil the contract. She might have +remembered that he was to receive fifty thousand pounds if the refusal +emanated from her, and only ten if he were the one to decline acceding +to the wishes of the dead old man. + +Lois Turquand, however, was as little worldly wise as Paul Desfrayne, +and her nature inclined toward romance and sentiment. + +As mistress of the house, she was consigned by Mrs. Ormsby to a +dreadfully grand, well-nigh somber state bedroom, while Lady Quaintree +and Blanche were conducted to a large, cheerful apartment, her ladyship +wishing to have her pretty country friend with her. + +Lois stood gazing around the chamber for some time after she was left +alone. Then she regarded the beautiful gardens beneath, lying bathed in +a silvery flood of summer moonlight. + +All seemed so tranquil, so calm, so sweet, Lois felt as if she could be +satisfied to let her life flow onward in this sylvan retreat without +desiring a change. + +The morning came--the morning of the day when the soldiers in occupancy +of the barracks at Holston were to give place to others. + +Lois and Blanche went out early into the grounds. The appearance of the +beautiful young owner, in so sudden and mysterious a way, had created +a profound sensation among the servants, but, although many a pair of +curious eyes darted inquisitive glances from sheltered corners, not a +soul was visible. + +The bright, pleasant, laughing voices of the girls were answered or +echoed by the wild, soft warblings of innumerable birds. + +Blanche was more full of delight and admiration than even on the +previous day. She led Lois down to a secluded path, which went +slopingly to a wide sheet of water, dancing and gleaming as if crested +with ten thousand diamonds. + +“There is a boat somewhere about here,” said Blanche Dormer. “I +remember when we came here one day for a picnic some few years ago, we +went on the water, and crossed over to that pavilion yonder. Do you see +it?--there, by the water’s edge, yonder, nearly hidden by trees and +climbing plants.” + +Lois looked across, and saw the fairylike summer-house. + +“It was an odd fancy to build it so that you could not reach it without +crossing the water,” Blanche went on. “I am an excellent oar, and I +should like to cross this afternoon, while we leave Lady Quaintree to +her siesta.” + +The girls returned to breakfast in the gayest of spirits. At that hour +Paul Desfrayne was being whirled down from London. + +In the afternoon, Gilardoni, who had attended his new master, remarked +how pale and weary he looked. + +Since the evening Gilardoni had entered Captain Desfrayne’s service, +and that very brief dialogue concerning Lucia Guiscardini had passed, +the name of the famous Italian singer had never been mentioned by +either. Neither knew that the life of the other had been blighted by +this lovely snake in woman’s form. + +Paul Desfrayne seemed too languid to make any effort to rouse himself +this day. + +Gilardoni, who appeared to have already formed a strong attachment +to the kindly man who had held out his hand in the hour of bitter +need--Gilardoni watched him with a strange sort of yearning pity and +sympathy. + +“This is no mere physical fatigue,” the Italian said to himself. “Nor +does it look like threatening illness. There is some mental strain.” + +He at length approached his master, deferentially, yet with the air of +one who intends to be heard. + +“I am sure, sir, it would do you a world of good if you were to ride +out for an hour or two,” he said. + +“Thanks for your attention, Gilardoni, but I feel too weary.” + +“Indeed, sir, I believe if you were to have a breath of fresh air, it +would make all the difference,” Gilardoni urged. “A canter along some +of those leafy roads and lanes we saw as we passed in the train would +clear the clouds off your brain. Forgive me if I make too free, but I +think----” + +“What do you think?” demanded his master, a little sharply. + +“Well, sir--I hope you won’t be displeased--I think you are weary in +mind, not in body.” + +Captain Desfrayne looked keenly at his servant for a moment or two, +then the expression that had almost attained a frown melted into a sad +smile. + +“You are not far wrong, Gilardoni,” he said, very quietly. “I have been +very much troubled of late by--by business affairs.” + +“I trust, sir, you will not consider me intrusive.” + +“Certainly not, my good fellow. I think I ought to feel indebted to you +for your kindly interest. I will take your advice, and go for a canter +before mess.” + +His horse was soon waiting for him--the animal being one of the few +luxuries Captain Desfrayne permitted himself out of his limited income. + +The Italian attended him to the gates of the barracks, and then stood +gazing after him with the kind of interest and affection so often seen +in the eyes of a faithful, attached Newfoundland dog. + +“What is the matter with him?” he thought. “Money-troubles, most +likely. He doesn’t seem the kind of man to be crossed in love--unless +the girl he wanted liked somebody else before she saw him. Perhaps that +has happened. I hope he will come back a little more cheerful.” + +Gilardoni turned to go back to his master’s rooms. As he moved, a +small, folded package lying a few steps from him caught his quick eye. +He stooped and picked it up. + +Before opening it, as there was nothing on the outside of the thin +tissue-paper to indicate who the owner might be, he felt it over with +his fingers. + +“Feels like a small cross,” he said to himself. “I wonder if the +captain dropped it when he pulled out his handkerchief just now.” + +He unfolded the paper, and displayed to view a small gold cross, such +as are worn as a pendant on the watch-chain. + +Gilardoni regarded this with an air of the most unqualified amazement, +mingled with an expression that seemed to indicate rage and contending +sensations of no very agreeable kind. For several moments he remained +as if carved in stone, fixedly looking upon the trinket. It was a +comparatively inexpensive toy, made of burnished gold, set with blue +stones on one side, perfectly plain on the other. + +“It is impossible,” Gilardoni murmured, at length, raising his eyes, +which wore a singularly startled expression. “Oh! it cannot be the +same. Why, they make these things by the hundred. How could it be +possible that it could come into the possession of Captain Desfrayne? +Yet--yet it _must_ be my fatal love-gift.” + +He abruptly turned the cross, and looked at the nethermost point. +Thereon was very inartistically cut or engraved a tiny heart pierced by +an arrow. + +“_Cielo!_” he cried, starting back. “It _is_ the same. Then has it been +dropped by the captain, or how has it come here? Am I dreaming? Am I +going mad?” + +He turned slowly, and walked toward the barracks, his head sunk upon +his breast, as if he were overwhelmed by painful reflections and +memories. + +“The moment the captain returns, I shall ask him if this was in his +possession, and how he came by it. Perhaps Lucia sold or lost it, and +it fell into the hands of some dealer, from whom he may have bought it. +Yes, that must be so.” + +Captain Desfrayne would probably not return for a couple of hours. +Gilardoni must wait with what patience he could muster. By dint of +arguing with himself, he at length almost arrived at the conclusion +that during his tour in Italy the captain had purchased the gold cross. + +That Captain Desfrayne had ever been acquainted with Lucia Guiscardini, +he did not for a moment dream. + +If the thought came into his mind that the cross had been a gift +from _la_ Lucia to the young Englishman, he dismissed it as utterly +improbable. + +The sudden finding of the trinket that bore so many mingled +recollections with it had made him feel faint and sick from emotion, +and as the slow minutes wore away he grew paler and paler. + +“She wears diamonds now that emperors scarce could buy,” he said to +himself, contemplating that tiny love-gift, “yet I doubt if any of the +gems that cluster in her jewel-boxes have given her half the rapture of +vanity and pleasure that thrilled her false heart when I clasped this +little gewgaw about her neck. She pretended she loved me, and returned +my kiss--and I had the folly to believe her true. Folly, folly, folly! +Some day I may have her at my feet, and then--aye, then----” + +He clenched his hand with frenzied rage. + +And all the time Paul Desfrayne was riding, he scarce cared whither, +under the soft, genial sunshine, that made the landscape seem a +fairy-land--riding onward, the sport of fate, to rivet yet another link +in the chain of his strange, fevered life. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +IN THE THUNDER-STORM. + + +In the afternoon, fortune, deceitful, false friend that she is, favored +Blanche Dormer’s caprice for rowing across the lake to the pretty +pavilion on the other side. + +Her mother, Mrs. Dormer, took a fancy for driving over to see Flore +Hall, and came about four or five o’clock. + +Having been escorted over the house, she was too fatigued to go into +the grounds, and, as Lady Quaintree was not sorry for an excuse to +rest, the two matrons subsided into a pleasant, gossiping chat in what +was called the blue drawing-room, with a diminutive table between them, +whereon was set a rare tea-service of Sèvres china. + +The girls readily obtained leave of absence. Blanche did not announce +her intention of going on the water, however, for she was afraid of +being forbidden to do so. + +“It seems so droll to think of a girl like you being sole proprietress +of this big house and all this ground,” Blanche laughingly said, as +they tripped down from the terrace into the garden. “Mama said there +would be a storm, but I don’t believe there will be a drop of rain.” + +A far-distant peal of thunder reverberated as she spoke, but it seemed +too far off to mean danger. + +Blanche again proposed crossing to the summer-house on the other side. + +“I am a splendid oar,” she said, smiling, “so you need not be afraid to +trust yourself to my care.” + +Lois hesitated for a few moments, but the proposition was too tempting +to be resisted. + +In a few minutes more they were floating pleasantly over the mirrored +surface of the waters. It was so calm, so dreamlike thus half-drifting +across, that both girls wished they were going an indefinite distance. + +In half a dozen minutes they were landed at the foot of the flight of +steps leading up to the summer pavilion. + +It was so quiet in this secluded spot that, to any one totally alone, +the stillness would have been oppressive. Not a breath ruffled the +leaves, not a solitary bird’s twitter broke the silence. + +The pavilion was situated in the central part of a great clump of +trees, nestling amid its rich, encircling foliage like an indolent +beauty lying among velvet cushions. + +Partly oppressed by the dreamlike silence, and the sultriness of the +day, the young girls ascended and seated themselves, Blanche on the +first step, Lois on one of the fragile wicker chairs. + +They forgot to secure their tiny bark, nor did they observe that after +a while it began to drift beyond their reach. + +Neither seemed inclined to break the silence that was partly soothing, +partly oppressive. When two people have only recently been introduced, +even if mutually desirous of extending their knowledge of one another, +it is rather difficult to start an interesting train of conversation +when the trivialities of the moment have been exhausted. + +Blanche Dormer, however, was never very long at a loss. She was soon in +the midst of a rattling talk such as she enjoyed. + +“Have you ever been in this part of the world before?” she asked. + +“Never.” + +“You have no friends in the neighborhood?” + +“None whatever. I have very few friends anywhere.” + +“You will have plenty soon,” Miss Dormer philosophically remarked. “I +understand you were Lady Quaintree’s companion?” + +“Yes. I have been with her since I was fourteen.” + +“Are you a relative?” + +“Oh! dear no. My mother was--was born in quite a different station. She +was an embroideress. But she died, and Lady Quaintree was good enough +to take an interest in me, and become my protectress.” + +“How kind! She is a dear, good soul. And so now you are a great +heiress. You had some rich relations, then?” + +“I don’t think I had a relative in the world except my dear mother,” +said Lois, a little sadly. + +Blanche Dormer opened her eyes. Miss Dormer was related to half the +wealthy commons of England. + +“No relations!” she exclaimed, forgetting that she was guilty of an +outrageous breach of good manners in thus expressing surprise. “How +very strange! I thought you had inherited this place and sacks of money +from your uncle.” + +Lois shook her head. + +“I had no uncles that I am aware of. My father died when I was a baby, +and I never heard my mother speak of his relatives. She herself was an +only child.” + +“Then why----” + +Miss Dormer stopped abruptly, and blushed a little. Lois laughed as she +noticed the hesitation. + +“Why did Mr. Gardiner make me a person of property?” she supplied. “I +cannot tell you, for, although I read his will, I have not seen the +slightest hint of his reasons for being so generous. To tell you the +truth, I have been puzzling over it ever since.” + +“What a romantic mystery! Are you sure he was not related to you, my +dear?” + +“If he had been, they would certainly have told me so.” + +“Did anybody offer you any explanation of his reasons for leaving you +his property?” asked Blanche, whose curiosity was strongly excited on +the subject. + +“No.” + +“Did you ask? Forgive me. I am afraid you will think I am taking +unwarrantable liberties in thus cross-questioning you,” apologized Miss +Dormer. + +“No, I do not think so in the least. I feel happy to think you will be +my friend,” replied Lois softly. “I did not ask any questions about Mr. +Gardiner’s will, because----” + +She suddenly remembered why she had felt tongue-tied, and her face +became suffused with crimson. Blanche, who was steadily regarding her, +was much surprised by this evidence of emotion; but, although her +curiosity was still further aroused, she had sufficient delicacy to +restrain herself, and adroitly to change the subject of conversation. + +She began to speak about the departure of troops from the barracks, +which were situated a couple of miles from the vicinity of her father’s +house. This gave Lois an opportunity of recovering her composure, for +which she felt grateful, although if Blanche had pressed her much +further she would have confided to her the embarrassing circumstances +to which Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will was likely to lead. + +As Miss Dormer chatted gaily, heavy splashes of rain came suddenly +pattering through the clustering leaves, and a vivid flash of +lightning, followed almost instantaneously by a crashing peal of +thunder, startled the girls, and made them hurriedly retreat into the +pretty pavilion. + +The day had changed as if by magic. The sky was overcast with driving +clouds like squadrons of artillery, the sun had disappeared, the whole +aspect of the bright garden and the smiling lake had altered as if by +the wave of the wand of some malicious fairy. + +A summer storm had burst over the heads of these timid girls, and they +looked at each other in dismay. It was a situation likely to become +extremely unpleasant. No one knew that they were here. Even if their +screams could be heard, it would be difficult for any one to reach the +place, as the tiny wherry was drifting about, out of reach. + +The waters of the lake began to foam and lash with frenzy. Every +instant the storm increased in fury. The girls clung to one another in +affright, unable to help shrieking when a blue-forked flame encircled +them, or a prolonged roar, as of besieging artillery, seemed to rend +the heavens asunder. + +Each moment it seemed as if they must be slain in that fervent embrace. + +A flash of lightning, more piercing than any that had preceded it, +swept in a jagged curve over the pavilion, and a peal of thunder shook +the fragile building to its foundations. Terrified almost beyond +expression, Lois clung more closely to Blanche, and then fell back +into her arms in a dead swoon. + +Before Blanche could collect her thoughts, herself terror-stricken +almost to the verge of insanity, a panel, which had looked as if merely +a portion of the highly finished decorations of the airy walls, slid +back, and a gentleman suddenly faced the young girl, as she placed Lois +in a chair. + +This gentleman was Paul Desfrayne. + +It would be difficult to say which felt or mutely expressed the most +surprise, Miss Dormer or the stranger. They gazed at one another in +amazement for a moment or two, and then the young man, lifting his cap +with mechanical politeness, advanced. + +By his military undress uniform, Blanche judged him to be one of the +newly arrived officers, but how he had appeared as if from the solid +walls, she could not conceive. + +From the position of Miss Dormer, who stood partly in front of Lois, +Captain Desfrayne could not see the fainting girl’s face, but his heart +sorely misgave him as to her identity. + +“Madam,” he said, looking at Blanche with surprise and compassion, “how +is it that I find you in such a perilous position?” + +Blanche, in a few words, explained. Then she turned again to her +friend, and, kneeling before her, tried by every device to restore her +to consciousness. + +“Good heavens, Miss Turquand!” murmured Captain Desfrayne, under his +breath. + +Faint as his tones were, however, they caught the quick ear of Blanche +Dormer. + +“You know her, sir?” she exclaimed, looking up in his face. + +“I can scarcely claim that privilege,” he replied, with icy coldness. + +He stepped quickly to the door, plucked a large, strong leaf from the +overhanging branches, which he twisted into a cup, and, filling it with +water by descending the steps and dipping it in the lake, returned, and +gave it to Blanche. + +Then he stood by, gazing with an uncontrollable interest upon the +white, delicately chiseled face of the unconscious Lois. + +“She has been alarmed by the storm?” he said presently, as Lois began +to show symptoms of returning life. “You must not remain here.” + +“How can we escape?” demanded Blanche. + +“By the way I came. It leads by a succession of corridors to a ruined +abbey, from whence again you can reach the Hall by passing through a +labyrinth of secret vaults and passages.” + +Blanche turned pale. Even this place, insecure as the shelter was, did +not appear so alarming as the way of escape indicated. + +Paul Desfrayne smiled--that half-melancholy, winning smile that had +such a charm of its own. + +“It sounds rather terrifying,” he said gently. “But as I see you have +let your boat drift away, you cannot reach the house by way of the +lake. Even if you had your boat, the waters are too dangerous to be +trusted, and this storm may not abate for a couple of hours. Do not be +afraid. I know every turn well, for I used to come here constantly when +a boy. There is no other road to the house. I presume you have come +from the Hall?” he abruptly asked. “I was informed that Miss Turquand +had come to stay for a few days there, and so I supposed----” + +“We rowed across the lake only about half an hour ago, and then the +sky looked as clear as--as if it were never going to rain any more,” +Blanche explained. + +“You have no wraps of any kind?” he added, glancing with an odd sort +of half-paternal compassion at the silken draperies of Lois, and the +cloudy azure-blue and white skirts of her beautiful friend. + +Before Miss Dormer could reply, if reply were needed--for nothing in +the shape of protection against bad weather, except one large sunshade, +was visible--Lois opened her eyes. + +The young officer drew back slightly, but he was the first object upon +which her gaze rested. + +She roused herself, and sat up. + +“Are you better, dearest?” anxiously asked Blanche. + +Lois did not answer, but tried to rise from her chair. She looked at +the young man who was regarding her with so much profound interest, and +a rosy blush overspread her face. + +“Captain Desfrayne!” she murmured. + +He advanced one step, then paused. + +“You are probably surprised to see me here, Miss Turquand,” he said. +“Perhaps not more surprised than I am to find myself within these +walls, or to discover you here. I came out for a ride, and scarcely +noticed which road my horse took, until I was overtaken by the storm. +But you must not remain here. The sooner you quit this place the +better. The storm shows no signs of abating. Will you permit me to be +your guide? Are you strong enough to walk, Miss Turquand?” + +Blanche put her arms about Lois to support her. Lois moved forward a +few steps; but the agitation, however pleasant, of the last few days, +the nervous trepidation caused by the storm, acting on a singularly +susceptible temperament, and the weakness induced by her fainting-fit, +proved too much for her to contend against, and she swayed again, +sinking into the arms of Blanche, who caught her. + +Paul Desfrayne’s lips compressed very firmly as he looked at the young +girl thus lying helpless. For a moment he reflected. + +“I must not be a coward,” he argued with himself. “What folly! It +cannot signify to me. The sooner we are out of this situation the +better.” + +Then he addressed Blanche with a calm, self-possessed manner, strangely +at variance with his real feelings. + +“You must allow me to be more than your guide. There is serious danger +in your remaining here. May I carry your friend?” + +There was no choice but to comply. He took Lois from the arms of her +companion, and lifted her in his own strong, firm clasp. He glanced +down at the pale, statuesque face as it rested against his shoulder, +but it was impossible to even guess at his thoughts from the expression +upon his countenance, which was that of perfect impassibility, though +a certain eager interest lurked in his eyes. + +Through the door by which he had so unexpectedly entered, down a long, +apparently interminable flight of somewhat steep steps, along one dim +corridor after another, until Blanche began to feel bewildered, and to +imagine herself in a dream. + +She did not attempt to address a solitary remark to the friend who +had so suddenly come like a knight of old to the rescue of distressed +damsels, but followed him with implicit faith as he strode with a quick +step onward. + +Once he turned his head and spoke, as if he guessed she must feel +mystified, or to break the current of his own unpleasant thoughts. + +“These passages are very confusing to any one not thoroughly acquainted +with the various turnings. I believe their origin is unknown, though +the tradition still exists of many a strange legend of how cavaliers +escaped their pursuers this way, and fled to the friendly sea.” + +Nothing more was said, and the strange procession moved on until the +fresh air blew in, and the dash of the sullen rain, the soughing of the +trees, told that they were near the entrance. + +Left without guidance, Blanche could not have formed the most distant +idea of where she was, or which way to take. She could see nothing but +a wide expanse of rain-blotted gray-green, looking at this moment the +picture of desolation. + +Paul Desfrayne did not emerge upon the wild, stormy scene without, +however. He pushed open a door apparently hewn from solid stone, and +entered a small, dimly lighted chapel. It was a circular building, half +in ruins, though the beautiful stained-glass windows were almost intact. + +With the most tender care, Paul Desfrayne placed his inanimate charge +upon one of the carved oaken seats, and then stood by, watching her. + +A half-sobbing sigh told that the young girl was reviving, and she +turned wildly, to seek for Blanche. + +“You are safe now, if in some discomfort,” said Captain Desfrayne, +in a reassuring tone, though he partially averted his gaze. “Will +you remain here until I summon assistance? Are you afraid to stay +unprotected? There is not the slightest fear of any intrusion. If any +living being come within these walls, it will be only some country lout +seeking shelter from the storm.” + +“Where are we?” asked Lois, looking about her as if still half-dazed. + +“Within the walls of an old ruined abbey about three-quarters of a mile +from--from Flore Hall.” He pronounced the name of the place with some +difficulty, as if it were distasteful to him. + +“But you will be obliged to go through the rain,” objected Blanche, who +was pleased by the handsome face and chivalrous bearing of the captain. + +“No. If necessary, I should not hesitate to do so. My horse is waiting +for me under shelter in a ruined stable close by, and I could soon ride +the distance. But my desire to aid you will not be put to any trial. +There are rude, covered, subterranean passages from this spot to the +Hall, and I can easily traverse them, for I know every inch of the +ground.” + +“What thanks do we not owe you, sir!” exclaimed Miss Dormer. + +Lois remained silent, her eyes bent on the ground, her color varying +with each wave of thought that passed through her brain. + +Partly rejoiced at his temporary release, partly dubious of the +propriety of quitting these timid girls, Captain Desfrayne turned to go +on his errand. + +As he did so, a shuffling noise startled the three. They turned +simultaneously, in alarm, and saw a big, shock-headed country boy, +apparently shaking himself awake, rising from a seat veiled in such +dim obscurity that none of the little group had noticed the recumbent +figure. + +The boy had taken refuge from the raging tempest here, and had after +a while dropped off asleep. Half-awakened by the voices, he had dimly +heard the conversation. + +“Please, zur,” he said, lugging at some stray locks of red hair lying +on his freckled forehead, “do’ee want onybody to run a message to thay +Hall, zur? ’Cause, if so be ’ee do, I be main glad to do it for your +honor, zur.” + +Captain Desfrayne looked at him in mingled doubt and displeasure. He +reflected for a moment or two, then said: + +“How would you get to the Hall, boy?” + +“Why, zur, along thay dark places with thay pillars.” + +“Are you sure you know the way, my lad?” + +“Zartain zure, zur. Whoy, often’s been the time when me, and Bill +Heath, and Joe Tollard, and all thay rest o’ ’em hev played hoide and +zeek in ’em. Oh! I knows thay way, zure enough.” + +It would not be possible to refuse to allow this eager substitute to go +on the pressing errand he had himself contemplated. Paul Desfrayne was +compelled to let him go. + +“Well, make haste, and bring somebody to take care of these young +ladies,” he said. “What is your name--Robin Roughhead?” + +“No, zur--George Netherclift.” + +“Well, Master George Netherclift, if ever you made haste in your life, +do so now.” + +The boy--a great lumping lad of fourteen or fifteen, with a stolid, +good-humored, red-yellow face, and a thick-set figure, clad in a +smock frock and a pair of tough corduroy trousers--started on with +more nimbleness than any one would have given him credit for. In the +silence, his clattering, hob-nailed boots raised countless echoes in +the rude, vaulted passages as he trotted along. + +An uncomfortable embarrassment succeeded his departure. Lois felt +ashamed of her weakness, and abashed in the presence of the tall, +handsome captain, unable to forget the secret link that in a measure +bound their lives together. Paul Desfrayne almost cursed the destiny +that had thus dragged him within those dangerous precincts he would +fain shun. Blanche Dormer caught the infection from these two, who were +acquainted with each other, yet seemed to make some mystery of the +matter, and so she remained silent. + +Lois dared not lift her eyes from the ground. Paul Desfrayne stood at +some distance, viewing the rain as it plashed down, and regarding the +now more rarely recurring flashes of lightning with an absent air, as +if his real thoughts were far away. + +On setting out for his ride, he had permitted his horse to take any +road that presented itself, seeing that the way led far from the +neighborhood of Flore Hall. After a while he had almost dropped the +reins on the animal’s neck, and allowed his mind to revert to the +painful subject of his most unhappy position--a subject but seldom +out of his memory. He had ridden slowly for a long distance from the +barracks when the first pattering drops of rain came splashing down. +Seeing that the sky was overcast by dense black clouds, and hearing +the distant rumbling of the thunder, he had looked about for some +convenient shelter, and then, to his great surprise, found himself +close by the ruined abbey he so well remembered. + +Dismounting, he had secured his horse in an old ruined stable, and +then entered the familiar place, his feelings not all pain, yet not +all pleasure. That any one should have ventured to the summer pavilion +he did not for a moment imagine. Wishing to see as much of the spot as +possible while he could do so in safety, he had rapidly traversed the +dim corridors, and, opening the door in the paneling of the wall, had +come upon the two young girls. + +For the first time now he recollected that he had left his faithful +Greyburn alone for some time, and feared that perhaps the poor animal +might have been frightened by the fury of the tempest. + +“I trust you will not be alarmed if I leave you for a few moments to +look after my horse. I left him, as I think I told you, in a ruined +stable close at hand; but I should be glad to know how he fares,” said +Captain Desfrayne, as the echoes of George Netherclift’s heavy steps +died away. + +“Oh! pray see him,” cried both girls. + +“I shall not be gone for more than a few minutes, and I shall be within +call,” said the young man. + +He went out, leaving the two young ladies together. As he departed, he +glanced for an instant at Lois. + +The lovely, fathomless eyes were raised to his. He gazed as if +spellbound into the dreamy, liquid depths. Then, with an indefinable +expression of mingled emotion, he abruptly disappeared behind the angle +of the old Gothic porch. + +Lois’ heart seemed to stand still for a second, then began to beat with +such rapidity that she put her hand to her side to stay its throbbing. +Then she looked at Blanche, who began to think that the mystery was +simply that the two lovers who had quarreled had unexpectedly met +again, and that pride, or the presence of a third--herself--hindered a +reconciliation. + +In answer to a question from Miss Turquand, she explained how they +had come hither. A vivid flash dyed the pale cheeks of Lois when she +learned how she had been conveyed to this unknown locality. + +How little had she anticipated a meeting such as this in wondering +where she should see Paul Desfrayne again! How little had she dreamed +of it on Saturday afternoon, when she had encountered him among the +gaily dressed loungers in the Zoological Gardens! + +It seemed as if she had known him half a lifetime now, from some +strange affinity that made his presence, his voice, his face familiar. +And yet one short week ago she had been ignorant of his very existence. + +Frank Amberley, whom she had seen almost daily for four years--the four +years that had brought her from childhood to fairest maidenhood--was +forgotten, save when actually present, and then regarded as belonging +to the most formal rank of friends. She would never, unless under +pressure of some most extraordinary difficulty, have thought of +consulting him, or seeking his aid in any way whatever. + +Blanche Dormer drew out her tiny jeweled watch. + +“What will mama think, do, or say?” she exclaimed. “It will be enough +to drive her crazy. Good heavens! my dearest Miss Turquand, they will +imagine we have been capsized into the lake when they see the boat +drifting about. When mama’s fright is over, I shall be in horrible +disgrace. Such a thing never happened in all the nineteen years of +my life. Lady Quaintree will be like a maniac. I shall never forgive +myself.” + +Lois felt Miss Dormer was speaking the truth, and could not think of +one solitary iota of consolation. + +They sat very silent, waiting for release from their exceedingly +disagreeable and irksome situation. + +Blanche was partly right in her conjectures; but fortunately not so +far as her fears pictured. The two ladies, absorbed in their ancient +memories, were so occupied that they did not observe the coming storm +till the first violent roll of thunder, or rather the advanced flash +of blue, forked lightning, made one jump from her seat with a scream, +and caused the other to drop her dainty Sèvres cup with a crash on the +white bearskin at her feet. + +They knew that the girls had gone for a walk in the grounds; but hoped +they had taken warning and returned. Lady Quaintree had rung with a +jerk for her maid, Justine, to demand if the young ladies had come in. + +Justine said she thought they had, and went off to ascertain. But, +unhappily, she had loitered, under pretense of being frightened by the +thunder and lightning, in company with a tall footman, who professed +to be very much in love with her. Partly by his persuasion to linger, +partly from her own inclination to indulge in a stolen flirtation, +she stayed until minutes stole into an hour, and she had completely +forgotten her errand. + +Finding she did not return, Lady Quaintree took it for granted the +young ladies had come in, but perhaps with drenched garments, and that +Justine was staying to help them in changing their attire. + +Fully persuaded that this must be the case, the two dames resumed their +conversation, though in a more subdued key. They were not nervous or +easily frightened by the electrical influences which had so seriously +disturbed the young girls, and, Lady Quaintree having coolly drawn the +lace curtains across the windows, they sat quite contentedly. It at +length occurred to them as odd that neither Lois Turquand nor Blanche +should present herself. + +Lady Quaintree rang again. + +“Where is Miss Turquand?--where is Miss Dormer?” she inquired of the +domestic who appeared. + +“I don’t know, my lady,” replied the man. + +“Where is my maid?” + +“I don’t know, my lady.” + +“Find her, then, and tell her to request the young ladies to come here +directly.” + +Presently the fellow came back, with the alarming information that +neither the young ladies nor Justine were to be found. + +“Good heavens!” cried her ladyship, unable to credit her ears. “Not to +be found? Impossible! Nonsense! They _must_ be found! Why, my maid left +me a short time since to seek for Miss Turquand and Miss Dormer. Oh! +this is absurd!” + +The man departed again on a search that proved useless. He presented +himself again, fearfully, to tell her ladyship so. + +The truth about Justine was that, recollecting her message suddenly, +she had flown to Miss Turquand’s room, and then to all the probable and +even improbable places where the young ladies might be found; but, of +course, without coming on any trace of the missing ones. + +Thoroughly alarmed, marveling what had become of them, and not daring +to go back to her mistress, she had darted wildly all over the house, +making inquiries of everybody she met. + +Several of the domestics had seen the young ladies go out, but no one +had seen them return. + +Forgetful, in her sore affright, of her nervous tremors in a storm, +Justine had rushed into the grounds, armed with a big umbrella +snatched up in passing through the entrance-hall. Thus her otherwise +unaccountable disappearance was to be explained. + +In a short time the entire household was astir, alarmed by the +discovery that the young ladies were not within the Hall. If not there, +where were they? Of necessity, they must be out in the grounds, perhaps +in the porter’s lodge. + +One servant ran down to the lodge, only to bring back word that the +young ladies had never been there. + +Others scattered themselves over the gardens, seeking in the +conservatories and graperies, in the plantations, in every imaginable +place. + +It was the gardener who came to the horrifying conclusion that the +girls had ventured on the lake in the flimsy boat, and had been +capsized. + +He found Justine wandering near the borders of the water in a state of +distraction. She could not tell that the boat had been safely moored +that morning and in the early afternoon, but she had paused here. + +The gardener imprudently betrayed his suspicion, and had the +satisfaction of seeing Mademoiselle Justine fall in a heap, in violent +hysterics, objurgating herself in disjointed sentences between whiles. + +In a very short time, the alarming suspicion was communicated to the +whole household, except the ladies, who were awaiting the result of the +search in terrible anxiety, but not of positive fear, for they were +sure now that the girls had sought some convenient shelter, where they +were biding till the storm ceased. + +A hurried consultation was held as to what should be done; but no one +could offer a suggestion that promised to be of the smallest service. + +The domestics retreated into a great greenhouse, where they could +command a view of the lake, the waters of which now bore a sensational +attraction in the eyes of the terrified servants. + +No one could take the direction of affairs, for they were all +subordinate servants, ignorant, and easily distracted. + +It was agreed, finally, to go and consult Mrs. Ormsby, on whom the task +of breaking the tragical surmise to the ladies would fall. + +Justine had been carried into a conservatory, to get her out of the +way, and left there with a couple of housemaids. + +A sad procession scrambled back to the house--a somewhat noisy one, for +every one had some eager, excited remark to make, or some wondering +exclamation to utter. + +Mrs. Ormsby was at the top of the broad flight of steps at the +principal entrance, watching for the earliest information. She did not +venture to remain near Lady Quaintree or Mrs. Dormer, but stood midway, +as it were, between the terrified ladies and the band of explorers. As +they approached, she could plainly see the search had been unsuccessful. + +Two or three eagerly came in advance of their fellows, their mouths and +eyes wide open, their visages full of excitement. + +They had not yet begun to make their story intelligible, however, when +a loud shout, in a boyish treble, made every one look round; and a +thick-set lout was seen running toward them, waving his hands in sign +that his business was of a most urgent nature, that would not brook +delay. This boy was George Netherclift. + +He had, they all felt at once, come with some news of the missing ones. +But what kind of news? Were they to hear confirmation of a tragedy? Or +were the young ladies safe and sound? + +George Netherclift had been running the latter part of the way, and was +considerably out of breath. As he paused, he glanced from one of the +servants to another, in doubt as to which to address. + +“Well, boy,” exclaimed Mrs. Ormsby, in a sharp tone, “what do you want? +Speak quickly!” + +“Zoombody to bring thay young ladies from thay ould abbey,” said the +boy. “Be quick, if ’ee please. They’ll be main tired waiting.” + +“They are safe and sound, then?” cried the housekeeper. “But how in the +world did they get to the ruined abbey?” + +“Doan’t know, missus. Perhaps they’ull know theysells. Will ’ee zend +zoombody quick, please?” + +Of course, three or four male servants were at once ready to accompany +him. Mrs. Ormsby at first thought of sending the carriage, but the +abbey was nearly two miles off by the road. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +PAUL DESFRAYNE’S REFLECTIONS. + + +With a heart as heavy as lead, Paul Desfrayne turned back to rejoin +the two girls, when he had ascertained that, though trembling a little +from nervous fright, his horse, Greyburn, was quite safe. He thought +what a fortunate dispensation of Providence it would have been had the +One Hundred and Tenth Regiment been ordered on foreign service--say, to +China or Timbuctoo. + +How many poor fellows had been separated from all they loved best, +never to behold adored faces more this side the grave, banished into +semisolitude, while he was forced to abide within range of his dreaded +Nemesis! + +When he again appeared within the little chapel, he was by no means +lively company. Cold, abstracted, silent, he seemed to make no effort +to arouse himself. He was thinking, indeed, as his eyes wandered to the +high windows through which the steady downpour of rain could be clearly +seen, what a striking emblem of his life this black, pitiless storm +might be. + +Lois regarded him through her long, drooping eyelashes with mingled +feelings of admiration and pique. Her belief that his thoughts were +with another gained fresh impetus. + +“Yet,” she said to herself, “why need he be so uncivil to me? Perhaps +he imagines that if he were to be ordinarily attentive, I might flatter +myself he meant to ask me to fulfil the hateful bargain. I would not +marry him if he tried to persuade me to-morrow.” + +The hot blood swept in wrathful waves over her face, just now paled by +affright and her fit of syncope. Anger made her draw her slight figure +up to its full height; and when Captain Desfrayne turned and addressed +some trifling remark to her, she replied with a frigid coldness that +struck even herself as being ungrateful and ungracious. + +Blanche was more than ever persuaded that there had been a stormy +quarrel, and that even yet neither chose to advance one step toward +reconciliation. + +It was a relief to the three when hurrying footsteps and the sound of +excited voices showed that help was at hand. + +In a few minutes several men servants, headed by the rough-pated boy +who had gone in search of them, were pressing into the chapel. One +carried shawls and wraps, and another some wine, in case the young +ladies and their deliverer should be faint. + +“Oh, dear!--oh, dear!--oh, dear!” cried Blanche, with a great sigh. +“What _will_ mama and Lady Quaintree say? How I shall be scolded and +cried over! It has been my fault entirely.” + +“We were both to blame,” answered Lois. + +“No; I planned our escapade, and persuaded you, and forgot to make our +boat fast.” + +“The boat would have been of no use to you, Miss Dormer, in such a +storm,” said Captain Desfrayne. + +“True. It has been a most unlucky affair altogether,” sighed Blanche. + +“I presume you are now quite safe in charge of these good people,” +said the young man. “There will be no impropriety in leaving you, I +trust--you and Miss Turquand?” + +He bent his eyes on the floor, fixing them on a flat tombstone at his +feet, as if feeling half-guilty in thus wishing to desert them. + +“Why do you need to leave us, Captain Desfrayne?” demanded Blanche, +in a sharp, ringing tone, indicating great surprise and a dash of +displeasure. “Are you obliged to go?” + +“I--I must return to my quarters,” answered he, still avoiding her +glance. + +“Oh! it will be impossible for you to go without seeing Lady Quaintree, +at least,” protested Miss Dormer. “Besides, it is nearer to the +barracks from the principal gates of the Hall. You must, at least, pass +through with us, and just see Lady Quaintree and mama.” + +Paul glanced swiftly at Lois. She was standing up, the pride of a young +empress dilating her figure, displayed in the turn of her head. Her +face was half-averted, as if she would not deign to take part in the +argument, but her fingers were twitching nervously in one another. + +“Why should this strange mistrust--this presentiment of deadly ill, +haunt me?” Paul asked himself. “There is no danger of my falling in +love with this girl, and as little of her honoring me with any tender +regards. Probably her heart is already fully occupied with the image of +some one else. This vague fear is simply absurd, and I must master it. +I am unwell, and my nerves are unstrung. Perhaps I may shortly find an +opportunity of explaining to her how I am really situated. It would be +better to speak to her myself than to leave the painful duty to others.” + +He gave way to Blanche’s arguments, with a tolerable grace, though +alleging that he saw no reason why he should feel it necessary to see +the elder ladies. + +One of the servants was directed to get his horse, and bring it round +to the front of Flore Hall; then the party moved in the direction of +the house. + +Lois was determined on not giving way again, but she was faint and +giddy, and at length was compelled to accept the support of Paul +Desfrayne’s arm. + +Not a word was exchanged on the way, though it seemed of a wearisome +length. + +Another profound sigh escaped Blanche as they reached the end. + +“I am thankful we have you, Captain Desfrayne, as a sort of shield,” +she half-laughingly exclaimed. “They cannot scold us so terribly when +you are by, and when you depart the worst will be over.” + +Mrs. Ormsby had informed Lady Quaintree and Mrs. Dormer of the state of +affairs; but although aware that the girls were in safety, the ladies +had fallen into dreadful agitation. + +The meeting might readily be imagined, but would baffle description. +For some minutes the elder ladies were so much absorbed by rejoicings, +tears, kisses, reproaches, that they hardly noticed the stranger. + +When Lois and Blanche had managed to give some intelligible account of +their adventures, Paul Desfrayne was obliged to undergo a fresh shower +of thanks, which were most distasteful to him. + +“How can I contrive to escape?” he was asking himself, when Lady +Quaintree startled him by saying: + +“And we must really insist on your staying to dinner, Captain +Desfrayne. You would catch your death of cold if you were to go out +again while this heavy rain lasts.” + +The young man started back. + +“You are very kind, madam,” he murmured. “But I--I could not stay, I +assure you.” + +“Come, sir, I must exercise an old woman’s authority, and forbid you +to leave us,” cried Lady Quaintree laughingly. “Your mother is, I may +say, an old friend of mine, and I could not answer to her if her son +met with any mishap on leaving any house where I might be supposed to +have a voice. We owe you the safety of these wilful girls, and you must +allow us to see to your welfare. If the rain does not abate, you must +not ride back, but, if you refuse to honor us by remaining under this +roof for the night, must accept the use of one of the carriages in the +coach-house.” + +Lady Quaintree was playing against her own interests; but common +charity would not have permitted her to let a dog go out in that +sullen, dashing, persistent rain. + +Paul Desfrayne looked at the disheartening prospect from the windows, +and resigned himself to his fate. + +Without, all looked so dismal and forbidding--out _there_, where +his evil past lay crouching, ever ready to spring up and confront +him. Within here all seemed so soft and inviting with this white and +gold, and velvet couches, and flowers in rich profusion, and these +dulcet-toned, high-bred women, symbolic of the brilliant, tempting +present, which beckoned to him, sirenlike. + +“You are very kind--too kind, madam,” he said, bowing low, and speaking +in a constrained, husky voice. + +So it was settled he should dine with them; and the girls went away to +change their dresses. + +Mama Dormer had brought a small portmanteau over in the carriage with +her, containing “a few things” required by Blanche during her brief +stay. + +Lois being in black did not need much alteration in her attire, but +by means of a trained, black skirt, and a thin, high, white bodice, +and a suite of jet ornaments, she contrived to make an effective +dinner-costume. + +By the time they rustled back to the drawing-room, where the little +party was to assemble for dinner, the servants were lighting the wax +tapers, causing a soft glitter to illuminate the apartment. + +The rain had ceased. The sultry heat began to come back, and all the +windows had been thrown open, admitting the luscious odors of the +countless flowers in the gardens. The scent of the summer roses was +almost overcoming after the rain. + +The last, dying rays of the setting sun dyed the sky, from which all +but a few floating, feathery clouds had vanished away. + +Lois and Blanche looked irresistibly beautiful as they entered the +room, the one in her simple, somber attire, the other in a shimmering +green silken robe, trimmed with white lace, and frilled fine muslin. + +As Lois came in, Paul Desfrayne’s eyes met hers, and by some mysterious +fascination, neither he nor she could remove their gaze. + +The young girl trembled from some undefined feeling--a sense of mingled +pain and pleasure. + +Paul felt as if some gauntleted hand had mercilessly compressed his +heart. He shivered as if from cold. + +“I believe some malignant genius drove me out this day,” he thought. + +Lois averted her eyes by a violent effort of will. + +“Why does he look at me like this, when he is so cold and repellent in +his manners?” she indignantly asked herself. + +Lady Quaintree caught the glance, and partly interpreted the looks of +both. + +“I wish I had had the sense to stop at home,” she said mentally. “I +am afraid my Gerald’s chance will be a small one. We really must get +away to-morrow at latest. Luckily, the gallant knight errant is pinned +safely down in this remote part of the world, and I must coax Lois to +go to Switzerland, or some other comfortable place, to give my boy a +fair start in the race.” + +Her ladyship kept a pretty sharp watch on the two young people--Lois +and her handsome young trustee. But, during dinner, nothing rewarded +her for her vigilance, or, to speak more correctly, she was absolutely +rewarded by observing that they did not once exchange a look, and only +noticed each other’s presence when obliged to do so by the etiquette of +the table. + +This apparent mutual misunderstanding puzzled her a good deal. Captain +Desfrayne’s reserved manner with his beautiful young charge perplexed +her extremely. That he should not endeavor to improve his opportunity +of obtaining favor with the young girl seemed inexplicable; and when +she found that both were evidently resolved on steadfastly declining to +pass the ice-bound line that divided them, she marveled more and more. + +“There is some undercurrent here which I do not understand,” she +thought. “It seems strange, but there is certainly some ill-will +between them. What can the matter be?” + +Had not Lois been her constant companion for the last four years, +during which time the young girl had been completely ignorant of Paul +Desfrayne’s existence, Lady Quaintree might have imagined, with Blanche +Dormer, that there was a lovers’ quarrel. + +After cudgeling her brains for an explanation of this mystery, a +possible solution presented itself. Lady Quaintree knew family pride to +be one of Mrs. Desfrayne’s weak points, and perhaps this peculiarity +might be magnified in her son. Remembering that if the refusal to obey +the old man’s whim came from his side, it would involve on his part +a heavy pecuniary loss, she concluded that he wished to induce Miss +Turquand to think him a very undesirable lover, and thus to cause the +refusal to come from her. + +This view having presented itself, her ladyship wavered in the +resolution of at once quitting Flore Hall. If Captain Desfrayne was +determined not to profit by his advantageous position, but to drive +Miss Turquand to refuse him, would he not be an eligible ally? + +Many a girl, she knew, slighted by one, eagerly if hastily accepted the +next that offered. + +Yet, until she could ascertain _why_ Paul Desfrayne did not relish +the bride proposed to him, she might be playing a dangerous game in +allowing him to be too near her lovely protégée. + +Lady Quaintree felt thoroughly perplexed and unsettled, in fact, and +could only arrive finally at the conclusion that the wisest plan would +be to let herself be guided by a cautious observation of the course of +events. + +“I wish we could have brought Gerald down with us,” she sighed. +“However, the way must be clearer in a few days.” + +At Lois’ earnest entreaty, Lady Quaintree had taken all but the actual +name of mistress in the house. She sat at the head of the table, and +played the role of hostess. Owing to her consummate tact, the dinner +did not pass so drearily as it might otherwise have done. + +She gave the signal to rise, and smilingly told Captain Desfrayne he +should have half an hour’s grace to smoke a cigar if he pleased. + +The ladies adjourned to the white drawing-room, where a soft glitter of +wax tapers shed a pleasant, mellow light. + +Squire Dormer had arranged to come for his wife and daughter at eight +or nine o’clock. When the storm broke, Mrs. Dormer had feared she +might be obliged to stay all night, but now the sky had cleared, the +sultry heat already nearly dried up the pools of water lying on the +garden-walks, and the silver moon had risen in royal splendor. + +Blanche flew to the piano--a superb instrument as far as appearance +went, but it was very decidedly out of tune. There was no music +anywhere visible, but Miss Dormer sat down and began playing morsels +and snatches of melody from recollection. Then she asked Lois to sing. + +Lois had always been accustomed to so implicitly obey the wishes +of those about her, that she did not think of refusing, but took +Blanche’s seat and ran her fingers skilfully over the keys. + +“I don’t feel very well,” she mildly protested. “But I will do my best.” + +“Don’t overexert yourself, my love,” said Lady Quaintree. + +“I should be delighted to hear you,” Mrs. Dormer remarked, almost at +the same moment. + +Captain Desfrayne heard the chords of the piano from his solitary +retreat, and, being passionately fond of music, he came out on the +terrace and moved into the leafy shadow, from whence he could view the +interior of the drawing-room without being himself seen. + +Lois had just seated herself as he took up this station. The mellow, +amber rays of the wax lights fell on her graceful figure and on her +stately head. From the spot where he stood, Paul Desfrayne could watch +her every movement. Unconsciously to himself, he drank in the sweet +poison of love at every glance as he observed the pure, statuesque +lines and curves of that queenly form, the rich, silken shimmer of the +lovely hair, the harmonious, suave grace of each motion. + +“I will summon up courage to-night, if I can possibly find an +opportunity,” he thought, “and tell her the truth. I may have a chance +of speaking to her. After to-night, it will probably be months before +we meet again, if we ever do meet. She seems sweet and amiable; she is +undoubtedly as beautiful as a dream. Probably she will pity my unhappy +position, and sympathize with my misfortunes, even if they arise from +my own folly. What a madman I have been! Truly they say: ‘Marry in +haste, repent at leisure.’ What would I not give or do to be free once +more!” + +Lois began to sing. She had thought for a minute or two, and then +struck the chords of a graceful symphony to a pathetic Irish air. + +Her voice was clear and deliciously sweet--pure as that of an angel. +Thanks to Lady Quaintree, it had been most carefully trained, and the +young girl had a sensitive feeling for the words as well as the music +of what she sang. + +Paul Desfrayne’s relentless memory went back to those feverish days +when he had listened, spellbound in that heated theater at Florence, to +the siren notes of the woman who had destroyed his happiness. + +The contrast between Lucia Guiscardini and Lois Turquand was as great +as between darkness and light. In every respect they totally differed. +The one was a magnificent tigress, regal in beauty, haughty and +unbending in temper; the other a gentle white doe, lovely and soft. + +Presently the song ceased. Blanche’s laced handkerchief stole to her +eyes for a moment, then she kissed her friend by way of thanks. There +was a little buzz of well-bred, musical voices for a minute or two, and +then the girls emerged on the upper terrace as if coming out to breathe +the fresh air. + +Paul Desfrayne drew back still farther within the sheltering gloom, +rendered all the more secure by the increasing splendor of the +moonlight, which caused strange, sudden contrasts of light and shade in +the gardens. The faint scent of his cigar might have warned the girls +of his proximity, but they did not notice it. He was, however, out of +ear-shot. + +For a moment he thought of ascending the short flight of steps leading +from the lower to the upper terrace, but feeling that in his present +depressed state he would be poor company, he elected to stay where he +was. + +Within half an hour he resolved to take leave of his entertainers, and +ride home. + +“Home!” he said to himself bitterly. “I have no home--no prospect of +home. No home, no peace, no rest. I am like a gambler who has staked +and lost a fortune at one fatal throw. And my unrest is made all the +more poignant by the tempting will-o’-the-wisp fate has sent to dance +before me, mockingly.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +BLANCHE DORMER’S SURPRISE. + + +The peace and purity of the night indisposed Lois to talk, and Blanche +was meditating on how far the proprieties might admit of her sounding +her new friend on the subject of the supposed estrangement. So neither +spoke for several minutes. + +“A night like this always reminds me of the moonlight-scene in the +‘Merchant of Venice,’” Blanche said, at length. “I was afraid the storm +would last until morning; perhaps I was also afraid mama would scold +terribly. But I think when she is really alarmed, she is too much upset +to be able to scold in proper style. I like these summer storms; the +weird lightning has such a mystic beauty of its own. I lost my head +this afternoon, but that was because we were in such a dangerous place, +and a little because I was frightened on your account, as you seemed so +terrified.” + +“I am nervous in a storm, always,” Lois said deprecatingly, for she +felt ashamed of her weakness. + +“I think it was a special mercy your friend, Captain Desfrayne, came to +our rescue. No doubt you were amazed when you saw him. But I suppose +you knew he was coming down to this neighborhood?” + +“I know nothing of his movements or plans,” Lois replied calmly. “I +never heard his name until last Friday.” + +Miss Dormer absolutely sprang back, and stared at her new friend in +speechless surprise. Her theory had been upset so precipitately that +she was at a loss for words. + +“I--I thought--I fancied--that is----” she stammered, for she felt +fairly confounded, and much as if she had walked into a trap. + +She heartily wished she could entirely control her amazement and +vexation at the absurdity of her mistake, but her looks and manner +betrayed her. + +“What do you think?” innocently inquired Lois. + +“Why--that is----” + +“You hesitate, Blanche?” + +“I am afraid you will be offended.” + +“With you? Impossible. Pray be frank with me.” + +“You promised not to be vexed?” + +“I could not be vexed with you, my dear friend. What did you think?” + +“Honestly, I thought you and Captain Desfrayne had had a lovers’ +quarrel,” Blanche said. + +Lois broke into a peal of silvery laughter, caused partly by surprise, +partly by pique and anger--not toward Blanche, but toward the unhappy +captain. She threw back her head with a little scornful gesture. + +“You thought so? What could have led you to imagine such a strange +thing?” + +“Because--I don’t know how I came to be so foolish, but--well, I saw +him look at you----” + +“At me?” + +“Aye, and you at him--come, you as good as promised not to be +cross--look and speak as if--as if--that is to say--well, in truth, +I can hardly say what caused me to jump to my odd conclusion, but I +did make the silly spring, and I find myself landed on exceedingly +unpleasant ground.” + +Lois had known Blanche only two days, although she felt a strong +presentiment that the friendship just cemented would endure for +a lifetime. Blanche was the first friend she had ever possessed, +and she was sure she might be trusted, yet prudence caused her to +hesitate before entrusting Miss Dormer with the secret of her strange +relationship with Paul Desfrayne. + +Blanche was fairly puzzled, and her feminine curiosity aroused. Quite +confident that Lois had spoken truly in saying that Captain Desfrayne +was almost a stranger to her, she yet could not help believing that +there was some good reason for her thinking that some more than +ordinary feeling caused a mutual interest or dislike. + +Lois placed her arm caressingly round Blanche’s waist, and laid her +cheek on her shoulder. + +“Blanche,” she said, “I am going to tell you something about myself and +Captain Desfrayne, which will, I have no doubt, surprise you.” + +Miss Dormer shrank a little, as if she had been guilty of trying to +surprise a confidence she was not entitled to. + +“I hope,” she said, “you do not think me inquisitive. I am sorry I +allowed myself to make any remarks.” + +Lois smiled. + +“You must let me enjoy the privileges of a friend,” she replied. “If +you will let me tell you, I think it would be a solace to me. For +although Lady Quaintree is so good and so kind, yet----” + +She paused; for it would be impossible to enter into any of the +feelings which barred a perfect confidence between herself and her late +mistress. But Miss Dormer partially comprehended, and pressed her hands +warmly in token of sympathy and encouragement. + +“No doubt you will wonder, knowing that my acquaintanceship with him +is of so recent a date--no doubt you will marvel to hear that I am +half-engaged to marry Captain Desfrayne,” began Lois. + +“My dear!” was all Blanche could say, opening her eyes as wide as they +could expand. + +“Yes. I can scarcely believe the story is real.” + +Lois repeated to her the history of Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will. Blanche +listened in silent amazement. + +“How extraordinary! Then, why--why----” + +“Pray be as frank with me as I have been with you,” Lois entreated. + +“Why does he behave in such an odd way toward you? Does the +proposition, or whatever you may call it, displease him?” + +“I have had no explanation from him, nor is one likely to take place. I +am as ignorant as you are of his opinion on the matter.” + +“What is your own?” + +“I may truly say I feel mortified and vexed by being disposed of like a +bale of goods----” + +“Not exactly, dearest girl. You are left an option.” + +“I do not like Captain Desfrayne.” + +“That can scarcely be wondered at, since he treats you so +coldly--almost rudely. What a strange old man this Vere Gardiner must +have been! Why should he take such a singular whim into his head?” + +“I do not know. You now know as much--or as little--as I do myself.” + +“It is a riddle,” said Blanche. “What does Lady Quaintree say?” + +“She is very much pleased about the money and landed property--as +pleased and interested as if I were her own child; but she has not said +much about the proposition of marriage.” + +“I suppose she wishes to see more of this gentleman. This afternoon, +when I first saw Captain Desfrayne, I liked him: he seemed nice, and +had such a gentle way with him, and his voice was pleasant. But now I +have taken a prejudice against him.” + +At this moment, Blanche caught sight of her father, Squire Dormer, who +had just entered the drawing-room, where the elder ladies sat. + +“Wait for me one moment here, dear Miss Turquand,” she said. “I will +run and ask papa if I must return to-night. Oh! I do hope he will let +me stay till to-morrow with you. Do you leave in the morning?” + +“Lady Quaintree arranges everything,” answered Lois. “It will be just +as she orders.” + +Blanche went back to the drawing-room. Lois remained on the terrace, +idly watching the weird shadows and sharp, silvery lights. + +A step on the lower terrace for a moment alarmed her. But a glance +assured her that Captain Desfrayne was the intruder on the quiet of +that place. He was near enough to be able to address her without +raising his voice. + +Not one word of the dialogue just interrupted had reached his ears. + +“Are you not afraid of taking cold, Miss Turquand?” he asked, really +for want of something better to say. + +“Thanks, no. It is such a lovely summer’s night. I am going back to the +drawing-room in one moment,” replied Lois. + +With a quick movement, Paul Desfrayne ascended the steps leading from +the lower to the upper terrace, and in an instant was by her side. + +“Miss Turquand----” he began, then his courage and the power of +expressing his scarcely formed ideas utterly failed him. + +Lois’ heart throbbed painfully for a moment or two. She looked at +Captain Desfrayne, then averted her eyes without saying a word. + +“I wished--I may not see you again for a long time, and I thought it +would be better to explain myself certain circumstances which it is of +paramount importance you should know than to trust others to do so, or +to endeavor to commit them to writing.” + +“Circumstances?” repeated Lois. “Of what kind?” + +“Circumstances connected entirely with my own history; but as--must I +say unhappily?--one who might be deemed the benefactor of us both--that +one has chosen to link our fate--your destiny and mine--together, to a +certain extent, it is your right to learn what otherwise----” + +Paul felt conscious that every little speech he had attempted had +proved a wretched failure. He feared that the task he had undertaken +would prove beyond his strength or skill. What form of words should he +use? How possibly bring the subject of his marriage forward? It was +difficult enough in one way to break the seal of secrecy on the fatal +topic to his mother; with this girl of eighteen it would be a thousand +times more so. + +“Miss Turquand,” he began, once again making another effort, “one chief +reason why I have not before informed you of these circumstances has +been that I really have not had the opportunity. The news that--in +fact, that is to say, the knowledge that I was to--in a word, the +contents of Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will came upon me like a thunderclap. I +did not even know your name until last Friday, when I had the pleasure +of seeing you for the first time. Why Mr. Vere Gardiner should have +seen fit to make such a singular arrangement, I cannot conceive. I +met him but once, so far as I am aware. He knew nothing of my private +affairs. No doubt he meant well. It would, perhaps, be ungrateful on my +part to find fault with his good intentions; but it is to be regretted +that he could not fix on some more worthy object of his bounty than +myself, or, at least, that he attached conditions to his munificent +gifts which it is absolutely impossible I can fulfil.” + +Lois’ eyes were kindling with the varying sensations that rose in her +heart as she listened. With the swiftness of an already overexcited +brain, her imagination ran rapidly through every conceivable range of +impediments, except the one that really existed. + +She looked so lovely, so graceful, so ethereal in the cross-light, +that, as Paul Desfrayne looked down upon her fair, English face and +beautiful figure, he felt a strange yearning desire to take her for +a moment in his arms, and press one kiss upon the half-open rose-bud +lips. More than ever he cursed the mad folly that had made him link +those heavy chains upon his life that might never be loosened this side +the grave. + +What was he about to tell her? Lois rested her hand on the stone ledge +of the balustrade; for she felt unnerved and agitated. + +Paul Desfrayne was silent for some moments. Lois had only spoken once +since he had joined her. + +Blanche, having ascertained to her great satisfaction that she would be +allowed to stay all night, and partly settled a newly started scheme +for a tour of some weeks with the Quaintrees, was about to rush back +to Lois’ side. But her quick glance had discovered how her friend +was employed, and she drew back before she had made three steps. She +discreetly returned into the drawing-room, and sat down at the piano. + +Lady Quaintree began to wonder greatly why Captain Desfrayne had +not come to ask for a cup of coffee, and she now missed her young +companion. It did not suit her plan of operations to let them have an +opportunity of entering into any mutual explanations of which she might +not be immediately cognizant. Therefore, observing that Blanche was +alone, she asked: + +“Where is Lois, my dear?” + +“I left her on the terrace, ma’am,” answered Blanche, turning round on +her music-stool. + +“Alone, Blanche?” + +“Yes--no. I did leave her alone; but I think she is talking to Captain +Desfrayne now.” + +“Oh, indeed! They are very foolish. I am sure they will take cold,” +said my lady, with an air of careless semi-interest. + +Blanche turned again to her board of black and white ivory keys, and +began running brilliant roulades. Mrs. Dormer asked her husband some +questions about the state of the roads after the deluge of rain that +had fallen, and in a few minutes Lady Quaintree found that she had an +excellent opportunity of rising almost unobserved, and moving across to +the windows, which all opened directly upon the terrace. + +She moved gently, with a soft, silken rustle, from one window to +another, until she arrived at one where she could command a perfect +view of the two figures standing in the moonlight. + +It thus happened that, as Paul Desfrayne spoke those words declaring +his inability to carry out any share in the dead man’s wishes, Lady +Quaintree was in the act of drawing open the window against which he +had accidentally placed himself. + +Her ladyship would have disdained to play the part of eavesdropper, +for she was a woman of high principle, although she deemed herself +justified in thus interrupting what might be a critical explanation. +She, therefore, heard nothing of what the young officer had been saying. + +Lois could not conceive why there should be such a tender sorrow in +Captain Desfrayne’s eyes, such a pathetic ring in his voice, such an +echo of grief and despair in his words. With an eager unrest, she +waited for the next words, which should explain the reason of the young +man’s inability to profit by the clauses in the old man’s will. But, +instead of the tender tones of his voice, the suave, well-bred accents +of Lady Quaintree sounded in her ears. With a great start, she turned +and faced her ladyship; Paul Desfrayne did the same. + +“My dearest pet, you really ought not to linger here in the night air,” +said my lady. “I fancy Mrs. Dormer has been wondering where you have +vanished to. Really, however, I am not surprised, the beauty of the +night has tempted you to breathe its freshness and fragrance; it is so +close and sultry within. Give me your arm, my love; I will take just +one turn, and then we will go in and let Captain Desfrayne and Mrs. +Dormer have a little music.” + +“Allow me, madam,” said the young man, offering his arm. + +Lady Quaintree passed her hand lightly through the proffered support, +and, thus escorted, promenaded to and fro for about five minutes; Lois, +on her left, attending her. Her ladyship was in charming spirits, and +to any less preoccupied companions would have been most amusing. + +The lively nothings she rattled off fell on dull and indifferent ears, +however, and she could extract little beyond abstracted monosyllables +from Captain Desfrayne, and an occasional languid smile or a +half-absent “yes” or “no” from Miss Turquand. + +“Would it be of any use offering you shelter for the night, Captain +Desfrayne?” she asked, with a winning smile. “My dear young friend +has appointed me viceroy over her house for the present. We shall be +delighted to show you as much hospitality as our means will admit.” + +“You are very kind, and I am already indebted to you for the goodness +and consideration which you have this day shown me,” answered Paul +Desfrayne. “But I really must return to my quarters to-night.” + +“It will be a long and lonely ride,” objected Lady Quaintree. “Can we +order one of the carriages for your service?” + +“No, thanks. I should greatly prefer riding.” + +“Do you need a groom, or a guide of any kind?” + +“I knew this neighborhood perfectly well when a boy, and have not +forgotten one lane or valley or hedgerow, I believe.” + +Presently Lady Quaintree turned to go in, saying they must not neglect +their other guests. + +She passed in first, Paul Desfrayne lingered for a moment, and +involuntarily fixed his eyes upon Lois. They were full of an unspoken +eloquence, and revealed volumes of despair, of regret, of deep and mute +feelings which rose like some troubled revelation. + +Lois could not but read this glance, which perplexed her more than his +few bitter words of absolute renunciation had done. + +The young man knew that this chance for an explanation was gone. When +might the next occur? He scarcely knew whether to feel relieved by the +postponement of a painful duty, or vexed by the fact that he was worse +placed than if he had remained absolutely silent. + +“I can write to her to-morrow,” he thought, though he doubted if he +could nerve himself to the task. + +“What can he have wished to tell me?” Lois asked herself vainly; +for although she racked her brain for an answer, none sufficiently +plausible presented itself. + +They were not alone for a single moment during the remaining hour that +Paul Desfrayne lingered. The Dormers went past the barracks on their +way home, but he declined a seat in their carriage, as he preferred to +ride, he said. + +He left the house with them, however, riding a short way by their +carriage, and then, putting spurs to his horse, dashed at almost a +reckless pace toward his quarters. + +It might almost be imagined that a kind of second sight, some sort +of spiritual influence, was drawing him to the place where Gilardoni +awaited him. + +As he took leave of Miss Turquand, he held her hand for some brief +moments, and again looked into the clear depths of her eyes. + +A deep sigh escaped him as he released the hand he had +half-unconsciously retained. Lois heard the sigh, and it was echoed in +her heart. + +Alas! What was the fatal impediment? Not dislike for herself--she felt +sure of that. Her pique and resentment were rapidly melting away under +the dangerous fire of love and pity. + +He left her a prey to unrest, impatience, wonderment, the only solace +being that she felt confident he would take the earliest opportunity of +giving her the explanation thus vexatiously interrupted. She surmised +that a letter might possibly reach her some time the next day, or +perhaps he might call. It would be so natural for him to come, with +the object of ascertaining how she and Miss Dormer were after their +fright. + +Somehow, she did not care to inform Lady Quaintree of what he had said, +nor did her ladyship make the slightest approach to an inquiry. But +when Lady Quaintree proposed to quit Flore Hall early the following +day, she eagerly desired to stay, alleging truly that she was anything +but well, as her fainting-fit and the alarm she had suffered had +unhinged her nerves. + +“Just as you please, my love. I will not dictate to you in your own +house, and certainly you and dear Blanche do look very pale, so perhaps +a day’s rest will be desirable. But really I shall not be able to +remain for more than one day longer. I have so many engagements----” + +And she affected to consult a dainty blue-and-gold note-book, which +assuredly did contain a sufficiently full program for the week, but +which would not have bound her if she had not found it convenient. + +With Blanche, Lois was more open. Miss Dormer came for a little while +into her room, which the girls would gladly have shared, and listened +with absorbed interest to the brief account of the mysterious words +spoken on the terrace. + +When Lois paused, Blanche reflected seriously. + +“You have not consulted Lady Quaintree yet, since he said these +singular things?” she asked. + +“No,” replied Lois, in a low, constrained voice. + +“Is it too late to speak to her now?” + +Lois shrank back. + +“I know it would be best,” she said; “and yet--and yet I do not +like to speak to her until I have something more definite to say. +She has always been kind and good to me; but you must remember that +she has been my mistress, far above me in every respect; and I can +scarcely----I know I am wrong, ungrateful, and yet----” + +Blanche smiled, and shrugged her pretty shoulders almost imperceptibly. + +“I understand,” she said, very softly. “I suppose Captain Desfrayne +will explain himself to her. I wonder much he has not tried to do so +to-night. He might easily have found, or made, an opportunity. You +have told me exactly what he said?” + +“Word for word. It seems imprinted on my memory, and every sentence +seems still sounding in my ears. I suppose I was so startled that it +made a particular impression on me.” + +“Shall I tell you what my opinion is? Probably within a few +days--perhaps to-morrow--you will learn the truth. But may I hazard a +guess?” + +“Pray tell me what you think, my dear friend.” + +Blanche fixed her eyes on the pale face of Lois. + +“It is my belief,” she said, very slowly, speaking as if +deliberately--“it is my firm conviction that he is secretly married.” + +Lois shrank back once more. Such an idea had not occurred to her; but +she could not refuse to see the probability of the suggestion. She was +unable to speak. Somehow, ice seemed to fall upon her heart. + +“Secretly married!” she at length echoed faintly. “Why should he be +ashamed or afraid to acknowledge such a thing?” + +“That remains to be seen,” replied Miss Dormer. “But I believe such +to be the fact. I have read and heard of many cases where gentlemen, +handsome and proud as Captain Desfrayne, have married persons whom they +had every reason to be ashamed of. But he may not be ashamed of his +marriage, my dear. There are many reasons why people conceal that they +are married.” + +Long after Blanche quitted her, Lois remained gazing from her open +window, painfully meditating. He was perhaps, then, already married? + +Tired, agitated, weak from fright and from the strain on her nervous +system, the young girl rested her head upon her hands, and a few tears +trickled over her fingers. She started up. + +“What folly!” she muttered. “Why do I dwell so much on the words he +spoke to-night? What does it signify? I do not care for him. He is +a stranger to me, and likely to remain such. When I have been duly +informed of the reasons why he is unable to assist me in doubling my +fortune by marrying me, there will be an end of the matter. I am +almost sorry now I did not agree to Lady Quaintree’s suggestion, and +return to London to-morrow. Probably he will send a letter to her +ladyship by his servant some time to-morrow afternoon. I do not wish to +marry him. I will never marry any one I do not love, and I have never +yet seen any one I could really care for. I will go to bed, and get to +sleep, as I ought to have done about two hours ago.” + +She did go to bed; but the effort to sleep was quite an abortive one. +Feverishly she turned from side to side, unable to rid herself of the +memory of those eloquent glances, those deeply regretful broken words, +those pathetic tones. + +Until at last she arrived at the conclusion that she would willingly +have forfeited her newly acquired fortune never to have heard of or +seen Paul Desfrayne. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE BREAK OF DAWN. + + +It was with difficulty Gilardoni could curb his impatient desire for +his master’s return. Could he by any possibility have imagined in which +direction to seek for him, he would have started off in quest before +the storm was well exhausted. But he was absolutely a stranger in this +part of the world, and for aught he could tell, his master might be the +same. + +He was perforce obliged to remain in Captain Desfrayne’s rooms in +absolute inaction, listening with keenly strained watchfulness to every +sound, every footfall of man or beast. + +Unfortunately, the rooms did not overlook the yard through which the +young officer must enter the barracks, so Gilardoni did not enjoy the +half-irritating consolation of watching the gate by which he would come. + +It was very late before there was the slightest sign of Captain +Desfrayne’s coming. + +In fact, Gilardoni at length, somehow, lost count, and was only +recalled to his eager watch by a gentle touch upon his shoulder. He +sprang to his feet, unaware that he had fallen asleep. + +Captain Desfrayne had come into the room quietly. At first he had +thought of letting the poor tired fellow have his sleep to the end in +peace; but, finding he needed his services, he had aroused him. + +“No matter, my good Gilardoni,” he said, with that pleasant, winning, +yet sad, smile that had become habitual to him. “I have no doubt you +are tired waiting for me. I am dog-tired myself. This afternoon, I was +caught in the storm, and had the good luck”--there was an imperceptible +shade of irony in his tone--“to find shelter in a friend’s house, so +was delayed. Will you----” + +The words died on his lips. Gilardoni had placed the tiny packet in the +silver tissue-paper on the table, just within the rays of the lamp, +and Paul Desfrayne’s glance happened to light on it as he spoke. + +With a hasty movement, he put out his hand to take it up, but the +Italian was more swift, and with the rapidity of lightning covered the +packet with the palm of his hand, but without removing it from the +table. + +The two young men looked into each other’s face for some moments. Not +a sound was heard beyond the monotonous tick-tick of the clock on the +chimneypiece. + +“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Captain Desfrayne. + +He recollected the night when he engaged this man as his servant--it +seemed months ago--when he had seen him clench his fist at the pictured +resemblance to Lucia Guiscardini. + +Gilardoni took up the tiny gold cross in its filmy covering, and kept +it in his hand. + +“Sir,” he said, “this morning you dropped this--as I supposed. I picked +it up----” + +“Both self-evident facts. As it happens to belong to _me_, and you +acknowledge my proprietorship, why do you not restore it to me?” said +Captain Desfrayne. “Do you know what it is?” + +Gilardoni laughed bitterly. + +“I naturally opened the packet, in order to ascertain what the contents +might be,” he responded, “for I was not certain until now that it had +really been dropped by you, sir. It is----” + +“What is it? A gold cross, a pendant for a watch-chain.” + +“More than that.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Sir, may I ask you a question?” + +“A thousand, if you will let me have my own property, and be brief +enough to let me get to bed within half an hour, for I sorely need +rest.” + +“Sir--my good master, to whom I owe so much kindness and charity--I am +not going to ask this question out of impertinent curiosity, but--but +from a sufficiently reasonable and strong motive.” + +“Come, let us have the question without further preamble.” + +“I will ask you two questions. Did you buy this cross, or was it given +to you?” + +Captain Desfrayne hesitated before replying, as a man in the +witness-box might do for fear of criminating himself. + +“It was given to me,” he at length replied. + +“By a woman?” + +Captain Desfrayne looked keenly at his questioner. The idea that he was +a former lover of the beautiful Italian prima donna’s, again occurred +to him. + +“If it will afford you any gratification to know, I do not object to +admitting that it was given to me by a woman,” he said. + +“By an Italian?” + +“By an Italian? Yes.” + +“It was a love-gift?” + +An exclamation of anger escaped Gilardoni’s master, and he impatiently +stretched out his hand. + +“Enough of this nonsense!” he exclaimed, with displeasure. “Give me +that packet, and get you to bed. Your wits are addled by the nap you +were betrayed into.” + +Gilardoni moved a step nearer to Captain Desfrayne, and, gripping him +tightly by the wrist, looked with intent, searching earnestness into +his face, as if he would read his soul. There was nothing sinister or +menacing in his attitude, gestures, or expression. He had simply the +appearance of a man carried away by some self-absorbing desire to learn +a fact of paramount interest to himself. + +“This cross,” he said, “was given to you by Lucia Guiscardini.” + +“I do not understand why the fact should interest you,” answered +Paul Desfrayne. “It certainly did come from her hand. What was Lucia +Guiscardini to you, or you to Lucia Guiscardini, that the sight of her +gifts to another should cause you so much emotion?” + +“Did she tell you where she had obtained this toy?” asked Gilardoni. + +“I did not think of inquiring. She linked it on my watch-chain one +day, and there was an end of the affair.” + +“I knew this as well as if I had been present,” muttered the Italian. +“Oh! false, wicked, traitorous serpent!” + +These latter words he spoke so rapidly in his native language that his +master did not catch their import. + +“If you knew, why the deuce have you put yourself to the trouble of +asking so many questions? I should be glad to know what you mean by +cross-examining me in this ridiculous manner. You apparently consider +you have no very good reason to like this same Lucia Guiscardini. Has +she done you any harm?” + +“She has ruined my happiness--blighted my life--that is all. No, I have +no great reason to remember her with feelings of good-will.” + +“As you have asked me some questions, I may be allowed the privilege of +retaliating. May I ask if she jilted you?” + +“No. Oh! no. Would to Heaven she had done so, and saved me these years +of bitter hate and regret!” + +“Is she your sister?” demanded Paul Desfrayne, startled by the +overthrow of the supposition he had so readily built up. + +“No. She is the only woman I have ever loved, or can ever love again.” + +“Do you still love her, or do you hate her for being so far beyond you?” + +Gilardoni regarded his master with a strange, inexplicable look, and +then broke into a low, savagely bitter laugh. + +“May I ask, sir,” he said, “if she jilted _you_? She was quite capable +of playing the coquette to amuse herself, and then laughing in your +face, for her soul was really steeped in ambitious desires.” + +“I believe, my good fellow, ambition was her besetting sin--is still, +if what folks say be true. No, she did not jilt me. But you have not +answered my question. Be frank with me. Tell me why you hate this +woman. Why do you hate her--and yet, why do you feel anger at finding +her gifts in the possession of another?” + +“This cross,” said Gilardoni, tearing it from its wrapper, and holding +it out at arm’s length, with a strange, vindictive smile, “was my gift +to her--given the day I told her I loved her, and asked her----” + +“What?” + +“She pretended she returned my love. Bah! Her heart was as cold as +ice. She cares for no one but herself. She was born a peasant girl, +yet never was princess of blood royal more proud, more insolent, more +resolved to stand above the common herd. I adored her. I was like one +bereft of his senses when she was near me. She had but to will, and I +obeyed like the basest slave. Bah! I made an idol and tricked it out +with all the graces of my love-smitten imagination, and fell down and +worshiped it. I believed that she was exactly what my weak, foolish +heart pictured her to be. I would have raised her from her ignoble +station, but not to the height she desired to climb. To be a Russian +princess, or the lady of some great English milord, was her dream.” + +“I know it,” said Paul Desfrayne, very quietly, yet he felt that some +great revelation was at hand. That the revelation was to be to his +advantage he did not hope. + +“But not at the time when I linked about her neck the chain that held +this poor little gewgaw,” cried Gilardoni excitedly. “No, no. At that +time she was barely conscious of her power to charm--just waking to +the consciousness of her dangerous charm of beauty. I was her first +victim, her first triumph. She was a girl of sixteen then; I was about +six or seven years her senior. We had been neighbors and friends +from childhood. I taught her such songs and snatches of music as I +occasionally picked up, and she loved to warble the chants and psalms +she heard at chapel. She had not discovered that she had a fortune +in her throat. If she had not found out _that_, we might have been a +happy, contented couple at this day.” + +Paul Desfrayne looked at the excited face of Gilardoni in a strange, +contemplative silence for a moment or two, as the Italian paused. The +dark, foreign face was lividly pale from passion; the dark, gleaming +eyes were burning with inward fire. + +“I thought you assured me just this moment,” observed the young +officer, “that Lucia Guiscardini had not jilted you. If you loved her, +and she declared she reciprocated your affection, why, it is to be +imagined that the course of true love must have run tolerably smooth. +A little hypocrisy, I believe, is supposed to be pardonable with the +feminine part of our common humanity. If she said she loved you, her +affection was next best to reality.” + +“She declared she loved me. I believed her,” said Gilardoni fiercely. +“I believed her because--I supposed because I wished it to be true. I +fancied no man was ever so happy as I. For a while I walked no longer +on earth, but on roseate clouds of happiness. I despise myself when +I look back on that time. Perhaps I am not the first who has been +betrayed into folly by the arts and wiles of a beautiful, treacherous +girl,” the Italian added, shrugging his shoulders. + +“You have not yet given me the slightest idea of the reason why +you so cordially dislike Madam Guiscardini, if that be her correct +designation,” said Captain Desfrayne. “You indulge in the most vehement +invectives against her, yet state no specific charge. You say you made +a fool of yourself about her, and that she laughed in her sleeve at +your declarations of affection. Certainly, very shabby on her part, +but, then, it is a thing beautiful, vain, silly women do every day. Why +should you cherish such rancor against her? I suppose she found she +could make a better market of her beauty and wonderful talents than by +disposing of them to a man who could never hope to raise her beyond the +level of, say, a wealthy farmer’s wife. Do not be too severe upon her.” + +“If she had laughed at me, and left me,” cried Gilardoni, throwing out +his hands with impetuosity, “I could have forgiven her; I might have +forgotten her. It could not have been that I could ever have loved +again; but what of that? I do not believe in love _now_. But no. She +left the poison of her treacherous touch upon my life. I could kill +her, if she were within my reach.” + +“Such hate must be justified by very serious provocation,” said Paul +Desfrayne. “May I ask how your love was turned to such bitter gall, +since your suit prospered in the first instance?” + +“By deeds of the blackest treachery.” + +“In a word, may I ask--since we are playing at the game of question +and answer--may I once more ask, why do you hate the beautiful Lucia +Guiscardini? She did not jilt you, you say--then what relationship does +she hold toward you?” + +Gilardoni turned his great dark eyes upon his master, as if in +surprise, forgetting at the moment that he had not told him of the +completing point of his story. Then he said, with a vindictive +bitterness terrible to hear, because it revealed the smoldering fire +beneath: + +“She is my wife!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +LEONARDO GILARDONI’S STORY. + + +Had the earth yawned suddenly open at his feet, Paul Desfrayne could +not have expressed more utter amazement than was depicted in his face +and in his entire attitude on hearing the declaration made by Leonardo +Gilardoni. He stared as if confounded. + +“Your wife!” he repeated, at length. + +“Certainly. My wife,” answered the valet. + +“Then--then----Great heavens, your _wife_! But it is impossible.” + +“Why should it be impossible?” almost angrily demanded the Italian. “Do +you mean it is impossible that the famous star of the lyrical stage +should be the wife of a poor, penniless fellow like myself? It must +seem strange--I don’t deny it. But in her early days she was one of +the poorest and most obscure of peasant girls, and thought Leonardo +Gilardoni, with his little piece of land, and the savings bequeathed by +his father, quite a catch. No thought of English milords and Russian +princes then.” + +Captain Desfrayne took a hasty turn or two, then again faced his +servant. + +“You amaze me,” he said. “Then how did it happen, since you loved her, +as you say, that you came to be separated from her, and how has it come +about that you appear to be utter strangers, you two? How is it that +she contemplates--if report speak true--marriage with a Russian prince, +if she is already married, the wife of Leonardo Gilardoni?” + +But as he spoke, Paul Desfrayne was thinking, with a half-dazed brain, +that if Lucia Guiscardini should prove to be the wife of this Italian +servant, her marriage with himself must have been perfectly illegal. + +If she were the wife of another, why, he must be free. But it could not +be. He had yet to hear some explanation which would inevitably shut out +from view the bright vision of happy freedom conjured up for a moment +by the wild words of Gilardoni. + +No; it was beyond hope that this poisonous sting could ever be taken +from out his blighted life. + +The lovely, pure face of Lois Turquand, as he had seen it on the +terrace in the dim, dreamy light, rose before him, as if to reproach +him for a wrong unconsciously wrought against her by his fatal marriage. + +It was evident Gilardoni knew nothing whatever of _la_ Lucia’s marriage +with Paul Desfrayne. + +The Italian was watching his master’s countenance as if anxious to +discover the current of his thoughts. There was a momentary pause. Then +Gilardoni said, less excitedly: + +“Why does she think of bettering her condition by a splendid marriage +with a great noble when she is the wife of a poor serving-man like +myself? Simply because she has destroyed the evidence of her unlucky +first marriage.” + +In spite of his better sense, a sharp spasm of disappointment seized +the heart of Paul Desfrayne. He was, perhaps, worse placed than before. +Until now, he had given Lucia Guiscardini credit for being what +she really represented herself to be, and had imagined that balked +ambition rather than absolute wickedness had led to her vile deception +and iniquitous treachery toward himself. She had seemed a wild, +undisciplined creature, ignorant of the world and its ways, cold and +reserved except on a few occasions when she had permitted him to snatch +feverish kisses from her lips, and press her in his arms. But now, if +Gilardoni’s accusations were true, she was a crafty, evil, unscrupulous +woman, who had crushed an innocent man with the hope to step up into +wealth and power. + +She was the wife of this servant, yet at any moment, did she so will, +she could claim to stand by the side of Captain Paul Desfrayne, whose +legal wife she was, until proof of a prior marriage could be obtained. +Wife of Paul Desfrayne, so proud of his untarnished family name and +descent, so adoringly fond of his mother, whose besetting sin was +family pride and love of the world’s homage. + +“Destroyed the evidence of her first marriage!” Paul Desfrayne slowly +repeated. “I cannot understand you.” + +“Sir, I will tell you the pitiful history. ’Tis not very long. As +children, Lucia and I were playmates. She was an imperious, overbearing +tyrant; but her beauty, her wiles, her artless ways, as they appeared +to be, gained for her complete dominion over my every thought and +action. I was some six or seven years her senior, and useful to +her--her slave, her jackall. + +“She was an orphan, and lived with an old woman, some distant kind of +relation. I lost my parents when about eighteen or so, and was left my +own master. When Lucia was some ten or eleven years old, I resolved +that she, and none other, should be my wife at some future day. I told +her so many, many times, and she generally agreed, laughingly. When she +was sixteen, I found that I passionately loved her. Our future marriage +had been a kind of jest until then; but at last I discovered--or +fancied such to be the case--I took it into my head that I must obtain +her love, and make her my wife, or else my heart must break. + +“I can scarcely conceive the wild state of my feelings _now_ when I +look back. I made a serious declaration of my love the day I gave +her this cross; I urged her to give me her promise, telling her how +madly I adored her, how rich I hoped to be some day by working hard, +and getting and saving money. She knew exactly how much I was worth. +She knew she would have her own way in everything--she knew how every +thought in my brain, every pulsation of my heart, was given to her. + +“I was the best-circumstanced of those she had to choose from, and I +think--I believe--some beam of liking for me flickered in her cold +breast; but I don’t know. She decided to give me her promise.” + +“Which she ratified?” said Paul Desfrayne, as Gilardoni paused. + +“Yes. We were married within a few weeks at the nearest chapel. Some +time before our marriage, Lucia’s brother who had been brought up in +France by his mother’s uncle, and reared as a priest, had come to take +charge of our spiritual affairs. We were married by him. I believed +there had never been a happier man than myself when I led the cruel, +treacherous girl away from the little altar.” + +“Go on, I beg of you.” + +“For some months all went well. Lucia commanded, and I obeyed. There +was but one will in the house--hers; nothing clashed with it, and so +nothing clouded our happiness. She was very well satisfied; she had +fine clothes, a pretty house, an adoring husband, and triumphed when +she knew she was envied by some of her girl friends. Then, one day, a +famous singer came along. He was staying in the village--it was his +native place, and he roamed about all day. One morning, he was walking +near our cottage: he heard Lucia singing in the little rose-garden. I +was away at a neighboring town. He spoke to her--inflamed her ambition +by telling her she had a fortune in her throat. She did not tell him +she was married, or let him see the ring on her finger, and he told her +she might marry an emperor some day if she pleased.” + +“Did she run away with him?” asked Captain Desfrayne. + +“She told him she would give him an answer in a week, after she had +consulted with her friends, for he asked if she would go to Florence +with him. When I returned, she was like one crazy, her eyes all +a-glitter with joy and astonished delight. I instantly told her I +would never hear of her becoming a singer, and going on the stage. She +tried coaxing, storming, threatening, entreaties, crying, sullenness, +all to no purpose. I was inflexible. During the whole of the week the +same scenes occurred every day, from morning until night--nay, for +the twenty-four hours. The eve of the day when the signor was to come +for his answer found her as resolute as at first to follow the course +pointed out to her by his selfish hand--found me as doggedly determined +to keep her from destroying her own peace and mine.” + +“You did not think you were flinging away a fortune?” said Paul +Desfrayne. + +“All I thought of was that they asked me to scatter my happiness to the +winds,” replied Gilardoni. “What did we want with fortune when we had +enough for our needs? The signor came. He must have learned that this +young girl was married, but he made no sign. She was on the watch for +him, and ran to meet him before he reached the door.” + +“Why did you not hinder them from speaking?” + +“Pooh! Unless I could have locked her up in a cell, it would have been +utterly impossible to prevent her from communicating with him. She did +not call me, but let him depart. Then she came in and told me that he +had renewed his golden promises, that she had informed him her friends +objected to her becoming a stage singer, but that she hoped to gain +consent, and had requested him to return in three or four days. He was +resolved not to lose sight of her, and waited patiently. She tried +again to shake my determination, but in vain. + +“I then thought of applying to her brother, the priest, for help in +combatting her fatal desires and intentions, but he had consented to +go to America as a missionary, and was at that time away making some +final arrangements--partly settling who should succeed him in his +humble cure. In a fortnight more he was to begin his journey. Lucia +nearly drove me frantic; but a day or two before that fixed for the +final decision, she suddenly became strangely calm and quiet, with the +horrible tranquillity of a wild beast which crouches to take its spring +upon a victim.” + +All these explanations were necessary to render poor Gilardoni’s story +intelligible; but the suspense until he should arrive at the conclusive +point in his recital was almost sickening to his hearer, for whom the +facts possessed an absorbing interest, undreamed of by the narrator. + +Captain Desfrayne did not utter a word when Gilardoni paused for a +moment. + +“Lucia had made up her mind,” the valet continued, “to close with the +alluring offers of the stranger. How do you think she contrived to get +rid of the impediments caused by my stern obstinacy, as she considered +the opposition I raised?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“She made one or two faint efforts to move me that last day; then she +drugged some wine I was to drink in the evening. Having secured a fair +start, she went off with the crabbed old man who had thus torn her from +the home she had made so happy for a few short months.” + +“Did she leave any clue to the place she was bound for?” + +“None. A few lines scrawled on a bit of torn paper told me why she had +gone, and with whom. I found this paper the next morning when I roused +myself from my deathlike sleep. The drug left me weak in body and mind; +some days elapsed before I could gain sufficient strength to form any +plan. Then I made some careful inquiries, for I wished to avoid being +talked about and laughed at by the scandal-loving old women of the +village. I found that there was a probability of finding my wife and +her new music-master at Turin.” + +Paul Desfrayne shuddered. The name of these beautiful Italian cities +always brought back feelings of pain and bitterness to his memory. + +“I traveled day and night,” Gilardoni went on. “Such little property as +I had I sold, realizing a moderate sum of money, for I needed resources +in my pursuit, and knew that the pretty, happy nest could never be +the same to me again. My information, gleaned grain by grain, proved +correct. She was at Turin. Step by step, slowly, laboriously, with the +patience of an Indian, I tracked her out. + +“My ardent love was then undergoing a change, and I felt deep anger +against her for her utter indifference to me, for her rank defiance +of my wishes, of my lawful authority. I discovered her living in an +obscure suburb with an old attendant. Every stratagem I used to obtain +an interview with her failed. I tried to bribe the old servant, or +duenna, or governess, and she first flung my money contemptuously in my +face, and then banged the gates. I wrote, but could not tell whether my +letters reached the cruel hands of my treacherous wife. + +“I watched the doors of her house, but in vain, for I afterward found +that she rarely quitted the house, and then by a small gate at the end +of the large garden, which led into a sheltered lane little frequented. +Her singing-master entered by this gate, and as I was ignorant that +there was any way of obtaining admittance except by the iron gates in +the front of the house, I was baffled in my object of waylaying and +questioning him. By dint of inquiring ceaselessly, I found out where he +lived, and one day I went to his house, and confronted him.” + +“And the result?” + +“I demanded of him my wife--he laughed at me and my reproaches, +entreaties, and threats. At last he menaced me--said that if I again +annoyed him he would hand me over to the authorities as a dangerous +lunatic. He professed to know nothing of the person I asked for. In +spite of my fury, I had the sense to think that perhaps my wife had +given him a name other than her own or mine. I endeavored to reasonably +explain the circumstances of her flight. He sneered at me for an idiot, +or an impostor, and coolly showed me the door. I thank Heaven I did not +slay him in my frenzy and despair.” + +“Then did you ever see the woman--your wife--again?” + +“By accident, I discovered the existence of the little gate at the back +of the house. I was passing down the shaded lane, and noticed the gate +open. The idea of its belonging to the house where my wife was staying +did not occur to me at the moment. I happened to glance through, and +the wild beauty and luxuriance of the large garden attracted my eyes. I +stood for some minutes inhaling the delicious odor of the flowers, when +I heard a step, and the rustle of feminine garments. + +“An instant more, and I saw--I saw my wife, Lucia, pacing slowly along +the path, her skirts trailing over the mingled flowers and weeds of +the flower-borders, her eyes cast down, her arms hanging by her side, +looking weary, and, I fancied, sad. I stood still, spellbound, as if +unable to move a step. For a second my heart melted; the mad love +I cherished rose in all its old intensity. I flattered myself that +perhaps she regretted her precipitation--I induced myself to imagine +that she was to a great extent influenced by the mercenary old dog +who had lured her away. The idea that she might welcome me with a cry +of gladness, and throw herself into my arms with tears of penitence, +unnerved me.” + +“Well?” + +“She drew nearer and nearer, unconscious of my presence, the shrubs +that grew about the door, or gate, serving to conceal me. As she came +close, when I could almost have touched her, she happened to raise her +eyes. She uttered one cry--a cry of fear, or surprise, or both, and +then stood perfectly still, as if turned to stone. I sprang toward her +with one long stride, and caught her by the arm, afraid that even now +she might elude me. + +“I do not remember what either said--it was a repetition of what had +passed before. But I do remember that when I said I would compel her +to obey me, as my wife, and told her she could enter into no contract +without my consent, she stared at me, and broke into contemptuous +laughter--laughter of defiance. She answered that she was no wife +of mine, and acknowledged the authority of no one save her nearest +relative, her brother, the priest. + +“For a moment I really thought her brain was turned. I asked her if she +could deny that her brother had joined our hands in the little chapel +of our native village. She declared I was uttering rank falsehood, or +impertinent folly. I swore I would soon prove our marriage, and bring +witnesses by the dozen. She laughed again, and said I was welcome to +indulge in my own fancies, unless they annoyed her.” + +“You said she had destroyed the evidence of the marriage,” said Captain +Desfrayne, fixing his eyes on Gilardoni, as if to read his very soul. + +“Thunderstruck, confounded, I knew not what to say. I thought it was +a ruse to get me to leave the garden, for perhaps she feared I might +enter the house, and then be difficult to dislodge. So I no longer +thought she had lost her senses, but that she was trying to do by +cunning what she could not hope to effect by force or persuasion. But +in the end she had her own way. It was of no earthly use arguing with +her, or threatening: she was immovable, and answered every sentence I +addressed to her by the same firm iteration of the fact that she was no +wife of mine. + +“She laughed insultingly when I said the law would speedily decide +between us. Perhaps she knew it was an idle threat of mine, for what +could the law do to bring again to my arms the woman I had deluded +myself into imagining loved me? I was unable to guess what she meant by +so boldly denying she had been married to me. In brief, I left her. I +lost no time, but hurried back to obtain proof of my marriage.