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diff --git a/old/15875-h.zip b/old/15875-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index c4029b3..0000000 --- a/old/15875-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/15875-h/15875-h.htm b/old/15875-h/15875-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e0b7e35..0000000 --- a/old/15875-h/15875-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11662 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?> -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> - <head> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Unseen Bridegroom;, by AUTHOR. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> -/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ -<!-- - p { margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - } - hr { width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; - } - - table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} - - body{margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ - .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ - .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; - float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; - font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} - - .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} - .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} - .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} - .br {border-right: solid 2px;} - .bbox {border: solid 2px;} - - .center {text-align: center;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - - .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} - - .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: - 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} - - .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} - - .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} - - .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} - .poem br {display: none;} - .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} - // --> - /* XML end ]]>*/ - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Unseen Bridgegroom, by May Agnes Fleming - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Unseen Bridgegroom - or, Wedded For a Week - -Author: May Agnes Fleming - -Release Date: May 22, 2005 [EBook #15875] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNSEEN BRIDGEGROOM *** - - - - -Produced by Early Canadiana Online, Robert Cicconetti, -Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1>THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM</h1> - -<h3>OR,</h3> - -<h2>WEDDED FOR A WEEK</h2> - -<h3>BY MAY AGNES FLEMING</h3> - -<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> -<p> - <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I.--THE WALRAVEN BALL.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II.--"CRICKET."</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III.--MR. WALRAVEN'S WEDDING.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV.--MOLLIE'S CONQUEST.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V.--MOLLIE'S MISCHIEF.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI.--MOLLIE'S BRIDAL.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII.--WHERE THE BRIDE WAS.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII.--THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX.--ONE WEEK AFTER.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X.--THE PARSON'S LITTLE STORY.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI.--A MIDNIGHT TETE-A-TETE.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII.--"BLACK MASK"—"WHITE MASK."</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII.--MRS. CARL WALRAVEN'S LITTLE GAME.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV.--THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV.--THE MAN IN THE MASK.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI.--MOLLIE'S DESPAIR.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII.--MIRIAM TO THE RESCUE.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII.--"SHE ONLY SAID, 'MY LIFE IS DREARY.'"</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX.--MISTRESS SUSAN SHARPE.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX.--HUGH INGELOW KEEPS HIS PROMISE.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI.--MRS. SHARPE DOES HER DUTY.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII.--A MOONLIGHT FLITTING.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII.--PRIVATE THEATRICALS.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV.--MOLLIE'S TRIUMPH.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV.--MIRIAM'S MESSAGE.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI.--MIRIAM'S STORY.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII.--DEAD AND BURIED.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII.--CRICKET'S HUSBAND.</b></a><br /> - <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX.--WHICH WINDS UP THE BUSINESS.</b></a><br /> - </p> -<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<h3>THE WALRAVEN BALL.</h3> - - -<p>A dark November afternoon—wet, and windy, and wild. The New York -streets were at their worst—sloppy, slippery, and sodden; the sky -lowering over those murky streets one uniform pall of inky gloom. A bad, -desolate, blood-chilling November afternoon.</p> - -<p>And yet Mrs. Walraven's ball was to come off to-night, and it was rather -hard upon Mrs. Walraven that the elements should make a dead set at her -after this fashion.</p> - -<p>The ball was to be one of the most brilliant affairs of the season, and -all Fifth Avenue was to be there in its glory.</p> - -<p>Fifth Avenue was above caring for anything so commonplace as the -weather, of course; but still it would have been pleasanter, and only -a handsome thing in the clerk of the weather, considering Mrs. Walraven -had not given a ball for twenty years before, to have burnished up the -sun, and brushed away the clouds, and shut up that icy army of winter -winds, and turned out as neat an article of weather as it is possible -in the nature of November to turn out.</p> - -<p>Of course, Mrs. Walraven dwelt on New York's stateliest avenue, in a big -brown-stone palace that was like a palace in an Eastern story, with its -velvet carpets, its arabesques, its filigree work, its chairs, and -tables, and sofas touched up and inlaid with gold, and cushioned in -silks of gorgeous dyes.</p> - -<p>And in all Fifth Avenue, and in all New York City, there were not half -a dozen old women of sixty half so rich, half so arrogant, or half so -ill-tempered as Mrs. Ferdinand Walraven.</p> - -<p>On this bad November afternoon, while the rain and sleet lashed the -lofty windows, and the shrill winds whistled around the gables, Mrs. -Ferdinand Walraven's only son sat in his chamber, staring out of the -window, and smoking no end of cigars.</p> - -<p>Fifth Avenue, in the raw and rainy twilight, is not the sprightliest -spot on earth, and there was very little for Mr. Walraven to gaze at -except the stages rattling up the pave, and some belated newsboys crying -their wares.</p> - -<p>Perhaps these same little ill-clad newsboys, looking up through the -slanting rain, and seeing the well-dressed gentleman behind the rich -draperies, thought it must be a fine thing to be Mr. Carl Walraven, heir -to a half a million of money and the handsomest house in New York.</p> - -<p>Perhaps you might have thought so, too, glancing into that lofty -chamber, with its glowing hangings of ruby and gold, its exquisite -pictures, its inlaid tables, its twinkling chandelier, its perfumed -warmth, and glitter, and luxury.</p> - -<p>But Carl Walraven, lying back in a big easy-chair, in slippers and -dressing-gown, smoking his costly cheroots, looked out at the dismal -evening with the blackest of bitter, black scowls.</p> - -<p>"Confound the weather!" muttered Mr. Walraven, between strong, white -teeth. "Why the deuce does it always rain on the twenty-fifth of -November? Seventeen years ago, on the twenty-fifth of this horrible -month, I was in Paris, and Miriam was—Miriam be hanged!" He stopped -abruptly, and pitched his cigar out of the window. "You've turned over a -new leaf, Carl Walraven, and what the demon do you mean by going back to -the old leaves? You've come home from foreign parts to your old and -doting mother—I thought she would be in her dotage by this time—and -you're a responsible citizen, and an eminently rich and respectable man. -Carl, my boy, forget the past, and behave yourself for the future; as -the copy-books say: 'Be virtuous and you will be happy.'"</p> - -<p>He laughed to himself, a laugh unpleasant to hear, and taking up another -cigar, went on smoking.</p> - -<p>He had been away twenty years, this Carl Walraven, over the world, -nobody knew where. A reckless, self-willed, headstrong boy, he had -broken wild and run away from home at nineteen, abruptly and without -warning. Abruptly and without warning he had returned home, one fine -morning, twenty years after, and walking up the palatial steps, shabby, -and grizzled, and weather-beaten, had strode straight to the majestic -presence of the mistress of the house, with outstretched hand and a cool -"How are you, mother?"</p> - -<p>And Mrs. Walraven knew her son. He had left her a fiery, handsome, -bright-faced lad, and this man before her was gray and black-bearded and -weather-beaten and brown, but she knew him. She had risen with a shrill -cry of joy, and held open her arms.</p> - -<p>"I've come back, you see, mother," Mr. Carl said, easily, "like the -proverbial bad shilling. I've grown tired knocking about this big world, -and now, at nine-and-thirty, with an empty purse, a light heart, a -spotless conscience, and a sound digestion, I'm going to settle down and -walk in the way I should go. You are glad to have your ne'er-do-well -back again, I hope, mother?"</p> - -<p>Glad! A widowed mother, lonely and old, glad to have an only son back! -Mrs. Walraven had tightened those withered arms about him closer and -closer, with only that one shrill cry:</p> - -<p>"Oh, Carl—my son! my son!"</p> - -<p>"All right, mother! And now, if there's anything in this house to eat, -I'll eat it, because I've been fasting since yesterday, and haven't a -stiver between me and eternity. By George! this isn't such a bad harbor -for a shipwrecked mariner to cast anchor in. I've been over the world, -mother, from Dan to—What's-her-name! I've been rich and I've been poor; -I've been loved and I've been hated; I've had my fling at everything -good and bad under the shining sun, and I come home from it all, -subscribing to the doctrine: 'There's nothing new and nothing true.' And -it don't signify; it's empty as egg-shells, the whole of it."</p> - -<p>That was the story of the prodigal son. Mrs. Walraven asked no -questions. She was a wise old woman; she took her son and was thankful. -It had happened late in October, this sudden arrival, and now, late in -November, the fatted calf was killed, and Mrs. Walraven's dear five -hundred friends bidden to the feast.</p> - -<p>And they came. They had all heard the story of the widow's heir, so long -lost, and now, dark and mysterious as Count Lara, returned to lord it in -his ancestral halls. He was a very hero of romance—a wealthy hero, -too—and all the pretty man-traps on the avenue, baited with lace and -roses, silk and jewels, were coming to-night to angle for this dazzling -prize.</p> - -<p>The long-silent drawing-rooms, shrouded for twenty years in holland and -darkness, were one blaze of light at last. Flowers bloomed everywhere; -musicians, up in a gilded gallery, discoursed heavenly music; there was -a conservatory where alabaster lamps made a silver moonlight in a -modern Garden of Eden; there was a supper-table spread and waiting, a -feast for the gods and Sybarites; and there was Mrs. Walraven, in black -velvet and point lace, upright and stately, despite her sixty years, -with a diamond star of fabulous price ablaze on her breast. And there by -her side, tall, and dark, and dignified, stood her only son, the -prodigal, the repentant, the wealthy Carl Walraven.</p> - -<p>"Not handsome," said Miss Blanche Oleander, raising her glass, "but -eminently interesting. He looks like the hero of a sensation novel, or -a modern melodrama, or one of Lord Byron's poems. Does he dance, and will -he ask me, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>Yes, the dusky hero of the night did dance, and did ask Miss Blanche -Oleander. A tall, gray-eyed, imperious sort of beauty, this Miss -Blanche, seven-and-twenty years of age, and frightfully <i>passée</i>, more -youthful belles said.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven danced the very first dance with Miss Oleander, to her -infinite but perfectly concealed delight.</p> - -<p>"If you can imagine the Corsair, whirling in a rapid redowa with -Medora," Miss Oleander afterward said, "you have Mr. Walraven and -myself. There were about eighty Guinares gazing enviously on, ready to -poniard me, every one of them, if they dared, and if they were not such -miserable little fools and cowards. When they cease to smell of bread -and butter, Mr. Walraven may possibly deign to look at them."</p> - -<p>It seemed as if the dashing Blanche had waltzed herself straight into -the affections of the new-found heir, for he devoted himself to her in -the most <i>prononcé</i> manner for the first three hours, and afterward led -her in to supper.</p> - -<p>Miss Blanche sailed along serene, uplifted, splendidly calm; the little -belles in lace, and roses, and pearls, fluttered and twittered like -angry doves; and Mme. Walraven, from the heights of her hostess-throne, -looked aslant at her velvet and diamonds with uneasy old eyes.</p> - -<p>"The last of all you should have selected," she said, waylaying her son -after supper. "A woman without a heart, Carl—a modern Minerva. I have -no wish to interfere with you, my son; I shall call the day happy that -brings me your wife, but not Blanche Oleander—not that cold-blooded, -bold-faced, overgrown grenadier."</p> - -<p>Madame hissed out the words between a set of spiteful, false teeth, -and glared, as women do glare, upon the gray-eyed Blanche. And Carl -listened, and laughed sardonically.</p> - -<p>"A woman without a heart. So much the better, mother; the less heart -the more head; and I like your clever, dashing women, who are big and -buxom, and able to take care of themselves. Don't forget, mother mine, -I haven't proposed to the sparkling Blanche, and I don't think I -shall—to-night. You wouldn't have me fall at the feet of those -mealy-winged moths fluttering around us, with heads softer than their -poor little hearts—you wouldn't, I hope?"</p> - -<p>With which Mr. Walraven went straight back to Miss Oleander and asked -her to dance the lancers.</p> - -<p>Miss Oleander, turning with ineffable calm from a bevy of rose-robed and -white-robed young ladies, said, "Yes," as if Mr. Walraven was no more -than any other man, and stood up to take his arm.</p> - -<p>But there is many a slip. Miss Oleander and Mr. Walraven never danced -that particular set, for just then there came a ring at the door-bell -so pealing and imperious that it sounded sharply even through the noisy -ball-room.</p> - -<p>"The Marble Guest, surely," Blanche said, "and very determined to be -heard."</p> - -<p>Before the words were well uttered there was a sound of an altercation -in the hall—one of the tall footmen pathetically protesting, and a -shrill female voice refusing to listen to those plaintive protests. Then -there suddenly fell peace.</p> - -<p>"After a storm there cometh a calm," Mr. Walraven said. "Miss Oleander, -shall we move on? Well, Johnson, what is it?"</p> - -<p>For Johnson, the taller of the two tall footmen, stood before them -gazing beseechingly at his master.</p> - -<p>"It's a woman, sir, all wet and dirty, and horrid to look at. She says -she will see you, and there she stands, and Wilson nor me we can't do -nothing with her. If you don't come she says she'll walk up here and -make you come. Them," said Johnson, plaintively, "were her own -language."</p> - -<p>Blanche Oleander, gazing up at her companion's face, saw it changing to -a startled, dusky white.</p> - -<p>"Some beggar—some troublesome tramp, I dare say." But he dropped her -arm abruptly as he said it. "Excuse me a moment, Miss Oleander. I had -better see her to prevent noise. Now, then, Johnson."</p> - -<p>Mr. Johnson led the way down a grand, sweeping staircase, rich in -gilding and carving, through a paved and vaulted hall, and out into -a lofty vestibule.</p> - -<p>There a woman stood, dripping wet and wretchedly clad, as -miserable-looking a creature as ever walked the bad city streets. The -flare of the gas-jets shone full upon her—upon a haggard face lighted -up with two blazing eyes.</p> - -<p>"For God's sake! Miriam!"</p> - -<p>Carl Walraven started back, as if struck by an iron hand. The woman took -a step forward and confronted him.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Carl Walraven—Miriam! You did well to come at once. I have -something to say to you. Shall I say it here?"</p> - -<p>That was all Messrs. Johnson and Wilson ever heard, for Mr. Walraven -opened the library door and waved her in, followed, and shut the door -again with a sounding slam.</p> - -<p>"Now, then," he demanded, imperiously, "what do you want? I thought you -were dead and—"</p> - -<p>"Don't say that other word, Mr. Walraven; it is too forcible. You only -hoped it. I am not dead. It's a great deal worse with me than that."</p> - -<p>"What do you want?" Mr. Walraven repeated, steadily, though his swarth -face was dusky gray with rage or fear, or both. "What do you come here -for to-night? Has the master you serve helped you bodily, that you -follow and find me even here? Are you not afraid I will throttle you -for your pains?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least."</p> - -<p>She said it with a composure the best bred of his mother's guests could -not have surpassed, standing bolt upright before him, her dusky eyes of -fire burning on his face.</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid of you, Mr. Walraven (that's your name, isn't it?—and -a very fine-sounding name it is), but you're afraid of me—afraid to the -core of your bitter, black heart. You stand there dressed like a king, -and I stand here in rags your kitchen scullions would scorn; but for all -that, Carl Walraven—for all that, you're my slave, and you know it!"</p> - -<p>Her eyes blazed, her hands clinched, her gaunt form seemed to tower and -grow tall with the sense of her triumph and her power.</p> - -<p>"Have you anything else to say?" inquired Mr. Walraven, sullenly, -"before I call my servants and have you turned out?"</p> - -<p>"You dare not," retorted the woman, fiercely—"you dare not, coward! -boaster! and you know it! I have a great deal more to say, and I will -say it, and you will hear me before we part to-night. I know my power, -Mr. Carl Walraven, and I mean to use it. Do you think I need wear these -rags? Do you think I need tramp the black, bad streets, night after -night, a homeless, houseless wretch? No; not if I chose, not if I -ordered—do you hear?—<i>ordered</i> my aristocratic friend, Mr. Walraven, -of Fifth Avenue, to empty his plethoric purse in my dirty pocket. Ah, -yes," with a shrill laugh, "Miriam knows her power!"</p> - -<p>"Are you almost done?" Mr. Walraven replied, calmly. "Have you come here -for anything but talk? If so, for what?"</p> - -<p>"Not your money—be sure of that. I would starve—I would die the death -of a dog in a kennel—before I would eat a mouthful of bread bought with -your gold. I come for justice!"</p> - -<p>"Justice"—he lifted a pair of sullen, inquiring eyes—"justice! To -whom?"</p> - -<p>"To one whom you have injured beyond reparation—Mary Dane!"</p> - -<p>She hissed the name in a sharp, sibilant whisper, and the man recoiled -as if an adder had stung him.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" he asked, with dry, parched lips. "Why do you come -here to torment me? Mary Dane is dead."</p> - -<p>"Mary Dane's daughter lives not twenty miles from where we stand. -Justice to the dead is beyond the power of even the wealthy Carl -Walraven. Justice to the living can yet be rendered, and shall be -to the uttermost farthing."</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to find Mary Dane, and bring her here, educate her, dress -her, treat as your own child."</p> - -<p>"Where shall I find her?"</p> - -<p>"At K——, twenty miles from here."</p> - -<p>"Who is she? What is she?"</p> - -<p>"An actress, traveling about with a strolling troupe; an actress -since her sixth year—on the stage eleven years to-night. This is her -seventeenth birthday, as you know."</p> - -<p>"Is this all?"</p> - -<p>"All at present. Are you prepared to obey, or shall I—"</p> - -<p>"There!" interrupted Mr. Walraven, "that will do. There is no need of -threats, Miriam—I am very willing to obey you in this. If I had known -Mary Dane—why the deuce did you give her that name?—was on this -continent, I would have hunted her up of my own accord. I would, upon -my honor!"</p> - -<p>"Swear by something you possess," the woman said, with a sneer; "honor -you never had since I first knew you."</p> - -<p>"Come, come, Miriam," said Mr. Walraven, uneasily, "don't be -cantankerous. Let by-gones be by-gones. I'm sorry for the past—I am -indeed, and am willing to do well for the future. Sit down and be -sociable, and tell me all about it. How came you to let the little -one go on the stage first?"</p> - -<p>Miriam spurned away the proffered chair.</p> - -<p>"I spurn it as I would your dead body if it lay before me, Carl -Walraven! Sit down with you? Never, if my life depended on it! The child -became an actress because I could keep her no longer—I couldn't keep -myself—and because she had the voice and face of an angel—poor little -wretch! The manager of a band of strolling players, passing through our -village, heard her baby voice singing some baby song, and pounced upon -her on the instant. We struck a bargain, and I sold her, Mr. -Walraven—yes, sold her."</p> - -<p>"You wretch! Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I went to see her occasionally afterward, but not often, for the -strolling troupe were here, there, and everywhere—from pillar to post. -But I never lost sight of her, and I saw her grow up a pretty, slender, -bright-eyed lass, well dressed, well fed, and happy—perfectly happy in -her wandering life. Her great-grandmother—old Peter Dane's wife—was a -gypsy, Mr. Walraven, and I dare say the wild blood broke out. She liked -the life, and became the star of the little band—the queen of the -troupe. I kept her in view even when she crossed the Atlantic last year, -and paid her a visit a week ago to-night."</p> - -<p>"Humph!" was Carl Walraven's comment. "Well, Mistress Miriam, it might -have been worse; no thanks to you, though. And now—what does she know -of her own story?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, I tell you. Her name is Mary Dane, and she is seventeen -years old on the twenty-fifth of November. Her father and mother are -dead—poor but honest people, of course—and I am Aunt Miriam, earning -a respectable living by washing clothes and scrubbing floors. That is -what she knows. How much of that is true, Mr. Walraven?"</p> - -<p>"Then she never heard of me?"</p> - -<p>"She has never had that misfortune yet; it has been reserved for -yourself. You are a rich man, and you will go to K——, and you will see -her play, and will take a fancy to her, and adopt her as your daughter. -There is the skeleton for you to clothe with flesh."</p> - -<p>"And suppose she refuses?"</p> - -<p>"She will not refuse. She likes handsome dresses and jewelry as well as -any other little fool of seventeen. You make her the offer, and my word -for it, it will be accepted."</p> - -<p>"I will go, Miriam. Upon my word I feel curious to see the witch. Who is -she like, Miriam—mamma or me?"</p> - -<p>The woman's eyes flashed fire.</p> - -<p>"Not like you, you son of Satan! If she was I would have strangled her -in her cradle! Let me go, for the air you breathe chokes me! Dare to -disobey at your peril!"</p> - -<p>"I will start for K—— to-morrow. She will be here—my adopted -daughter—before the week ends."</p> - -<p>"Good! And this old mother of yours, will she be kind to the girl? I -won't have her treated badly, you understand."</p> - -<p>"My mother will do whatever her son wishes. She would be kind to a young -gorilla if I said so. Don't fear for your niece—she will be treated -well."</p> - -<p>"Let it be so, or beware! A blood-hound on your track would be less -deadly than I! I will be here again, and yet again, to see for myself -that you keep your word."</p> - -<p>She strode to the door, opened it, and stood in the illuminated ball. -Johnson just had time to vanish from the key-hole and no more. Down the -stair-way pealed the wild, melancholy music of a German waltz; from the -dining-room came the clink and jingle of silver, and china, and glass. -The woman's haggard face filled with scorn and bitterness as she gave -one fleeting, backward glance.</p> - -<p>"They say there is a just and avenging Heaven, yet Carl Walraven is -master of all this. Wealth, love, and honor for him, and a nameless -grave for her; the streets, foul and deadly, for me. The mill of the -gods may grind sure, but it grinds fearfully slow—fearfully slow!"</p> - -<p>They were the last words Carl Walraven heard her utter. She opened -the house door, gathered her threadbare shawl closer around her, and -fluttered away in the wild, wet night.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<h3>"CRICKET."</h3> - - -<p>The little provincial theater was crowded from pit to dome—long tiers -of changing faces and luminous eyes. There was a prevalent odor of stale -tobacco, and orange-peel, and bad gas; and there was bustle, and noise, -and laughter, and a harsh collection of stringed instruments grinding -out the overture.</p> - -<p>There were stamps and calls for the tawdry curtain to rise, when a -gentleman entered, sauntered up to a front seat, took up a bill and -began to read it—a tall, middle-aged, rather distinguished-looking man, -black and bearded, with piercing eyes, superfine clothes, and a general -aristocratic air about him.</p> - -<p>People paused to look again at him—for he was a stranger there—but -nobody recognized him, and Mr. Carl Walraven read his bill undisturbed.</p> - -<p>The play was "Fanchon the Cricket," and the bill announced, in very -big capitals, that the part of Fanchon was to be played by that -"distinguished and beautiful young English actress, Miss Mollie Dane."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven saw no more; he sat holding the strip of paper before -him, and staring at the one name as if the fat letters fascinated -him—"Fanchon, Miss Mollie Dane."</p> - -<p>A shrill-voiced bell tinkled, and the drop-curtain went up, and the -household of Father Barbeaud was revealed. There was a general settling -into seats, hats flew off, the noises ceased, and the play began.</p> - -<p>A moment or two, and, in rags and tatters, hair streaming, and feet -bare, on the stage bounded Fanchon, the Cricket.</p> - -<p>There was an uproarious greeting. Evidently it was not Miss Dane's first -appearance before that audience, and still more evidently she was a -prime favorite.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven dropped his bill, poised his lorgnette, and prepared to -stare his fill.</p> - -<p>She was very well worth looking at, this clear-voiced Mollie -Dane—through the tatters and unkempt hair he could see that. The stars -in the frosty November sky without were not brighter than her dark, -bright eyes; no silvery music that the heir of all the Walravens had -ever heard was clearer or sweeter than her free, girlish laugh; no -golden sunburst ever more beautiful than the waving banner of wild, -yellow hair. Mollie Dane stood before him a beauty born.</p> - -<p>Every nerve in Carl Walraven's body thrilled as he looked at her. How -lovely that face! How sweet that voice, that laugh! How eminently well -she acted!</p> - -<p>He had seen women of whom the world raved play that very part; but he -had never, no, never seen it better played than he saw it to-night.</p> - -<p>"She will make the world ring with her name if she adheres to the -stage," Carl Walraven said to himself, enthusiastically; "and she never -will play anything better than she plays the 'Cricket.' She is Fanchon -herself—saucy, daring, generous, irresistible Fanchon! And she is -beautiful as the angels above."</p> - -<p>The play went on; Fanchon danced, and sobbed, and sung, and wept, and -was mischievous as a scratching kitten, and gentle as a turtle-dove; -took all the hearts by storm, and was triumphantly reunited to her lover -at last.</p> - -<p>I don't know how many young men in that audience were left without -an atom of heart, how many would have given their two ears to be in -handsome Landry Barbeaud's boots.</p> - -<p>The roof nearly rose with the thunders of applause when the curtain -fell, and Carl Walraven got up with the rest, his head whirling, his -brain dizzy.</p> - -<p>"Good Heaven!" he thought, stumbling along the dark, chilly streets to -his hotel, "what a perfectly dazzling little witch she is! Was there -ever such another sparkling, bewildering little fairy in the world -before?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven spent the night in a fever of impatience. He was one of -those men who, when they set their hearts on anything, find no peace, no -rest, until they obtain it. He had come here partly through curiosity, -partly because he dare not refuse Miriam; he had seen Mary Dane, and lo! -at first sight he was dazzled and bewitched.</p> - -<p>Next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Walraven obtained all the information he -desired concerning Miss Mollie Dane. Some half dozen of the actors were -stopping at the hotel, and proved very willing, under the influence of -brandy and water, to give the free-handed stranger Miss Dane's biography -as far as they knew it.</p> - -<p>She was just as charming off the stage as on; just as pretty, just -as saucy, just as captivating. She was wild and full of tricks as an -unbroken colt; but she was a thoroughly good girl, for all that, lavish -of her money to all who needed, and snubbing lovers incontinently. She -was stopping up the street at another hotel, and she would in all -probability be easily accessible about noon.</p> - -<p>The seedy, strolling players drank their diluted brandy, smoked their -cigars, and told Mr. Walraven all this. They rather laughed at the New -York millionaire when he was out of sight. He had fallen in love with -pretty, blue-eyed Mollie, no doubt, and that was a very stale story with -the shabby players.</p> - -<p>Noon came, and, speckless and respectable to the last degree, Mr. -Walraven presented himself at the other hotel, and sent up his card -with a waiter to Miss Dane.</p> - -<p>The waiter ushered him into the hotel parlor, cold and prim as it is -in the nature of hotel parlors to be. Mr. Walraven sat down and stared -vaguely at the papered walls, rather at a loss as to what he should say -to this piquant Mollie, and wondering how he would feel if she laughed -at him.</p> - -<p>"And she will laugh," he thought, with a mental groan; "she's the sort -of girl that laughs at everything. And she may refuse, too; there is no -making sure of a woman; and then what will Miriam say?"</p> - -<p>He paused with a gasp. There was a quick patter of light feet down the -stairs, the last two cleared with a jump, a swish of silken skirts, a -little gush of perfume, and then, bright as a flash of light, blue-eyed -Mollie stood before him. She held his card in her fingers, and all the -yellow hair fell over her plump shoulders, like amber sunshine over -snow.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Carl Walraven?" Miss Dane said, with a smile and a graceful little -bow.</p> - -<p>Mr. Carl Walraven rose up and returned that pretty courtesy with a -salute stiff and constrained.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Miss Dane."</p> - -<p>"Pray resume your seat, Mr. Walraven," with an airy wave of a little -white hand. "To what do I owe this visit?"</p> - -<p>She fluttered into a big black arm-chair as she spoke, folded the little -white hands, and glanced across with brightly expectant eyes.</p> - -<p>"You must think this call, from an utter stranger, rather singular, Miss -Dane," Mr. Walraven began, considerably at a loss.</p> - -<p>Miss Dane laughed.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, no! not at all—the sort of thing I am used to, I assure you! -May I ask its purport?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane, you must pardon me," said Mr. Walraven, plunging desperately -head first into his mission, "but I saw you play last night, and I -have—yes, I have taken a violent fancy to you."</p> - -<p>Miss Mollie Dane never flinched. The wicked sparkle in the dancing eyes -grew a trifle wickeder, perhaps, but that was all.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said, composedly; "go on."</p> - -<p>"You take it very coolly," remarked the gentleman, rather taken aback -himself. "You don't appear the least surprised."</p> - -<p>"Of course not! I told you I was used to it. Never knew a gentleman of -taste to see me play yet and not take a violent fancy to me. Pray go -on."</p> - -<p>If Miss Dane wished, in her wickedness, to utterly disconcert her -middle-aged admirer, she could not have adopted a surer plan. For fully -five minutes he sat staring in hopeless silence.