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A VISION OF FREEDOM. + + +“On my return to our native village, after an absence of some two +months,” continued Gilardoni, “I found that the priest, Lucia’s +brother, had departed. His successor--a stranger--received me very +kindly; but when I revealed to him my painful situation, and asked +his advice, he looked perfectly distressed. When I begged him to let +me have a copy of the register of my marriage, he told me, with much +agitation, that the book had been stolen.” + +“Stolen!--by her?” exclaimed Paul Desfrayne. + +“Without a doubt,” replied Gilardoni. “He had not arrived at the time +it was purloined. I believe that the night Lucia fled from my home she +gained access to the chapel, taking the keys from her brother’s room. +It was not until the eve of his departure that he knew anything of the +loss, for there had not been any occasion to use the book during those +last weeks.” + +“She had taken this daring means to free herself from your authority, +or the legal control you might have exercised over her?” said Paul +Desfrayne. “Had she, think you, destroyed the book?” + +He made the inquiry with a flutter at his heart. + +“I suppose so,” answered Gilardoni. “It is impossible she would have +had the folly to preserve it. The probability--the certainty is, that +she burned it.” + +“What infamy--what wickedness!” cried Paul Desfrayne. + +Gilardoni shrugged his shoulders. + +“Her insatiate ambition, her craving for wealth, station, luxury, +overmastered all other feelings,” he said. + +“Then she was free to defy you and all the world?” + +“Quite so.” + +“What did you do on making this extraordinary discovery?” + +“What could I do? No inquiries could enable me to glean the slightest +clue to the place whither her brother, the priest, had gone. I sought +in every direction my limited resources admitted of for information as +to his whereabouts, but, beyond the fact that he had gone to America, +could learn nothing.” + +“America? What part of America?” + +“I could not ascertain. Some place in South America. Afterward, when +I began to move about more freely, I might perhaps have obtained the +name of his location, but by that time I had lost all desire of even +seeing or hearing of the treacherous woman I had made my wife. I said +to myself, even if I succeeded in proving the legality of my union with +her, of what avail would it be? She would never return to me: even +if she did, she would be like another creature, not the Lucia I had +loved--the pretty, innocent girl I fancied loved me.” + +“Did you see her again?” + +“I made no attempt to do so. I wrote a few lines, bitterly reproaching +her for the crime she had committed--the double crime. Of that brief +letter she took no notice whatever. She continued, I believe, to study +with the Signor Ballarini, until fitted to appear on the stage. I do +not know what agreement she made with him; the only thing I know is +that she came out under her own name, not, thanks be to Providence, +under mine!” + +“And then she attained her desire of becoming a star of the first +magnitude,” said Captain Desfrayne, as Gilardoni paused. “She gained +the wealth, luxury, power, all but the rank she yearned for. Did you +ever see her after that day you came on her by accident in the garden +at Turin?” + +“I have at rare intervals happened to catch a glimpse of her, without +desiring to see her, driving past in her carriage, perhaps,” replied +Gilardoni. “Not even once have I had the curiosity to enter the theater +when she has been singing; the screech of some arch fiend would have +been as pleasing in my ears as her finest notes. Not once have I felt +an inclination to ask a question as to her way of life. + +“People have told me that she is one of the best of women, noted for +her charity and goodness. They little knew that he to whom they spoke +had the first right to be considered in her schemes of benevolence. +I took no care of my little money, already diminished by my searches +after her unworthy self, and after her brother. + +“The consequence was, I soon became reduced almost to the verge +of want. The good priest who had succeeded the Padre Josef, my +brother-in-law, obtained for me a situation as servant to a +nobleman--the Count Di Venosta--with whom I was when I first saw you, +sir. My life flowed in a dull current until his death; after that, +illness, poverty, misery, despair, until these last few days, when I +had the good fortune to meet with you, and you had compassion on my +friendless state.” + +Captain Desfrayne considered for some moments. Should he reveal his +painful secret to this man who had been so frank with him? He could +not resolve to do so: the humiliation would be too great. Before he +had felt his situation most painful. These revelations rendered it +well-nigh insupportable. + +That Madam Guiscardini should have the daring to plan the theft of the +marriage-register, and the nerve, the cool audacity, to carry her plot +into execution, and then refrain from the destruction of the proof she +desired to keep from all men’s eyes, was incredible. Yet a strange +thought occurred to him. + +“If no proof of her marriage with you exists,” he said to the Italian, +“how do you account for the fact that she evidently fears to accept any +of the brilliant offers they say she has received?” + +“Very easily,” answered Leonardo, with a savage grimace. “Although the +book is, or may be, no longer in existence, her brother may be found +any day, and he could prove her marriage. I do not care to seek him, +and if I did, my poverty restrains me. But she probably knows well that +if she dared to marry any of these infatuated nobles, who are ready to +throw their coronets at her feet, I should stand forth and denounce +her. If I declare her to be my wife, she must disprove my words. I, in +my poverty, can do nothing; but a rich man--such as she would desire to +wed--could seek for the man who could seal my words as truth.” + +A thrill of hope ran through the heart of his hearer. For a moment +the impulse to tell him the bitter facts of his own share in Lucia’s +miserable history almost overmastered Paul Desfrayne’s prudence. But +he resolved to make no sign until he had consulted Frank Amberley, +to whom he looked now as his chief friend and adviser in his present +difficulties. If he could get leave of absence, he meant to go to +London for some hours the next day, in order to see the young lawyer. + +“Perhaps her brother is dead,” he suggested. + +“Perhaps so,” assented the other. “But she would feel secure if such +were the case, and we should soon hear of her as princess, duchess, or +some such exalted personage.” + +“He might die, and make no sign. Missionary priests are sometimes slain +in obscure places, or die of hunger on toilsome journeys, and are never +heard of more,” Captain Desfrayne said. + +He knew full well that it was in reality her luckless marriage with +himself that fixed the bar. + +“Sir,” Leonardo said, “I think I have earned the right to ask how this +cross--my first gift to her--came from her hands into your possession.” + +This was a home-thrust. + +“She fancied I was the rich milord who might one day place a coronet +on her brow,” said Paul Desfrayne, very slowly. “I was one of her most +ardent admirers at Florence.” + +“I understand.” + +“Afterward--some time later--she discovered that I was--that I was +not the wealthy nobleman she had imagined me to be,” half-stammered +Gilardoni’s master. + +“That was enough. I comprehend. That was quite enough for her. But if +she wished to entrap you, she would have dared to consent to marry you.” + +“My good fellow, I wish to get to my room,” said the young officer, who +felt sick at heart, although a faint gleam of hope had come to him. “It +is almost break of dawn.” + +These last words struck him with a singular sense of being familiar, +as if he had uttered them in some previous stage of existence, or had +heard some one speak them at some startling crisis. + +“You must be tired out, sir.” + +Gilardoni pushed the little cross toward his master without making any +remark about it. + +“I don’t want the thing, Gilardoni,” said Paul Desfrayne, with a +half-contemptuous sigh. “It is yours of right, I doubt not. It can have +no value for me. I do not know why I have preserved it.” + +He took up the taper which his valet had lighted, and went into his +bedroom, saying he had no need of further service from Gilardoni. + +Then he closed and locked the door, and sat down on the edge of his +bed, to consider his position. + +A thousand distracting thoughts ran through his brain, but above all +dominated the one idea that he must, at any hazard, try to find out +if the Padre Josef were alive or dead. If alive, he could loose these +agonizing bonds that were cutting his life-strings. If dead---- + +If dead, then no hope remained. + +At all events, the first step would be to see Frank Amberley. + +What if he essayed another interview with Lucia Guiscardini, and, armed +with his present knowledge, sought to extort some kind of confession +from her? Should he endeavor to make her tell whether she knew, or did +not know, if her brother yet lived? + +With his unhappy experience of her obstinate and violent temper, he +could scarcely hope for any good result from seeing her. He had no +power or influence over her, could offer no inducement of any kind to +persuade her to admit anything. Too well he knew beforehand that she +would flatly deny her marriage with Leonardo Gilardoni--would probably +deny that she had now or ever had had a brother at all. She would +either laugh in his face, or storm with rage, as the humor suited her. + +To seek out the priest would demand an immense outlay, and if, after +all, the search should prove unavailing, or he should be dead, then he, +Paul Desfrayne, would be left penniless, and possibly heavily in debt. + +Would it be well to send Gilardoni on the quest? No one would seek +as he should. Each little trifle that might escape others, however +hawk-eyed, would be sure clues to his eager, vengeful glance. + +“I will decide nothing now,” he at last thought. “I will be entirely +guided by Frank Amberley’s advice. He will be able to judge what is +best, and, if the search is advisable, will be capable of estimating +the probable expenses. My liberty alone would be worth ten years of my +life.” + +For a moment the vision of what might be if his freedom were secured +presented itself before his mind, but he dared not indulge in the +dangerous contemplation of such a joy, and sank into troubled slumbers +as the first rays of the morning sun penetrated into the chamber. + +His face looked worn and weary in the fresh morning beams, as it rested +on his arm. + +The heart of his fond mother must have been melted with love and pity +had she gazed on the distressed face, and noted the restless tossing of +the wearied body, to which sleep seemed to bring no refreshment. + + * * * * * + +The day came in its inevitable course. + +Lady Quaintree and Lois made sure that they would see Captain Desfrayne +during the afternoon. Ordinary etiquette, if no other feeling, must +bring him to inquire how the young ladies fared after their fright. + +Lady Quaintree did not attempt to induce Lois to confide in her. +Lois, on her side, did not volunteer any remark beyond a very few dry +commonplaces regarding the rescue of herself and Blanche Dormer from +their perilous situation. The young girl made no sign whereby Lady +Quaintree could judge of the state of her feelings. + +Both were prepared to wait with a kind of painful uncertainty for +Captain Desfrayne’s coming. Each wished, for different reasons, that +this journey had never been undertaken. + +Had any rational excuse been at hand, each would have urged an +immediate return to London. + +The question was settled very unexpectedly. As the three ladies rose +from breakfast, a servant came in very hurriedly, the bearer of a +telegram directed to Lady Quaintree. + +Her ladyship’s hand trembled slightly as she took the paper from the +salver, and she hesitated for a moment before breaking the envelope. + +Telegrams, when unexpected, are always more or less alarming, and Lady +Quaintree could not think of any possible good reason why any one +should address one to her. She took it out, however, and, putting on +her gold-rimmed spectacles, read the curt sentences: + + “Return as soon as possible. My father ill, though not seriously so. + He wishes for you. A train leaves Holston at 12:15; the next at 2:45.” + +It was from her son Gerald. + +Lady Quaintree gave the telegram to the two girls, while she inquired +if the messenger was still in waiting. + +The youth who had come from the railway-station was called into the +room. Lois wrote an answer from Lady Quaintree’s dictation to the +effect that they would start by the 12:15 train, and this was sent by +the same messenger who had brought the telegram. + +As the visit was simply a flying one, little preparation had been +made, and the ladies’ luggage was of the most portable description; so +Justine, who was hastily summoned, had nothing to do in the shape of +packing. + +Mrs. Ormsby was sent for, and came in dignified haste. + +“We are obliged to leave a day sooner than we had arranged for, Mrs. +Ormsby,” said Lady Quaintree. “Miss Turquand is not sure of what time +she may return, and it may be a long period before I come again. But we +are both well pleased with the order and arrangement of everything in +the establishment under your control.” + +The housekeeper curtsied to imply her thanks and gratification. Her +ladyship requested that the carriage might be ready at once, as they +left by the 12:15 train for London. + +A council of war was held as to the desirability of Blanche’s +accompanying them. No time remained for consulting her parents, so at +length Lady Quaintree settled that she should go with them. + +“Even if my lord should prove more unwell than my son admits,” she +said, “you will be a great comfort to me and to our dear Lois; and if +you should find my house irksome under the circumstances, I can easily +locate you with any one of half a dozen friends, who would be delighted +to receive you, my love.” + +The three were soon equipped for their journey. As the day was soft and +warm, almost threatening to be sultry and overcoming, the completion +of their toilets consisted in donning country straw hats, dainty lace +capes, and gloves. Lady Quaintree folded a soft white shawl of fine +silky wool about her, and they descended to the carriage, having +hurriedly partaken of luncheon prepared by Mrs. Ormsby. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE EXPRESS TO LONDON. + + +“What messages are we to leave for Captain Desfrayne, my dear?” asked +Lady Quaintree of Lois. + +They had both left his name to the last, each loath to be the one to +recall it. + +Her ladyship noted, while apparently trying to master a refractory +button on her glove, that the rose tint on Lois’ cheeks deepened, and +then flowed over the rest of her face, while the long, dark lashes +drooped. + +“Dear madam,” said the young girl, “that is a question I should rather +have asked you, who know so much better than I do the proper things to +be said.” + +“Proper, my love,” repeated the old lady, smiling. “It is not a matter +of saying ‘proper’ or ‘civil’ things. What do you wish to say?” + +The color faded from Lois’ face, and then flowed back again in a +roseate glow. + +“I am sure Miss Dormer and I are both most grateful to Captain +Desfrayne for his kindness----” began Lois. + +Blanche put her hands on Lois’ waist, and gave her a gentle shake, and +a glance of reproach. + +“‘Miss Dormer!’ You unkind Lois!” she said. “I thought I had asked you +to call me Blanche.” + +Lois felt as if she must say things worthy of smiling rebuke, whether +she willed it or not. + +“Come, we must leave some message, in case the captain should happen to +call,” said Lady Quaintree. + +“Mrs. Ormsby,” she continued, turning to the housekeeper, who was +following to attend them to their carriage, “if Captain Desfrayne--the +gentleman who dined here yesterday--should come during the day, will +you be good enough to inform him that we were unexpectedly summoned to +London on the most urgent affairs?” + +“I will do so, my lady,” replied Mrs. Ormsby. + +The carriage drove off, containing the three ladies, Justine and the +one or two other servants immediately attending them. There was no time +to send for Blanche’s maid; but it was agreed that she should be sent +for at once on their arrival at Lowndes Square. + +Lois gazed at the stately Hall and its lovely grounds, with strange, +mingled feelings, as the carriage bore her swiftly away. An +uncomfortable sensation rose in her throat, as if tears of regret were +stealing from their hiding-place, as she reflected that she was in all +likelihood losing a chance of seeing Paul Desfrayne, and hearing his +promised explanation. + +“He will come to-day; and I shall not be here,” she thought. + +His face and form haunted her, try as she would to banish the +recollection. A dangerous longing, inexplicable to herself, rose in +her heart, just to see him once more. A wicked longing, she knew, if +he belonged to another. And the impediment which hindered him from +addressing her was evidently an insuperable one. His words, although +mystifying, left no doubt. + +“I wish I had never seen or heard of him,” she said to herself. “Yet +why should I let myself think of him in this foolish, weak way. My +pride, if nothing else, should forbid my wishing even to see him. It is +enough that he has assured me he can never think of me. Why do I think +about him, except as a harassing care forced on me? I have known him +but a few days; he is a stranger, an absolute stranger to me, and yet I +continue to brood over his words, and my resentment against him seems +gone.” + +The drive to the station was even pleasanter than the drive of the +day before. As yet the day was tolerably cool, and snow-white clouds +flecked a sky of purest blue. + +Lady Quaintree was not sorry to be rid of the handsome claimant to her +protégée’s hand, heart, and desirable fortune, if it were only for a +while. She could not, for all her maternal pride, be blind to the fact +that Paul Desfrayne would be a formidable rival to her Gerald, unless +the latter could secure a very firm interest in the affections of the +young lady who might be addressed by both. + +A polite guard chose a convenient compartment for the ladies. A smile, +a hasty uplifting of the finger to his cap as Lady Quaintree’s delicate +pearl-gray glove approached his brown palm, and then he closed the door +respectfully. + +But at the last moment, and just as the guard blew his whistle, a +gentleman came rushing on the platform. + +“Going by the express, sir? Here you are, sir--here you are. Not a +minute to be lost,” cried the guard. + +The good fellow had intended that the ladies should have their +compartment all to themselves; but he had no time to move from the spot +where he stood. The train began to draw its snakelike body to move out +from the station. He threw open the door, and the gentleman sprang +lightly on the step, steadied himself for an instant, and then entered. + +The three ladies turned their gaze simultaneously on their fellow +passengers, and the same exclamation escaped their lips at the same +moment: + +“Captain Desfrayne!” + + * * * * * + +Truly, Captain Desfrayne on his way to London to consult Frank +Amberley. He recognized the ladies as he balanced himself on the step +of the carriage. + +Had it been possible, he would have drawn back, and gone anywhere +rather than continue this journey in Lois’ company. For a second his +eyes met hers. New hope, clouded by pain and uncertainty, beamed in +his; fear, timid reproach, inquiry, doubt, glanced from hers. + +Blanche could not help exchanging a look of amazement with Lois, nor +could it escape her notice that the telltale crimson mounted to Miss +Turquand’s cheeks, just now so pale. + +“Captain Desfrayne! An unexpected pleasure,” said Lady Quaintree, +extending her hand, though secretly ill pleased. + +“Quite so,” answered Captain Desfrayne, himself anything but delighted. +“I had not the most distant idea you and Miss Turquand intended to quit +Flore Hall so soon.” + +He could not hinder his eyes from wandering to Lois’ face. The young +girl, filled with anger at his inconsistent conduct, averted her head, +and gazed from the window. When she stole a glance at him again, he was +looking from the window on his side, his face clouded by the care and +trouble that seemed rarely absent. + +Nobody said much during the journey; for subjects of conversation were +not readily found, and even Blanche had abundant matter for mental +consideration. + +To Lois and Paul Desfrayne, it seemed like a dream more than reality. + +The thickly clustered houses, the red-tiled roofs and chimney-pots +began to give intimation that they were nearing London. + +“We may not hope, then, to see much of you this week, at any rate?” +Lady Quaintree observed, shaking herself out of a brief slumber. + +He shook his head. + +“I must go back to Holston as soon as I can,” he replied. + +The express slackened speed, and at last rolled into the terminus. + +Gerald was waiting for his mother on the platform. He assisted her +from the carriage, leaving the care of the two young girls to Captain +Desfrayne. + +Lady Quaintree eagerly paused to make anxious inquiries about her +husband. She had moved on a few steps, and Captain Desfrayne felt he +must offer some kind of excuse to Lois for not affording her the clue +to his mysterious behavior he had promised. He laid a tremulous hand on +her wrist, and drew her some steps away from her friend. + +“Miss Turquand,” he said eagerly, looking her full in the face, a +deeply troubled, excited expression in his eyes, “I must entreat of +you not to judge me harshly, but with mercy and kindness. I merit all +your pity. I am a most unhappy man. It would have been well if I could +have explained my position last night, as I meant to do; but this is no +time or place to end the conversation then begun and interrupted. May I +beseech you to suspend your judgment until I have been able to tell you +how I am circumstanced?” + +“I have no right to judge you,” said Lois coldly. “If you are unhappy, +you have my pity.” + +She felt piqued that he fixed no time for giving her the promised +explanation. He left her still mystified. + +“Will you give me your promise not to condemn me until you have heard +my story?” urged Paul Desfrayne. + +“I repeat, I have no right to judge you,” said Lois. “Those who have +the care of me and my affairs have the best right to hear what you have +to say.” + +If her words sounded cold and repelling to her hearer, they were yet +more so to herself. She felt that she spoke harshly, and with scarcely +veiled bitterness, and, as she saw the young man droop his head, she +hastily added, with a softened tone: + +“Your language, sir, is strange and perplexing to me. You allude +to some unhappy circumstances, of which, as you say, I am entirely +ignorant. If you see fit to explain these circumstances to me, I think +you may count on my sympathy. If you do not deem it necessary that I +should be further acquainted with them, let it be forgotten that you +have ever touched on them at all.” + +The young girl, faint and agitated from contending feelings, put out +her hands like one who does not see her way clearly. Blanche, who had +drawn back, stepped hastily to her side, and gave her an arm to lean +upon. + +“My poor darling!” whispered Blanche tenderly. + +The sympathetic accents vibrated on Lois’ heart like an electric +shock. She roused herself from the momentary weakness to which she had +yielded, and extended her hand to Captain Desfrayne. + +“Adieu, sir,” she said. + +The young man caught her hand, and involuntarily pressed the slender +fingers within his own. He gazed for an instant into the dreamy eyes, +so pure, so frank, so truthful, so trusting, then, loosing the little +hand, turned away with a deep sigh. + +As he did so, Lady Quaintree looked back, and made a signal to the +girls to accompany her to the carriage, which was in waiting. She +smiled in her own gracious way upon the young officer, though she +really wished him at Jericho. + +He advanced, and lifted his hat. + +“I presume, madam, I can be of no service to you?” he said, glancing +for a moment at the Honorable Gerald, who was unknown to him. + +Lady Quaintree, remembering that the young men were strangers to each +other, introduced them. + +“If you should happen to make a longer stay in town than you count on,” +she said, “we shall be very pleased to see you, either this evening, +or to-morrow, or at any time it may suit you to come. I find my lord’s +illness is not of so serious a nature as at first appeared.” + +An interchange of civil smiles, a shake or two of the hand, some polite +valedictory salutations, and the brief whirling scene was over--past as +a dream. + +“I think I was right,” murmured Blanche, in her friend’s ear, as they +drove off in Lady Quaintree’s luxurious carriage. + +Lois tightly pressed the hand that tenderly sought her own; but did not +meet Blanche’s eye, which she feared for the moment. + +Paul Desfrayne threw himself into a hansom. + +“Alderman’s Lane,” he cried to the driver. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +FRANK AMBERLEY’S ADVICE. + + +Captain Desfrayne was at first so eager and vehement, that Frank +Amberley found it a little difficult to disentangle the strange story +he had to tell. + +The young lawyer did not find himself in an agreeable position. In the +secret depths of his heart he would have infinitely preferred that +Paul Desfrayne should remain bound. So long as his marriage was an +unalterable fact, there was no fear of his carrying off Lois. There was +scant hope for Frank himself, poor fellow; but he was asked to give +his best aid toward demolishing the great bar to her union with this +powerful rival. If she did not care for any one else--and he reflected +with a sigh that she cared little for himself--the probability was that +she would not raise any urgent objections toward fulfilling her dead +benefactor’s wishes. + +But he was generous, and scorned to act a mean and dishonorable part. +The cloud was dissipated from his grave, kind face by a sad smile, and +he said: + +“You wish to ask my advice and assistance how to proceed?” + +“I shall be most thankful if you will give me your opinion as to how I +ought to act,” answered his visitor. + +“Is there any chance of your being able to compel this--your--Madam +Guiscardini to confess whether she has or has not destroyed the stolen +register?” + +“None that I can see. She is of a most stubborn nature. Even if there +were no particular object to be gained, I believe she would obstinately +refuse to do or say anything that did not suit or please her.” + +“I am sincerely sorry for your cruel situation,” said Frank Amberley, +in a tone of profound feeling. + +“Of that I am assured,” replied Paul Desfrayne; “and I come to you in +the full confidence that you will help me to the utmost of your power.” + +“The register being, we will say, destroyed, there is no resource but +to trace out the priest who married Lucia to her peasant lover?” + +“None.” + +“But the expense would be something frightful. There would probably be +a great delay, and in the end perhaps the man might not be discovered.” + +“Could you form any idea of what the search might cost?” + +“It would necessarily depend on the persons employed. If I understood +you aright, you have not trusted your servant, Gilardoni, with the +secret of your own unhappy marriage?” + +“I have not. For one reason, I could not bear to humiliate myself; for +another, I desired to consult you before moving a step or speaking a +word.” + +“I am afraid you will be obliged to take him into your confidence. He +is master of the circumstances; he would have the strongest motive for +tracing out the missing person. He would probably be more economical +and more devoted than any stranger could be. Send him, and let him be +accompanied by a professional detective. Perhaps the search may not be +such a lengthened one as you fear.” + +Paul Desfrayne reflected for a few moments. + +“I had already resolved to abide by your advice,” he said. “Let it +be so. I would give all I have in the world to be free from the +consequences of my own mad folly. When could he set out?” + +“As soon as he could make the necessary preparations. The sooner the +better, I should say.” + +“What do you think the expenses would be likely to come to? It would be +a bitter disappointment should the search continue for a certain time, +and fail almost at the last for want of funds.” + +“Gilardoni, having traveled a good deal on the Continent, as I +understand you have implied, and being accustomed to manage for himself +and others, would be able to give you a better estimate than I could +form. In his hands, I don’t think, after all, it would be so very +great. Say ten or fifteen pounds a week. Suppose it took him ten +months, or even fourteen or eighteen, the calculation is easy.” + +“I will send him to you to-morrow, my dear friend,” said Paul +Desfrayne. “Heaven grant me a happy issue to this search. But--but the +suspense will be something unbearable.” + +“Why, you will constantly hear how the affair is progressing,” urged +Frank Amberley. “Do you think I could aid you by insisting on an +interview with--with this woman?” + +Paul shook his head. + +“I fear it would be time wasted,” he answered. “She would, perhaps, +insult and annoy you----” + +“Pshaw! Her most violent attack would only make me laugh, my dear +fellow,” interrupted Frank Amberley. “It would be amusing. In fact, +I should really like to see this lovely tigress in her own den. One +doesn’t often enjoy a chance of interviewing a beautiful fury.” + +Paul Desfrayne grasped Frank’s hands, and looked earnestly into those +open, candid eyes that yet faithfully veiled the secret that their +owner was a noble, self-sacrificing hero, offering up a possible +gleam of happiness on the altar of duty. Paul saw nothing but a kind, +pleasant, genial man, who undertook a matter of business with the +genial air of a friend. + +“I leave the affair entirely in your care,” he said, “knowing full well +that you will not neglect anything that may tend to free me from the +cruel burden that weighs me down.” + +“You give me permission to speak as fully to this Italian valet as I +may find necessary?” asked Frank Amberley. + +He lowered his gaze as he demanded this; his heart felt heavy and sad, +and he feared lest Paul Desfrayne might read his thoughts. + +“Certainly. I give you carte blanche in every way.” + +“You do not object to my visiting Madam Guiscardini?” + +“I should be rejoiced if you undertook the unpleasant task, were it +only to hear what she has to say. It would be a very different matter +bullying a fellow like Gilardoni, and tackling a practised English +lawyer like yourself.” + +“I should think so. Where is she to be found?” + +“When I called at her house on Monday, I was informed that madam had +gone to Paris, and nobody knew when she would return. On consulting the +newspapers, however, I found she was advertised to appear on Friday +night----” + +“To-morrow evening?” + +“Yes. I have been told that she prides herself on never disappointing +the public, and that she has never failed once since her first +appearance to perform on the nights for which she is announced. Her +health is excellent, and she is passionately devoted to her art.” + +“Then, if I find she refuses to see me at her house----By the way, +where does she live?” + +“She did live in Porchester Square; but may change on her return, by +way of giving a little trouble to those who may want to see her when it +does not suit her to be visited. But here is the address.” + +He scribbled down the number and name of the square on the back of one +of his own cards. + +“Have you--did you--that is to say--I mean, has any explanation passed +between you and Miss Turquand?” inquired Frank Amberley, with some +embarrassment. + +“I wished to speak to her--to tell her how unhappily I am situated,” +replied Paul Desfrayne hesitatingly. + +“Did you give her any notion of the nature of this barrier?” asked +Frank Amberley. + +“I scarcely know what I said; but I should imagine she could readily +guess to what I must allude. I accidentally traveled in her company +this morning.” + +“Indeed! Has she returned to London?” + +“Lady Quaintree received a telegram stating that her husband was +unwell----” + +“Good heavens! Unwell? I must go to Lowndes Square this evening,” +exclaimed Frank, in great concern. “Do you know what is the matter with +him?” + +Paul shook his head. + +“Lady Quaintree was my informant, and she said that the telegram +stated simply the fact, without entering into detail.” + +“I will go there directly office-hours are over. In case I see Miss +Turquand, and have any opportunity of speaking to her, is it still your +wish that I should enlighten her as to the state of your affairs?” + +“It is essential that she should not be left in ignorance,” said Paul. +“It is my duty to inform her without delay, as my silence may be +injurious to her.” But he sighed heavily as he spoke. + +“I will use my own discretion,” said Frank Amberley. “But I could not +take any important step without your special sanction. You will send +this Italian valet to me?” + +“At once--early to-morrow morning.” + +“We will set him to work directly he can make his own personal +arrangements. I will make a point of seeing madam. If I do not succeed +in obtaining an interview with her at her residence, I will endeavor to +surprise her at the opera-house. I think it best to defer engaging a +detective to accompany Gilardoni until I see him. You will not be able +to come up to-morrow?” + +“I fear not. Besides, I could not endure to be present when you inform +him of my position.” + +“Well, then, what I have to do is, firstly, this evening, to try to +find a chance of enlightening Miss Turquand; secondly, to-morrow +morning, to hold a consultation with and give instructions to this +Leonardo Gilardoni; thirdly, to-morrow evening, to endeavor to surprise +Madam Guiscardini into some kind of admission, and, if I do not see +her, I must make an opportunity of doing so on Saturday or Monday, or +some time next week. The way is plain enough. Whether it leads to a +happy harbor of rest remains to be seen.” + +“It will be impossible for me ever to thank you sufficiently,” said +Paul Desfrayne. + +“Do not speak of that,” replied Frank Amberley. “Are you obliged to +return to your quarters at once?” + +“At once; yes.” + +The two men clasped hands, and parted. + +Lady Quaintree found that her husband’s illness was not of a seriously +alarming nature, but yet sufficiently grave to justify Gerald in +sending for her. The doctor had ordered the patient to bed; but it was +not necessary for any one to remain with him to watch. Her ladyship, +therefore, with her son and the two young ladies, was at liberty to +dine as usual. + +It was not yet the hour fixed for dinner when Frank Amberley arrived at +the house. + +“Mr. Gerald went out, sir, and has not come home yet, though he said +he’d be back to dinner,” the domestic said. “But the young ladies are +in the drawing-room.” + +The servant threw open the door, announced Mr. Amberley, and then +retired. + +Throughout the house the lamps had been lighted, but were all still +turned down to a mere spark; for the long summer days had only begun +to show signs of shortening. In the drawing-room, a soft, amber glow, +subdued and mellow, mingled its rays with the dreamy semitwilight. + +At first, the profound, peaceful silence made Frank Amberley imagine +the apartment was uninhabited; but, as the door closed, a soft swish of +silken garments undeceived him. + +For a moment his heart fluttered with pain and pleasure at the +thought that he was possibly alone with Lois; but instantly after the +unfamiliar figure of Blanche Dormer presented itself. + +She had been reading one of the new magazines, nestling in a quiet +corner by one of the windows. + +It was a sufficiently embarrassing situation, as neither knew what to +say. A formal salutation passed, and then Miss Dormer meditated for a +moment or two how she could best manage to beat a retreat. + +Presently, however, these two forgot their embarrassment, and found +themselves chatting together as if they had been friends for a dozen +years. + +In about ten minutes Lois appeared, and Blanche did not then think it +necessary to run away. Miss Turquand was, of course, quite unconscious +that Frank Amberley had any special communication to make, and totally +unaware that he took any particular interest in Captain Desfrayne. + +When Lady Quaintree came down, she found the three young people sitting +near one of the windows, engaged in what seemingly was an agreeable and +almost lively conversation. As she stood for a moment at the door, an +odd thought struck her for the first time. + +“What a charming wife for Frank Blanchette would make!” she said to +herself. + +She pressed Frank to stay to dinner, and he very gladly accepted her +invitation. + +Although saddened by the absence of the master of the house, the little +dinner-party was extremely pleasant. Gerald returned just in time +to meet his mother, the young ladies, and his Cousin Frank, in the +drawing-room before they went down-stairs. + +As Frank was a member of the family, he had every right and excuse, +though not living in the house, to linger after dinner. He felt +loath to depart. Not only was every moment spent in the presence of +Lois exquisitely sweet to him; but it might be long before he could +conveniently obtain so favorable an opportunity for speaking to her as +he should probably find this evening. He was right in staying; for the +moment came at last. + +Lady Quaintree was up-stairs, Gerald and Miss Dormer were talking +together, and there seemed no immediate fear of interruption. + +Then Frank Amberley braced up his nerves, and prepared himself for the +duty he had undertaken. + +He thought it best to inform Lois of the entire story, as far as he +was master thereof, withholding the name of the lady, however, and the +fact that she had been already married when she became the wife of Paul +Desfrayne. He thought that if the search for the Padre Josef should +prove unsuccessful, as it probably might do, it would not be well +either to unsettle Lois’ mind, or to fix an additional brand on Captain +Desfrayne. + +Lois listened in dead silence, pulling out the lace of her handkerchief +mechanically. It was not until the close of the little history that she +made any comment. Frank ended at the stormy departure of the signora +on the morning of her marriage with Captain Desfrayne. + +“It is a sad story,” she said, in a low, faint tone. “I am deeply +sorry for him; and I am--I am sorry that--that his name should have +been--been linked with mine in--in Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will.” + +“I rely upon you not to let any one have a suspicion of this +unfortunate affair,” urged Frank Amberley. + +Lois assured him she would keep the matter a profound secret. She +longed to get away to the solitude of her own chamber, there to reflect +on what she had heard; but could think of no excuse. A strange, +unaccountable sinking of the heart oppressed her. + +“Why do I thus think about one who is a stranger to me, and can never +be aught else?” she asked herself. “I must dismiss the subject from my +mind forever after this night.” + +And yet she caught herself wondering when she should again meet Paul +Desfrayne, and planning how she should behave to him. + +Frank Amberley watched her face with all the eager devotion of a man +hopelessly, irretrievably in love, utterly unconscious that the bright +eyes of the pretty country girl in white muslin and blue ribbons +wandered many times his way. It was with difficulty that he restrained +a passionate, plainly worded avowal of his love and adoration, and +resisted the desire to ask Lois if there was any chance of his being +able to win the slightest return of his all-engrossing passion. + +He was pretty confident that up to this time she had not cared +specially for any one, and he believed it to be perfectly impossible +that any other human being could love her as deeply, as truly as he did. + +A few moments more, and he might have tempted his fate, and might have +gained some answer leading him to hope; but the door of the center +drawing-room opened, and Lady Quaintree came through the silken archway +between the two salons. + +Her ladyship was ill pleased to see Lois and Frank together, and +dissatisfied to notice that Gerald appeared much taken with the +lively, piquant Blanche Dormer, who was playing with a not altogether +unskilful hand at the pleasant game of flirtation. It would not suit +the inclination of Lady Quaintree did Gerald fall in love with and +marry this young girl, even if she did carry twenty thousand pounds as +her dot. + +Without appearing inhospitable--nay, she seemed to be sorry to break up +the little party--she made it apparent to Frank that it would be only +kind and considerate of him to take an early departure, in order that +the ladies might rest after their hurried journey. + +Turn which way she would, Lois could not rid herself of the haunting +figure of Paul Desfrayne. When she gained her own room, she sat down at +the foot of her bed to think. + +“I am glad, I know,” she whispered to herself. “Oh! I am sorry for +him, though I fear he scarcely deserves that any one should pity him, +when he was guilty of such folly. He ought to have had more sense--he +ought not to have allowed himself to be carried away by such a foolish +fancy. Yet it seems a heavy punishment for a passing folly. They say: +‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure.’ Lifelong unhappiness, poor fellow! +No wonder he seems strange, and different from other people. He is +quite different from any one I ever saw. How wicked and ungrateful this +girl must have been! It is inconceivable that any creature could have +behaved so vilely toward him. He seems so good, so kind, so----What +nonsense am I running off into, when I know nothing about him!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE FIGURE ROBED IN BLACK. + + +On leaving Alderman’s Lane, Captain Desfrayne made a hurried luncheon, +and then at once returned to the station, to start therefrom back to +his quarters. + +He had forgotten to ascertain the exact hour at which the train left; +the consequence was he had to wait some five-and-thirty minutes. That +delay cost a life. + +When fairly seated in the train, Paul had full leisure for reflection. +His thoughts were not pleasant. + +He had not dared to stay to see his mother. It had been difficult and +bitter enough to tell her the fatal secret of his unhappy marriage. To +let her know the deeper humiliation in which he found himself involved +would just now be impossible. It would be time enough to reveal this +additional misery when the search proved successful; if it failed---- + +If it failed! + +“I fancied I could not be more wretched,” he thought. “I was mistaken. +Could it be possible to wring a confession from Guiscardini? Alas, no! +Her nature is absolutely callous. She would elect to be bound to me +rather than to my servant. How am I to face my servant--how am I to +tell my wretched story? My pride is trailed in the dust. My name, given +to my charge free from spot or taint, is stained and splashed with +shame.” + +It was night before he reached Holston. Arrived there, he engaged the +last rickety old fly left within the precincts of the station, and +drove to the barracks. + +The vehicle had lumbered its way almost to the gates, when Captain +Desfrayne, happening to look from the open window, to ascertain how far +it had proceeded, saw, by the long, slanting rays cast from the lamps, +a female figure, draped in black, closely veiled, hurrying along the +road toward the station. + +The mien, the step, even the somber robes, seemed somehow familiar to +Paul Desfrayne. He put his hands to his forehead in horror and despair. + +“Great heavens! It is impossible!” he cried. “Am I going out of my +senses? Is this figure conjured up by my disordered brain, or is +it--can it be--Lucia Guiscardini? It _cannot_ be--and yet--and yet it +is her very walk--her insolent bearing.” + +The wild idea that it might be her spirit for an instant crossed his +mind--a pardonable notion in the excited state of his brain, for the +swiftly gliding form looked spectral in the blackness of the summer +night, seeming more shadowy from being draped in such dark vesture. + +Recovering from the first shock, however, he hurriedly stopped the +vehicle, ordering the coachman to wait for him, and ran back in the +direction the misty form had traversed. + +He looked from side to side, and even struck with his cane the bushes +that grew by the edge of the road on either hand, but no sign betrayed +that any human creature besides himself and the old man seated on the +box of the fly were within miles. + +Distracted by contending feelings, he went hastily back to the spot +where he had left the vehicle. The driver, an old and stupid man, was +almost asleep, and stolidly awaited the return of his fare, without +troubling to guess why he had so suddenly alighted. + +“Did you see any one pass just now?” demanded Captain Desfrayne +excitedly. + +“No, sur, I can’t say I did,” replied the driver. + +“Not a woman?” + +“Not a soul.” + +“A woman dressed in black, walking very quickly toward the station?” + +“I see no one at all, sur. Be there onything wrong at all?” + +“I can’t tell. I hope not. You think, if any one passed along this +road, they must go to the station?” + +“Unless they stopped in the fields.” + +“Is your horse very tired?” + +“No--he bain’t so fresh as he moight be, but----” + +“I want to return to the station for a few minutes, and after that to +resume my way to the barracks,” said Paul Desfrayne. “Drive as fast as +you can.” + +So firmly persuaded was he of the reality of Lucia Guiscardini’s +appearance on this lonely spot that he was resolved to seek some +information of the clerk and porters at the railway. He reentered the +shaky old vehicle; the stolid old driver whipped the weary old horse, +and in a minute they were returning the way they came. + +There was just a possibility that he might surprise her at the station. +What conceivable motive could she have had for coming hither? Probably +to see Gilardoni, her legal and legitimate husband. But why visit him +in this secret manner, when at any moment she could have commanded his +presence at a place infinitely more suitable? There was not much doubt +that her apparition boded evil. + +As the fly came in sight of the station, Paul had the satisfaction of +seeing the last train for London slowly puff and snort its way along +its destined iron track. + +“Wait here until I come back,” he said to the coachman, and then rushed +into the station. + +“Did a lady dressed in black take a ticket here just now?” he asked of +the ticket-clerk. + +“No, sir.” + +Paul Desfrayne looked about for one of the porters. After a little +delay he found one half-asleep on a bench, for the last trains had +departed for the night. He shook the man by the shoulder. + +“Did you see a lady dressed in black just now? I believe she must have +gone by the train to London, and must have had a return ticket.” + +“I was not here when the train for London left, sir,” replied the man +respectfully. “The other porter was on duty--I was in the office.” + +“Where is he?” demanded Paul Desfrayne. + +He seemed destined to be baffled at every turn. + +“I’m afraid he’s gone, sir.” + +An inquiry resulted in proving the fear to be correct. Another inquiry +elicited the fact that he lived a mile and a half away across some +fields. + +In no very enviable frame of mind, Captain Desfrayne returned to his +waiting fly, to continue his broken journey to the barracks. + +“Did you find her, sur?” asked the flyman. + +The young man shook his head, too much dejected, and even physically +exhausted, to be able to otherwise reply. + +At length he reached his quarters, when he dismissed the vehicle in +which he had come. To-morrow he meant to seek once again for evidence +as to whether the lady dressed in black had been seen by any other than +himself. + +His rooms seemed strangely silent as he approached them. Gilardoni +had hitherto contrived to make his presence cheerful, and always had +a reality as well as words of welcome for his master. A bright glow +of pleasant light, gleaming through doors ajar, a slight movement of +ever-busy feet or hands, had given under his influence a faint tinge of +_home_. + +The door of the first room was ajar, though scarce perceptibly so. A +dim ray of light struggled through, as if seeking to disclose some +ghastly secret. A silence as of the grave reigned. Apparently not a +living creature was within the apartments. + +Paul Desfrayne paused for a minute or two before entering. A strange, +painful foreboding seized him. What he feared he dared not admit to +himself. + +What if that woman--Lucia Guiscardini--had come hither with some +sinister motive, and had slain her husband in one of her almost +ungovernable fits of passion? + +But no, it could not be. What end could she hope to gain? She valued +her own safety, her own ease; she prized this beautiful and splendid +world too highly to let her temper carry her to such a dangerous +extreme. + +Gilardoni had fallen asleep. The hour was late, and he was, no doubt, +weary with waiting. + +Taking up the heavy lamp, Paul held it above his head as he entered the +second chamber, which was a sitting-room. + +Directly opposite to the door, in an oblique direction, was a couch, +the first object on which Captain Desfrayne’s eyes rested. + +At full length upon this couch, in an attitude that seemed to indicate +the young man was enjoying an easy sleep, lay Leonardo Gilardoni. + +Paul Desfrayne placed the lamp on a side table, and then said rather +loudly: + +“Gilardoni, my good fellow!” + +The recumbent figure made no sign of awaking. Paul Desfrayne, seriously +uneasy, but still fighting with his fears, crossed the room, and placed +a hand on the sleeper’s shoulder. + +“Gilardoni, awake!” he said, in a voice which, spite of his effort at +self-constraint, trembled. + +Not the faintest sound issued from the pallid lips. Not a movement +showed the smallest sign of life. + +Paul Desfrayne at last placed the palm of his hand upon the temples of +the apparently sleeping man. They were almost ice-cold. + +The young officer caught the hands lying outstretched on either side +the silent, rigid form, and felt for the pulse, his heart throbbing so +violently as well-nigh to suffocate him. + +With a groan of despair, he dropped the cold hands. Leonardo Gilardoni +was dead. + +One cruel touch had sent him from the world--one touch of those +delicate waxen fingers he had loved so much and kissed with transport +so often--one little stroke from the hand of the woman he had so +fatally wasted his heart upon, the wife he had idolized, for whom he +would have laid down his life willingly in the days of his fond, blind +worship. + +Only too truly did Paul Desfrayne now understand the meaning of that +woman’s mysterious presence here. But why had she come--for what reason +had she risked her very life--what advantage did she promise herself +from this horrible deed? It was absolutely impossible she could have +heard anything of the projected search for her brother. The only idea +he could conjure up was that the Padre Josef was on his way back to +Europe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S DIAMOND RING. + + +Paul Desfrayne’s eyes had not deceived him. He had really and truly +seen Lucia Guiscardini hurrying away from the scene of her murderous +treachery. + +A woman of insatiable ambition, she had resolved to let nothing stand +in the way of her advancement to the highest dignities she could hope +to reach. + +Ignorant, ungovernable in her temper, resentful when any one crossed +her path, or tried to hinder her from following her own fancies, she +was at once resolute in planning schemes, and unscrupulous in carrying +them out. + +During her brief flight to Paris, on escaping what she felt would be a +useless interview with Captain Desfrayne, she had reflected with all +the force of her cunning brain as to the course she should take. + +It was true that a Russian prince, reputed to be of fabulous wealth, +was devoted to her, and had offered his heart, hand, royal coronet, and +vast possessions. His diamonds alone would have been a lure to her; and +neither by day nor by night could she resist the glittering, delicious +dreams conjured up by his offers. + +She had not destroyed the marriage-register stolen from the charge +of her brother--not because she was withheld from the deed by any +conscientious scruple, but she did not know what the punishment for so +black a crime might be were she ever discovered. + +Until she accidentally saw Leonardo Gilardoni speaking to Captain +Desfrayne, she had not for some time been aware whether he was living +or dead. + +A sudden terror seized her when she found that these two men had come +together. It would have been a welcome relief if she could have been +sure they would release her from her bondage; but she knew that both +had every reason to hate her with the bitterness of men who had been +utterly ruined by her cruel hand, and she felt persuaded that they +were bent on dragging her to justice. + +She kept the book she so keenly abhorred hidden in a cabinet with a +peculiar lock and several secret drawers, and, in fear lest Leonardo +should be the means of a search being made among the papers, she +thought and thought until her head ached from sheer pain and weariness +of the desirability of burning the telltale pages. But the vague dread +of the unknown penalty withheld her, even when she once took out the +parchment-covered volume, and stood contemplating it. She had but to +ignite a taper close at hand, and the deed would be accomplished in a +few minutes. + +“But I dare not,” she shudderingly decided. “No; I must pursue another +plan.” + +With infinite caution and craftiness, she ascertained whither Paul +Desfrayne had gone, and found for certain that he had taken Gilardoni +with him. Determined to see her husband, but afraid to send for him, or +to leave any trace that they had met, she had dressed herself in plain +dark clothes, of a very different description from those she usually +wore, and had gone down to Holston. + +As the express arrived in London, the train in which she was to start +was slowly filling with passengers. From the window of the second-class +carriage, in which she had purposely seated herself, she had seen Paul +Desfrayne alight, and then linger to speak with the young lady, whose +appearance was completely unfamiliar to the Italian singer. She felt +thankful that there would be no risk of meeting him at Holston. + +A porter happened to be near the door of the compartment, and she asked +him when the next train would leave London for Holston. The man went to +look at the time-table, and returned with the information that there +would not be one until 6:15. She thanked the porter with a smile. + +“Good,” she thought to herself. “I shall have time enough for my little +talk.” + +Arrived at Holston, she walked toward the barracks, which, unless she +could not help herself, she did not intend to enter. There was a dingy, +uninviting public house in the vicinity, and a few cottages sprinkled +about. + +After a brief consideration, she went up to one of the most +decent-looking of the latter, where an old woman sat knitting by the +door. + +The old dame readily allowed her to sit down, and, after a short, +desultory talk, the signora, who affected to be a very plain person +indeed, asked the woman if there was any boy about who would run on a +message to the barracks. + +“I want to see my husband,” she said very simply. “You see, he and I +had a quarrel before he left London, and I am so unhappy. I believe I +was to blame; but I don’t want to go there, and be looked at by the men +there. My husband might be displeased by my coming.” + +The old dame sympathized with the young wife’s feelings, and readily +found a lout of a boy, who stared with all his eyes at the beautiful +stranger in the somber garments. + +Madam Guiscardini gave him a tiny note in a sealed envelope, directed +to Mr. Gilardoni, and slipped a shilling into his hand. She could not +venture to give him more, lest he should talk. The boy went, and the +signora waited, listening to the old woman’s talk, and comprehending no +more of her babble than she did of the buzzing of the bees and flies in +the neat little garden. + +Within half an hour she saw, as she looked eagerly from the window, the +well-known form of Leonardo Gilardoni rapidly approaching the cottage, +accompanied by her messenger. Her note had contained only a line or +two, in Italian: + + “Leonardo, I would see you. I have something of importance to say to + you. The bearer of this will tell you where to find me. LUCIA.” + +She was still standing by the window when he entered the diminutive +room. They had not met since that day he had surprised her in the +garden at Florence. The recollection of that day came back on both with +a rush. + +Leonardo paused on the threshold. Lucia did not move. + +“You have sent for me?” he said. + +The signora shrugged her shoulders and smiled mockingly, it seemed to +her husband. + +“Why have you sent for me?” he demanded. + +She left her place by the window, and came near to him. + +“What I have to say,” she answered, “I would not that other ears than +yours should hear. Will you walk a little way with me toward the +corn-fields I see yonder?” pointing from the window at the back of the +room. + +“It is indifferent to me where I listen to you. It is impossible you +can have aught to say that will be pleasant for me to hear,” replied +Gilardoni bitterly. + +“That remains to be seen,” she lightly replied. “Perhaps I may have +something to say that will please you very much indeed.” + +For a moment he thought that perhaps she knew her brother was coming +back, and that she desired to offer some kind of compromise, or to +throw herself on his mercy. But he followed very quietly as she led +the way down the narrow path of the garden at the rear of the cottage, +brushing past the common yet sweet-smelling humble country flowers, +until they were at the bottom, and could step unimpeded into a piece of +ground that ran between the garden and the corn-field, where the golden +grain lay like a yellow sea. + +Here no one could possibly overhear what passed, and presently they +would be out of sight of even the cottages that lay sprinkled about. +Then Lucia spoke. Her voice was firm and calm, her manner composed. + +“Leonardo Gilardoni, I acknowledge no claim you may choose to make upon +me, but I wish to be free from any annoyance you may possibly, from +spite, think fit to bring upon me. I have received offers of marriage +from a nobleman of the highest rank, and of immense wealth. It is my +purpose to accept these offers.” + +“While you are the wife of another?” exclaimed Gilardoni. + +“Prove your words,” she disdainfully replied. “But that you cannot do, +be they true or false. I have not come here to bandy words with you as +to my real position. I am well aware that, although your accusations +would be totally without foundation, yet, if breathed to his highness, +they would prejudice him against me. Therefore, I wish to silence you. +If you refuse to accede to my proposition, it does not signify your +using it as an additional proof of your base calumnies, for you will +not be able to show that I ever made it.” + +“Go on. Your proposition?” + +“If you will agree to sign a paper, acknowledging that there is not +the slightest foundation for your assertion that I have been married +before--to you--and will further agree that on signing this paper you +will depart for America, and promise never to return, I will settle ten +thousand pounds on you. Nay, do not speak. I trust to your promise, for +I know you would not break your word, nor would you promise lightly.” + +Leonardo Gilardoni broke into a bitter laugh as he folded his arms and +looked his wife steadily in the face. + +She raised her hands almost in a supplicating manner, and for a moment +he idly noticed the flash and sparkle of a wonderfully brilliant ring +upon her finger. + +“You mean this proposition seriously?” he asked. + +A malevolent light gleamed in the lustrous eyes of Madam Guiscardini, +and a spiteful smile curled round the ruby-red lips. + +“You think I love you so well that I have taken the trouble and run the +risk of secretly traveling all the way hither from London for the sake +of lightly enjoying a passing jest with you?” she sibilated. + +“Accept my offer, and see if it be really meant or not. I know you to +be of a dogged, stubborn nature. I know, to my cost, that once you take +a crotchet into your head, nothing can displace it. I once appealed to +your love--a passion I neither believe in nor comprehend--I wept at +your feet, and you turned a deaf ear to my entreaties. Silence! Hear me! + +“I never cared for you, and now I hate you! I appealed to your +_love_--now I appeal to your interest. Surely--surely--surely you +will not refuse a fortune. Surely your hate of me cannot lead you to +vindictively mar my brilliant prospects. Perhaps it is folly to admit +that a few injurious words from you could turn his highness against me; +but I am frank with you. + +“Of course, I might laugh your accusations to scorn, but the prince +might--well, your words might hurt me, for that man is as proud as +Lucifer, although his absurd infatuation, which he calls love, induces +him to lay all his earthly possessions, all his ancient prejudices, +at the feet of a ‘singing-woman.’ With ten thousand pounds you will +be rich; you will begin a new life, be happy with some meek-spirited, +pretty Griselda, who may fly to fulfil your slightest wish or command.” + +She had spoken so rapidly that, as she paused, her breath came in quick +gasps. For the first time since she had entered on this conversation, +her heart beat violently. + +“You think I would sell my soul for ten thousand pounds,” Leonardo +Gilardoni slowly said--“my soul and yours, my wife? I decline.” + +“You do not mean it! You say so that I may double the price!” exclaimed +the signora. “No. Speak. What sum do you ask to fall in with my wishes?” + +Gilardoni looked fixedly into the luminous eyes so eagerly fastened +upon him, as if he would read the innermost thoughts they so partially +revealed. + +“You know me well enough, you say, to be aware that once I have made +up my mind to what is right, nothing will turn me from it,” he coldly +replied. “I say distinctly that you are my wife, by all the laws of +Heaven and man, and while I live you cannot marry any other. I refuse +to comply with your infamous desire. I have said it. Had I the means, +I would go to South America, to seek your brother, who could prove our +marriage. What have you done with the book you stole?” + +A sudden thought seized Lucia Guiscardini. Paul Desfrayne had surely +discovered her previous marriage, and was about to send Gilardoni in +search of the Padre Josef. If so, she was probably ruined. Her plan +had been to rid herself by bribery of Gilardoni, and then to make a +proposition to Paul Desfrayne, making it a matter of mutual interest to +keep the second marriage a dead secret. + +Only too well she knew that once Gilardoni had said no, it would be +impossible to persuade him to say yes. If these two men--he and his +master--combined against her, adieu to her dazzling hopes. She had +trusted that Gilardoni’s evident poverty would render him a willing +accomplice to her nefarious scheme, and now she was furious at her +failure. + +In the event of finding her husband utterly intractable, she had +designed another and infinitely darker course, which she resolved to +carry into execution. For a few moments she remained silent, ignoring +Gilardoni’s direct question, and then she merely said: + +“Good-by, then! We shall probably never meet again. I defy you! I hope +your spite may not be able to hurt me; but I do not fear you. My offer +was made to save myself annoyance. Say what you can, the worst your +vindictive fancy may invent, your words will be but empty air. Proof +you have none. Go on your preposterous chase if you will. I care not.” + +She held out her hand mockingly. As she expected, Gilardoni refused +to clasp it, and, in affected anger at his repulse, she struck him +lightly, her closed fingers passing across his wrist. Then she turned, +and, before Gilardoni had time either to speak or detain her, she had +gained the road. + +The terrible deed she had contemplated being accomplished beyond +human recall, the miserable woman was seized with a kind of terror +and exhaustion. Having placed herself out of sight, she sat down by a +great tree, creeping under its shelter so as to remain unseen by any +one who might be passing. Daring to the last degree of recklessness in +plotting, she yet lacked the iron nerves that were needed to support +her in her criminal schemes. Faint and exhausted, she stayed here until +some time after nightfall, and then fled toward the station. + +As Captain Desfrayne passed, she was unable to recognize him, his face +and form being shrouded in darkness within the vehicle, and when he had +alighted and pursued her, she had not dared to look back. + +Gilardoni had remained motionless when she left him, immersed in +painful thoughts. + +“Good Heaven!” he said aloud; “and I once loved this woman! It would +not be spite nor hate; but were she to trap any innocent man to his +ruin, it would be my duty to speak.” + +He clasped his hands above his head in a transport of grief, and then, +for the first time, felt a slight pain. He glanced at his left wrist, +and found it smirched with crimson blood. The wound, he supposed, had +been inflicted by the large diamond ring he had noticed on his wife’s +finger. + +Binding his handkerchief about the wrist, he turned to retrace his +steps. He would have regarded that faint scratch very differently had +he known that his life-blood was already imbued with a subtle narcotic +poison emanating from one of the stones in that ring. + +As he entered his master’s rooms he was conscious of a strange +faintness and an unpleasant burning of the tongue. He had found some +difficulty in ascending the staircase, and had scarcely lighted the +lamp, when he crept into the second apartment, and threw himself on a +couch, feeling as if utterly exhausted. + +“I don’t know what is the matter with me,” he muttered, passing his +hand over his forehead. “I have taken nothing that could hurt me. +I suppose it’s a reaction. That was a painful meeting with--with +my wife. May Heaven forgive her all her wickedness toward me, +though--though----Strange, this weakness seems to increase, and my +thoughts are wandering.” + +The faintness grew worse, so did the burning in his mouth and throat. +The unhappy man rose, and endeavored to drink some water, but the +effort to swallow was too painful. + +“May Heaven forgive _me_ all my sins!” he murmured. “I believe I am +dying. Dying!” he wildly repeated, raising himself suddenly, and +looking about distractedly, then glancing down at his hand. “Dying! She +has destroyed me. Oh, Lucia--Lucia--Lucia!” + +Burning tears forced their way as he sank back. By degrees he floated +into a kind of sleep, and then he forgot everything. + +And as he lay dead in the silence of that lonely room, the woman who +had so remorselessly slain him was hastening back to the great city, +there to still further shape out the path that was to conduct her---- + +Whither--whither? + +To the almost regal chambers of her princely lover, or to the condemned +cell of the manslayer? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +FRANK AMBERLEY’S MISSION. + + +The next morning Mr. Amberley went to his office as usual. + +As he passed the door on which appeared the name of Mr. Willis +Joyner--the back room on the first floor--the dapper figure and +pleasant face of that gentleman appeared on the threshold. In spite of +his age and his gray whiskers, Mr. Willis Joyner was preferred by many +moneyed spinsters and richly jointured widows even before the grave, +handsome Mr. Amberley, who never paid any compliments, and apparently +regarded business as business, and never sweetened the sourness and +dryness of the law with the acceptable honey of soft words and smiling +glances. + +“Ah! thought ’twas you, Amberley,” said Mr. Willis. “Thought I knew +your step. Want to see you when you’ve looked over your letters.” + +“All right,” was Mr. Amberley’s very simple rejoinder, as he pursued +his upward course. + +In ten minutes or a quarter of an hour he came back. + +Mr. Willis Joyner wanted to see him about “that affair of Frampton’s,” +Frampton being a wealthy commoner who was going to marry a rich +baron’s sister, and the “affair” being one of very complicated +marriage-settlements. + +Some lively talk from the said Mr. Willis Joyner of the one part, +and some quiet listening from the said Mr. Frank Amberley of the +other part, resulted in the agreement that the younger gentleman +should repair at once to Brompton, to have an interview with somebody +concerned on some knotty and disputed point. + +Frank Amberley went off. About half an hour after his departure, a +youth came into the office with a telegram marked “Immediate.” + +“Is there any answer wanted, do you know?” inquired the melancholy +clerk to whom he delivered it. + +“No, I don’t. I’d better wait and see,” answered the messenger. + +“Mr. Amberley ain’t in. I’ll ask Mr. Willis,” said the clerk. + +Mr. Willis turned it over in his dainty white fingers, and said it must +be left for Mr. Amberley, who might be away for a couple of hours. It +was uncertain when he might be back. + +The telegram was accordingly stuck in the rack, and the bearer went +away. It was from Captain Desfrayne, informing Frank Amberley of the +sudden death of Gilardoni, the valet. + +Unconscious of the tragical revolution which had taken place in Paul +Desfrayne’s affairs, the young lawyer pursued his way, planning to +return as soon as his immediate business should have been disposed of. + +It was not until he was some distance from the office, rattling +westward in a hansom, that he remembered he had left no message in case +Gilardoni should call early in the afternoon. + +It would certainly be desirable to see Madam Guiscardini before fixing +any plan with the Italian valet; but could such a thing be hoped for as +obtaining an interview with this beautiful tigress, and even granting +that she condescended to let herself be spoken with, it was impossible +to hope that she would betray a scrap of evidence against herself. + +After some trouble, Frank Amberley succeeded in concluding his business +with the irascible old gentleman at Blythe Villas, Brompton, to whom he +had been despatched. + +Coming out from the house, he stood for several minutes on the pavement +before he reentered his waiting hansom. He consulted his watch, and +found it was yet early--only half-past twelve. + +“I can but be refused,” he said to himself. “She must be at home at +this hour, I should imagine, and, by the time I reach the place, will +have about dressed, I suppose. We can do nothing until she has had the +chance of speaking, and she might give me a clue as to the place where +her brother may be found.” + +Stepping into the hansom, he said: + +“Porchester Square.” + +On the way he laid out the sketch of one of those imaginary dialogues +which never by any possibility take place. He started by fancying +himself, after some delay, perhaps, admitted to the drawing-room of the +famous prima donna. She might or might not be there. At all events, +he would politely introduce himself by name; and then he went on to +picture the succeeding talk, ending in two ways, one conceiving her +to make fatal admissions against herself, the other supposing her to +contemptuously defy him, and laugh all his crafty advances to scorn. + +The driver of the hansom shot round the angle of the square. But when +he was within a few doors of the house where Madam Guiscardini resided, +he perceived that there was already drawn up in front of the curb +facing the portico another and far more important vehicle than his +own--a splendidly appointed brougham, the gray horses attached to which +were handsomely caparisoned in gleaming silver harness. The graceful +animals stood perfectly still, except when they half-impatiently threw +up their heads, jingling their elegant appointments, or pawed the +ground, as if anxious to start off. + +The cabman drove past the vehicle a few feet, and then drew up, to wait +further orders. + +It instantly struck the young lawyer that this might be Madam +Guiscardini’s brougham, and that probably she was going out. He had +heard that she never attended the theater in the morning when she +was to perform in the evening, so she might not be going to the +opera-house; but, at all events, she was in all likelihood on the point +of taking a drive somewhere. He determined to wait for some moments. + +“Turn the other way--right round--and then stop for a while,” he said +to the cabman. “If I should jump out very suddenly, and go into that +house, do not take any notice, but wait quietly here until I come back.” + +“All right, sir,” said cabby, obeying the first part of his +instructions. + +Frank thus faced the brougham, which he had seen in dashing past, and +could see the street-door, at present closed. + +Had Lucia Guiscardini happened to be in her dining-room, drawing-room, +or bedroom, all of which looked out on the square, she might possibly +have descried the mysterious waiting vehicle standing opposite, or +nearly opposite, to her house, and, seeing the watchful figure with the +dark-bearded, thoughtful face, might by accident have taken an alarm, +and so countermanding her orders for the drive, and denying herself on +the score of a fit of indisposition to any stranger inquiring for her, +have temporarily escaped a dangerous interview. + +But, unfortunately for herself, madam was in her dressing-room, a +dainty apartment behind her bedroom, and only separated from it +by silken and lace curtains. She was occupied in three different +ways--completing her exquisite toilet, scolding and snarling at her +French maid, and cooing over a tangled skein of floss silk, from which +peered forth an infinitesimal black snout and two bright, glittering +brown eyes. + +Dress was a reigning passion with Lucia, and this day she was doubly +absorbed, in spite of the racking state of her mind consequent upon the +daring criminal step she had taken the night before. + +Madam was going first to the opera-house, to excuse herself to the +manager, armed with a medical certificate to the effect that she was +incapable of singing that evening, from a painful attack of hoarseness. +This excuse was in reality not ill-founded, for she had taken a slight +chill in her hurried journey the previous night. + +She felt it would be utterly impossible to sing that evening. As it +was, her hands were trembling from nervous excitement; the faintest +sound, if unexpected, made her start with trepidation; her eyes and +cheeks were aflame. Had it not been that she was remarkably abstemious, +Finette would have suspected madam to be suffering from the effects of +an overdose of champagne. + +The second place to which she was bound was a garden-party, where she +had smilingly promised her princely adorer she would show herself for +at least a few minutes. + +“If I go on at this rate,” the signora thought at last, “I shall be +ill. Come what may, I must brace up my nerves, and try to compose +myself. It would be ruin to my hopes if I fell ill just now.” + +She shuddered as she fancied she might be seized with fever, and lose +her wits, perhaps, and betray in her wanderings the crime of which she +had been guilty within these past twenty-four hours. + +At length she was arrayed, all save the right-hand glove; but she +could not stay to put that on now, lest she should be too late at the +opera-house to enable the manager to make other arrangements for the +night. The little white hands were loaded with blazing jewels, that +sparkled and flashed in the light; but she no longer wore the fatal +diamond ring that had scratched Gilardoni, the valet, on the wrist. + +As she swept down the richly carpeted stairs, her movements signalized +by the soft frou-frou of her Parisian garments, she meditated chiefly +on the impending storm between herself and the director. She floated +down to the door, followed by Finette, who was carrying the tiny bundle +of floss silk, the denomination of which appeared to be Bébé. + +The door was held open by a lackey, in a plain but exceedingly elegant +livery. Madam hated all the male servants in her own and other people’s +houses, for they often reminded her of the position to which had sunk +the man whose legal wife she was. + +But there was nothing in the sweetly modulated accents, and in the +absent, preoccupied eyes of the beautiful mistress of the house to +betray any feeling either way toward the domestic as she said: + +“I shall be home about six. Dinner at seven.” + +The servant bowed, though a lightninglike glance at Finette behind the +signora’s back indicated surprise, for if madam dined at seven, she +evidently did not mean to go to the opera, at all events as a performer. + +Madam put out one tiny foot to reach her brougham, but drew back with +a deep breath that narrowly escaped being a cry of alarm. + +Standing just within the portico was a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, a +stranger to her, hat in hand, waiting to address her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +THE INLAID CABINET. + + +The sight of any and every stranger who spoke to or even looked at +Lucia must henceforth inevitably cause her a thrill of fear. + +She had never seen this handsome young man with the dark, grave, +penetrating eyes before, to her knowledge; yet he looked at her as if +he would read her very soul. + +Frank, the instant the door opened, had bounded from his cab, and was +waiting for the signora to issue forth. He bowed profoundly. + +“Madam Guiscardini, I believe?” he said. + +He had recognized her at the first glance, having frequently seen her +at the opera, both in London and in Paris, and being furthermore made +familiar with her strikingly marked features and imperial figure by the +innumerable photographs issued by London and Parisian firms. + +It was impossible for madam to deny her own identity. Frank noticed +that she grew pale--perceptibly so, and that the jeweled fingers of her +ungloved hand twitched nervously. + +“My name is Guiscardini,” she replied, after a slight hesitation, and +speaking in frigid accents. + +“May I beg the favor of a few moments’ private conversation with you, +madam?” asked Frank Amberley. “My business is of the utmost importance, +or I should not delay you just as you are going out.” + +“Certainly not,” angrily replied the cantatrice, her lips trembling +from mingled rage and fear. She imagined that perhaps this gentlemanly +fellow, with the handsome face and urbane manners, might be a detective +in disguise. “It is impossible, my time is not my own, and I cannot +grant you even five minutes.” + +She glanced at the jeweled watch that hung at her waist amid a +coruscation of enameled lockets and miscellaneous toys and trinkets. + +“I am sorry to be so pressing, madam, but if you will give me ten +minutes--I promise to go by the dial of your own watch--I will not +trespass longer.” + +He knew well that the business he came on could not be disposed of in +that time, but relied on the hope that she would, if persuaded to enter +on it, voluntarily extend the time. + +“Who are you, and what do you want?” demanded Madam Guiscardini +sharply, looking keenly at him. + +“My name, madam, is Amberley--I have the honor to belong to the firm of +Messrs. Salmon, Joyner & Joyner, who are solicitors.” + +“What do you want? I will not hear you, sir! Let me pass, sir. You are +rude and unmannerly not to take a reasonable refusal. Let me pass, sir, +I say--I insist!” + +She tried to push by him, in order to get to her brougham, the door of +which was held open by the powdered lackey who had been sitting beside +the coachman. + +Frank Amberley laid a firm, detaining grip on her wrist as she passed +by. + +“Madam Guiscardini,” he whispered in her ear, “you would consult +your own interest in consenting to hear me. I come from Captain Paul +Desfrayne, and I wish to ask you a few questions about Leonardo +Gilardoni.” + +This time the signora could not restrain the scream that rose to her +lips. She stared wildly about her, and then at the enemy who had so +suddenly sprung up before her. + +The idea that he was a detective became almost a certainty. He had +come to tax her with her double crime. She must be cool and quiet, she +thought the next moment, and strive not to betray herself. + +Whatever he had to say, however, must not be said before these prying, +gossiping menials. With surprising quickness, she rallied her forces, +resisted the inclination to swoon, and without answering her strange +visitor, turned back to Finette. + +“Put on your bonnet, girl, quick as lightning, and go to the +opera-house,” she said to her maid. “Tell Mr. Mervyn that I was on my +way to him, but was detained at the last moment, and that I shall not +be able to sing to-night. Take this medical certificate with you.” + +Finette took the paper, and flew up-stairs, glad of the chance of a +pleasant drive, yet vexed that she could not stay to find out the +mystery that was going on. + +Madam Guiscardini turned to Frank Amberley. + +“Follow me,” she said, in harsh accents. + +She glided up to the drawing-room, feeling at every step as if her +knees must yield under her. The young lawyer silently followed her, +wondering at the success which had attended his effort to obtain an +interview with her. + +“Now, sir, may I ask the nature of your business with me?” madam said, +when she had closed the door, across which she pulled the silken +portière to deaden the sounds from within, for she distrusted all her +servants. She advanced to the windows, as the point farthest away from +the reach of eavesdroppers, but neither seated herself nor asked her +visitor to sit down. + +“You may imagine that I have nothing very agreeable to say, judging by +the quarter from which I come,” said Frank Amberley. + +“You say you come from Captain Desfrayne? What business can you have to +transact between Captain Desfrayne and myself?” asked the signora, with +an affectation of surprise and curiosity. + +“You do not mention the other name.” + +“What other name?” + +“The name of Leonardo Gilardoni--of your husband, madam.” + +The wretched woman’s hand closed on the slender inlaid back of a chair +for support. Every vestige of color faded from her face, and her eyes +looked haggard for a moment. + +“I don’t know whom you mean,” she whispered, rather than said. + +“That is a falsehood, madam.” + +“Why should you say that? By what right or license do you come within +my house to harass--to torture me?” + +Frank Amberley was almost amazed by the singular effect his few +preparatory words seemed to have, and could not reasonably account +for it. This woman’s demeanor was entirely different from what Paul +Desfrayne had yesterday prognosticated it would be. Why should she +evidence this fear--this shrinking? He felt there must be some further +mystery to solve, some new secret to unravel. Had he known the contents +of the telegram then waiting for him in Alderman’s Lane, he would have +had a clue. As it was, he was mystified. + +Had Lucia Guiscardini, on the other hand, known the simple nature of +his errand, she would have entirely controlled herself. But she already +in fancy could imagine his arresting grip on her shoulder, and the odd +query rose in her mind: “Will he handcuff me?” + +“By what right do I come?” Frank Amberley slowly repeated, watching +every change and variation in her agitated face. “By the right of +justice.” + +“Justice? I do not understand you.” + +“Oh! yes, you do. I may as well inform you that Captain Desfrayne, +the man whom you so basely, so ungratefully entrapped into an illegal +marriage--the man whose life you have blighted, whose happiness you +have ruined----” + +“Well? Be brief, I beg of you, for, as I told you at first, my time is +limited, and most precious,” interrupted Madam Guiscardini. + +This circumlocution, however, gave her a ray of hope that her first +fear was groundless. + +“Captain Desfrayne has told me the whole miserable story of infamous +deception.” + +“What story?” + +“Come, madam, your affectation of ignorance is useless, and only a +waste of time. You cannot deny that while you hold Captain Desfrayne in +legal bondage, you are in reality the wife, by a prior marriage, of a +man who is in his service--one Leonardo Gilardoni.” + +The words “_you are_” were like the sound of a trumpet to the unhappy +woman. It was palpable that this man did not yet know of Gilardoni’s +death. The strain upon her nerves had been so fearful that she gave way +the instant the relaxation came. She fell back on the chair by which +she stood, in violent hysterics. + +Amazed by such apparently singular behavior, Frank Amberley stood by, +partly alarmed, partly resolved not to summon assistance if he could +help it, for he was determined to follow up the advantage he seemed to +have gained. + +Presently Lucia Guiscardini recovered her self-command. She was glad +none of the servants had been called, though she would have welcomed +the interruption their presence would have caused. + +“You are doubtless surprised, sir, that I should be thus overcome,” she +said. “But I am very unwell. I was on my way to the theater to tell +the director I could not appear, in consequence of sudden illness. My +nerves are overstrained. The subject of my marriage with the gentleman +you name is a distressing one to me, and one upon which I cannot enter +without painful emotion. Of the other person about whom you spoke +I know nothing. I have never heard his name. The person I have the +misfortune to call husband has evidently told you a false story. He has +treated me with meanness and cruelty, but I have been generous enough +not to betray him. Why does he send you to me?” + +“Because he thought you might listen to me where you would only laugh +in his face.” + +“What does he want of me? Let him come himself. At this moment, I wish +to see him. I have something of paramount importance to tell him.” + +“You may treat me as his nearest friend and confidant in this matter,” +said the young man quietly. “What you would say to him, you can say to +me.” + +“What guarantee have I that you really come from him?” demanded the +signora. + +“Why should I raise a fiction of such a kind? What good could I do +myself or others by deceiving you?” + +“I neither know nor care. With him I will treat--with no other.” + +“I will tell him so. But you had better hear what I have to say on +the part of Captain Desfrayne. Unfortunately, we cannot prove your +marriage with this Gilardoni. Pray, madam, may I ask you one question?” + +“Speak.” + +“How is it that if, as you declare, you have never until this day heard +of Leonardo Gilardoni, his name causes you to shudder violently?” + +“That is your fancy, sir. I have a slight attack of ague, from which I +shiver every now and then,” replied Madam Guiscardini icily. + +“I do not believe you, Madam Guiscardini; but, as I was saying, we +cannot prove your first marriage, because you have stolen the original +register, and therefore----” + +The young woman started from her seat in a kind of frenzy. A moment’s +reflection, however, caused her to sink back. + +“Mr. Amberley,” she said, very calmly, looking him straight in the face +with an expression of candor on her own lovely visage, “every one has, +I believe, a motive for what they do. You say you come hither to-day in +the name of justice. What your object may further be I do not know, as +you have not as yet deigned to enlighten me upon the precise nature of +the demand you apparently intend making upon me. I am convinced that +you, and it may be Captain Desfrayne, are deceived by the concocted +story of a man who desires to extort money. I am supposed to be rich--I +do not deny that I have a great deal of money: I am therefore regarded +as a person to be preyed upon. + +“Captain Desfrayne may be actuated by mean and cruel objects in +pursuing me, whom he has always treated in so abominable a manner--his +jealousy, his ill conduct, obliged me unwillingly to leave him, for I +desired to do my duty as a wife, though I did not love him. You and +he have, you say, listened to a story told by some man who asserts +that--that--that I was--that I was married to him. Plainly, why do you +and Captain Desfrayne lend yourselves to this infamous conspiracy? I do +not intend to tamely submit to robbery and insult, I can assure you. +Who is this man?” + +“He is Captain Desfrayne’s valet,” said Frank Amberley, who had not +attempted even once to interrupt the long harangue with which he had +been favored. + +“As I should have imagined,” said Madam Guiscardini, withering scorn +in her look and voice, a disdainful smile on her lips. “This man, whom +the world supposes to be a gentleman, because he wears the uniform of +an officer in the service of the King of England, puts his servant +forward to insult and harass me--will, perhaps, urge him to attack me +for money. You come to ask me--what?” + +Frank Amberley, who had remained standing from the moment he entered +the room until now, slightly stooped, and, leaning forward, gazed +intently into the signora’s great, bold black eyes. + +For some instants she bore this searching look; then her guilty eyes +sank, while the color flowed back to her pale face. Her hands clenched +with suppressed fury, and it was with difficulty she refrained from +giving way to a burst of rage. But she feared she might betray herself +by a word inadvertently spoken, and so remained silent. + +“You know, Madam Guiscardini, that what I have asserted is perfectly +true,” said the young man sternly. “You, the wife of the Italian, +Leonardo Gilardoni, trapped my client into a marriage with you, +believing yourself safe because you had abstracted the evidence of your +first marriage. That evidence you did not dare to destroy--it still +exists.” + +The signora raised her eyes, and looked at him in affright. + +“What evidence?” she asked. + +“The written register in the book belonging to the chapel in which your +brother married you to Gilardoni.” + +“This is infamous. What do you hope by bullying me in this manner?” +exclaimed Madam Guiscardini. + +“You asked what I wanted--why I had come. I will tell you: Before we +seek for your brother, the priest--the Padre Josef--I wish to know what +you have done with the registry-book?” + +His keenly practised eye caught a swift glance at hers, gleaming like +an instantaneous flash. + +With a strange misgiving that she was entirely betrayed--that possibly +Finette or some other servant had watched her, unseen, and reported +her secret doings--she glanced for a second at a tall cabinet standing +in a corner of the room, near the pianoforte--a curious old piece of +eighteenth-century furniture, inlaid with paintings on enamel. + +Frank Amberley lowered his gaze, and appeared simply to wait for an +answer. + +“They have, then, sent you upon this ridiculous errand?” said the +signora. “It is a fool’s message, undertaken by a simpleton.” + +“You say this story has been hatched up by designing persons, with a +view to extort money----” + +“Or by a pitiful coward who desires to harass and torment me,” +interrupted the young woman. + +“Aye. As you will. I asked you where this book is concealed. I know +you have not destroyed it. You had doubtless your own motives for +preserving such a damning piece of evidence against yourself----” + +“I foresee that I shall be obliged to dismiss you from the house, sir,” +again interrupted Madam Guiscardini, rising, concentrated fury blazing +in her eyes. “You shall not continue to annoy and insult me under my +own roof.” + +“Pardon me, madam. I do not wish to be other than courteous in +conducting this unpleasant affair. My own interest in it is less than +nothing. Did I consult my own wishes, I should not lift a finger to +coerce you. Bear with me for a few moments longer. I said, I asked you +where this registry-book is hidden away. The question was put merely to +try you.” + +“Oh, indeed! Monsieur grows more and more incomprehensible. May I hope +that this preposterous little farce is nearly played out?” + +“Very nearly, madam. The terrible drama that has been performed is +also, I believe, almost at an end. I _know_ where that parchment-bound +volume is.” + +“Indeed! Monsieur is, then, a magician--a juggler? This begins to be +amusing. I should like to see this wonderful tome. But I should hope +that your friends and clients and coconspirators have not been so +daring as to forge written evidence against me? That would be too +terrible, though I do not fear the worst they can do.” + +“The volume is near at hand,” pursued Frank, his eyes never leaving her +face for a second. As yet, every shot had told with fatal effect. + +“Near at hand,” repeated the unhappy young woman mechanically. She felt +certain now that she had been betrayed, and her suspicions fell on +Finette, the French maid, whom she had always hated and mistrusted. + +“Close at hand,” the lawyer said slowly, approaching a step toward her. +“It lies in this house.” + +“Do you mean to say that they have dared to place their forged papers +within my own dwelling?” demanded Lucia Guiscardini, twisting and +twining her fingers in and out of one another. + +But she only spoke thus to delay the last fatal moment. Not knowing +that he was proceeding chiefly upon guesswork, guided by that one swift +gleam from her own eyes, she made sure he had certain information. + +Finette had seen her open the cabinet, she thought, and had seen her +examine the suspicious-looking volume. One hope remained: the girl +might not know the secret of the spring opening the inner compartment +where the book lay crouching amid laces and filmy handkerchiefs, placed +there to deceive any casual eye that might happen to light upon the +nook so cunningly devised. + +“You cannot deny that the book is in this house--that you carry it +about with you--that----” + +“What?” + +“That it is in this very room.” + +“What more, sir? My patience, I warn you, is well-nigh exhausted. +Beware, sir--beware! My temper is not of the most angelic mold, and I +am very weary of this folly.” + +“Madam Guiscardini, I ask you plainly, is not that stolen book in +yonder cabinet?” demanded the young lawyer. + +It was his last throw, and he watched the result with a keen and eager +gaze. + +The signora made one step, with an affrighted look, as if to take +flight. Then she paused, and drew two or three deep, sobbing breaths, +like some wild animal pressed very close by the hunters. + +“You look like a gentleman,” she cried, after making some ineffectual +efforts to speak; “and you behave like a footpad. I know nothing +of the book you rave about. I have never heard of the man whose +name you have brought forward--this person in the employ of Captain +Desfrayne--I--I----” + +“You have not answered my question. Can you distinctly say the book is +_not_ in that cabinet? You dare not say so.” + +“If a denial will satisfy you, I can safely say no book of any kind is +within that cabinet,” said madam. “Our interview is at an end, and I +decline to receive you again on any pretense whatever.” + +“You dare not open that cabinet, and let me see for myself if what you +say is true,” said Frank Amberley. + +“You do not believe me, then?” + +“Candidly, I do not. I say the book is there.” + +“I--I refuse to gratify your curiosity----” + +“I thought you would. Now, the question is, what is to be done? For I +_know_ the book is there, yet if I go to obtain a search-warrant, you +will destroy it before I am fairly out of the house.” + +“You shall not have it to say that I shrank from letting you see how +preposterous your guess is,” said madam, crossing the room to the +cabinet. + +With a trembling finger, she pressed the spring that unlocked the +doors, and threw the cabinet open. + +A range of elaborately carved and gilded drawers appeared--a set on the +right and a set on the left. + +“You are at liberty to open these drawers, sir. As I have suffered your +audacity and presumption so far, I may as well let you run on in your +silly insolence to the end.” + +Frank Amberley made no reply. He availed himself of the permission to +look into the drawers, which he opened mechanically, pushing them back +without really seeing their contents. + +As he drew them out one after another, Madam Guiscardini standing by +with a fast-beating heart, he was trying to recall some dim, misty +recollection of a cabinet very similar to this, which he had seen at an +old country house in Provençal during the days of his childhood. + +He had a vague conception that about the middle of the double row +of drawers there was a spring which, properly moved, revealed the +existence of a secret hiding-place. The spring was a duplex one, but +how it was touched he could not remember. + +It would be useless to leave the signora now, with the idea of getting +a proper warrant to search the cabinet, for even if the secret were to +be solved, or the cabinet taken to pieces, she would burn the volume +the moment she found herself alone. + +Had he listened to the promptings of the Evil One, he would have made +excuses to himself, and left Lucia Guiscardini to her own devices, with +liberty to destroy the evidence that would release Paul Desfrayne, but +with sublime self-denial, he resolved to press on to the last. + +“Are you satisfied, sir?” asked Madam Guiscardini sneeringly, as she +noticed his perplexed look on closing the last drawer. + +“Very nearly so,” he replied, moving his fingers nervously over the +fine filigree work and gilded foliage down the sides of the cabinet. + +She dreaded that he would come upon the spring, and saw plainly that he +was in search of it. With a rough hand she pushed him away, crying: + +“Enough, sir--enough! Allow me to close this cabinet, for it contains +numberless articles of value, which----” + +But as she pushed Frank Amberley away, his hands touched the duplex +spring, and what appeared to be two drawers slowly folded back, sliding +in thin layers, one over another, while a fresh drawer was propelled +forward in place of the two which disappeared. + +A scream from Lucia Guiscardini told the lawyer that he had discovered +the object for which he sought. She caught at the filigree handle--it +remained immovable. + +“Leave the house, sir! I will call my servants to fling you into the +street!” screamed Madam Guiscardini, almost beside herself. + +The book once found, it would not only ruin her hopes with the prince, +but would serve as terrible evidence against her if charged with the +murder of the man Gilardoni. + +She had intended, Gilardoni agreeing to leave Europe, to make a bargain +with Paul Desfrayne, by confessing to him that she had been already +married at the time of her union with him, on condition that he took an +oath never to betray her affairs to human ear, and never to seek her in +any way whatever. + +“If you do not quit my house,” she exclaimed, trying to stand between +Frank Amberley and the fatal drawer, “I will send for a policeman, +and give you into custody on the charge of attempting to rifle these +drawers.” + +The young man did not answer. There was no longer any doubt that the +precious volume lay within a few inches of his hand. The confused +memory of the secret spring grew more hazy--he was almost in despair. +It seemed hard to be baffled at the moment when victory smiled. Quick +as thought, he ran across to the fireplace, and caught up the bright +steel poker lying in the fender. + +Before Lucia Guiscardini really knew what he meant to do, he had darted +back, and with one adroit blow smashed in the front of the drawer. + +The laces and handkerchiefs were folded about the faded, ink-stained +volume, but Frank dragged them out swift as lightning, and scattered +them at his feet. The book then lay revealed, and he snatched at it. + +Had the poisoned ring still been on Lucia Guiscardini’s finger, Frank +Amberley’s life would not have been worth a second’s purchase. As it +was, she for a moment, in her mad rage, measured the possibility of +matching her strength against his. But the next, the utter futility of +doing anything by force pressed upon her as she glared upon the tall, +slender, deep-chested, muscular figure before her. + +With a low, moaning growl, like that of a tigress deprived of her +young, she glided half-blindly under the silken archway, into the back +room, and groped there with an uncertain hand. + +Frank took advantage of this moment to rush to the window nearest. It +was partially raised, and he flung it wide open. + +The cab was still in waiting, directly opposite, on the very spot where +poor Gilardoni had stood scarce more than a week since. The driver was +sitting tranquilly on the step of his vehicle, smoking a pipe. Frank +threw the book so adroitly that it fell at the man’s feet, and called +to him. The fellow caught up the dingy volume, and was under the window +in a second. Frank dropped a sovereign in his hand, and said, in a +clear, distinct tone: + +“Drive with that book to eighty-six, Alderman’s Lane, and ask for +Mr. Joyner--give it to him; then wait, and if I am not back there in +a couple of hours, bring him here. Give that book to no other human +being, and tell no one else.” + +The man touched his hat, and ran to his cab. + +“This ’ere _is_ the very most rummiest start _I_ ever come near,” he +said to himself, as he rattled off. “I wonder whatever’s up?” + +This scene passed in a moment. As the man was mounting his box, Lucia +entered, with the same creeping, tottering, dragging step. In her hand +was a tiny, silver-mounted revolver. Her brain had almost given way, +and death, disgrace, misery seemed to point at her with gibbering, +skeleton fingers. Her one dominant thought was that she must recover +that fatal volume at all hazards. She advanced toward Frank Amberley +with the aspect of a beautiful beast of prey. + +His hands were empty; she glared about to see what he had done with his +prize. + +“Where is it?” she hoarsely demanded, speaking as if her throat were +dry. + +“In a place of safety.” + +“Where is it, I say? What have you done with it?” + +She suddenly noticed the open window, and ran to it. Then the truth +flashed upon her. + +“You have ruined me!” she screamed, rushing toward the young lawyer. +“I have nothing but disgrace and despair to look forward to. But if I +suffer, it matters not if it be for little or much, and I will have +vengeance!” + +The click of the lock of her pistol warned Frank of his imminent +danger. He sprang upon her, and tried to disarm her. But her grip was +tight, and her strength more than he had counted on, and a short, +desperate struggle for life ensued. + +As he succeeded in snatching the pistol, it went off. The report +brought the servants rushing to the room. They found their mistress on +her knees, her hair floating wildly about her, her face ashy white, her +arms entwined about her visitor, who stood with the pistol in his hand, +trying to disengage himself. + +“Seize him--seize him--he will kill me!” exclaimed Madam Guiscardini. +“He has robbed me, and would murder me!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +DEFIANCE, NOT DEFENSE. + + +As Madam Guiscardini’s servants stood gaping in amazement and affright +at the scene before them, Frank Amberley felt he had need to exercise +all the coolness and address left him. He had no desire, nor did he +believe that the mistress of the house in her more sober moments could +wish, that the police should be called in as assistants. + +“Stand back!” he thundered, in authoritative tones to the scared +domestics, at the same time leveling the pistol at them. “Heaven forbid +that I should take the life of any one here, but I will shoot the first +who dares to lay a finger on me!” + +The women squeaked, the men huddled back on one another. None cared to +risk the safety of limbs in the service of a mistress for whom not one +in the house cared a doit. + +“Madam Guiscardini knows me,” the young lawyer continued. “She knows +where to find me, if I am wanted. She has told you a falsehood. Let me +go. Stand back, all of you.” + +Her first burst of frenzied passion exhausted, Lucia Guiscardini +rapidly reviewed her position. A sullen despair succeeded her fury. +Certainly, it would not be to her interest that the police should +be called. This desperate man would probably raise a counter-charge +against her, and there would be an investigation. As he was a friend +of Paul Desfrayne’s, he must inevitably within a few hours learn the +damning fact of the death of the man Gilardoni. + +“They will set people to work,” she said to herself; “and they will +find out that I was with him yesterday. Not the cleverest chemist on +earth will be able to trace the poison, but they may trap me, for all +that.” + +This idea raced through her brain like lightning, so that she seemed +only to have time to unlink her arms from about Frank Amberley, place +her hands to her forehead as if in horror, and then fall back in an +admirably simulated swoon. + +“Stand aside, and let me pass,” again exclaimed Frank Amberley, finding +himself thus released. + +“Seize him! Don’t let him go!” faintly cried one or two in the rear of +the group in the doorway. + +“Attend to your mistress, and leave my way free,” cried Frank Amberley, +still holding the deadly weapon leveled menacingly. He was as ignorant +as any one there whether the second chamber was loaded or not, but that +signified little, as he had not the most remote intention of hurting as +much as a fly. + +With a quick, threatening step and determined air, he strode toward the +door. + +Some of the domestics fled precipitately up-stairs, others crawled back +by another door leading into the two drawing-rooms. A whispered buzz +ran round, but no one raised a hand to stay the supposed assailant of +the mistress of the house. + +Pistol in hand, he walked between the two startled groups, steadily, +with perfect sang-froid. At the top of the stairs he turned, and +went down step by step, backward, lest he should be surprised and +overpowered. No one stirred, however, though some of the women peered +over the balustrade. One of the housemaids ran and raised Madam +Guiscardini, who still remained in her convenient swoon, while the +other flew to get some water from a side table. + +Arrived in the hall, Frank Amberley opened the door, laid the pistol on +the hall table, and went out. + +“Thank Heaven, so far!” he exclaimed, aloud, as he found himself at +liberty in the open air. + +He marveled how they had let him depart, and expected to see them +rushing after him, hallooing at the top of their voices. + +A few rapid strides brought him to the corner. He had it in his heart +to take to his heels, but did not yield to the temptation. His pulses +were throbbing painfully, and he knew that much was yet to come, but he +contrived to maintain his composure. + +With joy he saw a slowly crawling hansom coming toward him. The driver +hailed him, and he threw himself into the vehicle with a sense of +relief indescribable. + +“Alderman’s Lane, city,” he cried. + +It seemed scarcely credible that he should have succeeded in so readily +discovering the inestimable treasure which had seemed utterly beyond +reach. + +On reaching his destination, the young lawyer ran lightly up the steps, +and passed into the office. As it happened, Mr. Willis Joyner was +there, reading a note which had just come for him. He looked up, and +cried out as if in surprise: + +“Hello, Amberley, is that you? What have you been up to--practising a +little mild burglary, eh?” + +“A cabman gave you an Italian register just now, did he not?” anxiously +inquired Frank. + +“He did. I put it in my safe.” + +Arrived in the chamber devoted to the use of the cheerful and +urbane Mr. Willis Joyner, Frank seized on the volume the instant +it was produced from the ponderous iron safe. In a very short +investigation--for he was an accomplished master of the Italian +language--he lighted on the register which was to set Paul Desfrayne at +liberty. + +“By the way,” Mr. Willis remarked, “a telegram arrived for you directly +after you left this morning. I had forgotten.” + +“A telegram? Did an Italian call for me?” + +“Not that I know of.” + +Frank Amberley tore open the envelope of the telegram. + +“Great heavens!” he ejaculated, when he had read the few terrible lines +of the despatch. + +They ran thus: + + “On my return last night, I found Leonardo Gilardoni lying dead in my + rooms. I fear he has met with foul play. On my way, I believe I saw + Madam G. walking at a rapid pace toward the station. I pursued; but + when I reached the station, I found the last train had just started + for London. I cannot help associating the fact of her presence here + with the death of my poor servant. Pray Heaven I may be in error in + thinking so! Inquest this afternoon.” + +Agitated by the events of the morning, Frank Amberley was inexpressibly +shocked by this fatal intelligence. Dropping the paper from his +trembling fingers, he sank into a chair, as if unable to speak. + +Mr. Willis Joyner hastily poured out some wine, which he offered to +Frank, and stood by with the tender sympathy of some gentle-hearted +woman. + +Every one in the place loved Frank Amberley, and none probably more +than the gay, superficially selfish Willis Joyner. He saw that some +very unusual circumstances had upset the general tranquillity of the +young man; and, though he could not form the most distant guess as to +the nature of the events which had occurred, he felt grieved. + +In a few minutes, Frank Amberley recovered his self-possession, and +then he gave Mr. Willis Joyner a brief, rapid outline of the strange +story, translating the register, and showing him the telegram. + +The register was transferred to the iron safe in Frank Amberley’s room, +and he at once wrote a full account of the finding of the prize, which +he sent off to Paul Desfrayne by telegraph. He did not allude to Paul’s +mention of encountering Lucia Guiscardini on the road to the station, +for he felt it would not be safe to do so, but briefly said how shocked +he had been by the intelligence that poor Gilardoni was dead. + +Lucia Guiscardini made no sign. She had played a desperate game, and +the numbers had turned up against her. Like most women who, innocent +or guilty, find themselves in difficulties, her chief idea was to seek +safety in flight. She dared not face Paul Desfrayne, for she could +expect no mercy at his hands. Bitterly did she curse the folly, the +cowardice, that had hindered her from destroying the evidence of her +marriage with Gilardoni. Deeply now did she deplore having run the +terrible risk of killing her real husband. + +On the departure of Frank Amberley, she had sullenly cleared the room +of her attendants, and then sat down to think--or to try if it were +possible to collect her scattered wits. + +Disgrace, death, were before her. But which way to turn?--whither fly? +The idea of destroying herself occurred to her disordered brain, but +then she thought _that_ resource would do when all else failed. Money +she had in plenty. Why should she give up this fair and alluring earth, +if safety could be purchased? + +“Even if they fix this marriage on me,” she reflected, “and thus +ruin my hopes of becoming a wealthy princess, they may not be able +to discover that I had aught to do with the death of Gilardoni. How +could they? Even if they find out I was in the neighborhood, who is to +prove that, granting he did not die a natural death, he did not kill +himself? The excitement of a painful interview might even bring on +heart-disease. Twenty different reasons might explain and reconcile the +facts of my being there with my perfect innocence of any complicity in +his tragical fate. Shall I defy them all, and remain, or fly?” + +She paced to and fro distractedly. + +“I will remain here,” she at last defiantly decided. “If they accuse me +of stealing the book, I will boldly declare that those three men have +entered into a plot for extorting money from me--that _he_, Gilardoni, +was the one who took it away, and that his lawyer pretended to find it +here. No one saw him take it, though he threw it out of the window. +I will swear he brought it hither, and offered to sell it to me; and +tried to bully me with a threat of exposure as being the wife of that +low-born peasant. I will risk staying. Let them do their worst--I think +I can defy them. His highness will hasten to see me to-night, when he +finds I am not at the opera: no doubt he will urge me, as he has so +often done, to marry him, and I shall yield to his entreaties. I will +no longer keep up my pretense of coyness and reluctance, but will use +my influence over him to hurry on the marriage. Once his consort I am +safe.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +FREE AT LAST. + + +Evil fate, which so often favors those who wish to follow the path +leading to destruction, smiled on Lucia Guiscardini now as of yore. + +The inquest was held on her ill-fated husband about the hour when Frank +Amberley discovered the record of that most miserable union that had +caused his death. The inquiry was necessarily adjourned, however, to +enable the medical men to examine the body more particularly. + +The emotion of Paul Desfrayne on reading the telegraphic account sent +by the friend who had so heroically sacrificed his own feelings to a +stern sense of duty may be in same measure imagined. To his overtaxed +brain, the events of these last few days began to assume the aspect of +a dream. + +Free! Quit of the consequences of those few months of infatuated folly! + +Oh! it could hardly be. No. Presently he must wake, and find it but a +tantalizing vision of the night, as he had awakened many times before, +thinking he had regained or had never lost his liberty. + +Only too well he knew he had never loved that remorseless woman, who +would have sacrificed him for her own worldly gain, who had slain his +happiness under the influence of her mistaken conception of his wealth +and position. + +He wrote back a most earnest letter to Frank Amberley. But little did +he imagine how vast was the debt of gratitude due to that noble soul. +The moment the verdict was pronounced as to the cause of Leonardo +Gilardoni’s death, he would hurry to London, he told the young lawyer. +At present it would be impossible for him to be absent. He did not +repeat the suspicions he had touched on in the telegram forwarded by +him in the morning, for that would be but to repeat an accusation he +could not in any way sustain. + +The next morning he set about making cautious inquiries, in order to +find out, if possible, whether any human being had seen the figure that +had passed him like an apparition on the way to the station. But vainly. + +No one had seen this woman. The porter at the railway-station whom +Captain Desfrayne had missed, remembered a woman coming hastily in +to catch the last train; but she, he declared, had worn a pale-green +dress, a black lace shawl, and had a snow-white Shetland fall over +her bonnet, concealing her face effectually as well. In effect, Lucia +Guiscardini had made a rapid change in her toilet almost as she entered +the station, by looping up her black skirt, changing her black cloak +for a lace shawl folded up in the small black leather bag she carried, +and changing her black fall for a white one. The black cloak, bought +expressly for this expedition, she had hurriedly folded up, and, +darting for a moment into the ladies’ room, dropped it on the couch, +making it look as if some one had forgotten it. + +The old woman at whose cottage Madam Guiscardini had appointed to meet +Leonardo Gilardoni was away, gone to see a granddaughter, who lay dying +some ten miles off. Thus Paul Desfrayne did not find her, nor did he +know of her existence. The boy had departed with her. + +No one could throw the slightest ray of light on the history of those +hours of apparent solitude which had been spent by the unhappy valet +from the departure until the return of his master on that last day of +his life. No one had seen him leave the barracks during any part of the +day--none had seen him return. + +It had happened that the boy charged with Madam Guiscardini’s message +had not needed to ask for him, because Gilardoni was walking about the +yard, and to him the lad had first spoken. + +The analyzing doctors found nothing to justify any suspicion of the +existence of poison. Such signs as were apparent resembled those of +apoplexy so closely that the most accurate judges might easily have +been deceived. They gave in a certificate to the effect that the cause +of death was apoplexy. + +It would have been worse than useless to accuse Lucia Guiscardini. Paul +Desfrayne began to persuade himself that he must have been deluded by +his own excited imagination when he fancied he saw her on that lonely, +darksome road. + +At the end of a few days he was able to run up to London. His first +visit was to Frank Amberley. + +The lawyer showed him the ink-stained, vellum-covered book containing +the brief register that would restore some light and happiness to Paul +Desfrayne’s life. Paul’s heart was overflowing with gratitude to the +friend who had regained for him the liberty that seemed gone forever. + +Fortune was resolved on favoring him now, however. On leaving +Alderman’s Lane, he went to the club of which he was a member. + +Immersed in thought, the young man was walking at a rapid pace, when a +faint, musical exclamation, and what sounded much like his own name, +caused him to awake from his abstraction, and look up. + +His eyes met those of Lois Turquand, fixed upon him with a strange, +indefinable expression that made his heart beat, while a vivid blush +overspread that beautiful face upon which he had so often meditated, to +the risk of his own peace, since he had first beheld it. + +Miss Turquand was sitting in an open carriage with Blanche Dormer in +front of a large drapery establishment. They were waiting for Lady +Quaintree, who had alighted with the view of matching some silk. + +It had been Miss Dormer who cried out Captain Desfrayne’s name. The +girls had hoped he might not have heard; but his looks showed that he +had done so. He lifted his hat, and came to the side of the carriage to +speak to the young ladies. + +The gloomy, care-worn expression had already begun to melt from his +face, and, in a manner, he was no longer the self-restrained, cold +personage he had been since the days his misfortune had gathered upon +him. + +Before she could weigh the propriety of doing so, Lois had allowed her +fingers to glide into his: and it was not until she felt a tender +pressure, scarcely meant by Paul, that she thought she should have +withheld her hand. + +“He is cruel and deceitful,” she said to herself, turning away her head +to avoid the glance which at once thrilled and distressed her. + +Some ordinary civilities and usual courtesies passed. A flower-girl +came to the opposite side of the carriage, and addressed Miss Dormer. +Paul took advantage of this passing distraction to say rapidly to Lois, +in a lower tone than he had used before: + +“Miss Turquand, I began a story the night I saw you in the country. If +I ever have the privilege of completing it, you will find that now it +will have a very different ending.” + +At this instant, Lady Quaintree issued from the shop, followed by a +shopman laden with parcels. Her ladyship had been unable to resist some +tempting novelties, and some wonderful bargains from a bankrupt’s stock. + +“Captain Desfrayne!” she said. “I did not know you were in town.” + +“I have only run up for a few hours on urgent business, madam,” he +replied. + +“We go to Eastbourne this day week,” her ladyship continued. “My +husband has been very unwell, and the physicians have ordered change of +air.” + +She added that they would be happy to see Captain Desfrayne, if he +chose to call at Lowndes Square before he left town again. Some more +civilities, and the carriage drove away. + +One long look passed between Paul and Lois--a look of mingled feeling +on his side; of inquiry, of surprise, of displeasure on hers--one of +those glances that serve to link two souls together, be it for good, be +it for evil. + +It left the young girl trembling, perplexed, agitated, more than any +words could have done. + +It told Paul Desfrayne that he had never loved till now, despite that +one terrible caprice of fancy and flattered vanity. + +But the hopes, the desires, the incipient love he had not dared +to cherish the last time he had seen this angelic creature, this +beautiful, pure English girl, who seemed to have glided across +his path to lead him from darkness and misery into light and +happiness--these feelings he might now yield to without sin. + +The air seemed full of golden haze, and even the somber figure of Lucia +Guiscardini could scarce dim the brightness of the day-dream that +surrounded him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +LUCIA’S TEARS. + + +Lucia Guiscardini had started by the night mail for Paris. + +The next morning was the one fixed for her marriage, arranged to take +place as quietly as possible at the Russian embassy. + +Fatigued, nay, utterly exhausted, she slept heavily for some hours +after her arrival at her apartments in the Rue Saint Honoré. + +When Finette came to arouse her, according to orders, she was lying +like one in a stupor, and it was with the greatest difficulty the girl +could wake her. + +“It is almost a pity not to let her sleep as long as she may,” thought +the maid, as she stood by her, looking down at the flushed face and +uneasy attitude of her slumbering mistress. + +Finette had no great reason to care much for the overbearing, +capricious prima donna, but she could perceive that she was struggling +against impending illness, and she felt sorry she should not be at her +best on her wedding-day. + +“Madam!” said Finette. “Awake! It is nearly eight o’clock, and your +bath is ready.” + +A shuddering sigh, and then Lucia relapsed into her lethargic state +again, though she was evidently suffering from the visitation of some +painful dream. + +“Madam!” again urged Finette. “It is your wedding-day. Rouse, then. It +is a glorious day--the sunshine bright and golden, scarce a cloud in +the blue sky.” + +She pressed the soft, rounded shoulder of her mistress, and shook her +with a firm yet gentle hand. For madam had given imperative orders +the preceding night that she must be awakened immediately after eight +o’clock, if not before. The entire responsibility of this lay with +Finette, for she had no other attendant with her. + +A stifled scream broke from the half-parched lips of the sleeper, and +she sprang up, throwing her hands forward, as if to defend herself. + +“No--no--no!” she shrieked. “No! Ah-h! You shall not take me. I have +not done it. Take your hands off----” + +“Madam, it is I--Finette. Do not be alarmed. Pray calm yourself. The +people in the house will be frightened. You have been dreaming. It is +your wedding-day.” + +The smooth, reassuring tones brought back the Italian’s scattered +senses, and the light of reason to her brilliant, distended eyes. +She turned her glance on the young girl standing by, and sank back, +shuddering, gasping for breath, almost on the verge of hysterics. + +“I believe--I--was dreaming. Oh, Heaven! what a horrid, awful dream!” +She covered her face with her hands, with a sobbing breath. “I am +scarcely awake now. I feel so--so tired.” + +“Your journey has fatigued you, madam. Why, you have had only a few +hours’ rest, though you slept a little in the train. Come, I suppose +madam must make an exertion, and rise. I will order the coffee.” + +“Why do you wish me to get up? Oh! my head aches so fearfully--at the +back, Finette.” + +“Madam forgets it is her wedding-day. I am sorry madam’s head is so +bad,” said Finette. + +“_Bon Dieu!_ my wedding-day!” cried Lucia, again starting up. “I had +forgotten. Give me my wrapper.” + +Finette gave her the richly embroidered silken wrapper, and then went +out to give directions about madam’s coffee. + +Lucia threw on her wrapper, and got out of bed. A few tottering steps, +and she fell back, flinging her arms on the coverlet in blank despair. + +“I believe I am going to be ill,” she cried, aloud. “But I must not be +ill until I have been made a princess. Oh! this sickening pain in my +head. But I must not give way at the last, after daring so much. What +folly! It is simply fatigue. I ought not to have stayed there till the +last moment, and then taken such a hurried flight.” + +She lay in a half-stupefied state, however, making no effort to raise +herself, as if she felt it would be useless. Then hot, blinding tears +of rage and despair began to rain over her arms, on which she rested. + +So absorbed was the unhappy creature by her terrors and doubts, her +feeling of physical exhaustion, her dread lest her forces should fail +her at the last, that she did not notice the return of Finette. + +The girl stood on the snow-white, fleecy rug just inside the door, in +an attitude and with an expression which showed that she was utterly +confounded by the scene before her. + +Madam had been in all varieties of humors--in violent, stormy frenzies +of rage, sullen, depressed, ill-humored, exhausted, wearied--but never +before like this. + +Finette’s idea was natural, and yet, hitherto, undreamed of, for her +lady had seemed, if not the least in love with her handsome prince, +certainly pleased and eager to welcome him. + +“She does not like him,” thought the waiting-maid, “and is only going +to marry him for his money and his title; perhaps she likes somebody +else. But it will never do for her to go on in this way.” + +The girl was pleased at the prospective vision of being confidential +maid to a rich princess--the position would offer so many advantages in +addition to the increase of social dignity. It ill-suited her that the +marriage should be put off, and she was superstitious enough to regard +as most unlucky a postponement of the wedding-day. + +It was not until she was close beside her that Lucia gave any sign of +being aroused. + +“Come, madam’s nerves are giving way,” said Finette smilingly. “Time +is flying, and madam knows how long it takes to dress. Sit in this +great easy chair, and steady yourself, while I brush out your hair. +Come, they say people always fall into a terrible way just before they +get married, though when the dreadful words have been spoken by the +clergyman, they begin to laugh at themselves for being so silly. It is +quite proper to cry on one’s wedding-day, madam.” + +She lent the support of her youthful arm to Lucia, who rose +mechanically, as if in a dream, and placed her before the +dressing-table, a fairy picture of lace, silver, carved ivory, and gold. + +Then she proceeded to array the bride, who exerted herself when desired +to do so, but otherwise sat or stood like a lovely inanimate statue or +waxen figure. + +Although it was to be a strictly private marriage, the only attendant +on herself being Finette, Lucia had prepared a toilet of the most +recherché quality. A pure, white silk, covered with rare and costly +laces, a hat of elfin workmanship, over which was thrown a square of +tulle, frilled and embroidered petticoats, proclaimed her bridal state. +With a great yearning, she had desired white satin and a lace veil, and +to wear some of her diamonds, but was obliged to stifle the wish. + +When she was dressed, Finette left her sitting by the open window, the +balcony of which was heaped with exquisite flowers. + +The girl--her only bridesmaid--went to attire herself in her own room, +which adjoined that of her mistress. + +“What has happened to me?” Lucia asked herself in affright. “What means +this weakness, this sense of a sudden blank? Shall I be able to go +through my morning’s work? What will happen next? Shall I live to enjoy +my honors, my wealth, my prince’s adoration? Nay, I must strive against +this pain and depression and fear.” + +Rising, she began to walk to and fro, with uncertain, wavering steps, +swaying from side to side unconsciously. + +Presently Finette returned, arrayed in a really charming manner in a +cloud of pretty, fresh, embroidered muslin. In her hand was a large +bouquet of the most choice blossoms, fit for the bride of a king to +carry. + +“See, madam,” she exclaimed gaily; “here are some flowers, this moment +sent. There was no name left, but you will guess from whom they have +come.” + +Lucia took the flowers, and put the bouquet up to her pale face, +without making any remark. + +“See how the sun shines--a happy omen!” continued the girl lightly, as +she gathered up her mistress’ handkerchief, gloves, and little ivory +fan. “The carriage waits--we shall be in good time.” + +Lucia recovered her strength, and in a certain degree her spirits. They +descended to the carriage, and drove to the Russian embassy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S MADNESS. + + +The prince was waiting impatiently the arrival of Lucia at the Russian +embassy. A tall, graceful man, some fifteen years older than his bride, +with a somber yet gentle face, jet-black eyes and beard, and dressed to +perfection. + +A friend on whom he could rely was his only companion. He did not at +present wish his relatives or any one of his large circle of friends +and acquaintances to know anything about this union. + +The ceremony was gone through, the necessary signatures given, and +Lucia Gilardoni, widow of the man scarce above the rank of peasant, +child of parents hardly equal to petty farmers, was the lawful wife of +this proud Russian noble on whose arm she leaned. + +Exultant, yet weighed down by an inexplicable dread of approaching +evil, the newly made princess swept down the aisle of the little +chapel, on her way to his carriage. Suddenly she clutched the prince’s +arm, and drew back, as if horror-stricken. With her disengaged hand she +pointed to a dim corner, her great black eyes widely opened, the pupils +distended. + +The prince looked to see what caused her overwhelming terror. Nothing +was visible, as far as he could descry. + +“What is it, my dearest love?” he tenderly asked, stooping to gaze into +her pallid face. + +“There--_there_!” she whispered. “He is there. They said he was dead. +They pretended I killed him. But he is there. He is not dead--or is it +his spirit?” + +“Of whom do you speak, my own dear one?” asked the prince. + +“My husband--Gilardoni. He stands there, and gazes at me with eyes of +fire. Is he dead or living?” + +She continued to point with her finger, her arm stretched out, her +neck craned, her eyes full of a horror too great for words. + +“There is no one here but ourselves,” said the prince, a vivid terror +seizing on his heart with a viselike grip. + +The others regarded her with consternation, but could not venture to +obtrude themselves on her notice--the prince’s friend, and the girl +Finette. + +A deathly silence succeeded. The bride dropped her pointing finger, +while retaining her clutch on her newly wedded husband’s arm, but she +continued to gaze at the phantom conjured up by her disordered fancy. + +“He is gone,” she whispered, with a great, gulping sigh. “Did you not +see? He melted away into the shadows. Take me away before he returns.” + +The prince hurried her to the door, then down the steps, and into his +carriage. His friend placed the girl Finette in her mistress’ carriage +and directed the coachman to take her as quickly as his horses would go +to the Hotel Fleury, in the Rue de Richelieu, where the newly married +couple were to sojourn in a magnificent suite of apartments for a +couple of days previous to starting for Switzerland. + +With a fear too deep for expression the prince watched his lovely +idol as she lay trembling within his encircling arm. Her face was of +a ghastly pallor, and her eyes were fixed with an absolutely vacant +look on the opposite side of the carriage, but it was difficult to +conjecture whether she was consciously thinking or not. + +Those betraying words of hers: “They said he was dead--they pretended +I had killed him--my husband--Gilardoni!” echoed in the brain of the +prince like a beating pulse. Had she, then, committed some fearful +crime, and had her reason given way under the sting of conscience? + +But no--no, a thousand times no! It was impossible. With a love, a +loyalty wasted on its object, he refused to believe anything ill of his +beloved one. + +“My own--my wife!” he murmured fondly. + +Lucia shivered, but made no response. They drove fast, and were soon at +the gates of the stately pile where the bride was to be lodged suitably +to her rank. + +The prince lifted her from the carriage, and drawing her hand once more +within his arm, led her up to the wide, richly carpeted staircase to +the suite on the first floor. + +Finette had preceded her mistress by five or ten minutes, and was +waiting with the other servants near the entrance. The newly married +pair walked through the bowing files of lackeys, and passed into the +principal sitting-room--a long, lofty salon, glowing with softly +modulated colors, rare china, mirrored panels, rich draperies, and +flowers. + +The prince closed the door, and sat down on a stool by the trembling +Lucia. + +“My dear love,” he said, with the deepest anxiety, yet resolved on +giving her the opportunity of granting some explanation, “what happened +to you in the chapel just now?” + +“I don’t know,” she vacantly replied. “What?--how?--I do not recollect. +I felt very ill.” + +“You are not well now.” + +“No; I am not.” + +“You seem totally different from your usual self.” + +“I feel so--I feel like--I cannot say how I feel--my brain is on fire.” + +“What did you mean by----” + +“By what?” she sharply demanded, turning on him the full gleam of her +resplendent eyes, to which the light of reason for a moment returned. + +“In the chapel you fancied you saw some one.” + +“I fancied? How strange! I forget,” Lucia replied, laughing gaily. +“Whom did I fancy I beheld?” + +“You said some very singular words, my dear love.” + +“What did I say?” + +But before he could speak a word in reply, her glance became again wild +and uncertain. She shuddered as if seized with ague, and then leaned +forward, as if she again saw the phantom conjured up by her disordered +brain in the chapel. + +“He is here!” she whispered, half to herself. “He has followed to +claim me. I can never escape him now. There is blood upon his wrist, +where----It is useless to struggle. I must give way to my destiny. +But I will never go with you,” she exclaimed, raising her voice. +“Never--never!” + +The prince caught her hand, which she snatched away, as if terrified, +looking at him with a vacant eye, that evidently did not recognize him. + +“You shall not take me,” she fiercely cried. “I did not do it--I swear +I did not! I was not there.” + +The prince rose, and, approaching a table heaped with elegant and +costly trifles, rang a hand-bell sharply. + +Almost instantly the violet velvet portière of the chief entrance was +raised, and an obsequious lackey stood waiting his lord’s commands. + +“Send Mademoiselle Finette here,” was the brief order. + +In a moment the girl had replaced her fellow servant. A brief, +searching glance showed her that something was wrong; but _what_ she +could scarcely tell. + +“Come here,” said the prince. + +He placed her in front of his bride, who was now leaning her head on +her hand, resting against the stool, apparently lost to all around her. + +“Madam!” exclaimed the waiting-maid, in consternation at her vacant yet +wild aspect. + +“What is the matter with her?” demanded the prince. “Has she ever been +like this before?” + +“No, monseigneur--no, no, never. Something has happened,” replied the +trembling maid. + +“Something terrible--something awful,” cried the unhappy prince, in +an agony of despairing love and fear. “Do you know if anything has +occurred to overthrow her reason?” + +“I know nothing, monseigneur. Madam has always been so quiet in her +life, although perhaps a little passionate in her ways, sometimes. +Madam--madam, speak to me--to your poor Finette,” pleaded the girl, +taking the passive hand that lay in her mistress’ lap. + +A dumb spirit seemed to have seized upon the miserable victim of her +own sins and crimes. With a swift glance at the maid, she averted her +head coldly, and resumed her gaze into empty space. + +Some crude idea had got into her dazed brain that she would betray +herself if she spoke, and she had resolved on keeping utterly silent. +The prince she had apparently forgotten. + +“Remain with her,” said he. “I shall return presently.” + +He went to his own private sitting-room, and, going to a desk, wrote +a few lines to the most eminent doctor among those who devoted their +sole attention to the study of lunacy. Then he rang for his valet--an +elderly, severely respectable-looking man, with a tranquil manner. + +“Do you know where to find this medical man?” the prince asked, showing +him the envelope. + +“I believe, monseigneur, he lives in the Rue de Rivoli--but I can +easily find out,” answered the valet. + +“Do so. Take the brougham, and do not return without him. It is a +matter of life and death for me. Do not lose a moment--but wait for him +if he should be absent.” + +The doctor was not absent. He returned with the confidential servant +within a quarter of an hour, and presented himself in the sitting-room, +which the prince had not quitted, for he dared not go back to the +presence of his distraught bride. + +Accustomed as the medical man was to every variety of painful case of +lunacy, his face betrayed some signs of surprise and compassion as he +listened to the story of the unhappy Lucia’s loss of reason, but he +expressed no opinion, simply bowing as he rose to obey the entreaty of +the bridegroom that he would see the princess. + +“Pardon me, if I stay here until you come back to me,” said the prince, +his ashy face showing only too plainly the suffering at his heart. “I +dare not accompany you. I love my wife ardently, passionately--and----” + +“Remain here,” gently replied the medical man. “I shall not keep you +long in suspense.” + +The prince flung himself face downward on a lounge as his valet +conducted the doctor from the room. He began to fear that this awful +shock would end in depriving him of reason. Throbbing pulses surged +like waves in his ears, and his senses threatened to desert him. + +The slow-dragging minutes went on, on, on, steadily, monotonously, and +at length the prince felt he could not remain thus supinely waiting any +longer. In reality, half an hour had elapsed from the moment he was +left alone, but it seemed like many hours. + +Rising, he was about to go to the salon, but as he raised himself, the +portière was drawn aside, and the physician stood again before him. + +The sad, grave face told its own tale, but the prince could not be +satisfied. + +“Doctor, how have you found her? What news do you bring me?” he cried +desperately. + +“The worst. Reason has utterly fled, never, I fear, to return. There +has been some fearful pressure on the brain and nervous system. It +would be as well to have a consultation, however, for sometimes these +difficult cases are deceptive.” + +But his judgment was only too firmly established on further inquiry. +Lucia adhered to her crazed resolve not to utter a word, though her +frequent terror and fixed look showed that she still believed herself +closely watched by the figure she imagined she had seen in the chapel +at the Russian embassy. + +But she had caused a terrible suspicion of the truth to dawn in the +mind of the last victim of her ruthless ambition. The prince reflected +upon the subject until he arrived at a tolerably correct surmise of the +facts of the case. + +A man of prompt resolve and speedy action, he at once settled in his +mind the course he should pursue, when he had recovered from the +stunning effects of his first horror. For a few days Lucia was to +remain in her own apartments while the further inquiry was conducted, +then he would take her to Switzerland, and there place her in a pretty, +secluded villa among the mountains, guarded and waited upon by a +trustworthy band of servants, under the immediate direction of Finette, +who agreed to accompany her ill-fated mistress. + +This was done. From time to time, the prince went to see her; but she +displayed the most utter indifference toward him, and never once gave +the slightest sign of recognition. + +A strange fancy seized her after a while--that this Swiss retreat was +the villa and garden at Florence, where she had pursued her studies for +the stage, and where she had lived until she made her escape, through +the intervention of Paul Desfrayne, to Paris. + +But she always remained totally dumb. Not the most strenuous effort +could induce her to break that terrible silence. Even in singing, which +she practised with the assiduity of her early student-days, she would +use no words, only the vowels employed in the chromatic and diatonic +scales. Her voice was infinitely richer, fuller, sweeter than it had +ever been, and frequently the prince would enjoy a melancholy pleasure +in listening beneath the window to the dulcet waves of birdlike melody. + +She loved to deck herself with the splendor of a queen; and in this +fancy the prince freely indulged her, though he never employed the +slightest portion of her large fortune for this object. The horror +which might have crushed his love when he was forced to believe that +she might have committed the crime of which she had accused herself was +tempered by the most profound pity for her distraught state. + +Happily, no other love came to make the life of this betrayed man +a burden to him, therefore the chains with which he had been so +treacherously bound did not gall as they might have done. + +A few were trusted with the terrible secret of Lucia’s loss of +reason--the director of the London opera-house, and one or two others. + +When the emissaries of justice came to seek for her--to accuse her of +her sacrilegious theft, they found her forever beyond the reach of +earthly law. + +The Supreme Judge had seen fit to allot her a punishment before which +her accusers drew back in solemn awe and dread. + +Thus ended the race upon which the lovely and gifted Lucia Guiscardini +had entered with such a high heart and iron nerve. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +THE SOUND OF WEDDING-BELLS. + + +It was a bright day at the seashore, and the beach was crowded. + +Lord and Lady Quaintree were at Eastbourne, with the Honorable +Gerald and “the two girls,” as Lois and Blanche were affectionately +designated. Frank Amberley had come to spend his few weeks of holiday +here. + +Paul, by the advice of his colonel, had seen the Italian consul in +London. The consul had looked grave, listened to his story, received +the register, and said: + +“The matter shall have every attention, and in all probability we shall +communicate with you shortly respecting it.” + +Some months, after all, elapsed before Captain Desfrayne received any +communication, and then he learned the painful facts of the unhappy +Lucia’s third marriage and the loss of her reason. + +He made every effort to find her on settling the affair at the Italian +consulate--but vainly, and was obliged to relinquish the attempt. Then +he repaired to Eastbourne. The agitation of these last few weeks had +told terribly on his health, although he was rejoicing with unspeakable +joy over his recovered liberty. + +He knew that the Quaintrees had chosen the place; indeed, that had been +the attraction for him. And Frank Amberley had seen him during his +visit to London, and mentioned his intention of coming. + +Captain Desfrayne set off to pay a visit of ceremony to Lady Quaintree. + +On the way, however, the scene was so bright, so alluring, so unlike +what he had been condemned to for some time, that he paused to +contemplate it. + +How many minutes he lingered he did not know, but he was aroused from a +bitter-sweet day-dream by hearing some one address him by name. It was +Frank Amberley. + +The young lawyer had left a party seated on the beach to come and +intercept Paul; but returned to them, followed by his treasure-trove. + +Paul’s heart beat violently, for he perceived Lois Turquand, dazzlingly +beautiful as a sea-nymph. He knew not what he said, either to the +ladies or to Lord Quaintree and his son, and sat down mechanically when +Blanche moved a little to make room for him on the beach. + +The remarks, the replies, the notes, and queries, were all commonplace +enough, so Paul could keep up a show of attention without betraying his +abstracted state of mind. + +“Charming, indeed,” he had just returned, to an observation of Lady +Quaintree’s--Lois was absolutely silent. + +Frank Amberley, too loyal to gain any advantage by treachery, would +have explained to Lois that the sad story he told her had ended less +tragically than it threatened to do; but he had not yet found any +opportunity of speaking to Miss Turquand undisturbed. He had, in fact, +preceded Captain Desfrayne by only a couple of days. + +Gerald had continued to devote himself to Blanche, in spite of his +mother’s evidences of displeasure. Lady Quaintree had begun to despair +of being able to secure Lois as a daughter-in-law. Blanche was amused +by the little flirtation into which Gerald had drawn her, but she cared +not a straw for him; while the grave, handsome face, the soft, musical +accents of Frank Amberley began to dangerously haunt her dreams. + +The little party rose, and Paul Desfrayne accompanied them a short way. +For part of the time he found himself lingering behind the others, with +Miss Turquand. + +An almost irrepressible desire to confide in her rose in his heart; +but he crushed the wish, for this was neither the time nor place. A +few impetuous words, however, gave her an inkling of the change that +had come to him, and she glanced up at him. A look of passionate +admiration--of dawning love--made her blush deeply and avert her head, +and hurry a few steps to rejoin the others. But when they were about +to part, she gave him her hand with a little happy smile of confidence. + +The tranquil, sunlit days glided by, and lengthened into weeks. + +Frank Amberley, fully conscious of the risk to his peace involved by +lingering, could not tear himself away. But by degrees he discovered +the charm, the beauty, the sweetness of the innocent Blanche’s +character, so was in a fair way of being consoled. Happily for himself, +he was not one of those who love but once and forever. + +Paul Desfrayne did not tell his painful story all at once, and Lois +spared him much of the distress involved in the recital, but by degrees +she became aware of all the sad details; and she gave him all the pity +and sympathy of her fresh young heart. + +The Honorable Gerald found some one more appreciative and more warmly +disposed in his favor than the pretty Blanche, and transferred all the +devotion he had to offer to the more accessible divinity. + +Paul was left pretty much to his own devices in winning the prize held +out to him so strangely. + +It was not a difficult task. Never did wooing prosper more hopefully. + +The last few days of this brief, delicious holiday were fast winging to +the dim past. + +Nay, the last evening had come--a soft, cloudless, moonlit night, when +the very air seemed to breathe of love. + +Gerald was away; Blanche and Lady Quaintree were taking a farewell turn +on the sands; Lord Quaintree was asleep. Lois had stayed at home, for +she had a tolerably clear idea that Paul would come, and he had looked +a hope that he might find her alone. + +The young girl was sitting in the long, flower-wreathed balcony, the +mild, silvery moonbeams falling over her like a radiance, making her +look some lovely ethereal spirit. + +Paul did come, as she anticipated. The dim, mysterious light did not +betray the glowing blush upon her beautiful face, the sparkling, happy +light in her eyes. She did not hear his step upon the carpet, nor see +him, but some electrical sympathy told her he was approaching. + +With a soft, welcoming, trustful smile, she held out her hand, which +he took, but omitted to release. Then he sat down close to her, yet +slightly behind her chair, as if even now he scarcely dared to believe +that the promise of the future could be true. + +A murmuring conversation, too low for ears less acute than those +attuned by love to hear, and then Paul gently folded Lois in his arms. +Then, after a pause, he slipped a diamond ring of betrothal upon her +finger, and she was his promised wife. + +Vere Gardiner’s dying wishes had come to a happy fruition, after all. +And the story ended like the delightful old fairy-tales, with a joyous +clash of merry wedding-bells. + +But this time there was no rash marrying in haste. Almost a year +elapsed, by the influence and desire of Lady Quaintree, before the +pretty bridal-party met in Flore Hall, about six weeks before the +marriage of Frank Amberley and Blanche Dormer. + +The echoes of the harmonious wedding-bells sound as yet through the +wedded life of Paul and his true love. Adieu, care; farewell, sorrow, +for the inevitable cares and sorrows are shared, so fall lightly. + +Sometimes a faint cloud comes over Paul’s face as he thinks of the +one act of folly which had so nearly ruined his life; but he tries to +forget the forbidding past, and to sun himself in the love and bright +smiles of his wife and two little angel-children, baby Lois, and her +elder brother, Paul. + + +THE END. + + +“Her Heart’s Delight,” by Bertha M. Clay is the title of No. 301 of the +NEW BERTHA CLAY LIBRARY. It is a story that the readers of this series +will not find lacking in the skill that Bertha Clay displays in telling +a vivid romance. + + + + +POPULAR COPYRIGHTS + +New Eagle Series + +_Carefully Selected Love Stories_ + + +There is such a profusion of good books in this list, that it is an +impossibility to urge you to select any particular title or author’s +work. All that we can say is that any line that contains the complete +works of Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Charles Garvice, Mrs. Harriet Lewis, +May Agnes Fleming, Wenona Gilman, Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller, and other +writers of the same type, is worthy of your attention. + + +_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_ + + 1--Queen Bess By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 2--Ruby’s Reward By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 7--Two Keys By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 9--The Virginia Heiress By May Agnes Fleming + 12--Edrie’s Legacy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 17--Leslie’s Loyalty By Charles Garvice + 22--Elaine By Charles Garvice + 24--A Wasted Love By Charles Garvice + 41--Her Heart’s Desire By Charles Garvice + 44--That Dowdy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 50--Her Ransom By Charles Garvice + 55--Thrice Wedded By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 66--Witch Hazel By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 70--Sydney By Charles Garvice + 73--The Marquis By Charles Garvice + 77--Tina By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 79--Out of the Past By Charles Garvice + 84--Imogene By Charles Garvice + 85--Lorrie; or, Hollow Gold By Charles Garvice + 88--Virgie’s Inheritance By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 95--A Wilful Maid By Charles Garvice + 98--Claire By Charles Garvice + 99--Audrey’s Recompense By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 102--Sweet Cymbeline By Charles Garvice + 109--Signa’s Sweetheart By Charles Garvice + 111--Faithful Shirley By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 117--She Loved Him By Charles Garvice + 119--’Twixt Smile and Tear By Charles Garvice + 122--Grazia’s Mistake By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 130--A Passion Flower By Charles Garvice + 133--Max By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 136--The Unseen Bridegroom By May Agnes Fleming + 138--A Fatal Wooing By Laura Jean Libbey + 141--Lady Evelyn By May Agnes Fleming + 144--Dorothy’s Jewels By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 146--Magdalen’s Vow By May Agnes Fleming + 151--The Heiress of Glen Gower By May Agnes Fleming + 155--Nameless Dell By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 157--Who Wins By May Agnes Fleming + 166--The Masked Bridal By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 168--Thrice Lost, Thrice Won By May Agnes Fleming + 174--His Guardian Angel By Charles Garvice + 177--A True Aristocrat By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 181--The Baronet’s Bride By May Agnes Fleming + 188--Dorothy Arnold’s Escape By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 199--Geoffrey’s Victory By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 203--Only One Love By Charles Garvice + 210--Wild Oats By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 213--The Heiress of Egremont By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 215--Only a Girl’s Love By Charles Garvice + 219--Lost: A Pearle By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 222--The Lily of Mordaunt By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 223--Leola Dale’s Fortune By Charles Garvice + 231--The Earl’s Heir By Charles Garvice + 233--Nora By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 236--Her Humble Lover By Charles Garvice + 242--A Wounded Heart By Charles Garvice + 244--A Hoiden’s Conquest By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 250--A Woman’s Soul By Charles Garvice + 255--The Little Marplot By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 257--A Martyred Love By Charles Garvice + 266--The Welfleet Mystery By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 267--Jeanne By Charles Garvice + 268--Olivia; or, It Was for Her Sake By Charles Garvice + 272--So Fair, So False By Charles Garvice + 276--So Nearly Lost By Charles Garvice + 277--Brownie’s Triumph By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 280--Love’s Dilemma By Charles Garvice + 282--The Forsaken Bride By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 283--My Lady Pride By Charles Garvice + 287--The Lady of Darracourt By Charles Garvice + 288--Sibyl’s Influence By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 291--A Mysterious Wedding Ring By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 292--For Her Only By Charles Garvice + 296--The Heir of Vering By Charles Garvice + 299--Little Miss Whirlwind By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 300--The Spider and the Fly By Charles Garvice + 303--The Queen of the Isle By May Agnes Fleming + 304--Stanch as a Woman By Charles Garvice + 305--Led by Love By Charles Garvice + 309--The Heiress of Castle Cliffs By May Agnes Fleming + 312--Woven on Fate’s Loom, and The Snowdrift By Charles Garvice + 315--The Dark Secret By May Agnes Fleming + 317--Ione By Laura Jean Libbey + 318--Stanch of Heart By Charles Garvice + 322--Mildred By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes + 326--Parted by Fate By Laura Jean Libbey + 327--He Loves Me By Charles Garvice + 328--He Loves Me Not By Charles Garvice + 330--Aikenside By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes + 333--Stella’s Fortune By Charles Garvice + 334--Miss McDonald By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes + 339--His Heart’s Queen By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 340--Bad Hugh. Vol. I. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes + 341--Bad Hugh. Vol. II. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes + 344--Tresillian Court By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 345--The Scorned Wife By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 346--Guy Tresillian’s Fate By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 347--The Eyes of Love By Charles Garvice + 348--The Hearts of Youth By Charles Garvice + 351--The Churchyard Betrothal By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 352--Family Pride. Vol. I. By Mary J. Holmes + 353--Family Pride. Vol. II. By Mary J. Holmes + 354--A Love Comedy By Charles Garvice + 360--The Ashes of Love By Charles Garvice + 361--A Heart Triumphant By Charles Garvice + 362--Stella Rosevelt By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 367--The Pride of Her Life By Charles Garvice + 368--Won By Love’s Valor By Charles Garvice + 372--A Girl in a Thousand By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 373--A Thorn Among Roses. + Sequel to “A Girl In a Thousand” By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 380--Her Double Life By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 381--The Sunshine of Love. + Sequel to “Her Double Life” By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 382--Mona By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 391--Marguerite’s Heritage By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 399--Betsey’s Transformation By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 407--Esther, the Fright By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 415--Trixy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 440--Edna’s Secret Marriage By Charles Garvice + 449--The Bailiff’s Scheme By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 450--Rosamond’s Love. + Sequel to “The Bailiff’s Scheme” By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 451--Helen’s Victory By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 456--A Vixen’s Treachery By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 457--Adrift in the World. + Sequel to “A Vixen’s Treachery” By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 458--When Love Meets Love By Charles Garvice + 464--The Old Life’s Shadows By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 465--Outside Her Eden. + Sequel to “The Old Life’s Shadows” By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 474--The Belle of the Season By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 475--Love Before Pride. + Sequel to “The Belle of the Season” By Mrs. Harriet Lewis + 481--Wedded, Yet No Wife By May Agnes Fleming + 489--Lucy Harding By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes + 495--Norine’s Revenge By May Agnes Fleming + 511--The Golden Key By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 512--A Heritage of Love. + Sequel to “The Golden Key” By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 519--The Magic Cameo By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 520--The Heatherford Fortune. + Sequel to “The Magic Cameo” By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 531--Better Than Life By Charles Garvice + 542--Once in a Life By Charles Garvice + 548--’Twas Love’s Fault By Charles Garvice + 553--Queen Kate By Charles Garvice + 554--Step by Step By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 557--In Cupid’s Chains By Charles Garvice + 630--The Verdict of the Heart By Charles Garvice + 635--A Coronet of Shame By Charles Garvice + 640--A Girl of Spirit By Charles Garvice + 645--A Jest of Fate By Charles Garvice + 648--Gertrude Elliott’s Crucible By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 650--Diana’s Destiny By Charles Garvice + 655--Linked by Fate By Charles Garvice + 663--Creatures of Destiny By Charles Garvice + 671--When Love Is Young By Charles Garvice + 676--My Lady Beth By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 679--Gold in the Gutter By Charles Garvice + 712--Love and a Lie By Charles Garvice + 721--A Girl from the South By Charles Garvice + 730--John Hungerford’s Redemption By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon + 741--The Fatal Ruby By Charles Garvice + 749--The Heart of a Maid By Charles Garvice + 758--The Woman in It By Charles Garvice + 774--Love in a Snare By Charles Garvice + 775--My Love Kitty By Charles Garvice + 776--That Strange Girl By Charles Garvice + 777--Nellie By Charles Garvice + 778--Miss Estcourt; or Olive By Charles Garvice + 818--The Girl Who Was True By Charles Garvice + 826--The Irony of Love By Charles Garvice + 896--A Terrible Secret By May Agnes Fleming + 897--When To-morrow Came By May Agnes Fleming + 904--A Mad Marriage By May Agnes Fleming + 905--A Woman Without Mercy By May Agnes Fleming + 912--One Night’s Mystery By May Agnes Fleming + 913--The Cost of a Lie By May Agnes Fleming + 920--Silent and True By May Agnes Fleming + 921--A Treasure Lost By May Agnes Fleming + 925--Forrest House By Mary J. Holmes + 926--He Loved Her Once By Mary J. Holmes + 930--Kate Danton By May Agnes Fleming + 931--Proud as a Queen By May Agnes Fleming + 935--Queenie Hetherton By Mary J. Holmes + 936--Mightier Than Pride By Mary J. Holmes + 940--The Heir of Charlton By May Agnes Fleming + 941--While Love Stood Waiting By May Agnes Fleming + 945--Gretchen By Mary J. Holmes + 946--Beauty That Faded By Mary J. Holmes + 950--Carried by Storm By May Agnes Fleming + 951--Love’s Dazzling Glitter By May Agnes Fleming + 954--Marguerite By Mary J. Holmes + 955--When Love Spurs Onward By Mary J. Holmes + 960--Lost for a Woman By May Agnes Fleming + 961--His to Love or Hate By May Agnes Fleming + 964--Paul Ralston’s First Love By Mary J. Holmes + 965--Where Love’s Shadows Lie Deep By Mary J. Holmes + 968--The Tracy Diamonds By Mary J. Holmes + 969--She Loved Another By Mary J. Holmes + 972--The Cromptons By Mary J. Holmes + 973--Her Husband Was a Scamp By Mary J. Holmes + 975--The Merivale Banks By Mary J. Holmes + 978--The One Girl in the World By Charles Garvice + 979--His Priceless Jewel By Charles Garvice + 982--The Millionaire’s Daughter and Other Stories By Chas. Garvice + 983--Doctor Hathern’s Daughters By Mary J. Holmes + 984--The Colonel’s Bride By Mary J. Holmes + 988--Her Ladyship’s Diamonds, and Other Stories By Chas. Garvice + 998--Sharing Her Crime By May Agnes Fleming + 999--The Heiress of Sunset Hall By May Agnes Fleming + 1004--Maude Percy’s Secret By May Agnes Fleming + 1005--The Adopted Daughter By May Agnes Fleming + 1010--The Sisters of Torwood By May Agnes Fleming + 1015--A Changed Heart By May Agnes Fleming + 1016--Enchanted By May Agnes Fleming + 1025--A Wife’s Tragedy By May Agnes Fleming + 1026--Brought to Reckoning By May Agnes Fleming + 1027--A Madcap Sweetheart By Emma Garrison Jones + 1028--An Unhappy Bargain By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1029--Only a Working Girl By Geraldine Fleming + 1030--The Unbidden Guest By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1031--The Man and His Millions By Ida Reade Allen + 1032--Mabel’s Sacrifice By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1033--Was He Worth It? By Geraldine Fleming + 1034--Her Two Suitors By Wenona Gilman + 1035--Edith Percival By May Agnes Fleming + 1036--Caught in the Snare By May Agnes Fleming + 1037--A Love Concealed By Emma Garrison Jones + 1038--The Price of Happiness By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1039--The Lucky Man By Geraldine Fleming + 1040--A Forced Promise By Ida Reade Allen + 1041--The Crime of Love By Barbara Howard + 1042--The Bride’s Opals By Emma Garrison Jones + 1043--Love That Was Cursed By Geraldine Fleming + 1044--Thorns of Regret By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1045--Love Will Find the Way By Wenona Gilman + 1046--Bitterly Atoned By Mrs. E. Burke Collins + 1047--Told in the Twilight By Ida Reade Allen + 1048--A Little Barbarian By Charlotte Kingsley + 1049--Love’s Golden Spell By Geraldine Fleming + 1050--Married in Error By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1051--If It Were True By Wenona Gilman + 1052--Vivian’s Love Story By Mrs. E. Burke Collins + 1053--From Tears to Smiles By Ida Reade Allen + 1054--When Love Dawns By Adelaide Stirling + 1055--Love’s Earnest Prayer By Geraldine Fleming + 1056--The Strength of Love By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1057--A Lost Love By Wenona Gilman + 1058--The Stronger Passion By Lillian R. Drayton + 1059--What Love Can Cost By Evelyn Malcolm + 1060--At Another’s Bidding By Ida Reade Allen + 1061--Above All Things By Adelaide Stirling + 1062--The Curse of Beauty By Geraldine Fleming + 1063--Her Sister’s Secret By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1064--Married in Haste By Wenona Gilman + 1065--Fair Maid Marian By Emma Garrison Jones + 1066--No Man’s Wife By Ida Reade Allen + 1067--A Sacrifice to Love By Adelaide Stirling + 1068--Her Fatal Gift By Geraldine Fleming + 1069--Her Life’s Burden By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1070--Evelyn, the Actress By Wenona Gilman + 1071--Married for Money By Lucy Randall Comfort + 1072--A Lost Sweetheart By Ida Reade Allen + 1073--A Golden Sorrow By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1074--Her Heart’s Challenge By Barbara Howard + 1075--His Willing Slave By Lillian R. Drayton + 1076--A Freak of Fate By Emma Garrison Jones + 1077--Her Punishment By Laura Jean Libbey + 1078--The Shadow Between Them By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1079--No Time for Penitence By Wenona Gilman + 1080--Norma’s Black Fortune By Ida Reade Allen + 1081--A Wilful Girl By Lucy Randall Comfort + 1082--Love’s First Kiss By Emma Garrison Jones + 1083--Lola Dunbar’s Crime By Barbara Howard + 1084--Ethel’s Secret By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1085--Lynette’s Wedding By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1086--A Fair Enchantress By Ida Reade Allen + 1087--The Tide of Fate By Wenona Gilman + 1088--Her Husband’s Other Wife By Emma Garrison Jones + 1089--Hearts of Stone By Geraldine Fleming + 1090--In Love’s Springtime By Laura Jean Libbey + 1091--Love at the Loom By Geraldine Fleming + 1092--What Was She to Him? By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1093--For Another’s Fault By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1094--Hearts and Dollars By Ida Reade Allan + 1095--A Wife’s Triumph By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1096--A Bachelor Girl By Lucy May Russell + 1097--Love and Spite By Adelaide Stirling + 1098--Leola’s Heart By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1099--The Power of Love By Geraldine Fleming + 1100--An Angel of Evil By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1101--True to His Bride By Emma Garrison Jones + 1102--The Lady of Beaufort Park By Wenona Gilman + 1103--A Daughter of Darkness By Ida Reade Allen + 1104--My Pretty Maid By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1105--Master of Her Fate By Geraldine Fleming + 1106--A Shadowed Happiness By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1107--John Elliott’s Flirtation By Lucy May Russell + 1108--A Forgotten Love By Adelaide Stirling + 1109--Sylvia, The Forsaken By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1110--Her Dearest Love By Geraldine Fleming + 1111--Love’s Greatest Gift By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1112--Mischievous Maid Faynie By Laura Jean Libbey + 1113--In Love’s Name By Emma Garrison Jones + 1114--Love’s Clouded Dawn By Wenona Gilman + 1115--A Blue Grass Heroine By Ida Reade Allen + 1116--Only a Kiss By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1117--Virgie Talcott’s Mission By Lucy May Russell + 1118--Her Evil Genius By Adelaide Stirling + 1119--In Love’s Paradise By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1120--Sold for Gold By Geraldine Fleming + 1121--Andrew Leicester’s Love By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1122--Taken by Storm By Emma Garrison Jones + 1123--The Mills of the Gods By Wenona Gilman + 1124--The Breath of Slander By Ida Reade Allen + 1125--Loyal Unto Death By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1126--A Spurned Proposal By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1127--Daredevil Betty By Evelyn Malcolm + 1128--Her Life’s Dark Cloud By Lillian R. Drayton + 1129--True Love Endures By Ida Reade Allen + 1130--The Battle of Hearts By Geraldine Fleming + 1131--Better Than Riches By Wenona Gilman + 1132--Tempted By Love By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1133--Between Good and Evil By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1134--A Southern Princess By Emma Garrison Jones + 1135--The Thorns of Love By Evelyn Malcolm + 1136--A Married Flirt By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1137--Her Priceless Love By Geraldine Fleming + 1138--My Own Sweetheart By Wenona Gilman + 1139--Love’s Harvest By Adelaide Fox Robinson + 1140--His Two Loves By Ida Reade Allen + 1141--The Love He Sought By Lillian R. Drayton + 1142--A Fateful Promise By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1143--Love Surely Triumphs By Charlotte May Kingsley + 1144--The Haunting Past By Evelyn Malcolm + 1145--Sorely Tried By Emma Garrison Jones + 1146--Falsely Accused By Geraldine Fleming + 1147--Love Given in Vain By Adelaide Fox Robinson + 1148--No One to Help Her By Ida Reade Allen + 1149--Her Golden Secret By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1150--Saved From Herself By Adelaide Stirling + 1151--The Gypsy’s Warning By Emma Garrison Jones + 1152--Caught in Love’s Net By Ida Reade Allen + 1153--The Pride of My Heart By Laura Jean Libbey + 1154--A Vagabond Heiress By Charlotte May Kingsley + 1155--That Terrible Tomboy By Geraldine Fleming + 1156--The Man She Hated By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1157--Her Fateful Choice By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1158--A Hero For Love’s Sake By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1159--A Penniless Princess By Emma Garrison Jones + 1160--Love’s Rugged Pathway By Ida Reade Allen + 1161--Had She Loved Him Less By Laura Jean Libbey + 1162--The Serpent and the Dove By Charlotte May Kingsley + 1163--What Love Made Her By Geraldine Fleming + 1164--Love Conquers Pride By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1165--His Unbounded Faith By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1166--A Heart’s Triumph By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1167--Stronger than Fate By Emma Garrison Jones + 1168--A Virginia Goddess By Ida Reade Allen + 1169--Love’s Young Dream By Laura Jean Libbey + 1170--When Fate Decrees By Adelaide Fox Robinson + 1171--For a Flirt’s Love By Geraldine Fleming + 1172--All For Love By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1173--Could He Have Known By Charlotte May Stanley + 1174--The Girl He Loved By Adelaide Stirling + 1175--They Met By Chance By Ida Reade Allen + 1176--The Lovely Constance By Laura Jean Libbey + 1177--The Love That Prevailed By Mrs. E. Burke Collins + 1178--Trixie’s Honor By Geraldine Fleming + 1179--Driven from Home By Wenona Gilman + 1180--The Arm of the Law By Evelyn Malcolm + 1181--A Will Of Her Own By Ida Reade Allen + 1182--Pity--Not Love By Laura Jean Libbey + 1183--Brave Barbara By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1184--Lady Gay’s Martyrdom By Charlotte May Kingsley + 1185--Barriers of Stone By Wenona Gilman + 1186--A Useless Sacrifice By Emma Garrison Jones + 1187--When We Two Parted By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1188--Far Above Price By Evelvn Malcolm + 1189--In Love’s Shadows By Ida Reade Allen + 1190--The Veiled Bride By Laura Jean Libbey + 1191--The Love Knot By Charlotte May Kingsley + 1192--She Scoffed at Love By Mrs. E. Burke Collins + 1193--Life’s Richest Jewel By Adelaide Fox Robinson + 1194--A Barrier Between Them By Evelyn Malcolm + 1195--Too Quickly Judged By Ida Reade Allen + 1196--Lotta, the Cloak Model By Laura Jean Libbey + 1197--Loved at Last By Geraldine Fleming + 1198--They Looked and Loved By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1199--The Wiles of a Siren By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1200--Tricked Into Marriage By Evelyn Malcolm + 1201--Her Twentieth Guest By Emma Garrison Jones + 1202--From Dreams to Waking By Charlotte M. Kingsley + 1203--Sweet Kitty Clover By Laura Jean Libbey + 1204--Selina’s Love Story By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1205--The Cost of Pride By Lillian R. Drayton + 1206--Love Is a Mystery By Adelaide Fox Robinson + 1207--When Love Speaks By Evelyn Malcolm + 1208--A Siren’s Heart By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1209--Her Share of Sorrow By Wenona Gilman + 1210--The Other Girl’s Lover By Lillian R. Drayton + 1211--The Fatal Kiss By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller + 1212--A Reckless Promise By Emma Garrison Jones + 1213--Without Name or Wealth By Ida Reade Allen + 1214--At Her Father’s Bidding By Geraldine Fleming + 1215--The Heart of Hetta By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1216--A Dreadful Legacy By Geraldine Fleming + +In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the +books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New +York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance +promptly, on account of delays in transportation. + + +To be published in July, 1926. + + 1217--For Jack’s Sake By Emma Garrison Jones + 1218--One Man’s Evil By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + + +To be published In August, 1926. + + 1219--Through the Shadows By Adelaide Fox Robinson + 1220--The Stolen Bride By Evelyn Malcolm + + +To be published in September, 1926. + + 1221--When the Heart Hungers By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1222--The Love that Would Not Die By Ida Reade Allen + + +To be published in October, 1926. + + 1223--A King and a Coward By Effie Adelaide Rowlands + 1224--A Queen of Song By Geraldine Fleming + + +To be published in November, 1926. + + 1225--Shall We Forgive Her? By Charlotte May Kingsley + 1226--Face to Face with Love By Lillian R. Drayton + 1227--Long Since Forgiven By Mrs. E. Burke Collins + + +To be published In December, 1926. + + 1228--As Light as Air By Charlotte M. Stanley + 1229--When Man Proposes By Emma Garrison Jones + + + + +The Dealer + + +who handles the STREET & SMITH NOVELS is a man worth patronizing. The +fact that he does handle our books proves that he has considered the +merits of paper-covered lines, and has decided that the STREET & SMITH +NOVELS are superior to all others. + +He has looked into the question of the morality of the paper-covered +book, for instance, and feels that he is perfectly safe in handing one +of our novels to any one, because he has our assurance that nothing +except clean, wholesome literature finds its way into our lines. + +Therefore, the STREET & SMITH NOVEL dealer is a careful and wise +tradesman, and it is fair to assume selects the other articles he +has for sale with the same degree of intelligence as he does his +paper-covered books. + +Deal with the STREET & SMITH NOVEL dealer. + + + STREET & SMITH CORPORATION + 79 Seventh Avenue New York City + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes: + + +Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. + +Table of contents has been added and placed into the public domain by +the transcriber. + +Due to a typographical error, an incorrect line of text (duplicated +from an earlier page) was printed on page 36 of the book used as the +basis for this edition. This has been replaced here with the correct +phrase: “never left him. What would she say when she learnt” which was +sourced from an overseas serialization of the work under the title +_Married in Haste_, with the correct text located in the Wednesday, +April 5, 1899 issue of _The Maryborough Chronicle_ newspaper. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75137 *** diff --git a/75137-h/75137-h.htm b/75137-h/75137-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f97ace6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75137-h/75137-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12996 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Suffered in vain; or, A plaything of fate | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +.small { font-size: 75%; } +.medium { font-size: 125%; } +.huge { font-size: 175%; } + +table.bertha td.tdl { min-width: 60%; } + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp51 {width: 51%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp51 {width: 100%;} +.illowp60 {width: 60%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp60 {width: 100%;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75137 ***</div> +<figure class="figcenter illowp51" id="cover" style="max-width: 117.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p class="center"><i>NEW BERTHA CLAY LIBRARY No. 300</i></p> + +<h1>SUFFERED<br> +IN VAIN</h1> + +<p class="center"><i>By<br> +<span class="smcap huge">Bertha<br> +M. Clay</span></i></p> + +<p class="p2 center"><i>STREET & SMITH CORPORATION<br> +PUBLISHERS ~ NEW YORK</i></p> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center medium">A FAVORITE OF MILLIONS</p> +</div> + +<h2>New Bertha Clay Library</h2> + +<p class="center medium">ALL BY BERTHA M. CLAY</p> + +<p class="center medium">Love Stories with Plenty of Action</p> + +<p class="center medium">The Author Needs No Introduction</p> + +<p>Countless millions of women have enjoyed the works of this author. +They are in great demand everywhere. The following list contains her +best work, and is the only authorized edition.</p> + +<p>These stories teem with action, and what is more desirable, they +are clean from start to finish. They are love stories, but are of a +type that is wholesome and totally different from the cheap, sordid +fiction that is being published by unscrupulous publishers.</p> + +<p>There is a surprising variety about Miss Clay’s work. Each book +in this list is sure to give satisfaction.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT</i></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1—In Love’s Crucible</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">2—A Sinful Secret</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">3—Between Two Loves</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">4—A Golden Heart</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">5—Redeemed by Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">6—Between Two Hearts</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">7—Lover and Husband</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">8—The Broken Trust</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">9—For a Woman’s Honor</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">10—A Thorn in Her Heart</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">11—A Nameless Sin</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">12—Gladys Greye</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">13—Her Second Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">14—The Earl’s Atonement</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">15—The Gypsy’s Daughter</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">16—Another Woman’s Husband</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">17—Two Fair Women</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">18—Madolin’s Lover</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">19—A Bitter Reckoning</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">20—Fair But Faithless</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">21—One Woman’s Sin</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">22—A Mad Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">23—Wedded and Parted</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">24—A Woman’s Love Story</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">25—’Twixt Love and Hate</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">26—Guelda</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">27—The Duke’s Secret</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">28—The Mystery of Colde Fell</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">29—Beyond Pardon</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">30—A Hidden Terror</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">31—Repented at Leisure</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">32—Marjorie Deane</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">33—In Shallow Waters</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">34—Diana’s Discipline</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">35—A Heart’s Bitterness</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">36—Her Mother’s Sin</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">37—Thrown on the World</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">38—Lady Damer’s Secret</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">39—A Fiery Ordeal</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">40—A Woman’s Vengeance</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">41—Thorns and Orange Blossoms</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">42—Two Kisses and the Fatal Lilies</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">43—A Coquette’s Conquest</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">44—A Wife’s Judgment</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">45—His Perfect Trust</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">46—Her Martyrdom</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">47—Golden Gates</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">48—Evelyn’s Folly</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">49—Lord Lisle’s Daughter</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">50—A Woman’s Trust</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">51—A Wife’s Peril</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">52—Love in a Mask</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">53—For a Dream’s Sake</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">54—A Dream of Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">55—The Hand Without a Wedding Ring</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">56—The Paths of Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">57—Irene’s Vow</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">58—The Rival Heiresses</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">59—The Squire’s Darling</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">60—Her First Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">61—Another Man’s Wife</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">62—A Bitter Atonement</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">63—Wedded Hands</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">64—The Earl’s Error and Letty Leigh</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">65—Violet Lisle</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">66—A Heart’s Idol</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">67—The Actor’s Ward</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">68—The Belle of Lynn</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">69—A Bitter Bondage</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">70—Dora Thorne</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">71—Claribel’s Love Story</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">72—A Woman’s War</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">73—A Fatal Dower</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">74—A Dark Marriage Morn</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">75—Hilda’s Lover</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">76—One Against Many</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">77—For Another’s Sin</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">78—At War with Herself</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">79—A Haunted Life</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">80—Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">81—Wife in Name Only</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">82—The Sin of a Lifetime</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">83—The World Between Them</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">84—Prince Charlie’s Daughter</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">85—A Struggle for a Ring</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">86—The Shadow of a Sin</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">87—A Rose in Thorns</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">88—The Romance of the Black Veil</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">89—Lord Lynne’s Choice</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">90—The Tragedy of Lime Hall</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">91—James Gordon’s Wife</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">92—Set in Diamonds</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">93—For Life and Love</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">94—How Will It End?</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">95—Love’s Warfare</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">96—The Burden of a Secret</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">97—Griselda</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">98—A Woman’s Witchery</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">99—An Ideal Love</span><br> +100—Lady Marchmont’s Widowhood<br> +101—The Romance of a Young Girl<br> +102—The Price of a Bride<br> +103—If Love Be Love<br> +104—Queen of the County<br> +105—Lady Ethel’s Whim<br> +106—Weaker than a Woman<br> +107—A Woman’s Temptation<br> +108—On Her Wedding Morn<br> +109—A Struggle for the Right<br> +110—Margery Daw<br> +111—The Sins of the Father<br> +112—A Dead Heart<br> +113—Under a Shadow<br> +114—Dream Faces<br> +115—Lord Elesmere’s Wife<br> +116—Blossom and Fruit<br> +117—Lady Muriel’s Secret<br> +118—A Loving Maid<br> +119—Hilary’s Folly<br> +120—Beauty’s Marriage<br> +121—Lady Gwendoline’s Dream<br> +122—A Story of an Error<br> +123—The Hidden Sin<br> +124—Society’s Verdict<br> +125—The Bride from the Sea and Other Stories<br> +126—A Heart of Gold<br> +127—Addie’s Husband and Other Stories<br> +128—Lady Latimer’s Escape<br> +129—A Woman’s Error<br> +130—A Loveless Engagement<br> +131—A Queen Triumphant<br> +132—The Girl of His Heart<br> +133—The Chains of Jealousy<br> +134—A Heart’s Worship<br> +135—The Price of Love<br> +136—A Misguided Love<br> +137—A Wife’s Devotion<br> +138—When Love and Hate Conflict<br> +139—A Captive Heart<br> +140—A Pilgrim of Love<br> +141—A Purchased Love<br> +142—Lost for Love<br> +143—The Queen of His Soul<br> +144—Gladys’ Wedding Day<br> +145—An Untold Passion<br> +146—His Great Temptation<br> +147—A Fateful Passion<br> +148—The Sunshine of His Life<br> +149—On with the New Love<br> +150—An Evil Heart<br> +151—Love’s Redemption<br> +152—The Love of Lady Aurelia<br> +153—The Lost Lady of Haddon<br> +154—Every Inch a Queen<br> +155—A Maid’s Misery<br> +156—A Stolen Heart<br> +157—His Wedded Wife<br> +158—Lady Ona’s Sin<br> +159—A Tragedy of Love and Hate<br> +160—The White Witch<br> +161—Between Love and Ambition<br> +162—True Love’s Reward<br> +163—The Gambler’s Wife<br> +164—An Ocean of Love<br> +165—A Poisoned Heart<br> +166—For Love of Her<br> +167—Paying the Penalty<br> +168—Her Honored Name<br> +169—A Deceptive Lover<br> +170—The Old Love or New?<br> +171—A Coquette’s Victim<br> +172—The Wooing of a Maid<br> +173—A Bitter Courtship<br> +174—Love’s Debt<br> +175—Her Beautiful Foe<br> +176—A Happy Conquest<br> +177—A Soul Ensnared<br> +178—Beyond All Dreams<br> +179—At Her Heart’s Command<br> +180—A Modest Passion<br> +181—The Flower of Love<br> +182—Love’s Twilight<br> +183—Enchained by Passion<br> +184—When Woman Wills<br> +185—Where Love Leads<br> +186—A Blighted Blossom<br> +187—Two Men and a Maid<br> +188—When Love Is Kind<br> +189—Withered Flowers<br> +190—The Unbroken Vow<br> +191—The Love He Spurned<br> +192—Her Heart’s Hero<br> +193—For Old Love’s Sake<br> +194—Fair as a Lily<br> +195—Tender and True<br> +196—What It Cost Her<br> +197—Love Forevermore<br> +198—Can This Be Love?<br> +199—In Spite of Fate<br> +200—Love’s Coronet<br> +201—Dearer Than Life<br> +202—Baffled by Fate<br> +203—The Love that Won<br> +204—In Defiance of Fate<br> +205—A Vixen’s Love<br> +206—Her Bitter Sorrow<br> +207—By Love’s Order<br> +208—The Secret of Estcourt<br> +209—Her Heart’s Surrender<br> +210—Lady Viola’s Secret<br> +211—Strong in Her Love<br> +212—Tempted to Forget<br> +213—With Love’s Strong Bonds<br> +214—Love, the Avenger<br> +215—Under Cupid’s Seal<br> +216—The Love that Blinds<br> +217—Love’s Crown Jewel<br> +218—Wedded at Dawn<br> +219—For Her Heart’s Sake<br> +220—Fettered for Life<br> +221—Beyond the Shadow<br> +222—A Heart Forlorn<br> +223—The Bride of the Manor<br> +224—For Lack of Gold<br> +225—Sweeter than Life<br> +226—Loved and Lost<br> +227—The Tie that Binds<br> +228—Answered in Jest<br> +229—What the World Said<br> +230—When Hot Tears Flow<br> +231—In a Siren’s Web<br> +232—With Love at the Helm<br> +233—The Wiles of Love<br> +234—Sinner or Victim?<br> +235—When Cupid Frowns<br> +236—A Shattered Romance<br> +237—A Woman of Whims<br> +238—Love Hath Wings<br> +239—A Love in the Balance<br> +240—Two True Hearts<br> +241—A Daughter of Eve<br> +242—Love Grown Cold<br> +243—The Lure of the Flame<br> +244—A Wild Rose<br> +245—At Love’s Fountain<br> +246—An Exacting Love<br> +247—An Ardent Wooing<br> +248—Toward Love’s Goal<br> +249—New Love or Old?<br> +250—One of Love’s Slaves<br> +251—Hester’s Husband<br> +252—On Love’s Highway<br> +253—He Dared to Love<br> +254—Humbled Pride<br> +255—Love’s Caprice<br> +256—A Cruel Revenge<br> +257—Her Struggle with Love<br> +258—Her Heart’s Problem<br> +259—In Love’s Bondage<br> +260—A Child of Caprice<br> +261—An Elusive Lover<br> +262—A Captive Fairy<br> +263—Love’s Burden<br> +264—A Crown of Faith<br> +265—Love’s Harsh Mandate<br> +266—The Harvest of Sin<br> +267—Love’s Carnival<br> +268—A Secret Sorrow<br> +269—True to His First Love<br> +270—Beyond Atonement<br> +271—Love Finds a Way<br> +272—A Girl’s Awakening<br> +273—In Quest of Love<br> +274—The Hero of Her Dreams<br> +275—Only a Flirt<br> +276—The Hour of Temptation<br> +277—Suffered in Silence<br> +278—Love and the World<br> +279—Love’s Sweet Hour<br> +280—Faithful and True<br> +281—Sunshine and Shadow<br> +282—For Love or Wealth?<br> +283—Love of His Youth<br> +284—Cast Upon His Care<br> +285—All Else Forgot<br> +286—When Hearts Are Young<br> +287—Her Love and His<br> +288—Her Sacred Trust<br> +289—While the World Scoffed<br> +</p> + +<p>In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that +the books listed below will be issued during the respective months in +New York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a +distance promptly, on account of delays in transportation.</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published In July, 1926.</p> + +<p> +290—The Heart of His Heart<br> +291—With Heart and Voice<br> +</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in August, 1926.</p> + +<p> +292—Outside Love’s Door<br> +293—For His Love’s Sake<br> +</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in September, 1926</p> + +<p> +294—And This Is Love!<br> +295—When False Tongues Speak<br> +</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in October, 1926.</p> + +<p> +296—That Plain Little Girl<br> +297—A Daughter of Misfortune<br> +</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in November, 1926.</p> + +<p> +298—The Quest of His Heart<br> +299—Adrift on Love’s Tide<br> +</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in December, 1926.</p> + +<p> +300—Suffered in Vain<br> +301—Her Heart’s Delight<br> +302—A Love Victorious<br> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> + +<p class="center medium">ROMANCES THAT PLEASE MILLIONS</p> +</div> + +<h2>The Love Story Library</h2> + +<p class="center medium">ALL BY RUBY M. AYRES</p> + +<p class="center medium"><i>This Popular Writer’s Favorites</i></p> + + +<p>There is unusual charm and fascination about the love stories +of Ruby M. Ayres that give her writings a universal appeal. +Probably there is no other romantic writer whose books are enjoyed +by such a wide audience of readers. Her stories have genuine +feeling and sentiment, and this quality makes them liked by +those who appreciate the true romantic spirit. In this low-priced +series, a choice selection of Miss Ayres’ best stories is offered.</p> + +<p>In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that +the books listed below will be issued during the respective months +in New York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers +at a distance promptly, on account of delays in transportation.</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in July, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Is Love Worth While?</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Black Sheep</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in August, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">3</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Waif’s Wedding</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">4</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Woman Hater</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">5</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Story of an Ugly Man</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in September, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">6</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Beggar Man</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Long Lane to Happiness</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in October, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">8</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dream Castles</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Highest Bidder</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in November, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">10</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love and a Lie</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">11</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love of Robert Dennison</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in December, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">12</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Man of His Word</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">13</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Master Man</td><td class="tdr">By Ruby M. Ayres</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2>SUFFERED IN VAIN</h2> + +<p class="center small p2">OR,</p> + +<p class="center medium p2">A PLAYTHING OF FATE</p> + +<p class="center p2"><span class="small">BY</span><br> +<span class="medium">BERTHA M. CLAY</span></p> + +<p class="center small"> +Whose complete works will be published in this, the +<span class="smcap">New Bertha Clay Library</span></p> + +<p class="p2"> </p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp60" id="i007" style="max-width: 8em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i007.jpg" alt="S AND S NOVELS"> +</figure> + +<p class="center p2 small"> +Printed in the U. S. A.</p> + +<p class="center p2"> +STREET & SMITH CORPORATION<br> +PUBLISHERS<br> +79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York<br> +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUFFERED_IN_VAIN">SUFFERED IN VAIN.</h2> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<p class="center"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. A SINGULAR WILL.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. CAPTAIN DESFRAYNE’S PERPLEXITY.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. LOIS TURQUAND’S EMBARRASSMENT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. LOIS TURQUAND’S ALTERED FORTUNE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. A TRIPLE BONDAGE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. PAUL’S GALLING SHACKLES.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. AN UNINTENTIONAL CUT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. THE NEW VALET.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. PLAYING AT CROSS-PURPOSES.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. BUILDING ON SAND.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. PAUL DESFRAYNE’S WIFE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. THE PRIMA DONNA’S HATE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. PAUL DESFRAYNE’S CONFESSION.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. FRANK AMBERLEY’S EXULTATION.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. THE MISTRESS OF FLORE HALL.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. GILARDONI’S LOVE-GIFT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. IN THE THUNDER-STORM.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. PAUL DESFRAYNE’S REFLECTIONS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. BLANCHE DORMER’S SURPRISE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. THE BREAK OF DAWN.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. LEONARDO GILARDONI’S STORY.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. A VISION OF FREEDOM.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE EXPRESS TO LONDON.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. FRANK AMBERLEY’S ADVICE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. THE FIGURE ROBED IN BLACK.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S DIAMOND RING.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. FRANK AMBERLEY’S MISSION.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. THE INLAID CABINET.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. DEFIANCE, NOT DEFENSE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. FREE AT LAST.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. LUCIA’S TEARS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S MADNESS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SOUND OF WEDDING-BELLS.</a><br> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A SINGULAR WILL.</p> + + +<p>Always more or less subdued in tone and tranquil of +aspect, the eminently genteel Square of Porchester is, +perhaps, seen in its most benign mood in the gently falling +shadows of a summer’s twilight.</p> + +<p>The tall houses begin slowly, very slowly, to twinkle +with a glowworm irradiance from the drawing-rooms to +the apartments on the upper floors as the darkness increases. +From the open windows float the glittering +strains of Gounod, Offenbach, Hervé, fluttering down +over the flower-wreathed balconies into the silent street +beneath, each succession of chords tumbling like so many +fairies intoxicated with the spirit of music. At not infrequent +intervals, sparkling broughams whirl past, carrying +ladies arrayed obviously for dinner-party, soirée, or +opera, in gay toilets, only half-concealed by the loose +folds of soft wraps.</p> + +<p>At the moment the curtain rises, two persons of the +drama occupy this stage.</p> + +<p>One is an individual of a peculiarly unattractive exterior—a +man of probably some two or three and thirty +years of age—a foreigner, by his appearance. It would +have been difficult to tell whether recent illness or absolute +want had made his not unhandsome face so white and +pinched, and caused the shabby garments to hang about +his tall, well-knit figure. Seemingly, he was one of those +most forlorn of creatures—a domestic servant out of +employ.</p> + +<p>The expression on his countenance just now, as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> +leaned against the iron railings of the enclosure, almost +concealed behind a doctor’s brougham which awaited its +master, was not pleasant to regard. Following the direction +of his fixed stare, the eye was led to a superbly beautiful +woman, sitting half-within the French window of a +drawing-room opposite, half-out upon the balcony, among +some clustering flowers.</p> + +<p>This woman was undoubtedly quite unconscious of the +steady attention bestowed upon her by the solitary being, +only distant from her presence by a few feet. She was +a young woman of about three-and-twenty—an Italian, +judging by her general aspect—attired in a rich costume, +lavishly trimmed with black lace. A white lace shawl, +lightly thrown over her shoulders, permitted only gracious +and flowing outlines to reveal themselves; but her supremely +lovely face, the masses of coiled and plaited +hair, dark as night, stray diamond stars gleaming here +and there, the glowing complexion, the sleepy, long, silk, +soft lashes, resting upon cheeks which might be described +as “peachlike,” the crimson lips, the delicately rounded +chin, the perfect, shell-like ears, made up an ensemble +of haunting beauty that, once seen, could never be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Of the vicinity, much less of the rapt gaze of the wayfarer +lingering yonder, she was profoundly ignorant, +her attention being entirely occupied by a written sheet +of paper, held between her slender white fingers. This +she was apparently studying with absorbed interest.</p> + +<p>The loiterer clenched his fist, malignant hate wrinkling +his care-worn face, and made a gesture, betraying the +most intense anger toward the imperial creature in the +amber and black draperies.</p> + +<p>“So, Madam Lucia Guiscardini,” he muttered, under +his breath, “you bask up there, in your beauty and your +finery, like some sleek, treacherous cat! Beautiful signora, +if I had a pistol now, I could shoot you dead, without +leaving you a moment to think upon your sins. Your +sins! and they say you are one of the best and noblest +of women—those who do not know your cold and cruel +heart, snow-plumaged swan of Firenze! How can it be +that I could ever have loved you so wildly—that I could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +have knelt down to kiss the ground upon which your +dainty step had trod? Were you the same—was I the +same? Has all the world changed since those days?</p> + +<p>“I have suffered cold and hunger, sickness and pain, +weariness of body, anguish of mind, while you have been +lapped in luxury. You have been gently borne about in +your carriage, wrapped in velvets and furs, or satins and +laces, while I—I have passed through the rain-sodden +streets with scarcely a shoe to my foot. They say you +refused, in your pride, to marry a Russian prince the +other day. All the world marveled at your insolent +caprice. I wonder what you think of me, or if you ever +honor me with a flying recollection? Am I the one drop +of gall in your cup of nectar, or have you forgotten me?”</p> + +<p>A quick, firm step startled the tranquil echoes of the +square, and made this fellow glance about with the vague +sense of ever-recurring alarm which poverty and distress +engender in those unaccustomed to the companionship of +such dismal comrades.</p> + +<p>The instant he descried the person approaching, his +countenance changed. He cast down his fierce, keen +eyes, and an expression of humility replaced the glare +of vindictive bitterness that had previously rendered his +visage anything but pleasant to look upon.</p> + +<p>This third personage of the drama was one, in appearance, +worthy to take the part of hero. He was, perhaps, +about thirty years old, with a noble presence, a fair and +frank face, though one clouded by a strange shadow of +mysterious care ever brooding. The face attracted at +once, and inspired a wish to know something more of +the soul looking through those bright, half-sadly smiling +violet eyes as from the windows of a prison.</p> + +<p>The forlorn watcher next the iron railings left his post +of stealthy observation on seeing this gentleman, and, +crossing, so as to intercept him, stood in the middle of +the pavement in such a way as to abruptly bar the passage.</p> + +<p>The large kindly eyes, which had been cast down, as +if indifferent to all outward things, and engaged in painful +introspection, were suddenly raised with a flash of +displeased surprise.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> + +<p>“Sir,” began the poor lounger deprecatingly, half-unconsciously +clasping his meager hands, and speaking almost +in the voice of a supplicant, “Captain Desfrayne, +forgive me for daring to address you; but——”</p> + +<p>“You are a stranger to me, although you seem acquainted +with my name,” the gentleman said, scanning +him with a keen glance. “I don’t know that I have ever +seen you before. What do you want? By your accent, +you appear to be an Italian.”</p> + +<p>“I am so, captain. I did not know you were coming +this way, nor did I know you were in London. I have +only this moment seen you, as you turned into the square; +or I—I thought—for I know you, though perhaps you +may never have noticed me—I knew of old that you have +a kind and tender heart, and I thought—— Sir, I am a +bad hand at begging; but I am sorely, bitterly in need of +help.”</p> + +<p>“Of help?” repeated Captain Desfrayne, still looking at +him attentively. “Of what kind of help?”</p> + +<p>Those bright eyes saw, although he asked the question, +that the man required succor in any and in every shape.</p> + +<p>“Sir, when I knew you, about three years ago, I was +in the service of the Count di Venosta, at Padua, as +valet.”</p> + +<p>“I knew the count well, though I have no recollection +of you,” said Captain Desfrayne. “Go on.”</p> + +<p>“He died about a year and a half ago. I nursed him +through his last illness, and caught the fever of which +he died. I had a little money—my savings—to live on +for a while; but all is gone now, and I don’t know which +way to turn, or whither to look for another situation. It +was with the hope of finding some friends that I came +to London; I might as well be in the Great Desert.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt your story is perfectly true; but I +don’t see what I can do for you,” Captain Desfrayne +said, with some pity. “However, I will consider, and, if +you like to come and see me to-morrow, perhaps I—— +What is your name?”</p> + +<p>“Leonardo Gilardoni, sir.”</p> + +<p>The hungry, eager eyes watched as Captain Desfrayne<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +took a note-book from his pocket and scribbled down the +name, adding a brief memorandum besides.</p> + +<p>The sound of these men’s voices speaking just beneath +her window had failed to attract the attention of the +beautiful creature in the balcony. But now, when a +sudden silence succeeded, she looked over from an undefined +feeling of half-unconscious interest or curiosity.</p> + +<p>As she glanced carelessly down at the two figures, the +expression on her face utterly changed. The great eyes, +the hue of black velvet, opened widely, as if from terror, +or an astonishment too stupendous to be controlled. For +a moment she seemed unable to withdraw her gaze, fascinated, +apparently.</p> + +<p>The little white hands were fiercely clenched; and if +glances could kill, those two men would have rapidly +traversed the valley of the shadow of death.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, glances, however baleful, fall harmless as +summer lightning; and the interlocutors remained happily +ignorant of the absorbed attention wherewith they +were favored.</p> + +<p>In a moment or two she rose, and, standing just within +the room, clutching the curtain with a half-convulsive +grip, peered down malevolently into the street.</p> + +<p>“What can have brought these two men here together?” +she muttered. “Do they come to seek me? I did not +know they were conscious of one another’s existence. +What are they doing? Why are they here? Accursed +be the day I ever saw the face of either!”</p> + +<p>The visage, so wondrously beautiful in repose, looked +almost hideous thus distorted by fury.</p> + +<p>She saw Captain Desfrayne put his little note-book +back in his pocket, and then heard him say:</p> + +<p>“If you will come to me about—say, six or seven +o’clock to-morrow evening, at my chambers in”—she +missed the name of the street and the number, though +she craned her white throat forward eagerly—“I will +speak further to you. Do not come before that time, as +I shall be absent all day.”</p> + +<p>With swift, compassionate fingers he dropped a piece +of gold into the thin hand of the unhappy, friendless man +before him, and then moved, as if to continue his way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p> + +<p>The superb creature above craned out her head as far +as she dared, to watch the two. Captain Desfrayne, however, +seemed to be the personage she was specially desirous +of following with her keen glances. To her amazement +and evident consternation, he walked up to the immediately +adjacent house, and rang the bell. The door +opened, and he disappeared.</p> + +<p>The shabby, half-slouching figure of the supplicant for +help shuffled off in the other direction, toward Westbourne +Grove, and vanished from out the square.</p> + +<p>Releasing her grip of the draperies hanging by the +window, the proud and insolent beauty began walking up +and down the room, flinging away the paper from which +she had been studying.</p> + +<p>She looked like some handsome tigress, cramped up in +a gilded cage, as she paced to and fro, her dress trailing +along the carpet in rich and massive folds. Some almost +ungovernable fit of passion appeared to have seized upon +her, and she gave way to her impulses as a hot, undisciplined +nature might yield.</p> + +<p>There was a strange kind of contrast between the feline +grace of her movements, the faultless elegance of +her perfect toilet, the splendor of her beauty, and the +untutored violence of her manner.</p> + +<p>“What do they want here?” she asked, half-aloud. +“Why do they come here, plotting under my windows? +Do they defy me? Do they hope to crush me? What +has Paul Desfrayne to complain of? I defy him, as I +do Leonardo Gilardoni! Let them do their worst! +What are they going to do? Has Leonardo Gilardoni +found any—any——”</p> + +<p>She started back and looked round with a guilty terror, +as if she dared not think out the half-spoken surmise +even to herself.</p> + +<p>“He knows nothing—he can know nothing; and he +has no longer any hold on me,” she muttered presently; +“unless—unless the other has told him; and I don’t believe +he would trust a fellow like <i>him</i>: for Paul Desfrayne +is as proud as Lucifer. Oh, if I could but live +my life over again! What mistakes—what fatal mistakes +I have made—mistakes which may yet bring ruin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +as their fruit! I will leave England to-morrow. I don’t +care what they say, or think, or what loss it may cost +to myself or any one else. Yet, am I safer elsewhere? I +know not. What would be the consequences if they +could prove I had done what I have done? I know not; +I have never had the courage to ask.”</p> + +<p>Totally unconscious of the vicinity of this beautiful, +vindictive woman, Captain Desfrayne tranquilly passed +into the house which he had come to visit.</p> + +<p>“Can I see Mrs. Desfrayne?” he inquired of the smart +maid servant who answered his summons.</p> + +<p>“I will see, sir. She was at dinner, sir, and I don’t +think she has gone out yet.”