</p> - -<p>"Have you anything more to say?" queried the dauntless Mollie, pulling -out her watch. "Because, if you have, you will please say it at once. -My time is precious, I assure you. Rehearsal is at three, and after -rehearsal there are the spangles to sew on my dress, and after that—"</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Miss Dane; I have a great deal more to say, and if -you will listen you need never attend rehearsal again, and never sew on -spangles any more."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!"</p> - -<p>The blue eyes opened very wide in a fixed, unwinking stare.</p> - -<p>"I like you very much, Miss Dane—so much that I think it is a thousand -pities you should waste your youth, and beauty, and genius on desert -air. So—"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Miss Dane—"so you have fallen in love with me at first -sight. Is that what you are trying to say?"</p> - -<p>"No!" responded Mr. Walraven, emphatically. "I am not in the least in -love with you, and never mean to be—in that way."</p> - -<p>"Oh, in what way, then, Mr. Walraven?"</p> - -<p>"I am a rich man, Miss Dane, and a lonely man very often, and I should -like to have a daughter to cheer my old age—a daughter like you, -Mistress Cricket, saucy and bright, and so pretty that it will be -a pleasure only to look at her."</p> - -<p>"And a very complimentary papa you will make. Have you no daughters of -your own, Mr. Walraven?"</p> - -<p>"None, Miss Mollie. I have the misfortune to have no wife."</p> - -<p>"And never mean to have?"</p> - -<p>"Can't say about that. I may one day."</p> - -<p>"And you are quite sure you will never want me to fill that vacant -honor?"</p> - -<p>"Surer than sure, my dear little girl I want you only for my adopted -daughter."</p> - -<p>"And you never saw me before last night?"</p> - -<p>"Never," said Carl Walraven, unflinchingly.</p> - -<p>"You are a very rich man, you say?"</p> - -<p>"Very rich—a millionaire—and you shall be my heiress when I die."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid I shall be a very long time out of my inheritance, then. -Well, this is a surprise, and you are the oddest gentleman I have met -for some time. Please let me catch my breath! You are quite certain you -are not playing a practical joke at my expense all this time?"</p> - -<p>"No! upon my word and honor, no! I mean precisely what I say."</p> - -<p>"And supposing I say yes—supposing I agree to go with you, for the fun -of the thing, what do you mean to do with me, Mr. Walraven?"</p> - -<p>"To treat you as I would a Miss Walraven of seventeen years old, if -there were such a person; to fill your pockets with money, and your -wardrobe with fine clothes; to give you a horse to ride, and a piano to -play, a carriage to drive in, and a waiting-maid to scold. What more can -I do? I will give you masters to teach you everything under the sun. -Balls, parties, and the opera at will—everything, in short, your heart -can desire."</p> - -<p>The starry eyes sparkled, the rose-tinted cheeks flushed with delight.</p> - -<p>"I can not believe it; it is too good to be true. Oh, you can't mean it, -Mr. Walraven. No one ever had their wildest flight of fancy realized in -this manner."</p> - -<p>"You shall if you will become my daughter. If my promise proves false, -are you not free to return? There are no ogres nowadays to carry young -ladies off to enchanted palaces and eat them. Come with me to my home in -New York. If I fail in aught I have promised, why, return here."</p> - -<p>Mollie brought her two little palms together with an enthusiastic slap.</p> - -<p>"I'll do it, Mr. Walraven! I know it's all a dream and an illusion, but -still I'll see the dream to the end; that is, if you can make it all -right with Mr. Harkner, the manager."</p> - -<p>"I can make it all right!" exclaimed Mr. Walraven. "Money can do -anything under the sun. He has his price, like other men, and I can pay -it. If Mr. Harkner and I come to terms, will you be ready to start with -me to-morrow, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Quite ready. But you won't make it right. He will never let me go; you -will see."</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid. I will call upon him at once, and after the interview -I will let you know the result. He is in the house now, is he not?"</p> - -<p>"Down at the bar, very likely. I will wait for you here."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven took his hat and left, delighted with his success.</p> - -<p>The manager was at the bar, as Miss Dane had predicted, and eyed Mr. -Walraven suspiciously from head to foot when he found his business -concerned his star actress.</p> - -<p>He was accustomed to gentlemen falling in love with her, and quite -willing to take little bribes from them; but he stared in angry -amazement when he heard what Carl Walraven had to say.</p> - -<p>"Carry off Mollie!" exclaimed Mr. Harkner, "and adopt her as your -daughter! What do you take me for, to believe such a story as that?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Harkner was pretty far gone, and all the more inclined to be -skeptical. Mr. Walraven saw it, and knew that appearances were dead -against him, and so swallowed his wrath.</p> - -<p>"It is the truth, upon my honor. Miss Dane believes me and has -consented. Nothing remains but to settle matters with you."</p> - -<p>"I won't settle matters! I won't hear of it! I won't part with my best -actress!"</p> - -<p>"Yes you will for a fair price. Come, name the sum; I'll pay it."</p> - -<p>Mr. Harkner opened his eyes. Mr. Walraven opened his check-book.</p> - -<p>"You do mean it, then?"</p> - -<p>"Don't I look as if I meant it? Quick, I say! If you don't look sharp I -will take her without any price!"</p> - -<p>"She's a priceless treasure!" hiccoughed the manager—"worth her weight -in gold to me, and so—"</p> - -<p>He named a sum that made even Carl Walraven wince; but he was a great -deal too reckless to draw back.</p> - -<p>"It is a most cold-blooded extortion," he said; "but you shall have -it. And at your peril you ever interfere with my adopted daughter -afterward."</p> - -<p>He signed the check and flung it to the manager, turned and went out, -and left that individual staring in blank bewilderment.</p> - -<p>Golden-haired Mollie was pacing impatiently up and down the parlor when -Mr. Walraven walked in again, his face aglow with triumph.</p> - -<p>"It is all right, Mollie. I told you I was more than a match for your -manager. You have trod the boards for the last time."</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Walraven; I am going to tread the boards again to-night. -It is Cricket still. Don't you want to be enchanted once more?"</p> - -<p>"Just as you please. Once is neither here now there. But you will be -ready for the eight A.M. train to-morrow, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"I have promised, Mr. Walraven, and I always keep my word. So Mr. -Harkner has consented? Now, that is not flattering, is it? What winning -ways you must possess to make all the world do as you say!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven held up his purse, gold shining through its silken meshes.</p> - -<p>"Behold the magic key to every heart, Cricket! Here, you shall be my -purse-bearer now."</p> - -<p>He tossed it into her lap. Mollie's blue eyes sparkled. She was only -seventeen, poor child, and she liked money for what money brought.</p> - -<p>"I shall leave you now," Mr. Walraven said, looking at his watch. "Three -o'clock, Mollie, and time for rehearsal. I shall go and see Cricket -to-night, and to-morrow morning Cricket must be ready to go with me. -Until then, my adopted daughter, adieu!"</p> - -<p>That night, when the green curtain went up, the strange gentleman sat in -the front seat for the second time, and gazed on the antics of Fanchon, -the Cricket.</p> - -<p>The girl played it well, because she played her own willful, tricky -self, and she kissed her taper fingers to the enraptured audience, and -felt sorry to think it might be for the last time.</p> - -<p>Next morning, as demure as a little nun, in her traveling suit of gray, -Miss Cricket took her seat beside her new-made guardian, and was whirled -away to New York.</p> - -<p>"Pray, what am I to call you?" she asked, as they sat side by side. "Am -I to keep at a respectful distance, and say 'Mr. Walraven,' or, as I am -your adopted daughter, is it to be papa?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Cricket, personally I have no objection, of course; but, then, -'papa'—don't you think 'papa' might set people asking questions, now?"</p> - -<p>"Very true; and some clever person might get investigating, and find out -you were my papa in reality."</p> - -<p>"Mollie!" said Mr. Walraven, wincing.</p> - -<p>"That's the way in the melodramas, you see, and you are very like the -hero of a five-act melodrama. Well, Mr. Walraven, decide what I shall -call you!"</p> - -<p>"Suppose you say guardian. That will hit the mark, I think. And we -will tell people who ask troublesome questions that you are the orphan -daughter of a dead cousin of mine. What do you say?"</p> - -<p>"As you please, of course. It is all one to me."</p> - -<p>The train thundered into the depot presently, and there was the usual -turmoil and uproar. Mr. Walraven called a cab, and half an hour's -rattling over the stony streets brought them to the Walraven mansion.</p> - -<p>Mollie Dane, accustomed all her life to dingy hotels and lodgings, -glanced up at the grand staircase and imposing hall in rapturous -surprise. Mme. Walraven stood graciously waiting to receive her.</p> - -<p>"Here's a granddaughter for you, mother," said Mr. Walraven—"a -companion to cheer and brighten your future life. My adopted -daughter—Mollie Dane."</p> - -<p>The stately old lady bent and kissed the bright, fresh face.</p> - -<p>"I am very happy to welcome you, my dear, and will try heartily to make -your new home pleasant. You are tired, of course? Here, Margaret, show -Miss Dane to her room."</p> - -<p>A spruce waiting-maid appeared at the old lady's summons, and led -Miss Dane, through carpeted corridors, into the daintiest of dainty -bed-chambers, all blue silk and white lace drapery, and rich furniture, -and exquisite pictures.</p> - -<p>In all her life long, Mollie had never beheld anything half so -beautiful, and she caught her breath with one little cry of delight.</p> - -<p>"Shall I help you, miss?" very respectfully asked the girl. "I'm to be -your maid, please, and luncheon will be ready by the time you are -dressed."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane permitted her to remove her traveling-dress in ecstatic -silence, and robe her in azure silk, just a shade less blue than her -eyes.</p> - -<p>Very, very pretty she looked, with all her loose golden ringlets, and -that brilliant flush on either cheek; and so Mrs. Walraven and her son -thought when she appeared, like a radiant vision, in the dining-room.</p> - -<p>The afternoon and evening went like a swift dream of delight in viewing -the house and its splendors. She retired early, with a kiss from -guardian and grandmamma, her head in a whirl with the events of the day.</p> - -<p>Margaret's tasks were very light that night; her little mistress did not -detain her ten minutes. When she had gone, and she was fairly alone, -Mollie sprung up and went whirling round the room in a dance of delight.</p> - -<p>"To think of it!" she cried—"to think all my wildest dreams should -come true like this, and my life go on like a fairy tale! There is -Mr. Walraven, the good genii of the story; Mrs. Walraven, the old but -well-meaning fairy godmother; and I'm Cinderella, with the tatters and -rags turned to cloth of gold, and nothing to do but wait at my ease for -the fairy prince, and marry him when he comes. Cricket! Cricket! you're -the luckiest witch's granddaughter that ever danced to her own shadow!"</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<h3>MR. WALRAVEN'S WEDDING.</h3> - - -<p>Mollie Dane made herself very much at home at once in the magnificent -Walraven mansion. The dazzle of its glories scarcely lasted beyond the -first day, or, if it did, nobody saw it. Why, indeed, should she be -dazzled? She, who had been Lady Macbeth, and received the Thane of -Cawdor at her own gates; who had been Juliet, the heiress of all the -Capulets; who had seen dukes and nobles snubbed unmercifully every night -of her life by virtuous poverty, on the stage. Before the end of the -first week Mollie had become the light of the house, perfectly -indispensable to the happiness of its inmates.</p> - -<p>Miss Dane was launched into society at a dinner-party given for the -express purpose by "grandmamma". Wondrously pretty looked the youthful -<i>débutante</i>, in silvery silk and misty lace and pearls, her eyes like -blue stars, her cheeks like June roses.</p> - -<p>In the wintery dusk of the short December days, Mrs. Walraven -received her guests in the library, an imposing room, oak-paneled, -crimson-draped, and filled from floor to ceiling with a noble collection -of books. Great snow-flakes fluttered against the plate glass, and an -icy blast howled up the avenue, but in the glittering dining-room -flowers bloomed, and birds sung, and tropical fruits perfumed the air; -and radiant under the gas-light, beautiful Miss Dane flashed the light -of her blue eyes, and looked like some lovely little sprite from -fairy-land.</p> - -<p>Miss Blanche Oleander, darkly majestic in maize silk and jewels, sat at -Miss Dane's right hand, and eyed her coldly with jealous dislike. Mollie -read her through at the first glance.</p> - -<p>"She hates me already," thought Mr. Walraven's ward; "and your tall -women, with flashing black eyes and blue-black hair, are apt to be good -haters. Very well, Miss Oleander; it shall be just as you like."</p> - -<p>A gentleman sat on her other hand—a handsome young artist—Mr. Hugh -Ingelow, and he listened with an attentive face, while she held her own -with the sarcastic Blanche, and rather got the best of the battle.</p> - -<p>"The little beauty is no dunce," thought Mr. Hugh Ingelow. "Miss Blanche -has found a foe worthy of her best steel."</p> - -<p>And coming to this conclusion, Mr. Ingelow immediately began making -himself agreeable to his fair neighbor. Miss Oleander was a pet aversion -of his own, and this bond of union drew him and her saucy little -antagonist together at once.</p> - -<p>"Rather a sharp set-to, Miss Dane," the artist remarked, in his lazy -voice. "Miss Oleander is a clever woman, but she is matched at last. -I wonder why it is? You two ought to be good friends."</p> - -<p>He glanced significantly at Mr. Walraven, devoting himself to Miss -Oleander, and Mollie gave her white shoulders a little shrug.</p> - -<p>"If we ought, we never will be. Coming events cast their shadows before, -and I know I shall detest a guardianess. Who is that brigandish-looking -gentleman over there, Mr. Ingelow? He has been staring at me steadily -for the last ten minutes."</p> - -<p>"Lost in speechless admiration, no doubt. That gentleman is the -celebrated Doctor Oleander, own cousin to the fair Blanche."</p> - -<p>The gentleman in question certainly was staring, but his staring was -interrupted at this moment by a general uprising and retreat to the -drawing-room. Mr. Ingelow, on whose arm she leaned, led her to the piano -at once.</p> - -<p>"You sing, I know—Mrs. Walraven has told me. Pray favor us with one -song before some less gifted performer secures this vacant seat."</p> - -<p>"What shall it be?" Mollie asked, running her white fingers over the -keys.</p> - -<p>"Whatever you please—whatever you like best. I shall be sure to like -it."</p> - -<p>Mollie sung brilliantly, and sung her best now. There was dead silence; -no one had expected such a glorious voice as this. Hugh Ingelow's rapt -face showed what he felt as Mollie rose.</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane ought to go upon the stage; she would make her fortune," said -a deep voice at her elbow.</p> - -<p>She turned sharply round and met the dark, sinister eyes and pale face -of Dr. Oleander.</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane forgets me," he said, with a low bow, "among so many -presentations. Will you kindly reintroduce me, Mr. Ingelow?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow obeyed with no very good grace; the sparkling, blue-eyed -coquette had made wild work with his artist heart already.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Walraven desired me to bring you to her for a moment," the suave -doctor said, offering his arm. "May I have the honor?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow's eyes flashed angrily, and Mollie, seeing it, and being -a born coquette, took the proffered arm at once.</p> - -<p>It was the merest trifle grandmamma wanted, but it served the doctor's -turn—he had got the beauty of the evening, and he meant to keep her.</p> - -<p>Mollie listened to his endless flow of complimentary small-talk just -as long as she chose, and then glided coolly away to flirt with a third -adorer, the eminent young lawyer, Mr. Joseph Sardonyx.</p> - -<p>Mollie hovered between those three the livelong evening; now it was -the handsome artist, now the polished doctor, now the witty, satirical -lawyer, flirting in the most unpardonable manner.</p> - -<p>Even Mr. Walraven was a little shocked, and undertook, in the course of -the evening, to expostulate.</p> - -<p>"Flirting is all very well, Mollie," he said, "but it really mustn't be -carried too far. People are beginning to make remarks."</p> - -<p>"Are they?" said Mollie; "about which of us, pray? for really and truly, -guardy, you have been flirting the worst of the two."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense, Mollie! You mean Miss Oleander, I suppose? That is no -flirtation."</p> - -<p>"Indeed! then it is worse—it is serious?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, if asking her to marry me be serious. And she has said yes, -Mollie."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane looked at him compassionately.</p> - -<p>"You poor, unfortunate guardy! And you are really going to marry Blanche -Oleander! Well, one comfort is, you will be ready to blow your brains -out six months after; and serve you right, too! Don't let us talk about -it to-night. I am sorry for you, and if you have any sense left you will -soon be sorry for yourself. Here comes Doctor Oleander, and I mean to be -as fascinating as I know how, just to drive the other two to the verge -of madness."</p> - -<p>She danced away, leaving Mr. Walraven pulling his mustache, a picture of -helpless perplexity.</p> - -<p>"I wonder if I have put my foot in it?" he thought, as he looked -across the long room to where Blanche stood, the brilliant center of a -brilliant group. "She is very handsome and very clever—so clever that -I don't for the life of me know whether I made love to her or she to me. -It is too late now for anything but a wedding or heavy damages, and of -the two evils I prefer the first."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven's dinner-party broke up very late, and Blanche Oleander -went home with her cousin.</p> - -<p>"A pert, forward, bold-faced minx!" Miss Oleander burst out, the moment -they were alone in the carriage. "Guy, what on earth did you mean by -paying her such marked attention all evening?"</p> - -<p>"What did Carl Walraven mean by paying <i>you</i> such marked attention all -evening?" retorted her cousin.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Walraven is no flirt—he means marriage."</p> - -<p>"And I am no flirt—I mean marriage also."</p> - -<p>"Guy, are you mad? Marry that nameless, brazen creature?"</p> - -<p>"Blanche, be civil! Most assuredly I will marry her if she will marry -me."</p> - -<p>"Then you will repent it all the days of your life."</p> - -<p>"Probably. I think I heard Miss Dane making a similar remark to your -affianced about you."</p> - -<p>"The impertinent little wretch! Let her wait until I am Mr. Walraven's -wife!"</p> - -<p>"Vague and terrible! When is it to be?"</p> - -<p>"The wedding? Next month."</p> - -<p>"Poor Walraven! There, Blanche, don't flash up, pray! When you are -married you will want to get blue-eyed Mollie off your hands, so please -transfer her to me, little flash of lightning that she is! I always did -like unbroken colts for the pleasure of taming them."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven was told of her son's approaching marriage the day after -the dinner-party; disapproved, but said nothing. Mollie disapproved, and -said everything.</p> - -<p>"It's of no use talking now, Mollie!" her guardian exclaimed, -impatiently. "I must and will marry Blanche."</p> - -<p>"And, oh! what a pitiable object you will be twelve months after! But -I'll never desert you—never strike my flag to the conqueress. 'The boy -stood on the burning deck.' I'll be a second Casi—what you may call -him? to you. I'll be bride-maid now, and your protector from the lovely -Blanche in the future."</p> - -<p>She kept her word. In spite of Miss Oleander's dislike, she was first -bride-maid when the eventful day arrived.</p> - -<p>But fairer than the bride, fairest of the rosy bevy of bride-maids, -shone blue-eyed Mollie Dane. A party of speechless admirers stood -behind, chief among them Hugh Ingelow.</p> - -<p>The bridal party were drawn up before the surpliced clergyman, and "Who -giveth this woman?" had been asked and answered, and the service was -proceeding in due order when there was a sudden commotion at the door.</p> - -<p>Some one rushed impetuously in, and a voice that rang through the lofty -edifice shouted:</p> - -<p>"Stop! I forbid the marriage!"</p> - -<p>Carl Walraven whirled round aghast. The bride shrieked; the bride-maids -echoed the bride in every note of the gamut—all save Mollie; and she, -like the bridegroom, had recognized the intruder.</p> - -<p>For, tall and gaunt as one of Macbeth's witches, there stood the woman -Miriam!</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<h3>MOLLIE'S CONQUEST.</h3> - - -<p>There was a blank pause; every eye fixed on the towering form of the -specter-like woman.</p> - -<p>"I forbid the marriage!" exclaimed Miriam. "Clergyman, on your peril you -unite those two!"</p> - -<p>"The woman is mad!" cried Carl Walraven, white with rage. "Men, turn her -out!"</p> - -<p>"Stop!" said Mollie—"stop one moment I know this woman, and will see -what she means."</p> - -<p>No one interfered; every one gazed in breathless interest as Miss Dane -quitted her post and confronted the haggard apparition. The woman -uttered a cry at sight of her, and caught her impetuously by the arm.</p> - -<p>"Mad girl! have you forgotten what I told you? Would you marry that -man?"</p> - -<p>"Marry what man? What do you mean? I am not going to marry any man -to-day. It is you who have gone mad, I think."</p> - -<p>"Why, then, do you wear those bridal robes?"</p> - -<p>"Bride-maid robes, if you please. Gracious me, Miriam, you didn't think -I was going to marry Mr. Walraven, did you?"</p> - -<p>Miriam passed her hand over her brow with a bewildered air.</p> - -<p>"Whom, then, is it, if not you?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Blanche Oleander, of course, as anyone could have told you, if -you had taken the trouble to ask before rushing in here and making a -scene."</p> - -<p>"I only heard last night he was to be married," Miriam said, with a -bewildered face, "and took it for granted that it must be you."</p> - -<p>"Then you must have had a poorer opinion of my taste than I should have -thought it possible for you to have. Come in and beg everybody's pardon, -and tell them it was all a shocking mistake."</p> - -<p>"One word first: Are you well and happy?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly well, and happy as a queen. Come on; there is no time to -lose. People are staring dreadfully, and the bride is glaring with rage. -Quick—come!"</p> - -<p>She flitted back to her place, and Miriam, stepping forward, addressed -the assembly:</p> - -<p>"I ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen. I have made a mistake. I -thought the bride was Miss Dane. I beg the ceremony will proceed."</p> - -<p>She pulled a veil she wore down over her gaunt face, and with the last -word hurried out and disappeared. Mr. Walraven, suppressing his rage, -turned to the minister.</p> - -<p>"Proceed!" he said, impatiently, "and make haste."</p> - -<p>The bride, very white with anger and mortification, resumed her place; -the ceremony recommenced. This time there was no interruption, and in -ten minutes the twain were one flesh.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later they were back at the Walraven mansion to eat the -wedding-breakfast, and then the new-made Mrs. Walraven, with an eye that -flashed and a voice that rang, turned upon her liege lord and demanded -an explanation. Mr. Walraven shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly.</p> - -<p>"My dearest Blanche, I have none to give. The woman must be mad. -Speak to Mollie."</p> - -<p>"Carl Walraven, do not dare to deceive me on my wedding-day. You know -more of this than you choose to say."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Walraven, do not raise your angel voice to such a pitch for -nothing. I said before, speak to Mollie. I say again, speak to Mollie; -and here she is."</p> - -<p>"So she is," said Miss Dane, sauntering in. "Do you want me to allay -a post-nuptial storm already? Auspicious beginning! What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Who was that woman?" demanded the bride.</p> - -<p>"A very old friend of mine, madame."</p> - -<p>"Why did she come to the church and try to stop the marriage?"</p> - -<p>"Because she thought I was the bride. She said so, didn't she? And being -very well acquainted with me, she was moved with compassion for the -deluded man and came to warn him in time. I explained her little -mistake, as you saw, and she apologized handsomely, and—exit, Miriam. -Isn't that satisfactory?"</p> - -<p>"Are you speaking the truth?"</p> - -<p>Miss Dane laid her hand upon her heart, and bowed profoundly.</p> - -<p>"Doesn't Mr. Walraven know her?"</p> - -<p>"That is a question I can not take it upon myself to answer. Mr. -Walraven is of age. Let him speak for himself."</p> - -<p>"I told you before," said the bridegroom, angrily. "Let us have no more -about it, Blanche, or I may chance to lose my temper."</p> - -<p>He turned on his heel and walked off whistling, and the bride, in her -snowy robes and laces, went down to breakfast, trying vainly to clear -her stormy brow. Mollie puckered up her rosy lips into a shrill whistle.</p> - -<p>"And this is their wedding-day! I told him how it would be, but of -course nobody ever minds what I say. Poor guardy! what ever would become -of him traveling alone with that woman! How thankful he ought to be that -he has me to go along and take care of him!"</p> - -<p>For Mollie had made it an express stipulation, contrary to all -precedent, that she was to accompany the happy pair on their bridal -tour. Miss Oleander's ante-nuptial objections had been faint; Mrs. -Walraven, less scrupulous, turned upon her husband at the eleventh hour, -just previous to starting, and insisted that she should be left at home.</p> - -<p>"It will be ridiculous in the extreme," exclaimed the bride, "having -your ward traveling with us! Let her remain at home with your mother."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven looked his bride steadfastly in the eye for a moment, then -sat down deliberately.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Mrs. Walraven," said Mr. Walraven, perfectly cool, "you -have made a little mistake, I fancy. Permit me to rectify it. Wearing -the breeches is a vulgar expression, I am aware, and only admissible -in low circles; still, it so forcibly expresses what I am trying to -express, that you will allow me to use it. You are trying to don the -inexpressibles, Blanche, but it won't do. My ward goes with us on our -bridal tour, or there shall be no bridal tour at all. There! you have it -in plain English, Mrs. Carl Walraven!"</p> - -<p>Five minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Walraven descended to the carriage, Mrs. -Walraven with her veil drawn down, and making her adieus in a smothered -sort of voice. Mr. Walraven handed in his ward next, then followed; the -coachman flourished his whip and they were gone.</p> - -<p>The happy pair were merely going to Washington. Mr. Walraven had had a -surfeit of Europe, and Washington, this sparkling winter weather, was at -its gayest and best. The Walraven party, with plethoric purses, plunged -into the midst of the gayety at once.</p> - -<p>"I like this sort of thing," said Mollie to her guardian; "the theater, -and the opera, and a ball, and two or three parties every night. I like -dancing until broad daylight, and going to bed at six in the morning, -and getting up to breakfast at one. I like matinees at three in the -afternoon, and dinners with seventeen courses, and going to the White -House, and shaking hands with the President, and sailing around the East -Room, and having people point me out as the beauty of the season. It's -new and it's nice, and I never get tired, or pale, or limpy, like most -of the girls. I never enjoyed myself so much in my life, and you would -say the same thing, guardy, only you're in your honey-moon, and not -capable of enjoying anything."</p> - -<p>"But, Mollie," Mr. Walraven remonstrated, "it isn't right to flirt so -much as you do. There's young Ingelow. The way you devoted yourself to -that young man last night set everybody talking."</p> - -<p>"Let 'em talk," responded Miss Dane, loftily. "When Mr. Ingelow followed -me all the way from New York, I think it was the very least I could do -in common politeness. He found it a waste and howling wilderness without -me—yes, he did; he said so. And then, Mr. Walraven, I like him."</p> - -<p>"You like him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, ever and ever so much; and I'm dreadfully sorry for him, because -I know it'll break his heart when I refuse him."</p> - -<p>"He hasn't proposed yet, then?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet, but I expect it shortly. I know the symptoms. He looked almost -as sheepish last night as you used to before you proposed to Miss -Oleander."</p> - -<p>It was quite true; the handsome young artist had followed Miss Dane to -Washington. He had hardly known how much he was in love with her until -she was gone, and all young-ladydom grew flat, stale, and insipid as -dish-water.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow, of rather an indolent temperament, disposed to take things -easy and let the world slide, was astonished himself at the sudden heat -and ardor this little girl with the sunny smile had created within him.</p> - -<p>"It isn't her beauty," thought the handsome artist, "although she is -pretty as an angel; it isn't her blue eyes and her golden hair, for I -see blue eyes and golden hair every day of my life, and never give them -a second thought; it isn't her singing or dancing, for half the girls I -know sing and dance as well; and it can't be her spirited style of -conversation, for that's not so very new, either. Then what is it?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow, at this point, always fell into such a morass of pros and -cons that his brain grew dazed, and he gave the problem up altogether. -But the great, incontrovertible fact remained—he was headlong in love -with Mollie, and had followed her to Washington expressly to tell her -so.</p> - -<p>"For if I wait, and she returns to New York," mused Mr. Ingelow, "I will -have Oleander and Sardonyx both neck and neck in the race. Here there is -a fair field and no favor, and here I will try my luck."</p> - -<p>But Mr. Ingelow was mistaken, for here in his "fair field" appeared the -most formidable rival he could possibly have had—a rival who seemed -likely to eclipse himself and Oleander and Sardonyx at one fell swoop.</p> - -<p>At the presidential levees, on public promenades and drives, Miss Dane -had noticed a tall, white-haired, aristocratic-looking gentleman -attentively watching her as if fascinated. Every place she appeared in -public this distinguished-looking gentleman hovered in the background -like her shadow.</p> - -<p>"Who is that venerable old party," she demanded, impatiently, "that -haunts me like an uneasy ghost? Can I be a lost daughter of his, with a -strawberry mark somewhere, or do I bear an unearthly resemblance to some -lovely being he murdered in early life? Who is he?"</p> - -<p>And the answer came, nearly taking away Cricket's breath:</p> - -<p>"Sir Roger Trajenna, the great Welsh baronet, worth nobody knows how -many millions, and with castles by the dozen in his own land of -mountains."</p> - -<p>It was Mr. Ingelow who gave her the information, and the occasion was -a brilliant ball. Mollie had often heard of the Welsh baronet, but this -was the first time she had encountered him at a ball or party.</p> - -<p>"I thought that Sir Roger Trajenna never accepted invitations," she -said, opening and shutting her fan. "This is the first time I ever saw -him at a private party."</p> - -<p>"I think I know the reason," responded Mr. Ingelow. "Rumor sets him down -as the last in Miss Dane's list of killed and wounded."</p> - -<p>"So I have heard," said Mollie, coolly; "but it is too good to be true. -I should dearly love to be my lady and live in a Welsh castle."</p> - -<p>"With sixty-five years and a hoary head for a husband?"</p> - -<p>"How painfully accurate you are! With his countless millions and his -ancestral castles, what does a little disparity of years signify?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane," asked Mr. Ingelow, very earnestly, "would you accept that -old man if he asked you?"</p> - -<p>"My dear Mr. Ingelow, what a dreadfully point-blank question! So very -embarrassing! I thought you knew better!"