</p> + +<p>The beribboned and pretty girl, throwing open the +door of a room at hand, and ushering the visitor within, +left him alone, while she flitted off in search of the lady +for whom he had asked, not, however, without taking a +sidelong glance at his handsome face before she disappeared.</p> + +<p>The apartment was a long dining-room, extending +from the front to the back of the house, furnished amply, +yet with a certain richness, the articles being all of old +oak, carved elaborately, which lent a somber, somewhat +stately effect. It was obviously, however, a room in a +semifashionable boarding-house.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes a lady opened the door, and entered +with the joyous eagerness of a girl.</p> + +<p>A graceful, dignified woman, in reality seventeen years +older than Captain Desfrayne, but who looked hardly +five years his senior, of the purest type of English matronly +beauty. She seemed like one of Reynolds’ or +Gainsborough’s most exquisite portraits warmed into life, +just alighted from its canvas. The soft, blond hair, the +clear, roselike complexion, the large, half-melting violet +eyes, the smiling mouth, with its dimples playing at hide-and-seek, +the perfectly chiseled nose, the dainty, rounded +chin, the patrician figure, so classically molded that it +drew away attention from the fact that every little detail +of the apparently little-studied yet careful toilet was finished +to the most refined nicety—these hastily noted points<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +could scarce give any conception of the almost dazzling +loveliness of Paul Desfrayne’s widowed mother.</p> + +<p>She entered with a light, quick step, and being met +almost as she crossed the threshold by her visitor, she +raised her white hands, sparkling with rings, and drew +down his head with an ineffably tender and loving touch.</p> + +<p>“My boy—my own Paul,” she half-cooed, kissing his +forehead. “This is, indeed, an unexpected pleasure. I +did not even know that you were in London.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the young man seemed about to return +his mother’s caress; but he did not do so.</p> + +<p>She crossed to the window, and placing a second chair, +as she seated herself, desired Paul to take it.</p> + +<p>There was a positive pleasure in observing the movements +of this perfectly graceful woman. She seemed the +embodiment of a soft, sweet strain of music; every gesture, +every fold of her draperies was at once so natural, +yet so absolutely harmonious, that it was impossible to +suggest an alteration for the better.</p> + +<p>“I supposed you to be settled for a time in Paris,” Mrs. +Desfrayne said, as her son did not appear inclined to take +the lead in the impending dialogue, but accepted his chair +in almost moody silence.</p> + +<p>“I should have written to you, mother; but I thought +I should most probably arrive as soon, or perhaps even +precede my letter,” replied Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“You look anxious and a little worried. Has unpleasant +business brought you back? You have not obtained +the appointment to the French embassy for which you +were looking?”</p> + +<p>“No. I am anxious, undoubtedly; but I suppose I +ought not to say I am worried, though I find myself +placed in a most remarkable, and—what shall I say?—delicate +position. Yesterday I received a letter, and I +came at once to consult you, with the hope that you +might be able to give me some good advice. I fear I +have called at rather an unreasonable hour?”</p> + +<p>A tenderly reproachful glance seemed to assure him +that no hour could be unreasonable that brought his +ever-welcome presence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p>“I will advise you to the best of my ability, my dear,” +Mrs. Desfrayne smilingly said. “What has happened?”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne drew a letter from the pocket of the +light coat which he had thrown over his evening dress, +and looked at it for a moment or two in silence, as if at +a loss how to introduce its evidently embarrassing contents.</p> + +<p>His mother watched him with undisguised anxiety, her +brilliant eyes half-veiled by the blue-veined lids.</p> + +<p>“This letter,” Paul at length said, “is from a legal +firm. It refers to a person whom I had some difficulty +in recalling to mind, and places me in a most embarrassing +position toward another person whom I have never +seen.”</p> + +<p>“A situation certainly indicating a promise of some +perplexity,” Mrs. Desfrayne half-laughingly remarked.</p> + +<p>“Some years ago,” Paul continued, “there lived an old +man—he was an iron-dealer originally, or something of +that sort—a person in a very humble rank of life; but +somehow he contrived to make an enormous fortune. +He has, in fact, left the sum of nearly three hundred +thousand pounds.”</p> + +<p>“To you?” demanded Mrs. Desfrayne, in a thrilling +tone, not as if she believed such to be the case; for her +son’s accent scarcely warranted such an assumption; but +as if the wish was father to the thought.</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Not to me—to some young girl he took an interest in, +as far as I can understand. I happened to render him a +slight service—I hardly remembered it now—some insignificant +piece of civility or kindness. It seems he entertained +a great respect for me, and attributed the rise +of his wealth to me. This young girl—I don’t know +whether she was related to him or not—has been left the +sole, or nearly the sole, inheritor of his money, and +I——”</p> + +<p>“And you, Paul?”</p> + +<p>“Have been nominated her trustee and sole executor +by his will. I believe he has bequeathed me some few +thousands, as a remuneration for my trouble.”</p> + +<p>The slight tinge of pinky color on the cheeks of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +beautiful Mrs. Desfrayne deepened visibly, although she +sat with her back to the window.</p> + +<p>“How old is the young lady?” she asked, in a subdued +tone.</p> + +<p>“Eighteen or nineteen.”</p> + +<p>“Is she—has she any father or mother?”</p> + +<p>“Both are dead. She is, I understand, alone in the +world.”</p> + +<p>“Have you seen her?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what she is like?”</p> + +<p>“I am as ignorant of everything concerning her, personally, +as you are yourself, mother.”</p> + +<p>“Is she pretty?”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s face hardened almost to sternness +and his eyes drooped.</p> + +<p>“I have already told you, mother mine, that I know +nothing whatever about her. If you will take the trouble +to glance over this letter, you will learn as much as I +know myself. I have nothing more to tell you than what +is written therein.”</p> + +<p>The dainty fingers trembled slightly as they were +quickly stretched forth to receive the missive, which Paul +took from its legal-looking envelope.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne ran rapidly over the contents, and +then read it through more slowly a second time.</p> + +<p>It purported to be from Messrs. Salmon, Joyner & +Joyner, the eminent firm of solicitors in Alderman’s +Lane, and requested Captain Desfrayne to favor them +with a call at his earliest convenience, as they wished to +go over the will of Mr. Vere Gardiner, iron-founder, +lately deceased, who had appointed him—Captain Desfrayne—sole +trustee to the chief legatee, an orphan girl +of nineteen, sole executor to the estate, which was valued +at about two hundred and sixty thousand pounds, and +legatee to the amount of ten thousand pounds. The +letter added that Mr. Vere Gardiner had expressed a profound +respect for Captain Desfrayne, and had several +times declared that he owed his uprise in life to a special +act of kindness received from him.</p> + +<p>“How very extraordinary!” Mrs. Desfrayne softly exclaimed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +at length. “He scarcely knew you, yet trusts +this young girl and her large fortune to your sole charge. +Flattering, but, as you say, embarrassing. Two hundred +and sixty thousand pounds!” she murmured. “A girl +of nineteen. If she is a beauty”—she slightly shrugged +her dimpled shoulders—“your position will be an onerous +one, indeed.”</p> + +<p>“They might as well have asked me to play keeper to a +white elephant,” the young man said, with some acerbity. +“I will have nothing to do with it.”</p> + +<p>“Do not be too hasty. Probably this person had good +reason for what he has done. Besides, you would be +foolish to refuse so handsome a present as you are promised; +for we cannot conceal from ourselves that ten thousand +pounds would be a very acceptable gift.”</p> + +<p>“If a free one, yes; if burdened with unpleasant conditions, +why, there might be difference of opinion. I had +almost made up my mind to decline at once and for all; +but I thought it would be more prudent to consult you +first.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Paul, I feel—I will not say flattered, but I +thank you very much for your kind estimation of my +judgment. All I can say is: Go and see what these +lawyers have to say. Then, if they do not succeed in +inducing you to receive the trust, see the girl, and judge +for yourself what would be best. Perhaps she has no +friend but you, and she might run the risk of losing her +fortune. Perhaps she is sorely in need of some protector—perhaps +even of money. Where does she live?”</p> + +<p>“As I told you before,” Captain Desfrayne replied, with +more asperity than seemed at all necessary under the +circumstances, “I did not know even of her existence +before receiving that letter, and I now know not one +solitary fact more than you do. I know nothing of the +girl, or of her money. I do not wish to know; I take +no interest, and I don’t want to take any interest now, or +in the future.”</p> + +<p>“But it is foolish to refuse to perform a duty when +you are so entirely ignorant of the reasons why this +money has been thrown into your keeping,” urged Mrs. +Desfrayne gently.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> + +<p>“If I refuse, I suppose the Court of Chancery will find +somebody more capable, and certainly may easily find +some one more willing than myself,” Captain Desfrayne +said, almost irritably.</p> + +<p>“If it had been a boy, instead of a girl, would you have +been so reluctant?” asked Mrs. Desfrayne, smiling mischievously.</p> + +<p>“That has nothing to do with it. I have to deal with +the matter as it now exists, not as it might have been.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne glanced at her son from beneath the +long, silken lashes that half-concealed her great blue +eyes. It seemed so strange to hear that musical voice, +which for nine-and-twenty or thirty years had been as +soft and sweet to her ears, as if incapable of one jangled +note, fall into that odd, irritable discordance.</p> + +<p>Paul was out of sorts and out of humor, she could see. +Was he telling her <i>all</i> the truth?</p> + +<p>Never, in all those years of his life, most of which +had passed under her own vision, had he uttered, looked, +or even seemed to harbor one thought that he was not +ready and willing for his mother to take cognizance of. +Why, then, this possible reticence, blowing across their +lifelong confidence like the bitter northeast wind ruffling +over clear water, turning its surface into a fragile +veil of ice?</p> + +<p>The young man was out of humor, for his meeting with +the fellow whom he had just encountered almost on the +threshold of the house had brought up many recollections +he would fain have banished—memories of a time he +would gladly have erased from the pages of his life—a +time whereof his mother knew nothing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne, however, shot very wide of the mark +when she ascribed his alteration of look and manner to +some foreknowledge of the girl in question. He spoke +nothing but the truth in saying that he had never as much +as heard of her before receiving the letter that lay +between his mother’s fingers.</p> + +<p>With the electric sympathy of strong mutual affection, +Paul Desfrayne quickly perceived the ill effect his coldness +had upon his mother; and with an effort he cleared<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> +his countenance, and assumed a shadow of his formerly +smiling aspect. He looked down, and appeared to consider. +Then, raising his eyes to those of his mother, he +said, with an air of resignation:</p> + +<p>“I suppose it would be best to see the lawyers, and +hear what they have to say. It is a most intolerable +bore. I don’t know what I have done to merit being +visited for my sins in this fashion.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t remember what you happened to do for +this eccentrically disposed old man?”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“A remarkably simple matter, when all is said and +done. I was traveling once with him, as well as I can +remember, and he began talking to me about some wonderful +invention he had just brought to perfection. He +was in what I supposed to be rather cramped circumstances, +though not an absolutely poor man, for he was +traveling first-class. I should not have thought about +him at all, only, with the enthusiasm of an inventor, he +persisted in bothering me about this thing.</p> + +<p>“I thought at the time it was deserving of notice; and +when he alighted, I happened to almost tumble into the +arms of the very man who had it in his power to get the +affair into use and practise. More to get rid of him than +for any more worthy motive, I introduced the two to +each other. It was something this old Vere Gardiner +had invented, for some kind of machinery, which, if +adopted by the government, would save—I really forget +how much. I recollect asking this friend, some time +after, if he had done anything about it, and he told me +it would probably make the fortune of half a dozen +people. He seemed delighted with the old man and his +invention.</p> + +<p>“This must be the service he made so much of. It was +a service costing me just five or six sentences. I did +not even stop to see what Percival, this friend, thought +of old Gardiner, or what he thought of Percival; but left +them talking together in the waiting-room, for I was in +a desperate hurry to reach you, mother. I never anticipated +hearing of the affair again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> + +<p>There was a brief silence.</p> + +<p>“This man, it is to be presumed, was of humble birth,” +said Mrs. Desfrayne. “It will be too dreadful if, with +the irony of blind fate, this girl proves unpresentable. +In that case—at nineteen—it will be too late to mend +her manners, or her education. Perhaps she has some +frightfully appalling cognomen, which will render it a +martyrdom to present her in society. If she is anything +of a hobgoblin, you may with justice talk of a white +elephant.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there is no clause in the criminal code +whereby I may be compelled to accept the trust if I do +not elect voluntarily to undertake it?” Captain Desfrayne +asked, with a slight smile at his mother’s fastidious alarm. +“And if she is nineteen now, I suppose my responsibility +would cease in two years?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps. Some crotchety old men make very singular +wills. I wonder how it happened that he had no +business friend in whom he could confide?—why he must +choose a stranger, and entrust to that stranger such a +large sum? I wish I knew what the girl’s name is, and +what she is like, and what possible position she may +occupy? For if you receive the trust, I presume I shall +have the felicity of playing the part of chaperon.”</p> + +<p>“It is perfectly useless discussing the matter until we +know something more certain,” Captain Desfrayne said, +his irritation again displaying itself unaccountably.</p> + +<p>“One cannot help surmising, my dearest Paul. Perhaps +the girl is a nursemaid, or a milliner’s apprentice, +and misuses her aspirates, and is a budding Malaprop,” +Mrs. Desfrayne persisted. “However, we shall see. Go +with me this evening to the opera, if you have nothing +better to do. Lady Quaintree has lent me her box.”</p> + +<p>As she was folding her opera-cloak about her youthful-looking +person the good lady said to herself:</p> + +<p>“There is some mystery here; but of what kind? Paul +is not quite his own frank self. What has happened? +He has kept something from me. I could not help fancying +something occurred during his absence in Venice three +years ago. I wonder if he knows more about this girl,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> +the fortunate legatee of the eccentric old iron-founder, +than he chooses to acknowledge? But he must have +some most powerful reason to induce him to hide anything +from me; and he said twice most distinctly that he +had never seen her and did not know her name. I do +not believe Paul could be guilty of deceit.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">CAPTAIN DESFRAYNE’S PERPLEXITY.</p> + + +<p>The midday sun made an abortive effort to struggle +down between the tall rows of houses on either side of +busy, hurrying Alderman’s Lane, glinting here and glancing +there, showering royal largesse.</p> + +<p>The big building devoted to the offices of Messrs. Salmon, +Joyner & Joyner was lying completely bathed in +the golden radiance; for it occupied the corner, where +the opening of a street running transverse allowed the +glorious beams to descend unimpeded.</p> + +<p>A great barracklike edifice, more like a bank than a +lawyer’s city abode. A wide flight of steps led up to a +handsome swing door, on which a brightly burnished plate +blazoned forth the name of the firm. This opened upon +an oblong hall, in which were posted two doleful-looking +boys, each immured in a kind of walled-off cell; a spacious +staircase ran from this hall to a succession of +small, cell-like apartments, all furnished in as frugal a +manner as was compatible with use; a long table, covered +with piles of papers of various descriptions; three or +four hard chairs; a bookcase crammed with tall books +bound in vellum, and morose-looking tin deed-boxes labeled +with names.</p> + +<p>In one of these dim, uninviting cells sat a gentleman, +apparently quite at ease, his employment at the moment +the scene draws back and reveals him to view being the +leisurely perusal of the <i>Times</i>; a man of perhaps the +same age as Captain Desfrayne—a pleasant, grave-looking +gentleman, with kindly dark eyes, a carefully trimmed +dark-brown beard, a pale complexion, and a symmetrical +figure.</p> + +<p>One of the melancholy walled-in youths suddenly appeared +to disturb the half-dreamy studies of this serene +personage.</p> + +<p>Throwing open the door, he announced:</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p> + +<p>The captain walked in, and the door was shut.</p> + +<p>The occupant of the apartment had risen as the youth +ushered in the visitor, and advanced the few steps the +limited space permitted, smiling with a peculiarly winning +expression.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Amberley?” questioned Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“I have called,” he went on, as the owner of that name +bowed assentingly, “in obedience to a letter received by +me from Messrs. Salmon, Joyner & Joyner.”</p> + +<p>He threw upon the table the letter he had shown to +his mother, and then seated himself, as Mr. Amberley +signed for him to do.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amberley, in spite of the latent smile in his dark +eyes, seemed to be a man inclined to let other people +save him the trouble of talking if they felt so disposed. +He took up the letter, extracted it from its envelope, and +unfolded it.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Salmon and Mr. Willis Joyner wished to meet +you, together with myself,” he remarked, “but were +obliged to attend another appointment. In the meantime, +before you can see them, I shall be happy to afford you +all necessary explanations.”</p> + +<p>“Which I very much need, for I am unpleasantly mystified. +In the first place, I am at a loss to comprehend +why this client of yours should have selected me as the +person to whom he chose to confide so vast a trust,” Captain +Desfrayne replied, in a tone almost bordering on ill +humor.</p> + +<p>“I am quite aware of the fact that you were not a +personal friend of Mr. Vere Gardiner,” said the lawyer. +“He trusted scarcely any one. I believe he entertained +a painfully low estimate of the goodness or honesty of +the majority of people. Of his particular object in giving +this property into your care, I am unable to enlighten +you. I know that he took a great interest in you; and +as he frequently sojourned in the places where you happened +to be staying, I have no doubt he had every opportunity +of becoming acquainted with as much as he +wished to learn of—of—— In fact, I have no grounds +beyond such observations as may have been made before +me for judging that he did take an interest in you. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +you are surprised by the circumstance of his appointing +you to such a post, I think you will probably be infinitely +more so when you hear the contents of the will.”</p> + +<p>He rose, and took from an iron safe a piece of folded +parchment, which he spread open before him on his +desk.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne said nothing, but eyed the portentous +document with an odd glance.</p> + +<p>“The history of this will is perhaps a curious one,” Mr. +Frank Amberley resumed. “Mr. Vere Gardiner was, +when a young man, very deeply attached to a young person +in his own rank of life, whom he wished to marry. +She, however, preferred another, and refused the offers +of Mr. Gardiner. He never married. In a few years +she was left a widow. He again renewed his offer, and +was again refused. He was very urgent; and, to avoid +him, she changed her residence several times. The consequence +was, he lost sight of her. He became a wealthy +man, chiefly, he always declared, through your instrumentality. +After this he found this person—when he +had, so to speak, become a man of fortune—again renewed +his offer of marriage, and was again refused as +firmly as before. She had one child, a daughter.”</p> + +<p>The lawyer turned to look for some papers, which he +did not succeed in finding, and, having made a search, +turned back again.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne made no remark whatever.</p> + +<p>“He offered to do anything, or to help this Mrs. Turquand +in any way she would allow him: to put the child +to school, or—— In fact, his offers were most generous. +But she persistently shunned him, and refused to +listen to anything he had to say. He lost sight of her for +some years before his death, and did not even know +whether she was living or dead.</p> + +<p>“It was accidentally through—through me,” the lawyer +continued, speaking with a visible effort, as if somewhat +overmastered by an emotion inexplicable under the +circumstances—“it was through me that he learned of +the death of the mother and the whereabouts of the +daughter.”</p> + +<p>“The latter being, I presume, the young lady whom he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +has been kind enough to commit to my care?” Captain +Desfrayne asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amberley twirled an ivory paper-cutter about for +a moment or two before replying.</p> + +<p>“Precisely so. I happen to be acquainted with—with +the young lady; and he one day mentioned her name, +and said how anxious he was to find her. I volunteered +to introduce her to him; but he was then ill, and the +interview was deferred. He went to Nice, the place +where Mrs. Turquand had died, and drew his last breath +in the very house where she had been staying. In accordance +with his dying wishes, he was buried close by +the spot where she was laid. The will was drawn up a +few weeks before he quitted England.”</p> + +<p>“I certainly wish he had selected any one rather than +myself for this onerous trust,” Captain Desfrayne said, +with some irritation. “What is the young lady’s name? +Miss Turquand?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Amberley hesitated, took up the will, and laid it +down again; then took it up, and placed it before Captain +Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“If you will read that, you will learn all you require +to know,” he replied, without looking up.</p> + +<p>He had been perfectly right in remarking that, if Captain +Desfrayne had felt surprised before, he would be +doubly astonished when he came to read Mr. Vere Gardiner’s +will.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne was fairly astounded, and could +scarcely believe that he read aright. The sum of two +hundred and sixty thousand pounds was left, divided +equally into two portions, but burdened largely with restrictions.</p> + +<p>One hundred and thirty thousand pounds was bequeathed +to Lois Turquand, a minor, spinster. Until +she reached the age of twenty-one, however, she was to +receive only the annual income of two thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>The second half—one hundred and thirty thousand +pounds—was left to Paul Desfrayne, Captain in his majesty’s +One Hundred and Tenth Regiment, he being appointed +also sole trustee, in the event of his being willing +to marry the aforesaid Lois Turquand when she reached<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +the age of twenty-one. In case the aforesaid Lois Turquand +refused to marry him, he was to receive fifty thousand +pounds; if he refused to marry her, he was to have +ten thousand pounds. If they married, the sum of two +hundred and sixty thousand pounds was to be theirs; +if not, the money forfeited by the non-compliance with +this matrimonial scheme was to be distributed in equal +portions among certain London hospitals, named one by +one.</p> + +<p>Three thousand pounds was left to be divided among +the managers of departments and persons in positions of +trust in the employ of the firm; one thousand among the +clerks in the office, and five hundred among the domestics +in his service at the time of his death.</p> + +<p>In the event of the demise of Lois Turquand before attaining +the age of twenty-one, Paul Desfrayne was to +receive a clear sum of one hundred and thirty thousand +pounds; the other moiety to be divided among the London +hospitals named.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amberley was closely regarding Captain Desfrayne +as the latter read this will—to him so singular—once, +twice. When Captain Desfrayne at length raised his +head, however, Mr. Amberley’s glance was averted, and +he was gazing calmly through the murky window at the +radiant blue summer sky.</p> + +<p>For some minutes Captain Desfrayne was unable to +speak.</p> + +<p>“It is the will of a lunatic!” he at length impatiently +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Of a man as fully in possession of his senses as you +or I,” calmly replied Mr. Amberley. “You do not seem +to relish the manner in which he has claimed your services.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what to think—what to say. I wish he +had selected any one rather than myself, which you will +say is ingratitude, seeing how magnificently he has offered +to reward me. When shall I be obliged to go through +an interview with the young lady?”</p> + +<p>“Whenever you please—this afternoon, if convenient +to you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne looked at the lawyer, as if startled. +It almost seemed as if he turned pale.</p> + +<p>“When, I suppose, I am to enjoy the privilege of +breaking the news?” he demanded, with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>“You speak as if the prospect were anything but pleasing. +If you object to the task, it will, perhaps, be all the +better to get it done at once.”</p> + +<p>“Where does she live?”</p> + +<p>“She is staying with Lady Quaintree, in Lowndes +Square.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne recollected, with a queer feeling of +surprise, that his mother had said the previous evening +that Lady Quaintree had lent her the opera-box which +she had used. Could it be possible that his mother already +knew this girl?</p> + +<p>“Lady Quaintree!” he repeated mechanically.</p> + +<p>“Certainly. Miss Turquand has been living there for +two or three years; she is her ladyship’s companion. If +you have no other engagement of pressing importance, +I fancy the most easy and agreeable way would be to call +at the house this evening, about eight o’clock. Lady +Quaintree is to have some sort of reception to-night, and, +as I am almost one of the household, we could see her +before the people begin to arrive.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne gave way to fate. There was no help +for it, so he was obliged to agree to this arrangement, or +choose to think himself obliged, which was worse.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberly thought that not many men would +have received with such obvious repugnance the position +of sole trustee to a beautiful girl of eighteen, who had +just become entitled to a splendid fortune, especially +when there were such provisions in his own favor.</p> + +<p>“It is thus he receives what <i>I</i> would have given—what +would I <i>not</i> have given?—to have obtained the trust,” he +said mentally, with a keen pang of jealous envy.</p> + +<p>It was a strange freak of Dame Fortune—who yet +must surely be a spiteful old maid—to bring these two +men, of all others, into such communication.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s thoughts were in a kind of whirl, +an entanglement which was anything but conducive to +clear deliberation or calm reflection. They eddied and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +surged with deadly fury round one great rock that reared +its cruel black crest before him, standing there in the +midst of his life, impassive, coldly menacing.</p> + +<p>Hitherto, with the exception of one fatal occasion, he +had always consulted his mother on all matters of difficulty +or perplexity. But now he must carefully conceal +his real thoughts from that still beloved counselor. It +was useless to go to her, as of yore, for advice as to the +best course to take: he dared not tell her this miserable +secret which bound him in a viselike grip. His mother +would at once, he knew—unconscious that any link in the +chain was concealed from her—say he must be mad not +to accept, without hesitation, this trust. She would certainly +urge him, for the sake of this unknown girl herself. +He must decide now: it would, perhaps, only make +matters worse if he delayed, or asked time for consideration.</p> + +<p>Besides, if he refused, what rational reason could he +assign to any one of those concerned for declining the +trust?</p> + +<p>No; he must agree to whatever was set before him +now, although by so doing he would almost with his own +hands sow what might prove to be the most bitter harvest +in the future.</p> + +<p>He was within a maze, wherein he did not at present +discern the slightest clue to guide him to the outlet of +escape. It was impossible to explain his position to any +one, yet he felt that it was next to pitiful cowardice to +march under false colors.</p> + +<p>One thing was clear: if he could not explain his reasons +for declining to accept what, while somewhat eccentric, +was a fair and apparently tempting offer, he must +be ready to take the place assigned to him. Not only was +this self-evident, but also that no matter what time he +must ask for reflection, his position could not be altered, +and he could give no plausible excuse of any kind to his +mother for rejecting such princely favors.</p> + +<p>“This young lady is not—is not, then, acquainted with +the contents of this will?” he asked, raising his head, and +speaking somewhat wearily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>“Not as yet. We thought it best to wait until you +could yourself make the communication.”</p> + +<p>He might as well face the girl now, and have it over, +as leave it to a month, six months, a year hence. He was +a soldier, yet a coward and afraid; but he shut his eyes, +as he might if ordered to fire a train, and resolved to go +through with the task, which, to any other one—taken at +random from ten thousand men—must have been a pleasant +duty.</p> + +<p>The lawyer regarded him with surprise, but could not, +of course, make any remark. His wide experience had +never supplied him with a parallel case to this: of a man +receiving such rare and costly gifts from fortune with +clouded brow and half-averted eye. The hopes, however, +which had well-nigh died within his breast, of winning +the one bright jewel he coveted, revived, if feebly.</p> + +<p>“There is something strangely amiss,” he thought; “but +she will be doubly, trebly shielded from the slightest risk +of harm.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne—his troubled gaze still on the open +parchment, which he regarded as if it were his death-warrant—absolutely +started when Mr. Amberley addressed +him, after a short silence, inviting him to partake +of some wine, which magically appeared from a dim, +dusty-looking nook.</p> + +<p>After a little desultory conversation, having arranged +the hour of meeting and other necessary details, Frank +Amberley observed, an odd smile lurking at the corners +of his handsome mouth:</p> + +<p>“This is not the first time we have met, though you +have apparently forgotten me.”</p> + +<p>The captain looked at him.</p> + +<p>“I really do not remember you,” he said, with a puzzled +expression.</p> + +<p>“You do not remember a certain moonlight night in +Turin, when you shot a bandit dead, as his dagger was +within five or six inches of an Englishman’s throat? Nor +an excursion which took place some weeks previously, +when you met the same compatriot in a diligence—myself, +in fact? We wrote down one another’s names, and were +going to swear an eternal friendship, when you were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +abruptly obliged to quit the city, in consequence of some +business call, or regimental duties.”</p> + +<p>“The circumstances have by no means escaped my +memory,” answered Captain Desfrayne, in an indefinable +tone; “though I should have scarcely recognized you. +Since then you have a little altered.”</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley, laughingly, stroked the silken beard, +which had certainly greatly changed his aspect. But the +coldness of the formerly open, frank-hearted man, whom +he had so liked three or four years ago, struck him with +deepened suspicion that something was amiss.</p> + +<p>“I am glad to have met you,” he said. “I should be +very pleased if you could dine with me this evening at +the ‘London.’ My people are going out this evening, so +I am compelled to make shift as I best can, and I don’t +relish dining alone at home.”</p> + +<p>A brief hesitation was ended by Paul Desfrayne accepting +this free-and-easy invitation.</p> + +<p>The two young men then shook hands and parted, with +the agreement to meet again for a six-o’clock dinner.</p> + +<p>Truly, times, places, and things had altered since those +days at Turin, the recollection of which seemed to bring +scant pleasure to Paul Desfrayne’s weary heart.</p> + +<p>“Some fatal secret has become ingrained with that +man’s life,” said the young lawyer, as he closed the door +upon his visitor. “Great heavens! that Lois Turquand +should spurn my love, and be thrown, perhaps, into the +unwilling arms of a man like this, with such a hunted, +half-guilty look in his eyes! It shall not be—it <i>cannot</i> +be! Fate could not be so cruel!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LOIS TURQUAND’S EMBARRASSMENT.</p> + + +<p>The sun, that was shut out by towering walls from +the busy city, like some intrusive idler, was lying, half-slumbrously, +like some magnificent Eastern slave arrayed +in jewels and gold, among the brilliant-hued and many-scented +flowers heaped under the striped Venetian blinds +stretched over the balconies of a mansion in Lowndes +Square.</p> + +<p>An occasional soft breeze lifted the curtains lowered +over the windows, granting a transient vision of apartments +replete with luxury, glowing under the influence +of an exquisitely delicate taste.</p> + +<p>Within the principal drawing-room sat a stately matron, +with silver-white hair, attired in full evening costume, +apparently awaiting the arrival of expected guests.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was handsome, even at sixty, with +a soft, clear skin, and a complexion girlishly brilliant; a +figure full, without being dangerously stout; a most wondrously +dainty hand, on which sparkled clusters of rings +that might have formed a king’s ransom. Her ladyship +had been a beauty in her youth—not a spoiled, ill-humored +beauty, but one kind and indulgent, much flattered and +loved, taking adoration as her due, as a queen accepts all +the rights and privileges of her position.</p> + +<p>A woman made up of mild virtues—good, though not +religious; kind and pleasant, though not benevolent, abhorring +the poor, and the sick, and the unfortunate—the +very name of trouble was disagreeable to her. This world +would have been a sunny, rose-tinted Arcadia could she +have had her way; it should have been always summer.</p> + +<p>She went regularly to church on Sunday morning with +great decorum, turning over the pages of her beautiful +ivory-covered church service at the proper time, and +always put sovereigns on the plate with much liberality +when there was a collection. She gave directions to her +housekeeper in the country to deal out coats, and blankets,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> +and all that sort of thing, to deserving applicants. If +flower-girls, or wretched-looking beggars, crowded round +her carriage when she went out shopping, they not unfrequently +received sixpences as a bribe to take themselves +and their miseries out of sight.</p> + +<p>So that, altogether, her ladyship felt she had a reason +to rely on being defended from all adversities which +might happen to the body, and all evil thoughts which +might assault and hurt the soul.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was nearly asleep when a liveried +servant drew aside the velvet portière, and announced:</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne and Mr. Amberley!”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s glance swept the suite of apartments, +as if in search of the girl who unconsciously held the +threads of his destiny in her hands; but, to his relief, she +was not to be seen.</p> + +<p>He allowed himself to be led up to the mistress of the +house, and went through the ceremony of introduction +like one in a dream. Lady Quaintree spoke to him, and +made some smiling remarks; but he was unable to do +more than reply intelligibly in monosyllables. The first +words that broke upon his half-dazed senses with anything +like clearness were uttered by Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“Not so much, my dear aunt, to pay our respects to +you as to communicate a most important matter of business +to—to Miss Turquand. I suppose we ought to have +come at a proper hour in the business part of the day, +but it was my idea to, if possible, take off the—in fact, I +imagined it might be the most pleasant way of introducing +Captain Desfrayne to bring him here this evening.”</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree had opened her eyes at the commencement +of this speech.</p> + +<p>“A most important matter of business concerning Miss +Turquand?” she said. “What can it possibly be?”</p> + +<p>“She certainly ought to be the first to hear it,” replied +Frank Amberley; “though, as her nearest friend, my +dear aunt, you ought to learn the facts as soon as herself.”</p> + +<p>“You have a sufficiently mysterious air, Frank. I feel +eager to hear these wonderful tidings.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> + +<p>Her ladyship felt a little piqued that her nephew did +not offer at once to give her at least some hint of what +the important matter of business might be about.</p> + +<p>A sudden thought seemed to strike her, and she rang +a tiny, silver hand-bell with some sharpness, while an +expression of anxiety crossed her face. As she did so, a +figure, so ethereal that it seemed like an emanation of +fancy, floated unexpectedly from the entrance to the farthest +room, and came down the length of the two salons +beyond that in which the little group was stationed.</p> + +<p>For a moment it seemed as if this fairylike vision had +appeared in response to the musical tingling of the bell.</p> + +<p>A girl of eighteen or nineteen, dressed in the familiar +costume of Undine. A figure, tall, full of a royal dignity +and repose, like that of a statue of Diana. A face surrounded +by a radiant glory of sun-bright hair, recalling +those pure saints and martyrs which glow serenely mild +from the dim walls of old Italian or Spanish cathedrals. +Many faults might be found with that face, yet it was +one that gained in attraction at every glance.</p> + +<p>The young girl advanced so rapidly down the rooms +that she was standing within a few feet of the two gentlemen +before she could plan a swift retreat.</p> + +<p>A vivid, painful blush overspread her face, and she +stood as if either transformed into some beautiful sculptured +image, or absolutely unable to decide which would +be the worst of evils—to remain or to fly.</p> + +<p>She turned the full luster of her translucent eyes upon +Captain Desfrayne, as some lovely wild creature of the +forest might gaze dismayed at the sight of a hunter, and +then recoiled.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree rose, and quickly moved a few steps, +as if to intercept her, and said:</p> + +<p>“My dear, don’t run away. Frank Amberley knows +all about the tableau for which you are obliged to prepare. +I thought you would have come down before to +let me see how the dress suited; but I suppose that abominable +Lagrange has been late, as usual. My dear Lois, I +am dying with curiosity. These gentlemen—Captain +Desfrayne and Mr. Frank Amberley—have come to tell +you some wonderful piece of business, and I want to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +know what it is as soon as possible. Pray stop. You +will only lose time if you go to change your dress.”</p> + +<p>“I beseech you, madam, let me go,” pleaded Lois Turquand, +troubled by her unforeseen, embarrassing situation—strangely +troubled by the steadfast gaze which +Paul Desfrayne, in spite of himself, fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! You must hear what they have to say. +I feel puzzled, and anxious to know.”</p> + +<p>Lois vainly tried to avoid that singular, inexplicable +look, which seemed to master her. Had she not been so +suddenly taken at a disadvantage, she would have repelled +it with displeasure. As it was, she had a curious +sense of being mesmerized. She ceased to urge her entreaty +for permission to depart, and stood motionless, +though her color fluctuated every instant.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LOIS TURQUAND’S ALTERED FORTUNE.</p> + + +<p>Frank Amberley looked at Captain Desfrayne, who +drew back several steps—for neither had seated himself, +although Lady Quaintree had signed to them to do so.</p> + +<p>It was evident that Captain Desfrayne would not take +the initiative, so Frank Amberley was obliged to explain—more +to Lady Quaintree than to her protégée—that +Miss Turquand had been left heiress to a fortune of one +hundred and thirty thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>“To just double that sum in reality; but there are certain +conditions attached to the larger amount, which must +be fulfilled, or the second moiety is forfeited,” Mr. Amberley +continued, looking down, his voice not quite so +steady as it had been when he began. “I have had a +copy of the will prepared, which Miss Turquand might +like to read before seeing the original.”</p> + +<p>He had a folded paper, tied with red tape, in his hand, +which he placed on a table close by Lois. As he did so, +his eyes rested for a moment upon her with a strange, +mingled expression of passionate love and profound +despair, at once pathetic and painful.</p> + +<p>The young girl still stood immovable, as if in a dream. +Her luminous eyes turned upon the document; but she +did not attempt to touch it, or show in any way that she +really comprehended what had been said, except by that +one swift glance of her eyes upon the paper.</p> + +<p>“This gentleman—Captain Desfrayne—has been appointed +by Mr. Gardiner, Miss Turquand’s trustee.”</p> + +<p>The brilliant eyes were turned for an instant to the +countenance of Captain Desfrayne, and then withdrawn; +while still deeper crimson tides flooded over the lovely +face.</p> + +<p>“How very extraordinary!” said Lady Quaintree, as if +scarcely able to understand. “How <i>very</i> singular!” she +repeated emphatically.</p> + +<p>“I am truly glad,” she cried, pulling the cloudy figure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +toward her, and kissing the fair young face. “So my little +girl is a wealthy heiress. What will you do with all +your money? Go and live in ease, and give fêtes and +garden-parties, and have revels at Christmas, and amateur +theatricals, and knights and ladies gay, or devote +yourself to schools and almshouses, as a favorite hobby? +Come, a silver sixpence for your thoughts.”</p> + +<p>Lois, standing perfectly still, leaning against the table, +with her hand resting on the carved back of her patroness’ +chair, glanced at her ladyship, at the lawyer, and +at Captain Desfrayne. Then the soft, sweet eyes drooped. +She made no answer. It was impossible to tell from her +face what her feelings might be.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was greatly disappointed by this cool +reception of the marvelous news, which had thrown herself +into a state of pleasurable excitement. She turned +to her nephew with eager curiosity.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me a few morsels of the contents of this +wonderful will?” she asked. “Who made the will? +Who has left all this money to my dear girl? What was +he? and why has he been so generous?”</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree had been quite fond of her companion; +but this sudden access of affection was due to the delightful +intelligence brought by the lawyer.</p> + +<p>“The will would explain more clearly than I could do +all particulars,” Frank Amberley replied.</p> + +<p>He felt it was absolutely impossible at that moment +to enter into any elucidation whatever, or even to give +an outline of the conditions of the will.</p> + +<p>Lois extended the document toward Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>“Is it very long?” her ladyship demanded, glancing at +Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“It may take you five minutes to read it,” he answered.</p> + +<p>She unfolded the paper, and ran her eye rapidly over +the contents. Not one of the others uttered a word—not +one ventured to look up, but remained as if carved out of +stone.</p> + +<p>Lois found it well-nigh impossible to analyze her sensations; +but certainly the predominant one was that she +must be in a dream. She had every reason to be happy +with her protectress, who was as kind as if the near ties<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +of relationship bound them together; but it would probably +be quite useless to search the world for the girl of +eighteen who could hear unmoved that she had suddenly +become the owner of a large fortune, especially if that +girl happened to be in a dependent position, and to move +constantly amid persons with whom money, rank, and +fashion were paramount objects of devotion.</p> + +<p>She was the daughter of a court embroideress, who +had earned about four hundred a year by her labors and +those of her assistants; but Mrs. Turquand had never +been able—or thought she had not been—to lay by any +portion of her income as a provision for her child. Lady +Quaintree had always liked Lois as a child, and at the +death of her mother, three years since, had taken her to +be useful companion and agreeable company for herself.</p> + +<p>That Lois had any expectations from any quarter whatever, +nobody ever for a moment supposed. Everybody of +Lady Quaintree’s acquaintance knew and liked the young +girl, who was so pretty, so obliging, so sweet-tempered. +That she should now be suddenly transformed into the +inheritress of great wealth was something like an incident +in a fairy-tale.</p> + +<p>Mr. Amberley’s reflections were easily defined. He had +for months past loved this young girl, though he had +never yet had sufficient courage to declare as much, for +she seemed totally unconscious of his preference, and, +while certainly not distant nor icy with him, never gave +him the slightest reason to suppose that she ever as much +as remembered him when he was absent. He had, however, +the satisfaction of feeling sure that she cared for +no one else. Never even remotely had he hinted to Lady +Quaintree his secret, being well aware she would discountenance +his suit, for many reasons.</p> + +<p>It was with the utmost bitterness of spirit that he had +seen the girl apparently removed from the possibility +of his being able to pay court to her; and at the same +time not only delivered into the sole charge of a probable +rival, but bound by the most stringent injunctions to +marry a young, handsome, and in every way attractive, +man—a man whom he judged, in his own distrustful humility,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +much more likely to seize the fancy of a young +beauty than he himself was.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s thoughts were utterly confused. +Since entering the room, he had scarcely spoken three +sentences, and he heartily wished himself anywhere rather +than in this softly illumined suite of rooms, facing this +beautiful girl with the angelic face, whom he had been +commanded and largely bribed to fall in love with and +make his wife.</p> + +<p>He dreaded the moment when Lady Quaintree should +drop her gold-rimmed eye-glass, and the silence should be +broken. At the same time, the thought of his mother +never left him. What would she say when she learnt +the contents of this terrible will? Only too well he foresaw +the scenes he should be obliged to go through. As +for this girl herself, lovely as some poet’s vision, he resolved +to see as little of her as might be compatible with +the fulfilment of his legal duties and responsibilities toward +her. What a pitiful coward he felt himself! Why +could he not tell the truth, and save so much possible +future suffering?</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree read through the closely written document, +and then, folding it up, stared at each of the three +persons before her, with an almost comic expression of +amazement upon her fair, unwrinkled countenance.</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne,” she said, smiling as she held out +her hand, “I trust you will be pleased to remain with us +this evening as long as your inclinations or other engagements +permit. I expect some very pleasant friends—some +really distinguished persons, with whom you may either +already be well acquainted, or whom you might not object +to meet.”</p> + +<p>There was such a stately yet gracious dignity in her +manner that Captain Desfrayne caught the infection, and +bowed over the delicate white hand with almost old-fashioned +chivalric courtesy.</p> + +<p>“You will pardon my leaving you two gentlemen alone +for a few minutes,” she added. “Lois, my love, I will go +with you to your room.”</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree quitted the salon, followed by the +beautiful figure, clad in its cloudy robes of ethereal white.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p> + +<p>“Let us go at once to your apartment, my child,” she +said, leading the way.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were bright with eager excitement, for she +was surprised and pleased by the totally unexpected +change in her young companion’s fortunes; and she loved +the girl so much that she was rejoiced to see her rise from +her inferior station to one of wealth—to see so fair and +sunny a prospect opening before her.</p> + +<p>She glided up the stairs with a step so alert that forty +years seemed lifted from her age; and in a minute they +were within the precincts of the pretty room which was +the domain of Lois Turquand.</p> + +<p>“My love,” Lady Quaintree said, closing the door with +a careful hand, “I am so pleased I can hardly tell you +how much. You, no doubt, wish to know the contents of +this wondrous paper? My dear, it is as interesting as a +fairy-tale. You are a good girl, and deserve all the good +fortune Heaven may please to send you.”</p> + +<p>She kissed the young girl’s forehead very kindly. Lois +returned the caress with passionate warmth, and laid her +head down upon her old friend’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Lois, before I give you this to read, I want you to +do something, which, perhaps, you might feel too agitated +afterward to manage.”</p> + +<p>“What is that, dear madam?”</p> + +<p>“You must not call me ‘madam’ or ‘my lady’ any more, +pet. I want you to change this fantastical dress for your +black silk, and wear my pretty jet ornaments, and also a +pair of my white gloves, with the black silk embroidery +which I bought in Paris. I think it is a mark of respect +you owe to your benefactor. Did you ever see or hear of +him?”</p> + +<p>“Never, madam.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I ring for Justine to help you in dressing?”</p> + +<p>A faint smile dimpled the corners of the young girl’s +lips as she shook her head.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree looked about for the bell, then laughed +at her own forgetfulness. From this little chamber—formerly +a small dressing-room—there was no communication +with the servants’ domain. Her ladyship, taking the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +copy of the will with her, crossed to her own apartment, +only a few steps distant.</p> + +<p>When she returned, she was followed by her waiting-maid, +who was carrying a package of black laces; a pair +of gloves; a filmy lace handkerchief, on which was some +black edging; and a black fan—one of Lady Quaintree’s +treasures, for it had once belonged to Marie Antoinette.</p> + +<p>In those few minutes Lois had thrown off her cloudy +robes, divested herself completely of her assumed character +of Undine, and donned a handsome black silk evening-dress.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was carrying a black-and-gold case, +which she placed upon the dressing-table and opened. +It contained a complete set of jet ornaments.</p> + +<p>She ordered Justine to unfasten the black lace already +upon Miss Turquand’s robe, and replace it by that in her +custody.</p> + +<p>The black lace selected by Lady Quaintree was, Justine +knew, very valuable, and the richest she had; the jet +ornaments, she also knew, her ladyship prized; so, great +was her secret amazement not only to see Miss Turquand +habited in black, when the blue and white she had +meant to wear was lying outspread upon a couch, but at +the lively interest displayed by Lady Quaintree in the +somber metamorphosis, and perhaps, above all, at the fact +of the stately dame being in Miss Turquand’s apartment.</p> + +<p>The discreet Frenchwoman, however, said not one +word; but, taking out needles and thread from a “pocket-companion,” +she dexterously obeyed the orders received +from her mistress.</p> + +<p>Lois was so astounded by the news she had heard that +she was incapable of doing anything but what, in fact, +she had already done, implicitly followed directions. She +permitted Lady Quaintree to clasp the jet suite upon her +neck and arms, and in her ears, and looked at the gloves, +and handkerchief, and fan with the glance of one walking +in her sleep.</p> + +<p>Justine, wondering, though she did not utter a syllable, +was dismissed, and Lady Quaintree desired Lois to +sit down.</p> + +<p>“We have already been absent nearly twenty minutes,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +she said, consulting her tiny watch. “I wished to arrange +your toilet before I told you what is really in this will. +Perhaps you think I treat you as a child; but you are +already agitated, and when you know the eccentric nature +of the conditions, you will, probably, be much startled. +Pray read it, my dear.”</p> + +<p>Lois did so, with changing color and flashing eyes. +When she finished, she threw the paper upon the table, +and, rising from her chair, walked to and fro, as if under +the influence of uncontrollable emotion. Then she abruptly +paused before Lady Quaintree, extending her hands as +if in protest.</p> + +<p>“Why should this person,” she exclaimed, “of whom +I never heard—of whom I knew nothing till this hour—why +should this stranger have left me all this money, and +why bind me with such conditions? I feel as if I could +not, ought not, to accept the gift he has given me. He +must have been a lunatic!”</p> + +<p>“Softly, softly, softly, my dearest! You are talking +at random.”</p> + +<p>“How can I face that man again?—he must know, of +course,” Lois continued vehemently, referring to Paul +Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“We shall see more clearly after a while, Lois. Certainly, +I am surprised by this affair; but perhaps my +nephew, Amberley, may be able to enlighten us a little +more. Come, let us go down. They will wonder if I, at +least, keep them waiting much longer.”</p> + +<p>“No—no, dear Lady Quaintree. I cannot go now. I +feel as if I must shrink into the earth rather than meet +them again,” said Lois, recoiling as Lady Quaintree offered +her hand.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! I did not think my quiet, soft-spoken +Lois was made of such silly stuff.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Lady Quaintree, I really <i>cannot</i> go now. Perhaps, +when the rooms are full of people, and I can hope +to escape observation, I may venture.”</p> + +<p>“Will you faithfully promise to come when I send for +you—or, at least, in half an hour?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—yes, dear madam.”</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was obliged to be satisfied. In her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> +secret heart she was sorry for the conditions which so +horrified her young friend.</p> + +<p>For a vast change had taken place in her plans since +she had heard her nephew tell his news. What she had +dreaded and feared hitherto she would now gladly see +accomplished; but here were difficulties, apparently insurmountable, +placed in her way.</p> + +<p>As she paused for a moment on the threshold, she +glanced at the statuesque figure of Lois. A curious, superstitious +feeling crept over her, and a thrill of painful +presentiment passed through her heart.</p> + +<p>The young girl had entered the room only some twenty +or thirty minutes before, arrayed like some glittering +creature of light, sparkling with diamonds, placed, by desire +of Lady Quaintree, among the gauzy folds of her +semitransparent robes to represent drops of water, her +superb, sun-bright hair floating like a halo of glory about +her, radiant as a spirit.</p> + +<p>Now she was draped in somber black, her aspect +changed as by an enchanter’s wand. Her spiritual beauty +did not suffer, it is true. She looked, if possible, more +lovely thus shrouded; but—but still, Lady Quaintree +wished that the news had not involved donning signs +of mourning, and thought that people had no business +to dictate terms of love and marriage from the grave.</p> + +<p>“An unlucky omen!” she thought, gathering up her +violet skirts and embroidered jupons.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A TRIPLE BONDAGE.</p> + + +<p>Lady Quaintree had hoped to glean a little more information +from the two gentlemen, for she was as much +excited as if she herself had been the inheritrix of the +eccentric old man’s money.</p> + +<p>But she was disappointed. Scarcely had she returned +to the principal drawing-room, when five or six guests +arrived, and from that moment people came pouring into +the salons until there was a well-bred, well-dressed +throng.</p> + +<p>Lois did not wait to be sent for. She came in with a +quiet, calm dignity of manner, the color a shade deeper +on her cheeks, and a feverish glitter in her eyes, but +otherwise self-possessed, as usual.</p> + +<p>Her marked change of costume attracted universal +attention, and many inquiries were made. Lady Quaintree +had the supreme felicity of being able to diffuse the +information just received through a dozen different channels, +whereby she was sure it would permeate to society +in general.</p> + +<p>“I should not have permitted her to appear had this +been a dancing-party,” she explained. “But it is so quiet, +and I am unable to manage without her.</p> + +<p>“She is quite like a daughter to me,” she went on, +thoroughly believing her own enthusiastic speeches, and +feeling a maternal pride swell her bosom. A tear or so +lightly brushed away by her lace handkerchief would +have added to the effect, but tears come and go at will, +not at the command of those who would summon or dismiss +them.</p> + +<p>Miss Turquand sat so tranquil in appearance, and bore +the masked battery of curious eyes so calmly, that some +people who listened with amazement were indignant. +Lady Quaintree’s companion did not seem conscious that +anything unusual had happened. Two or three times she +glanced through the veil of silken lashes which fringed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +her translucent gray eyes at Captain Desfrayne, but it +was a glance swift as lightning, not betraying the most +transient glimpse of the strange, mingled feelings of resentment +and lively interest aroused in her heart by the +claim made upon her in behalf of the handsome young +officer.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne carefully avoided looking at his +beautiful charge. He seemed to be profoundly indifferent +on the subject of Mr. Vere Gardiner’s whims and fancies, +and neither approached Miss Turquand nor evinced the +slightest desire to become acquainted with her.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley and Lady Quaintree thought this +strange, but neither showed that they were in any way +conscious of Captain Desfrayne’s cold indifference toward +the young girl.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne found some people among the crowd +whom he knew, and was introduced to some others by +his hostess, or by Frank Amberley, so he ought not to +have experienced the profound sense of ennui and oppression +which made him long to be anywhere but in this brilliant +throng.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree at last seized an opportunity of questioning +her nephew on the subject of the mysterious old +man, and in a few words he gave her as much information +as he thought advisable.</p> + +<p>“How extraordinary!” she said. “What a very romantic +case! I have no objection to his leaving a fine +fortune to my dear little girl, but I think he should not +have hampered her with such disagreeable conditions. +He seems to have been remarkably eccentric.”</p> + +<p>“I knew scarcely anything of him,” Mr. Amberley replied. +“I think, certainly, it was an odd thing for him to +lay such an embargo on the liberty of two young people, +and I doubt not but the expression of his wishes will +most probably be the means of hindering them from——”</p> + +<p>He abruptly paused. His aunt looked searchingly at +him, anxious to learn his secret thoughts, for more reasons +than one.</p> + +<p>“I know Lois will never be the one to love when she +is ordered to dispose of her affections,” she said, very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +quietly. “And I am perfectly convinced she will never +marry any one whom she does not love.”</p> + +<p>A most wonderfully indiscreet question—one which +he knew Lady Quaintree would not answer, but which +he longed to ask, nevertheless—trembled on the lips of the +young lawyer, yet he could not form the necessary words. +He was about to ask:</p> + +<p>“Do you think she cares for any one at present?” But +Lady Quaintree was called away before he could muster +sufficient presence of mind even to debate with himself +whether it were possible to as much as hint such a query.</p> + +<p>Lois’ opinion of Paul Desfrayne, gathered from those +fugitive glances, was that she could never like him even +as a friend. He seemed so cold, so self-absorbed, so +haughty, that her sense of antagonism deepened. The +strange, bewildering sense of magnetic attraction which +had fallen upon her during the first few moments of their +unexpected meeting had faded away, to be replaced by a +firmly rooted conviction that she could never entertain +even the mildest liking for this almost stern, melancholy +looking guardian.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s idea of Lois—at whom he had, indeed, +hardly glanced at all—was that, while beautiful as +a statue, she was as icy as if carved from marble.</p> + +<p>Deeper and darker grew the cloud upon the young +man’s brow; and at length, finding a favorable chance to +escape unseen, he quitted the softly illumined drawing-room, +wherein he had deemed himself a prisoner; and +with a slow step he descended the wide, richly carpeted +staircase, revolving thoughts evidently not too pleasing.</p> + +<p>He had just reached the bottom of the stairs when a +figure, radiant as Venus herself, alighted from a +brougham at the door, and swept over the threshold, in +all the pride and glory of the most brilliant and latest +Parisian toilet.</p> + +<p>It was the woman who had been sitting in the balcony +in Porchester Square the previous evening, when the +weary pedestrian had stopped Captain Desfrayne, and +implored his pity.</p> + +<p>Almost at the moment when she alighted, she was met +by a young man, who was about to enter the mansion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> + +<p>This young man was Lady Quaintree’s only son—a +fair, slender, rather foppish young fellow, with a pale, +interesting face, and a pretty, graceful figure.</p> + +<p>The attention of the resplendent creature in pink satin +and white lace was turned smilingly on this young man, +who stepped eagerly forward, and offered her his arm; +otherwise she must have seen Captain Desfrayne, who +gazed at her as people are supposed to stare at specters.</p> + +<p>A few muttered, half-broken words escaped Paul Desfrayne’s +lips, and he looked hurriedly about, with the +air of an animal at bay. Then, swiftly turning, as the +two gay, laughing and flirting apparitions came up the +hall, he threw aside a crimson velvet portière, and plunged +recklessly into a room close at hand.</p> + +<p>It was a moderate-sized sitting-room, flooded with a +soft, pure light, and deliciously cool in contrast to the +heated salons above.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne was about to congratulate himself on +the retired nook into which he had managed to tumble; +but almost at the instant when he entered, he heard a +silvery, musical voice, sounding so as to evidence that the +person who owned it was rapidly approaching from a conservatory +opening on the room—the voice of his mother, +speaking in animated conversation.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to retreat, though he would gladly +have avoided even his idolized mother at that moment. +Nay, she was just then the last being he desired to see.</p> + +<p>She would naturally be surprised to meet him here, for +until this evening he had scarcely known anything of +Lord or Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>The clustered lights above the doorway, half-hidden +as they were by climbing exotics trained in prodigal profusion +about slender columns, shed their glowing beams +upon an animated face and superbly handsome figure, as +Mrs. Desfrayne appeared, arrayed, as was her wont, with +faultless taste. Her companion was Lord Quaintree, the +famous judge—a tall, noble old Englishman.</p> + +<p>“I am free to confess, my lord,” she was saying, “that +I do not at all approve of the presence of these singing-women +at reunions such as this of to-night. They are +very well in their proper places, these people.” It would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> +be impossible to give any idea of the insolent disdain +with which these words were uttered. “But they ought +not to be allowed to mix with——”</p> + +<p>She suddenly paused, as she caught sight of Paul, +and, in her amazement, stood still, gazing upon him with +an expression of blank astonishment. Half-angry with +herself for being so surprised, she felt that she was accidentally +placed in an almost ludicrous position for the +moment; yet she could not as much as speak a word.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne, for his part, could not have uttered +one syllable if his life had depended on it. He had +never, in all his days, felt so completely at a nonplus—so +forlorn, so distracted, as he did at this instant. A terrible +scene he knew was at hand, and he could not tell what +might be the result.</p> + +<p>Lord Quaintree looked with surprise from one to the +other, not being able to comprehend what was passing +before his eyes. He had never seen Captain Desfrayne, +and could not guess why Mrs. Desfrayne should be thus +betrayed into so singular a display of emotion. Conscious +that probably he might be a little in the way, he +yet did not know how to move himself off the stage with +his ordinary easy grace.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne was the first to speak. She exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Paul!”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne bowed.</p> + +<p>“At your service, madam,” he said, very simply.</p> + +<p>“I was not aware——Lord Quaintree, my son—my +only son—Captain Desfrayne.”</p> + +<p>Lord Quaintree smiled, and held out his hand. He +saw that something was amiss, without knowing what.</p> + +<p>“I hope to see you presently, Captain Desfrayne,” he +said, with his pleasant, urbane manner. “I must show +myself up-stairs at once, or my lady will think I have +run away.”</p> + +<p>He left the room, surmising that the two would greatly +prefer being left together. But for very shame’s sake, +Paul would have caught him by the sleeve, and detained +him as a temporary shield.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">PAUL’S GALLING SHACKLES.</p> + + +<p>“You are surprised to see me here to-night, Mimi,” +Paul Desfrayne said, using an old childish pet-name that +always disarmed his mother. “I came here with a friend +to see Lady Quaintree”—he hesitated painfully—“on—on +business.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne opened her big blue eyes, and looked +him straight in the face. A spasm of pique passed +through her heart.</p> + +<p>“You did not know that <i>I</i> was acquainted with Lady +Quaintree?” she remarked, half-sarcastically, opening +and shutting her fan with a movement which he knew +well of old as indicating vexation. She was angry that +he had come hither with some friend unknown to her, +instead of asking her for an introduction, and telling her +of his business.</p> + +<p>“My dear mother, I did not know until this very afternoon +that I was to come here. I remembered, when I +heard the name, that you had spoken of her. It was she +who lent you the opera-box last night, was it not?”</p> + +<p>“Well—well, it does not signify. I must not be inquisitive,” +said Mrs. Desfrayne, confident that she must +learn all sooner or later. “Have you heard or seen anything +of the young lady you spoke of yesterday evening?”</p> + +<p>“I have.”</p> + +<p>“You have?” cried Mrs. Desfrayne, drawing a step +or two nearer to him. “What is she like? Where does +she live? Is she pretty? What is she?”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne paused for an instant, as if perplexed +at such a volley of questions.</p> + +<p>“Her name is Lois Turquand, and she is the companion +of Lady Quaintree,” he then very quietly replied.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne retreated several steps, as if confounded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<p>“You are jesting!” she angrily exclaimed, unable to +credit that she had heard aright.</p> + +<p>“I presume you have seen the young lady?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand!” Mrs. Desfrayne slowly repeated—“Lois +Turquand! Oh, it is impossible!”</p> + +<p>The information did not seem to afford her much +pleasure, and there was a visible expression of blank disappointment +upon her face.</p> + +<p>The truth—or part of the truth—was that Mrs. Desfrayne +had no great liking for Lois Turquand. By nature +aristocratic, proud as a duchess of Norman descent, she +cared not for persons beneath her in station, while winning +and all that was gracious to those in her own rank +or above her.</p> + +<p>To Lady Quaintree, wife of the world-famed lawyer, +she had ever paid eager court; but Miss Turquand, the +daughter of an embroideress, a penniless nobody, she had +always politely ignored. When her son had told her of +the strange will which had placed him in such an unexpectedly +advantageous position, she had built, with feminine +imaginative rapidity and skill, sparkling castles in +the traitorous air. All her life she had yearned to mix +freely in society—she longed to be a leader of fashion, +a star in the hemisphere of the beau monde; but her income +was limited. Her husband, a colonel in the army, +had died almost a poor man, leaving her some six hundred +a year, and to her son an equal pittance—for such +she considered it, measured by her desires and wants. +She was still young and most beautiful when left a widow, +and might have married again advantageously, but +her overweening ambition had induced her to reject more +than one excellent offer, and now it was too late to retrieve +these errors of judgment—though she still had her +secret plans and schemes.</p> + +<p>Under a fair and smiling mask she hid many little +feminine piques and spites, and one of her pet “aversions” +happened to be Miss Turquand. She could hardly +pardon the girl her roseate youth, her fresh, piquant loveliness, +her grace, spontaneous as that of a wood-nymph. +For some reason, unexplainable even to herself, she always +experienced a horribly galling sense of being old,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +and world-worn, and artificial, in presence of Lois Turquand, +and it created a small vindictive sense of envy and +spite that augured ill for any future attempt at conciliation. +Her short-lived dream of taking the young person +left in her son’s charge in hand, and shining in society +by means of a reflected light, was at an end.</p> + +<p>She could have better endured to hear that the legatee +was a plain young woman, in a vastly inferior station. It +was as if her son had held a draft of gall and wormwood +to her lips, and asked her to swallow it.</p> + +<p>“It is incredible!” she said, after a brief pause, during +which she kept her eyes fixed upon her son’s face.</p> + +<p>“You have certainly surprised me,” she added, slightly +shrugging her shoulders. “Though why I should feel +surprise, I cannot tell. It is absurd, I have no doubt. So +Miss Turquand has become a young woman of property. +I long ago was determined not to be astonished at anything, +and I take a fresh resolution from to-night. Was +the person who left her this money a relative?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Not a relative! May I ask what——Am I indiscreet +in asking for any particulars?”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne knew that sooner or later his mother +must become acquainted with everything that the will +contained. It was better to take things with a good +grace, and let her hear now, than to shrink and keep silence, +or grant half-confidences, and make bad worse, by +appearing to make a mystery of what was apparently a +simple matter.</p> + +<p>“The old gentleman of whom I was speaking to you +last night—Mr. Vere Gardiner—has left Miss Turquand +one hundred and thirty thousand pounds unconditionally. +He has left me ten thousand in the same way, but——”</p> + +<p>With an effort he rapidly told her the general contents +of the will.</p> + +<p>“You marry Miss Turquand!” almost angrily cried +Mrs. Desfrayne, flirting her fan backward and forward +with a nervous movement. She had seated herself, in +her agitation, while Paul remained standing a few steps +from her.</p> + +<p>“Such are the terms of the will. If she dies before the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> +three years have expired, I am to receive—I forget how +many thousands.”</p> + +<p>“Have you seen her?”</p> + +<p>“I have.”</p> + +<p>“How do you like her?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, as far as I can judge.”</p> + +<p>A smile, almost of gratification, rippled over the fair, +smooth face of his mother at this admission. She was +on the point of exclaiming: “I am glad of it!” but +checked herself, and remarked instead:</p> + +<p>“How is it that I find you here alone?”</p> + +<p>These words recalled Captain Desfrayne to his exact +position. He felt as if he could have given worlds to +speak with the old freedom to the woman who loved him +so fondly—could he but explain to her what weighed +upon his life like a constant nightmare. But it was impossible. +He was a coward, and dared not face her inevitable +anger.</p> + +<p>“I was going away just as I saw you,” he replied, with +apparent tranquillity, though his heart for a moment had +beat wildly at the thought of making his confession. +“The rooms were frightfully hot up-stairs, and this place +seemed so cool and inviting, I lingered.”</p> + +<p>“You will take me up-stairs, however. Does Lady +Quaintree know you are my son?”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne had not thought of it.</p> + +<p>“I have such an intolerable headache!” he pleaded, +anxious to escape; and his temples throbbed to agony. +“I really cannot stay.”</p> + +<p>“That is very unusual with you, having a headache,” +said his mother. “What is the cause of it?”</p> + +<p>The young man shrugged his shoulders without replying +in words.</p> + +<p>His mother urged him, only half-believing in his excuse, +to escort her up-stairs. She had many reasons for +desiring his company. Although it was a little vexatious, +perhaps, for so young-looking a woman to be attended +by a son who seemed nearly as old as she did herself, +she always wished for his escort. He was so handsome, +so dignified, so chivalrous, gallant, devoted, in his behavior—there +was the mother’s pride and glory to atone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +in a measure for the beauty’s mortified vanity. At this +moment she wished to see him with Miss Turquand, to +judge how far affairs were likely to go; she wanted to +hear Lady Quaintree’s opinion, and see how Miss Turquand +carried herself beneath the golden blaze of her +new prosperity. But it was in vain she urged him, and +she was piqued by this odd refusal. He was determined +to go at once.</p> + +<p>“Well, you must call to-morrow, Paul. I am dying +with curiosity to hear all the rest, and your opinion, and +so on.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne escaped. The balmy air cooled his +fevered pulses, and he walked rapidly away into the darkness +of the summer’s night.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens, what an escape!” he muttered. “I +don’t know what earthly inducement could have impelled +me to go up-stairs. My poor mother! What an ungrateful +villain I feel in deceiving her! It was an accursed +day when that brilliant butterfly crossed my path, and led +me away as easily as ever schoolboy was lured into a +mad chase on an idle afternoon, or peasant lout drawn +into pursuit of a gleaming Jack-o’-lantern. There is no +peace, no happiness for me henceforth. I sometimes wish +my mother knew all. It would be an infinite weight lifted +off my mind; and yet I dare not—I dare not tell her.”</p> + +<p>The desire to be rid of this painful secret rose so +strongly within his breast, that when he had traversed +several streets, he abruptly paused to reflect on the advisability +of going to the house in Porchester Square, +where his mother was staying, and awaiting her return, +with the object of telling her precisely how he was situated.</p> + +<p>“No,” he at length decided. “I <i>cannot</i> do so to-night. +To-morrow, perhaps, I shall be more courageous. If this +unlucky piece of ‘good fortune,’ as I suppose some folks +would style it, had not occurred, I might have borne my +secret some few years longer—maybe forever—safe +locked within my breast, there to gnaw away my life at its +ease. But this misguided old man’s absurd whim has +been the fatal means of letting in a flood of misery now +and in the future upon my most unhappy head. It is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +well that the girl is cold and seemingly impassive. It +is also providential that she has powerful friends, who +will render my duties merely nominal.”</p> + +<p>The sleepy quiet of the aristocratic street through +which he was passing with slow, undecided steps was +broken by swift-rolling wheels.</p> + +<p>The gleaming lamps of a dashing brougham threw long +gleams of light through the semiobscurity of the somber +thoroughfare, and the champ of the horses’ feet, the jingle +of the silver harness, evidenced that the vehicle belonged +to some one of wealth, if not of position.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s glance was mechanically attracted to +this handsome equipage, unconsciously to himself.</p> + +<p>As it passed him, the face of a woman appeared at the +window—the face of Madam Guiscardini thus coming +before him like an apparition for the second time this +night.</p> + +<p>Her face looked like some beautiful pictured head +painted on a dark background. She did not see him, but +spoke to the coachman, apparently giving him some new +direction. Glancing forth like a vision, she as rapidly +vanished again, and in a moment the brougham had +swept off down one of the side streets.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne struck his hands together with a gesture +of despair.</p> + +<p>“She seems to haunt me to-night like some evil spirit,” +he muttered. “I did not know she was in London. Her +face fills me with affright and a sense of coming danger. +Can it be true that I once fancied I loved this woman, +and that I let her crush my life forevermore with +her cold, pitiless hand? Can it be that I am her bond-slave—no +longer free to do more than move in the one +dull round day by day, with these galling shackles about +me, forced to relinquish all the bright hopes of love and +happiness that bring sunshine about other men? Oh! +fool, fool, fool that I have been!” he cried, aloud.</p> + +<p>Then he once more quickened his steps, as if to escape +from himself.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">AN UNINTENTIONAL CUT.</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne then went up-stairs unattended—an +arrangement not at all to her liking, for she would fain +still retain all the airs and customs of a beauty yet in the +heyday of sunshiny existence.</p> + +<p>She swept one searching glance round the suite of +crowded rooms, seeking the unwelcome figure of Lois +Turquand.</p> + +<p>It was the work of some minutes discovering Lois. +The young girl stood a little apart from the throng, her +graceful head slightly bent as she listened to the earnest +words of a stately dowager, who was probably congratulating +her upon her change of fortune.</p> + +<p>There was a dignity and a certain consciousness in +Lois’ bearing which Mrs. Desfrayne had never noticed +with her before. She reproached herself now for having +been so uniformly cold and frigid with the girl, for she +adored wealth, and she judged by herself that it was +impossible the new-made heiress could overlook or forgive +all the petty slights she had suffered from the insolent +widow.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne was going to address Lady Quaintree, +when Miss Turquand crossed quickly, not perceiving her. +She laid a detaining hand on the young girl’s arm.</p> + +<p>“I am delighted to hear of your good fortune, my +dear,” she said, with a little perceptible embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Lois raised her clear eyes, and looked for a moment +into the suavely smiling face before her with an expression +difficult to define. Then she bowed: it was a perfectly +gracious but decidedly icy inclination. She did not +answer in words; but, with an ambiguous smile, passed +on.</p> + +<p>Never for an instant could Mrs. Desfrayne have imagined +in her wildest fancies that the tables could have +been so completely turned upon her.</p> + +<p>It was a fine moral lesson, only, unfortunately, it fell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> +short of its mark; and the coldness of Miss Turquand, +partly unintentional and partly arising from habit, made +the haughty woman of the world detest yet more the girl +whom she had hitherto simply ignored and noticed as little +as if she had been a piece of furniture of very ordinary +importance.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne turned pale with rage. She almost +wished the old man who had made the eccentric will had +been sunk to the bottom of the sea ere he had committed +his money and his ridiculous desires to paper. <i>That girl</i> +the wife of her son! Truly, she had need be radiant +with the glitter of gold before she could possess any attractions +in the eyes of this proud and ambitious, yet +narrow-minded, woman.</p> + +<p>Many mothers are quite willing to think with some +complacence of an ideal wife for their sons—a wife to +be selected by themselves, perhaps: a creature of the +imagination. But when it comes to be a matter of sober +reality—when there is a real flesh-and-blood being, not +a stone ideal, set before them—why, it is a very different +affair.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne made her way to Lady Quaintree, and +promised herself that she would arrange for a long chat +on this absorbing subject, if she could persuade her good +hostess to ask for her company in a drive round the park.</p> + +<p>During the singing of some Italian duets by the artists +who had been gathered together for the night, she contrived +to learn a good deal.</p> + +<p>One thing she accidentally ascertained which a little +modified her vague schemes and speculations.</p> + +<p>She discovered that hitherto Lady Quaintree had been +in terror lest her son Gerald should fall in love with Miss +Turquand. Now this would be the most desirable thing +that could happen, even if the young girl were shorn of +half her newly acquired fortune.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree did not know she was betraying her +secret wishes, but Mrs. Desfrayne was very quick-witted, +and at the same time a pattern of tranquil discretion.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley did not leave the charmed precincts +of the house until he could not stay any longer. The +more the object of his passionate attachment was withdrawn<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +from his reach, the more mad did his longing become +to possess her. But he was an honorable man, and +all should be fair in the fight.</p> + +<p>He had closely watched Paul Desfrayne until that +young man’s departure, and the feeling of deep mistrust +against him had painfully intensified. It was with a profound +sense of relief, however, that he found neither +Captain Desfrayne nor Lois apparently disposed to cultivate +any approach to acquaintanceship.</p> + +<p>For some time before the hour fixed for supper, he had +hovered about Lois, with the hope of being able to offer +her his arm down-stairs. The sharp eyes of Lady Quaintree +were on the alert, unfortunately for the success of his +plans, and to his anger and mortification he saw Lois +assigned to a stranger.</p> + +<p>As he flung himself wearily into a hansom, and lighted +his cigar for consolation during his journey homeward, +Frank Amberley had ample subject-matter for meditation.</p> + +<p>Although not so bitter or remorseful, his thoughts +were scarcely more agreeable than those of Paul Desfrayne.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE NEW VALET.</p> + + +<p>Captain Desfrayne walked with hasty, irregular steps +in the direction of his own home.</p> + +<p>The servant who admitted him said that a person was +waiting up-stairs, being earnestly desirous of an interview.</p> + +<p>“I should not have let him wait, sir,” the man added +apologetically, “only he said he had an appointment with +you for to-day, and seemed so dreadfully disappointed +because he didn’t see you.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne had altogether forgotten that he +had desired the Italian valet to call upon him. His conscience +reproached him for what he considered selfishness, +in being so engrossed; and he hurried up to his own +apartments.</p> + +<p>The doors of the inner rooms were locked; but there +was a pleasant little antechamber, almost luxuriously +furnished as a smoking-room.</p> + +<p>This was now fully lighted from a handsome chandelier; +and standing at the table in the center of the apartment +was the tall, gaunt Italian who had claimed Captain +Desfrayne’s sympathy the evening before.</p> + +<p>The evening before! It seemed to Paul Desfrayne +as if it must have been months since he had gone through +that short, half-smiling interview with his mother.</p> + +<p>The table was scattered over with newspapers, magazines, +French novels, and other aids to kill time agreeably +and intellectually at the same time.</p> + +<p>As Captain Desfrayne entered, the Italian servant was +looking at one of the papers intently—so much absorbed +that his left hand unconsciously crushed it.</p> + +<p>It was that day’s issue of an illustrated paper.</p> + +<p>The entire page upon which the eyes of the man +seemed fixed was occupied by an oval-shaped portrait of +a lady—of whom, Captain Desfrayne could not discern.</p> + +<p>The fellow clenched his right hand, and shook it at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +the mute representation of the beautiful woman, and +muttered some words in Italian, in so low a key that their +import did not reach Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>The next moment the step of the latter made the valet +start violently and turn. He fumbled with the paper, +and tried to turn over the pages, but his hands were +trembling so much that he was unable to do so; and +Captain Desfrayne was at the table before he could conceal +what had so much interested him.</p> + +<p>It was the engraved portrait of the beautiful singer +who had been sitting in the balcony in Porchester Square +the evening before.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne looked at the man, who had not had +time to compose his features. There was an expression +of deadly hatred yet lingering upon them, though he evidently +tried hard to master his emotion.</p> + +<p>For an instant Captain Desfrayne felt an almost overwhelming +desire to speak to him about the signora; but +a second thought determined him to be silent, and appear +not to have noticed the little mute scene. He resolved, +however, at all hazards, to engage this man in his service; +for his curiosity, if no deeper feeling, was strongly +excited.</p> + +<p>“My good fellow,” he began, in a very kindly tone, “I +am sincerely sorry, but I totally forgot our arrangement. +I had business of the utmost importance to attend to, and +so it slipped from my memory.”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni bowed very low, dexterously turning the paper +as he did so.</p> + +<p>“I trust you will excuse the liberty I took in waiting +for you, sir,” he answered, with profound humility. “But +I have no friend save you, if I can dare to call you a +friend.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne had resolved to take the fellow into +his service, if he were anything short of an escaped galley-slave. +He did not tell him so, however, but said very +quietly:</p> + +<p>“I hope I may be able to show you some kindness, for +you seem sorely in need of it.”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni clasped his hands, and looked at the captain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p> + +<p>“I will serve you truly and well, if you will let me,” +he cried.</p> + +<p>“What recommendations—what credentials have you +to show?” asked Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>The man eagerly unbuttoned his shabby, threadbare +coat, and, diving his thin fingers into an inner pocket, +drew forth a bundle of letters and papers. He chose one +document, which he extended to Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“This is a written character from my poor master, sir. +You knew his writing—you will see what he says of me.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne took the envelope; and opening it, +was about to extract the enclosure, when a small, folded +morsel of note-paper fell out, and dropped on the table. +Quick as lightning, Gilardoni snatched it up—not rudely, +but with a kind of panic expressed in his face and in every +gesture.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne’s eye had caught sight of the characters +before he was aware that he was guilty of any possible +indiscretion in looking upon them.</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to his face, and then receded to his +heart. Only too easily did he recognize the ill-formed +characters. It was the writing of the woman who had +influenced his life for evil—the beautiful Signora Guiscardini.</p> + +<p>With infinite presence of mind, he affected not to have +particularly observed the stray, fluttering paper, and began +to read the letter of recommendation.</p> + +<p>More than ever, he had made up his mind to receive +this man into his service. He longed to ask him, then +and there, bluntly, what the mysterious tie might be +that caused him to take so much interest in the signora, +and why he had a note written by her in his possession—a +note which he evidently feared any one else might see.</p> + +<p>He was unable to study the man’s face; for as he read +the recommendatory letter, he was conscious that the +fellow’s keen eyes were fixed upon him with a furtive +anxiety.</p> + +<p>“When can you come to me?” he asked.</p> + +<p>A glitter as of tears of delight gleamed in those +bright, half-hungry eyes, as Gilardoni eagerly answered:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> + +<p>“Any time. To-night, if you will, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. So be it.”</p> + +<p>The little details of terms and so on were soon settled. +Captain Desfrayne unlocked the door leading to +the inner apartments, and in a very few minutes Gilardoni +was occupied in noiselessly flitting about, putting +things straight with an almost womanly softness and dexterity. +Captain Desfrayne threw himself upon a sofa, +lighted a cigar, and, leaning back, watched him with a +curiosity that was attaining an uncomfortable height.</p> + +<p>“I would give a thousand pounds, if I were so rich, +to know what link there is between this poor wretch and +the star singer,” he thought. “But I am sure to know +in time, I imagine, and I must not startle him.</p> + +<p>“Give me some of those papers that are lying on the +table in the next room,” he said, aloud.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni obeyed his orders with nimble alacrity, and +lighted a reading-lamp that stood on a table at the head +of the couch.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">PLAYING AT CROSS-PURPOSES.</p> + + +<p>Captain Desfrayne selected a paper, and slowly turned +over the pages as he cut them. Some time elapsed before +he spoke; for he could not exactly frame words in which +to put the question he meant to ask.</p> + +<p>“What part of Italy did you come from?” he inquired +carelessly, following the spiral line of cigar-smoke, as he +breathed it from his lips.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni looked at him with that furtive glance Captain +Desfrayne had already noticed; but replied, without +seeming to hesitate:</p> + +<p>“From Florence, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Have you any relatives living?”</p> + +<p>“None, sir. Not one. My father and mother died +when I was a young child, leaving me to the care of a +distant relative, who has since died, and I never had +either brothers or sisters.”</p> + +<p>The faint suspicion that had arisen in Paul Desfrayne’s +mind that the brilliant prima donna might be +this fellow’s sister, was then negatived. Probably, some +humble lover of her early days, whom she had despised, +perhaps jilted? So superbly beautiful a creature, born in +an Italian village, must have had many adorers; and he +knew her to be arrogant and callous of other people’s +feelings, and incredibly vain of her own manifold attractions.</p> + +<p>“A countrywoman of yours,” he abruptly said, with an +effort at smiling, as he turned out the large, oval engraving +of Madam Guiscardini.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni could not refuse to look; but he drew back +his lips as some animals do when in a fury. The action +might pass for an affirmative smile, but it was uglier than +any frown.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he curtly replied.</p> + +<p>“Did you know her?”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni did not respond this time; but gave his attention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +to a tall vase, which he seemed to find in need +of being relieved of the dust that had accumulated round +the flutings.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne waited for a minute, and then repeated +the question.</p> + +<p>“Why, sir, everybody knows her—everybody all over +the world,” Gilardoni answered, only half-turning round.</p> + +<p>He spoke with a strong effort to display indifference; +but his manner and voice both betrayed singular constraint. +Paul Desfrayne was prepared for this, and did +not take any notice, but continued:</p> + +<p>“She was but a village girl, I suppose, when you knew +her? They say she is going to marry a Russian prince.”</p> + +<p>This time Gilardoni made a great effort, and, looking +his new master full in the face, with a vacant, uninterested +expression, said:</p> + +<p>“Do they, sir?”</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that Gilardoni was on his guard, +and would not betray more than he could possibly help.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne would not give up yet, for that eager +desire to know what secret reason this man had for hating +Madam Guiscardini so bitterly as he seemed to do +was almost unconquerable.</p> + +<p>“They say,” he went on slowly, lowering his eyes, and +taking a tiny nail-knife from his waistcoat-pocket, to keep +his glances ostentatiously employed, “that the beautiful +songstress is already married.”</p> + +<p>These men were playing at cross-purposes. The master +would have given all he possessed in the world to +have learned the secret which was of no value whatever +to the servant. Four monosyllables would have served to +unlock those dreary prison doors, and let in the light +of possible happiness upon that poor, weary soul, who +was suffering the penalty of the one mistake of his young +life.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne glanced for a swift instant at Gilardoni. +The Italian’s strong, nervous hands were clutched +fast upon the top of the chair in front of him; his face +was alternately red and pale, and his eyes were gleaming +like fire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> + +<p>“Who told you that?” he demanded, in a sepulchral +whisper.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Captain Desfrayne answered, slightly +shrugging his shoulders. “People tell you all sorts of +things about eminent singers and public characters generally.”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni leaned his long, thin body forward, and +stared his master in the face.</p> + +<p>“Then where do they say her husband is?” he demanded, +in the same sibilant whisper.</p> + +<p>The mystery seemed clearer now. He was an old lover—perhaps +once a favorite—of madam’s. It was hardly +worth the trouble of talking to the fellow; and Paul Desfrayne +felt half-enraged with himself for having done +so. But now that he wished the conversation ended, or, +rather, that he had not begun it, Gilardoni seemed determined +to continue it.</p> + +<p>“Idle gossip all, I doubt not,” Captain Desfrayne said +carelessly. “You, who come from her native village, +would be more likely than anybody else to guess who the +lucky individual might happen to be, and where he might +be found; for if she had married any one after she quitted +her village, it would have been somebody of importance.”</p> + +<p>“Somebody to talk about—somebody to be proud of,” +Gilardoni cried, his eyes flashing with a strange light. +“If she had married a poor man——”</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly; Captain Desfrayne laughed.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said. “If she had married a poor man, she +would have hated and despised him. Perhaps she did +marry a poor man, and is not able to marry the Russian +prince,” he added, knocking the ash carelessly from his +cigar.</p> + +<p>“She would have hated and despised him,” Gilardoni +repeated slowly, with intense acrimony in his accent. “Do +<i>you</i> know whether she is married or not?” he abruptly +demanded, the keen, furtive, eager, inquiring look in his +eyes again.</p> + +<p>“Come, I think we have talked enough about Madam +Guiscardini,” answered Captain Desfrayne, in almost a +harsh tone, rising from his couch. “I don’t see that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> +there can be any particular interest for you or for me in +the subject.”</p> + +<p>He felt quite sure now that this was some early lover, +who so madly adored the brilliant operatic star that he +could not bear the thought that she should belong to another, +although she never could be his. He felt disappointed +and vexed with himself for permitting his eager +curiosity to carry him so far from his customary reserve +and dignity as to lead him into gossiping with his servant, +a fellow whom until yesterday he scarcely knew existed.</p> + +<p>In a softer tone he dismissed his new attendant, telling +him some of the people about the house would show him +the room where he was to sleep. Gilardoni quitted the +room with a profound inclination, and Captain Desfrayne, +almost to his relief, was left alone.</p> + +<p>“The affair is very simple,” he muttered to himself, as +he walked to the window and threw it open to breathe the +delicious air of the fair June night—“very simple. These +Italians are so susceptible, and so revengeful. Probably +<i>la</i> Lucia flirted with him in her early days, before the +dawn of splendor and riches came upon her and led her +to think——Pooh! the story is commonplace to nausea—insipid. +I don’t care to know anything about her more +than I already know. What good would it do me?”</p> + +<p>He rested his head against the framework of the window, +and gazed abstractedly into the deserted street. The +moon had risen in full majesty, and was flooding every +place with silver light. A party of young men came +along the pavement arm in arm, singing, as the students +in “Faust” came along that memorable night.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne listened. The music was familiar to +him; the words he knew well, and could distinguish +them.</p> + +<p>The first time Paul Desfrayne had heard Lucia Guiscardini +sing upon the stage, she had sung those verses. +They haunted him yet. They now brought back memories +steeped in pain and bitterness.</p> + +<p>Wearied in body, sick at heart, he closed the window +to shut out those distasteful strains, and went with slow +steps to his bedroom.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">BUILDING ON SAND.</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne felt much as Alnaschar is described to +have felt when he found his radiant visions at an end. +She had built up a perfect Aladdin’s Palace of bright and +fairy enjoyment, and now it had faded completely.</p> + +<p>She was endowed with a lively imagination, and had +rapidly conjured up dreams as charming as they were +baseless, like a boarding-school girl building up a delicious +<i>château d’Espagne</i> with enameled bits of painted +cardboard.</p> + +<p>She had never liked the quiet, graceful girl who was +such a favorite with Lady Quaintree, and now she was in +a fair way to hate her. What, perhaps, angered her more +than anything else was that this girl should, of all others, +have been selected by some one totally unknown to her +to be her son’s wife.</p> + +<p>She had no desire that Paul should marry, though +she had a vague idea that she would be glad if he discovered +some wealthy and beautiful heiress, and was successful +in his suit. Jealous of any creature who might threaten +to divide with her the affections of her beloved child, +the thought that Lois Turquand should be her rival was +gall and wormwood. But she was keenly disappointed +in her airy hopes and expectations, raised on a foundation +of sand as they had been, with no knowledge whatever +of the circumstances of the case.</p> + +<p>Like some foolish women, and also some silly men, +she had a most objectionable habit of judging and trying +cases by the aid of imagination alone, unassisted by common +sense, and she was now suffering under a result +which a cooler head might have anticipated as just possible.</p> + +<p>The more she thought about the matter, the more angry +and disappointed she became. Indeed, she reasoned +herself into the notion that she had been badly used somehow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +by somebody in some way, and resented her injuries +accordingly.</p> + +<p>Miss Turquand had possessed one friend more in the +world than she deemed herself entitled to count. She +had now one enemy more since her sudden rise to fortune.</p> + +<p>Of Mrs. Desfrayne Miss Turquand was certainly not +thinking at this exciting period.</p> + +<p>The young girl could scarcely realize the change in her +destiny. It was like a tale in the “Arabian Nights.” +Hitherto her life had been almost uneventful, and decidedly +not unhappy. She had little occasion to look forward +to the future which lay before her, gray and shadowed, +but not dark. Her mistress, or patroness, was kind +and fond of her—honestly and truly fond, and she felt +toward her as an affectionate daughter might to an indulgent +mother. Of a cheerful and contented disposition, +she had been well satisfied with her comfortable home and +genial surroundings.</p> + +<p>Love had not touched her, though probably she had +cherished her roseate fancies and preferences, like all +other girls in their teens. Unlike many of her sisterhood, +however, she was gifted with a singularly clear insight +into character, and she was easily disenchanted.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree had met with her by accident, as it +seemed. Mrs. Turquand, left a widow at an early age, +had turned her genius for exquisite embroidery to account, +and was able to acquire a large circle of patrons. +She was gentle, obliging, prompt; she engaged assistants, +and had made an income of about four hundred a year; +but was unable to provide for her only child, having to +meet expenses large in proportion to her earnings. By +many little acts, she had pleased Lady Quaintree; and +at her death, Lois being about fourteen, her ladyship had +taken the child, who had not a relative in the world that +she knew of, and from that time the two had scarcely +parted for a day, Lois being carefully trained at home +by excellent instructors.</p> + +<p>It was a trying test just now for the girl, passing +through a fiery furnace. For a girl of eighteen, beautiful, +and not quite unconscious of her beauty—for, from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> +the nature of her position, she had been exposed to the +open fire of admiration and gallantry hardly known to +girls of a higher rank, surrounded by as sure a fence of +protection as any Chinese or Turkish princess—it was +a terrible ordeal.</p> + +<p>The oddly devised will left Lady Quaintree in a flutter +of pleasant “bother,” for she took her protégée’s affairs +in hand, and was determined to nestle the girl under her +motherly old wings more closely than ever. The dead +man’s whims interfered with a delightful little plan which +had spread into being within her constantly active brain, +as surely as they had marred Mrs. Desfrayne’s schemes.</p> + +<p>Her daughters were all married, and it was partly a +feeling of loneliness on their quitting the paternal roof +that had induced her to take Lois as her companion.</p> + +<p>She had one son. Mrs. Desfrayne did not adore her +boy more devoutly than Lady Quaintree worshiped the +Honorable Gerald Danvers. In her eyes he was the perfection +of every manly grace. He was good-looking +enough, and he regarded himself as an absolute Adonis. +He was good-natured when his whims and fancies were +not interfered with, and his great aim was to go through +life with as little trouble as possible.</p> + +<p>Lord Quaintree left the management of his son completely +in the hands of the mother. The Honorable Gerald +had bitterly disappointed his hopes and wounded his +pride. He had built up a delightful little castle in the +air during the boyhood of this only son, which had been +blown to the winds when the Honorable Gerald entered +his teens.</p> + +<p>He saw that nothing could be made of Gerald, and +therefore agreed, without a murmur, to the proposal of +the mother that the youth should become a soldier. However, +he resented the denseness of this handsome, empty +pate as deeply as if it had been the poor boy’s fault instead +of his misfortune.</p> + +<p>The old man was not only a great lawyer and an intellectual +giant, but tender-hearted and religious, and took +an interest in ragged-schools, refuges, and various kindred +institutions for the benefit of tangled bundles of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +patchwork clothing. If it had been possible, he would +have put his boy into the church; but Gerald was fit for +nothing.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Gerald imagined himself of a romantic +turn of mind, and he found Lois Turquand the prettiest +and decidedly the most interesting girl he had ever seen. +So he took the idea into his head that he was in love with +her, and accordingly flirted in a languid manner with her, +or tried to do so. He did not pretend to have any “intentions,” +and his mother was certain there was not any +particular danger.</p> + +<p>Lois treated his advances with supreme indifference. +He liked to see her open her great, serious eyes at some +of his silly compliments, half in astonishment, half in rebuke; +he liked to flatter himself with the notion that those +large, brilliant, liquid eyes would soften into ineffable +sweetness if he condescended to throw himself at her +feet. He was indeed as far in love with her as he could +be with anybody but himself.</p> + +<p>That he should ever be so rash, so insane, as to marry +her companion, Lady Quaintree had not feared. Had he +been a different kind of young man, she might have +dreaded the occasional intimate meeting between these +two. But there was no reason to be alarmed, and she +sunned herself in the bright, cheerful sweetness of the +young girl’s company without the slightest misgiving. +Had she been obliged to choose any one from love for her +son’s wife, she would have gathered this charming flower +from the garden of girls. And now many would try to +win Lois. Not by birth, but by wealth, she was on a level +with the sparkling beauties about her, from whom she had +hitherto been fenced off.</p> + +<p>Lois had another lover, though scarcely an acknowledged +one: Frank Amberley, Lady Quaintree’s nephew. +The affection which had crept into his heart day by day +was strong as a current flowing down from a mountain. +From the day that Lois had entered the house of Lady +Quaintree—literally from that day, for he happened to +be there the very afternoon that the young child of fourteen +had come hither—he had watched her grow up, like +some fair and beautiful plant. For four years he had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> +deeply loved this girl as he could never, never love again, +he knew.</p> + +<p>From the time he had discovered the state of his own +feelings, he had steadily sought to win her regard: that +he had gained, but not the love he prayed for. She liked +and trusted him as a friend—nothing more—not one +atom more, he was well aware. His love shone upon her +as the sun shines upon glass or water—reflected back, it +is true, but with perfect coldness.</p> + +<p>Lois vaguely surmised that he loved her, but he had +never told her so.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree ardently desired now to see Lois the +wife of her beloved son. But how about the one whom +the dead old man had decreed to be the husband of this +beautiful girl? The difficulties in the way loomed large. +He certainly had not appeared very anxious the night before +to take any advantage of his position, or to seek to +improve his acquaintance with the girl thus placed under +his charge.</p> + +<p>Great was the amazement of the Honorable Gerald +when he heard of the good fortune that had befallen Lois.</p> + +<p>“By Jove! what a crotchety old dolt!” was his exclamation. +“Why couldn’t he leave the girl untrammeled?”</p> + +<p>But he said it to himself, for Lois was standing by.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree asked her what she was going to do.</p> + +<p>“To remain exactly as I am, dearest madam.”</p> + +<p>“Absurd! Impossible, my love!”</p> + +<p>“If you wish me to be happy,” Lois pleaded, “you will +let me go on as I have done for these four peaceful years. +I wish for no change.”</p> + +<p>Her ladyship glanced keenly from her son to Lois and +back again, but without perceiving the slightest sign that +the desire expressed by Lois might be dictated by some +deeper feeling than affection for herself.</p> + +<p>“Well, my dear, be it as you will. Let us make no +change for the present, if it so please you. All I bargain +for is that we do a little delightful shopping for your +benefit, darling. You must shine with the bravest. Frank +asked if we could go to his office to see the original will;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> +but my lord has undertaken to see that everything is right, +and to save us all trouble.”</p> + +<p>Again she glanced at Lois’ face as she pronounced the +name of her nephew; but not a ray of conscious pleasure, +not a blush, betrayed a spark of interest.</p> + +<p>“My lord is very good and kind,” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“And we must run down to Gloucestershire to have +a peep at your Hall.”</p> + +<p>It was thus comfortably settled that Lois should remain +with the friends who had been so kind and considerate +to her.</p> + +<p>“Does she care for anybody? or is she still heart-free?” +Lady Quaintree asked herself.</p> + +<p>Almost unconsciously, the good lady was meditating +how she could find out without committing herself or +compromising her dignity.</p> + +<p>If wit or diplomacy could manage it, she was resolved +on securing her favorite as a wife for her son, though a +couple of days before she would not have thanked the +soothsayer who might have told her that such an event +was looming in the future as a marriage between Lois +and Gerald.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">PAUL DESFRAYNE’S WIFE.</p> + + +<p>Lady Quaintree did not let excitement interfere with +her usual plans and daily arrangements. She had settled +that they should go on Saturday—the day after that one +so memorable in Lois’ life—to the Zoological Gardens to +hear the band play; and, accordingly, at about four +o’clock, she set off with Lois and her son in the carriage.</p> + +<p>To Lois it all appeared as a dream. Everything was +the same, yet how different! Only a week ago had she +attended her patroness to this gay scene, then as her paid +if esteemed and indulged dependent. Now how was +everything altered! Her very attire proclaimed that the +tide of events had swept over her. She thought to keep +her head steady, to stand unchanged, but it was difficult. +It is as dangerous looking over an abyss clothed with +all the flowers of spring, illumined by the golden rays +of the morning sun, as to peer down from the black, +beetling brow of a precipice, jagged and repellent.</p> + +<p>“Heaven!” she cried, half-shudderingly, in the depths +of her heart, “keep my soul pure and unspotted. Help +me to do my duty now, even if I have failed in the days +gone by.”</p> + +<p>It was but too sweet for a beautiful girl of eighteen to +be suddenly paid so much court, to be coaxed to drink so +many a cup of nectar-tinctured flattery.</p> + +<p>Great was the wonderment among the large circle of +Lady Quaintree’s friends and acquaintances at the magic +change in Miss Turquand’s status in society. No one +knew the stipulations in the old man’s will. It was only +known that she was now the happy possessor of a large +fortune, in lieu of being a penniless toiler in the world’s +hive.</p> + +<p>That day Lois Turquand might have commanded a +dozen offers, some good, some bad, some indifferently +good. Many people speculated as to what would happen +next.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> + +<p>“She was sure to marry at once,” everybody said. “Her +beauty, her money, and her romantic little history would +surely obtain for her the vivid interest of some more or +less eligible individual.”</p> + +<p>The majority decided she would marry Gerald Danvers.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree had mentioned the projected visit to +the Zoo, in the hearing of Frank Amberley, and he was +haunting the gates when the little party arrived.</p> + +<p>Poor fellow! He could not resist coming, fluttering +about the flame that might end by consuming him.</p> + +<p>Gerald objected to his company, now that he had resolved +on appropriating the beautiful Lois himself. Hitherto +he had never really noticed how often or how long +Frank lingered by Miss Turquand. To-day he swelled +and fumed like some ruffled turkey-cock, as Frank persisted +in walking by the young girl’s left hand, as he displayed +the grace and elegance of his irreproachably +dressed person on her right.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree had meant to keep Lois near her own +side, but was obliged to loiter behind the three young +people, while a dowager friend poured some matronly +confidence into her unwilling ear.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely afternoon, and the sun glittered down +his smiles on the gay throng, sitting in flowerlike groups, +or lingering over the sward.</p> + +<p>The stroll was not a very lively one for the three somewhat +ill-matched companions. Frank Amberley’s heart +was full of despairing love and pain. Gerald Danvers +was in a downright rage. Lois felt worried and distrait. +The two young men wished each other at Jericho, or the +Arctic regions, and Miss Turquand would not have been +sorry to see herself quit of their uncongenial company.</p> + +<p>At a sudden turn they came upon Captain Desfrayne, +who had just entered the gardens. He met them so unexpectedly +that Lois was taken by surprise, and so was +he. They stood for a moment staring at one another, +then Paul Desfrayne recollected himself, and lifted his +hat. Miss Turquand went through the conventional +obeisance.</p> + +<p>A few words—what they were neither knew. Captain +Desfrayne exchanged courtesies for a brief moment with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +Frank Amberley, and bowed to Lady Quaintree, who was +only a short way in arrear. Then he vanished as quickly +as he had appeared.</p> + +<p>The faint tinge of rose color on Lois Turquand’s cheeks +deepened visibly as she hurriedly passed on. A strange +kind of resentment rose up in her breast, and made her +eyes glitter with anger. At a second reflection, however, +reason came to her aid.</p> + +<p>“It was not his fault,” she argued to herself, “that the +kind old man to whom I owe my good fortune made an +arrangement which is probably as distasteful to him as it +is to me. I must not blame him. In fact, I am very much +obliged to him, for I feel I should only be rude to him if +he tried to talk to me. I don’t believe I ever could like +him. He seems, though, to have pleasant, kindly eyes, +from the hasty glance I had.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne moved away as if from the vicinity of +the plague.</p> + +<p>“Confound it!” he muttered, going he hardly knew +whither. “What bewitchingly lovely eyes that girl has, +though she is so cold and formal; what magnificent hair, +and the grace of a queen! I wish her better luck. Why +couldn’t the old man have left his money rationally, and +not make such a silly, preposterous, aggravating muddle +behind him! Well, after all, I have nobody to blame but +myself. My sins be on my own head; only I wish nobody +else had been dragged in. If it were not for my mother, +I should not care so much. Yet, after all, why need I +linger in this life of misery? Would it not be better—better +to stable my white elephant in the neighboring +mews, and so let my fatal secret out at once?”</p> + +<p>He laughed aloud, cynically, bitterly.</p> + +<p>Having escaped from the neighborhood of Lady Quaintree’s +party, he took a turn to ascertain if his mother was +in the gardens, for she had sent him a pressing message +to ask him to meet her; but finding that she had not, +apparently, arrived, he walked listlessly away at random.</p> + +<p>Attracted by the solitary aspect of the quarter, he +roamed toward the place where the lions and tigers lay, +strode to and fro with stealthy step, or sat with magisterial +gravity.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne had walked literally into the lion’s den.</p> + +<p>A woman, young, strikingly handsome, dressed to perfection, +was standing in front of the center compartment.</p> + +<p>Madam Lucia Guiscardini!</p> + +<p>Had any one of the brutes strolled out of its den, and +held out a paw of greeting, the young man’s face could +scarcely have worn an expression of greater dismay.</p> + +<p>Had it been possible, he would have retreated. But the +first sound of his firm, light step, made the superb Italian +turn.</p> + +<p>A heavy frown darkened her perfectly beautiful countenance, +and she steadfastly gazed upon Captain Desfrayne +with much the same look as the dangerous animals at her +elbow had.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne raised his hat mechanically.</p> + +<p>Madam Guiscardini took her small hands from off the +railing, where they had been placed with an odd sort of +grasp, and swept a curtsy almost ironical in its suavity.</p> + +<p>The young man was obliged to advance, while Madam +Guiscardini would not move an inch from the spot where +she stood, continuing to gaze at him with that disagreeable, +mesmeric expression which so painfully resembled +the look of the wild beasts that made so suggestive a +background.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Madam Guiscardini,” said Paul Desfrayne, +folding his arms, as if to prepare himself for a +stormy interview.</p> + +<p>“Did you come here to seek me, Paul Desfrayne?” she +inquired, regarding him with a baleful light in her splendid +eyes, defiance in every tone and gesture.</p> + +<p>“To seek you!” bitterly repeated the young man. “I +would go to the end of the world to avoid you—you +who——”</p> + +<p>“Come. It is a long time since we have met, and we +may be interrupted at any moment. If you have anything +to say to me, I am willing to go home now, and +either wait for you, or let you precede me. We have not +met since——”</p> + +<p>“Since our wedding-morning,” Paul Desfrayne said, +as she paused. “Not for three years. I suppose you have +never seen me from that day until this moment?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> + +<p>“I have never seen or heard of you,” she angrily retorted, +her eyes flashing ominously with premonitory +lightning. “I did not wish to see you. I did not care to +hear of you. I never asked a question about you. I +should not care if we never met again; and I should be +glad—<i>thankful</i> to hear you were dead.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you,” said Paul Desfrayne, again lifting his +hat. “If care, if regret, if bitter self-reproaches could +have killed, I should not have troubled you to-day. It +was, indeed, by no voluntary movement that I happened +to see you this afternoon. But I believe I must have +sought you ere long, to make some endeavor to arrive at +a state of things somewhat less wearying, somewhat less +wretched. My life is becoming a burden almost too heavy +to be borne.”</p> + +<p>“You can see me any day you please to appoint,” +Madam Guiscardini said angrily. “I have no desire either +to seek or to avoid you. But I do not see what good +can come of talking. Nothing can undo what has been +done; nothing could roll back the waves of that pitiless +time that has swept over you and over me.”</p> + +<p>“It remains to be seen what can be done, Madam Guiscardini,” +Captain Desfrayne answered, moving quite close +to her, and looking intently into her eyes. “Do you happen +ever to have seen, heard of, or personally known, +a man of the name of Gilardoni?”</p> + +<p>The color faded completely from the cheeks, lips, almost +from the eyes, of the beautiful prima donna.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE PRIMA DONNA’S HATE.</p> + + +<p>Lucia Guiscardini clutched at the iron bar against +which she was half-leaning, and glared into the face of +her husband, as if she would read his innermost soul.</p> + +<p>“What does he know?” she whispered to herself. “How +much does he know?”</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence for a few seconds. The signs +of emotion caused by the name of the friendless wretch +who had sought his help were not lost upon Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>Madam Guiscardini was trying to rally her forces, and +she could not reply in words. Paul Desfrayne repeated +his inquiry in another form:</p> + +<p>“You do know him?”</p> + +<p>The half-terrified woman looked straight into his eyes—those +honest eyes, so full of natural kindness and honor.</p> + +<p>Fear had blanched her cheeks and lips; shame, perhaps, +now drove the roseate hues in a flood back again, as she +answered, in a tolerably steady voice:</p> + +<p>“I do not. I have never heard of him.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! I don’t suppose my domestic affairs can possess +any interest for you, madam. It is merely a piece of egotistical +gossip to inform you that I have taken Leonardo +Gilardoni into my service.”</p> + +<p>“Into your service?”</p> + +<p>The words were pronounced slowly, with obvious difficulty, +and in a husky voice.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne did not evidence, by the slightest sign, +any triumph at the effect his unexpected shot had produced, +but silently watched her face.</p> + +<p>“Why—why have you done so? I mean, why do you +tell me of it?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot help having an idea that you knew something +of the poor fellow at one time, though he has slipped +from your memory,” Captain Desfrayne said, very calmly, +shrugging his shoulders.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + +<p>“Has he said—has he said——”</p> + +<p>She could not continue; the effort at control was too +great.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to tell how much this quiet, now half-smiling, +man before her might know of the terror that +haunted her day and night.</p> + +<p>“Has he said <i>what</i>?” demanded Paul Desfrayne, looking +her steadily in the face.</p> + +<p>“Said he knew me?” Madam Guiscardini coolly replied.</p> + +<p>But as she spoke, her fingers so convulsively twitched, +as if she were trying her utmost to curb the secret emotions +of her mind, that they snapped the delicate, carved +ivory handle of her parasol.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne, who had not once removed his eyes +from her face, laughed cynically, bitterly. His laughter +had in it more of menace than an uncontrollable outburst +of violent anger.</p> + +<p>He thought: “What can be the secret between them?” +But aloud he said, affecting to ignore the accidental betrayal +so direful as well as the agitation of his wife:</p> + +<p>“He has barely mentioned your name, and then simply +in a passing way.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask your reason for supposing I was acquainted +with him?”</p> + +<p>“I had more reasons than one. But a chief reason +was that I knew he came from your part of Italy; and +in a village everybody knows everybody else. Had he +been an old friend of yours—don’t curl your lip: you +were once as lowly placed as he, perhaps more so—you +might perchance have cared to hear something of him. +The poor wretch has been in grievous adversity, it seems: +without a friend, often without a shelter, without money; +so it is probably a fortunate thing for him that he has +found a friend in me.”</p> + +<p>“I hope he will serve you well,” said Madam Guiscardini, +in an ice-cold tone. “It shows good taste on the part +of Captain Desfrayne to recall the fact that the Guiscardini +was once a poor cottage girl in poverty—in——”</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed, and she stopped, as if afraid of rousing +her indomitable temper did she proceed. One sentence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +might ruin her. She abruptly curbed herself, and +swept another curtsy.</p> + +<p>“I have the honor to wish Captain Desfrayne good +morning, and shall be ready to receive his promised—his +threatened visit——”</p> + +<p>“On Monday afternoon,” Paul Desfrayne said sharply, +as if in positive pain. “I can endure this slavery—this +horrible bondage—no longer in silence.”</p> + +<p>“On Monday afternoon be it. You know where to find +me?”</p> + +<p>“No, I do not.”</p> + +<p>Madam Guiscardini looked with intent suspicion at +him. She hated this handsome young man with concentrated +hate, but she respected him profoundly, and she +knew he would not utter a falsehood to gain a kingdom. +Therefore she was obliged to believe him, though she had +previously imagined that his presence in Porchester +Square had been due to some plot of which she was the +object.</p> + +<p>She carefully watched him as she gave her address. +It was like a duel to the death, each adversary narrowly +eying the movements of the other. To her further mystification, +Paul Desfrayne almost sprang back in his +amazement when he heard her name the exact place where +she lived.</p> + +<p>“Where?” he demanded, as if unable to credit his ears.</p> + +<p>She coldly repeated the name of the square and the +number of the house.</p> + +<p>“Why does he seem so astonished?” she said to herself, +eying him with a glance akin to that in the yellow +orbs of the leopardess a few steps from her. “What +is the matter now?”</p> + +<p>“On Monday afternoon, then, we will have a further +explanation, Madam Guiscardini,” Paul Desfrayne said, +mastering his surprise, and raising his hat with the ceremony +he would have used to a total stranger.</p> + +<p>He left her.</p> + +<p>“Separated from my mother by a few layers of bricks +and mortar,” he thought. “I have appointed an interview,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> +but what good can come of it? None. I have made +my bed—made it of thorns and briers, and must sleep +therein with what comfort I may.”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders impatiently.</p> + +<p>“What is to be done? It would be the best and wisest +course to immediately inform my mother of the exact +state of affairs. I wish I had done so at first. I am like +those very immoral little boys in the story-books of one’s +youth, who don’t tell in time, and so the agony goes +on piling up until the culprit is next to smothered. What +is to be done with this Gordian knot? I have not the +courage to cut it. I wonder they didn’t include moral +cowardice among the deadly sins. I wonder what would +be the consequences if I did summon up sufficient nerve +to inform my mother of my culpable behavior three years +ago? Come, Paul Desfrayne, it must be done. Better be +brave at once, and march up to the cannon’s mouth, than +be found out ignominiously some day sooner or later. +Shall it be done to-day—this evening?”</p> + +<p>His reverie was broken by a light, caressing touch +upon his arm. Turning round suddenly, with a strange +sensation of nervous alarm, he found his mother by his +side.</p> + +<p>Smiling, pleasant, unsuspicious, her sunny brow unclouded +by a shadow that might possibly produce a future +wrinkle, she looked deliciously happy, and perfectly confident, +to all appearance, of his trust and affection.</p> + +<p>She started as he turned his face full upon her.</p> + +<p>“You are pale, my dear. Are you not well?” she anxiously +inquired.</p> + +<p>“Not very well, mother. The heat—the crowd—it is +such a bore altogether, that I am weary, and I should +be glad to escape.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Paul, I have seen so little of you lately, that +I grudge to lose you when I have fairly secured a chance +of your company. But”—she glanced round at the gay, +ever-moving crowd, with its lively colors, at the faces, +dotted here and there, with which she was familiar, and +a faint smile dimpled the corners of her lips—“if you will, +let us go somewhere else. Where would you like to go?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> + +<p>“Anywhere. I want a little talk with you—one of our +own old gossips, mother. It is impossible to obtain the +least chance of an uninterrupted talk here.”</p> + +<p>Yet as he spoke, his heart sank within him. It seemed +as if his confession would be more difficult to-day than +ever. To make his path more thorny, that beloved face +looked so confiding, so sure that there could not be the +shadow of a secret, that it would have been a thousand +times easier to walk up to the cannon’s mouth, than to +speak the few words that must break forever the steady +bond linking them together.</p> + +<p>But for all Mrs. Desfrayne’s calm, suave looks, she +was keenly watching her son. His absence alone had +hindered her from finding out long ago that some shadow +lay between them. Her practised, maternal eyes could +read him through.</p> + +<p>“What has happened, and why is he afraid to tell me?” +she meditated, while to outward seeming engaged in regarding +the pleasant scene about her with half-childish +interest.</p> + +<p>Her brain ran swiftly over every imaginable train of +events, possible or impossible, that might have happened, +seeking some clue to the evident mystery.</p> + +<p>Not for a moment did her mind revert to what, after +all, was the most simple and obvious explanation.</p> + +<p>They moved to quit the gardens.</p> + +<p>“Is not that the Guiscardini?” she asked of Paul.</p> + +<p>“I believe so.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne had put up her glass, so the look and +tone with which her inquiry was answered escaped her.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why,” she continued; “but I have taken +an inveterate dislike to that woman. She reminds me of +a magnificent cobra. You know, Paul, I have a foolish +way of taking likes and dislikes.”</p> + +<p>At the next step she encountered Miss Turquand.</p> + +<p>In spite of her resolve to cultivate the young girl’s +friendship, a cold inclination of the head was all that +passed between them.</p> + +<p>A warmer salutation to Lady Quaintree followed, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> +Mrs. Desfrayne was too impatient to hear what her son +had to say, to be able to stop just then for a little idle, +sunshiny gossip.</p> + +<p>Paul handed her into the brougham that was in waiting.</p> + +<p>It was a hired one, as Mrs. Desfrayne always remembered +as she was about to enter it. She had longed for +the days when either by some brilliant matrimonial stroke +on her own part, or that of her son, she should be the +happy possessor of such carriages and horses as might +please her fancy. Yet now she was secretly determined +to hinder, if possible, her son’s acceptance of a fortune +that far exceeded her most sanguine dreams.</p> + +<p>With anxiety she regarded Paul’s face as he seated +himself beside her. He was ashy pale, and his eyes were +bright with the brightness of fever.</p> + +<p>“Home,” she said to the coachman.</p> + +<p>Too wary to hasten the unwilling confession by ill-timed +or injudicious questions, Mrs. Desfrayne nestled +back in her cozy corner, and began to flirt her garden-fan, +waiting patiently.</p> + +<p>It is always the first step that forms the difficulty, and +even yet Paul could not resolve on precipitating himself +into those cold waters he so dreaded. Even did he take +the plunge, how could he introduce the subject?</p> + +<p>The drive passed, therefore, in constrained silence.</p> + +<p>It was not until they were seated in the cool, pleasant +room, called by Mrs. Desfrayne her own special retreat, +that Paul could break the ice.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne gazed with wonderment at the handsome +face of her boy, as he sat on a low chair before her, +his eyes cast down, his hands nervously playing with the +silken fringe on her dress, so unlike what she had ever +known him before.</p> + +<p>“Paul,” she said softly, leaning toward him, “you look +like a criminal. What is the matter with you?”</p> + +<p>The tone was mellow and tender, and yet with a tinge +of gentle gaiety.</p> + +<p>Paul raised his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> + +<p>“Like a criminal?” he repeated slowly. “I look like +what I am. Oh! my mother—my mother!”</p> + +<p>He slipped from the low chair, on his knees, and bowed +his face on his mother’s hands. She felt hot tears wet her +fingers, and a great terror seized her heart, for she adored +her boy.</p> + +<p>“Paul,” she whispered, “tell me what has happened!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">PAUL DESFRAYNE’S CONFESSION.</p> + + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s weakness did not last many minutes.</p> + +<p>Rising to his feet, he strode backward and forward +half a dozen times; then, pausing, he leaned his folded +arms on the back of the low, carved chair into which he +had at first thrown himself.</p> + +<p>“You alarm me, Paul. I beseech you, tell me the worst +at once,” implored his mother.</p> + +<p>“You may see with what an effort I try to approach the +secret which, for three long years, has been my curse +by day and by night,” answered Paul mournfully.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne threw out her hands with an involuntary +gesture of fear and amazement.</p> + +<p>“For three years!” she repeated, as if incredulous.</p> + +<p>“What do you imagine that secret to have been?” he +demanded, gazing steadfastly at her.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! how can I imagine when, until this +moment, I did not know you had any concealment from +me at all?” exclaimed Mrs. Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>Her accent was indicative half of despair, half of keen +reproach.</p> + +<p>“As you are aware, I have just received a most singular +offer.”</p> + +<p>“Your troubles, then, have some reference to Lois Turquand?”</p> + +<p>“In a measure, yes. You would wish me, if I understood +you aright, to take advantage, as far as in me lay, +of this offer?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne hesitated, then cried, with vehemence:</p> + +<p>“Why do you not speak plainly at once, instead of +harassing me by these hints and half-confidences?”</p> + +<p>“Because I am afraid of the effect upon you; because +I am afraid you may never be able to forgive me.”</p> + +<p>“For what offense?”</p> + +<p>“For deceit and ingratitude toward the best and kindest +of mothers.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p> + +<p>“It is impossible to comprehend you. I must only wait +for some key to your singular self-reproaches,” said Mrs. +Desfrayne, with a profound sigh.</p> + +<p>“Three years ago I went for a holiday tour to Italy, +when you were with some friends at Wiesbaden.”</p> + +<p>“I recollect perfectly well. I was disappointed because +you would not join us.”</p> + +<p>“Would to Heaven I had yielded to your wishes!”</p> + +<p>“From that time I have scarcely seen anything of you, +Paul. You have visited me by fits and starts, and have +never stayed long.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke, an idea darted into Mrs. Desfrayne’s +mind.</p> + +<p>“After traveling about in various parts of Italy, as I +kept you informed by my letters, I reached Florence.”</p> + +<p>His lips trembled as he pronounced the name of the city +which bore so many painful memories for him.</p> + +<p>“Go on, my dear.”</p> + +<p>“I remained at Florence for several weeks. While +there, I went every night to the opera.”</p> + +<p>“A very agreeable manner of spending your evenings,” +said Mrs. Desfrayne, with assumed carelessness.</p> + +<p>“There was an excellent company, and the operas were +admirably selected; but I did not go for the sake of either +performers or pieces: I went, drawn thither as by a lodestone, +because I was under some kind of strange hallucination +that I was in love with a young girl who had just +come out there. Perhaps I may have been in love with +her. It was folly—a madness!”</p> + +<p>There was no sign of emotion on Mrs. Desfrayne’s +face. She sat almost immovable as a statue, her hands +loosely clasped as they rested in her lap, her wide-open, +glowing eyes alone betraying the painful interest she felt +in her son’s words.</p> + +<p>“For some days and nights I blindly worshiped this +dazzling star from a distance,” Paul continued, having +vainly waited for some remark from his mother. “At last +I was introduced to her. She lived with some elderly +female relative, who accompanied her to the theater every +night. By degrees—very rapid degrees, for Italian girls +are very unlike their English sisters—she made me her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +confidant. She did with me as she chose. For all I knew +of her real nature, she might as well have worn a waxen +mask. Through the dishonesty of the man who had +trained her, she had been sold into a species of slavery +to the manager. Unaware of her own value, she had +bound herself to this fellow’s exclusive service for the +term of ten years, at a salary which the most subordinate +performer would have refused with scorn.”</p> + +<p>“Go on,” said his mother, on whom the truth began +to force itself.</p> + +<p>“Infatuated as I was, she easily interested me in her +story, although I had at that time no intentions of any +kind beyond——”</p> + +<p>“Beyond flirting with the girl?”</p> + +<p>“I floated with the current. I was incapable of reasoning, +as much so as any one bereft of their natural senses. +One night I was behind the scenes; the house took fire. +There was a fearful panic, and hundreds were injured—many +killed. This young girl clung to me, and somehow +I carried her out of the theater by the stage-door—I +believe so, for I remembered nothing from the time I +caught her up in my arms until a moment of amazed +weakness, when I woke up to find myself lying in a +strange room, this girl sitting by me. I then learned +that, as I rushed out, bearing her in my arms, a blazing +beam of timber had fallen, and dangerously wounded +me.”</p> + +<p>An exclamation escaped Mrs. Desfrayne, and she half-rose +from her seat.</p> + +<p>“What am I to hear?” she cried, as if in anguish. +“And you never told me of this illness!”</p> + +<p>“Let me finish, now that I have begun. I had been ill +for weeks in the old home on the outskirts of Florence, +where this girl lived, with her aged attendant or relative. +Unhappily—most unhappily—they both imagined +I was an English milord. I believe that my servant had +deceived them by bragging of my wealth and importance.”</p> + +<p>“How did he dare to permit you to remain in that +place instead of having you carried to your own lodgings?” +demanded Mrs. Desfrayne.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> + +<p>“When I fell, the girl and I were put into some kind +of vehicle, and she took me to her own home. Her object +was, I believe, to have me under the immediate +pressure of her influence. When Reynolds, my servant, +heard of what had occurred, he flew to my side; but the +physician who attended me would not, or could not, hear +of my removal. Reynolds, poor soul, was seized, a day +or two after, with a fever, from which he did not recover +for months.”</p> + +<p>“I see now the drift of your history,” said Mrs. Desfrayne, +in a tone which showed that she was wounded +to the depths of her heart. “It is the hackneyed story of +the young man who falls ill marrying the handsome young +woman who nurses him.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne turned aside, and took a hasty stride +to and fro; then he returned, resuming his position.</p> + +<p>“She was, or pretended to be, full of joy and gratitude +on my recovery. During the days of my convalescence, +she spoke to me fully of her state of bondage, her anger +at the injustice done her, her desire for liberty, and affected +to make no secret of what she averred was desperate +love for myself. My sympathies were enlisted for her; +my vanity was aroused in her favor. I at length——”</p> + +<p>“Asked her to marry you?” laughed his mother.</p> + +<p>“No. Her agreement with the manager bound her for +ten years, under a heavy penalty. I desired that she +should leave the stage, although I felt it would be next +to an impossibility to marry this girl. I remembered your +strong prejudices against stage-performers——”</p> + +<p>“Ah! You did think of me once.”</p> + +<p>“I rarely forgot you in my most insane moments. I +thought of my position, of the traditions of my family. +I would have freed her if I could, and then fled her presence; +for I felt it would be impossible to make this girl +your daughter, though her name was stainless, and she +was superbly beautiful, and gifted with talents of a certain +kind. But I could not rescue her by money from the +clutches of the old wolf who had laid a claw upon her. +It would have needed thousands, and I should perhaps +have left myself penniless, and—and looking very like a +fool,” Paul added, with a cynical laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p> + +<p>“You married the girl, then?” said Mrs. Desfrayne +eagerly, anxious to ascertain the exact position of her +son, and desirous of hurrying him to an immediate acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>“I offered to assist her in taking flight to Paris. At +least, I believed the suggestion was mine, but later I recollected +that the entire plan was arranged by herself, under +advice of the old woman who attended her. She was +restless and impatient until we had completed every preparation +to leave Florence forever, as she intended. I +cannot realize how it came about that I was like a puppet +in her hands.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne shrugged her shoulders with a kind of +disdainful compassion.</p> + +<p>“We started late on a Friday, the opera being closed +on that night, and arrived safely at the frontier. Then +we suddenly discovered that the old woman had not been +provided with a passport. The girl whom I had undertaken +to assist wept and sobbed with terror.”</p> + +<p>“A preconcerted affair, my poor Paul.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt. We agreed that there was nothing to be +done but to leave the old attendant behind with money +and instructions to follow as early as she possibly could, +and then to pursue our journey. For more than a week +we continued our flight. It seemed to me then more like +a strange, fascinating dream, than an incident of my real +every-day life. I fell more and more under the spell of +this beautiful siren’s beauty and insidious charm of manner, +and by the time we reached Paris I had completely +lost my senses. About three days after we reached our +destination, I made her my wife; we were married at the +British embassy.”</p> + +<p>Paul’s mother clasped her hands with a cry. The +point at which she had desired to arrive even now electrified +her. She could not have explained her own feelings +at that moment. Her brain seemed in a whirl from the +shock. The story gave her the idea that it was like one +of those fantastical dreams, where all the personages who +appear perform the most improbable tricks, and everybody +apparently does the most unlikely acts.</p> + +<p>“May I inquire the name of this amiable young person?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> +she asked, and her own voice struck her as being +strange.</p> + +<p>“It is already known to you,” answered Paul, in hollow +tones. “But I will mention it when I have finished my +narration. We were married. The ceremony over, we +returned to the hotel where I had placed her, and where +I had likewise taken up my abode. Within an hour after +this fatal bond had been tied, an accidental observation +on my part revealed to her the fact that I was <i>not</i> the +rich and titled man she had supposed me to be. I had +asked her to relinquish the stage as a profession, and she +laughingly answered that as the wife of a great English +milord it would be impossible for her to continue the +career to which she had meant to devote her life. I was +confounded at the mistake into which she had so unhappily +fallen, and endeavored to explain my real position +to her.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne tapped her foot on the carpet with such +violence that Paul stopped.</p> + +<p>“Go on—go on—go on!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“This girl, whom I up to that moment had had the +fatuity to imagine loved me for myself alone, went on in +an ecstasy dilating on the future splendors of her lot. +I at length succeeded in inducing her to listen to me. +Then I laid before her the realities of my position, my +limited income, the quietude of the life she would be +obliged to lead. I spoke of you——”</p> + +<p>“How dared you speak of me to a person like that?” +furiously asked Mrs. Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“I—well, enough. If blamelessness of life, an unspotted +name, could have atoned for other sins, even you, +mother, must have granted her absolution. Enough. She +was compelled to believe that she had made a most fearful +mistake—she was like a tiger who—— My mother, +it had been well for us—for many others—if that revelation +could have come an hour before, instead of an hour +after, our ill-starred union. The scene I never can forget. +Sometimes in the dead hours of the night I am +startled awake by the fancy that I am again going through +it. I wonder, after the successive shocks of those few +weeks, that I now live to give you the miserable recital.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> + +<p>Again he paced to and fro, as if in almost uncontrollable +emotion. This time, on again pausing, he sank into +the chair as if almost exhausted.</p> + +<p>His mother made no sign. The bitterness of her anger +and disappointment exceeded, if that were possible, his +darkest forebodings.</p> + +<p>She continued to tap her foot on the carpet, and her +jeweled fingers twined and twisted in one another as if +they must snap. This time she addressed no inquiry to +him, but sat a silent image of despair and mortified anger.</p> + +<p>“Let me make an end of my story as quickly as I can,” +Paul said, in subdued tones. He heartily wished now he +had let it still remain untold until such a time as he might +be driven to confess it. “La Lucia, after storming and +raging, registered a mighty oath never to see my face +again if she could help herself, never to carry into effect +the vows she had made at the altar—to hold herself free +as if she had never seen me. I can hardly tell you what +she said. She ironically thanked me for having helped +her to escape from one kind of slavery, though she found +herself trammeled in another, and for my care of her during +the journey, and for the consideration and delicate +courtesy I had shown her in her unprotected state, and +then swept out of the room. The next thing I heard +of my lady wife was that she had carried herself and all +her belongings off from the hotel. I never heard of her +again until Europe was ringing with her name and +fame.”</p> + +<p>“Her name?” repeated Mrs. Desfrayne mechanically.</p> + +<p>“The name I had first known her under.”</p> + +<p>“And that was?”</p> + +<p>“Lucia Guiscardini.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne sprang from her seat, and began pacing +to and fro in her turn.</p> + +<p>“Oh! it is too much—too much!” she cried. “Ungrateful, +wicked, unloving son, is it thus you have returned +the deep, unwearying affection I have ever cherished for +you?”</p> + +<p>“The most bitter reproaches you can level at me can +never equal in intensity those which I have heaped on +my own head,” Paul replied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> + +<p>“You must have been mad to let yourself be entrapped +in this way,” Mrs. Desfrayne went on. “I can scarcely +believe it is true. You are, then, really bound to this—this +singing woman who cares nothing for you, who +seems to disdain you and all belonging to you. Oh! it is +incredible. And what about Miss Turquand?”</p> + +<p>“I know not,” answered Paul wearily. “I wish to +Heaven I had never seen or heard of the eccentric old +fogy who chose to imagine himself under some debt of +gratitude to me, for then——”</p> + +<p>“Folly!” angrily interrupted his mother. “Better wish +you had never seen this woman who owns you—or that +you had not been so——”</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders with an expression indescribable.</p> + +<p>There was a brief pause.</p> + +<p>“It would be as ridiculous as it would be undignified +on my part to display any resentment against you,” Mrs. +Desfrayne resumed. “Of course, you had a right to +please yourself: though married in haste, you are repenting +at leisure. But what are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“In what way?”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! so long as that woman lives, there is +not a ray of happiness for you.”</p> + +<p>“I know it. It is a heavy penalty to pay for those few +weeks of forgetfulness, of lunacy, of fever; but hardly +so heavy to bear as the loss of the love and esteem of the +only woman in the world I ever loved, or am likely to +love.”</p> + +<p>“Whom are you talking about?” hastily demanded Mrs. +Desfrayne, a new spasm of jealousy seizing her heart.</p> + +<p>But Paul would not answer.</p> + +<p>He rested his arms on the back of the chair, and laid +his head on the support thus made. This attitude brought +vividly back to his mother’s mind the days of his childhood +and youth, when he had been all her own. How +often had she seen him thus, when he had been guilty +of some youthful fault or folly, and was penitent, yet +half-afraid he should not easily find pardon!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne’s heart was irresistibly drawn toward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> +her boy. With a soft, gentle touch, she laid one of her +white, jeweled hands on his head.</p> + +<p>“Do you speak of me?” she asked. “Ah! Paul, it is +ten thousand pities that, having committed this fatal mistake, +you did not confide in me before. What a miserable +future is before you; but you must not give way. It +must be borne. I do not reproach you. Nay, I will give +you such comfort as I can.”</p> + +<p>Paul caught her hands, and covered them with kisses.</p> + +<p>“Would that I had—would that I had told you, mother!” +he cried, looking up into her face with his open, candid +eyes, from which some of the black care had melted. +“That terrible secret has stood between me and you like +some malignant black specter.”</p> + +<p>“I dimly felt its presence now and again,” said his +mother, “though I could not believe it possible you could +deceive me. But tell me, what do you mean to do?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing. What can I do?”</p> + +<p>“True.”</p> + +<p>“As for this young lady, why, I am sorry she will be +driven to think ill of me; but any explanation would be +clearly impossible. She will have a handsome fortune in +any case, and probably marry some one infinitely more to +her taste than I should be. In two or three days my leave +of absence expires, and I go to rejoin my regiment near +Gloucester.”</p> + +<p>“I no sooner see you again than you are snatched away. +It is hard, Paul.”</p> + +<p>“Just at this juncture perhaps it will be better for me +to be out of your way. You will think more kindly of +your absent son and his faults and follies than you might +of——”</p> + +<p>“Come. Let us put away that painful subject, and not +recur to it unless necessary. Of course, it is of no earthly +use your giving another thought to this Miss Turquand.”</p> + +<p>“I think it would be as well to confide my exact position +to the lawyer who drew up the will, and who introduced +me to the young lady yesterday evening—Amberley. +I think I mentioned his name to you. He might be +able to give me a dispassionate word of advice.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne considered.</p> + +<p>“You see, my dearest mother, he would be able to look +at the matter from a mere business point of view, as he +has no interest in the affair.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” Mrs. Desfrayne slowly said, “it might be +as well to consult him. I think I have met him at Lady +Quaintree’s. Yes, it would perhaps be best to speak to +him about your most unhappy position.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne rose, and went over to his mother’s +little writing-table. As if afraid to trust to his continuance +of purpose, he sat down and wrote a few lines to +Frank Amberley, asking him to make an appointment, as +he desired to consult him on a matter of importance.</p> + +<p>He showed the note to his mother, enclosed it then in an +envelope, addressed and stamped it, leaving it on the desk +ready for the post.</p> + +<p>The ordeal he had so dreaded had been passed through. +The terrible secret had been revealed. Now he wished +he had spoken of it long ago.</p> + +<p>“You are going to Gloucester? When?”</p> + +<p>“On Wednesday. The regiment is stationed at Holston, +some miles from Gloucester.”</p> + +<p>“Holston? Why, is not that near the place where +Flore Hall is situated?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I look forward to going over the old house +once more as one of the few pleasures in store for me +down there. I feel thankful to get away now.”</p> + +<p>Neither Captain Desfrayne nor his mother knew that +the old Hall in which he had spent so many days of his +childhood had been left to Lois Turquand by her dead +benefactor.</p> + +<p>The storm had passed, leaving but little trace behind.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Desfrayne easily persuaded her son to remain for +the rest of the evening with her.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday Captain Desfrayne was to go to +Gloucester.</p> + +<p>On Monday he was to visit Madam Guiscardini, according +to the appointment made in the gardens, though +it seemed worse than useless to renew the pain and distress +he had suffered that day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> + +<p>His mother was passionately averse to his seeing the +woman who had so fatally entrapped him.</p> + +<p>“Nay, mother; it will be best to ascertain clearly how +we are to spend our future lives,” Paul said. “We must +come to a clear understanding some way.”</p> + +<p>On reaching home, he found a letter from Frank Amberley, +dated that morning, before his own had been written, +asking if it would be convenient for him to attend on +Tuesday a meeting of the partners of the firm, to go more +fully into the details of business having reference to Miss +Turquand’s affairs.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne saw it would not be so easy to shrink +from his duties as sole trustee and executor to the beautiful +Lois as he had hoped it might be.</p> + +<p>As he drifted into a broken, uneasy slumber that night, +his last thoughts turned upon Lois, sincerely trusting it +might not be necessary for the young girl to attend the +meeting.</p> + +<p>Why should he have this fear—this undercurrent of +aversion to encountering his beautiful charge?</p> + +<p>He had seen her only twice. He persuaded himself she +was cold and beautiful as an antique statue. He argued +to himself that a world-worn, half-weary man of thirty +could scarcely be acceptable to a young girl of eighteen. +He chose to feel certain that being dictated to in her +choice must of itself suffice to render him unwelcome.</p> + +<p>And yet he shrank with vague terror at the chance of +being again exposed to the danger of being obliged to +look into those soft, crystal-bright eyes, of glancing even +for a moment into those untroubled depths, where lay +mirrored the most perfect purity, loyalty, and truth.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">FRANK AMBERLEY’S EXULTATION.</p> + + +<p>Lucia Guiscardini was determined not to come face +to face again with Paul Desfrayne if she could help it.</p> + +<p>The evening of the day she saw him by accident at the +Zoological Gardens, she was obliged to appear at the +opera.</p> + +<p>Never, perhaps, had she performed more resplendently, +yet all the time she was meditating how to escape a +second interview.</p> + +<p>She settled the matter after her own fashion.</p> + +<p>Ordering her maid to pack up a few necessary things, +she started by the midnight train for Paris.</p> + +<p>“I hate him,” she said to herself, as she sank back +into a dim corner in the first-class carriage as it rattled +away from Charing Cross; “and I would kill him if I +could, and if I thought nobody could find it out. What +a weak fool I must have been! But I was in too great +a hurry to secure what I rashly imagined to be a splendid +prize. And to think that I might be a princess if I were +not tied by this hateful bond! Women have crushed others +before for less cause.”</p> + +<p>The consequence was, that when Paul Desfrayne called +at the house so strangely contiguous to that in which his +mother dwelt, he was informed that madam was not in +town.</p> + +<p>“Not in town?” he repeated, with amazement.</p> + +<p>Further inquiries elicited that madam had gone away +rather suddenly—gone to Paris, the man believed, and +had not left word when she might return.</p> + +<p>With a sense of almost relief, Paul turned away. Just +then he was glad of a reprieve, for he felt little equal to +much more violent emotion.</p> + +<p>He was infinitely relieved, too, by finding that Miss +Turquand’s presence had not been considered necessary +at the business meeting in Alderman’s Lane.</p> + +<p>The young lady had been taken down to the country,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> +one of the partners informed him, by Lady Quaintree, the +day before, to visit the mansion and grounds left by the +testator.</p> + +<p>“As you are aware, Captain Desfrayne, having read +the will, all the landed estates and house property have +been left solely for the use and benefit of Miss Turquand,” +remarked Mr. Salmon, a tall, large, white-headed +gentleman, of a jovial deportment and cheerful manners.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne bowed. He had indeed seen as +much in the terrible document; but, being preoccupied by +the vexatious clauses respecting the planned union between +himself and Lois Turquand, had not paid much +heed to the minor details.</p> + +<p>“The principal country house is, I understand, a very +handsome and substantial place,” Mr. Salmon continued, +jingling his seals musically. “I think it is situated in +Gloucestershire,” he added, looking at Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“Flore Hall, Holston, some miles from Gloucester,” +Frank Amberley replied.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne could scarcely credit his ears. He had +congratulated himself on the hope of escape, and now it +seemed he would be driven to walk into the very jaws +of danger.</p> + +<p>“Did I understand you to say that Miss Turquand has +gone to visit Flore Hall?” he asked of Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>Paul had the greatest difficulty in restraining himself +from demanding how long she would be likely to stay +there.</p> + +<p>He felt much like one of those unhappy criminals who +have been immured in a dungeon, the walls of which slowly +close in and crush them.</p> + +<p>Like one in a painful dream, he listened as affairs were +laid before him, and dry, legal questions raised and discussed.</p> + +<p>Every moment he resolved to plainly tell these calm, +legal gentlemen how he was situated, or else to distinctly +give them to understand that he would not undertake +the responsibility.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he was chiefly deterred by a vague feeling that +he might place himself in a ridiculous position. It was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +one thing to kneel, as it were, at the feet of a mother, +who might display either anger or sympathy, but would +certainly be able to comprehend his wild story; but quite +another to unveil his heart-secrets to the cool, critical eyes +of those hard-headed, tranquil men of the law.</p> + +<p>The partners, observing his wearied air, his total lack +of interest, his abstracted replies, settled each mentally +that Captain Desfrayne was not much of a man of business.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley alone watched him narrowly.</p> + +<p>“He is not mercenary, that is clear,” Mr. Amberley +thought. “What are his secret motives or reasons for +such strange behavior?”</p> + +<p>The interview ended, and Paul Desfrayne had made no +sign, save of acquiescence.</p> + +<p>Papers, memoranda of various kinds, deeds, leases, and +other dry reading had been gone through, only bringing +to him a bad headache.</p> + +<p>At last he found himself in Frank Amberley’s private +room, and free to confide as much or as little as he pleased +to the man who was his secret rival.</p> + +<p>“You wished to consult me on important business, I +believe?” Mr. Amberley said, when they were alone.</p> + +<p>“I did, if you will be kind enough to listen to me.”</p> + +<p>There was a long and painful pause.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley had a presentiment that Captain Desfrayne +was about to give him some clue to his reasons +for shunning Lois Turquand. He did not utter a word, +but began to sort some papers, to leave his visitor free to +collect his thoughts.</p> + +<p>“The fact is,” Captain Desfrayne began slowly, “I +am placed in a most embarrassing situation. I find myself +bound, in a measure, to make love to a young, beautiful, +and wealthy lady, and bribed magnificently to try and +win her, involving her in pecuniary loss if I fail to gain +her hand and heart, when——”</p> + +<p>“You speak as if something interfered to hinder you +from carrying out the agreeable wishes of the late Mr. +Vere Gardiner.”</p> + +<p>“The strongest possible reason hinders me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> + +<p>“You would not allude to a hindrance were it not your +intention to enlighten me.”</p> + +<p>“The hindrance is the most valid and insuperable one +that could exist. I am already married!”</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley pushed his chair back the few inches +that intervened between him and the wall behind, and +stared at Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“Already married!” he repeated. “Impossible! You +are jesting, surely? Pardon me, I am so much surprised +that I scarcely know what I am saying. May I ask why +you did not mention this important fact earlier?”</p> + +<p>“The subject is a most painful one, for I must frankly +confess to you that my marriage has been a most unhappy +one, and has never been publicly acknowledged.”</p> + +<p>A thrill of joy ran through Frank Amberley’s heart. +Although he could scarcely hope to win the beautiful object +of his passionate love and devotion, at least this stupendous +stumbling-block was removed out of the path.</p> + +<p>“Am I at liberty to inform the partners of the firm of +this?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they must learn it sooner or later,” Paul +Desfrayne answered, with a deep sigh. “Therefore, I +leave the matter in your hands. I trust in your kindness +and discretion not to let it be more fully known than may +be absolutely necessary.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand ought to be informed of the state +of affairs.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you will be good enough to undertake the +task?”</p> + +<p>“A sufficiently unpleasant one.”</p> + +<p>“Why so? To me it would be an impossibility; but to +you——”</p> + +<p>“It will be a mere matter of business,” Frank Amberley +remarked, as Captain Desfrayne hesitated. A slight +grimace which passed over his countenance might have +served to mark the words as ironical; but it came and +went unnoticed. “Be it so. When Miss Turquand returns, +I will take care she is duly informed of the fact +which you have confided to me. She would, perhaps, be +better pleased if the information came from yourself, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> +as you are so averse to seeing her on the subject, why, I +must simply do as you wish.”</p> + +<p>“The sooner she knows the better.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Mr. Amberley, as if another idea had occurred +to him, “I think you mentioned just now, when +down-stairs, that you were about to start for Gloucestershire, +to join your regiment. I thought you told Mr. +Salmon that you were going to Holston to-morrow, if I +understood rightly?”</p> + +<p>“Quite true.”</p> + +<p>“I have never visited the neighborhood; but if you are +anywhere near Flore Hall”—he hesitated—“the probabilities +are that you may see Miss Turquand before I +do. I have no idea how long she will remain at Holston, +and did not know a visit was contemplated: I heard of it +by accident this morning.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne reflected. Unhappily, his meditations +were neither of an agreeable nor a profitable nature.</p> + +<p>“True,” he slowly replied, speaking as if with difficulty. +“I will not seek Miss Turquand—I cannot; you must +bear with what may seem like culpable weakness; but if I +should meet her——”</p> + +<p>“I quite understand your situation and feelings, and I +hope you will treat me as a friend,” said Frank Amberley. +“I will do what I can for you; and, believe me, I +sympathize with you. Let me know if there should be +any explanation between you and the young lady, and if +you do not find a good opportunity for speaking to her on +the subject, I will undertake to act for you.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne looked into those kindly, truthful eyes, +and held out his hand, as if to mutely express his gratitude. +Then, after a few more words, he departed, wearily.</p> + +<p>“Poor fellow!” Frank Amberley thought. “They may +well paint fortune as blind. Yesterday I envied him—to-day +I cannot but pity him. So this, then, is the secret. +Poor soul! what a burden to bear.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne found, on returning home, that +Leonardo Gilardoni had arranged everything perfectly, +for the migration of the following day.</p> + +<p>He wished to mention to the Italian that Madam Guiscardini<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> +had abruptly quitted London, for the sake of observing +the effect the news might have, but he could not +bring himself voluntarily to pronounce her name.</p> + +<p>On the Wednesday morning, he started for Holston, +having bade his mother farewell. He had spent Monday +and Tuesday evening with her, and promised to write frequently.</p> + +<p>After all, the old links did not seem to be so broken +as he had feared they would be, and his mother still appeared +as she had ever done, all affection and maternal +solicitude.</p> + +<p>She had some friends in the neighborhood of Holston, +and looked forward to being able to obtain an invitation +for some weeks there.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne mentioned the discovery that Miss +Turquand had come into possession of Flore Hall—a +discovery that little gratified Mrs. Desfrayne, for the old +country-seat had belonged to one of her uncles, who had +been ruined by his extravagance.</p> + +<p>Probably she would not have been more pleased had +any wee bird whispered to her that Lois Turquand’s +mother had been lady’s-maid within its walls to the wife +of that selfsame wasteful relative. Mr. Vere Gardiner +had, in truth, purchased the house and the land belonging +to it in the hope of being able to gratify his old love by +installing her as mistress where she had once been simply +a paid servant.</p> + +<p>“There is a fate in it all,” Mrs. Desfrayne said. “How +will it end?”</p> + +<p>“How should it end, mother?” Paul replied, somewhat +sharply. “I suppose we have pretty well seen the end of +these unpleasant affairs. The worst has passed.”</p> + +<p>Poor fellow! the most bitter draft was yet to come. +The end of his fantastical life-story was very far from +view.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE MISTRESS OF FLORE HALL.</p> + + +<p>Lady Quaintree had taken a fancy into her head that +she should like to see the old Hall which now owned +Miss Lois Turquand as proprietress. Therefore, she carried +off the young girl, her maid, and a couple of male +servants, on a hasty expedition.</p> + +<p>“We will not send word we are coming, my dear,” +she half-suggested, half-commanded. “It will be most +advisable to seize the people who have the care of the +place by surprise.”</p> + +<p>Her ladyship knew nothing of the fact that Mrs. Turquand +had once lived at Flore Hall in service. Lois had +never heard her mother refer to her girl days, and was +equally ignorant with Lady Quaintree that the almost elegant, +proud woman she remembered as her mother had +originally occupied so obscure and humble a position as +lady’s-maid to a country squire’s wife.</p> + +<p>“We must engage a maid for you, my love,” said Lady +Quaintree. “It will be impossible for you to manage +without one.”</p> + +<p>Lois laughed with some gaiety, but did not answer.</p> + +<p>The journey was easily performed, without adventure. +The way was as pleasant as sunny skies, beautiful, constantly +changing scenery, and easy transit could render it.</p> + +<p>On arriving at Holston, in the evening, Lady Quaintree +found a carriage waiting at the station, for she had sent +intelligence of her advent to some friends in the vicinity, +and piqued their curiosity by hints of the beauty and romantic +history of a charming young friend she was bringing +with her.</p> + +<p>Not only a carriage, but a very pretty girl waited the +arrival of the expected guests. This girl was the daughter +of the old friends to whom Lady Quaintree was going +to pay what she had called “a flying visit.” She was +in the waiting-room, a bare, wooden-benched nook, where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> +her presence seemed like the veriest sunshine in a shady +place.</p> + +<p>She was watching from the window, and ran out on +the platform when she saw her old friend alight.</p> + +<p>A tall, symmetrically formed figure, attired in a coquettish +style, a fair, laughing face, enframed in a golden +shower of tangled curls, with blue, or, rather, violet eyes, +carnation lips, the most dazzlingly white little pearly +teeth, small hands, and dainty, arched feet, shod in high-heeled +shoes with gleaming buckles—such would be very +crude notes for a description of Blanche Dormer.</p> + +<p>The train swept onward, and in a moment the platform +was again silent and deserted, leaving Miss Dormer +free to indulge in her evidently impulsive nature, by kissing +and embracing Lady Quaintree in a very ardent manner. +Lady Quaintree could have pardoned her for a little +less show of affection, her ladyship being somewhat +averse to being made so free with.</p> + +<p>“Dearest Lady Quaintree,” cried this young lady, her +voice ringing like musical bells, “I am so glad to see you! +Mama would have come to meet you, but she is not very +well. Papa had to go to dine with Sir Charles Devereux, +or he would have come. I have not seen you since those +delightful days three years ago, when we had such a +delicious ‘time,’ as the Americans say, at that old German +<i>bade</i>.”</p> + +<p>“My dear, I have brought you a friend—Miss Lois +Turquand,” said Lady Quaintree, with gentle dignity. +“I hope you two girls will like one another.”</p> + +<p>The girls looked into one another’s eyes, and then simultaneously +obeyed some mysterious impulse by clasping +hands.</p> + +<p>“You two were little girls when I last saw you, Miss +Blanche,” Lady Quaintree said, as they descended the +stairs to enter the carriage.</p> + +<p>“I was sixteen, your ladyship,” protested Blanche. “I +am nineteen now.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! well. Fifteen or sixteen, I suppose, is very young +and childish to an old lady like me,” smiled her ladyship.</p> + +<p>On their way to The Cedars, the carriage passed the +barracks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> + +<p>Blanche eagerly directed the attention of her companions +to the place, and informed them that the present occupants +were to leave on the morrow, and a fresh regiment +was to be installed on Wednesday morning.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree politely suppressed a yawn, and +thought with mild wonderment of how easily interested +in small objects country people were. Lois listened with +equal indifference, studying the captivating lights and +shadows on her new friend’s face.</p> + +<p>Neither knew that it was the regiment to which Paul +Desfrayne belonged that was expected.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dormer was a delightful, somewhat old-fashioned +type of the country lady. Her manners were as free and +as heartily cordial as those of her daughter, but yet, like +Blanche, she was as exquisitely refined as if all her life +had been passed at court.</p> + +<p>Having established her guests to her entire satisfaction, +she began to make a bargain with Lady Quaintree for a +more extended stay than that contemplated. She protested +against their running away after a few hours, for +Lady Quaintree had settled that by the afternoon of the +next day she and Lois should drive to Flore Hall, and, +if it were at all inhabitable, stay there perhaps a day, or +a couple of days.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dormer listened with lively interest to the romantic +story of Miss Turquand’s newly acquired riches, +while Blanche coaxed the young girl into the garden for +a quiet talk.</p> + +<p>In an hour the girls had cemented a friendship that was +to last till death should them part.</p> + +<p>“I know Flore Hall quite well,” said Blanche, when +her enthusiasm had slightly subsided. “A dear, delicious, +old-fashioned place, in what my old nurse calls ‘apple-pie +order.’ You ought to fall in love with the house, the +gardens, the plantations, the shrubberies, the conservatories, +and all the rest, at first sight.”</p> + +<p>Blanche went on to give a minute description of the various +beauties of the Hall and its surroundings, until she +made Lois feel more desirous than she had yet been +to see her new possession.</p> + +<p>The next day, having been introduced to Squire Dormer,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> +and shown the house and grounds by Blanche, who +did the honors, Lois, now full of an eager interest, and +Lady Quaintree, quite girllike in her gleeful anticipation, +went to Flore Hall.</p> + +<p>There were many discussions as to how they should +go, but it had been finally decided that Miss Dormer +should drive them over in her pony-carriage.</p> + +<p>The lanes, the meadows, the sloping uplands, speckled +and dotted with sheep and kine, an occasional gleam of +sunshiny water half-hidden by alders, clumps of willows, +and long grasses, the sweet sounds of country life, the +passing jingle of the bells on a wagoner’s horses, made +the way a veritable Arcadia of summer beauty. A joyous +exhilaration filled Lois’ whole being, and she drank in +the fresh, free air as if it had been the nectar of the gods.</p> + +<p>A tolerably smart drive of about an hour’s duration +brought the visitors—for such they considered themselves—to +the massive iron gates of the park surrounding +Flore Hall.</p> + +<p>Miss Dormer drew up her cream-colored ponies, to +let the two ladies obtain a general view of the outward +walls and plantations, the pretty lodge, and the surrounding +landscape.</p> + +<p>As Lois gazed upon the scene, she for the first time realized +the dazzling change that had taken place in her position. +Her varying color betrayed the emotions of her +heart; but her companions were too much preoccupied +with their inspection to have any attention to spare.</p> + +<p>Blanche Dormer knew the place well, but she now regarded +with different eyes the familiar spot.</p> + +<p>Nothing whatever could be seen of the house from the +gates, for the walls were very high, and the trees grew +so close together that they formed an apparently impenetrable +screen.</p> + +<p>A profound, peaceful silence reigned over the place, and +but for the thin stream of smoke rising from the lodge +chimney, it might have been conceivable that this was +like one of those palaces familiar in the old fairy legends, +where invisible spirits wait, and a spell lies over all.</p> + +<p>The mounted servant who attended the ladies alighted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> +and rang the bell. The clang reverberated, and but a very +few minutes elapsed before the summons was answered.</p> + +<p>An exceedingly pleasant-looking young rustic girl came +trippingly along the neatly kept path from the lodge to +the gates, and opening a small postern door at the side, +stood, like some pretty rural figure in a quaintly designed +frame, gazing in mingled astonishment and admiration at +the visitors.</p> + +<p>In a moment or two a smile of recognition passed over +her face as she saw Miss Dormer, and she curtsied, awaiting +some explanation of the pleasure of the ladies.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree had ascertained the name of the housekeeper, +and asked if she were in the house.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my lady,” the girl said.</p> + +<p>“We wish to see her,” Miss Dormer said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, miss,” the girl again said, curtsying with rustic +civility at almost every monosyllable.</p> + +<p>“Open the gates, and let the ladies drive up to the +house,” the groom said. “Is your grandfather at home?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” the girl answered; but she unfastened the great +iron gates herself, and let them swing back.</p> + +<p>Then she closed them, when the ponies had scampered +through, and as the ladies passed up the carriage-drive +she ran back to the lodge, to inform her deaf old grandfather +that some visitors had arrived.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word,” said Lady Quaintree, as they came +in sight of the stately old pile, “you are an exceedingly +lucky girl, my Lois.”</p> + +<p>Lois smiled dreamily. No fear, no foreboding, no distrust +disturbed the soft serenity of that moment.</p> + +<p>She looked up at the house, and scanned its ivy-grown +walls, its noble turrets, and quaint old windows, its +carved terraces, the profusion of radiant flowers and +stately shrubs and grand old trees, the statues that +gleamed here and there from their leafy, embowering +shades, the fountain that flung up its glittering waters +in the summer sunshine; and while she mentally agreed +with her friend and patroness, she felt that this must be +some glowing, fantastical dream.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">GILARDONI’S LOVE-GIFT.</p> + + +<p>Flore Hall was naturally a quiet, silent place, for it had +rarely been favored by the presence of its owners since +the days when it had passed from the hands of Squire +Rashleigh, whose extravagant habits had ended in his +losing a pretty, well-cultivated estate that had been in +the family since the reign of King Henry II.</p> + +<p>The late Mr. Vere Gardiner would have settled tranquilly +down into the calm beatitude of a country gentleman’s +existence, had he succeeded in obtaining the long-yearned-for +desire of his heart—had his one only love +consented to become his wife.</p> + +<p>As a bachelor, however, he preferred the busy, changeful +round of a city or town life to the stately solitude of +the grand retreat he had purchased.</p> + +<p>The household was left almost exclusively under the +supervision of a very capable personage—Mrs. Ormsby. +This was the housekeeper whom Mr. Gardiner had found +in possession when he acquired the property, and he did +not think of displacing her.</p> + +<p>For a short time this excellent widow had dreamed of +capturing the rich owner of Flore Hall and its desirable +belongings. She was a fine woman and clever in her +way, and at first thought the wealthy yet plain Vere +Gardiner would fall an easy victim. But, after a while, +she was obliged to relinquish her ambitious hopes, for +hardly any opportunity was offered of even meeting with +the master of the stately abode where she held vice-regal +sway. Then she was fain to turn her attention to the +steward—a wiry, cool-headed old bachelor, who saw her +innocent little arts clearly enough, and amused himself +by laughing in his sleeve at the sly, good-looking widow.</p> + +<p>Due notice had been given to the housekeeper, steward, +and servants of the change of dynasty. At present, +Mrs. Ormsby knew just the name of her future mistress—no +more, not even her age or social standing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby anticipated a very grand scene indeed +when Miss Turquand should pay her first visit to the +Hall. She hardly knew whether to feel indifferent or +disgusted by the impending alterations, but wisely determined +to wait the course of events. No one could tell +her anything whatever of Miss Turquand. In her imagination, +the new proprietress seemed to be a starched old +maid, who might perhaps “come and settle here, and +worry my life out,” the widow fancied. Of a charming +young girl of eighteen, she never for an instant dreamed.</p> + +<p>When one of the few servants forming the necessarily +limited household came to inform her that three ladies +wished to see her, she supposed they were strangers, who +desired permission to view the house.</p> + +<p>She threw down her plain sewing, and quitted the +morning-room in which she was sitting—a delightful +nook, half in sun, half in shade, affording a view of the +prettiest part of the garden and of the extensive landscape +beyond.</p> + +<p>In her rich black silk and violet ribbons, she rustled +along a glass-covered way leading into the great square +hall—this a curious and fine example of quaint architecture.</p> + +<p>The ladies were at the principal door, in the pony-carriage +waiting for her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby had never seen Blanche Dormer, so that +the three aristocratic-looking ladies were all equally +strangers to her. She glanced from one to the other, +her eyes finally resting on Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Ormsby, I believe?” said her ladyship.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper curtsied affirmatively.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship proceeded to explain the reason for this +visit, and directed Mrs. Ormsby’s attention to the youthful +owner of the house.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby gazed at Lois with mingled curiosity and +surprise. Without betraying any visible emotion, however, +she begged the ladies to alight and enter.</p> + +<p>As the late Mr. Vere Gardiner had every now and then +paid a totally unexpected visit to the Hall, and gave instructions +that it was to be constantly kept in perfect order,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> +within and without, the house and grounds were +always ready for the closest inspection.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper preceded the ladies into the great +oak-carved hall, and threw open a door to the right.</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand had some idea of staying here for +to-night, if not for a couple of days,” said Lady Quaintree, +gazing around through her gold-rimmed glasses. +“Would you be able to accommodate us?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, my lady. You would wish to dine here?”</p> + +<p>“If it could be managed—yes,” said Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>“I had better order your carriage round to the stables, +then, my lady.”</p> + +<p>“My dearest Blanche, you will surely stay till morning?” +said Lady Quaintree, who seemed far more the +mistress than Lois, who had wandered to one of the long, +wide windows, and was regarding the highly cultivated +garden with pleasure and interest.</p> + +<p>“Mama would be alarmed——”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! I will send word by Stephen, your groom, +that your mama is not to expect her dear Blanchette till +she sees her. Come, that is settled.”</p> + +<p>To Blanche, who loved adventure and novelty, while +her daily existence bordered almost on monotony, the +little escapade proposed was by no means unacceptable.</p> + +<p>With the vivid fancy of a lively young girl, she already +looked forward to a not very far-distant period, +when gay revels under the auspices of her new friend +should wake this fair solitude.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby rang the bell, and presently the ponies +were seen trotting by the windows on the side next the +entrance.</p> + +<p>After a short rest, during which Lady Quaintree gave +such information to the housekeeper as she deemed advisable, +it was settled that they should be shown over +the house.</p> + +<p>Then came dinner, most excellently planned and arranged +by Mrs. Ormsby, and after that a walk and a +drive to see the gardens and plantations.</p> + +<p>As yet, it did not seem real to Lois. Lady Quaintree +and her new friend Blanche continually asked her what +she thought of this pretty place; but her replies were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> +very brief. The dreamy smile on her lips, however, and +within the clear depths of her eyes, answered eloquently +enough.</p> + +<p>Every hour Lady Quaintree coveted this girl more as +a wife for her son. This retired spot had quite taken her +fancy by storm, and she thought resentfully of the man +who had been selected as future owner of the Hall and +its mistress.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship might have dismissed the faintest spark +of hope. It would have been absolutely impossible for +Lois ever to have cared in the slightest degree for the +Honorable Gerald. She had not forgotten for one moment +the handsome face, the soft, half-melancholy eyes, +that had startled her on entering Lady Quaintree’s salon +on that now memorable evening of her life.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, had Paul Desfrayne carefully planned the +best course to arouse a tender, half-piqued interest in +the breast of this girl, he could scarcely have devised one +different from the one he was now following.</p> + +<p>The more resolutely Lois tried to drive away the recollection +of her mysterious trustee, the more his image +seemed to present itself obstinately before her. She found +herself speculating on the reasons he might have for +avoiding her, and behaving in so rude and cold a manner +when obliged to address her.</p> + +<p>Only twice had she seen him, and already she was +annoyed by finding herself wondering frequently where +and when she should see him again. To her girlish +mind the explanation of his coldness was easy enough.</p> + +<p>“He loves another, and is probably annoyed as much +as I can be by the painfully embarrassing bargain made +between us by the kind old man who has been the benefactor +of us both,” she thought.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to her that perhaps Captain Desfrayne, +while not base enough to seek to win the splendid +fortune in view by marrying one girl when he loved +another, might yet desire to save the part promised to +him by driving her to refuse to fulfil the contract. She +might have remembered that he was to receive fifty +thousand pounds if the refusal emanated from her, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +only ten if he were the one to decline acceding to the +wishes of the dead old man.</p> + +<p>Lois Turquand, however, was as little worldly wise as +Paul Desfrayne, and her nature inclined toward romance +and sentiment.</p> + +<p>As mistress of the house, she was consigned by Mrs. +Ormsby to a dreadfully grand, well-nigh somber state +bedroom, while Lady Quaintree and Blanche were conducted +to a large, cheerful apartment, her ladyship wishing +to have her pretty country friend with her.</p> + +<p>Lois stood gazing around the chamber for some time +after she was left alone. Then she regarded the beautiful +gardens beneath, lying bathed in a silvery flood of +summer moonlight.</p> + +<p>All seemed so tranquil, so calm, so sweet, Lois felt as +if she could be satisfied to let her life flow onward in +this sylvan retreat without desiring a change.</p> + +<p>The morning came—the morning of the day when the +soldiers in occupancy of the barracks at Holston were to +give place to others.</p> + +<p>Lois and Blanche went out early into the grounds. +The appearance of the beautiful young owner, in so sudden +and mysterious a way, had created a profound sensation +among the servants, but, although many a pair of +curious eyes darted inquisitive glances from sheltered +corners, not a soul was visible.</p> + +<p>The bright, pleasant, laughing voices of the girls were +answered or echoed by the wild, soft warblings of innumerable +birds.</p> + +<p>Blanche was more full of delight and admiration than +even on the previous day. She led Lois down to a secluded +path, which went slopingly to a wide sheet of +water, dancing and gleaming as if crested with ten thousand +diamonds.</p> + +<p>“There is a boat somewhere about here,” said Blanche +Dormer. “I remember when we came here one day for +a picnic some few years ago, we went on the water, and +crossed over to that pavilion yonder. Do you see it?—there, +by the water’s edge, yonder, nearly hidden by trees +and climbing plants.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> + +<p>Lois looked across, and saw the fairylike summer-house.</p> + +<p>“It was an odd fancy to build it so that you could not +reach it without crossing the water,” Blanche went on. +“I am an excellent oar, and I should like to cross this +afternoon, while we leave Lady Quaintree to her siesta.”</p> + +<p>The girls returned to breakfast in the gayest of spirits. +At that hour Paul Desfrayne was being whirled down +from London.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, Gilardoni, who had attended his new +master, remarked how pale and weary he looked.</p> + +<p>Since the evening Gilardoni had entered Captain Desfrayne’s +service, and that very brief dialogue concerning +Lucia Guiscardini had passed, the name of the famous +Italian singer had never been mentioned by either. +Neither knew that the life of the other had been blighted +by this lovely snake in woman’s form.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne seemed too languid to make any effort +to rouse himself this day.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni, who appeared to have already formed a +strong attachment to the kindly man who had held out +his hand in the hour of bitter need—Gilardoni watched +him with a strange sort of yearning pity and sympathy.</p> + +<p>“This is no mere physical fatigue,” the Italian said to +himself. “Nor does it look like threatening illness. +There is some mental strain.”</p> + +<p>He at length approached his master, deferentially, yet +with the air of one who intends to be heard.</p> + +<p>“I am sure, sir, it would do you a world of good if +you were to ride out for an hour or two,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Thanks for your attention, Gilardoni, but I feel too +weary.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, sir, I believe if you were to have a breath +of fresh air, it would make all the difference,” Gilardoni +urged. “A canter along some of those leafy roads and +lanes we saw as we passed in the train would clear the +clouds off your brain. Forgive me if I make too free, but +I think——”</p> + +<p>“What do you think?” demanded his master, a little +sharply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, sir—I hope you won’t be displeased—I think +you are weary in mind, not in body.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne looked keenly at his servant for a +moment or two, then the expression that had almost attained +a frown melted into a sad smile.</p> + +<p>“You are not far wrong, Gilardoni,” he said, very +quietly. “I have been very much troubled of late by—by +business affairs.”</p> + +<p>“I trust, sir, you will not consider me intrusive.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not, my good fellow. I think I ought to +feel indebted to you for your kindly interest. I will take +your advice, and go for a canter before mess.”</p> + +<p>His horse was soon waiting for him—the animal being +one of the few luxuries Captain Desfrayne permitted +himself out of his limited income.</p> + +<p>The Italian attended him to the gates of the barracks, +and then stood gazing after him with the kind of interest +and affection so often seen in the eyes of a faithful, attached +Newfoundland dog.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with him?” he thought. “Money-troubles, +most likely. He doesn’t seem the kind of man +to be crossed in love—unless the girl he wanted liked +somebody else before she saw him. Perhaps that has +happened. I hope he will come back a little more cheerful.”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni turned to go back to his master’s rooms. +As he moved, a small, folded package lying a few steps +from him caught his quick eye. He stooped and picked +it up.</p> + +<p>Before opening it, as there was nothing on the outside +of the thin tissue-paper to indicate who the owner +might be, he felt it over with his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Feels like a small cross,” he said to himself. “I wonder +if the captain dropped it when he pulled out his handkerchief +just now.”</p> + +<p>He unfolded the paper, and displayed to view a small +gold cross, such as are worn as a pendant on the watch-chain.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni regarded this with an air of the most unqualified +amazement, mingled with an expression that +seemed to indicate rage and contending sensations of no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> +very agreeable kind. For several moments he remained +as if carved in stone, fixedly looking upon the trinket. +It was a comparatively inexpensive toy, made of burnished +gold, set with blue stones on one side, perfectly +plain on the other.</p> + +<p>“It is impossible,” Gilardoni murmured, at length, raising +his eyes, which wore a singularly startled expression. +“Oh! it cannot be the same. Why, they make these +things by the hundred. How could it be possible that it +could come into the possession of Captain Desfrayne? +Yet—yet it <i>must</i> be my fatal love-gift.”</p> + +<p>He abruptly turned the cross, and looked at the nethermost +point. Thereon was very inartistically cut or engraved +a tiny heart pierced by an arrow.</p> + +<p>“<i>Cielo!</i>” he cried, starting back. “It <i>is</i> the same. +Then has it been dropped by the captain, or how has it +come here? Am I dreaming? Am I going mad?”</p> + +<p>He turned slowly, and walked toward the barracks, +his head sunk upon his breast, as if he were overwhelmed +by painful reflections and memories.</p> + +<p>“The moment the captain returns, I shall ask him if +this was in his possession, and how he came by it. Perhaps +Lucia sold or lost it, and it fell into the hands of +some dealer, from whom he may have bought it. Yes, +that must be so.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne would probably not return for a +couple of hours. Gilardoni must wait with what patience +he could muster. By dint of arguing with himself, he +at length almost arrived at the conclusion that during +his tour in Italy the captain had purchased the gold +cross.</p> + +<p>That Captain Desfrayne had ever been acquainted with +Lucia Guiscardini, he did not for a moment dream.</p> + +<p>If the thought came into his mind that the cross had +been a gift from <i>la</i> Lucia to the young Englishman, he +dismissed it as utterly improbable.</p> + +<p>The sudden finding of the trinket that bore so many +mingled recollections with it had made him feel faint and +sick from emotion, and as the slow minutes wore away +he grew paler and paler.</p> + +<p>“She wears diamonds now that emperors scarce could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> +buy,” he said to himself, contemplating that tiny love-gift, +“yet I doubt if any of the gems that cluster in her +jewel-boxes have given her half the rapture of vanity and +pleasure that thrilled her false heart when I clasped this +little gewgaw about her neck. She pretended she loved +me, and returned my kiss—and I had the folly to believe +her true. Folly, folly, folly! Some day I may have her +at my feet, and then—aye, then——”</p> + +<p>He clenched his hand with frenzied rage.</p> + +<p>And all the time Paul Desfrayne was riding, he scarce +cared whither, under the soft, genial sunshine, that made +the landscape seem a fairy-land—riding onward, the +sport of fate, to rivet yet another link in the chain of his +strange, fevered life.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">IN THE THUNDER-STORM.</p> + + +<p>In the afternoon, fortune, deceitful, false friend that +she is, favored Blanche Dormer’s caprice for rowing +across the lake to the pretty pavilion on the other side.</p> + +<p>Her mother, Mrs. Dormer, took a fancy for driving +over to see Flore Hall, and came about four or five +o’clock.</p> + +<p>Having been escorted over the house, she was too fatigued +to go into the grounds, and, as Lady Quaintree +was not sorry for an excuse to rest, the two matrons subsided +into a pleasant, gossiping chat in what was called +the blue drawing-room, with a diminutive table between +them, whereon was set a rare tea-service of Sèvres china.</p> + +<p>The girls readily obtained leave of absence. Blanche +did not announce her intention of going on the water, +however, for she was afraid of being forbidden to do so.</p> + +<p>“It seems so droll to think of a girl like you being +sole proprietress of this big house and all this ground,” +Blanche laughingly said, as they tripped down from the +terrace into the garden. “Mama said there would be a +storm, but I don’t believe there will be a drop of rain.”</p> + +<p>A far-distant peal of thunder reverberated as she spoke, +but it seemed too far off to mean danger.</p> + +<p>Blanche again proposed crossing to the summer-house +on the other side.</p> + +<p>“I am a splendid oar,” she said, smiling, “so you need +not be afraid to trust yourself to my care.”</p> + +<p>Lois hesitated for a few moments, but the proposition +was too tempting to be resisted.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes more they were floating pleasantly +over the mirrored surface of the waters. It was so calm, +so dreamlike thus half-drifting across, that both girls +wished they were going an indefinite distance.</p> + +<p>In half a dozen minutes they were landed at the foot of +the flight of steps leading up to the summer pavilion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> + +<p>It was so quiet in this secluded spot that, to any one +totally alone, the stillness would have been oppressive. +Not a breath ruffled the leaves, not a solitary bird’s twitter +broke the silence.</p> + +<p>The pavilion was situated in the central part of a great +clump of trees, nestling amid its rich, encircling foliage +like an indolent beauty lying among velvet cushions.</p> + +<p>Partly oppressed by the dreamlike silence, and the +sultriness of the day, the young girls ascended and seated +themselves, Blanche on the first step, Lois on one of the +fragile wicker chairs.</p> + +<p>They forgot to secure their tiny bark, nor did they observe +that after a while it began to drift beyond their +reach.</p> + +<p>Neither seemed inclined to break the silence that was +partly soothing, partly oppressive. When two people +have only recently been introduced, even if mutually desirous +of extending their knowledge of one another, it is +rather difficult to start an interesting train of conversation +when the trivialities of the moment have been exhausted.</p> + +<p>Blanche Dormer, however, was never very long at a +loss. She was soon in the midst of a rattling talk such as +she enjoyed.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever been in this part of the world before?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“Never.”</p> + +<p>“You have no friends in the neighborhood?”</p> + +<p>“None whatever. I have very few friends anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“You will have plenty soon,” Miss Dormer philosophically +remarked. “I understand you were Lady Quaintree’s +companion?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I have been with her since I was fourteen.”</p> + +<p>“Are you a relative?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! dear no. My mother was—was born in quite +a different station. She was an embroideress. But she +died, and Lady Quaintree was good enough to take an +interest in me, and become my protectress.”</p> + +<p>“How kind! She is a dear, good soul. And so now +you are a great heiress. You had some rich relations, +then?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t think I had a relative in the world except +my dear mother,” said Lois, a little sadly.</p> + +<p>Blanche Dormer opened her eyes. Miss Dormer was +related to half the wealthy commons of England.</p> + +<p>“No relations!” she exclaimed, forgetting that she +was guilty of an outrageous breach of good manners in +thus expressing surprise. “How very strange! I +thought you had inherited this place and sacks of money +from your uncle.”</p> + +<p>Lois shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I had no uncles that I am aware of. My father died +when I was a baby, and I never heard my mother speak +of his relatives. She herself was an only child.”</p> + +<p>“Then why——”</p> + +<p>Miss Dormer stopped abruptly, and blushed a little. +Lois laughed as she noticed the hesitation.</p> + +<p>“Why did Mr. Gardiner make me a person of property?” +she supplied. “I cannot tell you, for, although I +read his will, I have not seen the slightest hint of his reasons +for being so generous. To tell you the truth, I have +been puzzling over it ever since.”</p> + +<p>“What a romantic mystery! Are you sure he was not +related to you, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“If he had been, they would certainly have told me +so.”</p> + +<p>“Did anybody offer you any explanation of his reasons +for leaving you his property?” asked Blanche, whose curiosity +was strongly excited on the subject.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ask? Forgive me. I am afraid you will +think I am taking unwarrantable liberties in thus cross-questioning +you,” apologized Miss Dormer.</p> + +<p>“No, I do not think so in the least. I feel happy to +think you will be my friend,” replied Lois softly. “I did +not ask any questions about Mr. Gardiner’s will, because——”</p> + +<p>She suddenly remembered why she had felt tongue-tied, +and her face became suffused with crimson. Blanche, +who was steadily regarding her, was much surprised by +this evidence of emotion; but, although her curiosity was +still further aroused, she had sufficient delicacy to restrain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> +herself, and adroitly to change the subject of conversation.</p> + +<p>She began to speak about the departure of troops from +the barracks, which were situated a couple of miles from +the vicinity of her father’s house. This gave Lois an +opportunity of recovering her composure, for which she +felt grateful, although if Blanche had pressed her much +further she would have confided to her the embarrassing +circumstances to which Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will was +likely to lead.</p> + +<p>As Miss Dormer chatted gaily, heavy splashes of +rain came suddenly pattering through the clustering +leaves, and a vivid flash of lightning, followed almost instantaneously +by a crashing peal of thunder, startled the +girls, and made them hurriedly retreat into the pretty pavilion.</p> + +<p>The day had changed as if by magic. The sky was +overcast with driving clouds like squadrons of artillery, +the sun had disappeared, the whole aspect of the bright +garden and the smiling lake had altered as if by the wave +of the wand of some malicious fairy.</p> + +<p>A summer storm had burst over the heads of these +timid girls, and they looked at each other in dismay. It +was a situation likely to become extremely unpleasant. +No one knew that they were here. Even if their screams +could be heard, it would be difficult for any one to reach +the place, as the tiny wherry was drifting about, out of +reach.</p> + +<p>The waters of the lake began to foam and lash with +frenzy. Every instant the storm increased in fury. The +girls clung to one another in affright, unable to help +shrieking when a blue-forked flame encircled them, or +a prolonged roar, as of besieging artillery, seemed to rend +the heavens asunder.</p> + +<p>Each moment it seemed as if they must be slain in that +fervent embrace.</p> + +<p>A flash of lightning, more piercing than any that +had preceded it, swept in a jagged curve over the pavilion, +and a peal of thunder shook the fragile building +to its foundations. Terrified almost beyond expression,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> +Lois clung more closely to Blanche, and then fell back +into her arms in a dead swoon.</p> + +<p>Before Blanche could collect her thoughts, herself terror-stricken +almost to the verge of insanity, a panel, +which had looked as if merely a portion of the highly +finished decorations of the airy walls, slid back, and a +gentleman suddenly faced the young girl, as she placed +Lois in a chair.</p> + +<p>This gentleman was Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to say which felt or mutely expressed +the most surprise, Miss Dormer or the stranger. +They gazed at one another in amazement for a moment +or two, and then the young man, lifting his cap with +mechanical politeness, advanced.</p> + +<p>By his military undress uniform, Blanche judged him +to be one of the newly arrived officers, but how he had +appeared as if from the solid walls, she could not conceive.</p> + +<p>From the position of Miss Dormer, who stood partly +in front of Lois, Captain Desfrayne could not see the +fainting girl’s face, but his heart sorely misgave him as +to her identity.</p> + +<p>“Madam,” he said, looking at Blanche with surprise +and compassion, “how is it that I find you in such a perilous +position?”</p> + +<p>Blanche, in a few words, explained. Then she turned +again to her friend, and, kneeling before her, tried by +every device to restore her to consciousness.