</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon. But, Miss Dane, as a sincere friend, may I ask an -answer?"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, as a friend, I can't say for certain, but I am afraid—I am -very much afraid I would say—"</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane, permit me!" exclaimed a voice at her elbow—"Sir Roger -Trajenna, Miss Dane."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane turned calmly round to her hostess and <i>the</i> guest of the -evening, and graciously received the venerable baronet's profound bow. -At the same instant the music of a waltz struck up, to the jealous -artist's infinite relief.</p> - -<p>"Now, then, Miss Dane, if you are ready," said Mr. Ingelow, rather -imperiously.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Ingelow," replied Miss Dane, with infinite calm; "I am -really too much fatigued for this waltz. Sir Roger, some one is singing -yonder. I should like to hear him."</p> - -<p>And under Mr. Ingelow's angry eyes, she took the enraptured old -baronet's arm and walked away.</p> - -<p>"The hoary dotard!" muttered the artist, glaring and grinding his teeth; -"the sixty-five-year-old imbecile! It is the first time I ever heard her -decline a waltz under the plea of fatigue. She's a heartless coquette, -that Mollie Dane, and I am a fool to waste a second thought upon her."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane danced no more that evening, and Sir Roger never left her -side. She talked to him until his old eyes sparkled; she smiled upon him -until his brain swam with delight.</p> - -<p>And that was but the beginning. The torments Mr. Hugh Ingelow suffered -for the ensuing two weeks words are too weak to describe. To cap the -climax, Dr. Oleander suddenly appeared upon the scene and glowered under -bent black brows at coquettish Mollie.</p> - -<p>"The idea of being civil to anything so commonplace as a mere doctor," -Miss Dane said to her guardian, when taken to task for the airs she -assumed, "when Welsh baronets are ready to go down on their knees and -worship the ground I walk on! If he doesn't like the way he is treated, -he knows the way back to New York. I never sent for him to come here."</p> - -<p>Sir Roger's devotion was inexpressible. No wonder Mollie was dazzled. -The city was on the <i>qui vive</i>. The piquant little New York beauty, whom -the men adored and the women abused, had caught the golden prize. Would -he really ask her to become Lady Trajenna, or would the glamour wear off -and leave the saucy little flirt stranded high and dry?</p> - -<p>The last night of Mr. Walraven's stay in Washington settled that -question. They were at a grand reception, Mrs. Walraven magnificent in -moiré and diamonds, and Mollie floating about in a cloud of misty pink, -and sparkling pearls, and amber tresses. There, of course, was Sir -Roger, and there (also, of course) were Dr. Oleander and Hugh Ingelow -in a state of frantic jealousy.</p> - -<p>It had come, long ere this, to be a settled thing that the Welsh baronet -should never leave her side, except while she was dancing. So that when, -a little before supper, they strolled out on the piazza, it was nothing -surprising or remarkable.</p> - -<p>The winter night was windless and mild. Sir Roger's asthmatic and -rheumatic afflictions were quite safe in the warm atmosphere. Moonlight -flooded everything with its misty glory, stars spangled the sky, music -came softened by distance from the ball-room—all was conducive to love -and to love-making. Sir Roger Trajenna, inspired by the music, the -moonlight, and the charming little beauty beside him, there and then -laid name, heart, and fortune at Miss Dane's fair feet.</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Even Mollie felt a little fluttered, now that the -time had come.</p> - -<p>"I know the disparity of years is great," the baronet said, quite -trembling in his eagerness; "but my whole existence will be devoted to -you; every pleasure wealth can purchase shall be yours; every wish that -I can anticipate shall be anticipated. You will be my darling, my idol. -I love you passionately. Say not, then, I am too old."</p> - -<p>"I don't," said Mollie—"I don't mind your age in the least. I rather -dislike young men; I've had such a surfeit of them."</p> - -<p>"Then I may hope?" breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, Sir Roger, you may hope. I am not in love with anybody else -that I know of."</p> - -<p>"And you will be my wife?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, that's another thing! I don't seem to care about being married, -somehow. You must give me time, Sir Roger. Come, let us go in to supper. -I will tell you by and by."</p> - -<p>"As you please, my beautiful Mollie. Only don't keep me waiting too -long, and let your answer be 'yes' when it comes."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane partook of supper with a very good appetite, accepted Mr. -Ingelow for a waltz and Dr. Oleander for a quadrille, smiled sweetly and -graciously upon both, and took Sir Roger's arm, at the close of the -ball, for the carriage.</p> - -<p>"Well, Miss Dane—Mollie!" the baronet said, eagerly, "have you decided? -What is it to be—yes or no?"</p> - -<p>And Mollie looked up in his face with those starry, azure eyes, and that -bewildering smile, and answered sweetly:</p> - -<p>"Yes!"</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<h3>MOLLIE'S MISCHIEF.</h3> - - -<p>Miss Dane returned to New York "engaged," and with the fact known to -none save herself and the enraptured Welshman.</p> - -<p>"There is no need to be in a hurry," the young lady said to her -elderly adorer; "and I want to be safely at home before I overwhelm -them with the news. There is always such fussing and talking made over -engagements, and an engagement is dreadfully humdrum and doweryish -anyhow."</p> - -<p>That was what Miss Dane said. What she thought was entirely another -matter.</p> - -<p>"I do want Doctor Oleander and Mr. Sardonyx to propose; and if they -discover I've accepted the baronet, they won't. I am dying to see -the wry faces they will make over 'No, thanks!' Then there is Hugh -Ingelow—"</p> - -<p>But Mollie's train of wicked thoughts was apt to break off at this -point, and a remorseful expression cloud her blue eyes.</p> - -<p>"Poor Hugh! Poor fellow! It's a little too bad to treat him so; and -he's dreadfully fond of me, too. But, then, it's impossible to help it; -of course it is. I want to be rich, and wear diamonds, and travel over -the world, and be 'My Lady!' and poor, dear Hugh couldn't keep a cat -properly. Ah! what a pity all the nice men, and the handsome men, must -be poor!"</p> - -<p>Faithfully in the train of the Walraven party returned Mollie's adorers. -No one was surprised at the continued devotion of Messrs. Ingelow and -Oleander; but every one was surprised at Sir Roger Trajenna.</p> - -<p>"Is it possible that proud old man has really fallen seriously in love -with that yellow-haired, flighty child?" asked Mrs. Carl Walraven in -angry surprise. "He was attentive at Washington, certainly; but I -fancied his absurd old eyes were only caught for the moment. If it -should prove serious, what a thing it will be for her! and these -antediluvians, in their dotage, will do such ridiculous things. My -Lady Trajenna! Detestable little minx! I should like to poison her!"</p> - -<p>Miss Dane carried on her flirtations, despite her engagement, with her -three more youthful admirers.</p> - -<p>Now and then Sir Roger, looking on with doting, but disapproving eyes, -ventured on a feeble remonstrance.</p> - -<p>"It is unfair to yourself and unfair to me, my darling," he said. "Every -smile you bestow upon them is a stab to me. Do let me speak to Mr. -Walraven, and end it at once."</p> - -<p>But still Mollie refused to consent.</p> - -<p>"No, no, Sir Roger; let me have my own way a little longer. There is no -need of your being jealous. I don't care a straw for the three of them. -Only it is such fun. Wait a little longer."</p> - -<p>Of course the fair-haired despot had her way.</p> - -<p>The second week of their return Mr. and Mrs. Walraven were "at home" to -their friends, and once more the spacious halls and stair-ways were -ablaze with illumination, and the long ranges of rooms, opening one into -another, were radiant with light, and flowers, and music, and brilliant -ladies.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven, superb in her bridal robes, stood beside her husband, -receiving their guests. And Miss Mollie Dane, in shimmering silk, that -blushed as she walked, and clusters of water-lilies drooping from her -tinseled curls, was as lovely as Venus rising from the sea-foam.</p> - -<p>Here, there, everywhere, she flashed like a gleam of light; waltzing -with the dreamy-eyed artist, Hugh Ingelow, hanging on the arm of Dr. -Oleander, chattering like a magpie with Lawyer Sardonyx, and anon -laughing at all three with Sir Roger Trajenna.</p> - -<p>You might as well have tried to regulate the vagaries of a comet—as -well guess from what quarter the fickle wind would next blow.</p> - -<p>"Women are all puzzles," said Dr. Oleander, in quiet despair to Mrs. -Walraven. "That is a truism long and tried; but, by Jove! Miss Mollie -Dane puts the toppers on the lot. I never met with such a bewildering -sprite."</p> - -<p>"Odious, artful creature!" hissed the bride of Carl Walraven. "It is -all her crafty scheming to attract the attention of that hoary-headed -simpleton, Sir Roger Trajenna. If you are in love with her, Guy (and how -you can is a mystery to me), why don't you propose at once?"</p> - -<p>"Because I am afraid, madame."</p> - -<p>"Afraid!" scornfully—"afraid of a goosey girl of seventeen! I never -took you for a born idiot before, Guy Oleander."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, my fair relative! But it is quite as disagreeable to be refused -by a 'goosey girl of seventeen' as by a young lady of seven-and-twenty. -Your age, my dear Blanche, is it not?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind my age!" retorted Mrs. Walraven, sharply. "My age has -nothing to do with it. If you don't ask Mollie Dane to-night, Hugh -Ingelow or James Sardonyx will to-morrow, and the chances are ten to -one she accepts the first one who proposes."</p> - -<p>"Indeed! Why?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, for the sake of being engaged, being a heroine, being talked about. -She likes to be talked about, this bewildering fairy of yours. She isn't -in love with any of you; that I can see. It isn't in her shallow nature, -I suppose, to be in love with anybody but her own precious self."</p> - -<p>"My dear Mrs. Walraven, are you not a little severe? Poor, blue-eyed -Mollie! And you think, if I speak to-night, I stand a chance?"</p> - -<p>"A better chance than if you defer it. She may say 'yes' on the impulse -of the moment. If she does, trust me to make her keep her word."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"That is my affair. Ah! what, was that?"</p> - -<p>The cousins were standing near one of the long, richly draped windows, -and the silken hangings had fluttered suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Nothing but the wind," replied Dr. Oleander, carelessly. "Very well, -Blanche, I take you at your word. I will ask Mollie to-night."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven nodded, and turned to go.</p> - -<p>"Ask her as quickly as possible. You are to dance the polka quadrille -with her, are you not? After the polka quadrille, then. And now let us -part, or they will begin to think we are hatching another Gunpowder -Plot."</p> - -<p>"Or Mr. Carl Walraven may be jealous," suggested Dr. Oleander, with an -unpleasant laugh. "I say, Blanche, the golden-haired Mollie couldn't be -his daughter, could she?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven's black eyes flashed.</p> - -<p>"Whoever she is, the sooner she is out of this house the better. I hate -her, Doctor Oleander—your Fair One with the Golden Locks, and I could -go to her funeral with the greatest pleasure!"</p> - -<p>The plotting pair separated. Hardly were they gone when the silken -curtains parted and a bright face, framed in yellow ringlets, peeped -out, sparkling with mischief.</p> - -<p>"Two women in one house, two cats over one mouse, never agree," quoth -Mollie. "Listeners never hear any good of themselves, but, oh! the -opportunity was irresistible. So Doctor Guy Oleander is going to -propose, and Mollie Dane is to say 'yes' on the impulse of the moment, -and Mamma Blanche is to make her stick to her word! And it's all to -happen after the polka quadrille! Very well; I'm ready. If Doctor -Oleander and his cousin don't find their match, my name's not Mollie!"</p> - -<p>Miss Dane consulted her jeweled tablets, and discovered that the polka -quadrille was the very next in order.</p> - -<p>Shaking out her rosy skirts, she fluttered away, mercilessly bent on -manslaughter. Every one made way for the daughter of the house, and in -a moment she was beside Dr. Oleander, holding up the inlaid tablets, and -smiling her brightest in his dazzled eyes.</p> - -<p>"Such disgraceful conduct, Doctor Oleander! I have been searching for -you everywhere. I appeal to you, Colonel Marshland; he engaged me for -this quadrille. There is the music now, and he leaves me to hunt the -house for him."</p> - -<p>"Unpardonable," said the gallant colonel. "At his age I should have -known better. Oleander, make your peace if you can."</p> - -<p>The colonel made his bow, and then he walked away.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander drew her arm inside his own, bending very low over the -sparkling sprite.</p> - -<p>"You are not implacable, I trust, Miss Mollie. It was all the colonel's -fault, I assure you."</p> - -<p>Mollie shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Of course you say so. Oh, don't wear that imploring face! I forgive -you; but sin no more. There! they are waiting—come!"</p> - -<p>All through the dance Miss Dane sparkled as she had never sparkled -Before. Ere the quadrille was over, Dr. Oleander was ten fathoms deeper -in love than ever.</p> - -<p>"It is so very hot here!" Mollie exclaimed, impatiently—"perfectly -stifling! Do let us go somewhere and get cool."</p> - -<p>"Let us go into the conservatory," said Dr. Oleander, delightedly, quite -unconscious that his fair enslaver was playing into his hand. "We are -sure to find solitude and coolness there."</p> - -<p>The conservatory was delightfully cool, after the African temperature of -the ball-room. Alabaster lamps shed a pale sort of moonlight over the -sleeping flowers, and splashing fountains, and marble goddesses.</p> - -<p>Miss Dane sunk down under a large orange-tree and began fanning herself -languidly.</p> - -<p>"How nice—this half light, these perfumed roses, those tinkling -water-falls, music, and solitude! Do I look like Love among the Roses, -Doctor Oleander?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; like Love, like Venus, like everything that is bright, and -beautiful, and irresistible, Miss Dane!"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur overwhelms me! Why, good gracious, sir! What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>For Dr. Oleander had actually caught her in his arms and was pouring -forth a passionate declaration of love.</p> - -<p>"Goodness me! Release me instantly! How dare you, sir? Have you taken -leave of your senses, Doctor Oleander?"</p> - -<p>"I am mad for love of you, beautiful Mollie! I adore you with my whole -heart!"</p> - -<p>"Do you, indeed?" said Mollie, looking angrily at her ruffled plumage. -"See my dress—not fit to be seen! I'm surprised at you, Doctor -Oleander!"</p> - -<p>"Mollie, I love you!"</p> - -<p>"I don't care—that's no reason why you should spoil my lovely dress, -and make me a perfect fright. You had no business going on in that -outrageous manner, sir!"</p> - -<p>"But, Mollie! Good heavens! will you listen to me? Never mind your -dress."</p> - -<p>"Never mind my dress?" cried Miss Dane, shrilly. "Doctor Oleander, -you're a perfect bear, and I've a good mind never to speak to you again -as long as I live! Let us go back to the ball-room. If I had known you -were going to act so, I'd have seen you considerably inconvenienced -before I came with you here."</p> - -<p>"Not until you answer me, Mollie."</p> - -<p>"Answer you? Answer you what? You haven't asked me any question."</p> - -<p>"I told you I loved you."</p> - -<p>"Well," testily, "you don't call that a question?"</p> - -<p>"Mollie, will you love me?"</p> - -<p>"No—of course not! Oh, what a torment you are! Do let us go back!"</p> - -<p>"Never!" exclaimed Dr. Oleander, gathering hope—"never, Mollie, until -you answer me!"</p> - -<p>He caught both her hands and held them fast, Mollie struggling in vain.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, dear, what will I say? And there—if there isn't some one -coming in! Let me go, for pity's sake, and I'll answer you—to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"To-night, Mollie—to-night!"</p> - -<p>"I won't—there!" wrenching her hands free and springing up. "Come -to-morrow, between twelve and one, and you shall have your answer."</p> - -<p>She darted away, and almost into the arms of Mr. Hugh Ingelow. That -gentleman looked suspiciously from her to Dr. Oleander, emerging from -the shadow of the orange-tree.</p> - -<p>"Am I <i>de trop</i>, Miss Dane? I thought to find the conservatory -deserted."</p> - -<p>"And so it will be, in a minute," said Mollie, familiarly taking his -arm. "They are going to supper out yonder, and I am almost famished. -Take me down."</p> - -<p>"And, if I can, I will make you follow Guy Oleander's lead before I -release you," was the mental addition of the naughty coquette.</p> - -<p>It was no difficult task to accomplish. A powder magazine with the train -laid could not have needed a smaller spark to cause its explosion. Those -few words elevated the young artist at once to the loftiest pinnacle of -bliss.</p> - -<p>"She has just refused Oleander, and I may stand a chance," he thought. -"I'll ask her, by Jove! after supper."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow kept his word. He paid Miss Dane the most marked attention -throughout the repast, filled her plate with delicacies and her ears -with compliments. And Mollie was sweet as summer cherries, and took his -arm when it was over, and let him lead her into a retired nook where -amber curtains shut them in; and there, pale and agitated, the poor -fellow said his say and waited for his sentence.</p> - -<p>Mollie's wicked heart smote her. She liked this handsome young artist -more than she was aware of, and the first twinge of remorse for her -merciless coquetry filled her mind.</p> - -<p>But it was too late to pause in her mischief-making, and the fun ahead -was too tempting.</p> - -<p>"Speak, Miss Dane," Mr. Ingelow implored: "for pity's sake, don't say -you have led me on only to jilt me in cold blood at the last!"</p> - -<p>"Rather strong language, Mr. Ingelow," said Mollie, coolly pulling to -pieces a rose. "I have not led you on, have I? I have been friendly with -you because I liked you—as I have been with a dozen others."</p> - -<p>"Then I am to consider myself rejected, Miss Dane?"</p> - -<p>He stood up before her, very white, with eyes of unspeakable reproach.</p> - -<p>"What a hurry you are in!" said Mollie, pettishly. "Give me until -to-morrow. I will think it over. Between twelve and one I will be at -home; come then and you shall have your answer. There! let us go back to -the ball-room. I have promised this redowa to Mr. Sardonyx."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow, in profound silence, led Miss Dane back to the ball-room, -where they found the elegant lawyer searching for his partner.</p> - -<p>"I thought you had forgotten me, Miss Dane," he said, taking her off at -once.</p> - -<p>"Impossible, Mr. Sardonyx," laughed Mollie. "So sorry to have kept you -waiting; but better late than never."</p> - -<p>That dance was the old story over again. At its close the lawyer was so -bewitched that he hardly knew whether he stood on his head or heels.</p> - -<p>"It is coming!" thought wicked Mollie, looking sideways at him, "and -only wants a proper place to come in."</p> - -<p>Aloud: "It is so warm here—I feel quite faint, really. Suppose we step -out on the piazza a moment?"</p> - -<p>An instant later and they emerged through the drawing-room window to the -piazza, Mollie wrapped in a scarlet shawl, along which her bright curls -waved like sunshine. The night was still, warm, and moonlight; the -twinkling lights of the great city shone like a shower of stars.</p> - -<p>And here, for the third time that eventful night, Mollie Dane listened -to an ardent avowal of love. For the third time the long lashes drooped -over the mischievous eyes.</p> - -<p>"This is so sudden—so unexpected—Mr. Sardonyx! I feel highly -complimented, of course; but still you must pardon me if I do not reply -at once. Give me until to-morrow, at noon. Come then and you will be -answered."</p> - -<p>She fluttered away like a spirit with the last words, leaving the -hopeful lawyer standing in ecstasy. Of course she meant to accept him, -or she would have refused him on the spot.</p> - -<p>For the rest of the time Miss Dane was exclusively the Welsh baronet's, -and listened with unruffled serenity to his reproaches.</p> - -<p>"You are driving me distracted, Mollie," he said, piteously. "You must -let me speak to your guardian without further delay. I insist upon it."</p> - -<p>"Very well," replied Miss Dane, calmly. "As you please, certainly. You -may tell him to-morrow. Let me see: at noon Mr. Walraven will be at home -and alone. Come at noon."</p> - -<p>The party was over—a brilliant success.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven had been admired, and Miss Dane had scandalized the best -metropolitan society worse than ever.</p> - -<p>"And, oh!" thought that wicked witch, as she laid her curly head on the -pillow in the gray dawn, "won't there be fun by and by?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven descended to breakfast at half past ten, and announced her -intention of spending the remainder of the morning shopping.</p> - -<p>Mollie, in a charming demi-toilet, and looking as fresh as though -she had not danced incessantly the whole night before, heard the -announcement with secret satisfaction.</p> - -<p>"Are you going, too, Mollie?" asked her guardian.</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie; "I'm going to stay at home and entertain Sir Roger -Trajenna. He is coming to luncheon."</p> - -<p>"Seems to me, Cricket," said Mr. Walraven, "Sir Roger Trajenna hangs -after you like your shadow. What does it mean?"</p> - -<p>"It means—making your charming ward Lady Trajenna; if he can, of -course."</p> - -<p>"But he's as old as the hills, Mollie."</p> - -<p>"Then I'll be a fascinating young widow all the sooner."</p> - -<p>"Disgusting!" exclaimed Mrs. Carl Walraven. "You are perfectly -heartless, Mollie Dane!"</p> - -<p>She swept from the room to dress for her shopping expedition. It was -almost twelve when she was fairly off, and then Mollie summoned her maid -and gave her sundry directions with a very serious face.</p> - -<p>"I am going to spend the morning in the blue room, Margaret," she said; -"and I expect four gentlemen to call—Sir Roger Trajenna, Mr. Ingelow, -Doctor Oleander, and Mr. Sardonyx."</p> - -<p>"Yes, miss," said Margaret.</p> - -<p>"Sir Roger you will show at once into the blue room," pursued the young -lady; "Mr. Ingelow into the library: Doctor Oleander into the -drawing-room, and Mr. Sardonyx into the breakfast-parlor. Do you -understand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, miss," said Margaret.</p> - -<p>"Very well, then; that will do. I am going to the blue room now, and -don't you forget my directions, or I shall box your ears."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane sailed off. Margaret looked after her with a queer face.</p> - -<p>"She'd do it, too! I wonder what all this means? Some piece of mischief, -I'll be bound!"</p> - -<p>The baronet arrived, prompt to the hour, and was ushered at once into -the presence of his enchantress. Fifteen minutes after came Dr. -Oleander, shown by demure Margaret into the drawing-room; and scarcely -was he seated when ting-a-ling! went the bell, and the door was opened -to Mr. Hugh Ingelow. Mr. Ingelow was left to compose himself in the -library. Then there was a pause, and then, last of all, arrived Mr. -Sardonyx.</p> - -<p>The blue room bell rang. Margaret ran up and met her mistress at the -door.</p> - -<p>"Are they all down-stairs, Margaret?" in a whisper.</p> - -<p>"Yes, miss."</p> - -<p>"Then show them up in the order they arrived. I don't want Sir Roger to -know they've been kept waiting."</p> - -<p>Margaret obeyed. In two minutes she opened the blue-room door, and -announced Dr. Oleander.</p> - -<p>The doctor advanced with an expectant smile; recoiled, a second later, -at sight of the baronet, with a frown.</p> - -<p>"Good-day, doctor," said Miss Dane, politely. "Happy to see you. Lovely -morning, is it not?"</p> - -<p>The doctor dropped into a seat. Hardly had he taken it, when—"Mr. -Ingelow!" exclaimed Margaret, opening the door.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow started, and stared at sight of the trio, where he had -looked for but one.</p> - -<p>Miss Dane greeted him with smiling cordiality, and there was nothing for -it but to sink into a chair.</p> - -<p>Before Mollie's last word of welcome was uttered, the door opened for -the third time, and enter Mr. Sardonyx.</p> - -<p>The tableau was indescribably ludicrous. The four men glared at one -another vengefully, and then four pairs of eyes turned indignantly upon -Miss Dane for an explanation. They had it.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," said Miss Dane, with her sweetest smile, "I invited you -here this morning because you are very particular friends, and I wished -to give you an agreeable surprise before all the avenue knows it. Doctor -Oleander, Mr. Ingelow, Mr. Sardonyx, allow me to present to you my -plighted husband, Sir Roger Trajenna."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<h3>MOLLIE'S BRIDAL.</h3> - - -<p>Imagine that tableau!</p> - -<p>For an instant there was dead silence; a bomb bursting in their midst -could hardly have startled them more. Mollie dared not look in their -faces, lest the inward laughter that convulsed her should burst forth.</p> - -<p>Sir Roger Trajenna, a little surprised, yet bowed with gentlemanly ease, -while the three young men sat perfectly thunder-struck.</p> - -<p>The dead blank was broken by Dr. Oleander.</p> - -<p>"Permit me to congratulate Sir Roger Trajenna," he said, bowing to -that gentleman; "and permit me to thank Miss Dane for this exceedingly -unexpected mark of preference. If it is ever in my power to return your -condescension, Miss Mollie, believe me you will find my memory good. I -wish you all good-morning."</p> - -<p>His immovable face had not changed, but his gray eyes flashed one -bright, fierce glance at Mollie, that said, plainly as words, "I will -have revenge for this insult as sure as my name is Guy Oleander".</p> - -<p>But saucy Mollie only answered that sinister look by her brightest -glance and smile; and taking his hat, Dr. Oleander strode away.</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Sardonyx arose. He had been sitting like a statue, but -the words and departure of his fellow-victim seemed to restore -consciousness.</p> - -<p>"Am I to understand, Miss Dane, that this is the answer you meant when -you invited me here to-day?" he sternly asked.</p> - -<p>"Did I really invite you? Oh, yes! Of course, Mr. Sardonyx, it must -have been. I purposely kept my engagement secret since my return from -Washington in order to give you an agreeable surprise."</p> - -<p>"I am exceedingly obliged to you. Believe me, I will prove my gratitude -if ever opportunity offers."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane bowed and smiled. Sir Roger looked hopelessly bewildered. Mr. -Sardonyx took his hat.</p> - -<p>"Farewell, Miss Dane, and many thanks."</p> - -<p>He was gone. Hugh Ingelow alone remained—Hugh Ingelow, white and cold -as a dead man. Mollie's heart smote her cruelly for the second time at -sight of him. He arose as the lawyer disappeared.</p> - -<p>"You have nothing more to say to me, Miss Dane?"</p> - -<p>Mollie lifted her eyebrows.</p> - -<p>"My dear Mr. Ingelow, what should I possibly have to say to you, except -that we will always be most happy to see you—Sir Roger and I?"</p> - -<p>"Always," echoed the baronet, with a stately bend.</p> - -<p>"You are very kind. Good-day, Sir Roger Trajenna. Congratulations on so -eminently suitable a match would be preposterous. Farewell, Miss Dane. -I, too, know how to remember!"</p> - -<p>With the words he passed out. Sir Roger turned with something like a -frown to his bride-elect.</p> - -<p>"What does it mean, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>Mollie laughed—such a gay, girlish laugh!</p> - -<p>"Can't you see, Sir Roger? They are nearly frantic with jealousy, the -three of them. What fun it was to see them sitting there and scowling -at one another!"</p> - -<p>"But they threatened, did they not?" the baronet asked, still frowning.</p> - -<p>"Did they? They said they would remember, and I think it is very likely -they will. Poor fellows! It was natural, and I don't mind."</p> - -<p>"And when am I to speak to your guardian now?"</p> - -<p>"As soon as you please—after luncheon, if you like. I don't suppose -he'll object."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," Sir Roger said, proudly; "and then, my dearest, when am -I to have my lovely little wife?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't know! It isn't well to be in any hurry. Wait a year or -two."</p> - -<p>"A year or two!" cried Sir Roger, in much the same tone as if she had -said a century or two. "Impossible—utterly impossible, Mollie!"</p> - -<p>"Well, then, a month or two. I am not in any hurry to be married, and I -don't see why you should be."</p> - -<p>"My darling little Mollie, if you loved me half as much as I love you, -you would understand. And you will really be mine in a month?"</p> - -<p>"Or two. Yes, if you insist upon it. If I am to be Lady Trajenna first -or last, it may as well be first, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"And you will not change your mind?"</p> - -<p>"Of course not," said Mollie, indignantly. "When Mollie Dane gives her -word, the laws of the Medes and—what's their names?—are nothing to it. -Don't tease, Sir Roger. When I promise a thing, it's as good as done."</p> - -<p>Mollie danced away to the piano, and held her infatuated baronet -spell-bound until luncheon time.</p> - -<p>At table Mr. and Mrs. Walraven met them, and immediately after the meal -the baronet formally requested the pleasure of a private interview.</p> - -<p>"Can he really be going to ask for Mollie?" thought Mr. Walraven. "Upon -my word, if he is, this is quite a new role for me—playing the part of -venerable parent, and that to a white-haired gentleman who numbers a -round score more years than myself."</p> - -<p>He led the way to his study, followed by the baronet. And Sir Roger came -to the point at once, calmly, proudly, with grave dignity.</p> - -<p>"The disparity of years is great, I know," he said. "But if she is -willing to overlook that objection, you surely may. There is no other -drawback that I am aware of. A Trajenna, of Trajenna, might mate with -the highest in England."</p> - -<p>He lifted his white, erect head haughtily, and looked Carl Walraven full -in the face. Mr. Walraven held out his hand and grasped the baroness's -cordially.</p> - -<p>"My dear Sir Roger, I am proud and happy beyond expression. Mollie may -consider herself a fortunate girl to escape the wild young scapegraces -who dangle after her, and find a husband in a man like you. She stands -alone in the world, poor child, without father or mother. You, Sir -Roger, must be all the world to her now."</p> - -<p>"Heaven helping me, I will!" the old man said, earnestly.</p> - -<p>"My whole life shall be devoted to her happiness."</p> - -<p>"And when is it to be?" Mr. Walraven asked, with a smile. "I presume you -and Mollie have settled that?"</p> - -<p>"In two months. It will be spring then; and we can start at once for -Wales. I long to show my fairy bride old Trajenna Castle."</p> - -<p>"We shall miss her very much:" and Carl Walraven sighed in good earnest -as he said it. "She has been the sunlight of our home. My poor old -mother will almost break her heart: but it is for Mollie's good, and -all selfish considerations must give way. You are aware, Sir Roger, she -has no dower?"</p> - -<p>"She needs none," Sir Roger said, proudly. "My fortune is princely; her -settlements shall be as ample as though she were heiress to millions. I -believe there is nothing more, Mr. Walraven, and so let us rejoin the -ladies."</p> - -<p>The news spread like wildfire—the avenue was electrified. Mollie -Dane—little, coquettish Mollie Dane—sprung from nobody knew where, to -carry off the great Welsh baronet, in spite of them all. The man must be -in his dotage!</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven's antecedents were mysterious enough, in all conscience; -but the antecedents of this wild ward of his were ten times more so. -But, in spite of all, the engagement was an accomplished fact.</p> - -<p>Every day, beneath the baleful glare of angry female eyes, Mollie Dane -went riding and driving and walking with the stately, white-haired old -millionaire, who bent over her as obsequiously as though she were a -duchess born.