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens, Miss Turquand!” murmured Captain +Desfrayne, under his breath.</p> + +<p>Faint as his tones were, however, they caught the quick +ear of Blanche Dormer.</p> + +<p>“You know her, sir?” she exclaimed, looking up in +his face.</p> + +<p>“I can scarcely claim that privilege,” he replied, with +icy coldness.</p> + +<p>He stepped quickly to the door, plucked a large, strong +leaf from the overhanging branches, which he twisted into +a cup, and, filling it with water by descending the steps +and dipping it in the lake, returned, and gave it to +Blanche.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span></p> + +<p>Then he stood by, gazing with an uncontrollable interest +upon the white, delicately chiseled face of the unconscious +Lois.</p> + +<p>“She has been alarmed by the storm?” he said presently, +as Lois began to show symptoms of returning life. +“You must not remain here.”</p> + +<p>“How can we escape?” demanded Blanche.</p> + +<p>“By the way I came. It leads by a succession of corridors +to a ruined abbey, from whence again you can +reach the Hall by passing through a labyrinth of secret +vaults and passages.”</p> + +<p>Blanche turned pale. Even this place, insecure as the +shelter was, did not appear so alarming as the way of +escape indicated.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne smiled—that half-melancholy, winning +smile that had such a charm of its own.</p> + +<p>“It sounds rather terrifying,” he said gently. “But as +I see you have let your boat drift away, you cannot reach +the house by way of the lake. Even if you had your boat, +the waters are too dangerous to be trusted, and this storm +may not abate for a couple of hours. Do not be afraid. +I know every turn well, for I used to come here constantly +when a boy. There is no other road to the house. +I presume you have come from the Hall?” he abruptly +asked. “I was informed that Miss Turquand had come +to stay for a few days there, and so I supposed——”</p> + +<p>“We rowed across the lake only about half an hour +ago, and then the sky looked as clear as—as if it were +never going to rain any more,” Blanche explained.</p> + +<p>“You have no wraps of any kind?” he added, glancing +with an odd sort of half-paternal compassion at the silken +draperies of Lois, and the cloudy azure-blue and white +skirts of her beautiful friend.</p> + +<p>Before Miss Dormer could reply, if reply were needed—for +nothing in the shape of protection against bad +weather, except one large sunshade, was visible—Lois +opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>The young officer drew back slightly, but he was the +first object upon which her gaze rested.</p> + +<p>She roused herself, and sat up.</p> + +<p>“Are you better, dearest?” anxiously asked Blanche.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> + +<p>Lois did not answer, but tried to rise from her chair. +She looked at the young man who was regarding her with +so much profound interest, and a rosy blush overspread +her face.</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne!” she murmured.</p> + +<p>He advanced one step, then paused.</p> + +<p>“You are probably surprised to see me here, Miss +Turquand,” he said. “Perhaps not more surprised than +I am to find myself within these walls, or to discover you +here. I came out for a ride, and scarcely noticed which +road my horse took, until I was overtaken by the storm. +But you must not remain here. The sooner you quit this +place the better. The storm shows no signs of abating. +Will you permit me to be your guide? Are you strong +enough to walk, Miss Turquand?”</p> + +<p>Blanche put her arms about Lois to support her. Lois +moved forward a few steps; but the agitation, however +pleasant, of the last few days, the nervous trepidation +caused by the storm, acting on a singularly susceptible +temperament, and the weakness induced by her fainting-fit, +proved too much for her to contend against, and she +swayed again, sinking into the arms of Blanche, who +caught her.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s lips compressed very firmly as he +looked at the young girl thus lying helpless. For a moment +he reflected.</p> + +<p>“I must not be a coward,” he argued with himself. +“What folly! It cannot signify to me. The sooner we +are out of this situation the better.”</p> + +<p>Then he addressed Blanche with a calm, self-possessed +manner, strangely at variance with his real feelings.</p> + +<p>“You must allow me to be more than your guide. +There is serious danger in your remaining here. May I +carry your friend?”</p> + +<p>There was no choice but to comply. He took Lois +from the arms of her companion, and lifted her in his +own strong, firm clasp. He glanced down at the pale, +statuesque face as it rested against his shoulder, but it +was impossible to even guess at his thoughts from the expression +upon his countenance, which was that of perfect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +impassibility, though a certain eager interest lurked in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>Through the door by which he had so unexpectedly +entered, down a long, apparently interminable flight of +somewhat steep steps, along one dim corridor after another, +until Blanche began to feel bewildered, and to imagine +herself in a dream.</p> + +<p>She did not attempt to address a solitary remark to the +friend who had so suddenly come like a knight of old to +the rescue of distressed damsels, but followed him with +implicit faith as he strode with a quick step onward.</p> + +<p>Once he turned his head and spoke, as if he guessed +she must feel mystified, or to break the current of his own +unpleasant thoughts.</p> + +<p>“These passages are very confusing to any one not +thoroughly acquainted with the various turnings. I believe +their origin is unknown, though the tradition still +exists of many a strange legend of how cavaliers escaped +their pursuers this way, and fled to the friendly sea.”</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said, and the strange procession +moved on until the fresh air blew in, and the dash of the +sullen rain, the soughing of the trees, told that they were +near the entrance.</p> + +<p>Left without guidance, Blanche could not have formed +the most distant idea of where she was, or which way +to take. She could see nothing but a wide expanse of +rain-blotted gray-green, looking at this moment the picture +of desolation.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne did not emerge upon the wild, stormy +scene without, however. He pushed open a door apparently +hewn from solid stone, and entered a small, dimly +lighted chapel. It was a circular building, half in ruins, +though the beautiful stained-glass windows were almost +intact.</p> + +<p>With the most tender care, Paul Desfrayne placed his +inanimate charge upon one of the carved oaken seats, +and then stood by, watching her.</p> + +<p>A half-sobbing sigh told that the young girl was reviving, +and she turned wildly, to seek for Blanche.</p> + +<p>“You are safe now, if in some discomfort,” said Captain +Desfrayne, in a reassuring tone, though he partially<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> +averted his gaze. “Will you remain here until I summon +assistance? Are you afraid to stay unprotected? There +is not the slightest fear of any intrusion. If any living +being come within these walls, it will be only some country +lout seeking shelter from the storm.”</p> + +<p>“Where are we?” asked Lois, looking about her as if +still half-dazed.</p> + +<p>“Within the walls of an old ruined abbey about three-quarters +of a mile from—from Flore Hall.” He pronounced +the name of the place with some difficulty, as if +it were distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>“But you will be obliged to go through the rain,” objected +Blanche, who was pleased by the handsome face +and chivalrous bearing of the captain.</p> + +<p>“No. If necessary, I should not hesitate to do so. My +horse is waiting for me under shelter in a ruined stable +close by, and I could soon ride the distance. But my desire +to aid you will not be put to any trial. There are +rude, covered, subterranean passages from this spot to the +Hall, and I can easily traverse them, for I know every +inch of the ground.”</p> + +<p>“What thanks do we not owe you, sir!” exclaimed +Miss Dormer.</p> + +<p>Lois remained silent, her eyes bent on the ground, her +color varying with each wave of thought that passed +through her brain.</p> + +<p>Partly rejoiced at his temporary release, partly dubious +of the propriety of quitting these timid girls, Captain +Desfrayne turned to go on his errand.</p> + +<p>As he did so, a shuffling noise startled the three. They +turned simultaneously, in alarm, and saw a big, shock-headed +country boy, apparently shaking himself awake, +rising from a seat veiled in such dim obscurity that none +of the little group had noticed the recumbent figure.</p> + +<p>The boy had taken refuge from the raging tempest +here, and had after a while dropped off asleep. Half-awakened +by the voices, he had dimly heard the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Please, zur,” he said, lugging at some stray locks of +red hair lying on his freckled forehead, “do’ee want onybody<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +to run a message to thay Hall, zur? ’Cause, if so +be ’ee do, I be main glad to do it for your honor, zur.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne looked at him in mingled doubt and +displeasure. He reflected for a moment or two, then +said:</p> + +<p>“How would you get to the Hall, boy?”</p> + +<p>“Why, zur, along thay dark places with thay pillars.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure you know the way, my lad?”</p> + +<p>“Zartain zure, zur. Whoy, often’s been the time when +me, and Bill Heath, and Joe Tollard, and all thay rest o’ +’em hev played hoide and zeek in ’em. Oh! I knows thay +way, zure enough.”</p> + +<p>It would not be possible to refuse to allow this eager +substitute to go on the pressing errand he had himself +contemplated. Paul Desfrayne was compelled to let +him go.</p> + +<p>“Well, make haste, and bring somebody to take care +of these young ladies,” he said. “What is your name—Robin +Roughhead?”</p> + +<p>“No, zur—George Netherclift.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Master George Netherclift, if ever you made +haste in your life, do so now.”</p> + +<p>The boy—a great lumping lad of fourteen or fifteen, +with a stolid, good-humored, red-yellow face, and a thick-set +figure, clad in a smock frock and a pair of tough +corduroy trousers—started on with more nimbleness than +any one would have given him credit for. In the silence, +his clattering, hob-nailed boots raised countless echoes in +the rude, vaulted passages as he trotted along.</p> + +<p>An uncomfortable embarrassment succeeded his departure. +Lois felt ashamed of her weakness, and abashed +in the presence of the tall, handsome captain, unable to +forget the secret link that in a measure bound their lives +together. Paul Desfrayne almost cursed the destiny that +had thus dragged him within those dangerous precincts +he would fain shun. Blanche Dormer caught the infection +from these two, who were acquainted with each +other, yet seemed to make some mystery of the matter, +and so she remained silent.</p> + +<p>Lois dared not lift her eyes from the ground. Paul +Desfrayne stood at some distance, viewing the rain as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +it plashed down, and regarding the now more rarely recurring +flashes of lightning with an absent air, as if his +real thoughts were far away.</p> + +<p>On setting out for his ride, he had permitted his horse +to take any road that presented itself, seeing that the way +led far from the neighborhood of Flore Hall. After a +while he had almost dropped the reins on the animal’s +neck, and allowed his mind to revert to the painful subject +of his most unhappy position—a subject but seldom +out of his memory. He had ridden slowly for a long +distance from the barracks when the first pattering drops +of rain came splashing down. Seeing that the sky was +overcast by dense black clouds, and hearing the distant +rumbling of the thunder, he had looked about for some +convenient shelter, and then, to his great surprise, found +himself close by the ruined abbey he so well remembered.</p> + +<p>Dismounting, he had secured his horse in an old ruined +stable, and then entered the familiar place, his feelings +not all pain, yet not all pleasure. That any one should +have ventured to the summer pavilion he did not for a +moment imagine. Wishing to see as much of the spot as +possible while he could do so in safety, he had rapidly +traversed the dim corridors, and, opening the door in the +paneling of the wall, had come upon the two young girls.</p> + +<p>For the first time now he recollected that he had left +his faithful Greyburn alone for some time, and feared +that perhaps the poor animal might have been frightened +by the fury of the tempest.</p> + +<p>“I trust you will not be alarmed if I leave you for a +few moments to look after my horse. I left him, as I +think I told you, in a ruined stable close at hand; but I +should be glad to know how he fares,” said Captain Desfrayne, +as the echoes of George Netherclift’s heavy steps +died away.</p> + +<p>“Oh! pray see him,” cried both girls.</p> + +<p>“I shall not be gone for more than a few minutes, and +I shall be within call,” said the young man.</p> + +<p>He went out, leaving the two young ladies together. +As he departed, he glanced for an instant at Lois.</p> + +<p>The lovely, fathomless eyes were raised to his. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +gazed as if spellbound into the dreamy, liquid depths. +Then, with an indefinable expression of mingled emotion, +he abruptly disappeared behind the angle of the old +Gothic porch.</p> + +<p>Lois’ heart seemed to stand still for a second, then began +to beat with such rapidity that she put her hand to +her side to stay its throbbing. Then she looked at +Blanche, who began to think that the mystery was simply +that the two lovers who had quarreled had unexpectedly +met again, and that pride, or the presence of a third—herself—hindered +a reconciliation.</p> + +<p>In answer to a question from Miss Turquand, she explained +how they had come hither. A vivid flash dyed the +pale cheeks of Lois when she learned how she had been +conveyed to this unknown locality.</p> + +<p>How little had she anticipated a meeting such as this +in wondering where she should see Paul Desfrayne +again! How little had she dreamed of it on Saturday +afternoon, when she had encountered him among the +gaily dressed loungers in the Zoological Gardens!</p> + +<p>It seemed as if she had known him half a lifetime now, +from some strange affinity that made his presence, his +voice, his face familiar. And yet one short week ago +she had been ignorant of his very existence.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley, whom she had seen almost daily for +four years—the four years that had brought her from +childhood to fairest maidenhood—was forgotten, save +when actually present, and then regarded as belonging to +the most formal rank of friends. She would never, unless +under pressure of some most extraordinary difficulty, +have thought of consulting him, or seeking his aid in any +way whatever.</p> + +<p>Blanche Dormer drew out her tiny jeweled watch.</p> + +<p>“What will mama think, do, or say?” she exclaimed. +“It will be enough to drive her crazy. Good heavens! +my dearest Miss Turquand, they will imagine we have +been capsized into the lake when they see the boat drifting +about. When mama’s fright is over, I shall be in +horrible disgrace. Such a thing never happened in all the +nineteen years of my life. Lady Quaintree will be like +a maniac. I shall never forgive myself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> + +<p>Lois felt Miss Dormer was speaking the truth, and +could not think of one solitary iota of consolation.</p> + +<p>They sat very silent, waiting for release from their +exceedingly disagreeable and irksome situation.</p> + +<p>Blanche was partly right in her conjectures; but fortunately +not so far as her fears pictured. The two ladies, +absorbed in their ancient memories, were so occupied that +they did not observe the coming storm till the first violent +roll of thunder, or rather the advanced flash of blue, +forked lightning, made one jump from her seat with a +scream, and caused the other to drop her dainty Sèvres +cup with a crash on the white bearskin at her feet.</p> + +<p>They knew that the girls had gone for a walk in the +grounds; but hoped they had taken warning and returned. +Lady Quaintree had rung with a jerk for her +maid, Justine, to demand if the young ladies had come in.</p> + +<p>Justine said she thought they had, and went off to ascertain. +But, unhappily, she had loitered, under pretense +of being frightened by the thunder and lightning, in company +with a tall footman, who professed to be very much +in love with her. Partly by his persuasion to linger, +partly from her own inclination to indulge in a stolen +flirtation, she stayed until minutes stole into an hour, +and she had completely forgotten her errand.</p> + +<p>Finding she did not return, Lady Quaintree took it for +granted the young ladies had come in, but perhaps with +drenched garments, and that Justine was staying to help +them in changing their attire.</p> + +<p>Fully persuaded that this must be the case, the two +dames resumed their conversation, though in a more subdued +key. They were not nervous or easily frightened +by the electrical influences which had so seriously disturbed +the young girls, and, Lady Quaintree having coolly +drawn the lace curtains across the windows, they sat +quite contentedly. It at length occurred to them as odd +that neither Lois Turquand nor Blanche should present +herself.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree rang again.</p> + +<p>“Where is Miss Turquand?—where is Miss Dormer?” +she inquired of the domestic who appeared.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, my lady,” replied the man.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> + +<p>“Where is my maid?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, my lady.”</p> + +<p>“Find her, then, and tell her to request the young ladies +to come here directly.”</p> + +<p>Presently the fellow came back, with the alarming +information that neither the young ladies nor Justine +were to be found.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” cried her ladyship, unable to credit +her ears. “Not to be found? Impossible! Nonsense! +They <i>must</i> be found! Why, my maid left me a short +time since to seek for Miss Turquand and Miss Dormer. +Oh! this is absurd!”</p> + +<p>The man departed again on a search that proved useless. +He presented himself again, fearfully, to tell her +ladyship so.</p> + +<p>The truth about Justine was that, recollecting her message +suddenly, she had flown to Miss Turquand’s room, +and then to all the probable and even improbable places +where the young ladies might be found; but, of course, +without coming on any trace of the missing ones.</p> + +<p>Thoroughly alarmed, marveling what had become of +them, and not daring to go back to her mistress, she had +darted wildly all over the house, making inquiries of +everybody she met.</p> + +<p>Several of the domestics had seen the young ladies +go out, but no one had seen them return.</p> + +<p>Forgetful, in her sore affright, of her nervous tremors +in a storm, Justine had rushed into the grounds, armed +with a big umbrella snatched up in passing through the +entrance-hall. Thus her otherwise unaccountable disappearance +was to be explained.</p> + +<p>In a short time the entire household was astir, alarmed +by the discovery that the young ladies were not within +the Hall. If not there, where were they? Of necessity, +they must be out in the grounds, perhaps in the porter’s +lodge.</p> + +<p>One servant ran down to the lodge, only to bring back +word that the young ladies had never been there.</p> + +<p>Others scattered themselves over the gardens, seeking +in the conservatories and graperies, in the plantations, +in every imaginable place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> + +<p>It was the gardener who came to the horrifying conclusion +that the girls had ventured on the lake in the +flimsy boat, and had been capsized.</p> + +<p>He found Justine wandering near the borders of the +water in a state of distraction. She could not tell that +the boat had been safely moored that morning and in the +early afternoon, but she had paused here.</p> + +<p>The gardener imprudently betrayed his suspicion, and +had the satisfaction of seeing Mademoiselle Justine fall +in a heap, in violent hysterics, objurgating herself in disjointed +sentences between whiles.</p> + +<p>In a very short time, the alarming suspicion was communicated +to the whole household, except the ladies, who +were awaiting the result of the search in terrible anxiety, +but not of positive fear, for they were sure now that the +girls had sought some convenient shelter, where they +were biding till the storm ceased.</p> + +<p>A hurried consultation was held as to what should be +done; but no one could offer a suggestion that promised +to be of the smallest service.</p> + +<p>The domestics retreated into a great greenhouse, +where they could command a view of the lake, the waters +of which now bore a sensational attraction in the eyes +of the terrified servants.</p> + +<p>No one could take the direction of affairs, for they +were all subordinate servants, ignorant, and easily distracted.</p> + +<p>It was agreed, finally, to go and consult Mrs. Ormsby, +on whom the task of breaking the tragical surmise to the +ladies would fall.</p> + +<p>Justine had been carried into a conservatory, to get +her out of the way, and left there with a couple of housemaids.</p> + +<p>A sad procession scrambled back to the house—a +somewhat noisy one, for every one had some eager, excited +remark to make, or some wondering exclamation +to utter.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby was at the top of the broad flight of +steps at the principal entrance, watching for the earliest +information. She did not venture to remain near Lady +Quaintree or Mrs. Dormer, but stood midway, as it were,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +between the terrified ladies and the band of explorers. +As they approached, she could plainly see the search had +been unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>Two or three eagerly came in advance of their fellows, +their mouths and eyes wide open, their visages full of excitement.</p> + +<p>They had not yet begun to make their story intelligible, +however, when a loud shout, in a boyish treble, made +every one look round; and a thick-set lout was seen running +toward them, waving his hands in sign that his +business was of a most urgent nature, that would not +brook delay. This boy was George Netherclift.</p> + +<p>He had, they all felt at once, come with some news of +the missing ones. But what kind of news? Were they +to hear confirmation of a tragedy? Or were the young +ladies safe and sound?</p> + +<p>George Netherclift had been running the latter part +of the way, and was considerably out of breath. As he +paused, he glanced from one of the servants to another, +in doubt as to which to address.</p> + +<p>“Well, boy,” exclaimed Mrs. Ormsby, in a sharp tone, +“what do you want? Speak quickly!”</p> + +<p>“Zoombody to bring thay young ladies from thay ould +abbey,” said the boy. “Be quick, if ’ee please. They’ll +be main tired waiting.”</p> + +<p>“They are safe and sound, then?” cried the housekeeper. +“But how in the world did they get to the ruined +abbey?”</p> + +<p>“Doan’t know, missus. Perhaps they’ull know theysells. +Will ’ee zend zoombody quick, please?”</p> + +<p>Of course, three or four male servants were at once +ready to accompany him. Mrs. Ormsby at first thought +of sending the carriage, but the abbey was nearly two +miles off by the road.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">PAUL DESFRAYNE’S REFLECTIONS.</p> + + +<p>With a heart as heavy as lead, Paul Desfrayne turned +back to rejoin the two girls, when he had ascertained +that, though trembling a little from nervous fright, his +horse, Greyburn, was quite safe. He thought what a +fortunate dispensation of Providence it would have been +had the One Hundred and Tenth Regiment been ordered +on foreign service—say, to China or Timbuctoo.</p> + +<p>How many poor fellows had been separated from all +they loved best, never to behold adored faces more this +side the grave, banished into semisolitude, while he was +forced to abide within range of his dreaded Nemesis!</p> + +<p>When he again appeared within the little chapel, he +was by no means lively company. Cold, abstracted, silent, +he seemed to make no effort to arouse himself. He +was thinking, indeed, as his eyes wandered to the high +windows through which the steady downpour of rain +could be clearly seen, what a striking emblem of his life +this black, pitiless storm might be.</p> + +<p>Lois regarded him through her long, drooping eyelashes +with mingled feelings of admiration and pique. +Her belief that his thoughts were with another gained +fresh impetus.</p> + +<p>“Yet,” she said to herself, “why need he be so uncivil +to me? Perhaps he imagines that if he were to be ordinarily +attentive, I might flatter myself he meant to ask +me to fulfil the hateful bargain. I would not marry him +if he tried to persuade me to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>The hot blood swept in wrathful waves over her face, +just now paled by affright and her fit of syncope. Anger +made her draw her slight figure up to its full height; +and when Captain Desfrayne turned and addressed some +trifling remark to her, she replied with a frigid coldness +that struck even herself as being ungrateful and ungracious.</p> + +<p>Blanche was more than ever persuaded that there had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +been a stormy quarrel, and that even yet neither chose +to advance one step toward reconciliation.</p> + +<p>It was a relief to the three when hurrying footsteps +and the sound of excited voices showed that help was at +hand.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes several men servants, headed by the +rough-pated boy who had gone in search of them, were +pressing into the chapel. One carried shawls and wraps, +and another some wine, in case the young ladies and their +deliverer should be faint.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear!—oh, dear!—oh, dear!” cried Blanche, with +a great sigh. “What <i>will</i> mama and Lady Quaintree +say? How I shall be scolded and cried over! It has been +my fault entirely.”</p> + +<p>“We were both to blame,” answered Lois.</p> + +<p>“No; I planned our escapade, and persuaded you, and +forgot to make our boat fast.”</p> + +<p>“The boat would have been of no use to you, Miss +Dormer, in such a storm,” said Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“True. It has been a most unlucky affair altogether,” +sighed Blanche.</p> + +<p>“I presume you are now quite safe in charge of these +good people,” said the young man. “There will be no +impropriety in leaving you, I trust—you and Miss Turquand?”</p> + +<p>He bent his eyes on the floor, fixing them on a flat +tombstone at his feet, as if feeling half-guilty in thus +wishing to desert them.</p> + +<p>“Why do you need to leave us, Captain Desfrayne?” +demanded Blanche, in a sharp, ringing tone, indicating +great surprise and a dash of displeasure. “Are you +obliged to go?”</p> + +<p>“I—I must return to my quarters,” answered he, still +avoiding her glance.</p> + +<p>“Oh! it will be impossible for you to go without seeing +Lady Quaintree, at least,” protested Miss Dormer. +“Besides, it is nearer to the barracks from the principal +gates of the Hall. You must, at least, pass through with +us, and just see Lady Quaintree and mama.”</p> + +<p>Paul glanced swiftly at Lois. She was standing up, +the pride of a young empress dilating her figure, displayed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> +in the turn of her head. Her face was half-averted, +as if she would not deign to take part in the +argument, but her fingers were twitching nervously in +one another.</p> + +<p>“Why should this strange mistrust—this presentiment +of deadly ill, haunt me?” Paul asked himself. “There +is no danger of my falling in love with this girl, and as +little of her honoring me with any tender regards. Probably +her heart is already fully occupied with the image +of some one else. This vague fear is simply absurd, and +I must master it. I am unwell, and my nerves are unstrung. +Perhaps I may shortly find an opportunity of +explaining to her how I am really situated. It would be +better to speak to her myself than to leave the painful +duty to others.”</p> + +<p>He gave way to Blanche’s arguments, with a tolerable +grace, though alleging that he saw no reason why he +should feel it necessary to see the elder ladies.</p> + +<p>One of the servants was directed to get his horse, and +bring it round to the front of Flore Hall; then the party +moved in the direction of the house.</p> + +<p>Lois was determined on not giving way again, but she +was faint and giddy, and at length was compelled to accept +the support of Paul Desfrayne’s arm.</p> + +<p>Not a word was exchanged on the way, though it +seemed of a wearisome length.</p> + +<p>Another profound sigh escaped Blanche as they reached +the end.</p> + +<p>“I am thankful we have you, Captain Desfrayne, as +a sort of shield,” she half-laughingly exclaimed. “They +cannot scold us so terribly when you are by, and when +you depart the worst will be over.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby had informed Lady Quaintree and Mrs. +Dormer of the state of affairs; but although aware that +the girls were in safety, the ladies had fallen into dreadful +agitation.</p> + +<p>The meeting might readily be imagined, but would +baffle description. For some minutes the elder ladies +were so much absorbed by rejoicings, tears, kisses, reproaches, +that they hardly noticed the stranger.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> + +<p>When Lois and Blanche had managed to give some intelligible +account of their adventures, Paul Desfrayne +was obliged to undergo a fresh shower of thanks, which +were most distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>“How can I contrive to escape?” he was asking himself, +when Lady Quaintree startled him by saying:</p> + +<p>“And we must really insist on your staying to dinner, +Captain Desfrayne. You would catch your death of cold +if you were to go out again while this heavy rain lasts.”</p> + +<p>The young man started back.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, madam,” he murmured. “But I—I +could not stay, I assure you.”</p> + +<p>“Come, sir, I must exercise an old woman’s authority, +and forbid you to leave us,” cried Lady Quaintree laughingly. +“Your mother is, I may say, an old friend of mine, +and I could not answer to her if her son met with any +mishap on leaving any house where I might be supposed +to have a voice. We owe you the safety of these wilful +girls, and you must allow us to see to your welfare. If +the rain does not abate, you must not ride back, but, if +you refuse to honor us by remaining under this roof for +the night, must accept the use of one of the carriages in +the coach-house.”</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was playing against her own interests; +but common charity would not have permitted her to let +a dog go out in that sullen, dashing, persistent rain.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne looked at the disheartening prospect +from the windows, and resigned himself to his fate.</p> + +<p>Without, all looked so dismal and forbidding—out +<i>there</i>, where his evil past lay crouching, ever ready to +spring up and confront him. Within here all seemed so +soft and inviting with this white and gold, and velvet +couches, and flowers in rich profusion, and these dulcet-toned, +high-bred women, symbolic of the brilliant, tempting +present, which beckoned to him, sirenlike.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind—too kind, madam,” he said, bowing +low, and speaking in a constrained, husky voice.</p> + +<p>So it was settled he should dine with them; and the +girls went away to change their dresses.</p> + +<p>Mama Dormer had brought a small portmanteau over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> +in the carriage with her, containing “a few things” required +by Blanche during her brief stay.</p> + +<p>Lois being in black did not need much alteration in +her attire, but by means of a trained, black skirt, and a +thin, high, white bodice, and a suite of jet ornaments, she +contrived to make an effective dinner-costume.</p> + +<p>By the time they rustled back to the drawing-room, +where the little party was to assemble for dinner, the +servants were lighting the wax tapers, causing a soft +glitter to illuminate the apartment.</p> + +<p>The rain had ceased. The sultry heat began to come +back, and all the windows had been thrown open, admitting +the luscious odors of the countless flowers in the +gardens. The scent of the summer roses was almost +overcoming after the rain.</p> + +<p>The last, dying rays of the setting sun dyed the sky, +from which all but a few floating, feathery clouds had +vanished away.</p> + +<p>Lois and Blanche looked irresistibly beautiful as they +entered the room, the one in her simple, somber attire, +the other in a shimmering green silken robe, trimmed +with white lace, and frilled fine muslin.</p> + +<p>As Lois came in, Paul Desfrayne’s eyes met hers, and +by some mysterious fascination, neither he nor she could +remove their gaze.</p> + +<p>The young girl trembled from some undefined feeling—a +sense of mingled pain and pleasure.</p> + +<p>Paul felt as if some gauntleted hand had mercilessly +compressed his heart. He shivered as if from cold.</p> + +<p>“I believe some malignant genius drove me out this +day,” he thought.</p> + +<p>Lois averted her eyes by a violent effort of will.</p> + +<p>“Why does he look at me like this, when he is so +cold and repellent in his manners?” she indignantly asked +herself.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree caught the glance, and partly interpreted +the looks of both.</p> + +<p>“I wish I had had the sense to stop at home,” she said +mentally. “I am afraid my Gerald’s chance will be a +small one. We really must get away to-morrow at latest. +Luckily, the gallant knight errant is pinned safely down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> +in this remote part of the world, and I must coax Lois +to go to Switzerland, or some other comfortable place, to +give my boy a fair start in the race.”</p> + +<p>Her ladyship kept a pretty sharp watch on the two +young people—Lois and her handsome young trustee. +But, during dinner, nothing rewarded her for her vigilance, +or, to speak more correctly, she was absolutely +rewarded by observing that they did not once exchange +a look, and only noticed each other’s presence when +obliged to do so by the etiquette of the table.</p> + +<p>This apparent mutual misunderstanding puzzled her a +good deal. Captain Desfrayne’s reserved manner with +his beautiful young charge perplexed her extremely. That +he should not endeavor to improve his opportunity of obtaining +favor with the young girl seemed inexplicable; +and when she found that both were evidently resolved +on steadfastly declining to pass the ice-bound line that +divided them, she marveled more and more.</p> + +<p>“There is some undercurrent here which I do not understand,” +she thought. “It seems strange, but there is +certainly some ill-will between them. What can the matter +be?”</p> + +<p>Had not Lois been her constant companion for the last +four years, during which time the young girl had been +completely ignorant of Paul Desfrayne’s existence, Lady +Quaintree might have imagined, with Blanche Dormer, +that there was a lovers’ quarrel.</p> + +<p>After cudgeling her brains for an explanation of this +mystery, a possible solution presented itself. Lady Quaintree +knew family pride to be one of Mrs. Desfrayne’s +weak points, and perhaps this peculiarity might be magnified +in her son. Remembering that if the refusal to +obey the old man’s whim came from his side, it would +involve on his part a heavy pecuniary loss, she concluded +that he wished to induce Miss Turquand to think him a +very undesirable lover, and thus to cause the refusal to +come from her.</p> + +<p>This view having presented itself, her ladyship wavered +in the resolution of at once quitting Flore Hall. +If Captain Desfrayne was determined not to profit by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +his advantageous position, but to drive Miss Turquand +to refuse him, would he not be an eligible ally?</p> + +<p>Many a girl, she knew, slighted by one, eagerly if hastily +accepted the next that offered.</p> + +<p>Yet, until she could ascertain <i>why</i> Paul Desfrayne did +not relish the bride proposed to him, she might be playing +a dangerous game in allowing him to be too near her +lovely protégée.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree felt thoroughly perplexed and unsettled, +in fact, and could only arrive finally at the conclusion +that the wisest plan would be to let herself be guided +by a cautious observation of the course of events.</p> + +<p>“I wish we could have brought Gerald down with us,” +she sighed. “However, the way must be clearer in a few +days.”</p> + +<p>At Lois’ earnest entreaty, Lady Quaintree had taken +all but the actual name of mistress in the house. She +sat at the head of the table, and played the role of hostess. +Owing to her consummate tact, the dinner did not pass +so drearily as it might otherwise have done.</p> + +<p>She gave the signal to rise, and smilingly told Captain +Desfrayne he should have half an hour’s grace to +smoke a cigar if he pleased.</p> + +<p>The ladies adjourned to the white drawing-room, +where a soft glitter of wax tapers shed a pleasant, mellow +light.</p> + +<p>Squire Dormer had arranged to come for his wife and +daughter at eight or nine o’clock. When the storm broke, +Mrs. Dormer had feared she might be obliged to stay all +night, but now the sky had cleared, the sultry heat already +nearly dried up the pools of water lying on the +garden-walks, and the silver moon had risen in royal +splendor.</p> + +<p>Blanche flew to the piano—a superb instrument as far +as appearance went, but it was very decidedly out of tune. +There was no music anywhere visible, but Miss Dormer +sat down and began playing morsels and snatches of melody +from recollection. Then she asked Lois to sing.</p> + +<p>Lois had always been accustomed to so implicitly obey +the wishes of those about her, that she did not think of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> +refusing, but took Blanche’s seat and ran her fingers +skilfully over the keys.</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel very well,” she mildly protested. “But I +will do my best.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t overexert yourself, my love,” said Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>“I should be delighted to hear you,” Mrs. Dormer +remarked, almost at the same moment.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne heard the chords of the piano from +his solitary retreat, and, being passionately fond of +music, he came out on the terrace and moved into the +leafy shadow, from whence he could view the interior +of the drawing-room without being himself seen.</p> + +<p>Lois had just seated herself as he took up this station. +The mellow, amber rays of the wax lights fell on her +graceful figure and on her stately head. From the spot +where he stood, Paul Desfrayne could watch her every +movement. Unconsciously to himself, he drank in the +sweet poison of love at every glance as he observed the +pure, statuesque lines and curves of that queenly form, +the rich, silken shimmer of the lovely hair, the harmonious, +suave grace of each motion.</p> + +<p>“I will summon up courage to-night, if I can possibly +find an opportunity,” he thought, “and tell her the truth. +I may have a chance of speaking to her. After to-night, +it will probably be months before we meet again, if we +ever do meet. She seems sweet and amiable; she is undoubtedly +as beautiful as a dream. Probably she will pity +my unhappy position, and sympathize with my misfortunes, +even if they arise from my own folly. What a +madman I have been! Truly they say: ‘Marry in haste, +repent at leisure.’ What would I not give or do to be +free once more!”</p> + +<p>Lois began to sing. She had thought for a minute or +two, and then struck the chords of a graceful symphony +to a pathetic Irish air.</p> + +<p>Her voice was clear and deliciously sweet—pure as +that of an angel. Thanks to Lady Quaintree, it had been +most carefully trained, and the young girl had a sensitive +feeling for the words as well as the music of what +she sang.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s relentless memory went back to those +feverish days when he had listened, spellbound in that +heated theater at Florence, to the siren notes of the woman +who had destroyed his happiness.</p> + +<p>The contrast between Lucia Guiscardini and Lois +Turquand was as great as between darkness and light. +In every respect they totally differed. The one was a +magnificent tigress, regal in beauty, haughty and unbending +in temper; the other a gentle white doe, lovely +and soft.</p> + +<p>Presently the song ceased. Blanche’s laced handkerchief +stole to her eyes for a moment, then she kissed her +friend by way of thanks. There was a little buzz of well-bred, +musical voices for a minute or two, and then the +girls emerged on the upper terrace as if coming out to +breathe the fresh air.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne drew back still farther within the +sheltering gloom, rendered all the more secure by the +increasing splendor of the moonlight, which caused +strange, sudden contrasts of light and shade in the gardens. +The faint scent of his cigar might have warned +the girls of his proximity, but they did not notice it. +He was, however, out of ear-shot.</p> + +<p>For a moment he thought of ascending the short flight +of steps leading from the lower to the upper terrace, but +feeling that in his present depressed state he would be +poor company, he elected to stay where he was.</p> + +<p>Within half an hour he resolved to take leave of his +entertainers, and ride home.</p> + +<p>“Home!” he said to himself bitterly. “I have no home—no +prospect of home. No home, no peace, no rest. I +am like a gambler who has staked and lost a fortune at +one fatal throw. And my unrest is made all the more +poignant by the tempting will-o’-the-wisp fate has sent +to dance before me, mockingly.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">BLANCHE DORMER’S SURPRISE.</p> + + +<p>The peace and purity of the night indisposed Lois to +talk, and Blanche was meditating on how far the proprieties +might admit of her sounding her new friend on +the subject of the supposed estrangement. So neither +spoke for several minutes.</p> + +<p>“A night like this always reminds me of the moonlight-scene +in the ‘Merchant of Venice,’” Blanche said, +at length. “I was afraid the storm would last until +morning; perhaps I was also afraid mama would scold +terribly. But I think when she is really alarmed, she is +too much upset to be able to scold in proper style. I +like these summer storms; the weird lightning has such a +mystic beauty of its own. I lost my head this afternoon, +but that was because we were in such a dangerous place, +and a little because I was frightened on your account, as +you seemed so terrified.”</p> + +<p>“I am nervous in a storm, always,” Lois said deprecatingly, +for she felt ashamed of her weakness.</p> + +<p>“I think it was a special mercy your friend, Captain +Desfrayne, came to our rescue. No doubt you were +amazed when you saw him. But I suppose you knew he +was coming down to this neighborhood?”</p> + +<p>“I know nothing of his movements or plans,” Lois replied +calmly. “I never heard his name until last Friday.”</p> + +<p>Miss Dormer absolutely sprang back, and stared at her +new friend in speechless surprise. Her theory had been +upset so precipitately that she was at a loss for words.</p> + +<p>“I—I thought—I fancied—that is——” she stammered, +for she felt fairly confounded, and much as if +she had walked into a trap.</p> + +<p>She heartily wished she could entirely control her +amazement and vexation at the absurdity of her mistake, +but her looks and manner betrayed her.</p> + +<p>“What do you think?” innocently inquired Lois.</p> + +<p>“Why—that is——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> + +<p>“You hesitate, Blanche?”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you will be offended.”</p> + +<p>“With you? Impossible. Pray be frank with me.”</p> + +<p>“You promised not to be vexed?”</p> + +<p>“I could not be vexed with you, my dear friend. What +did you think?”</p> + +<p>“Honestly, I thought you and Captain Desfrayne had +had a lovers’ quarrel,” Blanche said.</p> + +<p>Lois broke into a peal of silvery laughter, caused +partly by surprise, partly by pique and anger—not toward +Blanche, but toward the unhappy captain. She +threw back her head with a little scornful gesture.</p> + +<p>“You thought so? What could have led you to imagine +such a strange thing?”</p> + +<p>“Because—I don’t know how I came to be so foolish, +but—well, I saw him look at you——”</p> + +<p>“At me?”</p> + +<p>“Aye, and you at him—come, you as good as promised +not to be cross—look and speak as if—as if—that is to +say—well, in truth, I can hardly say what caused me to +jump to my odd conclusion, but I did make the silly +spring, and I find myself landed on exceedingly unpleasant +ground.”</p> + +<p>Lois had known Blanche only two days, although she +felt a strong presentiment that the friendship just cemented +would endure for a lifetime. Blanche was the +first friend she had ever possessed, and she was sure she +might be trusted, yet prudence caused her to hesitate before +entrusting Miss Dormer with the secret of her +strange relationship with Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>Blanche was fairly puzzled, and her feminine curiosity +aroused. Quite confident that Lois had spoken truly in +saying that Captain Desfrayne was almost a stranger to +her, she yet could not help believing that there was +some good reason for her thinking that some more than +ordinary feeling caused a mutual interest or dislike.</p> + +<p>Lois placed her arm caressingly round Blanche’s waist, +and laid her cheek on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Blanche,” she said, “I am going to tell you something +about myself and Captain Desfrayne, which will, I +have no doubt, surprise you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> + +<p>Miss Dormer shrank a little, as if she had been guilty +of trying to surprise a confidence she was not entitled to.</p> + +<p>“I hope,” she said, “you do not think me inquisitive. +I am sorry I allowed myself to make any remarks.”</p> + +<p>Lois smiled.</p> + +<p>“You must let me enjoy the privileges of a friend,” +she replied. “If you will let me tell you, I think it would +be a solace to me. For although Lady Quaintree is so +good and so kind, yet——”</p> + +<p>She paused; for it would be impossible to enter into +any of the feelings which barred a perfect confidence between +herself and her late mistress. But Miss Dormer +partially comprehended, and pressed her hands warmly +in token of sympathy and encouragement.</p> + +<p>“No doubt you will wonder, knowing that my acquaintanceship +with him is of so recent a date—no doubt +you will marvel to hear that I am half-engaged to marry +Captain Desfrayne,” began Lois.</p> + +<p>“My dear!” was all Blanche could say, opening her +eyes as wide as they could expand.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I can scarcely believe the story is real.”</p> + +<p>Lois repeated to her the history of Mr. Vere Gardiner’s +will. Blanche listened in silent amazement.</p> + +<p>“How extraordinary! Then, why—why——”</p> + +<p>“Pray be as frank with me as I have been with you,” +Lois entreated.</p> + +<p>“Why does he behave in such an odd way toward you? +Does the proposition, or whatever you may call it, displease +him?”</p> + +<p>“I have had no explanation from him, nor is one likely +to take place. I am as ignorant as you are of his opinion +on the matter.”</p> + +<p>“What is your own?”</p> + +<p>“I may truly say I feel mortified and vexed by being +disposed of like a bale of goods——”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly, dearest girl. You are left an option.”</p> + +<p>“I do not like Captain Desfrayne.”</p> + +<p>“That can scarcely be wondered at, since he treats you +so coldly—almost rudely. What a strange old man this +Vere Gardiner must have been! Why should he take +such a singular whim into his head?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> + +<p>“I do not know. You now know as much—or as little—as +I do myself.”</p> + +<p>“It is a riddle,” said Blanche. “What does Lady +Quaintree say?”</p> + +<p>“She is very much pleased about the money and +landed property—as pleased and interested as if I were +her own child; but she has not said much about the proposition +of marriage.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose she wishes to see more of this gentleman. +This afternoon, when I first saw Captain Desfrayne, I +liked him: he seemed nice, and had such a gentle way +with him, and his voice was pleasant. But now I have +taken a prejudice against him.”</p> + +<p>At this moment, Blanche caught sight of her father, +Squire Dormer, who had just entered the drawing-room, +where the elder ladies sat.</p> + +<p>“Wait for me one moment here, dear Miss Turquand,” +she said. “I will run and ask papa if I must return to-night. +Oh! I do hope he will let me stay till to-morrow +with you. Do you leave in the morning?”</p> + +<p>“Lady Quaintree arranges everything,” answered Lois. +“It will be just as she orders.”</p> + +<p>Blanche went back to the drawing-room. Lois remained +on the terrace, idly watching the weird shadows +and sharp, silvery lights.</p> + +<p>A step on the lower terrace for a moment alarmed her. +But a glance assured her that Captain Desfrayne was the +intruder on the quiet of that place. He was near enough +to be able to address her without raising his voice.</p> + +<p>Not one word of the dialogue just interrupted had +reached his ears.</p> + +<p>“Are you not afraid of taking cold, Miss Turquand?” +he asked, really for want of something better to say.</p> + +<p>“Thanks, no. It is such a lovely summer’s night. I +am going back to the drawing-room in one moment,” replied +Lois.</p> + +<p>With a quick movement, Paul Desfrayne ascended the +steps leading from the lower to the upper terrace, and in +an instant was by her side.</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand——” he began, then his courage and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> +the power of expressing his scarcely formed ideas utterly +failed him.</p> + +<p>Lois’ heart throbbed painfully for a moment or two. +She looked at Captain Desfrayne, then averted her eyes +without saying a word.</p> + +<p>“I wished—I may not see you again for a long time, +and I thought it would be better to explain myself certain +circumstances which it is of paramount importance +you should know than to trust others to do so, or to endeavor +to commit them to writing.”</p> + +<p>“Circumstances?” repeated Lois. “Of what kind?”</p> + +<p>“Circumstances connected entirely with my own history; +but as—must I say unhappily?—one who might be +deemed the benefactor of us both—that one has chosen +to link our fate—your destiny and mine—together, to a +certain extent, it is your right to learn what otherwise——”</p> + +<p>Paul felt conscious that every little speech he had attempted +had proved a wretched failure. He feared that +the task he had undertaken would prove beyond his +strength or skill. What form of words should he use? +How possibly bring the subject of his marriage forward? +It was difficult enough in one way to break the seal of +secrecy on the fatal topic to his mother; with this girl of +eighteen it would be a thousand times more so.</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand,” he began, once again making another +effort, “one chief reason why I have not before +informed you of these circumstances has been that I +really have not had the opportunity. The news that—in +fact, that is to say, the knowledge that I was to—in a +word, the contents of Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will came +upon me like a thunderclap. I did not even know your +name until last Friday, when I had the pleasure of seeing +you for the first time. Why Mr. Vere Gardiner +should have seen fit to make such a singular arrangement, +I cannot conceive. I met him but once, so far as +I am aware. He knew nothing of my private affairs. +No doubt he meant well. It would, perhaps, be ungrateful +on my part to find fault with his good intentions; but +it is to be regretted that he could not fix on some more +worthy object of his bounty than myself, or, at least, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> +he attached conditions to his munificent gifts which it is +absolutely impossible I can fulfil.”</p> + +<p>Lois’ eyes were kindling with the varying sensations +that rose in her heart as she listened. With the swiftness +of an already overexcited brain, her imagination ran +rapidly through every conceivable range of impediments, +except the one that really existed.</p> + +<p>She looked so lovely, so graceful, so ethereal in the +cross-light, that, as Paul Desfrayne looked down upon +her fair, English face and beautiful figure, he felt a +strange yearning desire to take her for a moment in +his arms, and press one kiss upon the half-open rose-bud +lips. More than ever he cursed the mad folly that +had made him link those heavy chains upon his life that +might never be loosened this side the grave.</p> + +<p>What was he about to tell her? Lois rested her hand +on the stone ledge of the balustrade; for she felt unnerved +and agitated.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne was silent for some moments. Lois +had only spoken once since he had joined her.</p> + +<p>Blanche, having ascertained to her great satisfaction +that she would be allowed to stay all night, and partly settled +a newly started scheme for a tour of some weeks +with the Quaintrees, was about to rush back to Lois’ +side. But her quick glance had discovered how her +friend was employed, and she drew back before she had +made three steps. She discreetly returned into the drawing-room, +and sat down at the piano.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree began to wonder greatly why Captain +Desfrayne had not come to ask for a cup of coffee, and +she now missed her young companion. It did not suit +her plan of operations to let them have an opportunity of +entering into any mutual explanations of which she might +not be immediately cognizant. Therefore, observing that +Blanche was alone, she asked:</p> + +<p>“Where is Lois, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“I left her on the terrace, ma’am,” answered Blanche, +turning round on her music-stool.</p> + +<p>“Alone, Blanche?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—no. I did leave her alone; but I think she is +talking to Captain Desfrayne now.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, indeed! They are very foolish. I am sure they +will take cold,” said my lady, with an air of careless semi-interest.</p> + +<p>Blanche turned again to her board of black and white +ivory keys, and began running brilliant roulades. Mrs. +Dormer asked her husband some questions about the state +of the roads after the deluge of rain that had fallen, and +in a few minutes Lady Quaintree found that she had an +excellent opportunity of rising almost unobserved, and +moving across to the windows, which all opened directly +upon the terrace.</p> + +<p>She moved gently, with a soft, silken rustle, from one +window to another, until she arrived at one where she +could command a perfect view of the two figures standing +in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>It thus happened that, as Paul Desfrayne spoke those +words declaring his inability to carry out any share in the +dead man’s wishes, Lady Quaintree was in the act of +drawing open the window against which he had accidentally +placed himself.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship would have disdained to play the part of +eavesdropper, for she was a woman of high principle, although +she deemed herself justified in thus interrupting +what might be a critical explanation. She, therefore, +heard nothing of what the young officer had been saying.</p> + +<p>Lois could not conceive why there should be such a +tender sorrow in Captain Desfrayne’s eyes, such a pathetic +ring in his voice, such an echo of grief and despair +in his words. With an eager unrest, she waited for the +next words, which should explain the reason of the +young man’s inability to profit by the clauses in the old +man’s will. But, instead of the tender tones of his voice, +the suave, well-bred accents of Lady Quaintree sounded +in her ears. With a great start, she turned and faced her +ladyship; Paul Desfrayne did the same.</p> + +<p>“My dearest pet, you really ought not to linger here +in the night air,” said my lady. “I fancy Mrs. Dormer +has been wondering where you have vanished to. Really, +however, I am not surprised, the beauty of the night has +tempted you to breathe its freshness and fragrance; it is +so close and sultry within. Give me your arm, my love;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> +I will take just one turn, and then we will go in and let +Captain Desfrayne and Mrs. Dormer have a little music.”</p> + +<p>“Allow me, madam,” said the young man, offering his +arm.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree passed her hand lightly through the +proffered support, and, thus escorted, promenaded to and +fro for about five minutes; Lois, on her left, attending +her. Her ladyship was in charming spirits, and to any +less preoccupied companions would have been most +amusing.</p> + +<p>The lively nothings she rattled off fell on dull and indifferent +ears, however, and she could extract little beyond +abstracted monosyllables from Captain Desfrayne, +and an occasional languid smile or a half-absent “yes” or +“no” from Miss Turquand.</p> + +<p>“Would it be of any use offering you shelter for the +night, Captain Desfrayne?” she asked, with a winning +smile. “My dear young friend has appointed me viceroy +over her house for the present. We shall be delighted +to show you as much hospitality as our means will admit.”</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, and I am already indebted to you +for the goodness and consideration which you have this +day shown me,” answered Paul Desfrayne. “But I really +must return to my quarters to-night.”</p> + +<p>“It will be a long and lonely ride,” objected Lady +Quaintree. “Can we order one of the carriages for your +service?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks. I should greatly prefer riding.”</p> + +<p>“Do you need a groom, or a guide of any kind?”</p> + +<p>“I knew this neighborhood perfectly well when a boy, +and have not forgotten one lane or valley or hedgerow, +I believe.”</p> + +<p>Presently Lady Quaintree turned to go in, saying they +must not neglect their other guests.</p> + +<p>She passed in first, Paul Desfrayne lingered for a moment, +and involuntarily fixed his eyes upon Lois. They +were full of an unspoken eloquence, and revealed volumes +of despair, of regret, of deep and mute feelings +which rose like some troubled revelation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> + +<p>Lois could not but read this glance, which perplexed +her more than his few bitter words of absolute renunciation +had done.</p> + +<p>The young man knew that this chance for an explanation +was gone. When might the next occur? He scarcely +knew whether to feel relieved by the postponement of +a painful duty, or vexed by the fact that he was worse +placed than if he had remained absolutely silent.</p> + +<p>“I can write to her to-morrow,” he thought, though +he doubted if he could nerve himself to the task.</p> + +<p>“What can he have wished to tell me?” Lois asked +herself vainly; for although she racked her brain for an +answer, none sufficiently plausible presented itself.</p> + +<p>They were not alone for a single moment during the +remaining hour that Paul Desfrayne lingered. The +Dormers went past the barracks on their way home, but +he declined a seat in their carriage, as he preferred to +ride, he said.</p> + +<p>He left the house with them, however, riding a short +way by their carriage, and then, putting spurs to his +horse, dashed at almost a reckless pace toward his quarters.</p> + +<p>It might almost be imagined that a kind of second +sight, some sort of spiritual influence, was drawing him +to the place where Gilardoni awaited him.</p> + +<p>As he took leave of Miss Turquand, he held her hand +for some brief moments, and again looked into the clear +depths of her eyes.</p> + +<p>A deep sigh escaped him as he released the hand he +had half-unconsciously retained. Lois heard the sigh, and +it was echoed in her heart.</p> + +<p>Alas! What was the fatal impediment? Not dislike +for herself—she felt sure of that. Her pique and resentment +were rapidly melting away under the dangerous +fire of love and pity.</p> + +<p>He left her a prey to unrest, impatience, wonderment, +the only solace being that she felt confident he would +take the earliest opportunity of giving her the explanation +thus vexatiously interrupted. She surmised that a letter +might possibly reach her some time the next day, or perhaps +he might call. It would be so natural for him to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> +come, with the object of ascertaining how she and Miss +Dormer were after their fright.</p> + +<p>Somehow, she did not care to inform Lady Quaintree +of what he had said, nor did her ladyship make the slightest +approach to an inquiry. But when Lady Quaintree +proposed to quit Flore Hall early the following day, she +eagerly desired to stay, alleging truly that she was anything +but well, as her fainting-fit and the alarm she had +suffered had unhinged her nerves.</p> + +<p>“Just as you please, my love. I will not dictate to you +in your own house, and certainly you and dear Blanche +do look very pale, so perhaps a day’s rest will be desirable. +But really I shall not be able to remain for more +than one day longer. I have so many engagements——”</p> + +<p>And she affected to consult a dainty blue-and-gold +note-book, which assuredly did contain a sufficiently full +program for the week, but which would not have bound +her if she had not found it convenient.</p> + +<p>With Blanche, Lois was more open. Miss Dormer +came for a little while into her room, which the girls +would gladly have shared, and listened with absorbed +interest to the brief account of the mysterious words +spoken on the terrace.</p> + +<p>When Lois paused, Blanche reflected seriously.</p> + +<p>“You have not consulted Lady Quaintree yet, since he +said these singular things?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Lois, in a low, constrained voice.</p> + +<p>“Is it too late to speak to her now?”</p> + +<p>Lois shrank back.</p> + +<p>“I know it would be best,” she said; “and yet—and yet +I do not like to speak to her until I have something more +definite to say. She has always been kind and good to +me; but you must remember that she has been my mistress, +far above me in every respect; and I can scarcely——I +know I am wrong, ungrateful, and yet——”</p> + +<p>Blanche smiled, and shrugged her pretty shoulders almost +imperceptibly.</p> + +<p>“I understand,” she said, very softly. “I suppose Captain +Desfrayne will explain himself to her. I wonder +much he has not tried to do so to-night. He might easily<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> +have found, or made, an opportunity. You have told me +exactly what he said?”</p> + +<p>“Word for word. It seems imprinted on my memory, +and every sentence seems still sounding in my ears. I +suppose I was so startled that it made a particular impression +on me.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I tell you what my opinion is? Probably within +a few days—perhaps to-morrow—you will learn the +truth. But may I hazard a guess?”</p> + +<p>“Pray tell me what you think, my dear friend.”</p> + +<p>Blanche fixed her eyes on the pale face of Lois.</p> + +<p>“It is my belief,” she said, very slowly, speaking as if +deliberately—“it is my firm conviction that he is secretly +married.”</p> + +<p>Lois shrank back once more. Such an idea had not +occurred to her; but she could not refuse to see the probability +of the suggestion. She was unable to speak. +Somehow, ice seemed to fall upon her heart.</p> + +<p>“Secretly married!” she at length echoed faintly. “Why +should he be ashamed or afraid to acknowledge such a +thing?”</p> + +<p>“That remains to be seen,” replied Miss Dormer. “But +I believe such to be the fact. I have read and heard of +many cases where gentlemen, handsome and proud as +Captain Desfrayne, have married persons whom they +had every reason to be ashamed of. But he may not be +ashamed of his marriage, my dear. There are many +reasons why people conceal that they are married.”</p> + +<p>Long after Blanche quitted her, Lois remained gazing +from her open window, painfully meditating. He was +perhaps, then, already married?</p> + +<p>Tired, agitated, weak from fright and from the strain +on her nervous system, the young girl rested her head +upon her hands, and a few tears trickled over her fingers. +She started up.</p> + +<p>“What folly!” she muttered. “Why do I dwell so +much on the words he spoke to-night? What does it +signify? I do not care for him. He is a stranger to me, +and likely to remain such. When I have been duly informed +of the reasons why he is unable to assist me in +doubling my fortune by marrying me, there will be an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> +end of the matter. I am almost sorry now I did not +agree to Lady Quaintree’s suggestion, and return to +London to-morrow. Probably he will send a letter to her +ladyship by his servant some time to-morrow afternoon. +I do not wish to marry him. I will never marry any +one I do not love, and I have never yet seen any one +I could really care for. I will go to bed, and get to +sleep, as I ought to have done about two hours ago.”</p> + +<p>She did go to bed; but the effort to sleep was quite +an abortive one. Feverishly she turned from side to +side, unable to rid herself of the memory of those eloquent +glances, those deeply regretful broken words, those +pathetic tones.</p> + +<p>Until at last she arrived at the conclusion that she +would willingly have forfeited her newly acquired fortune +never to have heard of or seen Paul Desfrayne.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE BREAK OF DAWN.</p> + + +<p>It was with difficulty Gilardoni could curb his impatient +desire for his master’s return. Could he by any +possibility have imagined in which direction to seek for +him, he would have started off in quest before the storm +was well exhausted. But he was absolutely a stranger +in this part of the world, and for aught he could tell, his +master might be the same.</p> + +<p>He was perforce obliged to remain in Captain Desfrayne’s +rooms in absolute inaction, listening with keenly +strained watchfulness to every sound, every footfall of +man or beast.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, the rooms did not overlook the yard +through which the young officer must enter the barracks, +so Gilardoni did not enjoy the half-irritating consolation +of watching the gate by which he would come.</p> + +<p>It was very late before there was the slightest sign of +Captain Desfrayne’s coming.</p> + +<p>In fact, Gilardoni at length, somehow, lost count, and +was only recalled to his eager watch by a gentle touch +upon his shoulder. He sprang to his feet, unaware that +he had fallen asleep.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne had come into the room quietly. At +first he had thought of letting the poor tired fellow have +his sleep to the end in peace; but, finding he needed his +services, he had aroused him.</p> + +<p>“No matter, my good Gilardoni,” he said, with that +pleasant, winning, yet sad, smile that had become habitual +to him. “I have no doubt you are tired waiting for +me. I am dog-tired myself. This afternoon, I was +caught in the storm, and had the good luck”—there was +an imperceptible shade of irony in his tone—“to find +shelter in a friend’s house, so was delayed. Will +you——”</p> + +<p>The words died on his lips. Gilardoni had placed the +tiny packet in the silver tissue-paper on the table, just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> +within the rays of the lamp, and Paul Desfrayne’s glance +happened to light on it as he spoke.</p> + +<p>With a hasty movement, he put out his hand to take +it up, but the Italian was more swift, and with the rapidity +of lightning covered the packet with the palm of his +hand, but without removing it from the table.</p> + +<p>The two young men looked into each other’s face for +some moments. Not a sound was heard beyond the +monotonous tick-tick of the clock on the chimneypiece.</p> + +<p>“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Captain +Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>He recollected the night when he engaged this man as +his servant—it seemed months ago—when he had seen +him clench his fist at the pictured resemblance to Lucia +Guiscardini.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni took up the tiny gold cross in its filmy covering, +and kept it in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he said, “this morning you dropped this—as I +supposed. I picked it up——”</p> + +<p>“Both self-evident facts. As it happens to belong to +<i>me</i>, and you acknowledge my proprietorship, why do you +not restore it to me?” said Captain Desfrayne. “Do you +know what it is?”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni laughed bitterly.</p> + +<p>“I naturally opened the packet, in order to ascertain +what the contents might be,” he responded, “for I was +not certain until now that it had really been dropped +by you, sir. It is——”</p> + +<p>“What is it? A gold cross, a pendant for a watch-chain.”</p> + +<p>“More than that.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Sir, may I ask you a question?”</p> + +<p>“A thousand, if you will let me have my own property, +and be brief enough to let me get to bed within half an +hour, for I sorely need rest.”</p> + +<p>“Sir—my good master, to whom I owe so much kindness +and charity—I am not going to ask this question +out of impertinent curiosity, but—but from a sufficiently +reasonable and strong motive.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<p>“Come, let us have the question without further preamble.”</p> + +<p>“I will ask you two questions. Did you buy this cross, +or was it given to you?”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne hesitated before replying, as a man +in the witness-box might do for fear of criminating +himself.</p> + +<p>“It was given to me,” he at length replied.</p> + +<p>“By a woman?”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne looked keenly at his questioner. +The idea that he was a former lover of the beautiful +Italian prima donna’s, again occurred to him.</p> + +<p>“If it will afford you any gratification to know, I do +not object to admitting that it was given to me by a +woman,” he said.</p> + +<p>“By an Italian?”</p> + +<p>“By an Italian? Yes.”</p> + +<p>“It was a love-gift?”</p> + +<p>An exclamation of anger escaped Gilardoni’s master, +and he impatiently stretched out his hand.</p> + +<p>“Enough of this nonsense!” he exclaimed, with displeasure. +“Give me that packet, and get you to bed. +Your wits are addled by the nap you were betrayed into.”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni moved a step nearer to Captain Desfrayne, +and, gripping him tightly by the wrist, looked with intent, +searching earnestness into his face, as if he would +read his soul. There was nothing sinister or menacing +in his attitude, gestures, or expression. He had simply +the appearance of a man carried away by some self-absorbing +desire to learn a fact of paramount interest to +himself.</p> + +<p>“This cross,” he said, “was given to you by Lucia Guiscardini.”</p> + +<p>“I do not understand why the fact should interest you,” +answered Paul Desfrayne. “It certainly did come from +her hand. What was Lucia Guiscardini to you, or you to +Lucia Guiscardini, that the sight of her gifts to another +should cause you so much emotion?”</p> + +<p>“Did she tell you where she had obtained this toy?” +asked Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>“I did not think of inquiring. She linked it on my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> +watch-chain one day, and there was an end of the affair.”</p> + +<p>“I knew this as well as if I had been present,” muttered +the Italian. “Oh! false, wicked, traitorous serpent!”</p> + +<p>These latter words he spoke so rapidly in his native +language that his master did not catch their import.</p> + +<p>“If you knew, why the deuce have you put yourself to +the trouble of asking so many questions? I should be +glad to know what you mean by cross-examining me in +this ridiculous manner. You apparently consider you +have no very good reason to like this same Lucia Guiscardini. +Has she done you any harm?”</p> + +<p>“She has ruined my happiness—blighted my life—that +is all. No, I have no great reason to remember her with +feelings of good-will.”</p> + +<p>“As you have asked me some questions, I may be allowed +the privilege of retaliating. May I ask if she jilted +you?”</p> + +<p>“No. Oh! no. Would to Heaven she had done so, and +saved me these years of bitter hate and regret!”</p> + +<p>“Is she your sister?” demanded Paul Desfrayne, +startled by the overthrow of the supposition he had so +readily built up.</p> + +<p>“No. She is the only woman I have ever loved, or +can ever love again.”</p> + +<p>“Do you still love her, or do you hate her for being so +far beyond you?”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni regarded his master with a strange, inexplicable +look, and then broke into a low, savagely bitter +laugh.</p> + +<p>“May I ask, sir,” he said, “if she jilted <i>you</i>? She was +quite capable of playing the coquette to amuse herself, +and then laughing in your face, for her soul was really +steeped in ambitious desires.”</p> + +<p>“I believe, my good fellow, ambition was her besetting +sin—is still, if what folks say be true. No, she did not +jilt me. But you have not answered my question. Be +frank with me. Tell me why you hate this woman. Why +do you hate her—and yet, why do you feel anger at finding +her gifts in the possession of another?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> + +<p>“This cross,” said Gilardoni, tearing it from its wrapper, +and holding it out at arm’s length, with a strange, +vindictive smile, “was my gift to her—given the day I +told her I loved her, and asked her——”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“She pretended she returned my love. Bah! Her +heart was as cold as ice. She cares for no one but herself. +She was born a peasant girl, yet never was princess +of blood royal more proud, more insolent, more resolved +to stand above the common herd. I adored her. I was +like one bereft of his senses when she was near me. She +had but to will, and I obeyed like the basest slave. Bah! +I made an idol and tricked it out with all the graces +of my love-smitten imagination, and fell down and worshiped +it. I believed that she was exactly what my +weak, foolish heart pictured her to be. I would have +raised her from her ignoble station, but not to the height +she desired to climb. To be a Russian princess, or the +lady of some great English milord, was her dream.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” said Paul Desfrayne, very quietly, yet he +felt that some great revelation was at hand. That the +revelation was to be to his advantage he did not hope.</p> + +<p>“But not at the time when I linked about her neck the +chain that held this poor little gewgaw,” cried Gilardoni +excitedly. “No, no. At that time she was barely conscious +of her power to charm—just waking to the consciousness +of her dangerous charm of beauty. I was +her first victim, her first triumph. She was a girl of sixteen +then; I was about six or seven years her senior. +We had been neighbors and friends from childhood. I +taught her such songs and snatches of music as I occasionally +picked up, and she loved to warble the chants +and psalms she heard at chapel. She had not discovered +that she had a fortune in her throat. If she had not +found out <i>that</i>, we might have been a happy, contented +couple at this day.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne looked at the excited face of Gilardoni +in a strange, contemplative silence for a moment or two, +as the Italian paused. The dark, foreign face was lividly +pale from passion; the dark, gleaming eyes were burning +with inward fire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> + +<p>“I thought you assured me just this moment,” observed +the young officer, “that Lucia Guiscardini had not jilted +you. If you loved her, and she declared she reciprocated +your affection, why, it is to be imagined that the course +of true love must have run tolerably smooth. A little hypocrisy, +I believe, is supposed to be pardonable with the +feminine part of our common humanity. If she said she +loved you, her affection was next best to reality.”</p> + +<p>“She declared she loved me. I believed her,” said +Gilardoni fiercely. “I believed her because—I supposed +because I wished it to be true. I fancied no man was +ever so happy as I. For a while I walked no longer on +earth, but on roseate clouds of happiness. I despise myself +when I look back on that time. Perhaps I am not the +first who has been betrayed into folly by the arts and +wiles of a beautiful, treacherous girl,” the Italian added, +shrugging his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“You have not yet given me the slightest idea of the +reason why you so cordially dislike Madam Guiscardini, +if that be her correct designation,” said Captain Desfrayne. +“You indulge in the most vehement invectives +against her, yet state no specific charge. You say you +made a fool of yourself about her, and that she laughed +in her sleeve at your declarations of affection. Certainly, +very shabby on her part, but, then, it is a thing beautiful, +vain, silly women do every day. Why should you cherish +such rancor against her? I suppose she found she could +make a better market of her beauty and wonderful talents +than by disposing of them to a man who could never +hope to raise her beyond the level of, say, a wealthy +farmer’s wife. Do not be too severe upon her.”</p> + +<p>“If she had laughed at me, and left me,” cried Gilardoni, +throwing out his hands with impetuosity, “I could +have forgiven her; I might have forgotten her. It could +not have been that I could ever have loved again; but +what of that? I do not believe in love <i>now</i>. But no. +She left the poison of her treacherous touch upon my life. +I could kill her, if she were within my reach.”</p> + +<p>“Such hate must be justified by very serious provocation,” +said Paul Desfrayne. “May I ask how your love<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> +was turned to such bitter gall, since your suit prospered +in the first instance?”</p> + +<p>“By deeds of the blackest treachery.”</p> + +<p>“In a word, may I ask—since we are playing at the +game of question and answer—may I once more ask, +why do you hate the beautiful Lucia Guiscardini? She +did not jilt you, you say—then what relationship does +she hold toward you?”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni turned his great dark eyes upon his master, +as if in surprise, forgetting at the moment that he had +not told him of the completing point of his story. Then +he said, with a vindictive bitterness terrible to hear, because +it revealed the smoldering fire beneath:</p> + +<p>“She is my wife!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LEONARDO GILARDONI’S STORY.</p> + + +<p>Had the earth yawned suddenly open at his feet, Paul +Desfrayne could not have expressed more utter amazement +than was depicted in his face and in his entire attitude +on hearing the declaration made by Leonardo +Gilardoni. He stared as if confounded.</p> + +<p>“Your wife!” he repeated, at length.</p> + +<p>“Certainly. My wife,” answered the valet.</p> + +<p>“Then—then——Great heavens, your <i>wife</i>! But it +is impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Why should it be impossible?” almost angrily demanded +the Italian. “Do you mean it is impossible that +the famous star of the lyrical stage should be the wife +of a poor, penniless fellow like myself? It must seem +strange—I don’t deny it. But in her early days she was +one of the poorest and most obscure of peasant girls, and +thought Leonardo Gilardoni, with his little piece of land, +and the savings bequeathed by his father, quite a catch. +No thought of English milords and Russian princes +then.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne took a hasty turn or two, then again +faced his servant.</p> + +<p>“You amaze me,” he said. “Then how did it happen, +since you loved her, as you say, that you came to be separated +from her, and how has it come about that you appear +to be utter strangers, you two? How is it that she +contemplates—if report speak true—marriage with a +Russian prince, if she is already married, the wife of +Leonardo Gilardoni?”</p> + +<p>But as he spoke, Paul Desfrayne was thinking, with +a half-dazed brain, that if Lucia Guiscardini should prove +to be the wife of this Italian servant, her marriage with +himself must have been perfectly illegal.</p> + +<p>If she were the wife of another, why, he must be +free. But it could not be. He had yet to hear some explanation +which would inevitably shut out from view the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> +bright vision of happy freedom conjured up for a moment +by the wild words of Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>No; it was beyond hope that this poisonous sting could +ever be taken from out his blighted life.</p> + +<p>The lovely, pure face of Lois Turquand, as he had seen +it on the terrace in the dim, dreamy light, rose before him, +as if to reproach him for a wrong unconsciously wrought +against her by his fatal marriage.</p> + +<p>It was evident Gilardoni knew nothing whatever of <i>la</i> +Lucia’s marriage with Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>The Italian was watching his master’s countenance as +if anxious to discover the current of his thoughts. There +was a momentary pause. Then Gilardoni said, less excitedly:</p> + +<p>“Why does she think of bettering her condition by a +splendid marriage with a great noble when she is the wife +of a poor serving-man like myself? Simply because she +has destroyed the evidence of her unlucky first marriage.”</p> + +<p>In spite of his better sense, a sharp spasm of disappointment +seized the heart of Paul Desfrayne. He was, +perhaps, worse placed than before. Until now, he had +given Lucia Guiscardini credit for being what she really +represented herself to be, and had imagined that balked +ambition rather than absolute wickedness had led to her +vile deception and iniquitous treachery toward himself. +She had seemed a wild, undisciplined creature, ignorant +of the world and its ways, cold and reserved except on a +few occasions when she had permitted him to snatch +feverish kisses from her lips, and press her in his arms. +But now, if Gilardoni’s accusations were true, she was +a crafty, evil, unscrupulous woman, who had crushed an +innocent man with the hope to step up into wealth and +power.</p> + +<p>She was the wife of this servant, yet at any moment, +did she so will, she could claim to stand by the side of +Captain Paul Desfrayne, whose legal wife she was, until +proof of a prior marriage could be obtained. Wife of +Paul Desfrayne, so proud of his untarnished family name +and descent, so adoringly fond of his mother, whose besetting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +sin was family pride and love of the world’s +homage.</p> + +<p>“Destroyed the evidence of her first marriage!” Paul +Desfrayne slowly repeated. “I cannot understand you.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, I will tell you the pitiful history. ’Tis not very +long. As children, Lucia and I were playmates. She was +an imperious, overbearing tyrant; but her beauty, her +wiles, her artless ways, as they appeared to be, gained for +her complete dominion over my every thought and action. +I was some six or seven years her senior, and useful to +her—her slave, her jackall.</p> + +<p>“She was an orphan, and lived with an old woman, +some distant kind of relation. I lost my parents when +about eighteen or so, and was left my own master. When +Lucia was some ten or eleven years old, I resolved that +she, and none other, should be my wife at some future +day. I told her so many, many times, and she generally +agreed, laughingly. When she was sixteen, I found that +I passionately loved her. Our future marriage had been +a kind of jest until then; but at last I discovered—or +fancied such to be the case—I took it into my head that +I must obtain her love, and make her my wife, or else +my heart must break.</p> + +<p>“I can scarcely conceive the wild state of my feelings +<i>now</i> when I look back. I made a serious declaration of +my love the day I gave her this cross; I urged her to +give me her promise, telling her how madly I adored her, +how rich I hoped to be some day by working hard, and +getting and saving money. She knew exactly how much +I was worth. She knew she would have her own way +in everything—she knew how every thought in my brain, +every pulsation of my heart, was given to her.</p> + +<p>“I was the best-circumstanced of those she had to +choose from, and I think—I believe—some beam of liking +for me flickered in her cold breast; but I don’t know. +She decided to give me her promise.”</p> + +<p>“Which she ratified?” said Paul Desfrayne, as Gilardoni +paused.</p> + +<p>“Yes. We were married within a few weeks at the +nearest chapel. Some time before our marriage, Lucia’s +brother who had been brought up in France by his mother’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> +uncle, and reared as a priest, had come to take charge +of our spiritual affairs. We were married by him. I +believed there had never been a happier man than myself +when I led the cruel, treacherous girl away from the little +altar.”</p> + +<p>“Go on, I beg of you.”</p> + +<p>“For some months all went well. Lucia commanded, +and I obeyed. There was but one will in the house—hers; +nothing clashed with it, and so nothing clouded our +happiness. She was very well satisfied; she had fine +clothes, a pretty house, an adoring husband, and triumphed +when she knew she was envied by some of her +girl friends. Then, one day, a famous singer came along. +He was staying in the village—it was his native place, +and he roamed about all day. One morning, he was +walking near our cottage: he heard Lucia singing in the +little rose-garden. I was away at a neighboring town. +He spoke to her—inflamed her ambition by telling her +she had a fortune in her throat. She did not tell him she +was married, or let him see the ring on her finger, and he +told her she might marry an emperor some day if she +pleased.”</p> + +<p>“Did she run away with him?” asked Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“She told him she would give him an answer in a week, +after she had consulted with her friends, for he asked +if she would go to Florence with him. When I returned, +she was like one crazy, her eyes all a-glitter with joy +and astonished delight. I instantly told her I would +never hear of her becoming a singer, and going on the +stage. She tried coaxing, storming, threatening, entreaties, +crying, sullenness, all to no purpose. I was inflexible. +During the whole of the week the same scenes +occurred every day, from morning until night—nay, for +the twenty-four hours. The eve of the day when the +signor was to come for his answer found her as resolute +as at first to follow the course pointed out to her by his +selfish hand—found me as doggedly determined to keep +her from destroying her own peace and mine.”</p> + +<p>“You did not think you were flinging away a fortune?” +said Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> + +<p>“All I thought of was that they asked me to scatter +my happiness to the winds,” replied Gilardoni. “What +did we want with fortune when we had enough for our +needs? The signor came. He must have learned that +this young girl was married, but he made no sign. She +was on the watch for him, and ran to meet him before he +reached the door.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you not hinder them from speaking?”</p> + +<p>“Pooh! Unless I could have locked her up in a cell, +it would have been utterly impossible to prevent her from +communicating with him. She did not call me, but let +him depart. Then she came in and told me that he had +renewed his golden promises, that she had informed him +her friends objected to her becoming a stage singer, but +that she hoped to gain consent, and had requested him to +return in three or four days. He was resolved not to lose +sight of her, and waited patiently. She tried again to +shake my determination, but in vain.</p> + +<p>“I then thought of applying to her brother, the priest, +for help in combatting her fatal desires and intentions, +but he had consented to go to America as a missionary, +and was at that time away making some final arrangements—partly +settling who should succeed him in his +humble cure. In a fortnight more he was to begin his +journey. Lucia nearly drove me frantic; but a day or +two before that fixed for the final decision, she suddenly +became strangely calm and quiet, with the horrible tranquillity +of a wild beast which crouches to take its spring +upon a victim.”</p> + +<p>All these explanations were necessary to render poor +Gilardoni’s story intelligible; but the suspense until he +should arrive at the conclusive point in his recital was almost +sickening to his hearer, for whom the facts possessed +an absorbing interest, undreamed of by the narrator.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne did not utter a word when Gilardoni +paused for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Lucia had made up her mind,” the valet continued, +“to close with the alluring offers of the stranger. How +do you think she contrived to get rid of the impediments<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +caused by my stern obstinacy, as she considered the opposition +I raised?”</p> + +<p>“How can I tell?”</p> + +<p>“She made one or two faint efforts to move me that +last day; then she drugged some wine I was to drink in +the evening. Having secured a fair start, she went off +with the crabbed old man who had thus torn her from +the home she had made so happy for a few short months.”</p> + +<p>“Did she leave any clue to the place she was bound +for?”</p> + +<p>“None. A few lines scrawled on a bit of torn paper +told me why she had gone, and with whom. I found +this paper the next morning when I roused myself from +my deathlike sleep. The drug left me weak in body and +mind; some days elapsed before I could gain sufficient +strength to form any plan. Then I made some careful +inquiries, for I wished to avoid being talked about and +laughed at by the scandal-loving old women of the village. +I found that there was a probability of finding my +wife and her new music-master at Turin.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne shuddered. The name of these beautiful +Italian cities always brought back feelings of pain and +bitterness to his memory.</p> + +<p>“I traveled day and night,” Gilardoni went on. “Such +little property as I had I sold, realizing a moderate sum +of money, for I needed resources in my pursuit, and +knew that the pretty, happy nest could never be the same +to me again. My information, gleaned grain by grain, +proved correct. She was at Turin. Step by step, slowly, +laboriously, with the patience of an Indian, I tracked her +out.</p> + +<p>“My ardent love was then undergoing a change, and +I felt deep anger against her for her utter indifference +to me, for her rank defiance of my wishes, of my lawful +authority. I discovered her living in an obscure suburb +with an old attendant. Every stratagem I used to obtain +an interview with her failed. I tried to bribe the old +servant, or duenna, or governess, and she first flung my +money contemptuously in my face, and then banged the +gates. I wrote, but could not tell whether my letters +reached the cruel hands of my treacherous wife.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>“I watched the doors of her house, but in vain, for I +afterward found that she rarely quitted the house, and +then by a small gate at the end of the large garden, which +led into a sheltered lane little frequented. Her singing-master +entered by this gate, and as I was ignorant that +there was any way of obtaining admittance except by the +iron gates in the front of the house, I was baffled in my +object of waylaying and questioning him. By dint of +inquiring ceaselessly, I found out where he lived, and one +day I went to his house, and confronted him.”</p> + +<p>“And the result?”</p> + +<p>“I demanded of him my wife—he laughed at me and +my reproaches, entreaties, and threats. At last he menaced +me—said that if I again annoyed him he would +hand me over to the authorities as a dangerous lunatic. +He professed to know nothing of the person I asked for. +In spite of my fury, I had the sense to think that perhaps +my wife had given him a name other than her own or +mine. I endeavored to reasonably explain the circumstances +of her flight. He sneered at me for an idiot, or +an impostor, and coolly showed me the door. I thank +Heaven I did not slay him in my frenzy and despair.”</p> + +<p>“Then did you ever see the woman—your wife—again?”</p> + +<p>“By accident, I discovered the existence of the little +gate at the back of the house. I was passing down the +shaded lane, and noticed the gate open. The idea of its +belonging to the house where my wife was staying did +not occur to me at the moment. I happened to glance +through, and the wild beauty and luxuriance of the large +garden attracted my eyes. I stood for some minutes inhaling +the delicious odor of the flowers, when I heard a +step, and the rustle of feminine garments.</p> + +<p>“An instant more, and I saw—I saw my wife, Lucia, +pacing slowly along the path, her skirts trailing over the +mingled flowers and weeds of the flower-borders, her +eyes cast down, her arms hanging by her side, looking +weary, and, I fancied, sad. I stood still, spellbound, as if +unable to move a step. For a second my heart melted; +the mad love I cherished rose in all its old intensity. I +flattered myself that perhaps she regretted her precipitation—I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +induced myself to imagine that she was to a +great extent influenced by the mercenary old dog who +had lured her away. The idea that she might welcome +me with a cry of gladness, and throw herself into my +arms with tears of penitence, unnerved me.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“She drew nearer and nearer, unconscious of my presence, +the shrubs that grew about the door, or gate, serving +to conceal me. As she came close, when I could almost +have touched her, she happened to raise her eyes. +She uttered one cry—a cry of fear, or surprise, or both, +and then stood perfectly still, as if turned to stone. I +sprang toward her with one long stride, and caught her +by the arm, afraid that even now she might elude me.</p> + +<p>“I do not remember what either said—it was a repetition +of what had passed before. But I do remember that +when I said I would compel her to obey me, as my wife, +and told her she could enter into no contract without my +consent, she stared at me, and broke into contemptuous +laughter—laughter of defiance. She answered that she +was no wife of mine, and acknowledged the authority of +no one save her nearest relative, her brother, the priest.</p> + +<p>“For a moment I really thought her brain was turned. +I asked her if she could deny that her brother had joined +our hands in the little chapel of our native village. She +declared I was uttering rank falsehood, or impertinent +folly. I swore I would soon prove our marriage, and +bring witnesses by the dozen. She laughed again, and +said I was welcome to indulge in my own fancies, unless +they annoyed her.”</p> + +<p>“You said she had destroyed the evidence of the marriage,” +said Captain Desfrayne, fixing his eyes on Gilardoni, +as if to read his very soul.</p> + +<p>“Thunderstruck, confounded, I knew not what to say. +I thought it was a ruse to get me to leave the garden, +for perhaps she feared I might enter the house, and then +be difficult to dislodge. So I no longer thought she had +lost her senses, but that she was trying to do by cunning +what she could not hope to effect by force or persuasion. +But in the end she had her own way. It was of no earthly +use arguing with her, or threatening: she was immovable,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> +and answered every sentence I addressed to her by +the same firm iteration of the fact that she was no wife +of mine.</p> + +<p>“She laughed insultingly when I said the law would +speedily decide between us. Perhaps she knew it was +an idle threat of mine, for what could the law do to bring +again to my arms the woman I had deluded myself into +imagining loved me? I was unable to guess what she +meant by so boldly denying she had been married to me. +In brief, I left her. I lost no time, but hurried back to +obtain proof of my marriage.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A VISION OF FREEDOM.</p> + + +<p>“On my return to our native village, after an absence +of some two months,” continued Gilardoni, “I found that +the priest, Lucia’s brother, had departed. His successor—a +stranger—received me very kindly; but when I revealed +to him my painful situation, and asked his advice, +he looked perfectly distressed. When I begged him to +let me have a copy of the register of my marriage, he +told me, with much agitation, that the book had been +stolen.”</p> + +<p>“Stolen!—by her?” exclaimed Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“Without a doubt,” replied Gilardoni. “He had not +arrived at the time it was purloined. I believe that the +night Lucia fled from my home she gained access to the +chapel, taking the keys from her brother’s room. It was +not until the eve of his departure that he knew anything +of the loss, for there had not been any occasion to use the +book during those last weeks.”</p> + +<p>“She had taken this daring means to free herself from +your authority, or the legal control you might have exercised +over her?” said Paul Desfrayne. “Had she, think +you, destroyed the book?”</p> + +<p>He made the inquiry with a flutter at his heart.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” answered Gilardoni. “It is impossible +she would have had the folly to preserve it. The probability—the +certainty is, that she burned it.”</p> + +<p>“What infamy—what wickedness!” cried Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Her insatiate ambition, her craving for wealth, station, +luxury, overmastered all other feelings,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Then she was free to defy you and all the world?”</p> + +<p>“Quite so.”</p> + +<p>“What did you do on making this extraordinary discovery?”</p> + +<p>“What could I do? No inquiries could enable me to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> +glean the slightest clue to the place whither her brother, +the priest, had gone. I sought in every direction my limited +resources admitted of for information as to his +whereabouts, but, beyond the fact that he had gone to +America, could learn nothing.”</p> + +<p>“America? What part of America?”</p> + +<p>“I could not ascertain. Some place in South America. +Afterward, when I began to move about more freely, I +might perhaps have obtained the name of his location, but +by that time I had lost all desire of even seeing or hearing +of the treacherous woman I had made my wife. I +said to myself, even if I succeeded in proving the legality +of my union with her, of what avail would it be? She +would never return to me: even if she did, she would be +like another creature, not the Lucia I had loved—the +pretty, innocent girl I fancied loved me.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see her again?”</p> + +<p>“I made no attempt to do so. I wrote a few lines, bitterly +reproaching her for the crime she had committed—the +double crime. Of that brief letter she took no notice +whatever. She continued, I believe, to study with the +Signor Ballarini, until fitted to appear on the stage. I +do not know what agreement she made with him; the only +thing I know is that she came out under her own name, +not, thanks be to Providence, under mine!”</p> + +<p>“And then she attained her desire of becoming a star +of the first magnitude,” said Captain Desfrayne, as Gilardoni +paused. “She gained the wealth, luxury, power, +all but the rank she yearned for. Did you ever see her +after that day you came on her by accident in the garden +at Turin?”</p> + +<p>“I have at rare intervals happened to catch a glimpse +of her, without desiring to see her, driving past in her +carriage, perhaps,” replied Gilardoni. “Not even once +have I had the curiosity to enter the theater when she has +been singing; the screech of some arch fiend would have +been as pleasing in my ears as her finest notes. Not once +have I felt an inclination to ask a question as to her way +of life.</p> + +<p>“People have told me that she is one of the best of +women, noted for her charity and goodness. They little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +knew that he to whom they spoke had the first right to be +considered in her schemes of benevolence. I took no +care of my little money, already diminished by my +searches after her unworthy self, and after her brother.</p> + +<p>“The consequence was, I soon became reduced almost +to the verge of want. The good priest who had succeeded +the Padre Josef, my brother-in-law, obtained for +me a situation as servant to a nobleman—the Count Di +Venosta—with whom I was when I first saw you, sir. +My life flowed in a dull current until his death; after +that, illness, poverty, misery, despair, until these last few +days, when I had the good fortune to meet with you, +and you had compassion on my friendless state.”</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne considered for some moments. +Should he reveal his painful secret to this man who had +been so frank with him? He could not resolve to do so: +the humiliation would be too great. Before he had felt +his situation most painful. These revelations rendered it +well-nigh insupportable.</p> + +<p>That Madam Guiscardini should have the daring to +plan the theft of the marriage-register, and the nerve, +the cool audacity, to carry her plot into execution, and +then refrain from the destruction of the proof she desired +to keep from all men’s eyes, was incredible. Yet a +strange thought occurred to him.</p> + +<p>“If no proof of her marriage with you exists,” he said +to the Italian, “how do you account for the fact that she +evidently fears to accept any of the brilliant offers they +say she has received?”</p> + +<p>“Very easily,” answered Leonardo, with a savage +grimace. “Although the book is, or may be, no longer +in existence, her brother may be found any day, and he +could prove her marriage. I do not care to seek him, and +if I did, my poverty restrains me. But she probably +knows well that if she dared to marry any of these infatuated +nobles, who are ready to throw their coronets at +her feet, I should stand forth and denounce her. If I +declare her to be my wife, she must disprove my words. +I, in my poverty, can do nothing; but a rich man—such +as she would desire to wed—could seek for the man who +could seal my words as truth.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> + +<p>A thrill of hope ran through the heart of his hearer. +For a moment the impulse to tell him the bitter facts +of his own share in Lucia’s miserable history almost overmastered +Paul Desfrayne’s prudence. But he resolved to +make no sign until he had consulted Frank Amberley, to +whom he looked now as his chief friend and adviser in +his present difficulties. If he could get leave of absence, +he meant to go to London for some hours the next day, +in order to see the young lawyer.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps her brother is dead,” he suggested.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so,” assented the other. “But she would feel +secure if such were the case, and we should soon hear of +her as princess, duchess, or some such exalted personage.”</p> + +<p>“He might die, and make no sign. Missionary priests +are sometimes slain in obscure places, or die of hunger +on toilsome journeys, and are never heard of more,” Captain +Desfrayne said.</p> + +<p>He knew full well that it was in reality her luckless +marriage with himself that fixed the bar.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” Leonardo said, “I think I have earned the right +to ask how this cross—my first gift to her—came from +her hands into your possession.”</p> + +<p>This was a home-thrust.