</p> - -<p>The women might go wild with envy, the men go mad with jealousy; but the -days and the weeks went on, and the fairy grew more radiantly beautiful -with each. And the wedding-day came, and the guests were bidden, and all -was ready, on a scale of unparalleled magnificence. And who was to know -the wedding would never be?</p> - -<p>Mollie's bridal night! The big brown-stone mansion was one blaze of -light. The ceremony was to take place in the lofty drawing-room, and be -followed by a ball. This somewhat obsolete way of doing things was by -the express desire of Sir Roger, and on the morrow they were to start -by steamer for the old land. It was all one to Mollie, and Mr. and Mrs. -Walraven acquiesced in every wish of the Welshman.</p> - -<p>The hour fixed for the ceremony was ten o'clock. It was nearly nine, and -up in her own room the bride stood, under the hands of her maid, robed -for the sacrifice.</p> - -<p>It was a sacrifice, though giddy Mollie had never thought it so before. -Now, when it was too late, her heart began to fail her.</p> - -<p>He was dreadfully old, this stately Sir Roger. She didn't care for him -in the least, except as she might care for some nice old grandfather; -and then there was Hugh Ingelow—handsome Hugh!</p> - -<p>But at this point Cricket caught her breath and her thoughts with a -gasp.</p> - -<p>"Mollie, Mollie, Mollie! How dare you, you wicked, crazy girl! Thinking -of Hugh Ingelow, when you oughtn't to remember there's another man alive -but Sir Roger Trajenna! I wouldn't marry poor Hugh when he wanted me—a -lucky escape for him—and I'm not going to pine away for him now, when -it's high treason to do it"</p> - -<p>"Hurry, Margaret," the bride said aloud. "Make me just as pretty as ever -you can."</p> - -<p>The three rejected suitors had been invited to the bridal hall, and, -singular to relate, had come.</p> - -<p>But their discomfiture had been so singular altogether that perhaps they -thought it as well to match Mollie in coolness.</p> - -<p>There they were at least, regarding one another in the oddest way, and -Mrs. Walraven, gorgeous in amber moiré, sidled up to her cousin, and -hissed venomously in his ear:</p> - -<p>"So the vicious Guy Oleander has lost his little game, after all! -Blue-eyed Mollie is destined to be 'My Lady,' in spite of his teeth."</p> - -<p>"'There is many a slip'—you know the proverb, Madame."</p> - -<p>It was all he said; but his sinister smile, as he moved away, said a -great deal.</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow, very pale, stood leaning against a marble column, all -wreathed with festal roses, not as white as his own handsome face.</p> - -<p>"What are they plotting, I wonder?" he thought. "No good to her. They -hate her, as I ought to, but as I can't, poor, pitiful fool that I am! -But my time may come, too. I said I would not forget, and will not."</p> - -<p>The bride-maids, a gay group of girls, came fluttering into the "maiden -bower" to see if the bride was ready.</p> - -<p>"For the clergyman is down-stairs, and the guests are assembled, and Sir -Roger is waiting, and nothing is needed but the bride."</p> - -<p>"A very essential need," responded Mollie. "I'm not going to hurry -myself; they can't get along without me. A letter, Lucy? For me? From -whom, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>The girl had entered, bearing a note in a buff envelope, addressed, in a -sprawling hand, to "Miss Mollie Dane."</p> - -<p>"The young person that brought it is waiting in the hall, miss," said -Lucy. "I didn't want to take it, and I told her you was just about -getting married, but it was no use. She said it was a matter of life or -death, and you'd be sure to pay attention to it if you were before the -altar."</p> - -<p>But Mollie had not listened. She tore open the buff envelope, and the -gazers saw her turn deathly pale as she read.</p> - -<p>She crushed the letter in her hand and turned impetuously to the girl.</p> - -<p>"Where is the person who brought this? I must see her at once. Bring her -here; and you, young ladies, let me speak two words to her in private."</p> - -<p>The young ladies trooped out, and the bride was left alone, paler than -her snowy robes.</p> - -<p>A moment, and Lucy was back with the bearer of the letter, a -respectable-looking young person enough.</p> - -<p>Lucy left her mistress and the girl standing together. Five minutes -after the bell rang sharply. Lucy hastened back; on the threshold the -bride met and stopped her, with a white, startled face.</p> - -<p>"Tell them to postpone the ceremony for an hour, Lucy. Come back here -then. For the next hour I wish to be left alone. Tell Mr. Walraven."</p> - -<p>She shut the door in the amazed attendant's face. Lucy heard the key -turn. A second she stood petrified, then she hastened off to deliver her -message.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven stood aghast. Lucy was plied with questions. Who was the -girl? What was she like? What had she said? Where had she come from?</p> - -<p>Sir Roger was wildly alarmed at first, but Mr. Walraven reassured him. -The company waited, on the <i>qui vive</i>, for they knew not what. Eleven -o'clock came. Lucy went up to the bride's room; the door was still fast; -she knocked—there was no reply; she called—there was no answer. Then -Lucy screamed, and in a twinkling a crowd was around the door. They -shook it, they rapped, they called, all in vain. Dead silence reigned.</p> - -<p>"Force the door!" exclaimed Carl Walraven, hoarsely.</p> - -<p>Strong men forced it. There was a rush in, a recoil, a cry of -consternation, for the apartment was empty; the bird had flown.</p> - -<p>How the search began no one ever knew, but begin it did. The house was -hunted from top to bottom; still in vain. Not a trace of the bride could -be found.</p> - -<p>The wedding party dispersed in wild confusion, but the search went on. -Through the night it lasted; but morning broke, and still no trace. The -bride had disappeared as if the earth had opened and swallowed her up!</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> - -<h3>WHERE THE BRIDE WAS.</h3> - - -<p>The letter in the buff envelope which had so startled Mollie was very -brief. There were but eight or nine lines, wretchedly scrawled:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>MOLLIE DANE,—Come to me at once, if you want to find out who you -are, who your parents were, what Carl Walraven is to you. This is your -wedding-night; but come. I am very ill—dying; I may not see morning. -If you delay, it will be too late. The bearer is my friend; she will -conduct you to me. Tell no one. Carl Walraven will prevent you, if he -can. I say to you, come—come—come.</p> - -<p>MIRIAM.</p></div> - -<p>If there was one thing on earth that flighty Mollie was really in -earnest about, it was in knowing her own history. Her marriage sunk -into insignificance in comparison.</p> - -<p>She dispatched Lucy at once for the bearer of the note, sent her friends -to the right-about, and closeted herself with the young woman—a pale -young woman, with dark eyes and an intelligent face.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" abruptly demanded the bride, looking curiously at her.</p> - -<p>"Sarah Grant," answered the young woman—"a shopgirl."</p> - -<p>"Who sent you with this note?"</p> - -<p>"A woman who lodges in the same house—a tall, gaunt, half-crazed -looking creature. She is dangerously ill."</p> - -<p>The girl answered straightforwardly, gazing round her the while in -open-eyed admiration.</p> - -<p>"Do you know her name?"</p> - -<p>"We call her old Miriam; she refuses to tell her name. I have done -little things for her since she has been ill, and she begged me so hard -to fetch you this letter that I could not refuse."</p> - -<p>"Do you know its contents?"</p> - -<p>"Only that you are expected to return with me. She told me that she had -something to say to you that you would give half your life to hear."</p> - -<p>"Is the house far from this?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, miss, a long way; but I came in a carriage. It is waiting round -the corner. Miriam told me to hurry; that it was a matter of life or -death, and she gave me money to pay for the hack. It was absolutely -necessary you should know, she said, before you married any one."</p> - -<p>Mollie mused a moment. She never thought of doubting all this. Of -course, Miriam knew all about her, and of course it was likely she -would wish to tell her on her death-bed.</p> - -<p>"I will go," she said, suddenly. "Wait one instant."</p> - -<p>She summoned the servant, gave her the message that had caused such -consternation, locked the door, and threw over her glittering bridal -robes a long water-proof cloak that covered her from head to foot. -Drawing the hood over her head, she stood ready.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Miss Dane, rapidly, "we will not go out by the front door, -because I don't want any one to know I have quitted the house. Come this -way."</p> - -<p>She opened one of the long windows and stepped out on the piazza. Sarah -followed.</p> - -<p>Some distance on there was a flight of stairs leading to a paved -back-yard. They descended the stairs, walked down the yard, passed -through a little gate, and stood in the street, under the bright night -sky.</p> - -<p>"Now, Miss Grant," said Mollie, "where is your carriage?"</p> - -<p>"At the corner of the avenue, miss. This way."</p> - -<p>Two minutes brought them to the corner. There stood the hack.</p> - -<p>Sarah made a motion for Miss Dane to precede her. Mollie stepped in; the -girl followed, closing the door securely after her, and the hack started -at a furious pace.</p> - -<p>"How dark it is!" exclaimed Mollie, impatiently. "You should make your -driver light up, Miss Grant."</p> - -<p>"There is sufficient light for our work," a voice answered.</p> - -<p>Mollie recoiled with a slight shriek, for it was not the voice of Sarah -Grant.</p> - -<p>A dark figure started out of the corner on the moment, her hands were -grasped, and a handkerchief swiftly and surely bound round her mouth. It -was no longer in her power to raise an alarm.</p> - -<p>"Now bind her eyes, Sarah," said the voice. "I'll secure her hands. -My pretty bird, it's of no use struggling. You're safely and surely -snared."</p> - -<p>Her eyes were bandaged, her hands bound, and Mollie sat utterly helpless -and bewildered—a prisoner.</p> - -<p>She could neither see, nor move, nor speak. The hack was rattling at a -fearful pace over the stony streets. Its noise would have drowned her -cries had it been in her power to utter any.</p> - -<p>"Now, my dear Miss Dane," said that unknown voice, very close to her -ear, and all at once, in French, "I'll answer all the questions I know -you are dying to ask at this moment, and answer them truthfully. I speak -in French, that the good Sarah beside us may not comprehend. You -understand the language, I know."</p> - -<p>He knew her, then! And yet she utterly failed to recognize that voice.</p> - -<p>"In the first place, what does all this mean? Why this deception—this -abduction? Who am I? Where are you being taken? When are you to be -restored to your friends? This is what you would ask, is it not? Very -well; now to answer you. What does this mean? Why, it means that you -have made an enemy, by your atrocious flirting, of one whom you cruelly -and shamefully jilted, who has vowed vengeance, and who knows how to -keep that vow. Why this deception—this abduction? Well, without -deception it was impossible to get you away, and we know just enough -about you to serve our purpose. Miriam never sent that note; but Miriam -exists. Who am I? Why, I am that enemy—if one can be your enemy who -loves you to madness—a man you cruelly taught to love you, and then -scornfully refused. Where are you being taken? To a safe place, my -charming Mollie—safe as 'that deepest dungeon beneath the castle moat' -which you have read of. When are you to be restored to your friends? -When you have been my wife one week—not an instant sooner."</p> - -<p>Mollie, bound and blindfolded, made one frantic gesture. The man by her -side understood.</p> - -<p>"That means you won't," he said, coolly. "Ah, my fairy Mollie, -imprisonment is a hard thing to bear! I love you very dearly, I admire -your high spirit intensely; but even eaglets have had their wings -clipped before now. You treated me mercilessly—I am going to be -merciless in my turn. You don't care for this old man I have saved you -from marrying. I am young and good-looking—I blush as I say it—a far -more suitable husband for you than he. You are trying to recognize my -voice and place me, I know. Leave off trying, my dearest; you never -will. I am perfectly disguised—voice, face, figure. When we part you -will be no wiser than you are now."</p> - -<p>He ceased speaking. The carriage rattled on and on through the shining, -starlit night for endless hours, it seemed to Mollie.</p> - -<p>Oh, where were they going, and what was to become of her? Was it a -frightful reality, or only a dream? Was she really the same girl who -this night was to have been the bride of a baronet? Was this the -nineteenth century and New York City, or a chapter out of some old -Venetian romance?</p> - -<p>The carriage stopped at last; she heard the door open, she felt herself -lifted out; there was a rush of cold air for an instant, then they -entered a house; a door closed behind them, and she was being borne -upstairs and into a room.</p> - -<p>"Now that we have arrived, Miss Mollie," said that strange voice, "we -will unbind you, and you really must overlook the hard necessity which -compelled so strong a course toward a lady. I give you fair warning that -it will be of no use straining your lungs screaming; for if you shrieked -for a month, no one would hear you through these padded walls. Now, -then!"</p> - -<p>He took the gag from her mouth, and Mollie caught her breath with a -gasp. He untied the bandage round her eyes, and for a second or two she -was dazzled by the sudden blaze of light. The instant she could see, she -turned full upon her abductor.</p> - -<p>Alas and alas! he wore a black mask, a flowing wig, a beard, and a long -cloak reaching to the floor.</p> - -<p>He was a tall man—that was the only thing Mollie could make out of the -disguise.</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane does not spare me; but it is all in vain. She may gaze until -her lovely eyes drop from their sockets, and she will not recognize me. -And now I will leave you. I will intrude upon you as little as is -absolutely possible. If you need anything, ring the bell. Good-night, -my beautiful Mollie, and happy dreams."</p> - -<p>He bowed politely and moved toward the door. Mollie made a step toward -him, with upraised arm:</p> - -<p>"Stay!"</p> - -<p>The man halted at once.</p> - -<p>"How long am I to be imprisoned here?"</p> - -<p>"My fair one, I told you before: until you consent to become my wife."</p> - -<p>"Are you mad?" exclaimed Mollie, scornfully; "or do you think I am? -Your wife! I am here in your power—kill me, if you dare, you cowardly -abductor! I will die ten thousand deaths—I'll live on here until my -head is hoary—I'll dash my brains out against yonder wall, but I'll -never, never, never become your wife!"</p> - -<p>The man shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Strong language, my dear; but words, words, words! I won't kill you, -and you won't live here until your head is hoary. Golden locks like -yours are a long time turning gray. And you won't dash your brains out -against the walls, because the walls are padded. Is there anything else -you wish to say, Miss Dane?"</p> - -<p>"Only this," with blazing eyes, "that whoever you are, you are the -vilest, basest, most cowardly wretch on the wide earth! Go! I would -murder you if I was able!"</p> - -<p>"Not a doubt of it, my angel! Once more, good-night!"</p> - -<p>He bowed low, passed out, and locked the door. Mollie was alone in her -prison.</p> - -<p>Now, little Cricket, fairy that she was, was yet brave as any giantess. -Not a drop of craven blood flowed in her spirited veins. Therefore, left -alone, she neither wept, nor raved, nor tore her hair; but took a -prolonged survey of her surroundings.</p> - -<p>It was a large, lofty room, lighted by a single gas-jet, dependent from -the ceiling. The four walls were thickly wadded, and there were no -windows, only one door, no pictures, no mirror—nothing but a few -stuffed chairs, a table, a lavatory, a bed. Day-time and night-time -would be the same here.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Mollie to herself, drawing a long breath, "if this does not -cap the globe! Am I really Mollie Dane, and is this New York City, or am -I playing private theatricals, and gone back to the Dark Ages? Who, in -the wide world, is that mysterious man? And, oh! what will they say at -home this dreadful night?"</p> - -<p>She removed her cumbersome mantle and threw it upon the bed, looking -ruefully about her.</p> - -<p>"I wonder how long I am to be kept here? Of course, I'll never yield; -but it's going to be frightful, if I am to be imprisoned for weeks and -weeks. I won't ring for that deceitful Sarah Grant, and I'll never give -in, if they keep me until the day of judgment."</p> - -<p>She began pacing up and down the room. Death-like stillness reigned. -Hours passed. Weary with the long drive, she threw herself upon the bed -at last, and fell fast asleep.</p> - -<p>A noise near awoke her after a prolonged slumber. She looked up; the gas -still burned, but she was no longer alone. Sarah stood by the table, -arranging a tempting breakfast.</p> - -<p>"What's that?" abruptly demanded Mollie.</p> - -<p>Sarah courtesied respectfully.</p> - -<p>"Your breakfast, miss."</p> - -<p>"It is to-morrow, then?" said Mollie.</p> - -<p>"It is to-day, miss," responded the girl, with a smile.</p> - -<p>"What's the hour?"</p> - -<p>"Past eight, Miss Dane."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to stay here with me?"</p> - -<p>"No, miss."</p> - -<p>"Why did you tell me such lies last night, you shameful girl?"</p> - -<p>"I told you what I was ordered to tell you."</p> - -<p>"By whom?"</p> - -<p>"My master."</p> - -<p>"Who is your master? Old Satan?"</p> - -<p>"I hope not, miss."</p> - -<p>"Who, then? What is his name?"</p> - -<p>"Excuse me. Miss Dane," said the girl, quietly. "I must answer no -questions."</p> - -<p>"You are a hard-hearted creature, and you ought to be ashamed of -yourself!" exclaimed Mollie, indignantly. "Where is your master? Here?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane, I repeat it—I can answer no questions, and I must go. Here -is your breakfast. I hope you will enjoy it."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mollie, scornfully, "it is very likely I enjoy eating and -drinking in this place! Take it away. I don't want victuals—I mean to -starve myself to death."</p> - -<p>But she looked at the table as she spoke, and was inwardly not at all -displeased to see the golden coffee, the buckwheat cakes, the eggs, and -ham, and toast.</p> - -<p>"I shall bring you your dinner at noon, miss." said Sarah, moving toward -the door, and not heeding her. "If you want me before noon, please to -ring."</p> - -<p>"Stop!" said Mollie. "And, oh, for goodness gracious sake, do tell me -where I am!"</p> - -<p>She held up her hands imploringly—poor, caged little starling!</p> - -<p>"I am sorry, miss," Sarah said, and her face showed it; "but -indeed—indeed I can't! I daren't! I've promised, and my master trusts -me. I can't break my word."</p> - -<p>She was gone as she spoke, locking the door again, and Mollie got up -with a heavy sigh. She had taken off only her outer garments before -lying down; and after washing, and combing out her bright silken hair, -she resumed the glittering, bride-like finery of the evening before. -Poor Mollie looked at the silver-shining silk, the cobweb lace, the -gleaming, milky pearls, with a very rueful face.</p> - -<p>"And I was to have been away on my bridal tour by this time," she -thought; "and poor Sir Roger is half mad before this, I know. Oh, dear! -it's very nice to read about young ladies being carried off in this way, -but the reading is much nicer than the reality. I shall die if they keep -me here four-and-twenty hours longer."</p> - -<p>By way of preparing for death, Miss Dane promptly sat down to the table -and eat her breakfast with the hearty appetite of youth and good health.</p> - -<p>"It's better than being fed on bread and water, anyhow," she reflected, -as she finished; "but I should greatly prefer the bread and water, if -sweetened with freedom. What on earth shall I do with myself? If they -had only left me a book!"</p> - -<p>But they hadn't, and the long, dull hours wore on—how long and how dull -only prisoners know. But noon came at last, and with it came Sarah, -carrying a second tray. Mollie was on the watch for the door to open. -She had some vague idea of making a rush for it, but there stood a -stalwart man on guard.</p> - -<p>"Here is your dinner, Miss Dane. I hope you liked your breakfast."</p> - -<p>But the sight of the sentinel without had made Mollie sulky, and she -turned her back upon the girl with silent contempt.</p> - -<p>Sarah departed, and Mollie suffered her dinner to stand and grow cold. -She was too cross to eat, but by and by she awoke to the fact that she -was hungry.</p> - -<p>"And then it will help to pass the time," thought the unhappy prisoner, -sitting down. "If I could eat all the time, I shouldn't so much mind."</p> - -<p>After dinner she coiled herself up in one of the arm-chairs and fell -asleep. She slept long, and awoke refreshed, but what time it was she -could not judge; eternal gas-light and silence reigned in her prison.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, dear! what will become of me if this sort of thing goes on?" -cried Mollie, aloud, starting up and wringing her hands. "I shall go -stark, staring mad! Oh, what crime did my father and mother ever commit, -that their sin should be visited upon me like this? I will stab myself -with the carving-knife to-morrow, after dinner, if this keeps on!"</p> - -<p>Mollie paced up and down like a bedlamite, sobbing and scolding to -herself, and quite broken down with one day's imprisonment.</p> - -<p>"I thought I could stand it—I thought I could defy him; I had no idea -being imprisoned was so awful. I wish I could die and make an end of it! -I'd starve myself to death, only I get so dreadful hungry, and I daren't -cut my throat, because the sight of blood makes me sick, and I know it -must hurt. Oh, Mollie Dane, you miserable little wretch! I wish you had -never been born!"</p> - -<p>Another dreary interval, and then for the third time came Sarah bearing -a tray.</p> - -<p>"Your supper, miss." said Sarah, going through the formula. "I hope you -liked your dinner."</p> - -<p>"Oh, take it away!" cried Millie, twisting her fingers. "I don't want -any supper—I'm going crazy, I think! Oh, what a hard, flinty, unfeeling -heart you must have, you wicked young woman!"</p> - -<p>Sarah looked at her compassionately.</p> - -<p>"It is hard, I know. But why didn't you do as master wished you, and get -away?"</p> - -<p>"Marry him! How dare you? I wish I could poison him! I'd do that with -the greatest pleasure."</p> - -<p>"Then you must stay here, miss, for weeks and weeks, months and months, -and every day be like this. Your friends will never find you—never!"</p> - -<p>"Sarah, look here! I shall be dead in a week, and I'll haunt you—I vow -I will! I'll haunt you until I make your life a misery to you!"</p> - -<p>Sarah smiled quietly.</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid, miss. You're a great deal too young and too healthy to -die; and you won't kill yourself, for life is too sweet, even in prison. -The best thing you can do is to marry master, and be restored to your -friends."</p> - -<p>"Sarah Grant—if that be your name," said Mollie, with awful -calmness—"go away! if you only come here to insult me like that, -don't come here at all."</p> - -<p>Sarah courtesied respectfully, and immediately left. But her words had -made their mark. In spite of Mollie's appealing dignity, any avenue of -escape—even that—was beginning to took inviting.</p> - -<p>"Suppose I went through the form of a ceremony with this man?" mused -Mollie. "It wouldn't mean anything, you know, because I did it upon -compulsion; and, immediately I got out, I should go straight and marry -Sir Roger. But I won't do it—of course, I won't! I'll be imprisoned -forever before I yield!"</p> - -<p>But you know it has got to be a proverb, "When a woman hesitates, she is -lost." Mollie had begun to hesitate, and Mollie was lost.</p> - -<p>All that long night she never slept a wink. She lay awake, tossing and -tumbling on the bed, or pacing up and down the floor, in a sort of -delirious fever. And—</p> - -<p>"If I thought for certain sure he would let me go after the sham -ceremony was performed, I would marry him," was the conclusion she had -arrived at by morning. "No matter what happens, nothing can be half so -bad as this."</p> - -<p>It was morning, though Mollie did not know it, when she threw herself on -the bed, and for the second time fell asleep. And sleeping, she dreamed. -She was standing up before the minister, to be married to the masked -man. The ceremony went on—Miriam was bride-maid and Sir Roger Trajenna -gave her away. The ceremony ended, the bridegroom turned to salute the -bride. "But first I must remove my mask," he said, in a strangely -familiar voice; and lifting it off, Mollie saw smiling down upon her the -most beautiful face ever mortal were, familiar as the voice, yet leaving -her equally unable to place it.</p> - -<p>It may seem a little thing, but little things weigh with young ladies in -their seventeenth year, and this dream turned the scale. Mollie thought -about it a great deal that morning as she made her toilet.</p> - -<p>"I wonder if he is so very handsome? I like handsome men," mused Mollie. -"He told me he was, and I know he must be, if he ever was a flirter of -mine. Mr. Sardonyx is the plainest man I ever let make love to me, and -even he was not absolutely plain. I shouldn't wonder if my captor were -he, or else Doctor Oleander. Oh, why—why—why can't I recognize that -voice?"</p> - -<p>That day wore on, long, drearily, endlessly, it seemed to poor Mollie. -Its dull course was broken, as usual, by Sarah fetching the daily meals; -and it ended, and night came, and still Mollie had not spoken.</p> - -<p>Another day dawned, and its dawning brought the climax. She had passed a -sleepless night, and awoke feverish, unrefreshed, and utterly desperate.</p> - -<p>"If it was death instead of marriage I had to undergo," said Mollie to -herself, "I should prefer it to this slow torture. It's horrid to yield, -but it's a great deal more horrid to hold out. I'll yield."</p> - -<p>Accordingly, when Sarah came up with the morning meal, Miss Dane -promptly addressed her:</p> - -<p>"Sarah, is your master in the house?"</p> - -<p>"Not at present, miss."</p> - -<p>"Do you expect him?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, miss! He comes every day."</p> - -<p>"Is he coming up here no more until I send for him?"</p> - -<p>"I think not, miss. He is a great deal too polite to force himself upon -a lady."</p> - -<p>A glance of withering scorn from Mollie.</p> - -<p>"He is a cowardly, contemptible tyrant, and you are a vile, lost -creature and fool! But that is not what I wanted to say. As soon as -he comes, tell him I wish to see him."</p> - -<p>"Very well, miss."</p> - -<p>Sarah departed. The long hours dragged on—oh, so long!—oh, so long! -Mollie could take no breakfast that morning. She could only walk up and -down her prison-chamber in a frenzy of impatience for the coming of the -man she hated.</p> - -<p>He came at last—cloaked and masked, and wearing the false hair and -beard—utterly unrecognizable.</p> - -<p>"At last, Miss Dane," he calmly said, "you have sent for me. You are -tired of your prison? You long for freedom? You accede to my terms?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mollie, with a sort of sobbing cry, for she felt utterly -broken down. "Anything, anything under heaven for freedom! Another week -like this, and I should go mad! But, oh! if you are a man—if you have -any pity in your heart—don't ask this sacrifice! Let me go as I am! -See, I plead to you!—I, who never pleaded to mortal before! Let me go, -for pity's sake, now, as I came! Don't, don't, don't ask me to marry -you!"</p> - -<p>She held up her clasped hands—bright tears standing in her passionate -eyes. But the tall, masked man loomed up like a dark, stern ghost.</p> - -<p>"You were merciless to me, Mollie Dane."</p> - -<p>"But I am only a girl—only a silly, flirting girl of sixteen! Oh, -forget and forgive, and let me go!"</p> - -<p>"I can not, Mollie, for—I love you!"</p> - -<p>"Love me?" Mollie repeated, scorn and anguish in her voice. "Love me, -and torture me like this!"</p> - -<p>"It is because I love you. I torture you because you shall be my wife. -Mine, Mollie, mine! Because you would never consent of your own free -will. It goes to my heart to hear you plead; but I love you with my -whole heart and soul, and I can not yield."</p> - -<p>"I shall plead no more," said Mollie, proudly, turning away; "your heart -is of stone."</p> - -<p>"Will you consent to marry me, Mollie? Remember the terms. One week from -the hour that makes you my wife will see you going forth free, if you -wish it."</p> - -<p>"Free! wish it!" she repeated, with unutterable scorn. "Free, and bound -to you! Wish it, when for that privilege I sacrifice myself forever! Oh, -you know well I love my liberty dearly, when I can not lie here and rot -sooner than leave my prison your wife! But, man—demon—whatever you -are," she cried, with a sort of frenzy, "I do consent—I will become -your wife, since my only chance of quitting this horrible dungeon lies -that way!"</p> - -<p>If Mollie could have seen the face behind the mask, she would have seen -the red glow of triumph that overspread it at the words; but aloud he -spoke calmly.</p> - -<p>"My happiness is complete," he said. "But remember, Mollie, it will be -no sham marriage, that you will be at liberty to break. A real clergyman -shall unite us, and you must promise me to make no appeal to his -sympathy—to make no attempt to converse with him. The attempt would -be quite useless, but you must promise."</p> - -<p>"I promise," she said, haughtily; "and Mollie Dane keeps her word."</p> - -<p>"And I keep mine! A week from the ceremony you go forth free, never to -be disturbed by me again. I love you, and I marry you for love and for -revenge. It sounds inconsistent, but it is true. Yet, my promise of -vengeance fulfilled, I shall retain you against your will no longer. I -will love you always, and you will be my wife—my wife, Mollie. Nothing -can ever alter that. I can always say hereafter, come what will, I have -been blessed!"</p> - -<p>There was a tremor in the steady voice. He paused an instant, and then -went on:</p> - -<p>"To-night the clergyman will be here. You will be ready? You will not -retract your word?"</p> - -<p>"I never retract my word," Mollie said, abruptly turning her back upon -him. "I will not now. Go!"</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> - -<h3>THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE.</h3> - - -<p>The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh sat before a blazing sea-coal fire, in -his cozy study, in comfortable, after-dinner mood. He lay back in his -cushioned and carved arm-chair, a florid, portly, urbane prelate, with -iron-gray hair and patriarchal whiskers, a steaming glass of wine punch -at his elbow, that day's paper open upon his lap, an overfed pussy -purring at his knee, the genius of comfort personified in his own portly -person.</p> - -<p>The world went well with the Reverend Raymond. Silks rustled and -diamonds flashed every Sunday in the cushioned pews of his "uptown" -church; the <i>élite</i> of Gotham sat under his teaching, and his sixty -years and the cares of life rested lightly on his broad shoulders.</p> - -<p>It had been a very smoothly flowing life—those sixty years—gliding -along as sluggishly calm as the waters of a canal. But on this night the -still surface was destined to be ruffled—on this night, so strange, so -extraordinary an adventure was destined to happen to him, that it -actually compensated, in five brief hours, for all the lack of -excitement in those sixty years.</p> - -<p>A wet and stormy night. The rain beat ceaselessly against the curtained -windows; the wild spring wind shrieked through the city streets, icily -cold; a bad, black night—starless, moonless.</p> - -<p>The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh gave a little comfortable shiver as he -listened to it. It was very pleasant to listen to it in that cozy little -room. He poked the blazing coals, sipped his red port, stroked pussy, -who bore a most absurd feline resemblance to himself, and took up his -paper again.</p> - -<p>For the second time he read over a brief paragraph among the -"Personals:"</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>LEFT HER HOME.—On the fifteenth instant—whether forcibly or of her own -free will is unknown—a young lady of sixteen years, by name Mollie Dane. -Is undersized, very slight of figure, a profusion of light, curling hair, -large blue eyes, handsome features, and remarkably self-possessed and -straightforward of manner. Was dressed as a bride, in white silk and -lace. Any information concerning her will be thankfully received and -liberally rewarded by her afflicted friends. Apply personally or by -letter to MR. CARL WALRAVEN, No —— Fifth Avenue, New York.</p></div> - -<p>Very slowly the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh read this paragraph to its end. -He laid down the paper and looked thoughtfully at the cat.