</p> + +<p>“She fancied I was the rich milord who might one day +place a coronet on her brow,” said Paul Desfrayne, very +slowly. “I was one of her most ardent admirers at Florence.”</p> + +<p>“I understand.”</p> + +<p>“Afterward—some time later—she discovered that I +was—that I was not the wealthy nobleman she had imagined +me to be,” half-stammered Gilardoni’s master.</p> + +<p>“That was enough. I comprehend. That was quite +enough for her. But if she wished to entrap you, she +would have dared to consent to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“My good fellow, I wish to get to my room,” said +the young officer, who felt sick at heart, although a faint +gleam of hope had come to him. “It is almost break of +dawn.”</p> + +<p>These last words struck him with a singular sense of +being familiar, as if he had uttered them in some previous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> +stage of existence, or had heard some one speak +them at some startling crisis.</p> + +<p>“You must be tired out, sir.”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni pushed the little cross toward his master +without making any remark about it.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want the thing, Gilardoni,” said Paul Desfrayne, +with a half-contemptuous sigh. “It is yours of +right, I doubt not. It can have no value for me. I do +not know why I have preserved it.”</p> + +<p>He took up the taper which his valet had lighted, and +went into his bedroom, saying he had no need of further +service from Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>Then he closed and locked the door, and sat down on +the edge of his bed, to consider his position.</p> + +<p>A thousand distracting thoughts ran through his brain, +but above all dominated the one idea that he must, at +any hazard, try to find out if the Padre Josef were alive +or dead. If alive, he could loose these agonizing bonds +that were cutting his life-strings. If dead——</p> + +<p>If dead, then no hope remained.</p> + +<p>At all events, the first step would be to see Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>What if he essayed another interview with Lucia Guiscardini, +and, armed with his present knowledge, sought to +extort some kind of confession from her? Should he endeavor +to make her tell whether she knew, or did not +know, if her brother yet lived?</p> + +<p>With his unhappy experience of her obstinate and violent +temper, he could scarcely hope for any good result +from seeing her. He had no power or influence over +her, could offer no inducement of any kind to persuade +her to admit anything. Too well he knew beforehand +that she would flatly deny her marriage with Leonardo +Gilardoni—would probably deny that she had now or +ever had had a brother at all. She would either laugh +in his face, or storm with rage, as the humor suited her.</p> + +<p>To seek out the priest would demand an immense outlay, +and if, after all, the search should prove unavailing, +or he should be dead, then he, Paul Desfrayne, would be +left penniless, and possibly heavily in debt.</p> + +<p>Would it be well to send Gilardoni on the quest? No<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> +one would seek as he should. Each little trifle that might +escape others, however hawk-eyed, would be sure clues +to his eager, vengeful glance.</p> + +<p>“I will decide nothing now,” he at last thought. “I +will be entirely guided by Frank Amberley’s advice. He +will be able to judge what is best, and, if the search is +advisable, will be capable of estimating the probable expenses. +My liberty alone would be worth ten years of +my life.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the vision of what might be if his freedom +were secured presented itself before his mind, but +he dared not indulge in the dangerous contemplation of +such a joy, and sank into troubled slumbers as the first +rays of the morning sun penetrated into the chamber.</p> + +<p>His face looked worn and weary in the fresh morning +beams, as it rested on his arm.</p> + +<p>The heart of his fond mother must have been melted +with love and pity had she gazed on the distressed face, +and noted the restless tossing of the wearied body, to +which sleep seemed to bring no refreshment.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The day came in its inevitable course.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree and Lois made sure that they would +see Captain Desfrayne during the afternoon. Ordinary +etiquette, if no other feeling, must bring him to inquire +how the young ladies fared after their fright.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree did not attempt to induce Lois to confide +in her. Lois, on her side, did not volunteer any remark +beyond a very few dry commonplaces regarding +the rescue of herself and Blanche Dormer from their +perilous situation. The young girl made no sign whereby +Lady Quaintree could judge of the state of her feelings.</p> + +<p>Both were prepared to wait with a kind of painful uncertainty +for Captain Desfrayne’s coming. Each wished, +for different reasons, that this journey had never been +undertaken.</p> + +<p>Had any rational excuse been at hand, each would have +urged an immediate return to London.</p> + +<p>The question was settled very unexpectedly. As the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> +three ladies rose from breakfast, a servant came in very +hurriedly, the bearer of a telegram directed to Lady +Quaintree.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship’s hand trembled slightly as she took the +paper from the salver, and she hesitated for a moment +before breaking the envelope.</p> + +<p>Telegrams, when unexpected, are always more or less +alarming, and Lady Quaintree could not think of any +possible good reason why any one should address one +to her. She took it out, however, and, putting on her +gold-rimmed spectacles, read the curt sentences:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Return as soon as possible. My father ill, though not +seriously so. He wishes for you. A train leaves Holston +at 12:15; the next at 2:45.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It was from her son Gerald.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree gave the telegram to the two girls, +while she inquired if the messenger was still in waiting.</p> + +<p>The youth who had come from the railway-station +was called into the room. Lois wrote an answer from +Lady Quaintree’s dictation to the effect that they would +start by the 12:15 train, and this was sent by the same +messenger who had brought the telegram.</p> + +<p>As the visit was simply a flying one, little preparation +had been made, and the ladies’ luggage was of the most +portable description; so Justine, who was hastily summoned, +had nothing to do in the shape of packing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ormsby was sent for, and came in dignified +haste.</p> + +<p>“We are obliged to leave a day sooner than we had +arranged for, Mrs. Ormsby,” said Lady Quaintree. “Miss +Turquand is not sure of what time she may return, and +it may be a long period before I come again. But we are +both well pleased with the order and arrangement of everything +in the establishment under your control.”</p> + +<p>The housekeeper curtsied to imply her thanks and +gratification. Her ladyship requested that the carriage +might be ready at once, as they left by the 12:15 train +for London.</p> + +<p>A council of war was held as to the desirability of +Blanche’s accompanying them. No time remained for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +consulting her parents, so at length Lady Quaintree settled +that she should go with them.</p> + +<p>“Even if my lord should prove more unwell than my +son admits,” she said, “you will be a great comfort to me +and to our dear Lois; and if you should find my house +irksome under the circumstances, I can easily locate you +with any one of half a dozen friends, who would be delighted +to receive you, my love.”</p> + +<p>The three were soon equipped for their journey. As +the day was soft and warm, almost threatening to be +sultry and overcoming, the completion of their toilets +consisted in donning country straw hats, dainty lace +capes, and gloves. Lady Quaintree folded a soft white +shawl of fine silky wool about her, and they descended +to the carriage, having hurriedly partaken of luncheon +prepared by Mrs. Ormsby.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE EXPRESS TO LONDON.</p> + + +<p>“What messages are we to leave for Captain Desfrayne, +my dear?” asked Lady Quaintree of Lois.</p> + +<p>They had both left his name to the last, each loath to +be the one to recall it.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship noted, while apparently trying to master +a refractory button on her glove, that the rose tint on +Lois’ cheeks deepened, and then flowed over the rest of +her face, while the long, dark lashes drooped.</p> + +<p>“Dear madam,” said the young girl, “that is a question +I should rather have asked you, who know so much +better than I do the proper things to be said.”</p> + +<p>“Proper, my love,” repeated the old lady, smiling. +“It is not a matter of saying ‘proper’ or ‘civil’ things. +What do you wish to say?”</p> + +<p>The color faded from Lois’ face, and then flowed back +again in a roseate glow.</p> + +<p>“I am sure Miss Dormer and I are both most grateful +to Captain Desfrayne for his kindness——” began +Lois.</p> + +<p>Blanche put her hands on Lois’ waist, and gave her +a gentle shake, and a glance of reproach.</p> + +<p>“‘Miss Dormer!’ You unkind Lois!” she said. “I +thought I had asked you to call me Blanche.”</p> + +<p>Lois felt as if she must say things worthy of smiling +rebuke, whether she willed it or not.</p> + +<p>“Come, we must leave some message, in case the captain +should happen to call,” said Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Ormsby,” she continued, turning to the housekeeper, +who was following to attend them to their carriage, +“if Captain Desfrayne—the gentleman who dined +here yesterday—should come during the day, will you be +good enough to inform him that we were unexpectedly +summoned to London on the most urgent affairs?”</p> + +<p>“I will do so, my lady,” replied Mrs. Ormsby.</p> + +<p>The carriage drove off, containing the three ladies,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> +Justine and the one or two other servants immediately +attending them. There was no time to send for Blanche’s +maid; but it was agreed that she should be sent for at +once on their arrival at Lowndes Square.</p> + +<p>Lois gazed at the stately Hall and its lovely grounds, +with strange, mingled feelings, as the carriage bore her +swiftly away. An uncomfortable sensation rose in her +throat, as if tears of regret were stealing from their hiding-place, +as she reflected that she was in all likelihood +losing a chance of seeing Paul Desfrayne, and hearing his +promised explanation.</p> + +<p>“He will come to-day; and I shall not be here,” she +thought.</p> + +<p>His face and form haunted her, try as she would to +banish the recollection. A dangerous longing, inexplicable +to herself, rose in her heart, just to see him once +more. A wicked longing, she knew, if he belonged to +another. And the impediment which hindered him from +addressing her was evidently an insuperable one. His +words, although mystifying, left no doubt.</p> + +<p>“I wish I had never seen or heard of him,” she said +to herself. “Yet why should I let myself think of him +in this foolish, weak way. My pride, if nothing else, +should forbid my wishing even to see him. It is enough +that he has assured me he can never think of me. Why +do I think about him, except as a harassing care forced +on me? I have known him but a few days; he is a +stranger, an absolute stranger to me, and yet I continue +to brood over his words, and my resentment against +him seems gone.”</p> + +<p>The drive to the station was even pleasanter than the +drive of the day before. As yet the day was tolerably +cool, and snow-white clouds flecked a sky of purest blue.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was not sorry to be rid of the handsome +claimant to her protégée’s hand, heart, and desirable +fortune, if it were only for a while. She could not, +for all her maternal pride, be blind to the fact that Paul +Desfrayne would be a formidable rival to her Gerald, unless +the latter could secure a very firm interest in the affections +of the young lady who might be addressed by +both.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> + +<p>A polite guard chose a convenient compartment for the +ladies. A smile, a hasty uplifting of the finger to his cap +as Lady Quaintree’s delicate pearl-gray glove approached +his brown palm, and then he closed the door respectfully.</p> + +<p>But at the last moment, and just as the guard blew his +whistle, a gentleman came rushing on the platform.</p> + +<p>“Going by the express, sir? Here you are, sir—here +you are. Not a minute to be lost,” cried the guard.</p> + +<p>The good fellow had intended that the ladies should +have their compartment all to themselves; but he had no +time to move from the spot where he stood. The train +began to draw its snakelike body to move out from the +station. He threw open the door, and the gentleman +sprang lightly on the step, steadied himself for an instant, +and then entered.</p> + +<p>The three ladies turned their gaze simultaneously on +their fellow passengers, and the same exclamation escaped +their lips at the same moment:</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne!”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Truly, Captain Desfrayne on his way to London to +consult Frank Amberley. He recognized the ladies as +he balanced himself on the step of the carriage.</p> + +<p>Had it been possible, he would have drawn back, and +gone anywhere rather than continue this journey in Lois’ +company. For a second his eyes met hers. New hope, +clouded by pain and uncertainty, beamed in his; fear, +timid reproach, inquiry, doubt, glanced from hers.</p> + +<p>Blanche could not help exchanging a look of amazement +with Lois, nor could it escape her notice that the +telltale crimson mounted to Miss Turquand’s cheeks, +just now so pale.</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne! An unexpected pleasure,” said +Lady Quaintree, extending her hand, though secretly ill +pleased.</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” answered Captain Desfrayne, himself anything +but delighted. “I had not the most distant idea +you and Miss Turquand intended to quit Flore Hall so +soon.”</p> + +<p>He could not hinder his eyes from wandering to Lois’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> +face. The young girl, filled with anger at his inconsistent +conduct, averted her head, and gazed from the +window. When she stole a glance at him again, he was +looking from the window on his side, his face clouded +by the care and trouble that seemed rarely absent.</p> + +<p>Nobody said much during the journey; for subjects of +conversation were not readily found, and even Blanche +had abundant matter for mental consideration.</p> + +<p>To Lois and Paul Desfrayne, it seemed like a dream +more than reality.</p> + +<p>The thickly clustered houses, the red-tiled roofs and +chimney-pots began to give intimation that they were +nearing London.</p> + +<p>“We may not hope, then, to see much of you this +week, at any rate?” Lady Quaintree observed, shaking +herself out of a brief slumber.</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I must go back to Holston as soon as I can,” he replied.</p> + +<p>The express slackened speed, and at last rolled into +the terminus.</p> + +<p>Gerald was waiting for his mother on the platform. +He assisted her from the carriage, leaving the care of +the two young girls to Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree eagerly paused to make anxious inquiries +about her husband. She had moved on a few +steps, and Captain Desfrayne felt he must offer some +kind of excuse to Lois for not affording her the clue to +his mysterious behavior he had promised. He laid a +tremulous hand on her wrist, and drew her some steps +away from her friend.</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand,” he said eagerly, looking her full +in the face, a deeply troubled, excited expression in his +eyes, “I must entreat of you not to judge me harshly, +but with mercy and kindness. I merit all your pity. I am +a most unhappy man. It would have been well if I could +have explained my position last night, as I meant to do; +but this is no time or place to end the conversation then +begun and interrupted. May I beseech you to suspend +your judgment until I have been able to tell you how +I am circumstanced?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p> + +<p>“I have no right to judge you,” said Lois coldly. “If +you are unhappy, you have my pity.”</p> + +<p>She felt piqued that he fixed no time for giving her the +promised explanation. He left her still mystified.</p> + +<p>“Will you give me your promise not to condemn me +until you have heard my story?” urged Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“I repeat, I have no right to judge you,” said Lois. +“Those who have the care of me and my affairs have the +best right to hear what you have to say.”</p> + +<p>If her words sounded cold and repelling to her hearer, +they were yet more so to herself. She felt that she spoke +harshly, and with scarcely veiled bitterness, and, as she +saw the young man droop his head, she hastily added, +with a softened tone:</p> + +<p>“Your language, sir, is strange and perplexing to me. +You allude to some unhappy circumstances, of which, as +you say, I am entirely ignorant. If you see fit to explain +these circumstances to me, I think you may count on my +sympathy. If you do not deem it necessary that I should +be further acquainted with them, let it be forgotten that +you have ever touched on them at all.”</p> + +<p>The young girl, faint and agitated from contending +feelings, put out her hands like one who does not see +her way clearly. Blanche, who had drawn back, stepped +hastily to her side, and gave her an arm to lean upon.</p> + +<p>“My poor darling!” whispered Blanche tenderly.</p> + +<p>The sympathetic accents vibrated on Lois’ heart like an +electric shock. She roused herself from the momentary +weakness to which she had yielded, and extended her +hand to Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“Adieu, sir,” she said.</p> + +<p>The young man caught her hand, and involuntarily +pressed the slender fingers within his own. He gazed +for an instant into the dreamy eyes, so pure, so frank, so +truthful, so trusting, then, loosing the little hand, turned +away with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>As he did so, Lady Quaintree looked back, and made a +signal to the girls to accompany her to the carriage, +which was in waiting. She smiled in her own gracious +way upon the young officer, though she really wished him +at Jericho.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> + +<p>He advanced, and lifted his hat.</p> + +<p>“I presume, madam, I can be of no service to you?” he +said, glancing for a moment at the Honorable Gerald, +who was unknown to him.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree, remembering that the young men +were strangers to each other, introduced them.</p> + +<p>“If you should happen to make a longer stay in town +than you count on,” she said, “we shall be very pleased +to see you, either this evening, or to-morrow, or at any +time it may suit you to come. I find my lord’s illness is +not of so serious a nature as at first appeared.”</p> + +<p>An interchange of civil smiles, a shake or two of the +hand, some polite valedictory salutations, and the brief +whirling scene was over—past as a dream.</p> + +<p>“I think I was right,” murmured Blanche, in her +friend’s ear, as they drove off in Lady Quaintree’s luxurious +carriage.</p> + +<p>Lois tightly pressed the hand that tenderly sought her +own; but did not meet Blanche’s eye, which she feared +for the moment.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne threw himself into a hansom.</p> + +<p>“Alderman’s Lane,” he cried to the driver.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">FRANK AMBERLEY’S ADVICE.</p> + + +<p>Captain Desfrayne was at first so eager and vehement, +that Frank Amberley found it a little difficult to disentangle +the strange story he had to tell.</p> + +<p>The young lawyer did not find himself in an agreeable +position. In the secret depths of his heart he would have +infinitely preferred that Paul Desfrayne should remain +bound. So long as his marriage was an unalterable fact, +there was no fear of his carrying off Lois. There was +scant hope for Frank himself, poor fellow; but he was +asked to give his best aid toward demolishing the great +bar to her union with this powerful rival. If she did not +care for any one else—and he reflected with a sigh that +she cared little for himself—the probability was that she +would not raise any urgent objections toward fulfilling +her dead benefactor’s wishes.</p> + +<p>But he was generous, and scorned to act a mean and +dishonorable part. The cloud was dissipated from his +grave, kind face by a sad smile, and he said:</p> + +<p>“You wish to ask my advice and assistance how to proceed?”</p> + +<p>“I shall be most thankful if you will give me your +opinion as to how I ought to act,” answered his visitor.</p> + +<p>“Is there any chance of your being able to compel this—your—Madam +Guiscardini to confess whether she has +or has not destroyed the stolen register?”</p> + +<p>“None that I can see. She is of a most stubborn nature. +Even if there were no particular object to be +gained, I believe she would obstinately refuse to do or +say anything that did not suit or please her.”</p> + +<p>“I am sincerely sorry for your cruel situation,” said +Frank Amberley, in a tone of profound feeling.</p> + +<p>“Of that I am assured,” replied Paul Desfrayne; “and +I come to you in the full confidence that you will help +me to the utmost of your power.”</p> + +<p>“The register being, we will say, destroyed, there is no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +resource but to trace out the priest who married Lucia +to her peasant lover?”</p> + +<p>“None.”</p> + +<p>“But the expense would be something frightful. There +would probably be a great delay, and in the end perhaps +the man might not be discovered.”</p> + +<p>“Could you form any idea of what the search might +cost?”</p> + +<p>“It would necessarily depend on the persons employed. +If I understood you aright, you have not trusted your +servant, Gilardoni, with the secret of your own unhappy +marriage?”</p> + +<p>“I have not. For one reason, I could not bear to humiliate +myself; for another, I desired to consult you before +moving a step or speaking a word.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you will be obliged to take him into your +confidence. He is master of the circumstances; he would +have the strongest motive for tracing out the missing +person. He would probably be more economical and +more devoted than any stranger could be. Send him, and +let him be accompanied by a professional detective. Perhaps +the search may not be such a lengthened one as +you fear.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne reflected for a few moments.</p> + +<p>“I had already resolved to abide by your advice,” he +said. “Let it be so. I would give all I have in the +world to be free from the consequences of my own mad +folly. When could he set out?”</p> + +<p>“As soon as he could make the necessary preparations. +The sooner the better, I should say.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think the expenses would be likely to +come to? It would be a bitter disappointment should +the search continue for a certain time, and fail almost +at the last for want of funds.”</p> + +<p>“Gilardoni, having traveled a good deal on the Continent, +as I understand you have implied, and being accustomed +to manage for himself and others, would be able +to give you a better estimate than I could form. In his +hands, I don’t think, after all, it would be so very great. +Say ten or fifteen pounds a week. Suppose it took him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> +ten months, or even fourteen or eighteen, the calculation +is easy.”</p> + +<p>“I will send him to you to-morrow, my dear friend,” +said Paul Desfrayne. “Heaven grant me a happy issue +to this search. But—but the suspense will be something +unbearable.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you will constantly hear how the affair is progressing,” +urged Frank Amberley. “Do you think I +could aid you by insisting on an interview with—with +this woman?”</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I fear it would be time wasted,” he answered. “She +would, perhaps, insult and annoy you——”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! Her most violent attack would only make me +laugh, my dear fellow,” interrupted Frank Amberley. +“It would be amusing. In fact, I should really like to +see this lovely tigress in her own den. One doesn’t often +enjoy a chance of interviewing a beautiful fury.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne grasped Frank’s hands, and looked +earnestly into those open, candid eyes that yet faithfully +veiled the secret that their owner was a noble, self-sacrificing +hero, offering up a possible gleam of happiness +on the altar of duty. Paul saw nothing but a kind, pleasant, +genial man, who undertook a matter of business +with the genial air of a friend.</p> + +<p>“I leave the affair entirely in your care,” he said, +“knowing full well that you will not neglect anything +that may tend to free me from the cruel burden that +weighs me down.”</p> + +<p>“You give me permission to speak as fully to this Italian +valet as I may find necessary?” asked Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>He lowered his gaze as he demanded this; his heart +felt heavy and sad, and he feared lest Paul Desfrayne +might read his thoughts.</p> + +<p>“Certainly. I give you carte blanche in every way.”</p> + +<p>“You do not object to my visiting Madam Guiscardini?”</p> + +<p>“I should be rejoiced if you undertook the unpleasant +task, were it only to hear what she has to say. It would +be a very different matter bullying a fellow like Gilardoni,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +and tackling a practised English lawyer like yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I should think so. Where is she to be found?”</p> + +<p>“When I called at her house on Monday, I was informed +that madam had gone to Paris, and nobody knew +when she would return. On consulting the newspapers, +however, I found she was advertised to appear on Friday +night——”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow evening?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I have been told that she prides herself on never +disappointing the public, and that she has never failed +once since her first appearance to perform on the nights +for which she is announced. Her health is excellent, and +she is passionately devoted to her art.”</p> + +<p>“Then, if I find she refuses to see me at her house——By +the way, where does she live?”</p> + +<p>“She did live in Porchester Square; but may change on +her return, by way of giving a little trouble to those who +may want to see her when it does not suit her to be visited. +But here is the address.”</p> + +<p>He scribbled down the number and name of the square +on the back of one of his own cards.</p> + +<p>“Have you—did you—that is to say—I mean, has any +explanation passed between you and Miss Turquand?” +inquired Frank Amberley, with some embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“I wished to speak to her—to tell her how unhappily +I am situated,” replied Paul Desfrayne hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>“Did you give her any notion of the nature of this barrier?” +asked Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“I scarcely know what I said; but I should imagine she +could readily guess to what I must allude. I accidentally +traveled in her company this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! Has she returned to London?”</p> + +<p>“Lady Quaintree received a telegram stating that her +husband was unwell——”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! Unwell? I must go to Lowndes +Square this evening,” exclaimed Frank, in great concern. +“Do you know what is the matter with him?”</p> + +<p>Paul shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Lady Quaintree was my informant, and she said that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> +the telegram stated simply the fact, without entering +into detail.”</p> + +<p>“I will go there directly office-hours are over. In case +I see Miss Turquand, and have any opportunity of speaking +to her, is it still your wish that I should enlighten +her as to the state of your affairs?”</p> + +<p>“It is essential that she should not be left in ignorance,” +said Paul. “It is my duty to inform her without +delay, as my silence may be injurious to her.” But he +sighed heavily as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“I will use my own discretion,” said Frank Amberley. +“But I could not take any important step without your +special sanction. You will send this Italian valet to +me?”</p> + +<p>“At once—early to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“We will set him to work directly he can make his +own personal arrangements. I will make a point of seeing +madam. If I do not succeed in obtaining an interview +with her at her residence, I will endeavor to surprise +her at the opera-house. I think it best to defer engaging +a detective to accompany Gilardoni until I see +him. You will not be able to come up to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“I fear not. Besides, I could not endure to be present +when you inform him of my position.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, what I have to do is, firstly, this evening, +to try to find a chance of enlightening Miss Turquand; +secondly, to-morrow morning, to hold a consultation with +and give instructions to this Leonardo Gilardoni; thirdly, +to-morrow evening, to endeavor to surprise Madam +Guiscardini into some kind of admission, and, if I do not +see her, I must make an opportunity of doing so on Saturday +or Monday, or some time next week. The way is +plain enough. Whether it leads to a happy harbor of +rest remains to be seen.”</p> + +<p>“It will be impossible for me ever to thank you sufficiently,” +said Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“Do not speak of that,” replied Frank Amberley. “Are +you obliged to return to your quarters at once?”</p> + +<p>“At once; yes.”</p> + +<p>The two men clasped hands, and parted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree found that her husband’s illness was +not of a seriously alarming nature, but yet sufficiently +grave to justify Gerald in sending for her. The doctor +had ordered the patient to bed; but it was not necessary +for any one to remain with him to watch. Her ladyship, +therefore, with her son and the two young ladies, was at +liberty to dine as usual.</p> + +<p>It was not yet the hour fixed for dinner when Frank +Amberley arrived at the house.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Gerald went out, sir, and has not come home yet, +though he said he’d be back to dinner,” the domestic +said. “But the young ladies are in the drawing-room.”</p> + +<p>The servant threw open the door, announced Mr. +Amberley, and then retired.</p> + +<p>Throughout the house the lamps had been lighted, but +were all still turned down to a mere spark; for the long +summer days had only begun to show signs of shortening. +In the drawing-room, a soft, amber glow, subdued +and mellow, mingled its rays with the dreamy semitwilight.</p> + +<p>At first, the profound, peaceful silence made Frank +Amberley imagine the apartment was uninhabited; but, +as the door closed, a soft swish of silken garments undeceived +him.</p> + +<p>For a moment his heart fluttered with pain and pleasure +at the thought that he was possibly alone with Lois; +but instantly after the unfamiliar figure of Blanche Dormer +presented itself.</p> + +<p>She had been reading one of the new magazines, +nestling in a quiet corner by one of the windows.</p> + +<p>It was a sufficiently embarrassing situation, as neither +knew what to say. A formal salutation passed, and then +Miss Dormer meditated for a moment or two how she +could best manage to beat a retreat.</p> + +<p>Presently, however, these two forgot their embarrassment, +and found themselves chatting together as if they +had been friends for a dozen years.</p> + +<p>In about ten minutes Lois appeared, and Blanche did +not then think it necessary to run away. Miss Turquand +was, of course, quite unconscious that Frank Amberley +had any special communication to make, and totally unaware<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> +that he took any particular interest in Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>When Lady Quaintree came down, she found the +three young people sitting near one of the windows, engaged +in what seemingly was an agreeable and almost +lively conversation. As she stood for a moment at the +door, an odd thought struck her for the first time.</p> + +<p>“What a charming wife for Frank Blanchette would +make!” she said to herself.</p> + +<p>She pressed Frank to stay to dinner, and he very gladly +accepted her invitation.</p> + +<p>Although saddened by the absence of the master of +the house, the little dinner-party was extremely pleasant. +Gerald returned just in time to meet his mother, +the young ladies, and his Cousin Frank, in the drawing-room +before they went down-stairs.</p> + +<p>As Frank was a member of the family, he had every +right and excuse, though not living in the house, to linger +after dinner. He felt loath to depart. Not only was +every moment spent in the presence of Lois exquisitely +sweet to him; but it might be long before he could conveniently +obtain so favorable an opportunity for speaking +to her as he should probably find this evening. He +was right in staying; for the moment came at last.</p> + +<p>Lady Quaintree was up-stairs, Gerald and Miss Dormer +were talking together, and there seemed no immediate +fear of interruption.</p> + +<p>Then Frank Amberley braced up his nerves, and prepared +himself for the duty he had undertaken.</p> + +<p>He thought it best to inform Lois of the entire story, +as far as he was master thereof, withholding the name +of the lady, however, and the fact that she had been already +married when she became the wife of Paul Desfrayne. +He thought that if the search for the Padre +Josef should prove unsuccessful, as it probably might do, +it would not be well either to unsettle Lois’ mind, or to +fix an additional brand on Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>Lois listened in dead silence, pulling out the lace of +her handkerchief mechanically. It was not until the +close of the little history that she made any comment.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> +Frank ended at the stormy departure of the signora on +the morning of her marriage with Captain Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>“It is a sad story,” she said, in a low, faint tone. “I am +deeply sorry for him; and I am—I am sorry that—that +his name should have been—been linked with mine in—in +Mr. Vere Gardiner’s will.”</p> + +<p>“I rely upon you not to let any one have a suspicion of +this unfortunate affair,” urged Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>Lois assured him she would keep the matter a profound +secret. She longed to get away to the solitude of +her own chamber, there to reflect on what she had heard; +but could think of no excuse. A strange, unaccountable +sinking of the heart oppressed her.</p> + +<p>“Why do I thus think about one who is a stranger to +me, and can never be aught else?” she asked herself. +“I must dismiss the subject from my mind forever after +this night.”</p> + +<p>And yet she caught herself wondering when she should +again meet Paul Desfrayne, and planning how she should +behave to him.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley watched her face with all the eager +devotion of a man hopelessly, irretrievably in love, utterly +unconscious that the bright eyes of the pretty country +girl in white muslin and blue ribbons wandered many +times his way. It was with difficulty that he restrained +a passionate, plainly worded avowal of his love and +adoration, and resisted the desire to ask Lois if there +was any chance of his being able to win the slightest return +of his all-engrossing passion.</p> + +<p>He was pretty confident that up to this time she had +not cared specially for any one, and he believed it to be +perfectly impossible that any other human being could +love her as deeply, as truly as he did.</p> + +<p>A few moments more, and he might have tempted his +fate, and might have gained some answer leading him +to hope; but the door of the center drawing-room opened, +and Lady Quaintree came through the silken archway +between the two salons.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship was ill pleased to see Lois and Frank +together, and dissatisfied to notice that Gerald appeared +much taken with the lively, piquant Blanche Dormer,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> +who was playing with a not altogether unskilful hand at +the pleasant game of flirtation. It would not suit the +inclination of Lady Quaintree did Gerald fall in love +with and marry this young girl, even if she did carry +twenty thousand pounds as her dot.</p> + +<p>Without appearing inhospitable—nay, she seemed to +be sorry to break up the little party—she made it apparent +to Frank that it would be only kind and considerate +of him to take an early departure, in order that the +ladies might rest after their hurried journey.</p> + +<p>Turn which way she would, Lois could not rid herself +of the haunting figure of Paul Desfrayne. When she +gained her own room, she sat down at the foot of her +bed to think.</p> + +<p>“I am glad, I know,” she whispered to herself. “Oh! +I am sorry for him, though I fear he scarcely deserves +that any one should pity him, when he was guilty of +such folly. He ought to have had more sense—he ought +not to have allowed himself to be carried away by such +a foolish fancy. Yet it seems a heavy punishment for +a passing folly. They say: ‘Marry in haste, repent at +leisure.’ Lifelong unhappiness, poor fellow! No wonder +he seems strange, and different from other people. +He is quite different from any one I ever saw. How +wicked and ungrateful this girl must have been! It is +inconceivable that any creature could have behaved so +vilely toward him. He seems so good, so kind, so——What +nonsense am I running off into, when I know +nothing about him!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE FIGURE ROBED IN BLACK.</p> + + +<p>On leaving Alderman’s Lane, Captain Desfrayne made +a hurried luncheon, and then at once returned to the +station, to start therefrom back to his quarters.</p> + +<p>He had forgotten to ascertain the exact hour at which +the train left; the consequence was he had to wait some +five-and-thirty minutes. That delay cost a life.</p> + +<p>When fairly seated in the train, Paul had full leisure +for reflection. His thoughts were not pleasant.</p> + +<p>He had not dared to stay to see his mother. It had +been difficult and bitter enough to tell her the fatal secret +of his unhappy marriage. To let her know the deeper +humiliation in which he found himself involved would +just now be impossible. It would be time enough to +reveal this additional misery when the search proved successful; +if it failed——</p> + +<p>If it failed!</p> + +<p>“I fancied I could not be more wretched,” he thought. +“I was mistaken. Could it be possible to wring a confession +from Guiscardini? Alas, no! Her nature is +absolutely callous. She would elect to be bound to me +rather than to my servant. How am I to face my servant—how +am I to tell my wretched story? My pride is +trailed in the dust. My name, given to my charge free +from spot or taint, is stained and splashed with shame.”</p> + +<p>It was night before he reached Holston. Arrived +there, he engaged the last rickety old fly left within the +precincts of the station, and drove to the barracks.</p> + +<p>The vehicle had lumbered its way almost to the gates, +when Captain Desfrayne, happening to look from the +open window, to ascertain how far it had proceeded, saw, +by the long, slanting rays cast from the lamps, a female +figure, draped in black, closely veiled, hurrying along +the road toward the station.</p> + +<p>The mien, the step, even the somber robes, seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> +somehow familiar to Paul Desfrayne. He put his hands +to his forehead in horror and despair.</p> + +<p>“Great heavens! It is impossible!” he cried. “Am I +going out of my senses? Is this figure conjured up by +my disordered brain, or is it—can it be—Lucia Guiscardini? +It <i>cannot</i> be—and yet—and yet it is her very walk—her +insolent bearing.”</p> + +<p>The wild idea that it might be her spirit for an instant +crossed his mind—a pardonable notion in the excited +state of his brain, for the swiftly gliding form looked +spectral in the blackness of the summer night, seeming +more shadowy from being draped in such dark vesture.</p> + +<p>Recovering from the first shock, however, he hurriedly +stopped the vehicle, ordering the coachman to wait for +him, and ran back in the direction the misty form had +traversed.</p> + +<p>He looked from side to side, and even struck with his +cane the bushes that grew by the edge of the road on +either hand, but no sign betrayed that any human creature +besides himself and the old man seated on the box of +the fly were within miles.</p> + +<p>Distracted by contending feelings, he went hastily back +to the spot where he had left the vehicle. The driver, an +old and stupid man, was almost asleep, and stolidly +awaited the return of his fare, without troubling to guess +why he had so suddenly alighted.</p> + +<p>“Did you see any one pass just now?” demanded Captain +Desfrayne excitedly.</p> + +<p>“No, sur, I can’t say I did,” replied the driver.</p> + +<p>“Not a woman?”</p> + +<p>“Not a soul.”</p> + +<p>“A woman dressed in black, walking very quickly toward +the station?”</p> + +<p>“I see no one at all, sur. Be there onything wrong at +all?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell. I hope not. You think, if any one +passed along this road, they must go to the station?”</p> + +<p>“Unless they stopped in the fields.”</p> + +<p>“Is your horse very tired?”</p> + +<p>“No—he bain’t so fresh as he moight be, but——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> + +<p>“I want to return to the station for a few minutes, +and after that to resume my way to the barracks,” said +Paul Desfrayne. “Drive as fast as you can.”</p> + +<p>So firmly persuaded was he of the reality of Lucia +Guiscardini’s appearance on this lonely spot that he was +resolved to seek some information of the clerk and porters +at the railway. He reentered the shaky old vehicle; +the stolid old driver whipped the weary old horse, and +in a minute they were returning the way they came.</p> + +<p>There was just a possibility that he might surprise her +at the station. What conceivable motive could she have +had for coming hither? Probably to see Gilardoni, her +legal and legitimate husband. But why visit him in this +secret manner, when at any moment she could have commanded +his presence at a place infinitely more suitable? +There was not much doubt that her apparition boded +evil.</p> + +<p>As the fly came in sight of the station, Paul had the +satisfaction of seeing the last train for London slowly +puff and snort its way along its destined iron track.</p> + +<p>“Wait here until I come back,” he said to the coachman, +and then rushed into the station.</p> + +<p>“Did a lady dressed in black take a ticket here just +now?” he asked of the ticket-clerk.</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne looked about for one of the porters. +After a little delay he found one half-asleep on a bench, +for the last trains had departed for the night. He shook +the man by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Did you see a lady dressed in black just now? I +believe she must have gone by the train to London, and +must have had a return ticket.”</p> + +<p>“I was not here when the train for London left, sir,” +replied the man respectfully. “The other porter was on +duty—I was in the office.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” demanded Paul Desfrayne.</p> + +<p>He seemed destined to be baffled at every turn.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid he’s gone, sir.”</p> + +<p>An inquiry resulted in proving the fear to be correct. +Another inquiry elicited the fact that he lived a mile +and a half away across some fields.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span></p> + +<p>In no very enviable frame of mind, Captain Desfrayne +returned to his waiting fly, to continue his broken +journey to the barracks.</p> + +<p>“Did you find her, sur?” asked the flyman.</p> + +<p>The young man shook his head, too much dejected, and +even physically exhausted, to be able to otherwise reply.</p> + +<p>At length he reached his quarters, when he dismissed +the vehicle in which he had come. To-morrow he meant +to seek once again for evidence as to whether the lady +dressed in black had been seen by any other than himself.</p> + +<p>His rooms seemed strangely silent as he approached +them. Gilardoni had hitherto contrived to make his presence +cheerful, and always had a reality as well as words +of welcome for his master. A bright glow of pleasant +light, gleaming through doors ajar, a slight movement of +ever-busy feet or hands, had given under his influence +a faint tinge of <i>home</i>.</p> + +<p>The door of the first room was ajar, though scarce +perceptibly so. A dim ray of light struggled through, +as if seeking to disclose some ghastly secret. A silence +as of the grave reigned. Apparently not a living creature +was within the apartments.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne paused for a minute or two before entering. +A strange, painful foreboding seized him. What +he feared he dared not admit to himself.</p> + +<p>What if that woman—Lucia Guiscardini—had come +hither with some sinister motive, and had slain her husband +in one of her almost ungovernable fits of passion?</p> + +<p>But no, it could not be. What end could she hope +to gain? She valued her own safety, her own ease; she +prized this beautiful and splendid world too highly to +let her temper carry her to such a dangerous extreme.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni had fallen asleep. The hour was late, and +he was, no doubt, weary with waiting.</p> + +<p>Taking up the heavy lamp, Paul held it above his head +as he entered the second chamber, which was a sitting-room.</p> + +<p>Directly opposite to the door, in an oblique direction, +was a couch, the first object on which Captain Desfrayne’s +eyes rested.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> + +<p>At full length upon this couch, in an attitude that +seemed to indicate the young man was enjoying an easy +sleep, lay Leonardo Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne placed the lamp on a side table, and +then said rather loudly:</p> + +<p>“Gilardoni, my good fellow!”</p> + +<p>The recumbent figure made no sign of awaking. Paul +Desfrayne, seriously uneasy, but still fighting with his +fears, crossed the room, and placed a hand on the sleeper’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Gilardoni, awake!” he said, in a voice which, spite of +his effort at self-constraint, trembled.</p> + +<p>Not the faintest sound issued from the pallid lips. Not +a movement showed the smallest sign of life.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne at last placed the palm of his hand +upon the temples of the apparently sleeping man. They +were almost ice-cold.</p> + +<p>The young officer caught the hands lying outstretched +on either side the silent, rigid form, and felt for the +pulse, his heart throbbing so violently as well-nigh to +suffocate him.</p> + +<p>With a groan of despair, he dropped the cold hands. +Leonardo Gilardoni was dead.</p> + +<p>One cruel touch had sent him from the world—one +touch of those delicate waxen fingers he had loved so +much and kissed with transport so often—one little stroke +from the hand of the woman he had so fatally wasted +his heart upon, the wife he had idolized, for whom he +would have laid down his life willingly in the days of his +fond, blind worship.</p> + +<p>Only too truly did Paul Desfrayne now understand +the meaning of that woman’s mysterious presence here. +But why had she come—for what reason had she risked +her very life—what advantage did she promise herself +from this horrible deed? It was absolutely impossible +she could have heard anything of the projected search +for her brother. The only idea he could conjure up +was that the Padre Josef was on his way back to Europe.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S DIAMOND RING.</p> + + +<p>Paul Desfrayne’s eyes had not deceived him. He had +really and truly seen Lucia Guiscardini hurrying away +from the scene of her murderous treachery.</p> + +<p>A woman of insatiable ambition, she had resolved to +let nothing stand in the way of her advancement to +the highest dignities she could hope to reach.</p> + +<p>Ignorant, ungovernable in her temper, resentful when +any one crossed her path, or tried to hinder her from +following her own fancies, she was at once resolute in +planning schemes, and unscrupulous in carrying them +out.</p> + +<p>During her brief flight to Paris, on escaping what she +felt would be a useless interview with Captain Desfrayne, +she had reflected with all the force of her cunning brain +as to the course she should take.</p> + +<p>It was true that a Russian prince, reputed to be of +fabulous wealth, was devoted to her, and had offered +his heart, hand, royal coronet, and vast possessions. His +diamonds alone would have been a lure to her; and +neither by day nor by night could she resist the glittering, +delicious dreams conjured up by his offers.</p> + +<p>She had not destroyed the marriage-register stolen +from the charge of her brother—not because she was +withheld from the deed by any conscientious scruple, +but she did not know what the punishment for so black +a crime might be were she ever discovered.</p> + +<p>Until she accidentally saw Leonardo Gilardoni speaking +to Captain Desfrayne, she had not for some time +been aware whether he was living or dead.</p> + +<p>A sudden terror seized her when she found that these +two men had come together. It would have been a +welcome relief if she could have been sure they would +release her from her bondage; but she knew that both +had every reason to hate her with the bitterness of men +who had been utterly ruined by her cruel hand, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +she felt persuaded that they were bent on dragging her +to justice.</p> + +<p>She kept the book she so keenly abhorred hidden in a +cabinet with a peculiar lock and several secret drawers, +and, in fear lest Leonardo should be the means of a +search being made among the papers, she thought and +thought until her head ached from sheer pain and weariness +of the desirability of burning the telltale pages. +But the vague dread of the unknown penalty withheld +her, even when she once took out the parchment-covered +volume, and stood contemplating it. She had but to +ignite a taper close at hand, and the deed would be accomplished +in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>“But I dare not,” she shudderingly decided. “No; I +must pursue another plan.”</p> + +<p>With infinite caution and craftiness, she ascertained +whither Paul Desfrayne had gone, and found for certain +that he had taken Gilardoni with him. Determined to +see her husband, but afraid to send for him, or to leave +any trace that they had met, she had dressed herself in +plain dark clothes, of a very different description from +those she usually wore, and had gone down to Holston.</p> + +<p>As the express arrived in London, the train in which +she was to start was slowly filling with passengers. From +the window of the second-class carriage, in which she +had purposely seated herself, she had seen Paul Desfrayne +alight, and then linger to speak with the young +lady, whose appearance was completely unfamiliar to +the Italian singer. She felt thankful that there would +be no risk of meeting him at Holston.</p> + +<p>A porter happened to be near the door of the compartment, +and she asked him when the next train would +leave London for Holston. The man went to look at +the time-table, and returned with the information that +there would not be one until 6:15. She thanked the porter +with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Good,” she thought to herself. “I shall have time +enough for my little talk.”</p> + +<p>Arrived at Holston, she walked toward the barracks, +which, unless she could not help herself, she did not +intend to enter. There was a dingy, uninviting public<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> +house in the vicinity, and a few cottages sprinkled +about.</p> + +<p>After a brief consideration, she went up to one of the +most decent-looking of the latter, where an old woman +sat knitting by the door.</p> + +<p>The old dame readily allowed her to sit down, and, +after a short, desultory talk, the signora, who affected +to be a very plain person indeed, asked the woman if +there was any boy about who would run on a message +to the barracks.</p> + +<p>“I want to see my husband,” she said very simply. +“You see, he and I had a quarrel before he left London, +and I am so unhappy. I believe I was to blame; but I +don’t want to go there, and be looked at by the men +there. My husband might be displeased by my coming.”</p> + +<p>The old dame sympathized with the young wife’s +feelings, and readily found a lout of a boy, who stared +with all his eyes at the beautiful stranger in the somber +garments.</p> + +<p>Madam Guiscardini gave him a tiny note in a sealed +envelope, directed to Mr. Gilardoni, and slipped a shilling +into his hand. She could not venture to give him +more, lest he should talk. The boy went, and the signora +waited, listening to the old woman’s talk, and comprehending +no more of her babble than she did of the +buzzing of the bees and flies in the neat little garden.</p> + +<p>Within half an hour she saw, as she looked eagerly +from the window, the well-known form of Leonardo Gilardoni +rapidly approaching the cottage, accompanied by +her messenger. Her note had contained only a line or +two, in Italian:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Leonardo, I would see you. I have something of +importance to say to you. The bearer of this will tell +you where to find me.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Lucia.</span>”<br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>She was still standing by the window when he entered +the diminutive room. They had not met since that +day he had surprised her in the garden at Florence. The +recollection of that day came back on both with a rush.</p> + +<p>Leonardo paused on the threshold. Lucia did not +move.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> + +<p>“You have sent for me?” he said.</p> + +<p>The signora shrugged her shoulders and smiled mockingly, +it seemed to her husband.</p> + +<p>“Why have you sent for me?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>She left her place by the window, and came near to +him.</p> + +<p>“What I have to say,” she answered, “I would not +that other ears than yours should hear. Will you walk +a little way with me toward the corn-fields I see yonder?” +pointing from the window at the back of the room.</p> + +<p>“It is indifferent to me where I listen to you. It is +impossible you can have aught to say that will be pleasant +for me to hear,” replied Gilardoni bitterly.</p> + +<p>“That remains to be seen,” she lightly replied. “Perhaps +I may have something to say that will please you +very much indeed.”</p> + +<p>For a moment he thought that perhaps she knew her +brother was coming back, and that she desired to offer +some kind of compromise, or to throw herself on his +mercy. But he followed very quietly as she led the way +down the narrow path of the garden at the rear of the +cottage, brushing past the common yet sweet-smelling +humble country flowers, until they were at the bottom, +and could step unimpeded into a piece of ground that +ran between the garden and the corn-field, where the +golden grain lay like a yellow sea.</p> + +<p>Here no one could possibly overhear what passed, and +presently they would be out of sight of even the cottages +that lay sprinkled about. Then Lucia spoke. Her voice +was firm and calm, her manner composed.</p> + +<p>“Leonardo Gilardoni, I acknowledge no claim you +may choose to make upon me, but I wish to be free from +any annoyance you may possibly, from spite, think fit +to bring upon me. I have received offers of marriage +from a nobleman of the highest rank, and of immense +wealth. It is my purpose to accept these offers.”</p> + +<p>“While you are the wife of another?” exclaimed Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>“Prove your words,” she disdainfully replied. “But +that you cannot do, be they true or false. I have not +come here to bandy words with you as to my real position.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +I am well aware that, although your accusations +would be totally without foundation, yet, if breathed to +his highness, they would prejudice him against me. +Therefore, I wish to silence you. If you refuse to accede +to my proposition, it does not signify your using it as +an additional proof of your base calumnies, for you will +not be able to show that I ever made it.”</p> + +<p>“Go on. Your proposition?”</p> + +<p>“If you will agree to sign a paper, acknowledging that +there is not the slightest foundation for your assertion +that I have been married before—to you—and will further +agree that on signing this paper you will depart for +America, and promise never to return, I will settle ten +thousand pounds on you. Nay, do not speak. I trust +to your promise, for I know you would not break your +word, nor would you promise lightly.”</p> + +<p>Leonardo Gilardoni broke into a bitter laugh as he +folded his arms and looked his wife steadily in the face.</p> + +<p>She raised her hands almost in a supplicating manner, +and for a moment he idly noticed the flash and +sparkle of a wonderfully brilliant ring upon her finger.</p> + +<p>“You mean this proposition seriously?” he asked.</p> + +<p>A malevolent light gleamed in the lustrous eyes of +Madam Guiscardini, and a spiteful smile curled round +the ruby-red lips.</p> + +<p>“You think I love you so well that I have taken the +trouble and run the risk of secretly traveling all the way +hither from London for the sake of lightly enjoying a +passing jest with you?” she sibilated.</p> + +<p>“Accept my offer, and see if it be really meant or not. +I know you to be of a dogged, stubborn nature. I know, +to my cost, that once you take a crotchet into your head, +nothing can displace it. I once appealed to your love—a +passion I neither believe in nor comprehend—I wept +at your feet, and you turned a deaf ear to my entreaties. +Silence! Hear me!</p> + +<p>“I never cared for you, and now I hate you! I appealed +to your <i>love</i>—now I appeal to your interest. +Surely—surely—surely you will not refuse a fortune. +Surely your hate of me cannot lead you to vindictively +mar my brilliant prospects. Perhaps it is folly to admit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> +that a few injurious words from you could turn his +highness against me; but I am frank with you.</p> + +<p>“Of course, I might laugh your accusations to scorn, +but the prince might—well, your words might hurt me, +for that man is as proud as Lucifer, although his absurd +infatuation, which he calls love, induces him to lay all +his earthly possessions, all his ancient prejudices, at the +feet of a ‘singing-woman.’ With ten thousand pounds +you will be rich; you will begin a new life, be happy with +some meek-spirited, pretty Griselda, who may fly to fulfil +your slightest wish or command.”</p> + +<p>She had spoken so rapidly that, as she paused, her +breath came in quick gasps. For the first time since she +had entered on this conversation, her heart beat violently.</p> + +<p>“You think I would sell my soul for ten thousand +pounds,” Leonardo Gilardoni slowly said—“my soul and +yours, my wife? I decline.”</p> + +<p>“You do not mean it! You say so that I may double +the price!” exclaimed the signora. “No. Speak. What +sum do you ask to fall in with my wishes?”</p> + +<p>Gilardoni looked fixedly into the luminous eyes so +eagerly fastened upon him, as if he would read the innermost +thoughts they so partially revealed.</p> + +<p>“You know me well enough, you say, to be aware that +once I have made up my mind to what is right, nothing +will turn me from it,” he coldly replied. “I say distinctly +that you are my wife, by all the laws of Heaven and man, +and while I live you cannot marry any other. I refuse +to comply with your infamous desire. I have said it. +Had I the means, I would go to South America, to seek +your brother, who could prove our marriage. What +have you done with the book you stole?”</p> + +<p>A sudden thought seized Lucia Guiscardini. Paul +Desfrayne had surely discovered her previous marriage, +and was about to send Gilardoni in search of the Padre +Josef. If so, she was probably ruined. Her plan had +been to rid herself by bribery of Gilardoni, and then to +make a proposition to Paul Desfrayne, making it a matter +of mutual interest to keep the second marriage a +dead secret.</p> + +<p>Only too well she knew that once Gilardoni had said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> +no, it would be impossible to persuade him to say yes. +If these two men—he and his master—combined against +her, adieu to her dazzling hopes. She had trusted that +Gilardoni’s evident poverty would render him a willing +accomplice to her nefarious scheme, and now she was +furious at her failure.</p> + +<p>In the event of finding her husband utterly intractable, +she had designed another and infinitely darker +course, which she resolved to carry into execution. For +a few moments she remained silent, ignoring Gilardoni’s +direct question, and then she merely said:</p> + +<p>“Good-by, then! We shall probably never meet again. +I defy you! I hope your spite may not be able to hurt +me; but I do not fear you. My offer was made to save +myself annoyance. Say what you can, the worst your +vindictive fancy may invent, your words will be but +empty air. Proof you have none. Go on your preposterous +chase if you will. I care not.”</p> + +<p>She held out her hand mockingly. As she expected, +Gilardoni refused to clasp it, and, in affected anger at his +repulse, she struck him lightly, her closed fingers passing +across his wrist. Then she turned, and, before Gilardoni +had time either to speak or detain her, she had gained +the road.</p> + +<p>The terrible deed she had contemplated being accomplished +beyond human recall, the miserable woman was +seized with a kind of terror and exhaustion. Having +placed herself out of sight, she sat down by a great tree, +creeping under its shelter so as to remain unseen by any +one who might be passing. Daring to the last degree of +recklessness in plotting, she yet lacked the iron nerves +that were needed to support her in her criminal schemes. +Faint and exhausted, she stayed here until some time +after nightfall, and then fled toward the station.</p> + +<p>As Captain Desfrayne passed, she was unable to recognize +him, his face and form being shrouded in darkness +within the vehicle, and when he had alighted and pursued +her, she had not dared to look back.</p> + +<p>Gilardoni had remained motionless when she left him, +immersed in painful thoughts.</p> + +<p>“Good Heaven!” he said aloud; “and I once loved this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +woman! It would not be spite nor hate; but were she +to trap any innocent man to his ruin, it would be my duty +to speak.”</p> + +<p>He clasped his hands above his head in a transport +of grief, and then, for the first time, felt a slight pain. +He glanced at his left wrist, and found it smirched with +crimson blood. The wound, he supposed, had been inflicted +by the large diamond ring he had noticed on his +wife’s finger.</p> + +<p>Binding his handkerchief about the wrist, he turned +to retrace his steps. He would have regarded that faint +scratch very differently had he known that his life-blood +was already imbued with a subtle narcotic poison emanating +from one of the stones in that ring.</p> + +<p>As he entered his master’s rooms he was conscious +of a strange faintness and an unpleasant burning of the +tongue. He had found some difficulty in ascending the +staircase, and had scarcely lighted the lamp, when he +crept into the second apartment, and threw himself on +a couch, feeling as if utterly exhausted.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what is the matter with me,” he muttered, +passing his hand over his forehead. “I have taken +nothing that could hurt me. I suppose it’s a reaction. +That was a painful meeting with—with my wife. May +Heaven forgive her all her wickedness toward me, though—though——Strange, +this weakness seems to increase, +and my thoughts are wandering.”</p> + +<p>The faintness grew worse, so did the burning in his +mouth and throat. The unhappy man rose, and endeavored +to drink some water, but the effort to swallow +was too painful.</p> + +<p>“May Heaven forgive <i>me</i> all my sins!” he murmured. +“I believe I am dying. Dying!” he wildly repeated, raising +himself suddenly, and looking about distractedly, then +glancing down at his hand. “Dying! She has destroyed +me. Oh, Lucia—Lucia—Lucia!”</p> + +<p>Burning tears forced their way as he sank back. By +degrees he floated into a kind of sleep, and then he forgot +everything.</p> + +<p>And as he lay dead in the silence of that lonely room,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> +the woman who had so remorselessly slain him was +hastening back to the great city, there to still further +shape out the path that was to conduct her——</p> + +<p>Whither—whither?</p> + +<p>To the almost regal chambers of her princely lover, +or to the condemned cell of the manslayer?</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">FRANK AMBERLEY’S MISSION.</p> + + +<p>The next morning Mr. Amberley went to his office as +usual.</p> + +<p>As he passed the door on which appeared the name of +Mr. Willis Joyner—the back room on the first floor—the +dapper figure and pleasant face of that gentleman +appeared on the threshold. In spite of his age and his +gray whiskers, Mr. Willis Joyner was preferred by many +moneyed spinsters and richly jointured widows even +before the grave, handsome Mr. Amberley, who never +paid any compliments, and apparently regarded business +as business, and never sweetened the sourness and dryness +of the law with the acceptable honey of soft words +and smiling glances.</p> + +<p>“Ah! thought ’twas you, Amberley,” said Mr. Willis. +“Thought I knew your step. Want to see you when +you’ve looked over your letters.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” was Mr. Amberley’s very simple rejoinder, +as he pursued his upward course.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes or a quarter of an hour he came back.</p> + +<p>Mr. Willis Joyner wanted to see him about “that affair +of Frampton’s,” Frampton being a wealthy commoner +who was going to marry a rich baron’s sister, and +the “affair” being one of very complicated marriage-settlements.</p> + +<p>Some lively talk from the said Mr. Willis Joyner of +the one part, and some quiet listening from the said Mr. +Frank Amberley of the other part, resulted in the agreement +that the younger gentleman should repair at once +to Brompton, to have an interview with somebody concerned +on some knotty and disputed point.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley went off. About half an hour after +his departure, a youth came into the office with a telegram +marked “Immediate.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any answer wanted, do you know?” inquired +the melancholy clerk to whom he delivered it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p> + +<p>“No, I don’t. I’d better wait and see,” answered the +messenger.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Amberley ain’t in. I’ll ask Mr. Willis,” said the +clerk.</p> + +<p>Mr. Willis turned it over in his dainty white fingers, +and said it must be left for Mr. Amberley, who might +be away for a couple of hours. It was uncertain when +he might be back.</p> + +<p>The telegram was accordingly stuck in the rack, and +the bearer went away. It was from Captain Desfrayne, +informing Frank Amberley of the sudden death of Gilardoni, +the valet.</p> + +<p>Unconscious of the tragical revolution which had +taken place in Paul Desfrayne’s affairs, the young lawyer +pursued his way, planning to return as soon as his +immediate business should have been disposed of.</p> + +<p>It was not until he was some distance from the office, +rattling westward in a hansom, that he remembered he +had left no message in case Gilardoni should call early +in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>It would certainly be desirable to see Madam Guiscardini +before fixing any plan with the Italian valet; but +could such a thing be hoped for as obtaining an interview +with this beautiful tigress, and even granting that +she condescended to let herself be spoken with, it was +impossible to hope that she would betray a scrap of evidence +against herself.</p> + +<p>After some trouble, Frank Amberley succeeded in concluding +his business with the irascible old gentleman at +Blythe Villas, Brompton, to whom he had been despatched.</p> + +<p>Coming out from the house, he stood for several minutes +on the pavement before he reentered his waiting +hansom. He consulted his watch, and found it was yet +early—only half-past twelve.</p> + +<p>“I can but be refused,” he said to himself. “She must +be at home at this hour, I should imagine, and, by the +time I reach the place, will have about dressed, I suppose. +We can do nothing until she has had the chance of +speaking, and she might give me a clue as to the place +where her brother may be found.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span></p> + +<p>Stepping into the hansom, he said:</p> + +<p>“Porchester Square.”</p> + +<p>On the way he laid out the sketch of one of those +imaginary dialogues which never by any possibility take +place. He started by fancying himself, after some delay, +perhaps, admitted to the drawing-room of the famous +prima donna. She might or might not be there. At all +events, he would politely introduce himself by name; and +then he went on to picture the succeeding talk, ending in +two ways, one conceiving her to make fatal admissions +against herself, the other supposing her to contemptuously +defy him, and laugh all his crafty advances to +scorn.</p> + +<p>The driver of the hansom shot round the angle of the +square. But when he was within a few doors of the +house where Madam Guiscardini resided, he perceived +that there was already drawn up in front of the curb +facing the portico another and far more important vehicle +than his own—a splendidly appointed brougham, the +gray horses attached to which were handsomely caparisoned +in gleaming silver harness. The graceful animals +stood perfectly still, except when they half-impatiently +threw up their heads, jingling their elegant appointments, +or pawed the ground, as if anxious to start off.</p> + +<p>The cabman drove past the vehicle a few feet, and then +drew up, to wait further orders.</p> + +<p>It instantly struck the young lawyer that this might +be Madam Guiscardini’s brougham, and that probably +she was going out. He had heard that she never attended +the theater in the morning when she was to perform +in the evening, so she might not be going to the +opera-house; but, at all events, she was in all likelihood +on the point of taking a drive somewhere. He determined +to wait for some moments.</p> + +<p>“Turn the other way—right round—and then stop for +a while,” he said to the cabman. “If I should jump out +very suddenly, and go into that house, do not take any +notice, but wait quietly here until I come back.”</p> + +<p>“All right, sir,” said cabby, obeying the first part of his +instructions.</p> + +<p>Frank thus faced the brougham, which he had seen in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> +dashing past, and could see the street-door, at present +closed.</p> + +<p>Had Lucia Guiscardini happened to be in her dining-room, +drawing-room, or bedroom, all of which looked +out on the square, she might possibly have descried the +mysterious waiting vehicle standing opposite, or nearly +opposite, to her house, and, seeing the watchful figure +with the dark-bearded, thoughtful face, might by accident +have taken an alarm, and so countermanding her orders +for the drive, and denying herself on the score of a fit of +indisposition to any stranger inquiring for her, have +temporarily escaped a dangerous interview.</p> + +<p>But, unfortunately for herself, madam was in her +dressing-room, a dainty apartment behind her bedroom, +and only separated from it by silken and lace curtains. +She was occupied in three different ways—completing +her exquisite toilet, scolding and snarling at her French +maid, and cooing over a tangled skein of floss silk, from +which peered forth an infinitesimal black snout and two +bright, glittering brown eyes.</p> + +<p>Dress was a reigning passion with Lucia, and this day +she was doubly absorbed, in spite of the racking state +of her mind consequent upon the daring criminal step +she had taken the night before.</p> + +<p>Madam was going first to the opera-house, to excuse +herself to the manager, armed with a medical certificate +to the effect that she was incapable of singing that evening, +from a painful attack of hoarseness. This excuse +was in reality not ill-founded, for she had taken a slight +chill in her hurried journey the previous night.</p> + +<p>She felt it would be utterly impossible to sing that +evening. As it was, her hands were trembling from +nervous excitement; the faintest sound, if unexpected, +made her start with trepidation; her eyes and cheeks +were aflame. Had it not been that she was remarkably +abstemious, Finette would have suspected madam to be +suffering from the effects of an overdose of champagne.</p> + +<p>The second place to which she was bound was a garden-party, +where she had smilingly promised her princely +adorer she would show herself for at least a few minutes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<p>“If I go on at this rate,” the signora thought at last, “I +shall be ill. Come what may, I must brace up my nerves, +and try to compose myself. It would be ruin to my +hopes if I fell ill just now.”</p> + +<p>She shuddered as she fancied she might be seized with +fever, and lose her wits, perhaps, and betray in her wanderings +the crime of which she had been guilty within +these past twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>At length she was arrayed, all save the right-hand +glove; but she could not stay to put that on now, lest she +should be too late at the opera-house to enable the manager +to make other arrangements for the night. The +little white hands were loaded with blazing jewels, that +sparkled and flashed in the light; but she no longer wore +the fatal diamond ring that had scratched Gilardoni, the +valet, on the wrist.</p> + +<p>As she swept down the richly carpeted stairs, her movements +signalized by the soft frou-frou of her Parisian +garments, she meditated chiefly on the impending storm +between herself and the director. She floated down to +the door, followed by Finette, who was carrying the tiny +bundle of floss silk, the denomination of which appeared +to be Bébé.</p> + +<p>The door was held open by a lackey, in a plain but +exceedingly elegant livery. Madam hated all the male +servants in her own and other people’s houses, for they +often reminded her of the position to which had sunk the +man whose legal wife she was.</p> + +<p>But there was nothing in the sweetly modulated accents, +and in the absent, preoccupied eyes of the beautiful +mistress of the house to betray any feeling either way +toward the domestic as she said:</p> + +<p>“I shall be home about six. Dinner at seven.”</p> + +<p>The servant bowed, though a lightninglike glance at +Finette behind the signora’s back indicated surprise, for +if madam dined at seven, she evidently did not mean to +go to the opera, at all events as a performer.</p> + +<p>Madam put out one tiny foot to reach her brougham,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> +but drew back with a deep breath that narrowly escaped +being a cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>Standing just within the portico was a tall, gentlemanly-looking +man, a stranger to her, hat in hand, waiting +to address her.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE INLAID CABINET.</p> + + +<p>The sight of any and every stranger who spoke to or +even looked at Lucia must henceforth inevitably cause +her a thrill of fear.</p> + +<p>She had never seen this handsome young man with +the dark, grave, penetrating eyes before, to her knowledge; +yet he looked at her as if he would read her very +soul.</p> + +<p>Frank, the instant the door opened, had bounded from +his cab, and was waiting for the signora to issue forth. +He bowed profoundly.</p> + +<p>“Madam Guiscardini, I believe?” he said.</p> + +<p>He had recognized her at the first glance, having frequently +seen her at the opera, both in London and in +Paris, and being furthermore made familiar with her +strikingly marked features and imperial figure by the innumerable +photographs issued by London and Parisian +firms.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for madam to deny her own identity. +Frank noticed that she grew pale—perceptibly so, and +that the jeweled fingers of her ungloved hand twitched +nervously.</p> + +<p>“My name is Guiscardini,” she replied, after a slight +hesitation, and speaking in frigid accents.</p> + +<p>“May I beg the favor of a few moments’ private conversation +with you, madam?” asked Frank Amberley. +“My business is of the utmost importance, or I should +not delay you just as you are going out.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not,” angrily replied the cantatrice, her lips +trembling from mingled rage and fear. She imagined +that perhaps this gentlemanly fellow, with the handsome +face and urbane manners, might be a detective in +disguise. “It is impossible, my time is not my own, and +I cannot grant you even five minutes.”</p> + +<p>She glanced at the jeweled watch that hung at her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> +waist amid a coruscation of enameled lockets and miscellaneous +toys and trinkets.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry to be so pressing, madam, but if you will +give me ten minutes—I promise to go by the dial of your +own watch—I will not trespass longer.”</p> + +<p>He knew well that the business he came on could not +be disposed of in that time, but relied on the hope that +she would, if persuaded to enter on it, voluntarily extend +the time.</p> + +<p>“Who are you, and what do you want?” demanded +Madam Guiscardini sharply, looking keenly at him.</p> + +<p>“My name, madam, is Amberley—I have the honor to +belong to the firm of Messrs. Salmon, Joyner & Joyner, +who are solicitors.”</p> + +<p>“What do you want? I will not hear you, sir! Let me +pass, sir. You are rude and unmannerly not to take a +reasonable refusal. Let me pass, sir, I say—I insist!”</p> + +<p>She tried to push by him, in order to get to her +brougham, the door of which was held open by the powdered +lackey who had been sitting beside the coachman.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley laid a firm, detaining grip on her +wrist as she passed by.</p> + +<p>“Madam Guiscardini,” he whispered in her ear, “you +would consult your own interest in consenting to hear +me. I come from Captain Paul Desfrayne, and I wish +to ask you a few questions about Leonardo Gilardoni.”</p> + +<p>This time the signora could not restrain the scream +that rose to her lips. She stared wildly about her, and +then at the enemy who had so suddenly sprung up before +her.</p> + +<p>The idea that he was a detective became almost a certainty. +He had come to tax her with her double crime. +She must be cool and quiet, she thought the next moment, +and strive not to betray herself.</p> + +<p>Whatever he had to say, however, must not be said before +these prying, gossiping menials. With surprising +quickness, she rallied her forces, resisted the inclination +to swoon, and without answering her strange visitor, +turned back to Finette.</p> + +<p>“Put on your bonnet, girl, quick as lightning, and go +to the opera-house,” she said to her maid. “Tell Mr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> +Mervyn that I was on my way to him, but was detained +at the last moment, and that I shall not be able to sing +to-night. Take this medical certificate with you.”</p> + +<p>Finette took the paper, and flew up-stairs, glad of the +chance of a pleasant drive, yet vexed that she could not +stay to find out the mystery that was going on.</p> + +<p>Madam Guiscardini turned to Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“Follow me,” she said, in harsh accents.</p> + +<p>She glided up to the drawing-room, feeling at every +step as if her knees must yield under her. The young +lawyer silently followed her, wondering at the success +which had attended his effort to obtain an interview with +her.</p> + +<p>“Now, sir, may I ask the nature of your business with +me?” madam said, when she had closed the door, across +which she pulled the silken portière to deaden the sounds +from within, for she distrusted all her servants. She advanced +to the windows, as the point farthest away from +the reach of eavesdroppers, but neither seated herself nor +asked her visitor to sit down.</p> + +<p>“You may imagine that I have nothing very agreeable +to say, judging by the quarter from which I come,” +said Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“You say you come from Captain Desfrayne? What +business can you have to transact between Captain Desfrayne +and myself?” asked the signora, with an affectation +of surprise and curiosity.</p> + +<p>“You do not mention the other name.”</p> + +<p>“What other name?”</p> + +<p>“The name of Leonardo Gilardoni—of your husband, +madam.”</p> + +<p>The wretched woman’s hand closed on the slender +inlaid back of a chair for support. Every vestige of +color faded from her face, and her eyes looked haggard +for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know whom you mean,” she whispered, rather +than said.</p> + +<p>“That is a falsehood, madam.”</p> + +<p>“Why should you say that? By what right or license +do you come within my house to harass—to torture me?”</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley was almost amazed by the singular<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> +effect his few preparatory words seemed to have, and +could not reasonably account for it. This woman’s demeanor +was entirely different from what Paul Desfrayne +had yesterday prognosticated it would be. Why should +she evidence this fear—this shrinking? He felt there +must be some further mystery to solve, some new secret +to unravel. Had he known the contents of the telegram +then waiting for him in Alderman’s Lane, he would have +had a clue. As it was, he was mystified.</p> + +<p>Had Lucia Guiscardini, on the other hand, known the +simple nature of his errand, she would have entirely controlled +herself. But she already in fancy could imagine +his arresting grip on her shoulder, and the odd query +rose in her mind: “Will he handcuff me?”</p> + +<p>“By what right do I come?” Frank Amberley slowly +repeated, watching every change and variation in her agitated +face. “By the right of justice.”</p> + +<p>“Justice? I do not understand you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! yes, you do. I may as well inform you that Captain +Desfrayne, the man whom you so basely, so ungratefully +entrapped into an illegal marriage—the man +whose life you have blighted, whose happiness you have +ruined——”</p> + +<p>“Well? Be brief, I beg of you, for, as I told you at +first, my time is limited, and most precious,” interrupted +Madam Guiscardini.</p> + +<p>This circumlocution, however, gave her a ray of hope +that her first fear was groundless.</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne has told me the whole miserable +story of infamous deception.”</p> + +<p>“What story?”</p> + +<p>“Come, madam, your affectation of ignorance is useless, +and only a waste of time. You cannot deny that +while you hold Captain Desfrayne in legal bondage, you +are in reality the wife, by a prior marriage, of a man +who is in his service—one Leonardo Gilardoni.”</p> + +<p>The words “<i>you are</i>” were like the sound of a trumpet +to the unhappy woman. It was palpable that this man +did not yet know of Gilardoni’s death. The strain upon +her nerves had been so fearful that she gave way the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> +instant the relaxation came. She fell back on the chair +by which she stood, in violent hysterics.</p> + +<p>Amazed by such apparently singular behavior, Frank +Amberley stood by, partly alarmed, partly resolved not +to summon assistance if he could help it, for he was determined +to follow up the advantage he seemed to have +gained.</p> + +<p>Presently Lucia Guiscardini recovered her self-command. +She was glad none of the servants had been +called, though she would have welcomed the interruption +their presence would have caused.</p> + +<p>“You are doubtless surprised, sir, that I should be thus +overcome,” she said. “But I am very unwell. I was +on my way to the theater to tell the director I could not +appear, in consequence of sudden illness. My nerves are +overstrained. The subject of my marriage with the gentleman +you name is a distressing one to me, and one upon +which I cannot enter without painful emotion. Of the +other person about whom you spoke I know nothing. I +have never heard his name. The person I have the misfortune +to call husband has evidently told you a false +story. He has treated me with meanness and cruelty, but +I have been generous enough not to betray him. Why +does he send you to me?”</p> + +<p>“Because he thought you might listen to me where you +would only laugh in his face.”</p> + +<p>“What does he want of me? Let him come himself. +At this moment, I wish to see him. I have something +of paramount importance to tell him.”</p> + +<p>“You may treat me as his nearest friend and confidant +in this matter,” said the young man quietly. “What +you would say to him, you can say to me.”</p> + +<p>“What guarantee have I that you really come from +him?” demanded the signora.</p> + +<p>“Why should I raise a fiction of such a kind? What +good could I do myself or others by deceiving you?”</p> + +<p>“I neither know nor care. With him I will treat—with +no other.”</p> + +<p>“I will tell him so. But you had better hear what I +have to say on the part of Captain Desfrayne. Unfortunately,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> +we cannot prove your marriage with this Gilardoni. +Pray, madam, may I ask you one question?”</p> + +<p>“Speak.”</p> + +<p>“How is it that if, as you declare, you have never until +this day heard of Leonardo Gilardoni, his name causes +you to shudder violently?”</p> + +<p>“That is your fancy, sir. I have a slight attack of +ague, from which I shiver every now and then,” replied +Madam Guiscardini icily.</p> + +<p>“I do not believe you, Madam Guiscardini; but, as I +was saying, we cannot prove your first marriage, because +you have stolen the original register, and therefore——”</p> + +<p>The young woman started from her seat in a kind of +frenzy. A moment’s reflection, however, caused her to +sink back.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Amberley,” she said, very calmly, looking him +straight in the face with an expression of candor on her +own lovely visage, “every one has, I believe, a motive +for what they do. You say you come hither to-day in +the name of justice. What your object may further be +I do not know, as you have not as yet deigned to enlighten +me upon the precise nature of the demand you +apparently intend making upon me. I am convinced +that you, and it may be Captain Desfrayne, are deceived +by the concocted story of a man who desires to extort +money. I am supposed to be rich—I do not deny that +I have a great deal of money: I am therefore regarded +as a person to be preyed upon.</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne may be actuated by mean and cruel +objects in pursuing me, whom he has always treated in +so abominable a manner—his jealousy, his ill conduct, +obliged me unwillingly to leave him, for I desired to do +my duty as a wife, though I did not love him. You and +he have, you say, listened to a story told by some man +who asserts that—that—that I was—that I was married +to him. Plainly, why do you and Captain Desfrayne lend +yourselves to this infamous conspiracy? I do not intend +to tamely submit to robbery and insult, I can assure you. +Who is this man?”</p> + +<p>“He is Captain Desfrayne’s valet,” said Frank Amberley,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> +who had not attempted even once to interrupt the +long harangue with which he had been favored.</p> + +<p>“As I should have imagined,” said Madam Guiscardini, +withering scorn in her look and voice, a disdainful +smile on her lips. “This man, whom the world supposes +to be a gentleman, because he wears the uniform of an +officer in the service of the King of England, puts his +servant forward to insult and harass me—will, perhaps, +urge him to attack me for money. You come to ask +me—what?”</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley, who had remained standing from +the moment he entered the room until now, slightly +stooped, and, leaning forward, gazed intently into the +signora’s great, bold black eyes.</p> + +<p>For some instants she bore this searching look; then +her guilty eyes sank, while the color flowed back to her +pale face. Her hands clenched with suppressed fury, and +it was with difficulty she refrained from giving way to a +burst of rage. But she feared she might betray herself +by a word inadvertently spoken, and so remained silent.</p> + +<p>“You know, Madam Guiscardini, that what I have +asserted is perfectly true,” said the young man sternly. +“You, the wife of the Italian, Leonardo Gilardoni, trapped +my client into a marriage with you, believing yourself safe +because you had abstracted the evidence of your first marriage. +That evidence you did not dare to destroy—it still +exists.”</p> + +<p>The signora raised her eyes, and looked at him in affright.</p> + +<p>“What evidence?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“The written register in the book belonging to the +chapel in which your brother married you to Gilardoni.”</p> + +<p>“This is infamous. What do you hope by bullying +me in this manner?” exclaimed Madam Guiscardini.</p> + +<p>“You asked what I wanted—why I had come. I will +tell you: Before we seek for your brother, the priest—the +Padre Josef—I wish to know what you have done with +the registry-book?”</p> + +<p>His keenly practised eye caught a swift glance at hers, +gleaming like an instantaneous flash.</p> + +<p>With a strange misgiving that she was entirely betrayed—that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> +possibly Finette or some other servant had +watched her, unseen, and reported her secret doings—she +glanced for a second at a tall cabinet standing in a +corner of the room, near the pianoforte—a curious old +piece of eighteenth-century furniture, inlaid with paintings +on enamel.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley lowered his gaze, and appeared simply +to wait for an answer.</p> + +<p>“They have, then, sent you upon this ridiculous errand?” +said the signora. “It is a fool’s message, undertaken +by a simpleton.”</p> + +<p>“You say this story has been hatched up by designing +persons, with a view to extort money——”</p> + +<p>“Or by a pitiful coward who desires to harass and +torment me,” interrupted the young woman.</p> + +<p>“Aye. As you will. I asked you where this book is +concealed. I know you have not destroyed it. You had +doubtless your own motives for preserving such a +damning piece of evidence against yourself——”</p> + +<p>“I foresee that I shall be obliged to dismiss you from +the house, sir,” again interrupted Madam Guiscardini, +rising, concentrated fury blazing in her eyes. “You shall +not continue to annoy and insult me under my own +roof.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, madam. I do not wish to be other than +courteous in conducting this unpleasant affair. My own +interest in it is less than nothing. Did I consult my +own wishes, I should not lift a finger to coerce you. +Bear with me for a few moments longer. I said, I asked +you where this registry-book is hidden away. The question +was put merely to try you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, indeed! Monsieur grows more and more incomprehensible. +May I hope that this preposterous little +farce is nearly played out?”</p> + +<p>“Very nearly, madam. The terrible drama that has +been performed is also, I believe, almost at an end. I +<i>know</i> where that parchment-bound volume is.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! Monsieur is, then, a magician—a juggler? +This begins to be amusing. I should like to see this wonderful +tome. But I should hope that your friends and +clients and coconspirators have not been so daring as to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> +forge written evidence against me? That would be too +terrible, though I do not fear the worst they can do.”</p> + +<p>“The volume is near at hand,” pursued Frank, his eyes +never leaving her face for a second. As yet, every shot +had told with fatal effect.</p> + +<p>“Near at hand,” repeated the unhappy young woman +mechanically. She felt certain now that she had been betrayed, +and her suspicions fell on Finette, the French +maid, whom she had always hated and mistrusted.</p> + +<p>“Close at hand,” the lawyer said slowly, approaching +a step toward her. “It lies in this house.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that they have dared to place +their forged papers within my own dwelling?” demanded +Lucia Guiscardini, twisting and twining her fingers in +and out of one another.</p> + +<p>But she only spoke thus to delay the last fatal moment. +Not knowing that he was proceeding chiefly upon +guesswork, guided by that one swift gleam from her own +eyes, she made sure he had certain information.</p> + +<p>Finette had seen her open the cabinet, she thought, and +had seen her examine the suspicious-looking volume. +One hope remained: the girl might not know the secret +of the spring opening the inner compartment where the +book lay crouching amid laces and filmy handkerchiefs, +placed there to deceive any casual eye that might happen +to light upon the nook so cunningly devised.</p> + +<p>“You cannot deny that the book is in this house—that +you carry it about with you—that——”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“That it is in this very room.”</p> + +<p>“What more, sir? My patience, I warn you, is well-nigh +exhausted. Beware, sir—beware! My temper is +not of the most angelic mold, and I am very weary of +this folly.”</p> + +<p>“Madam Guiscardini, I ask you plainly, is not that +stolen book in yonder cabinet?” demanded the young +lawyer.</p> + +<p>It was his last throw, and he watched the result with +a keen and eager gaze.</p> + +<p>The signora made one step, with an affrighted look, as +if to take flight. Then she paused, and drew two or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> +three deep, sobbing breaths, like some wild animal +pressed very close by the hunters.</p> + +<p>“You look like a gentleman,” she cried, after making +some ineffectual efforts to speak; “and you behave like +a footpad. I know nothing of the book you rave about. +I have never heard of the man whose name you have +brought forward—this person in the employ of Captain +Desfrayne—I—I——”</p> + +<p>“You have not answered my question. Can you distinctly +say the book is <i>not</i> in that cabinet? You dare not +say so.”</p> + +<p>“If a denial will satisfy you, I can safely say no book +of any kind is within that cabinet,” said madam. “Our +interview is at an end, and I decline to receive you again +on any pretense whatever.”</p> + +<p>“You dare not open that cabinet, and let me see for +myself if what you say is true,” said Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>“You do not believe me, then?”</p> + +<p>“Candidly, I do not. I say the book is there.”</p> + +<p>“I—I refuse to gratify your curiosity——”</p> + +<p>“I thought you would. Now, the question is, what is +to be done? For I <i>know</i> the book is there, yet if I go to +obtain a search-warrant, you will destroy it before I am +fairly out of the house.”</p> + +<p>“You shall not have it to say that I shrank from letting +you see how preposterous your guess is,” said madam, +crossing the room to the cabinet.</p> + +<p>With a trembling finger, she pressed the spring that +unlocked the doors, and threw the cabinet open.</p> + +<p>A range of elaborately carved and gilded drawers appeared—a +set on the right and a set on the left.</p> + +<p>“You are at liberty to open these drawers, sir. As I +have suffered your audacity and presumption so far, I +may as well let you run on in your silly insolence to the +end.”</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley made no reply. He availed himself +of the permission to look into the drawers, which he +opened mechanically, pushing them back without really +seeing their contents.</p> + +<p>As he drew them out one after another, Madam Guiscardini +standing by with a fast-beating heart, he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> +trying to recall some dim, misty recollection of a cabinet +very similar to this, which he had seen at an old country +house in Provençal during the days of his childhood.</p> + +<p>He had a vague conception that about the middle of +the double row of drawers there was a spring which, +properly moved, revealed the existence of a secret hiding-place. +The spring was a duplex one, but how it +was touched he could not remember.</p> + +<p>It would be useless to leave the signora now, with the +idea of getting a proper warrant to search the cabinet, +for even if the secret were to be solved, or the cabinet +taken to pieces, she would burn the volume the moment +she found herself alone.</p> + +<p>Had he listened to the promptings of the Evil One, he +would have made excuses to himself, and left Lucia +Guiscardini to her own devices, with liberty to destroy +the evidence that would release Paul Desfrayne, but +with sublime self-denial, he resolved to press on to the +last.</p> + +<p>“Are you satisfied, sir?” asked Madam Guiscardini +sneeringly, as she noticed his perplexed look on closing +the last drawer.</p> + +<p>“Very nearly so,” he replied, moving his fingers nervously +over the fine filigree work and gilded foliage down +the sides of the cabinet.</p> + +<p>She dreaded that he would come upon the spring, and +saw plainly that he was in search of it. With a rough +hand she pushed him away, crying:</p> + +<p>“Enough, sir—enough! Allow me to close this cabinet, +for it contains numberless articles of value, which——”</p> + +<p>But as she pushed Frank Amberley away, his hands +touched the duplex spring, and what appeared to be two +drawers slowly folded back, sliding in thin layers, one +over another, while a fresh drawer was propelled forward +in place of the two which disappeared.</p> + +<p>A scream from Lucia Guiscardini told the lawyer that +he had discovered the object for which he sought. She +caught at the filigree handle—it remained immovable.</p> + +<p>“Leave the house, sir! I will call my servants to fling +you into the street!” screamed Madam Guiscardini, almost +beside herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p> + +<p>The book once found, it would not only ruin her hopes +with the prince, but would serve as terrible evidence +against her if charged with the murder of the man +Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>She had intended, Gilardoni agreeing to leave Europe, +to make a bargain with Paul Desfrayne, by confessing to +him that she had been already married at the time of her +union with him, on condition that he took an oath never +to betray her affairs to human ear, and never to seek her +in any way whatever.</p> + +<p>“If you do not quit my house,” she exclaimed, trying +to stand between Frank Amberley and the fatal drawer, +“I will send for a policeman, and give you into custody on +the charge of attempting to rifle these drawers.”</p> + +<p>The young man did not answer. There was no longer +any doubt that the precious volume lay within a few +inches of his hand. The confused memory of the secret +spring grew more hazy—he was almost in despair. It +seemed hard to be baffled at the moment when victory +smiled. Quick as thought, he ran across to the fireplace, +and caught up the bright steel poker lying in the +fender.</p> + +<p>Before Lucia Guiscardini really knew what he meant +to do, he had darted back, and with one adroit blow +smashed in the front of the drawer.</p> + +<p>The laces and handkerchiefs were folded about the +faded, ink-stained volume, but Frank dragged them out +swift as lightning, and scattered them at his feet. The +book then lay revealed, and he snatched at it.</p> + +<p>Had the poisoned ring still been on Lucia Guiscardini’s +finger, Frank Amberley’s life would not have been +worth a second’s purchase. As it was, she for a moment, +in her mad rage, measured the possibility of matching +her strength against his. But the next, the utter futility +of doing anything by force pressed upon her as she +glared upon the tall, slender, deep-chested, muscular +figure before her.</p> + +<p>With a low, moaning growl, like that of a tigress deprived +of her young, she glided half-blindly under the +silken archway, into the back room, and groped there +with an uncertain hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> + +<p>Frank took advantage of this moment to rush to the +window nearest. It was partially raised, and he flung +it wide open.</p> + +<p>The cab was still in waiting, directly opposite, on the +very spot where poor Gilardoni had stood scarce more +than a week since. The driver was sitting tranquilly on +the step of his vehicle, smoking a pipe. Frank threw the +book so adroitly that it fell at the man’s feet, and called +to him. The fellow caught up the dingy volume, and +was under the window in a second. Frank dropped a +sovereign in his hand, and said, in a clear, distinct tone:</p> + +<p>“Drive with that book to eighty-six, Alderman’s Lane, +and ask for Mr. Joyner—give it to him; then wait, and +if I am not back there in a couple of hours, bring him +here. Give that book to no other human being, and tell +no one else.”</p> + +<p>The man touched his hat, and ran to his cab.</p> + +<p>“This ’ere <i>is</i> the very most rummiest start <i>I</i> ever come +near,” he said to himself, as he rattled off. “I wonder +whatever’s up?”</p> + +<p>This scene passed in a moment. As the man was +mounting his box, Lucia entered, with the same creeping, +tottering, dragging step. In her hand was a tiny, silver-mounted +revolver. Her brain had almost given way, and +death, disgrace, misery seemed to point at her with gibbering, +skeleton fingers. Her one dominant thought was +that she must recover that fatal volume at all hazards. +She advanced toward Frank Amberley with the aspect +of a beautiful beast of prey.</p> + +<p>His hands were empty; she glared about to see what +he had done with his prize.</p> + +<p>“Where is it?” she hoarsely demanded, speaking as if +her throat were dry.</p> + +<p>“In a place of safety.”</p> + +<p>“Where is it, I say? What have you done with it?”</p> + +<p>She suddenly noticed the open window, and ran to it. +Then the truth flashed upon her.</p> + +<p>“You have ruined me!” she screamed, rushing toward +the young lawyer. “I have nothing but disgrace +and despair to look forward to. But if I suffer, it matters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> +not if it be for little or much, and I will have +vengeance!”</p> + +<p>The click of the lock of her pistol warned Frank of +his imminent danger. He sprang upon her, and tried +to disarm her. But her grip was tight, and her strength +more than he had counted on, and a short, desperate +struggle for life ensued.</p> + +<p>As he succeeded in snatching the pistol, it went off. +The report brought the servants rushing to the room. +They found their mistress on her knees, her hair floating +wildly about her, her face ashy white, her arms entwined +about her visitor, who stood with the pistol in his +hand, trying to disengage himself.</p> + +<p>“Seize him—seize him—he will kill me!” exclaimed +Madam Guiscardini. “He has robbed me, and would +murder me!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">DEFIANCE, NOT DEFENSE.</p> + + +<p>As Madam Guiscardini’s servants stood gaping in +amazement and affright at the scene before them, Frank +Amberley felt he had need to exercise all the coolness +and address left him. He had no desire, nor did he believe +that the mistress of the house in her more sober +moments could wish, that the police should be called in as +assistants.</p> + +<p>“Stand back!” he thundered, in authoritative tones +to the scared domestics, at the same time leveling the +pistol at them. “Heaven forbid that I should take the +life of any one here, but I will shoot the first who dares +to lay a finger on me!”