</p> - -<p>"Extraordinary!" murmured the Reverend Raymond, half aloud—"most -extraordinary! Like a scene in a novel; like nothing in real life. Has -the earth opened and swallowed her up? Has she gone off with some -younger and handsomer lover? Or has she been decoyed from home by the -machinations of some enemy? She had many, poor child! That unfortunate -Sir Roger is like a man insane. He is offering half his fortune for her -recovery. It is really very, very extraordinary. Quite a romance in real -life. Come in!"</p> - -<p>There had been a tap at the study door; a maid-servant entered.</p> - -<p>"There's a young woman down-stairs, sir, wishes to see you most -particular."</p> - -<p>"Ah, indeed! Who is she? What is her business with me?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, sir. Something very important, she says."</p> - -<p>"Show her up."</p> - -<p>The girl departed, ran down-stairs, ran up again, followed by a -respectable-looking young woman of pleasing aspect.</p> - -<p>"Well, my child,"—he was very fatherly and bland, was the Reverend -Raymond Rashleigh—"and what may you want with me?"</p> - -<p>"My Mistress sent me, sir. I am Mrs. Holywell's maid."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Mr. Rashleigh, vividly interested at once; "and how is -Mrs. Holywell?"</p> - -<p>"Very poorly, sir. She thinks she's dying herself. She wants to make her -will to-night; that's why she sent for you."</p> - -<p>Mr. Rashleigh rose with very unwonted alacrity.</p> - -<p>She was a distant relative of his, this dying Mrs. Holywell; -ridiculously rich for a childless widow, and with no nearer heir than -the reverend pastor of St. Pancras' Church.</p> - -<p>"I will accompany you at once, my dear! Poor Mrs. Holywell! But it is -the fate of all flesh! How did you come, pray? It rains, does it not?"</p> - -<p>A fierce gust of wind rattled the double windows, and frantically beat -the rain against them by way of answer.</p> - -<p>"I came in a carriage, sir. It is at the door now."</p> - -<p>"That is well. I will not detain you an instant. Ah! poor Mrs. -Holywell!"</p> - -<p>The parson's hat and overcoat hung in the room. In a moment they were -on; in another he was following the very respectable young woman -down-stairs; in a third he was scrambling after her into the carriage; -in a fourth they were rattling wildly over the wet, stony streets; in a -fifth the reverend gentleman was grasped in a vise-like grip, and a -voice close to his ear—a man's voice—hissed:</p> - -<p>"Speak one word, make the least outcry, and you are a dead man!"</p> - -<p>The interior of the carriage was in utter darkness.</p> - -<p>The Reverend Mr. Rashleigh gave one panting gasp, and fell back in his -seat. High living and long indolence had made him a complete craven. -Life was inestimably precious to the portly pastor of St. Pancras'. -After that one choking gasp, he sat quivering all over, like -calves'-foot jelly.</p> - -<p>"Bandage his eyes, Sarah, while I tie his hands," said the man's voice. -"My dear sir, don't shake so; it is almost impossible to do anything -with you in this hysterical state. Now, bind his mouth, Sarah. There! -I think that will do."</p> - -<p>Bound hands, and eyes, and mouth, half suffocated, wholly blinded, the -Reverend Raymond Rashleigh was a pitiable object at that instant. But -there was no one to pity him, no one to see him, no one to help him.</p> - -<p>The carriage whirled on, and on, and on at dizzy speed, the wind sighing -by in long, lamentable gales, the rain dashing clamorously against the -closed glass.</p> - -<p>Paralyzed with intense terror, Mr. Rashleigh sat trembling to that -extent that he threatened to topple off his seat.</p> - -<p>"Pray calm yourself, my reverend friend," said that masculine voice -beside him. "No personal harm is intended you, and I have no designs -upon your watch and purse. I merely want the loan of you in your -clerical capacity, to perform the ceremony of marriage over a runaway -couple. I knew you wouldn't come of your own free will; therefore, I -took the trouble to ascertain about those little expectations of yours -from Mrs. Holywell, and used that good lady, whose health, I trust, is -no worse than usual, as a cat's-paw. You must pardon the deception, dear -sir, and you must perform the marriage ceremony without inconvenient -scruples, or hesitation, or questions. Be thankful, for the sake of -morality, we see the propriety of getting married at all. You are -listening to me and paying attention to me, I hope?"</p> - -<p>Paying attention! Yes, his whole soul was absorbed in listening.</p> - -<p>"Where I take you, who I am, you will never find out. Don't try, my dear -Mr. Rashleigh, even if you have the opportunity. Marry me—for I am to -be the happy bridegroom—and don't utter another word, save and except -the words of the ceremony, from the time you enter my house until you -leave it. If you do your part like the prudent, elderly gentleman I take -you to be, you will find yourself back in your pleasant study, safe and -sound, before morning dawns. If not—"</p> - -<p>There was an awful sound, the sharp click of a pistol. No words in -any known language—and the parson knew all the languages, dead and -alive—could have filled up the hiatus so eloquently or so convincingly.</p> - -<p>The cold perspiration started from every pore, and each tooth in his -clerical jaws clattered like pairs of castanets.</p> - -<p>They drove, and they drove, and they drove through the wild, wet night, -as if they meant to drive forever.</p> - -<p>But they stopped, after a horribly long interval, and the parson was -helped out into the rain, out of the rain into a house, led up a flight -of stairs, and seated in a chair.</p> - -<p>"Now, my dear sir, permit me to remove these uncomfortable incumbrances, -and do, do try to overlook the painful necessity which compelled me to -use them. It goes to my heart, I assure you. There!"</p> - -<p>The last bandage dropped to the ground—eyes, hands, mouth were free. -But Mr. Rashleigh could make no use of his freedom; he sat pale, -benumbed, confounded, helpless.</p> - -<p>"Rouse yourself, my dear sir," said his persecutor, giving him a gentle -shake; "don't drop into a cataleptic trance. Look up and speak to me."</p> - -<p>The reverend gentleman did look up, and uttered a sort of scream at -sight of the ugly black mask frowning ghastily down upon him.</p> - -<p>"Don't be alarmed," said the masked man, soothingly; "no harm is meant -you. My mask won't hurt you. I merely don't want you to recognize me -to-morrow, should we chance to meet. My bride will be masked, too, and -you will marry us by our Christian names alone. Hers is Mary; mine is -Ernest. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes!" responded Mr. Rashleigh, quaking with unutterable terror. -Oh! was this a dreadful nightmare, induced by a too luxurious dinner, -or was it a horrible reality?</p> - -<p>"And you are ready to perform the ceremony? to ask no questions? to -marry us, and be gone?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, yes! Oh, good heavens!" groaned the Reverend Raymond: "am I -asleep or awake?"</p> - -<p>"Very well, then," said this dreadful man in the mask; "I will go for -the bride. She is Mary, remember; I am Ernest I will return in a -moment."</p> - -<p>He quitted the room. Mr. Rashleigh stared helplessly about him, in a -pitiable state of terror and bewilderment. The room was large, well, -even elegantly, furnished, with nothing at all remarkable about, its -elegance; such another as Mr. Rashleigh's own drawing-room at home. It -was lighted by a cluster of gas-jets, and the piano, the arm-chairs, the -sofas, the tables, the pictures, were all very handsome and very common, -indeed.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes elapsed. The commonplace, everyday look of the mysterious -room did more toward reassuring the trembling prelate than all the -masked man's words.</p> - -<p>The door opened, and the masked man stalked in again, this time with a -lady hanging on his arm.</p> - -<p>The lady was small and slender, robed in flowing white silk; a rich -veil of rare lace falling over her from head to foot like a cloud; a -wreath of orange-blossoms on her fair head; jewels sparkling about -her—everything just as it should be, save that, the face was hidden. A -mask of white silk, giving her a corpse-like and ghastly look, covered -it from forehead to chin.</p> - -<p>The very respectable young woman who had inveigled him out of his study, -and a slouchy-looking young man followed, and took their places behind -the masked pair.</p> - -<p>"Begin," authoritatively commanded the bridegroom.</p> - -<p>The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh stood up. It was a wild and lawless -proceeding, and all wrong; but life is sweet to portly prelates of -sixty, and he stood up and began at once.</p> - -<p>Mr. Rashleigh needed no book—he knew the marriage service as pat as his -prayers. The ring was at hand; the questions were asked; the responses -made.</p> - -<p>In five minutes the two masks were man and wife.</p> - -<p>"Make out a certificate of marriage," said the bridegroom; "these two -people will be witnesses. Their names are Sarah Grant and John Jones."</p> - -<p>Pens, ink and paper were placed before him. Mr. Rashleigh essayed to -write, as well as his trembling fingers would allow him, and handed a -smeared and blotted document to the bridegroom.</p> - -<p>"You will enter this marriage on your register, Mr. Rashleigh," said the -man. "I am very much obliged to you. Pray accept this for your trouble."</p> - -<p><i>This</i> was a glistening rouleau of gold. Mr. Rashleigh liked gold, and -in spite of his trepidation, managed to put it in his pocket.</p> - -<p>"Now, my dear," the happy man said, turning to the little white bride, -"you and Sarah had better retire. Our reverend friend will wish to -return home. I must see him there."</p> - -<p>The bride and her attendant left the room without a word. The bridegroom -produced the bandages again.</p> - -<p>"I regret the necessity, but I must bind you again. However, it will not -be for long; in a couple of hours you will be at home."</p> - -<p>With wonderful skill and rapidity, hands, eyes, and mouth were bound -once more; the parson was led down-stairs, out into the wet night, and -back to his seat in the carriage. The masked man took his place beside -him. John Jones mounted to the driver's perch, and they were off like -the wind.</p> - -<p>The promised two hours were very long to the rector, but they ended at -last. The carriage stopped abruptly; he was helped out, and the bandage -taken from his eyes and hands.</p> - -<p>"The other must remain for a moment or two," said the mysterious man -with the mask, speaking rapidly. "You are at the corner of your own -street. Good-bye, and many thanks!"</p> - -<p>He sprung into the carriage, and it was gone like a flash. And the -Reverend Raymond Rashleigh, in the gray and dismal dawn of a wet -morning, was left all agape in the deserted street.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> - -<h3>ONE WEEK AFTER.</h3> - - -<p>On that eventful night of wind and rain upon which the Reverend Raymond -Rashleigh performed that mysterious midnight marriage, Mr. Carl Walraven -paced alone his stately library, lost in thought—painful thought; for -his dark brows were contracted, and the Grecian heads in the brackets -around him had no severer lines than those about his mouth.</p> - -<p>While he paces up and down, up and down, like some restless ghost, the -library door opens, and his wife, magnificently arrayed, with jewels in -her raven hair, a sparkling fan dangling from her wrist, an odor of rich -perfume following her, appears before him like a picture in a frame.</p> - -<p>She is superbly handsome in that rose-colored opera-cloak, and she knows -it, and is smiling graciously; but the swarth frown on her husband's -face only grows blacker as he looks at her.</p> - -<p>"You are going, then?" said Mr. Carl Walraven.</p> - -<p>"Going?" Mrs. Walraven arches her black eyebrows in pretty surprise at -the word. "Of course, my dear. I would not miss 'Robert le Diable' and -the charming new tenor for worlds."</p> - -<p>"Nor would you obey your husband for worlds, madame. I expressly desired -you to stay at home."</p> - -<p>"I know it, my love. Should be happy to oblige you, but in this case it -is simply impossible."</p> - -<p>"Have you no regard for the opinion of the world?"</p> - -<p>"Every regard, my dear."</p> - -<p>"What do you suppose society will say to see you at the opera, dressed -like a queen, while we are all mourning poor Mollie's loss?"</p> - -<p>"Society will say, if society has common sense, that Mrs. Walraven -scorns to play hypocrite. I don't care for Mollie Dane—I never did -care for her—and I don't mourn her loss in the least. I don't care -that"—the lady snapped her jeweled fingers somewhat vulgarly—"if I -never see her again. It is as well to tell you the truth, my dear. One -should have no secrets from one's husband, they say."</p> - -<p>She laughed lightly, and drew her opera-cloak up over her superb bare -shoulders. Mr. Walraven's darkest scowl did not intimidate her in the -least.</p> - -<p>"Leave the room, madame!" ordered her husband, authoritatively; "and -take you care that I don't assert my right and compel you to obey me, -before long."</p> - -<p>"Compel!" It was such a good joke that Mrs. Blanche's silvery laugh rang -through the apartment. "You compelled me once, against my will, when you -took your ward with you on your wedding-tour. I don't think it will ever -happen again, Mr. Walraven. And now, how do you like my dress? I came in -expressly to ask you, for the carriage waits."</p> - -<p>"Leave the room!" cried Carl Walraven, in a voice of thunder. "Be gone!"</p> - -<p>"You are violent," said Blanche, with a provoking shrug and smile, but -prudently retreating. "You forget your voice may be heard beyond this -room. Since you lost your ward you appear also to have lost your -temper—never of the best, I must say. Well, my love, by-bye for the -present. Don't quite wear out the carpet before I return."</p> - -<p>With the last sneer and a sweeping bow, the lady quitted the library. As -she closed the door, the house-bell rang violently.</p> - -<p>"The devoted baronet, no doubt," she said to herself, with an unpleasant -smile; "come to condole with his brother in affliction. Poor old noodle! -Truly, a fool of forty will never be wise! A fool of seventy, in his -case."</p> - -<p>One of the tall footmen opened the door. But it was not the stately -baronet. The footman recoiled with a little yelp of terror—he had -admitted this visitor before. A gaunt and haggard woman, clad in rags, -soaking with rain—a wretched object as ever the sun shone on.</p> - -<p>"Is Carl Walraven within?" demanded this grisly apparition, striding in -and confronting the tottering footman with blazing black eyes. "Tell him -Miriam is here."</p> - -<p>The footman recoiled further with another feeble yelp, and Blanche -Walraven haughtily and angrily faced the intruder.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>The blazing eyes burning in hollow sockets turned upon the glittering, -perfumed vision.</p> - -<p>"Who am I? What would you give to know? Who are you? Carl Walraven's -wife, I suppose. His wife! Ha! ha!" she laughed—a weird, blood-curdling -laugh. "I wish you joy of your husband, most magnificent madame! Tell -me, fellow," turning with sudden fierceness upon the dismayed -understrapper, "is your master at home?"</p> - -<p>"Y-e-e-s! That is, I think so, ma'am."</p> - -<p>"Go and tell him to come here, then. Go, or I'll—"</p> - -<p>The dreadful object made one stride toward the lofty servitor, who -turned and fled toward the library.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Walraven had heard loud and angry voices, and at this moment the -door opened and he appeared on the threshold.</p> - -<p>"What is this?" he demanded, angrily. "What the deuce do you mean, -Wilson, wrangling in the hall? Not gone yet, Blanche? Good Heaven! -Miriam!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Miriam!" She strode fiercely forward. "Yes, Miriam! Come to demand -revenge! Where is Mollie Dane? You promised to protect her, and see how -you keep your word!"</p> - -<p>"In the demon's name, hush!" cried Carl Walraven, savagely. "What you -have to say to me, say to me—not to the whole house. Come in here, you -hag of Satan, and blow out as much as you please! Good Lord! Wasn't I in -trouble enough before, without you coming to drive me mad?"</p> - -<p>He caught her by one fleshless arm in a sort of frenzy of desperation, -and swung her into the library. Then he turned to his audience of two -with flashing eyes:</p> - -<p>"Wilson, be gone! or I'll break every bone in your body! Mrs. Walraven, -be good enough to take yourself off at once. I don't want eavesdroppers."</p> - -<p>And having thus paid his elegant lady-wife back in her own coin, Mr. -Walraven stalked into the library like a sulky lion, banged the door and -locked it.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Carl stood a moment in petrified silence in the hall, then sailed -in majestic displeasure out of the house, into the waiting carriage, and -was whirled away to the Academy.</p> - -<p>"Turn and turn about. Mr. Carl Walraven," she said, between set, white -teeth. "My turn next! I'll ferret out your guilty secrets before long, -as sure as my name is Blanche!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven faced Miriam in the library with folded arms and fiery -eyes, goaded to recklessness, a panther at bay.</p> - -<p>"Well, you she-devil, what do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Mary Dane."</p> - -<p>"Find her, then!" said Carl Walraven, fiercely. "I know nothing about -her."</p> - -<p>The woman looked at him long and keenly. The change in him evidently -puzzled her.</p> - -<p>"You sing a new song lately," she said with deliberation. "Do you want -me to think you are out of my power?"</p> - -<p>"Think what you please, and be hanged to you!" howled Mr. Walraven. -"I am driven to the verge of madness among you! Mollie Dane and her -disappearance, my wife and her cursed taunts, you and your infernal -threats! Do your worst, the whole of you! I defy the whole lot!"</p> - -<p>"Softly, softly," said Miriam, cooling down as he heated up. "I want an -explanation. You have lost Mollie! How was she lost?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—how? You've asked the question, and I wish you would answer it. -I've been driving myself wild over it for the past few days, but I don't -seem to get to the solution. Can't your Familiar," pointing downward, -"help you guess the enigma, Miriam?"</p> - -<p>Miriam frowned darkly.</p> - -<p>"Do you really intend to say you have not made away with the girl -yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Now what does the woman mean by that? What the deuce should I make away -with her for? I liked Mollie—upon my soul I did, Miriam! I liked her -better than any one in this house—the little, saucy, mischievous witch! -She was on the eve of marrying a baronet, and going to her castle in -Spain—I mean in Wales—when, lo! she vanishes like a ghost in a child's -tale. I've scoured the city after her—I've paid detectives fabulous -amounts. I've been worried, and harassed, and goaded, and mystified -until I'm half mad, and here you come with your infernal nonsense about -'making away' with her. That means murdering her, I suppose. I always -took you to be more or less mad, Miriam Dane, but I never before took -you to be a fool."</p> - -<p>The woman looked at him keenly—he was evidently telling the truth. Yet -still she doubted.</p> - -<p>"Who but you, Carl Walraven, had any interest in her, one way or the -other? What enemies could a girl of sixteen have?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! what, indeed? If a girl of sixteen will flirt with every eligible -man she meets until she renders him idiotic, she must expect to pay the -penalty. But I don't pretend to understand this affair; it is wrapped in -blacker mystery than the Man in the Iron Mask. All I've got to say is—I -had no hand in it; so no more of your black looks, Mistress Miriam."</p> - -<p>"And all I've got to say, Mr. Walraven," said Miriam, steadfastly -fixing her eyes upon him, "is that if Mollie Dane is not found before -the month is out, I will publish your story to the world. What will -Madame Walraven, what will Mrs. Carl, what will the chief metropolitan -circles say then?"</p> - -<p>"You hag of Hades! Ain't you afraid I will strangle you where you stand?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least," folding her shawl deliberately around her, and moving -toward the door: "not in the slightest degree. Good-night, Carl -Walraven—I have said it, and I always keep my word."</p> - -<p>"Keep it, and—"</p> - -<p>But Miriam did not hear that last forcible adjuration. She was out of -the library, and out of the house, ere it was well uttered—lost in the -wet, black night.</p> - -<p>Left alone, Carl Walraven resumed his march up and down the apartment, -with a gloomier face and more frowning brows than ever.</p> - -<p>It was bad enough before, without this tiger-cat of a Miriam coming to -make things ten times worse. It was all bravado, his defiance of her, -and he knew it. He was completely in her power, to ruin for life if she -chose to speak.</p> - -<p>"And she will choose!" growled Carl Walraven, in a rage, "the accursed -old hag! if Mollie Dane doesn't turn up before the month ends. By the -Lord Harry! I'll twist that wizen gullet of hers the next time she shows -her ugly black face here! Confound Mollie Dane and all belonging to her! -I've never known a day's rest since I met them first."</p> - -<p>There was a tap at the door. The tall footman threw it open and ushered -in Sir Roger Trajenna. The stately old baronet looked ten years older in -these few days. Anxiety told upon him more hardly than his seventy yews.</p> - -<p>"Good-evening, Sir Roger!" cried Mr. Walraven, advancing eagerly. "Any -news of Mollie?"</p> - -<p>He expected to hear "No," but the baronet said "Yes." He was deeply -agitated, and held forth, in a hand that shook, a note to Carl Walraven.</p> - -<p>"I received that an hour ago, through the post-office. For Heaven's -sake, read, and tell me what you think of it!"</p> - -<p>He dropped exhausted into a chair. Carl Walraven tore open the brief -epistle, and devoured its contents:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>SIR ROGER TRAJENNA,—Give up your search for Mollie Dane. It is useless; -a waste of time and money. She is safe and well, and will be at home in a -week, but she will never be your wife.</p> - -<p>ONE WHO KNOWS.</p></div> - -<p>Mr. Walraven read and reread these brief lines, and stood and stared at -Sir Roger Trajenna.</p> - -<p>"Good heavens! You got this through the post-office?"</p> - -<p>"I did, an hour ago, and came here at once. Do you believe it?"</p> - -<p>"How can I tell? Let us hope it may be true. It is of a piece with the -rest of the mystery. The writing, as usual in these anonymous letters, -is disguised. Can Mollie herself be the writer?"</p> - -<p>"Mollie!" The baronet grew fearfully pale at the bare suggestion. "Why -on earth should my affianced wife write like that? Don't you see it say -a there, 'She will never be your wife?' Mollie, my bride, would never -say that."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven was not so sure, but he did not say so. He had very little -faith in Miss Dane's stability, even in a matter of this kind.</p> - -<p>"It is the work of some enemy," said Sir Roger, "and, as such, to be -disregarded. Like all anonymous letters, it is only worthy of contempt."</p> - -<p>People always say that of anonymous communications; but the anonymous -communications invariably have their effect, notwithstanding.</p> - -<p>"I will continue my search," pursued Sir Roger, firmly. "I will offer -yet higher rewards. I will employ still more detectives. I will place -this letter in their hands. No stone shall be left unturned—no money -shall be spared. If I lose Mollie, life is not worth the having."</p> - -<p>He rose to go. Mr. Walraven folded up the mysterious epistle and handed -it back.</p> - -<p>"I see it is postmarked in the city. If the writer really knows aught of -Mollie, she must be nearer at hand than we imagine. Would to Heaven the -week were up."</p> - -<p>"Then you have faith in this?" said the baronet, looking astonished.</p> - -<p>"I have hope, my dear sir. It is very easy believing in what we wish to -come true. There may be something in it. Who knows?"</p> - -<p>The baronet shook his head.</p> - -<p>"I wish I could think so. I sometimes fear we will never see her again. -Poor child! Poor little Mollie! Heaven only knows what you may not have -suffered ere this!"</p> - -<p>"Let us not despair. Pray, resume your seat. I am quite alone this -stormy night, Sir Roger. Mrs. Walraven has gone to the opera."</p> - -<p>But the baronet moved resolutely to the door.</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Mr. Walraven; but I am fit company for no one. I have been -utterly miserable since that fatal night. I can find rest nowhere. I -will not inflict my wearisome society upon you, my friend. Good-night!"</p> - -<p>The week passed. As Sir Roger said, the inquiries and rewards were -doubled—trebled; but all in vain. No trace—not the faintest shadow of -trace—of the lost one could be found. The mystery deepened and darkened -every day.</p> - -<p>The week expired. On its last night there met at the Walraven mansion a -few friends, to debate what steps had better next be taken.</p> - -<p>"In the council of many there is wisdom," thought Mr. Carl Walraven; so -that there were present, besides Sir Roger Trajenna, Dr. Oleander, Mr. -Sardonyx, Hugh Ingelow, and one or two more wiseacres, all anxious about -the missing bride.</p> - -<p>The bevy of gentlemen were assembled in the drawing-room, conversing -with solemn, serious faces, and many dubious shakes of the head.</p> - -<p>Sir Roger sat the picture of pale despair. Mr. Walraven looked harassed -half to death. The other gentlemen, were preternaturally grave.</p> - -<p>"It is of no use." Sir Roger was saying. "Those who abducted her have -laid their plans too well. She will never be found."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure she was abducted?" asked Dr. Oleander, doubtfully. "Is it -not just possible, my dear Sir Roger, she may have gone off of herself?"</p> - -<p>Everybody stared at this audacious suggestion.</p> - -<p>"There is no such possibility, Doctor Oleander," said Sir Roger, -haughtily. "The bare insinuation is an insult. Miss Dane was my plighted -wife of her own free will."</p> - -<p>"Your pardon, Sir Roger. Yet, please remember, Miss Dane was a highly -eccentric young lady, and the rules that hold good in other cases fail -here. She was accustomed to do most extraordinary things, for the mere -sake of being odd and uncommon, as I take it. Her guardian will bear me -out; therefore I still cling to the possibility."</p> - -<p>"Besides, young ladies possessing sound lungs will hardly permit -themselves to be carried off without raising an outcry," said Mr. -Sardonyx; "and in this case there was none. The faintest cry would have -been heard."</p> - -<p>"Neither were there any traces of a struggle," put in Mr. Ingelow, "and -the chamber window was found unfastened, as if the bride had loosed it -herself and stepped out."</p> - -<p>Sir Roger looked angrily around, with a glance that seemed to ask if -they were all in a conspiracy against him; but, before he could speak, -the door-bell rang loudly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven remembered the anonymous note, and started violently. An -instant later, they heard a servant open the door, and then a wild, -ringing shriek echoed through the house.</p> - -<p>There was one simultaneous rush out of the drawing-room, and -down-stairs. There, in the hall, stood Wilson, the footman, staring and -gasping as if he had seen a ghost; and there, in the door-way, a -silvery, shining vision, in the snowy bridal robes she had worn last, -stood Mollie Dane!</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> - -<h3>THE PARSON'S LITTLE STORY.</h3> - - -<p>There was a dead pause; blank amazement sat on every face; no one -stirred for an instant. Then, with a great cry of joy, the Welsh baronet -sprung forward and caught his lost bride in his arms.</p> - -<p>"My Mollie—my Mollie! My darling!"</p> - -<p>But his darling, instead of returning his rapturous embrace, disengaged -herself with a sudden jerk.</p> - -<p>"Pray, Sir Roger, don't make a scene! Guardy, how d'ye do? Is it after -dinner? I'm dreadfully tired and hungry!"</p> - -<p>"Mollie! Good heavens, Mollie! is this really you?" gasped Mr. Walraven, -staring aghast.</p> - -<p>"Now—now!" cried Miss Dane, testily; "what's the good of your asking -ridiculous questions, Guardy Walraven? Where's your eyesight? Don't you -see it's me? Will you kindly let me pass, gentlemen? or am I to stand -here all night on exhibition?"</p> - -<p>Evidently the stray lamb had returned to the fold in shocking bad -temper. The gentlemen barring her passage instantly made way, and Mollie -turned to ascend the staircase.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to my room, Guardy," she condescended to say, with her foot -on the first carpeted step, "and you will please send Lucy up with tea -and toast immediately. I'm a great deal too tired to offer any -explanation to-night. I feel as if I had been riding about in a -hackney-carriage for a century or two, like Peter Rugg, the missing -man—if you heard of Peter;" with which Miss Dane toiled slowly and -wearily up the grand staircase, and the group of gentlemen were left in -the hall below blankly gazing in one another's faces.</p> - -<p>"Eminently characteristic," observed Mr. Ingelow, the first to break the -silence, with a soft laugh.</p> - -<p>"Upon my word," said Dr. Oleander, with his death's-head smile, "Miss -Mollie's return is far more remarkable than her departure! That young -lady's <i>sang-froid</i> requires to be seen to be believed in."</p> - -<p>"Where can she have been?" asked Lawyer Sardonyx, helplessly taking -snuff.</p> - -<p>The two men most interested in the young lady's return said nothing: -they were far beyond that. They could only look at each other in mute -astonishment. At last—</p> - -<p>"The anonymous letter did speak the truth," observed Mr. Walraven.</p> - -<p>"What anonymous letter?" asked Lawyer Sardonyx, sharply.</p> - -<p>"Sir Roger received an anonymous letter a week ago, informing him Mollie -would be back a week after its date. We neither of us paid any attention -to it, and yet, lo! it has come true."</p> - -<p>"Have you that letter about you, Sir Roger?" inquired the lawyer. "I -should like to see it, if you have no objection."</p> - -<p>Mechanically Sir Roger put his hand in his pocket, and produced the -document. The lawyer glanced keenly over it.</p> - -<p>"'One Who Knows.' Ah! 'One Who Knows' is a woman, I am certain. That's a -woman's hand, I am positive. Look here, Oleander!"</p> - -<p>"My opinion exactly! Couldn't possibly be Miss Dane's own writing, could -it?" once more with his spectral smile.</p> - -<p>"Sir!" cried the baronet, reddening angrily.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon. But look at the case dispassionately, Sir Roger. -My previous impression that Miss Dane was not forcibly abducted is -continued by the strange manner of her return."</p> - -<p>"Mine also," chimed in Lawyer Sardonyx.</p> - -<p>"Suppose we all postpone forming an opinion on the subject," said the -lazy voice of the young artist, "until to-morrow, and allow Miss Dane, -when the has recovered from her present fatigue and hunger, to explain -for herself."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Ingelow"—Mr. Walraven turned a grateful glance upon the -lounging artist—"and, meantime, gentlemen, let us adjourn to the -drawing-room. Standing talking here I don't admire."</p> - -<p>He led the way; the others followed—Sir Roger last of all, lost in a -maze of bewilderment that utterly spoiled his joy at his bride's return.</p> - -<p>"What can it mean? What can it mean?" he kept perpetually asking -himself. "What is all this mystery? Surely—surely it can not be as -these men say! Mollie can not have gone off of herself!"</p> - -<p>It was rather dull the remainder of the evening. The guests took their -departure early. Sir Roger lingered behind the rest, and when alone with -him the master of the house summoned Lucy. That handmaiden appeared, her -eyes dancing with delight in her head.</p> - -<p>"Where is your mistress, Lucy?" Mr. Walraven asked.</p> - -<p>"Gone to bed, sir," said Lucy, promptly.</p> - -<p>"You brought her up supper?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"What did she say to you?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing much, sir, only that she was famished, and jolted to death in -that old carriage; and then she turned me out, saying she felt as though -she could sleep a week."</p> - -<p>"Nothing more?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing more, sir."</p> - -<p>Lucy was dismissed.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven turned to the baronet sympathizingly.</p> - -<p>"I feel as deeply mystified and distressed about this matter as even you -can do, my dear Sir Roger; but you perceive there is nothing for it but -to wait. Oleander was right this evening when he said the rules that -measure other women fail with Mollie. She is an original, and we must be -content to bide her time. Come early to-morrow—come to breakfast—and -doubtless all will be explained to our satisfaction."</p> - -<p>And so Mr. Walraven thought, and he fancied he understood Mollie pretty -well; but even Mr. Walraven did not know the depth of aggravation his -flighty ward was capable of.</p> - -<p>Sir Roger did come early on the morrow—ridiculously early, Mrs. Carl -said, sharply; but then Mrs. Carl was exasperated beyond everything at -Mollie presuming to return at all. She was sure she had got rid of her -so nicely—so sure Mistress Mollie had come to grief in some way for her -sins—that it was a little too bad to have her come walking coolly back -and taking possession again, as if nothing had happened.</p> - -<p>Breakfast hour arrived, but Miss Dane did not arrive with it. They -waited ten minutes, when Mrs. Carl lost patience and protested angrily -she would not wait an instant longer.</p> - -<p>"Eccentricity is a little too mild a word to apply to your ward's -actions, Mr. Walraven," she said, turning angrily upon her husband. -"Mollie Dane is either a very mad girl or a very wicked one. In either -case, she is a fit subject for a lunatic asylum, and the sooner she is -incased in a strait-jacket and her antics ended, the better."</p> - -<p>"Madame!" thundered Mr. Walraven, furiously, while the baronet reddened -with rage to the roots of his silvery hair.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Walraven," said Mrs. Walraven, coolly, -"not afraid to speak my mind, either. None but a lunatic would act as -she has acted, running away on her wedding-night and coming back a -fortnight after. The idea of her being forcibly abducted is all stuff -and nonsense. Heaven only knows where the past two weeks have been -spent!"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Walraven," said the Welsh baronet; with awful, suppressed passion, -"you forget you speak of my future wife."</p> - -<p>"I forget nothing, Sir Roger Trajenna. When Miss Dane gives a -satisfactory explanation of her conduct it will be quite time enough to -take her part. Mr. Walraven are you going to eat your breakfast, or am -I to take it alone?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven seized the bell-rope and nearly tore it down. A -maid-servant appeared.</p> - -<p>"Go up to Miss Dane's room and tell her we are waiting breakfast!" -roared Mr. Walraven in a stentorian voice.</p> - -<p>The girl obeyed in dire alarm. In an instant she was back.</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane's not up yet, and says she doesn't expect to be for some -time. She says you'd better not wait for her, as you will very likely be -painfully hungry if you do."</p> - -<p>"I thought so," remarked Mrs. Carl, shortly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven bit his lip, the baronet looked like a thundercloud, but -both took their places. To all but the mistress of the mansion the -breakfast business was a dead failure. Mrs. Carl ate with a very good -appetite, finished her meal, arose, rang the bell, and ordered the -carriage to be ready in an hour.</p> - -<p>The gentlemen adjourned to the library to smoke and wait. The hour -elapsed. Mrs. Walraven departed in state, and dead calm fell upon the -house. Another hour—the waiting twain were growing fidgety and nervous, -crackling their newspapers and puffing at their cigars.</p> - -<p>"I vow that mad girl is making me as hysterical as a cranky old maid!" -growled Mr. Walraven. "If she doesn't appear in half an hour, I'll go up -to her room and carry her down willy-nilly!"</p> - -<p>"Would yon really be so cruel, guardy?" said a soft voice, and wheeling -round, the astonished pair saw the culprit before them. "Have you no -pity for your poor little Mollie, and can't you let her be as lazy as -she pleases? Good-morning, Sir Roger Trajenna."</p> - -<p>How lovely Mollie looked! The golden curls fell in a shining shower over -the dainty white cashmere robe, belted with blue velvet, soft white lace -and a diamond pin sparkling at the rounded throat. She came forward with -a bright smile and outstretched hand to greet them.</p> - -<p>"I was cross last night, you know," she said, "and couldn't properly -speak to my friends. Traveling steadily, for goodness knows how many -hours, in a bumping coach, would wear out the patience of a saint—and -you know I'm not a saint!"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mr. Walraven; "very far from it. Nearer the other thing, I -suspect."</p> - -<p>"Now, guardy," said Mollie, reproachfully, "how can you? And after I've -been lost, and you've been all distracted about me, too! Oh, how I -should like to have seen the fuss and the uproar, and the dismay and -distraction generally! Do tell me what you all thought."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you nothing of the sort," said her guardian, sternly. "Have -you no feeling in that flinty heart of yours, Mollie Dane?"</p> - -<p>"Well, now, guardy, if you'll believe me, I'm not so sure I've got a -heart at all. There's something that beats in here"—tapping lightly -on her white bodice—"but for going frantic with love or hate, or -jealousy or sorrow, or any of those hysterical things that other -people's hearts seem made for, I don't believe I have. I tell you this -frankly"—glancing sideways at Sir Roger Trajenna—"in order to warn you -and everybody not to be too fond of me. I'm not worth it, you see, and -if you take me for more than my value, and get disappointed afterward, -the fault's not mine, but yours."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven looked at her in surprise.</p> - -<p>"Rather a lengthy speech, isn't it, Mollie? Suppose you leave off -lecturing, and tell us where you've been for the last two weeks."</p> - -<p>"Where do you suppose I've been?"</p> - -<p>"We can't suppose on such a question; it is impossible. I desire you to -tell us."</p> - -<p>"And if I don't, guardy?"</p> - -<p>She looked up at him rather defiantly—seated on a low stool, her elfish -chin in her elfish hand, her pretty little rose-bloom face peeping -brightly out from the scented yellow curls.</p> - -<p>"Mollie!"</p> - -<p>"Guardy, see here: it's of no use getting cross. I can't tell you where -I've been, because I don't know myself."</p> - -<p>"Mollie!"</p> - -<p>"It's true as preaching, guardy. You know I don't tell fibs—except in -fun. I don't know where I was, and so I can't tell you, and I'd a good -deal rather you wouldn't ask me."</p> - -<p>"Mollie!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, what's the use of Mollieing?" cried the young lady, waxing -impatient. "I was taken somewhere, and I don't know where—'pon my word -and honor, I don't—and I was kept a prisoner in a nasty room, by people -I don't know, to punish me for flirting, I was told; and when I was -there two weeks, and punished sufficiently, Heaven knows, I was fetched -home. Guardy, there's everything I know or can tell you about the -matter. Now, please be good, and don't bother with tiresome questions."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven stood and looked at her, a petrified gazer. Such unheard-of -impudence! Sir Roger Trajenna took up the catechism.</p> - -<p>"Your pardon, Mollie, but I must ask you a few more questions. There was -a young person brought you a letter on the night we were—" His voice -failed. "May I ask who was that young person, and what were the contents -of that letter?"</p> - -<p>Mollie looked up, frowning impatiently. But the baronet was so pale and -troubled asking his questions that she had not the heart to refuse.</p> - -<p>"That young person, Sir Roger, called herself Sarah Grant. The letter -purported to come from a woman who knew me before I knew myself. It told -me she was dying, and had important revelations to make to me—implored -me to hasten at once if I would see her alive. I believed the letter, -and went with Sarah. That letter, Sir Roger, was a forgery and a trap."</p> - -<p>"Into which you fell?"</p> - -<p>"Into which I fell headlong. The greatest ninny alive could not have -been snared more easily."</p> - -<p>"You have no idea who perpetrated this atrocity?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie, "no idea. I wish I had! If I wouldn't make him sup -sorrow in spoonfuls, my name's not Mollie! There, Sir Roger, that will -do. You've heard all I've got to tell, and the better way will be to ask -no more questions. If you think I am not sufficiently explicit—if you -think I keep anything back that you have a right to know—why, there is -only one course left. You can take it, and welcome. I release you from -all ties to me. I shall think you perfectly justified, and we will -continue the best possible friends." She said it firmly, with an eye -that flashed and a cheek that burned. "There is only one thing can make -us quarrel, Sir Roger—that is, asking me questions I don't choose to -answer. And I don't choose to answer in the present case."</p> - -<p>"But I insist upon your answering, Mollie Dane!" burst out Carl -Walraven. "I don't choose to be mystified and humbugged in this -egregious manner. I insist upon a complete explanation."</p> - -<p>"Do you, indeed, Mr. Walraven? And how are you going to get it?"</p> - -<p>"From you, Mollie Dane."</p> - -<p>"Not if I know myself—and I rather fancy I do! Oh, no, Mr. -Walraven—no, you don't! I shan't say another word to you, or to any -other living being, until I choose; and it's no use bullying, for you -can't make me, you know. I've given Sir Roger his alternative, and I can -give you yours. If you don't fancy my remaining here under a cloud, why, -I can go as I came, free as the wind that blows. You've only to say the -word, Guardy Walraven!"</p> - -<p>The blue eyes flashed as Carl Walraven had never seen them flash before; -the pink-tinged cheeks flamed rose-red; but her voice never rose, and -she kept her quaint seat on the stool.</p> - -<p>"Cricket! Cricket! Cricket!" was "guardy's" reproachful cry.</p> - -<p>"You dear old thing! You wouldn't like to lose your hateful little -tom-boy, would you? Well, you shan't, either. I only meant to scare you -that time. You'll ask me no more nasty questions, and I'll stay and be -your Cricket the same as ever, and we'll try and forget the little -episode of the past two weeks. And as for you, Sir Roger, don't you do -anything rash. Just think things over, and make sure you're perfectly -satisfied, before you have anything to do with me, for I don't intend to -explain any more than I have explained. I'm a good-for-nothing, giddy -little moth, I know; but I don't really want to deceive anybody. No; -don't speak on impulse, dear Sir Roger. Take a week or two, and think -about it."</p> - -<p>She kissed her hand coquettishly to the two gentlemen, and tripped out -of the room.</p> - -<p>And there they sat, looking at each other, altogether bewildered and -dazed, and altogether more infatuated about her than ever.</p> - -<p>Society was electrified at finding Miss Dane back, and looked eagerly -for the sequel to this little romance. They got it from Mr. Walraven.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven, bland as oil, told them his ward had received on her -bridal night a summons to the bedside of a dying and very near relative. -Miss Dane, ever impulsive and eccentric, had gone. She had remained with -the dying relative for a fortnight, and merely for mischief—no need to -tell them how mischievous his ward was—had kept the whole matter a -secret. It was very provoking, certainly, but was just like provoking -Mollie Dane.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven related this little fable smiling sweetly, and with -excellent grace. But society took the story for what it was worth, -and shook its head portentously over Miss Dane and her mysteries.</p> - -<p>Nobody knew who she was, where she came from, or what relation she -bore to Mr. Walraven, and nobody believed Mr. Walraven and his little -romance.</p> - -<p>But as Mesdames Walraven, mother and wife, countenanced the extraordinary -creature with the flighty way and amber curls, and as she was the ward of -a millionaire, why, society smiled graciously, and welcomed Mollie back -with charming sweetness.</p> - -<p>A fortnight passed—the fortnight of probation she had given Sir Roger. -There was a grand dinner-party at some commercial nabob's up the avenue, -and all the Walraven family were there. There, too, was the Welsh -baronet, stately and grand-seigneur-like as ever; there were Dr. -Oleander, Lawyer Sardonyx, Hugh Ingelow, and the little witch who had -thrown her wicked sorceries over them, brighter, more sparkling, more -lovely than ever.</p> - -<p>And at the dinner-party Mollie was destined to receive a shock; for, -just before they paired off to the dining-room, there entered a late -guest, announced as the "Reverend Mr. Rashleigh," and, looking in the -Reverend Mr. Rashleigh's face, Mollie Dane recognized him at once.</p> - -<p>She was standing at the instant, as it chanced, beside Hugh Ingelow, -gayly helping him to satirize a magnificent "diamond wedding" they had -lately attended; but at the sight of the portly, commonplace gentleman, -the words seemed to freeze on her lips.</p> - -<p>With her eyes fixed on his face, her own slowly whitening until it -was blanched, Mollie stood and gazed and gazed. Hugh Ingelow looked -curiously from one to the other.</p> - -<p>"In Heaven's name, Miss Mollie, do you see the Marble Guest, or some -invisible familiar, peeping over that fat gentleman's shoulder? What do -you see? You look as though you were going to faint."</p> - -<p>"Do you know that gentleman?" she managed to ask.</p> - -<p>"Do I know him—Reverend Raymond Rashleigh? Better than I know myself, -Miss Dane. When I was a little chap in roundabouts they used to take me -to his church every Sunday, and keep me in wriggling torments through a -three-hours' sermon. Yes, I know him, to my sorrow."</p> - -<p>"He is a clergyman, then?" Mollie said, slowly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow stared at the odd question.</p> - -<p>"I have always labored under that impression, Miss Dane, and so does the -Reverend Mr. Rashleigh himself, I fancy. If you choose, I'll present -him, and then you can cross-question him at your leisure."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" cried Mollie, detaining him; "not for the world! I don't wish -to make his acquaintance. See, they are filing off! I fall to your lot, -I suppose."</p> - -<p>She took her rejected suitor's arm—somehow, she was growing to like -to be with Hugh Ingelow—and they entered the dining-room together. But -Mollie was still very, very pale, and very unusually quiet.</p> - -<p>Her face and neck gleamed against her pink dinner-dress like snow, and -her eyes wandered furtively ever and anon over to the Reverend Mr. -Rashleigh.</p> - -<p>She listened to every word that he spoke as though they were the fabled -pearls and diamonds of the fairy tale that dropped from his lips.</p> - -<p>"Positively, Miss Dane," Hugh Ingelow remarked in his lazy voice, "it is -love at first sight with the Reverend Raymond. Think better of it, pray; -he's fat and forty, and has one wife already."</p> - -<p>"Hush!" said Mollie, imperiously.</p> - -<p>And Mr. Ingelow, stroking his mustache meditatively, hushed, and -listened to a story the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh was about to relate.</p> - -<p>"So extraordinary a story," he said, glancing around him, "that I can -hardly realize it myself or credit my own senses. It is the only -adventure of my life, and I am free to confess I wish it may remain so.</p> - -<p>"It is about three weeks ago. I was sitting, one stormy night—Tuesday -night it was—in my study, in after-dinner mood, enjoying the luxury -of a good fire and a private clerical cigar, when a young -woman—respectable-looking young person—entered, and informed me that a -sickly relative, from whom I have expectations, was dying, and wished to -see me immediately.</p> - -<p>"Of course I started up at once, donned hat and greatcoat, and followed -my respectable young person into a cab waiting at the door. Hardly was I -in when I was seized by some invisible personage, bound, blindfolded, -and gagged, and driven through the starry spheres, for all I know, for -hours and hours interminable.</p> - -<p>"Presently we stopped. I was led out—led into a house, upstairs, my -uncomfortable bandages removed, and the use of my eyesight restored.</p> - -<p>"I was in a large room, furnished very much like anybody's parlor, and -brilliantly lighted. My companion of the carriage was still at my elbow. -I turned to regard him. My friends, he was masked like a Venetian bravo, -and wore a romantic inky cloak, like a Roman toga, that swept the floor.</p> - -<p>"I sat aghast, the cold perspiration oozing from every pore. I make -light of it now, but I could see nothing to laugh at then. Was I going -to be robbed and murdered? Why had I been decoyed here?</p> - -<p>"My friend of the mask did not leave me long in suspense. Not death and -its horrors was to be enacted, but marriage—marriage, my friends—and I -was to perform the ceremony.</p> - -<p>"I listened to him like a man in a dream. He himself was the bridegroom. -The bride was to appear masked, also, and I was only to hear their -Christian names—Ernest—Mary. He offered no explanations, no apologies; -he simply stated facts. I was to marry them and ask no questions, and I -was to be conveyed safely home the same night. If I refused—</p> - -<p>"My masked gentleman paused, and left an awful hiatus for me to fill up. -I did not refuse—by no means. It has always been my way to make the -best of a bad bargain—of two evils to choose the lesser. I consented.</p> - -<p>"The bridegroom with the black mask quitted the room, and returned with -a bride in a white mask. She was all in white, as it is right and proper -to be—flowing veil, orange wreath, trailing silk robe—everything quite -nice. But the white mask spoiled all. She was undersized and very -slender, and there was one peculiarity about her I noticed—an abundance -of bright, golden ringlets."</p> - -<p>The reverend gentleman paused an instant to take breath.</p> - -<p>Mollie Dane, scarcely breathing herself, listening absorbed, here -became conscious, by some sort of prescience, of the basilisk gaze her -guardian's wife had fixed upon her.</p> - -<p>The strangest, smile sat on her arrogant face as she looked steadfastly -at Mollie's flowing yellow curls.</p> - -<p>"I married that mysterious pair," went on the clergyman—"Ernest and -Mary. There were two witnesses—my respectable young woman and the -coachman; there was the ring—everything necessary and proper."</p> - -<p>Mollie's left hand was on the table. A plain, thick band of gold gleamed -on the third finger. She hastily snatched it away, but not before Mrs. -Walraven's black eyes saw it.</p> - -<p>"I was brought home," concluded the clergyman, "and left standing, as -morning broke, close to my own door, and I have never heard or seen my -mysterious masks since. There's an adventure for you!"</p> - -<p>The ladies rose from the table. As they passed into the drawing-room, -a hand fell upon Mollie's shoulder. Glancing back, she saw the face of -Mrs. Carl Walraven, lighted with a malicious smile.</p> - -<p>"Such a queer story, Mollie! And such an odd bride—undersized, very -slender, golden ringlets—name, Mary! My pretty Cricket, I think I know -where you passed that mysterious fortnight!"</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> - -<h3>A MIDNIGHT TETE-A-TETE.</h3> - -<p>Mollie Dane sat alone in her pretty room. A bright fire burned in the -grate. Old Mme. Walraven liked coal-fires, and would have them -throughout the house. It was very late—past midnight—but the gas -burned full flare, its garish flame subdued by globes of tinted glass, -and Mollie, on a low stool before the fire, was still in all the -splendor of her pink silk dinner-dress, her laces, her pearls.</p> - -<p>Mollie's considering-cap was on, and Mollie's dainty brows were -contracted, and the rosebud month ominously puckered. Miss Dane was -doing what she did not often do—thinking—and the thoughts chasing one -another through her flighty brain were evidently the reverse of -pleasant.</p> - -<p>"So I'm really married," mused the young lady—"really and truly -married!—and I've been thinking all along it was only a sham ceremony."</p> - -<p>She lifted up her left hand and looked at the shining wedding-ring.</p> - -<p>"Ernest! Such a pretty name! And that's all I know about him. Oh, who -is he, among all the men I know—who? It's not Doctor Oleander—I'm -certain it's not, although the height and shape are the same; and I -don't think it's Sardonyx, and I know it's not Hugh Ingelow—handsome -Hugh!—because he hasn't the pluck, and he's a great deal too lazy. If -it's the lawyer or the doctor, I'll have a divorce, certain. If it were -the artist—more's the pity it's not—I—well, I shouldn't ask for a -divorce. I do like Hugh! I like him more and more every day, and I -almost wish I hadn't played that shameful trick upon him. I know he -loves me dearly—poor little, mad-headed me! And I—oh! how could I -think to marry Sir Roger Trajenna, knowing in my heart I loved Hugh? -Dear, dear! it's such a pity I can't be good, and take to love-making, -and marriage, and shirt-buttons, like other girls! But I can't; it's not -in me. I was born a rattle-pate, and I don't see how any one can blame -me for letting 'nater caper.'"</p> - -<p>She rose up impatiently and began pacing the room—always her first -impulse in moments of perplexity.</p> - -<p>"I'm a mystery and a puzzle to myself and to everybody else. I don't -know who I am, nor what my real name may be—if I have any right to a -name! I don't know what I am to this Mr. Walraven, and I don't know who -that mysterious woman, Miriam, is. I don't know anything. I have a -husband, and I don't know him—shouldn't recognize him if I met him -face to face this instant. I'm like the mysterious orphans in the -story-books, and I expect it will turn out I have a duke for a father, -somewhere or other."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane walked to the window, drew the curtain, and looked out.</p> - -<p>The full April moon, round and white, shone down in silvery radiance -upon the deserted avenue; the sky was aglitter with myriad stars; the -rattling of belated vehicles came, faint and far off, on the windless -night.</p> - -<p>No-one was visible—not even a stray "guardian of the night," treading -his solitary round—and Mollie, after one glance at the starry concave, -was about to drop the curtain and retire, when a tall, dark figure came -fluttering up the street, pausing before the Walraven mansion, and -gazing up earnestly at its palatial front.</p> - -<p>Mollie recognized that towering form instantly, and, impulsively opening -the sash, she leaned forward and called:</p> - -<p>"Miriam!"</p> - -<p>The woman heard her, responded, and advanced.</p> - -<p>Mollie leaned further out.</p> - -<p>"Have you come to see me?"</p> - -<p>"I should like to see you. I heard you had returned, and came here, -though I did not expect to meet you at this hour."</p> - -<p>"Wait one moment," said Mollie; "I will go down and let you in."</p> - -<p>She closed the window and flew down-stairs, opened the house door -softly, and beckoned.</p> - -<p>Miriam entered. Ten minutes later, and they were safely closeted in the -young lady's cozy room.</p> - -<p>"Sit down, Aunt Miriam, and take off your shawl. You look cold and -wretched and half starved."</p> - -<p>The woman turned her hollow eyes mournfully upon her. They were indeed a -contrast—the bright vision in the rose silk dress, the floating amber -curls, the milky pearls, the foamy lace, and the weird woman in the -wretched rags, with sunken cheeks and hollow, spectral eyes.</p> - -<p>"I am cold and wretched and half starved," she said, in a harsh -voice—"a miserable, homeless outcast, forsaken of God and man. My bed -is a bundle of filthy straw, my food a crust or a bone, my garments rags -from the gutters. And yet I accept my fate, since you are rich and well -and happy."</p> - -<p>"My poor, poor Miriam! Let me go and get you something to eat, and a -glass of wine to refresh you. It is dreadful to see any human being so -destitute."</p> - -<p>She started impetuously up, but Miriam stretched forth her hand to -detain her, her fierce eyes flaming up.</p> - -<p>"Not half so dreadful, Mollie Dane, as the eating the bread or drinking -the cup of Carl Walraven! No; I told him before, and I tell you now, I -would die in a kennel, like a stray dog, before I would accept help from -him."</p> - -<p>"Miriam!"</p> - -<p>Miriam made an impatient gesture.</p> - -<p>"Don't let us talk about me. Let us talk about yourself. It is my first -chance since you came here. You are well and happy, are you not? You -look both."</p> - -<p>"I am well and I am happy; that is, as happy as I can be, shrouded in -mystery. Miriam, I have been thinking about myself. I have learned to -think, of late, and I would give a year of my life to know who I am."</p> - -<p>"What do you want to know?" Miriam asked, gloomily.</p> - -<p>"Who I am; what my name may be; who were my parents—everything that I -ought to know."</p> - -<p>"Why do you speak to me about it?"</p> - -<p>"Because you know, I am certain; because you can tell me, if you will. -Tell me, Miriam—tell me!"</p> - -<p>She leaned forward, her ringed hands clasped, her blue eyes lighted and -eager, her pretty face aglow. But Miriam drew back with a frown.</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to tell you, Mollie—nothing that would make you better -or happier to hear. Be content and ask no questions."</p> - -<p>"I can't be content, and I must ask questions!" the girl cried, -passionately. "If you cared for me, as you seem to, you would tell me! -What is Mr. Walraven to me? Why has he brought me here?"</p> - -<p>"Ask him."</p> - -<p>"He won't tell me. He says he took a fancy to me, seeing me play -'Fanchon' at K——, and brought me here and adopted me. A very likely -story! No, Miriam; I am silly enough, Heaven knows, but I am not quite -so silly as that. He came after me because you sent him, and because I -have some claim on him he dare not forego. What is it, Miriam? Am I his -daughter?"</p> - -<p>Miriam sat and stared at her a moment in admiring wonder, then her dark, -gaunt face relaxed into a grim smile.</p> - -<p>"What a sharp little witch it is! His daughter, indeed! What do you -think about it yourself? Does the voice of nature speak in your filial -heart, or is the resemblance between you so strong?"</p> - -<p>Mollie shook her sunny curls.</p> - -<p>"The 'voice of nature' has nothing to say in the matter, and I am no more -like him than a white chick is like a mastiff. But it might be so, you -know, for all that."</p> - -<p>"I know. Would it make you any happier to know you were his daughter?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Mollie, thoughtfully. "I dare say not. For, if I -were his daughter and had a right to his name, I would probably bear -it, and be publicly acknowledged as such before now; and if I am his -daughter, with no right to his name, I know I would not live ten-minutes -under the same roof with him after finding it out."</p> - -<p>"Sharp little Mollie! Ask no questions, then, and I'll tell you no lies. -Take the goods the gods provide, and be content."</p> - -<p>"But, Miriam, are you really my aunt?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; that much is true."</p> - -<p>"And your name is Dane?"</p> - -<p>"It is."</p> - -<p>"And my mother was your sister, and I bear my mother's name?"</p> - -<p>The dark, weather-beaten face of the haggard woman lighted up with a -fiery glow, and into either eye leaped a devil.</p> - -<p>"Mollie Dane, if you ever want me to speak to you again, never breathe -the name of your mother. Whatever she did, and whatever she was, the -grave has closed over her, and there let her lie. I never want to hear -her name this side of eternity."</p> - -<p>Mollie looked almost frightened; she shrunk away with a wistful little -sigh.</p> - -<p>"I am never to know, then, if seems, and I am to go on through life a -cheat and a lie. It is very hard. People have found out already I am not -what I seem."</p> - -<p>"How?" sharply.</p> - -<p>"Why, the night I was deluded from home, it was by a letter signed -'Miriam' purporting to come from you, saying you were dying, and that -you wanted to tell me all. I went, and walked straight into the -cunningest trap that ever was set for a poor little girl."</p> - -<p>"You have no idea from whom that letter came?"</p> - -<p>"Not the slightest. I am pretty sure, though, it came from my husband."</p> - -<p>"Your—what?"</p> - -<p>"My husband, Miriam! You didn't know Miss Dane was a respectable married -woman, did you? It's true, however. I've been married over a month."</p> - -<p>There was no doubting the face with which it was said. Miriam sat -staring, utterly confounded.</p> - -<p>"Good heavens! Married! You never mean it, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"I do mean it. It's an accomplished fact, Mrs. Miriam Dane, and there's -my wedding-ring."</p> - -<p>She held up her left hand. Among the opals, and pearls, and pale -emeralds flashing there, gleamed a little circlet of plain gold—badge -of woman's servitude.</p> - -<p>"Married!" Miriam gasped, in indescribable consternation. "I thought you -were to marry Sir Roger Trajenna?"</p> - -<p>"So I was—so I would have, if I had been let alone. But that letter -from you came—that forgery, you know—and I was carried off and -married, willy-nilly, to somebody else. Who that somebody else is, I -don't know."</p> - -<p>"You don't know?"</p> - -<p>"Haven't the slightest idea! I've a good mind to tell you the story. I -haven't told any one yet, and the weight of a secret a month old is -getting a little too much for me. It would be a relief to get some one -else to keep it for me, and I fancy you could keep a secret as well as -any one else I know."</p> - -<p>"I can keep your secret, Mollie. Go on."</p> - -<p>So Mollie began and related the romantic story of that fortnight she had -passed away from home.</p> - -<p>"And you consented to marry him," Miriam exclaimed, when she had got -that far—"you consented to marry a man totally unknown to you, whose -face you had not even seen, whose name you did not even know, for the -sake of freedom? Mollie, you're nothing but a miserable little coward, -after all!"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so," said Mollie, defiantly. "But I would do it again, and -twice as much, for freedom. Think of being cooped up in four stifling -walls, shut in from the blessed sunshine and fresh air of heaven. I tell -you that man would have kept me there until now, and should have gone -stark, staring mad in half the time. Oh, dear!" cried Mollie, -impatiently, "I wish I was a gypsy, free and happy, to wander about all -day long, singing in the sunshine, to sleep at night under the waving -trees, to tell fortunes, and wear a pretty scarlet cloak, and never -know, when I got up in the morning, where I would lie down at night. -It's nothing but a nuisance, and a trouble, and a bother, being rich, -and dressing for dinner, and going to the opera and two or three parties -of a night, and being obliged to talk and walk and eat and sleep by line -and plummet. I hate it all!"</p> - -<p>"You're tired of it, then?" Miriam asked, with a curious smile.</p> - -<p>"Yes; just now I am. The fit will pass away, I suppose, as other similar -fits have passed."</p> - -<p>"I wonder you never take it into your head to go back upon the stage. -You liked that life?"</p> - -<p>"Liked it? Yes: and I will, too," said Mollie, recklessly, "some day, -when I'm more than usually aggravated. It strikes me, however, I should -like to find out my husband first."</p> - -<p>"Finish your story. You married this masked man?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; that very night, about midnight, we were married. Sarah came to me -early in the evening, and told me to be ready, that the clergyman would -be there, and that I was to be wedded under my Christian name, Mary, -alone. I still wore the wedding-robes in which I was to have been made -Lady Trajenna. To these a white silk mask, completely hiding my face, -was added, and I was led forth by my masked bridegroom into another -apartment, and stood face to face with a portly, reverend gentleman of -most clerical aspect and most alarmed face. I thought he had a familiar -look, but in the confusion of such a moment I could not place him. I -know him now, though—it was the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh, of St. -Pancras'. I've heard him preach dozens of times."</p> - -<p>"How came he to lend himself to such an irregular proceeding?"</p> - -<p>"By force, as I did. He was carried off in much the same fashion, and -scared pretty nearly out of his wits—married us to get free—like me -again. At the conclusion of the ceremony, I returned with Sarah to the -inner room, and the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh was safely taken home."</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Mollie sat looking with knitted brows into the fire.</p> - -<p>"Well?" questioned Miriam, sharply.</p> - -<p>"I stayed there a week," went on Mollie, hurriedly. "It was part of the -compact, and if he was to keep his, and liberate me, I was to remain -quietly as long as I had promised. But it was not so long in passing. I -had the range of two or three rooms—all with carefully closed blinds, -however—and I had a piano and plenty of books, and as much of Miss -Sarah Grant's society as I chose. There was nothing to be got out of -her, however, and I tried hard enough, goodness knows. You might as well -wring a dry sponge."</p> - -<p>"And the man you married?