</p> + +<p>The women squeaked, the men huddled back on one +another. None cared to risk the safety of limbs in the +service of a mistress for whom not one in the house cared +a doit.</p> + +<p>“Madam Guiscardini knows me,” the young lawyer +continued. “She knows where to find me, if I am wanted. +She has told you a falsehood. Let me go. Stand back, +all of you.”</p> + +<p>Her first burst of frenzied passion exhausted, Lucia +Guiscardini rapidly reviewed her position. A sullen +despair succeeded her fury. Certainly, it would not be +to her interest that the police should be called. This +desperate man would probably raise a counter-charge +against her, and there would be an investigation. As he +was a friend of Paul Desfrayne’s, he must inevitably +within a few hours learn the damning fact of the death +of the man Gilardoni.</p> + +<p>“They will set people to work,” she said to herself; +“and they will find out that I was with him yesterday. +Not the cleverest chemist on earth will be able to trace +the poison, but they may trap me, for all that.”</p> + +<p>This idea raced through her brain like lightning, so +that she seemed only to have time to unlink her arms<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> +from about Frank Amberley, place her hands to her forehead +as if in horror, and then fall back in an admirably +simulated swoon.</p> + +<p>“Stand aside, and let me pass,” again exclaimed Frank +Amberley, finding himself thus released.</p> + +<p>“Seize him! Don’t let him go!” faintly cried one or +two in the rear of the group in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Attend to your mistress, and leave my way free,” +cried Frank Amberley, still holding the deadly weapon +leveled menacingly. He was as ignorant as any one +there whether the second chamber was loaded or not, +but that signified little, as he had not the most remote intention +of hurting as much as a fly.</p> + +<p>With a quick, threatening step and determined air, he +strode toward the door.</p> + +<p>Some of the domestics fled precipitately up-stairs, others +crawled back by another door leading into the two +drawing-rooms. A whispered buzz ran round, but no +one raised a hand to stay the supposed assailant of the +mistress of the house.</p> + +<p>Pistol in hand, he walked between the two startled +groups, steadily, with perfect sang-froid. At the top of +the stairs he turned, and went down step by step, backward, +lest he should be surprised and overpowered. No +one stirred, however, though some of the women peered +over the balustrade. One of the housemaids ran and +raised Madam Guiscardini, who still remained in her +convenient swoon, while the other flew to get some water +from a side table.</p> + +<p>Arrived in the hall, Frank Amberley opened the door, +laid the pistol on the hall table, and went out.</p> + +<p>“Thank Heaven, so far!” he exclaimed, aloud, as he +found himself at liberty in the open air.</p> + +<p>He marveled how they had let him depart, and expected +to see them rushing after him, hallooing at the top +of their voices.</p> + +<p>A few rapid strides brought him to the corner. He had +it in his heart to take to his heels, but did not yield +to the temptation. His pulses were throbbing painfully, +and he knew that much was yet to come, but he contrived +to maintain his composure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> + +<p>With joy he saw a slowly crawling hansom coming +toward him. The driver hailed him, and he threw himself +into the vehicle with a sense of relief indescribable.</p> + +<p>“Alderman’s Lane, city,” he cried.</p> + +<p>It seemed scarcely credible that he should have succeeded +in so readily discovering the inestimable treasure +which had seemed utterly beyond reach.</p> + +<p>On reaching his destination, the young lawyer ran +lightly up the steps, and passed into the office. As it +happened, Mr. Willis Joyner was there, reading a note +which had just come for him. He looked up, and cried +out as if in surprise:</p> + +<p>“Hello, Amberley, is that you? What have you been +up to—practising a little mild burglary, eh?”</p> + +<p>“A cabman gave you an Italian register just now, did +he not?” anxiously inquired Frank.</p> + +<p>“He did. I put it in my safe.”</p> + +<p>Arrived in the chamber devoted to the use of the cheerful +and urbane Mr. Willis Joyner, Frank seized on the +volume the instant it was produced from the ponderous +iron safe. In a very short investigation—for he was an +accomplished master of the Italian language—he lighted +on the register which was to set Paul Desfrayne at liberty.</p> + +<p>“By the way,” Mr. Willis remarked, “a telegram arrived +for you directly after you left this morning. I had +forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“A telegram? Did an Italian call for me?”</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of.”</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley tore open the envelope of the telegram.</p> + +<p>“Great heavens!” he ejaculated, when he had read the +few terrible lines of the despatch.</p> + +<p>They ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“On my return last night, I found Leonardo Gilardoni +lying dead in my rooms. I fear he has met with foul +play. On my way, I believe I saw Madam G. walking +at a rapid pace toward the station. I pursued; but when +I reached the station, I found the last train had just +started for London. I cannot help associating the fact of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> +her presence here with the death of my poor servant. +Pray Heaven I may be in error in thinking so! Inquest +this afternoon.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Agitated by the events of the morning, Frank Amberley +was inexpressibly shocked by this fatal intelligence. +Dropping the paper from his trembling fingers, he sank +into a chair, as if unable to speak.</p> + +<p>Mr. Willis Joyner hastily poured out some wine, which +he offered to Frank, and stood by with the tender sympathy +of some gentle-hearted woman.</p> + +<p>Every one in the place loved Frank Amberley, and +none probably more than the gay, superficially selfish +Willis Joyner. He saw that some very unusual circumstances +had upset the general tranquillity of the young +man; and, though he could not form the most distant +guess as to the nature of the events which had occurred, +he felt grieved.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, Frank Amberley recovered his self-possession, +and then he gave Mr. Willis Joyner a brief, +rapid outline of the strange story, translating the register, +and showing him the telegram.</p> + +<p>The register was transferred to the iron safe in Frank +Amberley’s room, and he at once wrote a full account of +the finding of the prize, which he sent off to Paul Desfrayne +by telegraph. He did not allude to Paul’s mention +of encountering Lucia Guiscardini on the road to the station, +for he felt it would not be safe to do so, but briefly +said how shocked he had been by the intelligence that +poor Gilardoni was dead.</p> + +<p>Lucia Guiscardini made no sign. She had played a +desperate game, and the numbers had turned up against +her. Like most women who, innocent or guilty, find +themselves in difficulties, her chief idea was to seek safety +in flight. She dared not face Paul Desfrayne, for she +could expect no mercy at his hands. Bitterly did she +curse the folly, the cowardice, that had hindered her from +destroying the evidence of her marriage with Gilardoni. +Deeply now did she deplore having run the terrible risk +of killing her real husband.</p> + +<p>On the departure of Frank Amberley, she had sullenly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> +cleared the room of her attendants, and then sat down +to think—or to try if it were possible to collect her scattered +wits.</p> + +<p>Disgrace, death, were before her. But which way to +turn?—whither fly? The idea of destroying herself occurred +to her disordered brain, but then she thought <i>that</i> +resource would do when all else failed. Money she had +in plenty. Why should she give up this fair and alluring +earth, if safety could be purchased?</p> + +<p>“Even if they fix this marriage on me,” she reflected, +“and thus ruin my hopes of becoming a wealthy princess, +they may not be able to discover that I had aught to +do with the death of Gilardoni. How could they? Even +if they find out I was in the neighborhood, who is to +prove that, granting he did not die a natural death, he +did not kill himself? The excitement of a painful interview +might even bring on heart-disease. Twenty different +reasons might explain and reconcile the facts of my +being there with my perfect innocence of any complicity +in his tragical fate. Shall I defy them all, and remain, +or fly?”</p> + +<p>She paced to and fro distractedly.</p> + +<p>“I will remain here,” she at last defiantly decided. “If +they accuse me of stealing the book, I will boldly declare +that those three men have entered into a plot for +extorting money from me—that <i>he</i>, Gilardoni, was the +one who took it away, and that his lawyer pretended to +find it here. No one saw him take it, though he threw +it out of the window. I will swear he brought it hither, +and offered to sell it to me; and tried to bully me with a +threat of exposure as being the wife of that low-born +peasant. I will risk staying. Let them do their worst—I +think I can defy them. His highness will hasten to see +me to-night, when he finds I am not at the opera: no +doubt he will urge me, as he has so often done, to marry +him, and I shall yield to his entreaties. I will no longer +keep up my pretense of coyness and reluctance, but will +use my influence over him to hurry on the marriage. +Once his consort I am safe.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">FREE AT LAST.</p> + + +<p>Evil fate, which so often favors those who wish to follow +the path leading to destruction, smiled on Lucia +Guiscardini now as of yore.</p> + +<p>The inquest was held on her ill-fated husband about +the hour when Frank Amberley discovered the record of +that most miserable union that had caused his death. The +inquiry was necessarily adjourned, however, to enable +the medical men to examine the body more particularly.</p> + +<p>The emotion of Paul Desfrayne on reading the telegraphic +account sent by the friend who had so heroically +sacrificed his own feelings to a stern sense of duty may be +in same measure imagined. To his overtaxed brain, the +events of these last few days began to assume the aspect +of a dream.</p> + +<p>Free! Quit of the consequences of those few months +of infatuated folly!</p> + +<p>Oh! it could hardly be. No. Presently he must +wake, and find it but a tantalizing vision of the night, as +he had awakened many times before, thinking he had regained +or had never lost his liberty.</p> + +<p>Only too well he knew he had never loved that remorseless +woman, who would have sacrificed him for her +own worldly gain, who had slain his happiness under the +influence of her mistaken conception of his wealth and +position.</p> + +<p>He wrote back a most earnest letter to Frank Amberley. +But little did he imagine how vast was the debt of +gratitude due to that noble soul. The moment the verdict +was pronounced as to the cause of Leonardo Gilardoni’s +death, he would hurry to London, he told the +young lawyer. At present it would be impossible for him +to be absent. He did not repeat the suspicions he had +touched on in the telegram forwarded by him in the +morning, for that would be but to repeat an accusation +he could not in any way sustain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p> + +<p>The next morning he set about making cautious inquiries, +in order to find out, if possible, whether any +human being had seen the figure that had passed him like +an apparition on the way to the station. But vainly.</p> + +<p>No one had seen this woman. The porter at the railway-station +whom Captain Desfrayne had missed, remembered +a woman coming hastily in to catch the last train; +but she, he declared, had worn a pale-green dress, a +black lace shawl, and had a snow-white Shetland fall over +her bonnet, concealing her face effectually as well. In +effect, Lucia Guiscardini had made a rapid change in +her toilet almost as she entered the station, by looping +up her black skirt, changing her black cloak for a lace +shawl folded up in the small black leather bag she carried, +and changing her black fall for a white one. The +black cloak, bought expressly for this expedition, she +had hurriedly folded up, and, darting for a moment into +the ladies’ room, dropped it on the couch, making it look +as if some one had forgotten it.</p> + +<p>The old woman at whose cottage Madam Guiscardini +had appointed to meet Leonardo Gilardoni was away, +gone to see a granddaughter, who lay dying some ten +miles off. Thus Paul Desfrayne did not find her, nor +did he know of her existence. The boy had departed +with her.</p> + +<p>No one could throw the slightest ray of light on the +history of those hours of apparent solitude which had +been spent by the unhappy valet from the departure until +the return of his master on that last day of his life. No +one had seen him leave the barracks during any part of +the day—none had seen him return.</p> + +<p>It had happened that the boy charged with Madam +Guiscardini’s message had not needed to ask for him, because +Gilardoni was walking about the yard, and to him +the lad had first spoken.</p> + +<p>The analyzing doctors found nothing to justify any +suspicion of the existence of poison. Such signs as were +apparent resembled those of apoplexy so closely that the +most accurate judges might easily have been deceived. +They gave in a certificate to the effect that the cause of +death was apoplexy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> + +<p>It would have been worse than useless to accuse Lucia +Guiscardini. Paul Desfrayne began to persuade himself +that he must have been deluded by his own excited imagination +when he fancied he saw her on that lonely, darksome +road.</p> + +<p>At the end of a few days he was able to run up to +London. His first visit was to Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p>The lawyer showed him the ink-stained, vellum-covered +book containing the brief register that would restore +some light and happiness to Paul Desfrayne’s life. Paul’s +heart was overflowing with gratitude to the friend who +had regained for him the liberty that seemed gone forever.</p> + +<p>Fortune was resolved on favoring him now, however. +On leaving Alderman’s Lane, he went to the club of +which he was a member.</p> + +<p>Immersed in thought, the young man was walking at +a rapid pace, when a faint, musical exclamation, and what +sounded much like his own name, caused him to awake +from his abstraction, and look up.</p> + +<p>His eyes met those of Lois Turquand, fixed upon him +with a strange, indefinable expression that made his heart +beat, while a vivid blush overspread that beautiful face +upon which he had so often meditated, to the risk of his +own peace, since he had first beheld it.</p> + +<p>Miss Turquand was sitting in an open carriage with +Blanche Dormer in front of a large drapery establishment. +They were waiting for Lady Quaintree, who had +alighted with the view of matching some silk.</p> + +<p>It had been Miss Dormer who cried out Captain Desfrayne’s +name. The girls had hoped he might not have +heard; but his looks showed that he had done so. He +lifted his hat, and came to the side of the carriage to +speak to the young ladies.</p> + +<p>The gloomy, care-worn expression had already begun +to melt from his face, and, in a manner, he was no longer +the self-restrained, cold personage he had been since the +days his misfortune had gathered upon him.</p> + +<p>Before she could weigh the propriety of doing so, Lois +had allowed her fingers to glide into his: and it was not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> +until she felt a tender pressure, scarcely meant by Paul, +that she thought she should have withheld her hand.</p> + +<p>“He is cruel and deceitful,” she said to herself, turning +away her head to avoid the glance which at once thrilled +and distressed her.</p> + +<p>Some ordinary civilities and usual courtesies passed. +A flower-girl came to the opposite side of the carriage, +and addressed Miss Dormer. Paul took advantage of +this passing distraction to say rapidly to Lois, in a lower +tone than he had used before:</p> + +<p>“Miss Turquand, I began a story the night I saw you +in the country. If I ever have the privilege of completing +it, you will find that now it will have a very different +ending.”</p> + +<p>At this instant, Lady Quaintree issued from the shop, +followed by a shopman laden with parcels. Her ladyship +had been unable to resist some tempting novelties, and +some wonderful bargains from a bankrupt’s stock.</p> + +<p>“Captain Desfrayne!” she said. “I did not know you +were in town.”</p> + +<p>“I have only run up for a few hours on urgent business, +madam,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“We go to Eastbourne this day week,” her ladyship +continued. “My husband has been very unwell, and +the physicians have ordered change of air.”</p> + +<p>She added that they would be happy to see Captain +Desfrayne, if he chose to call at Lowndes Square before +he left town again. Some more civilities, and the carriage +drove away.</p> + +<p>One long look passed between Paul and Lois—a look +of mingled feeling on his side; of inquiry, of surprise, +of displeasure on hers—one of those glances that serve +to link two souls together, be it for good, be it for evil.</p> + +<p>It left the young girl trembling, perplexed, agitated, +more than any words could have done.</p> + +<p>It told Paul Desfrayne that he had never loved till +now, despite that one terrible caprice of fancy and flattered +vanity.</p> + +<p>But the hopes, the desires, the incipient love he had not +dared to cherish the last time he had seen this angelic +creature, this beautiful, pure English girl, who seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> +to have glided across his path to lead him from darkness +and misery into light and happiness—these feelings he +might now yield to without sin.</p> + +<p>The air seemed full of golden haze, and even the somber +figure of Lucia Guiscardini could scarce dim the +brightness of the day-dream that surrounded him.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LUCIA’S TEARS.</p> + + +<p>Lucia Guiscardini had started by the night mail for +Paris.</p> + +<p>The next morning was the one fixed for her marriage, +arranged to take place as quietly as possible at the Russian +embassy.</p> + +<p>Fatigued, nay, utterly exhausted, she slept heavily for +some hours after her arrival at her apartments in the +Rue Saint Honoré.</p> + +<p>When Finette came to arouse her, according to orders, +she was lying like one in a stupor, and it was with the +greatest difficulty the girl could wake her.</p> + +<p>“It is almost a pity not to let her sleep as long as she +may,” thought the maid, as she stood by her, looking +down at the flushed face and uneasy attitude of her slumbering +mistress.</p> + +<p>Finette had no great reason to care much for the overbearing, +capricious prima donna, but she could perceive +that she was struggling against impending illness, and +she felt sorry she should not be at her best on her +wedding-day.</p> + +<p>“Madam!” said Finette. “Awake! It is nearly eight +o’clock, and your bath is ready.”</p> + +<p>A shuddering sigh, and then Lucia relapsed into her +lethargic state again, though she was evidently suffering +from the visitation of some painful dream.</p> + +<p>“Madam!” again urged Finette. “It is your wedding-day. +Rouse, then. It is a glorious day—the sunshine +bright and golden, scarce a cloud in the blue sky.”</p> + +<p>She pressed the soft, rounded shoulder of her mistress, +and shook her with a firm yet gentle hand. For madam +had given imperative orders the preceding night that she +must be awakened immediately after eight o’clock, if not +before. The entire responsibility of this lay with Finette, +for she had no other attendant with her.</p> + +<p>A stifled scream broke from the half-parched lips of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> +the sleeper, and she sprang up, throwing her hands forward, +as if to defend herself.</p> + +<p>“No—no—no!” she shrieked. “No! Ah-h! You +shall not take me. I have not done it. Take your hands +off——”</p> + +<p>“Madam, it is I—Finette. Do not be alarmed. Pray +calm yourself. The people in the house will be frightened. +You have been dreaming. It is your wedding-day.”</p> + +<p>The smooth, reassuring tones brought back the Italian’s +scattered senses, and the light of reason to her brilliant, +distended eyes. She turned her glance on the +young girl standing by, and sank back, shuddering, gasping +for breath, almost on the verge of hysterics.</p> + +<p>“I believe—I—was dreaming. Oh, Heaven! what a +horrid, awful dream!” She covered her face with her +hands, with a sobbing breath. “I am scarcely awake +now. I feel so—so tired.”</p> + +<p>“Your journey has fatigued you, madam. Why, you +have had only a few hours’ rest, though you slept a little +in the train. Come, I suppose madam must make an +exertion, and rise. I will order the coffee.”</p> + +<p>“Why do you wish me to get up? Oh! my head aches +so fearfully—at the back, Finette.”</p> + +<p>“Madam forgets it is her wedding-day. I am sorry +madam’s head is so bad,” said Finette.</p> + +<p>“<i>Bon Dieu!</i> my wedding-day!” cried Lucia, again +starting up. “I had forgotten. Give me my wrapper.”</p> + +<p>Finette gave her the richly embroidered silken wrapper, +and then went out to give directions about madam’s +coffee.</p> + +<p>Lucia threw on her wrapper, and got out of bed. A +few tottering steps, and she fell back, flinging her arms +on the coverlet in blank despair.</p> + +<p>“I believe I am going to be ill,” she cried, aloud. +“But I must not be ill until I have been made a princess. +Oh! this sickening pain in my head. But I must +not give way at the last, after daring so much. What +folly! It is simply fatigue. I ought not to have stayed +there till the last moment, and then taken such a hurried +flight.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span></p> + +<p>She lay in a half-stupefied state, however, making no +effort to raise herself, as if she felt it would be useless. +Then hot, blinding tears of rage and despair began to +rain over her arms, on which she rested.</p> + +<p>So absorbed was the unhappy creature by her terrors +and doubts, her feeling of physical exhaustion, her dread +lest her forces should fail her at the last, that she did +not notice the return of Finette.</p> + +<p>The girl stood on the snow-white, fleecy rug just inside +the door, in an attitude and with an expression which +showed that she was utterly confounded by the scene +before her.</p> + +<p>Madam had been in all varieties of humors—in violent, +stormy frenzies of rage, sullen, depressed, ill-humored, +exhausted, wearied—but never before like this.</p> + +<p>Finette’s idea was natural, and yet, hitherto, undreamed +of, for her lady had seemed, if not the least in love with +her handsome prince, certainly pleased and eager to welcome +him.</p> + +<p>“She does not like him,” thought the waiting-maid, +“and is only going to marry him for his money and his +title; perhaps she likes somebody else. But it will never +do for her to go on in this way.”</p> + +<p>The girl was pleased at the prospective vision of being +confidential maid to a rich princess—the position would +offer so many advantages in addition to the increase of +social dignity. It ill-suited her that the marriage should +be put off, and she was superstitious enough to regard +as most unlucky a postponement of the wedding-day.</p> + +<p>It was not until she was close beside her that Lucia +gave any sign of being aroused.</p> + +<p>“Come, madam’s nerves are giving way,” said Finette +smilingly. “Time is flying, and madam knows how long +it takes to dress. Sit in this great easy chair, and steady +yourself, while I brush out your hair. Come, they say +people always fall into a terrible way just before they +get married, though when the dreadful words have been +spoken by the clergyman, they begin to laugh at themselves +for being so silly. It is quite proper to cry on one’s +wedding-day, madam.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p> + +<p>She lent the support of her youthful arm to Lucia, who +rose mechanically, as if in a dream, and placed her before +the dressing-table, a fairy picture of lace, silver, carved +ivory, and gold.</p> + +<p>Then she proceeded to array the bride, who exerted +herself when desired to do so, but otherwise sat or stood +like a lovely inanimate statue or waxen figure.</p> + +<p>Although it was to be a strictly private marriage, the +only attendant on herself being Finette, Lucia had prepared +a toilet of the most recherché quality. A pure, +white silk, covered with rare and costly laces, a hat of +elfin workmanship, over which was thrown a square of +tulle, frilled and embroidered petticoats, proclaimed her +bridal state. With a great yearning, she had desired +white satin and a lace veil, and to wear some of her diamonds, +but was obliged to stifle the wish.</p> + +<p>When she was dressed, Finette left her sitting by the +open window, the balcony of which was heaped with exquisite +flowers.</p> + +<p>The girl—her only bridesmaid—went to attire herself +in her own room, which adjoined that of her mistress.</p> + +<p>“What has happened to me?” Lucia asked herself in +affright. “What means this weakness, this sense of a +sudden blank? Shall I be able to go through my morning’s +work? What will happen next? Shall I live to enjoy +my honors, my wealth, my prince’s adoration? Nay, +I must strive against this pain and depression and fear.”</p> + +<p>Rising, she began to walk to and fro, with uncertain, +wavering steps, swaying from side to side unconsciously.</p> + +<p>Presently Finette returned, arrayed in a really charming +manner in a cloud of pretty, fresh, embroidered muslin. +In her hand was a large bouquet of the most choice +blossoms, fit for the bride of a king to carry.</p> + +<p>“See, madam,” she exclaimed gaily; “here are some +flowers, this moment sent. There was no name left, but +you will guess from whom they have come.”</p> + +<p>Lucia took the flowers, and put the bouquet up to her +pale face, without making any remark.</p> + +<p>“See how the sun shines—a happy omen!” continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> +the girl lightly, as she gathered up her mistress’ handkerchief, +gloves, and little ivory fan. “The carriage +waits—we shall be in good time.”</p> + +<p>Lucia recovered her strength, and in a certain degree +her spirits. They descended to the carriage, and drove to +the Russian embassy.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LUCIA GUISCARDINI’S MADNESS.</p> + + +<p>The prince was waiting impatiently the arrival of +Lucia at the Russian embassy. A tall, graceful man, +some fifteen years older than his bride, with a somber +yet gentle face, jet-black eyes and beard, and dressed to +perfection.</p> + +<p>A friend on whom he could rely was his only companion. +He did not at present wish his relatives or any one +of his large circle of friends and acquaintances to know +anything about this union.</p> + +<p>The ceremony was gone through, the necessary signatures +given, and Lucia Gilardoni, widow of the man +scarce above the rank of peasant, child of parents hardly +equal to petty farmers, was the lawful wife of this proud +Russian noble on whose arm she leaned.</p> + +<p>Exultant, yet weighed down by an inexplicable dread +of approaching evil, the newly made princess swept down +the aisle of the little chapel, on her way to his carriage. +Suddenly she clutched the prince’s arm, and drew back, +as if horror-stricken. With her disengaged hand she +pointed to a dim corner, her great black eyes widely +opened, the pupils distended.</p> + +<p>The prince looked to see what caused her overwhelming +terror. Nothing was visible, as far as he could +descry.</p> + +<p>“What is it, my dearest love?” he tenderly asked, +stooping to gaze into her pallid face.</p> + +<p>“There—<i>there</i>!” she whispered. “He is there. They +said he was dead. They pretended I killed him. But he +is there. He is not dead—or is it his spirit?”</p> + +<p>“Of whom do you speak, my own dear one?” asked the +prince.</p> + +<p>“My husband—Gilardoni. He stands there, and gazes +at me with eyes of fire. Is he dead or living?”</p> + +<p>She continued to point with her finger, her arm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> +stretched out, her neck craned, her eyes full of a horror +too great for words.</p> + +<p>“There is no one here but ourselves,” said the prince, +a vivid terror seizing on his heart with a viselike grip.</p> + +<p>The others regarded her with consternation, but could +not venture to obtrude themselves on her notice—the +prince’s friend, and the girl Finette.</p> + +<p>A deathly silence succeeded. The bride dropped her +pointing finger, while retaining her clutch on her newly +wedded husband’s arm, but she continued to gaze at the +phantom conjured up by her disordered fancy.</p> + +<p>“He is gone,” she whispered, with a great, gulping +sigh. “Did you not see? He melted away into the shadows. +Take me away before he returns.”</p> + +<p>The prince hurried her to the door, then down the +steps, and into his carriage. His friend placed the girl +Finette in her mistress’ carriage and directed the coachman +to take her as quickly as his horses would go to the +Hotel Fleury, in the Rue de Richelieu, where the newly +married couple were to sojourn in a magnificent suite of +apartments for a couple of days previous to starting for +Switzerland.</p> + +<p>With a fear too deep for expression the prince watched +his lovely idol as she lay trembling within his encircling +arm. Her face was of a ghastly pallor, and her eyes were +fixed with an absolutely vacant look on the opposite side +of the carriage, but it was difficult to conjecture whether +she was consciously thinking or not.</p> + +<p>Those betraying words of hers: “They said he was +dead—they pretended I had killed him—my husband—Gilardoni!” +echoed in the brain of the prince like a beating +pulse. Had she, then, committed some fearful crime, +and had her reason given way under the sting of conscience?</p> + +<p>But no—no, a thousand times no! It was impossible. +With a love, a loyalty wasted on its object, he refused to +believe anything ill of his beloved one.</p> + +<p>“My own—my wife!” he murmured fondly.</p> + +<p>Lucia shivered, but made no response. They drove +fast, and were soon at the gates of the stately pile where +the bride was to be lodged suitably to her rank.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> + +<p>The prince lifted her from the carriage, and drawing +her hand once more within his arm, led her up to the +wide, richly carpeted staircase to the suite on the first +floor.</p> + +<p>Finette had preceded her mistress by five or ten minutes, +and was waiting with the other servants near the +entrance. The newly married pair walked through the +bowing files of lackeys, and passed into the principal sitting-room—a +long, lofty salon, glowing with softly modulated +colors, rare china, mirrored panels, rich draperies, +and flowers.</p> + +<p>The prince closed the door, and sat down on a stool +by the trembling Lucia.</p> + +<p>“My dear love,” he said, with the deepest anxiety, yet +resolved on giving her the opportunity of granting some +explanation, “what happened to you in the chapel just +now?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” she vacantly replied. “What?—how?—I +do not recollect. I felt very ill.”</p> + +<p>“You are not well now.”</p> + +<p>“No; I am not.”</p> + +<p>“You seem totally different from your usual self.”</p> + +<p>“I feel so—I feel like—I cannot say how I feel—my +brain is on fire.”</p> + +<p>“What did you mean by——”</p> + +<p>“By what?” she sharply demanded, turning on him +the full gleam of her resplendent eyes, to which the light +of reason for a moment returned.</p> + +<p>“In the chapel you fancied you saw some one.”</p> + +<p>“I fancied? How strange! I forget,” Lucia replied, +laughing gaily. “Whom did I fancy I beheld?”</p> + +<p>“You said some very singular words, my dear love.”</p> + +<p>“What did I say?”</p> + +<p>But before he could speak a word in reply, her glance +became again wild and uncertain. She shuddered as if +seized with ague, and then leaned forward, as if she again +saw the phantom conjured up by her disordered brain in +the chapel.</p> + +<p>“He is here!” she whispered, half to herself. “He has +followed to claim me. I can never escape him now. +There is blood upon his wrist, where——It is useless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> +to struggle. I must give way to my destiny. But I will +never go with you,” she exclaimed, raising her voice. +“Never—never!”</p> + +<p>The prince caught her hand, which she snatched away, +as if terrified, looking at him with a vacant eye, that evidently +did not recognize him.</p> + +<p>“You shall not take me,” she fiercely cried. “I did +not do it—I swear I did not! I was not there.”</p> + +<p>The prince rose, and, approaching a table heaped with +elegant and costly trifles, rang a hand-bell sharply.</p> + +<p>Almost instantly the violet velvet portière of the chief +entrance was raised, and an obsequious lackey stood waiting +his lord’s commands.</p> + +<p>“Send Mademoiselle Finette here,” was the brief order.</p> + +<p>In a moment the girl had replaced her fellow servant. +A brief, searching glance showed her that something was +wrong; but <i>what</i> she could scarcely tell.</p> + +<p>“Come here,” said the prince.</p> + +<p>He placed her in front of his bride, who was now leaning +her head on her hand, resting against the stool, apparently +lost to all around her.</p> + +<p>“Madam!” exclaimed the waiting-maid, in consternation +at her vacant yet wild aspect.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with her?” demanded the prince. +“Has she ever been like this before?”</p> + +<p>“No, monseigneur—no, no, never. Something has +happened,” replied the trembling maid.</p> + +<p>“Something terrible—something awful,” cried the unhappy +prince, in an agony of despairing love and fear. +“Do you know if anything has occurred to overthrow her +reason?”</p> + +<p>“I know nothing, monseigneur. Madam has always +been so quiet in her life, although perhaps a little passionate +in her ways, sometimes. Madam—madam, speak to +me—to your poor Finette,” pleaded the girl, taking the +passive hand that lay in her mistress’ lap.</p> + +<p>A dumb spirit seemed to have seized upon the miserable +victim of her own sins and crimes. With a swift +glance at the maid, she averted her head coldly, and resumed +her gaze into empty space.</p> + +<p>Some crude idea had got into her dazed brain that she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> +would betray herself if she spoke, and she had resolved +on keeping utterly silent. The prince she had apparently +forgotten.</p> + +<p>“Remain with her,” said he. “I shall return presently.”</p> + +<p>He went to his own private sitting-room, and, going +to a desk, wrote a few lines to the most eminent doctor +among those who devoted their sole attention to the study +of lunacy. Then he rang for his valet—an elderly, severely +respectable-looking man, with a tranquil manner.</p> + +<p>“Do you know where to find this medical man?” the +prince asked, showing him the envelope.</p> + +<p>“I believe, monseigneur, he lives in the Rue de Rivoli—but +I can easily find out,” answered the valet.</p> + +<p>“Do so. Take the brougham, and do not return without +him. It is a matter of life and death for me. Do not +lose a moment—but wait for him if he should be absent.”</p> + +<p>The doctor was not absent. He returned with the confidential +servant within a quarter of an hour, and presented +himself in the sitting-room, which the prince had +not quitted, for he dared not go back to the presence of +his distraught bride.</p> + +<p>Accustomed as the medical man was to every variety +of painful case of lunacy, his face betrayed some signs +of surprise and compassion as he listened to the story of +the unhappy Lucia’s loss of reason, but he expressed no +opinion, simply bowing as he rose to obey the entreaty of +the bridegroom that he would see the princess.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, if I stay here until you come back to me,” +said the prince, his ashy face showing only too plainly +the suffering at his heart. “I dare not accompany you. +I love my wife ardently, passionately—and——”</p> + +<p>“Remain here,” gently replied the medical man. “I +shall not keep you long in suspense.”</p> + +<p>The prince flung himself face downward on a lounge +as his valet conducted the doctor from the room. He began +to fear that this awful shock would end in depriving +him of reason. Throbbing pulses surged like waves in +his ears, and his senses threatened to desert him.</p> + +<p>The slow-dragging minutes went on, on, on, steadily,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> +monotonously, and at length the prince felt he could not +remain thus supinely waiting any longer. In reality, half +an hour had elapsed from the moment he was left alone, +but it seemed like many hours.</p> + +<p>Rising, he was about to go to the salon, but as he raised +himself, the portière was drawn aside, and the physician +stood again before him.</p> + +<p>The sad, grave face told its own tale, but the prince +could not be satisfied.</p> + +<p>“Doctor, how have you found her? What news do +you bring me?” he cried desperately.</p> + +<p>“The worst. Reason has utterly fled, never, I fear, to +return. There has been some fearful pressure on the +brain and nervous system. It would be as well to have a +consultation, however, for sometimes these difficult cases +are deceptive.”</p> + +<p>But his judgment was only too firmly established on +further inquiry. Lucia adhered to her crazed resolve not +to utter a word, though her frequent terror and fixed +look showed that she still believed herself closely watched +by the figure she imagined she had seen in the chapel +at the Russian embassy.</p> + +<p>But she had caused a terrible suspicion of the truth to +dawn in the mind of the last victim of her ruthless ambition. +The prince reflected upon the subject until he arrived +at a tolerably correct surmise of the facts of the +case.</p> + +<p>A man of prompt resolve and speedy action, he at once +settled in his mind the course he should pursue, when he +had recovered from the stunning effects of his first horror. +For a few days Lucia was to remain in her own +apartments while the further inquiry was conducted, +then he would take her to Switzerland, and there place +her in a pretty, secluded villa among the mountains, +guarded and waited upon by a trustworthy band of servants, +under the immediate direction of Finette, who +agreed to accompany her ill-fated mistress.</p> + +<p>This was done. From time to time, the prince went to +see her; but she displayed the most utter indifference toward +him, and never once gave the slightest sign of recognition.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span></p> + +<p>A strange fancy seized her after a while—that this +Swiss retreat was the villa and garden at Florence, where +she had pursued her studies for the stage, and where she +had lived until she made her escape, through the intervention +of Paul Desfrayne, to Paris.</p> + +<p>But she always remained totally dumb. Not the most +strenuous effort could induce her to break that terrible +silence. Even in singing, which she practised with the +assiduity of her early student-days, she would use no +words, only the vowels employed in the chromatic and +diatonic scales. Her voice was infinitely richer, fuller, +sweeter than it had ever been, and frequently the prince +would enjoy a melancholy pleasure in listening beneath +the window to the dulcet waves of birdlike melody.</p> + +<p>She loved to deck herself with the splendor of a queen; +and in this fancy the prince freely indulged her, though +he never employed the slightest portion of her large fortune +for this object. The horror which might have +crushed his love when he was forced to believe that she +might have committed the crime of which she had accused +herself was tempered by the most profound pity +for her distraught state.</p> + +<p>Happily, no other love came to make the life of this +betrayed man a burden to him, therefore the chains with +which he had been so treacherously bound did not gall as +they might have done.</p> + +<p>A few were trusted with the terrible secret of Lucia’s +loss of reason—the director of the London opera-house, +and one or two others.</p> + +<p>When the emissaries of justice came to seek for her—to +accuse her of her sacrilegious theft, they found her +forever beyond the reach of earthly law.</p> + +<p>The Supreme Judge had seen fit to allot her a punishment +before which her accusers drew back in solemn awe +and dread.</p> + +<p>Thus ended the race upon which the lovely and gifted +Lucia Guiscardini had entered with such a high heart +and iron nerve.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE SOUND OF WEDDING-BELLS.</p> + + +<p>It was a bright day at the seashore, and the beach was +crowded.</p> + +<p>Lord and Lady Quaintree were at Eastbourne, with +the Honorable Gerald and “the two girls,” as Lois and +Blanche were affectionately designated. Frank Amberley +had come to spend his few weeks of holiday here.</p> + +<p>Paul, by the advice of his colonel, had seen the Italian +consul in London. The consul had looked grave, +listened to his story, received the register, and said:</p> + +<p>“The matter shall have every attention, and in all probability +we shall communicate with you shortly respecting +it.”</p> + +<p>Some months, after all, elapsed before Captain Desfrayne +received any communication, and then he learned +the painful facts of the unhappy Lucia’s third marriage +and the loss of her reason.</p> + +<p>He made every effort to find her on settling the affair +at the Italian consulate—but vainly, and was obliged to +relinquish the attempt. Then he repaired to Eastbourne. +The agitation of these last few weeks had told terribly +on his health, although he was rejoicing with unspeakable +joy over his recovered liberty.</p> + +<p>He knew that the Quaintrees had chosen the place; indeed, +that had been the attraction for him. And Frank +Amberley had seen him during his visit to London, and +mentioned his intention of coming.</p> + +<p>Captain Desfrayne set off to pay a visit of ceremony to +Lady Quaintree.</p> + +<p>On the way, however, the scene was so bright, so alluring, +so unlike what he had been condemned to for +some time, that he paused to contemplate it.</p> + +<p>How many minutes he lingered he did not know, but +he was aroused from a bitter-sweet day-dream by hearing +some one address him by name. It was Frank Amberley.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> + +<p>The young lawyer had left a party seated on the beach +to come and intercept Paul; but returned to them, followed +by his treasure-trove.</p> + +<p>Paul’s heart beat violently, for he perceived Lois +Turquand, dazzlingly beautiful as a sea-nymph. He +knew not what he said, either to the ladies or to Lord +Quaintree and his son, and sat down mechanically when +Blanche moved a little to make room for him on the +beach.</p> + +<p>The remarks, the replies, the notes, and queries, were +all commonplace enough, so Paul could keep up a show +of attention without betraying his abstracted state of +mind.</p> + +<p>“Charming, indeed,” he had just returned, to an observation +of Lady Quaintree’s—Lois was absolutely silent.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley, too loyal to gain any advantage by +treachery, would have explained to Lois that the sad +story he told her had ended less tragically than it threatened +to do; but he had not yet found any opportunity of +speaking to Miss Turquand undisturbed. He had, in +fact, preceded Captain Desfrayne by only a couple of +days.</p> + +<p>Gerald had continued to devote himself to Blanche, in +spite of his mother’s evidences of displeasure. Lady +Quaintree had begun to despair of being able to secure +Lois as a daughter-in-law. Blanche was amused by the +little flirtation into which Gerald had drawn her, but she +cared not a straw for him; while the grave, handsome +face, the soft, musical accents of Frank Amberley began +to dangerously haunt her dreams.</p> + +<p>The little party rose, and Paul Desfrayne accompanied +them a short way. For part of the time he found himself +lingering behind the others, with Miss Turquand.</p> + +<p>An almost irrepressible desire to confide in her rose +in his heart; but he crushed the wish, for this was neither +the time nor place. A few impetuous words, however, +gave her an inkling of the change that had come to him, +and she glanced up at him. A look of passionate admiration—of +dawning love—made her blush deeply and avert +her head, and hurry a few steps to rejoin the others. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> +when they were about to part, she gave him her hand +with a little happy smile of confidence.</p> + +<p>The tranquil, sunlit days glided by, and lengthened +into weeks.</p> + +<p>Frank Amberley, fully conscious of the risk to his +peace involved by lingering, could not tear himself away. +But by degrees he discovered the charm, the beauty, the +sweetness of the innocent Blanche’s character, so was in +a fair way of being consoled. Happily for himself, he +was not one of those who love but once and forever.</p> + +<p>Paul Desfrayne did not tell his painful story all at +once, and Lois spared him much of the distress involved +in the recital, but by degrees she became aware of all the +sad details; and she gave him all the pity and sympathy +of her fresh young heart.</p> + +<p>The Honorable Gerald found some one more appreciative +and more warmly disposed in his favor than the +pretty Blanche, and transferred all the devotion he had +to offer to the more accessible divinity.</p> + +<p>Paul was left pretty much to his own devices in winning +the prize held out to him so strangely.</p> + +<p>It was not a difficult task. Never did wooing prosper +more hopefully.</p> + +<p>The last few days of this brief, delicious holiday were +fast winging to the dim past.</p> + +<p>Nay, the last evening had come—a soft, cloudless, +moonlit night, when the very air seemed to breathe of +love.</p> + +<p>Gerald was away; Blanche and Lady Quaintree were +taking a farewell turn on the sands; Lord Quaintree was +asleep. Lois had stayed at home, for she had a tolerably +clear idea that Paul would come, and he had looked +a hope that he might find her alone.</p> + +<p>The young girl was sitting in the long, flower-wreathed +balcony, the mild, silvery moonbeams falling over her +like a radiance, making her look some lovely ethereal +spirit.</p> + +<p>Paul did come, as she anticipated. The dim, mysterious +light did not betray the glowing blush upon her beautiful +face, the sparkling, happy light in her eyes. She did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> +not hear his step upon the carpet, nor see him, but some +electrical sympathy told her he was approaching.</p> + +<p>With a soft, welcoming, trustful smile, she held out her +hand, which he took, but omitted to release. Then he sat +down close to her, yet slightly behind her chair, as if even +now he scarcely dared to believe that the promise of the +future could be true.</p> + +<p>A murmuring conversation, too low for ears less acute +than those attuned by love to hear, and then Paul gently +folded Lois in his arms. Then, after a pause, he slipped +a diamond ring of betrothal upon her finger, and she +was his promised wife.</p> + +<p>Vere Gardiner’s dying wishes had come to a happy +fruition, after all. And the story ended like the delightful +old fairy-tales, with a joyous clash of merry wedding-bells.</p> + +<p>But this time there was no rash marrying in haste. Almost +a year elapsed, by the influence and desire of Lady +Quaintree, before the pretty bridal-party met in Flore +Hall, about six weeks before the marriage of Frank Amberley +and Blanche Dormer.</p> + +<p>The echoes of the harmonious wedding-bells sound as +yet through the wedded life of Paul and his true love. +Adieu, care; farewell, sorrow, for the inevitable cares +and sorrows are shared, so fall lightly.</p> + +<p>Sometimes a faint cloud comes over Paul’s face as he +thinks of the one act of folly which had so nearly ruined +his life; but he tries to forget the forbidding past, and +to sun himself in the love and bright smiles of his wife +and two little angel-children, baby Lois, and her elder +brother, Paul.</p> + + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + + +<p>“Her Heart’s Delight,” by Bertha M. Clay is the title +of No. 301 of the <span class="smcap">New Bertha Clay Library</span>. It is a +story that the readers of this series will not find lacking +in the skill that Bertha Clay displays in telling a vivid +romance.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center medium">POPULAR COPYRIGHTS</p> +</div> + +<h2>New Eagle Series</h2> + +<p class="center medium"><i>Carefully Selected Love Stories</i></p> + + +<p>There is such a profusion of good books in this list, that it is an +impossibility to urge you to select any particular title or author’s +work. All that we can say is that any line that contains the complete +works of Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Charles Garvice, Mrs. Harriet +Lewis, May Agnes Fleming, Wenona Gilman, Mrs. Alex. McVeigh +Miller, and other writers of the same type, is worthy of your attention.</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT</i></p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queen Bess</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ruby’s Reward</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Two Keys</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Virginia Heiress</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">12</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edrie’s Legacy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">17</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Leslie’s Loyalty</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">22</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Elaine</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">24</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wasted Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">41</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Heart’s Desire</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">44</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Dowdy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">50</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Ransom</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">55</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Thrice Wedded</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">66</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Witch Hazel</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">70</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sydney</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">73</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Marquis</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">77</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tina</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">79</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Out of the Past</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">84</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Imogene</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">85</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lorrie; or, Hollow Gold</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">88</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Virgie’s Inheritance</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">95</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wilful Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">98</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Claire</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">99</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Audrey’s Recompense</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">102</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sweet Cymbeline</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">109</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Signa’s Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">111</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Faithful Shirley</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">117</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">She Loved Him</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">119</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">’Twixt Smile and Tear</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">122</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Grazia’s Mistake</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">130</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Passion Flower</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">133</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Max</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">136</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Unseen Bridegroom</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">138</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Fatal Wooing</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">141</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lady Evelyn</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">144</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dorothy’s Jewels</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">146</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Magdalen’s Vow</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">151</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Glen Gower</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">155</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nameless Dell</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">157</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Who Wins</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">166</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Masked Bridal</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">168</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Thrice Lost, Thrice Won</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">174</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Guardian Angel</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">177</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A True Aristocrat</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">181</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Baronet’s Bride</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">188</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dorothy Arnold’s Escape</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">199</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Geoffrey’s Victory</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">203</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only One Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">210</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wild Oats</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">213</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Egremont</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">215</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Girl’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">219</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lost: A Pearle</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">222</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lily of Mordaunt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">223</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Leola Dale’s Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">231</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Earl’s Heir</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">233</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nora</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">236</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Humble Lover</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">242</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wounded Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">244</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Hoiden’s Conquest</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">250</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Woman’s Soul</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">255</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Little Marplot</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">257</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Martyred Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">266</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Welfleet Mystery</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">267</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Jeanne</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">268</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Olivia; or, It Was for Her Sake</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">272</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">So Fair, So False</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">276</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">So Nearly Lost</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">277</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Brownie’s Triumph</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">280</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Dilemma</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">282</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Forsaken Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">283</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Lady Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">287</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lady of Darracourt</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">288</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sibyl’s Influence</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">291</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Mysterious Wedding Ring</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">292</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For Her Only</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">296</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heir of Vering</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">299</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Little Miss Whirlwind</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">300</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Spider and the Fly</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">303</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Queen of the Isle</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">304</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stanch as a Woman</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">305</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Led by Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">309</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Castle Cliffs</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">312</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Woven on Fate’s Loom, and The Snowdrift</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">315</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Dark Secret</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">317</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ione</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">318</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stanch of Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">322</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mildred</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">326</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Parted by Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">327</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">He Loves Me</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">328</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">He Loves Me Not</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">330</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Aikenside</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">333</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stella’s Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">334</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Miss McDonald</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">339</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Heart’s Queen</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">340</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Bad Hugh. Vol. I.</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">341</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Bad Hugh. Vol. II.</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">344</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tresillian Court</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">345</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Scorned Wife</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">346</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Guy Tresillian’s Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">347</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Eyes of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">348</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Hearts of Youth</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">351</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Churchyard Betrothal</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">352</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Family Pride. Vol. I.</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">353</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Family Pride. Vol. II.</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">354</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Love Comedy</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">360</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Ashes of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">361</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heart Triumphant</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">362</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stella Rosevelt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">367</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Pride of Her Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">368</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Won By Love’s Valor</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">372</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl in a Thousand</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">373</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Thorn Among Roses.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “A Girl In a Thousand”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">380</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Double Life</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">381</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Sunshine of Love.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “Her Double Life”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">382</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mona</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">391</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Marguerite’s Heritage</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">399</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Betsey’s Transformation</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">407</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Esther, the Fright</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">415</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Trixy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">440</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edna’s Secret Marriage</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">449</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Bailiff’s Scheme</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">450</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Rosamond’s Love.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “The Bailiff’s Scheme”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">451</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Helen’s Victory</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">456</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Vixen’s Treachery</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">457</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Adrift in the World.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “A Vixen’s Treachery”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">458</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Meets Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">464</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Old Life’s Shadows</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">465<td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Outside Her Eden.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “The Old Life’s Shadows”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">474</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Belle of the Season</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">475</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Before Pride.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “The Belle of the Season”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">481</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wedded, Yet No Wife</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">489</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lucy Harding</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">495</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Norine’s Revenge</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">511</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Golden Key</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">512</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heritage of Love.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “The Golden Key”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">519</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Magic Cameo</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">520</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heatherford Fortune.</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl">Sequel to “The Magic Cameo”</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">531</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Better Than Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">542</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Once in a Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">548</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">’Twas Love’s Fault</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">553</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queen Kate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">554</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Step by Step</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">557</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Cupid’s Chains</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">630</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Verdict of the Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">635</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Coronet of Shame</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">640</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl of Spirit</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">645</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Jest of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">648</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gertrude Elliott’s Crucible</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">650</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Diana’s Destiny</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">655</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Linked by Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">663</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Creatures of Destiny</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">671</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Is Young</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">676</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Lady Beth</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">679</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gold in the Gutter</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">712</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love and a Lie</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">721</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl from the South</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">730</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">John Hungerford’s Redemption</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">741</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Fatal Ruby</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">749</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heart of a Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">758</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Woman in It</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">774</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love in a Snare</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">775</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Love Kitty</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">776</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Strange Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">777</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nellie</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">778</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Miss Estcourt; or Olive</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">818</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Girl Who Was True</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">826</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Irony of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">896</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Terrible Secret</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">897</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When To-morrow Came</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">904</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Mad Marriage</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">905</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Woman Without Mercy</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">912</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">One Night’s Mystery</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">913</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Cost of a Lie</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">920</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Silent and True</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">921</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Treasure Lost</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">925</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Forrest House</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">926</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">He Loved Her Once</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">930</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Kate Danton</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">931</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Proud as a Queen</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">935</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queenie Hetherton</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">936</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mightier Than Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">940</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heir of Charlton</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">941</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">While Love Stood Waiting</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">945</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gretchen</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">946</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Beauty That Faded</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">950</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Carried by Storm</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">951</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Dazzling Glitter</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">954</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Marguerite</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">955</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Spurs Onward</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">960</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lost for a Woman</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">961</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His to Love or Hate</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">964</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Paul Ralston’s First Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">965</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Where Love’s Shadows Lie Deep</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">968</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Tracy Diamonds</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">969</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">She Loved Another</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">972</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Cromptons</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">973</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Husband Was a Scamp</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">975</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Merivale Banks</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">978</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The One Girl in the World</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">979</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Priceless Jewel</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">982</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Millionaire’s Daughter and Other Stories</td><td class="tdr">By Chas. Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">983</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Doctor Hathern’s Daughters</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">984</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Colonel’s Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">988</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Ladyship’s Diamonds, and Other Stories</td><td class="tdr">By Chas. Garvice</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">998</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sharing Her Crime</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">999</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Sunset Hall</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1004</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Maude Percy’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1005</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Adopted Daughter</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1010</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Sisters of Torwood</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1015</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Changed Heart</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1016</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Enchanted</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1025</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wife’s Tragedy</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1026</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Brought to Reckoning</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1027</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Madcap Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1028</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">An Unhappy Bargain</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1029</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Working Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1030</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Unbidden Guest</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1031</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Man and His Millions</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1032</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mabel’s Sacrifice</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1033</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Was He Worth It?</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1034</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Two Suitors</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1035</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edith Percival</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1036</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Caught in the Snare</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1037</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Love Concealed</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1038</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Price of Happiness</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1039</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lucky Man</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1040</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Forced Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1041</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Crime of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1042</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Bride’s Opals</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1043</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love That Was Cursed</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1044</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Thorns of Regret</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1045</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Will Find the Way</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1046</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Bitterly Atoned</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1047</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Told in the Twilight</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1048</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Little Barbarian</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1049</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Golden Spell</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1050</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Married in Error</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1051</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">If It Were True</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1052</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Vivian’s Love Story</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1053</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">From Tears to Smiles</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1054</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Dawns</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1055</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Earnest Prayer</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1056</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Strength of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1057</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Lost Love</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1058</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Stronger Passion</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1059</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">What Love Can Cost</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1060</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">At Another’s Bidding</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1061</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Above All Things</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1062</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Curse of Beauty</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1063</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Sister’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1064</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Married in Haste</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1065</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Fair Maid Marian</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1066</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">No Man’s Wife</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1067</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Sacrifice to Love</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1068</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Fatal Gift</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1069</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Life’s Burden</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1070</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Evelyn, the Actress</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1071</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Married for Money</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1072</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Lost Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1073</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Golden Sorrow</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1074</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Heart’s Challenge</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1075</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Willing Slave</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1076</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Freak of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1077</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Punishment</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1078</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Shadow Between Them</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1079</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">No Time for Penitence</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1080</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Norma’s Black Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1081</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wilful Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy Randall Comfort</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1082</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s First Kiss</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1083</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lola Dunbar’s Crime</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1084</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ethel’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1085</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lynette’s Wedding</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1086</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Fair Enchantress</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1087</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Tide of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1088</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Husband’s Other Wife</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1089</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Hearts of Stone</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1090</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Love’s Springtime</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1091</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love at the Loom</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1092</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">What Was She to Him?</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1093</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For Another’s Fault</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1094</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Hearts and Dollars</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allan</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1095</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wife’s Triumph</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1096</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Bachelor Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy May Russell</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1097</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love and Spite</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1098</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Leola’s Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1099</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Power of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1100</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">An Angel of Evil</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1101</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">True to His Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1102</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lady of Beaufort Park</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1103</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Daughter of Darkness</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1104</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Pretty Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1105</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Master of Her Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1106</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Shadowed Happiness</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1107</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">John Elliott’s Flirtation</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy May Russell</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1108</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Forgotten Love</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1109</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sylvia, The Forsaken</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1110</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Dearest Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1111</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Greatest Gift</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1112</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mischievous Maid Faynie</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1113</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Love’s Name</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1114</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Clouded Dawn</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1115</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Blue Grass Heroine</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1116</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Kiss</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1117</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Virgie Talcott’s Mission</td><td class="tdr">By Lucy May Russell</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1118</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Evil Genius</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1119</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Love’s Paradise</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1120</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sold for Gold</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1121</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Andrew Leicester’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1122</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Taken by Storm</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1123</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Mills of the Gods</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1124</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Breath of Slander</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1125</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Loyal Unto Death</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1126</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Spurned Proposal</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1127</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Daredevil Betty</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1128</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Life’s Dark Cloud</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1129</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">True Love Endures</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1130</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Battle of Hearts</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1131</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Better Than Riches</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1132</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tempted By Love</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1133</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Between Good and Evil</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1134</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Southern Princess</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1135</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Thorns of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1136</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Married Flirt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1137</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Priceless Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1138</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Own Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1139</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Harvest</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1140</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Two Loves</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1141</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love He Sought</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1142</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Fateful Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1143</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Surely Triumphs</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1144</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Haunting Past</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1145</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sorely Tried</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1146</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Falsely Accused</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1147</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Given in Vain</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1148</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">No One to Help Her</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1149</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Golden Secret</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1150</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Saved From Herself</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1151</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Gypsy’s Warning</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1152</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Caught in Love’s Net</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1153</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Pride of My Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1154</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Vagabond Heiress</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1155</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Terrible Tomboy</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1156</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Man She Hated</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1157</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Fateful Choice</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1158</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Hero For Love’s Sake</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1159</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Penniless Princess</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1160</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Rugged Pathway</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1161</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Had She Loved Him Less</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1162</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Serpent and the Dove</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1163</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">What Love Made Her</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1164</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Conquers Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1165</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Unbounded Faith</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1166</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heart’s Triumph</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1167</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stronger than Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1168</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Virginia Goddess</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1169</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Young Dream</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1170</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Fate Decrees</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1171</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For a Flirt’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1172</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">All For Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1173</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Could He Have Known</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1174</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Girl He Loved</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Stirling</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1175</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">They Met By Chance</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1176</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lovely Constance</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1177</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love That Prevailed</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1178</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Trixie’s Honor</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1179</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Driven from Home</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1180</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Arm of the Law</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1181</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Will Of Her Own</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1182</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Pity—Not Love</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1183</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Brave Barbara</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1184</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lady Gay’s Martyrdom</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1185</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Barriers of Stone</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1186</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Useless Sacrifice</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1187</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When We Two Parted</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1188</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Far Above Price</td><td class="tdr">By Evelvn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1189</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Love’s Shadows</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1190</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Veiled Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1191</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love Knot</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1192</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">She Scoffed at Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1193</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Life’s Richest Jewel</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1194</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Barrier Between Them</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1195</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Too Quickly Judged</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1196</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lotta, the Cloak Model</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1197</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Loved at Last</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1198</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">They Looked and Loved</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1199</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Wiles of a Siren</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1200</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tricked Into Marriage</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1201</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Twentieth Guest</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1202</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">From Dreams to Waking</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1203</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sweet Kitty Clover</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1204</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Selina’s Love Story</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1205</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Cost of Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1206</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Is a Mystery</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1207</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Speaks</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1208</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Siren’s Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1209</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Share of Sorrow</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1210</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Other Girl’s Lover</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1211</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Fatal Kiss</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1212</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Reckless Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1213</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Without Name or Wealth</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1214</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">At Her Father’s Bidding</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1215</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heart of Hetta</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1216</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Dreadful Legacy</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the +books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New +York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance +promptly, on account of delays in transportation.</p> + + +<p class="center">To be published in July, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1217</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For Jack’s Sake</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1218</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">One Man’s Evil</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published In August, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1219</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Through the Shadows</td><td class="tdr">By Adelaide Fox Robinson</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1220</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Stolen Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Evelyn Malcolm</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in September, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1221</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When the Heart Hungers</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1222</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Love that Would Not Die</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in October, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1223</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A King and a Coward</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1224</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Queen of Song</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published in November, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1225</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Shall We Forgive Her?</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte May Kingsley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1226</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Face to Face with Love</td><td class="tdr">By Lillian R. Drayton</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1227</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Long Since Forgiven</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. E. Burke Collins</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center">To be published In December, 1926.</p> + +<table class="bertha"> +<tr><td class="tdr">1228</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">As Light as Air</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">1229</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Man Proposes</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Dealer">The Dealer</h2> +</div> + + +<p>who handles the STREET & SMITH NOVELS +is a man worth patronizing. The fact that he +does handle our books proves that he has considered +the merits of paper-covered lines, and +has decided that the STREET & SMITH +NOVELS are superior to all others.</p> + +<p>He has looked into the question of the morality +of the paper-covered book, for instance, and +feels that he is perfectly safe in handing one of +our novels to any one, because he has our assurance +that nothing except clean, wholesome +literature finds its way into our lines.</p> + +<p>Therefore, the STREET & SMITH NOVEL +dealer is a careful and wise tradesman, and it +is fair to assume selects the other articles he +has for sale with the same degree of intelligence +as he does his paper-covered books.</p> + +<p>Deal with the STREET & SMITH NOVEL +dealer.</p> + + +<table> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="tdc">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">79 Seventh Avenue</td><td class="tdr">New York City</td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="transnote"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.</p> + +<p>Table of contents has been added and placed into the public domain by +the transcriber.</p> + +<p>Due to a typographical error, an incorrect line of text +(duplicated from an earlier page) was printed on page 36 +of the book used as the basis for this edition. +This has been replaced here with the correct phrase: +“never left him. What would she say when she learnt” +which was sourced from an overseas serialization of the +work under the title <i>Married in Haste</i>, with the +correct text located in the Wednesday, April 5, 1899 issue of +<i>The Maryborough Chronicle</i> newspaper. +</p> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75137 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75137-h/images/cover.jpg b/75137-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7828f22 --- /dev/null +++ b/75137-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75137-h/images/i007.jpg b/75137-h/images/i007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..338cf29 --- /dev/null +++ b/75137-h/images/i007.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab25479 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #75137 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75137) |