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, he was there, too—off and on everyday; but he kept me as much in -the dark as Sarah. He always persisted in speaking French to me—that I -might fail to recognize his voice, I dare say; and he spoke it as -fluently as a Frenchman. But he was really an agreeable companion, could -talk about everything I liked to talk about, could play the piano to a -charm, and I should have liked him immensely if he had not been my -husband, and if he had not worn that odious mask. Do you know, Miriam," -flashing a sudden look up, "if he had taken off that mask, and showed me -the handsome face of one of my rejected suitors I did not absolutely -abhor, I think I should have consented to stay with him always. He was -so nice to talk to, and I liked his bold stroke for a wife—so much in -the 'Dare-Devil Dick' style. But I would have been torn to pieces before -I'd have dropped a hint to that effect."</p> - -<p>"If it had been Doctor Oleander, would you have consented to stay with -him as his wife?"</p> - -<p>"Doctor Oleander? No. Didn't I say if it were some one I did not -absolutely abhor? I absolutely and utterly and altogether abhor and -detest Doctor Oleander!"</p> - -<p>"What is that? Some one is listening."</p> - -<p>Miriam had started in alarm to her feet; Mollie rose up also, and stood -hearkening. There had been a suppressed sound, like a convulsive sneeze, -outside the door. Mollie flung it wide in an instant. The hall lamp -poured down its subdued light all along the stately corridor, on -pictures and statues and cabinets, but no living thing was visible.</p> - -<p>"There is no one," said Mollie. "It was cats or rats, or the rising wind. -Every one in the house is asleep."</p> - -<p>She closed the door and went back to the fire. As she did so, a face -peeped out from behind a great, carved Indian cabinet, not far from the -door—a face lighted with a diabolical smile of triumph.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> - -<h3>"BLACK MASK"—"WHITE MASK."</h3> - - -<p>"Finish your story!" exclaimed Miriam, impatiently. "Morning is coming, -and like owls and bats and other noxious creatures, I hide from the -daylight. How did you escape?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't escape," said Mollie. "I couldn't. The week expired—my masked -husband kept his word and sent me home."</p> - -<p>"Sent you! Did he not fetch you?"</p> - -<p>"No; the man who drove the carriage—who, with the girl Sarah, witnessed -the marriage—brought me. Sarah bound me, although there was no -occasion, and the man led me down and put me in. Sarah accompanied me, -and I was driven to the very corner here. They let me out, and, before I -had time to catch my breath, were off and away."</p> - -<p>"And that is all?" said Miriam, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"All! I should think it was enough. It sounds more like a chapter out of -the 'Castle of Otranto,' or the 'Mysteries of Udolpho,' than an incident -in the life of a modern New York belle. For, of course, you know, Madame -Miriam," concluded the pretty coquette, tossing back airily all her -bright curls, "I am a belle—a reigning belle—the beauty of the -season!"</p> - -<p>"A little conceited, goosey girl—that's what you are, Mollie Dane, whom -ever this terrible event can not make serious and sensible."</p> - -<p>"Terrible event! Now, Miriam, I'm not so sure about that. If I liked -the hero of the adventure—and I have liked some of my rejected -flirtees, poor fellows!—I should admire his pluck, and fall straightway -in love with him for his romantic daring. It is so like what those old -fellows—knights and barons and things—used to do, you know. And if I -didn't like him—if it were Sardonyx or Oleander—sure, there would be -the fun and fame of having my name in all the papers in the country as -the heroine of the most romantic adventure of modern times. There would -be sensation novels and high-pressure melodramas manufactured out of it, -and I would figure in the Divorce Court, and wake up some day, like Lord -Byron, and find myself famous."</p> - -<p>Miriam listened to this rattle with a face of infinite contempt.</p> - -<p>"Silly child! It will ruin your prospects for life. Sir Roger will never -marry you now."</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie, composedly, "I don't think he will; for the simple -reason that I wouldn't have him."</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't have him? What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"What I say, auntie. I wouldn't marry him, or anybody else, just now. I -mean to find out who is my husband first."</p> - -<p>"Do they know this extraordinary story?"</p> - -<p>Mollie laughed.</p> - -<p>"No, poor things! And he and guardy are dying by inches of curiosity. -Guardy has concocted a story, and tells it with his blandest air to -everybody; and everybody smiles, and bows, and listens, and nobody -believes a word of it. And that odious Mrs. Carl—there's no keeping her -in the dark. She has the cunning of a serpent, that woman. She has an -inkling of the truth, already."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Mr. Rashleigh—the clergyman, you know, who was abducted to marry -us—was at a dinner-party this very day—or, rather, yesterday, for it's -two in the morning now—and at dinner he related his whole wonderful -adventure. Of course, he didn't see my face or know me; but he described -the bride—small, slender, with a profusion of golden ringlets. You -should have seen Mrs. Carl look across the table at me—you should have -heard her hiss in my ear, in her venomous, serpent-like way: 'I think I -know where you spent that fortnight.' I couldn't sleep to-night for -thinking of it, and that's how I came to be awake so late, and to see -you from the window. I'm not afraid of her; but I know she means me -mischief, if she can."</p> - -<p>Miriam gazed thoughtfully at her. She looked a very helpless, childish -little creature, sitting there—the youthful face looking out of that -sunshiny cloud of curls.</p> - -<p>"She is your deadly enemy, then, Mollie. Why does she dislike you so -much?"</p> - -<p>"Because I dislike her, I suppose, and always did, and she knew it. It -is a case of mutual repulsion. We were enemies at first sight. Then she -is jealous of me—of my influence with her husband. She is provoked that -she can not fathom the mystery of my belongings, and she thinks, I know, -I am Mr. Walraven's daughter, <i>sub rosa</i>; and, to cap the climax, I -won't marry her cousin, Doctor Oleander."</p> - -<p>"You seem to dislike Doctor Oleander very much?"</p> - -<p>"I do," said Mollie, pithily. "I'd give him and the handsome Blanche a -dose of strychnine each, with all the pleasure in life, if it wasn't a -hanging matter. I don't care about being hanged. It's bad enough to be -married and not know who your husband is."</p> - -<p>"It may be this Doctor Oleander."</p> - -<p>Mollie's eyes blazed up.</p> - -<p>"If it is!"—she caught her breath and stopped—"if it is, Miriam, I vow -I would blow his brains out first, and my own afterward! No, no, no! -Such a horrible thing couldn't be!"</p> - -<p>"Do you know, Mollie," said Miriam, slowly, "I think you are in love?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! do you really? Well, Miriam, you used to spae fortunes for a -living. Look into my palm now, and tell me who is the unhappy man."</p> - -<p>"Is this artist you speak of handsome and young?"</p> - -<p>"Handsome and young, and tolerably rich, and remarkably clever. Is it -he?"</p> - -<p>"I think it is."</p> - -<p>Mollie smiled softly, and looked into the glowing mask of coals.</p> - -<p>"You forget I refused him, Miriam."</p> - -<p>"Bah! a girl's caprice. If you discovered he was your mysterious -husband, would you blow out his brains and your own?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie, coolly. "I would much rather live with Hugh Ingelow -than die with him. Handsome Hugh." Her eyes softened and grew humid. -"You are right, Miriam. You can spae fortunes, I see. I do like Hugh, -dearly. But he is not the man."</p> - -<p>"No? Are you sure?"</p> - -<p>"Quite sure. He is too chivalrous, for one thing, to force a lady's -inclination."</p> - -<p>"Don't trust any of them. Their motto is: 'All fair in love!' And then, -you know, you played him a very shabby trick."</p> - -<p>"I know I did."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane laughed at the recollection.</p> - -<p>"And he said he would not forget."</p> - -<p>"So they all said. That's why I fear it may be one of the three."</p> - -<p>"And it is one of the three; and you are not the clever girl I give you -credit to be if you can not find it out."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Are they so much alike in height, and gait, and manner of speaking, and -fifty other things, that you can't identify him in spite of his mask?"</p> - -<p>"It is not so easy to recognize a masked man when he disguises himself -in a long cloak and speaks French in a feigned voice. Those three men -are very much of a height, and all are straight and slender. I tried and -tried again, I tell you, during that last week, and always failed. -Sometimes I thought it was one, and sometimes another."</p> - -<p>"Try once more," said Miriam, pithily.</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid of this masked man?"</p> - -<p>"Afraid? Certainly not. I have nothing to fear. Did he not keep his word -and restore me to my friends at the expiration of the week? You should -have heard him, Miriam, at that last interview—the eloquent, earnest, -impassioned way in which he bid me good-bye. I declare, I felt tempted -for an instant to say: 'Look here, Mr. Mask; if you love me like that, -and if you're absolutely not a fright, take off that ugly, black -death's-head you wear, and I'll stay with you always, since I am your -wife.' But I didn't."</p> - -<p>"You would not fear to meet him again, then?"</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, I should like it, of all things. There is a halo of -romance about this mysterious husband of mine that renders him intensely -interesting. Girls love romance dearly; and I'm only a girl, you know."</p> - -<p>"And the silliest girl I ever did know," said Miriam. "I believe you're -more than half in love with this man in the mask; and if it turns out to -be the artist, you will plump into his arms, forever and always."</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't wonder in the least," responded the young, lady, coolly. "I -never knew how much I liked poor dear Hugh until I gave him his <i>congé</i>. -He's so very, very, very handsome, you see, Miriam; and I adore beauty."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Find out if it's he—and find out at once."</p> - -<p>"More easily said than done, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all. You don't suppose he has left the city?"</p> - -<p>"No. He told me that he would not leave—that he would remain and watch -me, unseen and unknown."</p> - -<p>"Then, if you advertise—if you address him through the medium of the -daily papers—he will see and answer your advertisement."</p> - -<p>"Very probably. But he isn't going to tell me who he is. If he had any -intention of doing so, he would have done it last week."</p> - -<p>Miriam shook her head.</p> - -<p>"I'm not so sure about that. You never asked him to reveal himself. You -gave him no reason to suppose you would do otherwise than scorn and -flout him, let him be who he might. It is different now. If it is Hugh -Ingelow, you will forgive him all?"</p> - -<p>"Miriam, see here: why are you so anxious I should forgive this man?"</p> - -<p>"Because I want to see you some respectable man's wife; because I want -to see you safely settled in life, and no longer left to your own -caprices, or those of Carl Walraven. If you love this Hugh Ingelow, and -marry him, you may probably become a rational being and a sensible -matron yet."</p> - -<p>Mollie made a wry face.</p> - -<p>"The last thing I ever want to be. And I don't believe half a dozen -husbands would ever transform me into a 'sensible matron.' But go on, -all the same. I'm open to suggestion. What do you want me to do?"</p> - -<p>"Address this man. Ask him to appoint a meeting. Meet him. Tell him what -you have told me, and make him reveal himself. He will be sure to do it, -if he thinks there are grounds for hope."</p> - -<p>"And if it turns out to be Sardonyx or Oleander—and I have a -presentiment that it's the latter—what then?"</p> - -<p>"'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I don't believe it is -either. From what you tell me of them, I am sure neither would behave so -honorably at the last—keeping his promise and fetching you home."</p> - -<p>"There is something in that," said Mollie, thoughtfully. "Unless, -indeed, they grew tired of me, or were afraid to imprison me longer. And -my masked husband talked, at the parting, as neither of these reptiles -could talk. It may be some one of whom I have never thought—who knows? -I've had such a quantity of lovers that I couldn't possibly keep the run -of them. However, as I'm dying to meet him again, whoever he is, I'll -take your advice and address him."</p> - -<p>Miriam rose.</p> - -<p>"That is well. And now I must be going. It is past three, and New York -streets will presently be astir. I have a long way to go, and no wish to -be seen."</p> - -<p>"Miriam, stop. Can't I do anything to assist you? You are half starved, -I know: and so miserably clad. Do—do let me aid you?"</p> - -<p>"Never!" the woman cried, "while you are beneath this roof. If ever you -settle down in a house of your own, and your husband permits you to aid -so disreputable a being as I am, I may listen to you. All you have now -belongs to Carl Walraven; and to offer me a farthing of Carl Walraven's -money is to offer me the deadliest of insults."</p> - -<p>"How you hate him! how he must have wronged you!" Again that burning -blaze leaped into the woman's haggard eyes.</p> - -<p>"Ay, girl! hate and wrong are words too poor and weak to express it. But -I bide my time—and it will surely come—when I will have my revenge."</p> - -<p>She opened the door and passed out swiftly. The listener at the key-hole -barely escaped behind the cabinet—no more.</p> - -<p>Mollie, in her rosy silken robes, like a little goddess Aurora, followed -her out, down the stairs, and opened for her the house door.</p> - -<p>The first little pink clouds of the coming morn were blushing in the -east, and the rag-women, with their bags and hooks, were already astir.</p> - -<p>"When shall I see you again?" Mollie said.</p> - -<p>Miriam turned and looked at her, half wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"Do you really wish to see me again, Mollie—such a wretched-looking -being as I am?"</p> - -<p>"Are you not my aunt?" Mollie cried, passionately. "How do I know there -is another being on this earth in whose veins flow the same blood as -mine? And you—you love me, I think."</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows I do, Mollie Dane!"</p> - -<p>"Then why wrong me by such a question? Come again, and again; and come -soon. I will be on the watch for you. And now, farewell!"</p> - -<p>She held out her little white hand. A moment, and they had parted.</p> - -<p>The young girl went slowly back to her room to disrobe and lie down, and -the haggard woman flitted rapidly from street to street, on her way to -the dreary lodgings she called home.</p> - -<p>Two days after, running her eyes greedily over the morning paper, Miriam -read, heading the list of "Personals:"</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>BLACK MASK.—I wish to see you soon, and alone. There is no deception -meant. Appoint time and place, and I will meet you. WHITE MASK.</p></div> - -<p>"So," said the woman to herself, "she has kept her word. Brave little -Mollie! Oh! that it may be the man she loves! I should be almost happy, -I think, to see her happy—Mary's child!"</p> - -<p>Miriam waited impatiently for the response. In two days it came:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>WHITE MASK.—To-morrow, Friday night, ten o'clock. Corner Fourteenth -Street and Broadway. BLACK MASK.</p></div> - -<p>"I, too, will be there," said Miriam. "It can do no harm; it may, -possibly, do some good."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> - -<h3>MRS. CARL WALRAVEN'S LITTLE GAME.</h3> - - -<p>Mysterious Miriam, in her dismal garret lodging, was not the only person -who read, and intelligently comprehended, these two very singular -advertisements.</p> - -<p>Of all the hundreds who may have perused and wondered over them, -probably there were but four who understood in the least what was -meant—the two most interested, and Miriam and Mrs. Walraven.</p> - -<p>Stay! There was the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh, who might have seen his -way through, had he chanced to read the "Personal" column of the paper.</p> - -<p>On the Thursday morning that this last advertisement appeared, Mrs. Carl -Walraven sat alone in the pretty boudoir sacred to her privacy. It was -her choice to breakfast alone sometimes, <i>en dishabille</i>. It had been -her choice on this particular day.</p> - -<p>At her elbow stood the tiny round table, with its exquisite appointments -of glass, and porcelain, and silver; its chocolate, its toast, its eggs, -its little broiled bird.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven was of the luxurious sort, as your full-blown, high-blooded -Cleopatras are likely to be, and did ample justice to the exquisite -<i>cuisine</i> of the Walraven mansion.</p> - -<p>Lying back gracefully, her handsome morning robe falling loosely around -her, her superb black hair twisted away in a careless, serpentine coil, -her face fresh and blooming, "at peace with the world and all therein," -my lady Blanche digested her breakfast and leisurely skimmed the morning -paper.</p> - -<p>She always liked the "Personals." To-day they had a double interest for -her. She read again and again—a dozen times, at least—that particular -"Personal" appointing the meeting at Fourteenth Street, and a lazy smile -came over her tropical face at last as she laid it down.</p> - -<p>"Nothing could be better," mused Mrs. Walraven, with that indolent smile -shining in her lazy, wicked black eyes. "The little fool sets her trap, -and walks into it herself, like the inconceivable idiot she is. It -reminds one of the ostrich, this advertisement—pretty Mollie buries her -head in the sand, and fancies no one sees her. Now, if Guy only plays -his part—and I think he will, for he's absurdly and ridiculously in -love with the fair-haired tom-boy—she will be caught in the nicest trap -ever silly seventeen walked into. She was caged once, and got free. She -will find herself caged again, and not get free. I shall have my -revenge, and Guy will have his inamorata. I'll send for him at once."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven rose, sought out her blotting-book, took a sheet of paper -and an envelope, and scrawled two or three words to her cousin:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>DEAR GUY,—Come to me at once. I wish to see you most particularly. -Don't lose a moment.</p> - -<p>Very truly,</p> - -<p>BLANCHE.</p></div> - -<p>Ringing the bell, Mrs. Walraven dispatched this little missive, and -then, reclining easily in the downy depths of her violet velvet -<i>fauteuil</i>, she fell into a reverie that lasted for upward of an hour. -With sleepy, slow, half-closed eyes, the wicked, smile just curving the -ripe-red mouth, Mme. Blanche wandered in the land of meditation, and had -her little plot all cut and dry as the toy Swiss clock on the low mantel -struck up a lively waltz preparatory to striking eleven. Ere the last -silvery chime had ceased vibrating, the door of the boudoir opened and -Dr. Guy Oleander walked in.</p> - -<p>"Good-morning, Mrs. Walraven," said the toxicologist, briskly. "You -sent for me. What's the matter?"</p> - -<p>He took off his tall hat, set it on a sofa, threw his gloves into it, -and indulged in a prolonged professional stare at his fair relative.</p> - -<p>"Nothing very serious, I imagine. You're the picture of handsome health. -Really, Blanche, the Walraven air seems to agree with you. You grow -fresher, and brighter, and plumper, and better-looking every day."</p> - -<p>"I didn't send for you to pay compliments, Doctor Oleander," said Mrs. -Walraven, smiling graciously, all the same. "See if that door is shut -fast, please, and come and sit here beside me. I've something very -serious to say to you."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander did as directed, and took a seat beside the lady.</p> - -<p>"Your husband won't happen in, will he, Blanche? Because he might be -jealous, you know, at this close proximity; and your black-a-vised men -of unknown antecedents are generally the very dickens when they fall a -prey to the green-eyed monster."</p> - -<p>"Pshaw! are you not my cousin and my medical adviser? Don't be absurd, -Guy. Mr. Walraven troubles himself very little about me, one way or -other. I might hold a levee of my gentlemen friends here, week in and -week out, for all he would know or care."</p> - -<p>"Ah! post-nuptial bliss. I thought marriage, in his case, would be a -safe antidote for love. All right, Blanche. Push ahead. What's your -business? Time is precious this morning. Hosts of patients on hand, and -an interesting case of leprosy up at Bellevue."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to know your medical horrors," said Mrs. Walraven, with a -shudder of disgust; "and I think you will throw over your patients when -you hear the subject I want to talk about. That subject is—Mollie Dane!"</p> - -<p>"Mollie!" The doctor was absorbed and vividly interested all at once. -"What of Mollie Dane?"</p> - -<p>"This," lowering her voice: "I have found out the grand secret. I know -where that mysterious fortnight was spent."</p> - -<p>"Blanche!" He leaned forward, almost breathless. "Have you? Where?"</p> - -<p>"You'd never guess. It sounds too romantic—too incredible—for belief. -Even the hackneyed truism, 'Truth is stranger than fiction,' will hardly -suffice to conquer one's astonishment—yet true it is. Do you recollect -the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh's story at the dinner-party, the other -day—that incredible tale of his abduction and the mysterious marriage -of the two masks?"</p> - -<p>"I recollect—yes."</p> - -<p>"He spoke of the bride, you remember—described her as small and -slender, with a profusion of fair, curling hair."</p> - -<p>"Yes—yes—yes!"</p> - -<p>"Guy," fixing her powerful black eyes on his face, "do you need to be -told who that masked bride was?"</p> - -<p>"Mollie Dane!" cried the doctor, impetuously.</p> - -<p>"Mollie Dane," said Mrs. Walraven, calmly.</p> - -<p>"By Jove!"</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander sat for a instant perfectly aghast.</p> - -<p>"I only wonder it did not strike you at the time. It struck me, and I -whispered my suspicion in her ear as we passed into the drawing-room. -But she is a perfect actress. Neither start nor look betrayed her. She -stared at me with those insolent blue eyes of hers, as though she could -not possibly comprehend."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps she could not."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven looked at him with a quiet smile—the smile of conscious -triumph.</p> - -<p>"She is the cleverest actress I ever saw off the stage—so clever that -I am sometimes inclined to suspect she may have been once on it. No, my -dear Guy, she understood perfectly well. Mollie Dane was the -extraordinary bride Mr. Rashleigh married that extraordinary night."</p> - -<p>"And who the devil," cried Dr. Guy, using powerful language in his -excitement, "was the birdegroom?"</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Blanche, "there's the rub! Mr. Rashleigh doesn't know, and I -don't know, and Mollie doesn't know herself."</p> - -<p>"What!"</p> - -<p>"My dear Doctor Oleander, your eyes will start from your head if you -stare after that fashion. No; Mollie doesn't know. She is married; but to -whom she has no more idea than you have. Does it not sound incredible?"</p> - -<p>"Sound? It is incredible—impossible—absurd!"</p> - -<p>"Precisely. It is an accomplished fact, all the same."</p> - -<p>"Blanche, for Heaven's sake, explain!" exclaimed the young man, -impatiently. "What the foul fiend do you mean? I never heard such a -cock-and-bull story in all my life!"</p> - -<p>"Nor I. But it is true, nevertheless. Listen: On the night following the -dinner-party I did the meanest action of my life. I played eavesdropper. -I listened at Mollie's door. All for your sake, my dear Guy."</p> - -<p>"Yes?" said Guy, with an incredulous smile.</p> - -<p>"I listened," pursued Mrs. Blanche, "and I overheard the strangest -confession ever made, I believe—Mollie Dane relating the adventures of -that hidden fortnight, at midnight, to that singular creature, Miriam."</p> - -<p>"Miriam! Who is she?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! you remember—the woman who tried to stop my marriage. Mollie -quieted her on that occasion, and they had a private talk."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! I remember. Go on. How did Miriam come to be with Mollie, and -who the mischief is Miriam?"</p> - -<p>"Her aunt."</p> - -<p>"Her aunt?"</p> - -<p>"Her mother's sister—yes. Her mother's name was Dane. Who that mother -was," said Mrs. Walraven, with spiteful emphasis, "I fancy Mr. Walraven -could tell you."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said her cousin, with a side-long glance, "I shouldn't wonder. I'll -not ask him, however. Proceed."</p> - -<p>"I took to reading a novel after I came home," proceeded Mrs. Walraven, -"and my husband went to bed. I remained with my book in the drawing-room, -very much interested, until nearly midnight. I fancied all in the house -had retired; therefore, when I heard a soft rustling of silk swishing -past the drawing-room door, I was considerably surprised. An instant -later, and the house door was softly unfastened. I turned the handle -noiselessly and peeped out. There, in her pink dinner toilet, jewels and -all, was Miss Dane, stealing upstairs, and following her, this wretched, -ragged creature, Miriam."</p> - -<p>"Well?" said the doctor.</p> - -<p>"Well, I followed. They entered Miss Dane's chamber and closed the door. -The temptation was strong, the spirit willing, and the flesh weak. I -crouched at the key-hole and listened. It was a very long -conversation—it was fully three o'clock before Miriam departed—but it -held me spell-bound with its interest from beginning to end. Once I was -nearly caught—I sneezed. I vanished behind a big cabinet, and just -saved myself, for they opened the door. Mollie set it down to the wind, -or the rats, closed the door again, and my curiosity overcoming my fear -of detection, I crept back and heard every word."</p> - -<p>"Well?" again said the doctor.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mollie made a clean breast of it. On her wedding-night she was -enticed from the house by a letter purporting to come from this Miriam. -The letter told her that Miriam was dying, and that she wished to make a -revelation of her parentage to Mollie, before she departed for a worse -land. It seems she knows Miss Dane's antecedents, and Miss Dane doesn't. -Mollie went at once, as the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh did, and, like -him, was blindfolded and bound, borne away to some unknown house, nobody -knows where, waited on by the girl who carried the letter, and held a -fast prisoner by a man in a black mask. That man's face Mollie never -saw, nor has she the least idea of whom it may be. She is inclined to -suspect you."</p> - -<p>"Me!"</p> - -<p>The doctor's stare of astonishment was a sight to behold.</p> - -<p>"It is you, or Sardonyx, or Ingelow—one of you three, Mollie is -certain. The particular one she can't decide. She dreads it may be -either the lawyer or the doctor, and hopes, with all her heart, it may -be the artist."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander's swarthy brows knit with a midnight scowl.</p> - -<p>"She is in love with this puppy, Ingelow. I have thought as much for -some time."</p> - -<p>"Hopelessly in love with him, and perfectly willing to be his wife, if -he proves to be her husband. Should it chance to be you, she will -administer a dose of strychnine the first available opportunity."</p> - -<p>"She said that, did she?"</p> - -<p>"That, and much more. She hates, detests, and abhors you, and loves the -handsome artist with all her heart."</p> - -<p>"The little jade! And how about her elderly admirer?"</p> - -<p>"Sir Roger? Oh! he is to get the go-by. 'Men have died, and worms have -eaten them, but not for love.' He will stand the blow. 'All for love, -and the world well lost,' is to be her motto for the future. She is in -love with Hugh, and Hugh she must have. The spoiled baby is tired of all -its old toys, and wants a new one."</p> - -<p>"And she married this masked man, and never saw him? That is odd."</p> - -<p>"The whole affair is excessively odd. You know how impatient she -naturally is. She grew desperate in her confinement in a few days, and -was ready to sell her birthright for a mess of pottage—ready to -sacrifice her freedom in one way for her freedom in another. She had the -man's promise that he would return her to her friends a week after she -became his wife. She married him, and he kept his promise."</p> - -<p>"And he never let her see his face?"</p> - -<p>"Never! and she can not even suspect who it is. He wore a long, -disguising cloak that concealed his figure, false beard and hair, and -spoke only French. But she hopes it may be Hugh Ingelow. What do you -think?"</p> - -<p>"That is not Hugh Ingelow. The fellow hasn't energy enough to entrap a -fly."</p> - -<p>"Sardonyx, then?"</p> - -<p>"Sardonyx is too cautious. He knows too much of the law to run his head -into the lion's jaws. Besides, it is too absurdly romantic for so -practical a man. No, it is not Sardonyx."</p> - -<p>"Yourself, then?"</p> - -<p>The doctor laughed.</p> - -<p>"Nonsense, Blanche! Mollie is out of her reckoning about us three. By -the bye, I see now through those queer advertisements that have appeared -in the 'Herald' of late. Black Mask—White Mask."</p> - -<p>"Yes; Mollie wants to find out whom she has espoused. By Miriam's -advice, she inserted that first advertisement to Black Mask. He, as you -perceive, replies in to-day's edition."</p> - -<p>"And she is to meet him to-morrow night."</p> - -<p>"Exactly; and will, unless you forestall him."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Don't be stupid, pray. What is to hinder you from being at the place of -rendezvous first and playing Black Mask?"</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon; I am stupid still. Black Mask will be there -himself."</p> - -<p>"Look here: ten is the hour. Toward evening I will advance every -time-piece in the house, Mollie's watch included, half an hour. She -will be at the place of tryst at half past nine. Be you there, -likewise—cloaked, bearded, bewigged. Have a carriage in waiting. -Make her think you are Hugh Ingelow, and she will enter it without -hesitation. Speak French. She will not recognize your voice. Once in the -carriage, carry her off."</p> - -<p>"Where?" asked the doctor, astonished at the rapidity of all this.</p> - -<p>"To Long Island—to the farm. She will be as safe there as in Sing Sing. -Make her think you are her unknown husband. It will be easily done, for -she half thinks it now. Only—look out for the strychnine!"</p> - -<p>The doctor rose to his feet, his sallow face flushed, his small black -eyes sparkling.</p> - -<p>"By Jove! Blanche, what a plotter you are! I'll do it, as sure as my -name's Guy. I love the little witch to madness, and I owe her one for -the way she jilted me. I'll do it, by thunder!"</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Walraven, quietly. "Don't get excited, and don't -make a noise. I knew you would."</p> - -<p>"But what will the old lady say?"</p> - -<p>"Who cares for the old lady?" retorted Mme. Blanche, contemptuously. -"Not you, I hope. Tell her it's an insane patient you have brought to -her for quiet and sea air. Judy is a regular dragon, and the old woman -is as keen as a ferret and as sly as a female fox. Mollie won't escape -from them. She may yield, if she really is convinced you are her -husband. Tell her you love her to distraction—can't live without her, -and so on. She may yield. Who knows? These girls are bundles of -inconsistencies, and Mollie Dane the most inconsistent of the tribe. -Have the ceremony performed over again before witnesses, and bring her -back here in a month—Mrs. Guy Oleander! Even if she won't consent from -pity for your state, she may to escape from that dreary Long Island -farm. She did once before, you know, and may again. That is all I have -to suggest, Guy. The rest is with yourself. In the vocabulary of great -men, there is no such word as fail."</p> - -<p>She rose up. Dr. Oleander grasped her hand in an outburst of -enthusiastic gratitude.</p> - -<p>"Blanche, you're a brick—a trump—a jewel beyond price! I don't know -how to thank you. You're a woman of genius—a wife for a Talleyrand!"</p> - -<p>"Thanks. Let me be able to return the compliment. I ask no more. Let me -see how cleverly you will carry off pretty Mollie. I never want to see -her under this roof again."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> - -<h3>THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.</h3> - - -<p>The April day had been very long, and very, very dull in the handsome -Walraven Fifth Avenue palace. Long and lamentable, as the warning cry -of the banshee, wailed the dreary blast. Ceaselessly, dismally beat the -rain against the glass. The icy breath of the frozen North was in the -wind, curdling your blood and turning your skin to goose-flesh; and the -sky was of lead, and the streets were slippery and sloppy, and the New -York pavements altogether a delusion and a snare.</p> - -<p>All through this bad, black April day, Mollie Dane had wandered through -the house, upstairs and down-stairs, like an uneasy ghost.</p> - -<p>Some evil spirit of unrest surely possessed her. She could settle -nowhere. She threw herself on a sofa in her pretty bedroom, and tried -to beguile the forlorn hours with the latest novel, in vain. She yawned -horribly over the pages and flung it from her in disgust.</p> - -<p>She wandered down to the drawing-room and tried the grand piano, whose -tones were as the music of the spheres. Still in vain. The listless -fingers fell aimlessly on the ivory keys.</p> - -<p>She strove to sleep, but the nervous restlessness that possessed her -only drove her to the verge of feverish madness in the effort. The girl -was possessed of a waking nightmare not to be shaken off.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" cried Mollie, impatiently, to herself. "What the -mischief's the matter with me? I never felt like this before. It can't -be remorse for some unacted crime, I never committed murder that I know -of. It can't be dyspepsia, for I've got the digestive powers of an -anaconda. It can't be the weather, for I've struggled through one or two -other rainy days in my life-time; and it can't be anxiety for to-night -to come, for I'm not apt to get into a gale about trifles. Perhaps it's -a presentiment of evil to come. I've heard of such things. It's either -that or a fit of the blue-devils!"</p> - -<p>The long, wet, windy day wore on. Mr. Walraven slept through it -comfortably in his study. Mrs. Walraven had a <i>tête-à-tête</i> luncheon -with her cousin, the doctor, and dawdled the slow hours away over her -tricot and fashion magazines.</p> - -<p>Old Mme. Walraven rarely left her own apartments of late days. -Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law detested each other with an intensity -not common even in that relationship. How she ever killed time was a -mystery unknown. Mollie good-naturedly devoted a couple of her precious -daily hours to her. The house was as still as a tomb. Downstairs, -Messrs. Johnson and Wilson, Mr. Coachman, Mme. Cook and Mlle. -Chambermaid may have enjoyed themselves in one another's society, but -above the kitchen cabinet all was forlorn and forsaken.</p> - -<p>"Awfully slow, all this!" said Miss Dane to herself, with a fearful -yawn. "I'll die of stagnation if this sort of thing keeps on. Mariana, -howling in the Moated Grange, must have felt a good deal as I do just at -present—a trifle worse, maybe, for I don't wish I were dead altogether. -The Tombs is gay and festive compared to Fifth Avenue on a rainy day. I -wish I were back playing Fanchon the Cricket, free and happy once more, -wearing spangles as Ophelia of Denmark, and a gilt paper crown as -Cleopatra of Egypt, I wasn't married then; and I didn't go moping -about, like an old hen with the distemper, every time it was wet and -nasty. If it keeps on like this I shall have a pretty time of it getting -to Fourteenth Street, at ten o'clock to-night. And I'll surely go, if it -were to rain cats, dogs, and pitchforks!"</p> - -<p>She stood drearily at the drawing-room window, looking forlornly out at -the empty street.</p> - -<p>The eerie twilight was falling, rain and wind rising and falling with -it, the street lamps twinkling ghostily through the murky gloaming, the -pavement black and shining. Belated pedestrians hurried along with bowed -heads and uplifted umbrellas, the stages rattled past in a ceaseless -stream, full to overflowing. The rainy night was settling down, the -storm increasing as the darkness came on. Mollie surveyed all this -disconsolately enough.</p> - -<p>"I don't mind a ducking," she murmured, plaintively, "and I never take -cold; but I don't want that man to see me looking like a drowned rat. -Oh, if it should turn out to be Hugh—dear, dear Hugh!" Her face lighted -rapturously at the thought. "I never knew how much I loved him until I -lost him. If it isn't Hugh, and Hugh asks me to run away with him -to-morrow, I'll do it—I declare I will—and the others may go to -grass!"</p> - -<p>At that moment, voices sounded on the stairs—the voices of Mrs. -Walraven and her cousin.</p> - -<p>The drawing-room door was ajar, Mollie's little figure hidden in the -amber drapery of the window, and she could see them plainly, without -herself being seen.</p> - -<p>"You won't fail?" Mrs. Walraven said, impressively. "I will do my part. -Are you equal to yours?"</p> - -<p>"I never fail where I mean to succeed," answered Dr. Guy, with equal -emphasis. "Sooner or later, I triumph! I shall triumph now! 'All things -are possible to him who knows how to wait.' I have waited, and this -night gives me my reward."</p> - -<p>The house door closed after the young man. Mrs. Walraven peeped into the -drawing-room, never seeing the slender figure amid the voluminous golden -damask, and then reascended the stairs. Mollie was again in silence and -solitude.</p> - -<p>"Now, what are those two up to, I should like to know?" soliloquized the -young lady. "Some piece of atrocious mischief, I'll be bound! He looks -like the Miltonic Lucifer sometimes, that man, only not one half so -good-looking; but there is a snakish, treacherous, cold-blooded glare -in his greenish-black eyes that makes me think of the arch-tempter; and -some people have the bad taste to call him handsome."</p> - -<p>The twilight had ended in darkness by this time. Mollie put her hand to -her belt to find her watch, but it was not there.</p> - -<p>"I have left it on my dressing-table," she thought, moving away. "I will -have a cup of tea in my room this evening, and let guardy and Madame -Blanche dine together. I wish it were time to start. I abominably hate -waiting."</p> - -<p>Mollie found her watch on the table, and was rather surprised to see it -past eight.</p> - -<p>"I had no idea it was so late," she said to herself. "I shall leave here -at half past nine. There is nothing like keeping tryst in season."</p> - -<p>She rang for Lucy, ordered a little supper in her room, and then -dismissed the maid.</p> - -<p>"I shan't want you again to-night, Lucy," she said. "You can go out, if -you like, and see your mother."</p> - -<p>Lucy tripped away, right well pleased, and Mollie dawdled the time over -her supper and a book.</p> - -<p>Half past nine came very soon.</p> - -<p>"Time to get ready," thought Mollie, starting up. "Dear, dear! it's -highly romantic and highly sensational, this nocturnal appointment with -a masked man, and that man one's mysterious husband. I can't say much -for the place; there's precious little romance around the Maison Dorée. -Does it still rain, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>She opened the blind and looked out. Yes, it still rained; it still blew -in long, shuddering gusts; the low-lying sky was inky black; athwart the -darkness flashed the murky street lamps.</p> - -<p>Mollie dropped the curtain, with a little shiver.</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'The night is cold, and dark, and dreary,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It rains, and the wind is never weary.'</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>It's a horrible night to be abroad, but I'll keep my word, if I drown -for it!"</p> - -<p>She hunted up the long water-proof mantle she had worn the night of her -abduction, drew the hood far over her head and face, wrapped it around -her, opened the window, and resolutely stepped out on the piazza.</p> - -<p>She paused an instant—a blinding rush of wind and rain almost took her -off her feet; the next, the brave little heroine was flitting along the -slippery piazza, down the stairs, out of the wicket gate and into the -black, shining street.</p> - -<p>Away sped Mollie—swift as a little, wingless Mercury—down the avenue, -through Union Square, to the place of tryst.</p> - -<p>She expected every moment to hear the city clocks chime ten, but she -reached Broadway without hearing them. Little wonder, when it was but -half past nine.</p> - -<p>Drenched through, blown about, breathless, panting, almost scared at -the dreary forlornness of the deserted streets, the adventurous little -damsel reached the place of tryst.</p> - -<p>Was she too soon? Surely not. There stood a cab, drawn close to the -curbstone, and there, in the shadow of the cab, stood a tall man in a -cloak, evidently waiting.</p> - -<p>The lamps of the carriage shone upon him, but the cloak collar was so -turned up, the slouched hat so pulled down, such a quantity of dark -beard between, that nothing was visible of the face whatever.</p> - -<p>Mollie paused, altogether exhausted; the man advanced a step out of the -shadow.</p> - -<p>"White Mask?" he asked, in a cautious whisper.</p> - -<p>"Black Mask!" responded Mollie, promptly.</p> - -<p>"All right, then!" replied the man, speaking in French, and speaking -rapidly. "It's impossible to stand here in the rain and talk. I have -brought a carriage—let me assist you in."</p> - -<p>But Mollie shrunk back. Some nameless thrill of terror suddenly made her -dread the man.</p> - -<p>"You must—you must!" cried the man, in an impetuous whisper. "We can -not stand here in this down-pour. Don't you see it is impossible? And -the first policeman who comes along will be walking us off to the -station-house."</p> - -<p>He caught her arm and half led her to the carriage. Shrinking -instinctively, yet hardly knowing what to do, she found herself in it, -and seated, before she quite knew it.</p> - -<p>He sprung after her, closed the door, the carriage started at once at -a great pace, and the poor little fly was fairly caught in the spider's -web.</p> - -<p>"I don't like this," said Mollie, decisively. "I had no idea of entering -a carriage when I appointed this meeting. Where are you taking me to?"</p> - -<p>"There is no need to be alarmed, pretty Mollie," said the man, still -speaking French. "I have given the coachman orders to rattle along -through the streets. We can talk here at our leisure, and as long as we -please. You must perceive the utter impossibility of conversation at a -street corner and in a down-pour of rain."</p> - -<p>Mollie did, but she fidgeted in her seat, and felt particularly -uncomfortable, all the same. Now that it was too late, she began to -think she had acted unwisely in appointing this meeting.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't I let well enough alone?" thought the young lady. "At a -distance, it seemed the easiest thing in the world; now that I am in -the man's power, I am afraid of him, more so than I ever was before."</p> - -<p>The man had taken his seat beside her. At this juncture he put his arm -around her waist.</p> - -<p>"Why can't we be comfortable and affectionate, as man and wife -should—eh, Mollie? You don't know how much obliged to you I am for -this interview."</p> - -<p>There was a ring of triumph in his tone that Mollie could not fail to -perceive. Her heart gave a great jump of terror, but she angrily flung -herself out of his arm.</p> - -<p>"Keep your distance, sir! How dare you? You sing quite a new song since -I saw you last! Don't you lay a finger on me, or I'll—"</p> - -<p>"What, pretty Cricket?" with a sardonic laugh.</p> - -<p>Mollie caught her breath. That name, that tone—both were altogether new -in the unknown man.</p> - -<p>The sound of the voice, now that he spoke French, was quite unlike that -of the man she had come to meet. And he was not wont to call her -Cricket.</p> - -<p>Had she made some horrible mistake—been caught in some dreadful trap? -But, no; that was impossible.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Mr. Mask," said Mollie, fiercely, "I don't want any of -your familiarity, and I trust to your honor to respect my unprotected -situation. I appointed this meeting because you kept your word, and -behaved with tolerable decency when we last parted. I want to end this -matter. I want to know who you are."</p> - -<p>"My precious Mollie, your husband!"</p> - -<p>"But who are you?"</p> - -<p>"One of your rejected suitors."</p> - -<p>"But which of them?—there were so many."</p> - -<p>"The one who loved you best."</p> - -<p>"Pshaw! I don't want trifling! What is your name?"</p> - -<p>"Ernest."</p> - -<p>"I never had a lover of that name," said Mollie, decidedly. "You are -only mocking me. Are you—are you—Hugh Ingelow?"</p> - -<p>Her voice shook a little. The man by her side noted it, and burst into -a derisive laugh.</p> - -<p>"You are not Hugh Ingelow!" Mollie cried in a voice of sharp, sudden -pain—"you are not!"</p> - -<p>"And you are sorry, pretty Mollie? Why, that's odd, too! He was a -rejected lover, was he not?"</p> - -<p>"Let me out!" exclaimed the girl, frantically—"let me go! I thought you -were Hugh Ingelow, or I never would have come! Let me out! Let me out!"</p> - -<p>She made a rush at the door, with a shrill cry of affright. A sudden -panic had seized her—a horrible dread of the man beside her—a stunning -sense that it was not the man she loved.</p> - -<p>Again that strident laugh—mocking, sardonic, triumphant—rang through -the carriage. Her arms were caught and held as in a vise.</p> - -<p>"Not so fast, my fair one; there is no escape: I can't live without -you, and I see no reason why a man should live without his wife. You -appointed this meeting yourself, and I'm excessively obliged to you. I -am taking you to the sea-side to spend the honey-moon. Don't struggle -so—we'll return to New York by and by. As for Hugh Ingelow, you mustn't -think of him now; it isn't proper in a respectable married woman to know -there is another man in the scheme of the universe except her husband. -Mollie! Mollie! if you scream in that manner you'll compel me to resort -to chloroform—a vulgar alternative, my dearest."</p> - -<p>But Mollie struggled like a mad thing, and screamed—wild, shrill, -womanly shrieks that rang out even above the rattle and roll of the -carriage wheels.</p> - -<p>The man, with an oath, placed his hand tightly over her mouth. They were -going at a frightful pace, and already the city, with its lights and -passengers, was left far behind. They were flying over a dark, wet road, -and the wind roared through distant trees, and the rain fell down like a -second deluge.</p> - -<p>"Let me go—let me go!" Mollie strove madly to cry, but the tightening -grasp of that large hand suffocated her.</p> - -<p>The carriage seemed suddenly to reel, a thousand lights flashed before -her eyes, a roar like the roar of many waters surged in her ears, a -deathly sickness and coldness crept over her, and with a gasping sob she -slipped back, fainting away for the first time in her life.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> - -<h3>THE MAN IN THE MASK.</h3> - - -<p>Dizzily Mollie opened her eyes. Confused, bewildered, she strove to sit -up and catch her breath in broken gasps.</p> - -<p>"So sorry, Mollie," said an odious voice in her ear. "Quite shocked, I -am sure, to have you faint; but you've not been insensible half an hour. -It wasn't my fault, you know. You would scream, you would struggle, you -would exhaust yourself! And what is the consequence of all this -excitement? Why, you pop over in a dead swoon."</p> - -<p>Mollie raised herself up, still dazed and confused. She put her hand to -her forehead and strove to recall her drifting senses.</p> - -<p>They were still bowling along at a sharp pace over a muddy country road; -still fell the rain; still howled the wind; still pitch darkness wrapped -all without. Were they going on forever? Was it a reality or a horrible -nightmare?</p> - -<p>"We are almost at our journey's end," said the man, soothingly. "Come, -cheer up, Cricket. I love you, and I won't hurt a hair of your head."</p> - -<p>"Where are we?" Mollie faintly asked.</p> - -<p>"Rattling over a beastly country road," answered her companion, "under -a sky as black as Erebus, and in a down-pour that threatens a second -flood. There's the sea. We're down by the sad sea waves now, Mollie."</p> - -<p>Mollie listened. Above the roar of the elemental strife she could hear -the deep and mighty bass of the roaring sea.</p> - -<p>"We will be there in ten minutes more," said the man, briskly.</p> - -<p>"Where is there?" inquired Mollie, in the same faint accent.</p> - -<p>"Home, my pretty wife—our cottage by the sea, and all that, you know. -Don't droop, my charming Cricket. We'll be as happy together as the days -are long. I love you with all my soul—I swear it by all that's good and -gracious; and I'll make you the best husband ever bright-eyed little -girl had. Trust me, Mollie, and cheer up. Yoicks! Here we are."</p> - -<p>The carriage stopped with a jerk that precipitated Mollie into her -captor's arms; but, with an angry push, she was free again directly.</p> - -<p>The man opened the door and sprung out. Wind howling, rain tailing, -trees surging, sea roaring, and a big dog barking, made the black night -hideous.</p> - -<p>"Down, Tiger! Down, you big, noisy brute!" cried the man. "Here, Mollie, -let me help you out."</p> - -<p>There was no escape—Mollie let him. The salt breath of the sea blew in -her face—its awful thunder on the shore drowned all lesser noises.</p> - -<p>Through the blackness of the black night she could see the blacker -outline of a house, from one or two windows of which faint lights -shone. Tossing trees surrounded it—a high board fence and a tall, -padlocked gate inclosed it.</p> - -<p>"All right, Mollie," the man said. "This is home!"</p> - -<p>He drew her arm within his and hurried her up a long, graveled path, -under dripping, tossing trees.</p> - -<p>The storm of wind and rain nearly beat the breath out of the girl's -body, and she was glad when the shelter of a great front porch was -gained.</p> - -<p>"I hope you're not very wet, my little wife," said the man: "because I -don't know as there is a change of garments in this establishment that -will fit you. However, as you will retire directly, it doesn't so much -matter."</p> - -<p>He knocked with his knuckles a thundering reveille that echoed and -re-echoed ghostily through the rumbling old house. In a moment there was -a shuffling of footsteps inside, a rattling of a chain, and the noisy -undoing of rusty bolts.</p> - -<p>"Who's there?" asked a cracked old voice. "Is it the young master?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you old idiot! Didn't I send you word? Open the door at once, and -be hanged to you!"</p> - -<p>A key turned gratingly in the ponderous lock—bolts and chains fell, and -the massive door swung back on creaky old hinges.</p> - -<p>"Like an ancient castle in a story book," thought Mollie, in the midst -of her trouble. "Where in the wide world am I? Oh, what an unfortunate -little wretch I am! A stolen princess couldn't be abducted and -imprisoned oftener."</p> - -<p>The opening of the door showed a long, black, gloomy entrance -hall—bare, bleak and draughty. Two people stood there—a grizzly old -man, stooping, and bleared, and wrinkled, who had opened the door, and -a grizzly old woman, just a shade less stooping, and bleared, and -wrinkled, who held a sputtering tallow candle aloft.</p> - -<p>"How are you, Peter? How are you, Sally?" said Mollie's conductor, -nodding familiarly to these two antediluvians. "Is the room ready? -Here's the lady."</p> - -<p>He drew Mollie, whose arm he retained in a close grasp, a little closer -to him, and Mollie noticed that, for some reason, the ancient pair -shrunk back, and looked as though they were a little afraid of her.</p> - -<p>"The room's all ready," said the old woman, with a pair of glittering -little eyes fixed, as if fascinated, on Mollie's pretty face. "The -missis and me's been a-tidying of it all day long. Poor creeter! so -young and so pretty! What a pity!"</p> - -<p>This last was <i>sotto voce</i>, but Mollie's quick ear caught it. She looked -up at her conductor, but cloak and hat and whiskers disguised him as -effectually as the mask had done on other occasions. She looked back at -the old woman and held out her supplicating hands.</p> - -<p>"My good woman, whoever you are, if you have a woman's heart, take pity -on me. I have been brought here against my will by this man."</p> - -<p>"Ah, poor creeter!" sighed the old woman, shaking her grizzly old head; -"as if I didn't know that. Poor little creeter!"</p> - -<p>"Help me!" Mollie cried. "Don't aid this man to keep me here. I don't -know who he is—I have been wickedly entrapped. I am a little, helpless -girl, but I have rich and powerful friends who will liberally reward -you. Don't help this, bad, bold man to keep me a prisoner here."</p> - -<p>"Ah, poor creeter!" sighed the old woman, plaintively, a second time; -"only hear her talk now. And such a pretty little thing, too! Dear, -dear! It goes to one's heart. Don't keep her standing in them wet -clothes, sir. Come upstairs. Such a pity, such a pity!"</p> - -<p>She hobbled away, muttering to herself and shaking her head. The -disguised man laughed—a low, deriding laugh.</p> - -<p>"You see, my dear little Mollie, you'll get any amount of pity, but -nothing else. Old Sally will be very sincerely sorry for you, but she -won't help you to escape. On the contrary, she'll keep you under lock -and key as faithfully as though you were the Koh-i-noor. Come in, you -may take cold in this nasty, draughty passage."</p> - -<p>He drew her with him. Mollie seemed in a sort of dreamy swoon, and went -passively. They ascended the stairs into another dark and draughty hall, -flanked on either side by a couple of doors. One of these the old dame -opened, and quite a new picture burst on Mollie's sight.</p> - -<p>The apartment was not at all like the mysterious padded room of former -experience; the four bare walls were plastered and blankly bare; the -boarded floor was strewn with rags; the two big square windows were -draped with paper-blinds. A huge fire of logs, such as Mollie had never -beheld in her life before, roared gloriously in the old-fashioned -fire-place, and lighted the room with a lurid glow. A four-post -bedstead, the bed covered with a gaudy patch-work or counterpane, stood -in one corner, a table with a white cloth stood in another, a chest of -drawers in a third, and the door by which they entered in the fourth. -This was Mollie's new prison.</p> - -<p>"Elegant simplicity," observed the man, leading her in; "but we will -do our best to make you comfortable during your stay. It need not be -long—you know it depends on yourself, Mollie."</p> - -<p>"On myself?"</p> - -<p>She turned her pale face and angry, eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>"I am your husband by a secret marriage, you know. Let that marriage be -solemnized over again in public—no one need know of the other: consent -to be my wife openly and above-board, and your prison doors will fly -open that hour."</p> - -<p>"In Heaven's name, who are you?" cried Mollie, impatiently. "End this -ridiculous farce—remove that disguise—let me see who I am speaking to. -This melodramatic absurdity has gone on long enough—the play is played -out. Talk to me, face to face, like a man, if you dare!"</p> - -<p>Her eyes blazed, her voice rose. The old woman looked from one to the -other, "far wide" but in evident curiosity. The man had persisted in -speaking to her in French, and Mollie had answered him in that language.</p> - -<p>"Be it as you say!" cried her captor, suddenly; "only remember, Mollie, -whether I am the person you prefer to see under this disguise or not, I -am nevertheless your husband as fast as the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh -can tie the knot. You shall know who I am, since it is only a question -of to-night or to-morrow at the most. Sally, you can go."</p> - -<p>Sally looked from one to the other with sharp, suspicious old eyes.</p> - -<p>"Won't the young lady want me, sir? Is she able to 'tend to herself?"</p> - -<p>"Quite able, Sally; she's not so bad as you think. Go away, like a good -soul. I have a soothing draught to administer to my patient."</p> - -<p>"Your patient!" said Mollie, turning the flashing light of her great -blue eyes full upon him.</p> - -<p>The man laughed.</p> - -<p>"I had to invent a little fable for these good people. Didn't you notice -they looked rather afraid of you? Of course you did. Well, my dear -Mollie, they think you're mad."</p> - -<p>"Mad?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly. You are, a little, you know. They think you've come here under -medical orders to recruit by the sea-shore. I told them so. One hate's -to tell lies, but, unfortunately, white ones are indispensable at -times."</p> - -<p>The blue eyes shone full upon him, blazing with magnificent disdain.</p> - -<p>"You are a poorer creature than even I took you to be, and you have -acted a mean and dastardly part from the first—the part of a schemer -and a coward. Pray, let me see the face of our modern Knight of -Romance."</p> - -<p>Old Sally had hobbled from the room and they stood alone, half the width -of the apartment between them.</p> - -<p>"Hard words, my pretty one! You forget it was all for love of you. -I didn't want to see you the wife of an old dotard you didn't care -a fillip for."</p> - -<p>"So, to mend matters, you've made me the wife of a scoundrel. I must -forever hate and despise—yourself."</p> - -<p>"Not so, Mollie! I mean you to be very fond of me one of these days. I -don't see why you shouldn't. I'm young; I'm well off; I'm clever; I'm -not bad-looking. There's no reason why you shouldn't be very fond of me, -indeed. Love begets love, they say, and I love you to madness."</p> - -<p>"So it appears. A lunatic asylum would be the fitter place for you, if -you must escape state prison. Are we to stand here and bandy words all -night? Show me who you are and go."</p> - -<p>The man laid his hand on his hat.</p> - -<p>"Have you no suspicions, Mollie? Can't you meet me half-way—can't you -guess?"</p> - -<p>"I don't want to guess."</p> - -<p>She spoke defiantly; but her heart was going in great, suffocating -plunges against her side, now that the supreme moment had come.</p> - -<p>"Then, Mollie, behold your husband!"</p> - -<p>With a theatrical flourish he whipped off slouched hat, flowing beard -and wig, dropped the disguising cloak, and stood before her -revealed—Dr. Guy Oleander!</p> - -<p>She gave one gasping cry, no more. She stood looking at him as if -turning to stone, her face marble white—awfully rigid—her eyes -starting from their sockets. The man's face was lighted with a sinister, -triumphant glow.</p> - -<p>"Look long, Mollie," he said, exultantly, "and look well. You see your -husband for the first time."</p> - -<p>And then Mollie caught her gasping breath at the taunt, and the blood -rushed in a dark, red torrent of rage and shame to her fair face.</p> - -<p>"Never!" she cried, raising her arm aloft—"never, so help me Heaven! I -will sit in this prison and starve to death! I will throw myself out of -yonder window into the black, boiling sea! I would be torn to pieces by -wild horses! I will die ten thousand deaths, but I will never, never, -never be wife of yours, Guy Oleander!"</p> - -<p>Her voice rose to a shriek—hysterical, frenzied. For the instant she -felt as though she were going mad, and she looked it, and the man -recoiled before her.</p> - -<p>"Mollie!" he gasped, in consternation.</p> - -<p>The girl stamped her foot on the floor.</p> - -<p>"Don't call me Mollie:" she screamed, passionately. "Don't dare to speak -to me, to look at me, to come near me! I have heard of women murdering -men, and if I had a loaded pistol this moment, God help you, Doctor -Oleander!"</p> - -<p>She looked like a mad thing—like a crazed pythoness. Her wild, fair -hair fell loose about her; her blue eyes blazed steely flame; her face -was crimson with the intensity of her rage, and shame, and despair, from -forehead to chin.</p> - -<p>"Go!" she cried, fiercely, "you snake, you coward, you felon, you -abductor of feeble girls, you poisoner! Yes, you poison the very air I -breathe! Go, or, by all that is holy, I will spring at your throat and -strangle you with my bare hands!"</p> - -<p>"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the petrified doctor, retreating precipitately, -"what a little devil it is! Mollie, Mollie, for pity's sake—"</p> - -<p>Another furious stamp, a spring like a wild cat toward him, and the -aghast doctor was at the door.</p> - -<p>"There, there, there, Mollie! I'm going. By Jove! what a little fiend -you are! I didn't think you would take it like this. I—Great powers! -Yes, I'm going!"</p> - -<p>He flew out, closing the door with a bang. Then he opened it an inch and -peeped in.</p> - -<p>"I'll come again to-morrow, Mollie. Try, for goodness' sake, to calm -yourself in the meantime. Yes, yes, yes, I'm going!"</p> - -<p>For, with a shriek of madness, she made a spring at him, and the doctor -just managed to slam the door and turn the key before her little, wiry -hands were upon his throat.</p> - -<p>"Great Heaven!" Dr. Oleander cried to himself, pale and aghast, wiping -the cold perspiration off his face; "was ever such a mad creature born -on the earth before? She looked like a little yellow-haired demon, -glaring upon me with those blazing eyes. Little tiger-cat! I told them -she was a raving lunatic, and, by George! she's going to prove me a -prophet. It's enough to make a man's blood run cold."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> - -<h3>MOLLIE'S DESPAIR.</h3> - - -<p>Dr. Oleander descended the stairs, passed through the lower hall, and -entered the kitchen—a big, square room, bleak and draughty, like all -the rest of the old, rickety place, but lighted by a roaring fire.</p> - -<p>Old Sally was bustling about over pots and stew-pans, getting supper; -old Peter stood at the table peeling potatoes. In an arm-chair before -the fire sat another old woman with snaky-black eyes, hooked nose, and -incipient black mustache.</p> - -<p>Old Sally was volubly narrating what had transpired upstairs, and cut -herself short upon the entrance of her master.</p> - -<p>"How are you, mother?" said Dr. Oleander, nodding to the venerable party -in the arm-chair. "Sally's telling you about my patient, is she?"</p> - -<p>His mother's answer was a stifled scream, which Sally echoed.</p> - -<p>"Well, what now?" demanded the doctor.</p> - -<p>"You look like a ghost! Gracious me, Guy!" cried his mother, in -consternation; "you're whiter than the tablecloth."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander ground out an oath.</p> - -<p>"I dare say I am. I've just had a scare from that little, crazy imp that -would blanch any man. I thought, in my soul, she was going to spring -upon me like a panther and choke me. She would have, too, by Jove, if -I hadn't cleared out."</p> - -<p>"Lor'!" cried Sally, in consternation, "and I've just been a-telling the -missis how sweet, and gentle, and innocent, and pretty she looked."</p> - -<p>"Innocent and gentle be—hanged!" growled the doctor. "She's the old -Satan in female form. If you don't look out, Sally, she'll throttle you -to-morrow when you go in."</p> - -<p>Sally gave a little yelp of dismay.</p> - -<p>"Lor' a massy, Master Guy! then I'll not go near her. I ain't a-going -to be scared out of my senses by mad-women in my old age. I won't go -into her room a step to-morrow, Master Guy. If you wants to turn honest -people's houses into lunatic asylums, then set lunatic-keepers to see -after them. I shan't do it, and so I tell you."</p> - -<p>With which short and sharp ultimatum Sally began vigorously laying the -cloth for supper.</p> - -<p>Before Dr. Oleander could open his mouth to expostulate, his mother -struck in:</p> - -<p>"I really don't think it's safe to live in the house with such a violent -lunatic, Guy. I wish you had taken your crazy patient elsewhere."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's all right, mother. She's only subject to these noisy fits at -periodical times. On certain occasions she appears and talks as sanely -as you or I. Sally can tell you."</p> - -<p>"That I can," said Sally. "You'd oughter heerd her, missis, when she -fust came in, a-pleading, you know, with me to assist her, and not help -to keep her a prisoner here. I declare, it quite went to my heart. And -she looked so little, and so young, and so helpless, poor creature!"</p> - -<p>"You're sure her room's all safe and secure, Sally—windows and all?"</p> - -<p>"Sure as sure, master. Jack the Giant Killer couldn't remove them 'ere -bars."</p> - -<p>"Because," said Dr. Oleander, "she is quite capable, in her mad fits, of -precipitating herself out of the window and breaking her neck. And be -careful, Sally, you cut up her food when you take it to her. Don't bring -her any knives or forks."</p> - -<p>"I said I wouldn't go near her," said old Sally, facing him resolutely; -"and I won't! And what's more, Peter won't! And if you fetches mad-women -here, Doctor Guy, you've got to 'tend onto 'em yourself, sir. I won't be -'sassynated in my old age by crazy lunatics; and no more my old man -won't, neither. There now!"</p> - -<p>Sally finished with a shower of resolute nods. Dr. Oleander knew her a -great deal too well to remonstrate. When Sally "put her foot down" all -the powers of earth and Hades couldn't put it up again.</p> - -<p>"You will be here yourself to-morrow, Guy," said his mother, decisively. -"Wait upon her yourself, then."</p> - -<p>"But I must return to New York to-morrow afternoon."</p> - -<p>"Very well; get an attendant for your crazy patient and send her down. -If the young lady's friends are as wealthy as you say, they will surely -let her have a keeper."</p> - -<p>"They will let her have a dozen if necessary; that is not the question."</p> - -<p>"What, then?"</p> - -<p>"Have you accommodation for another in this old barn? Can you put up -with the trouble?"</p> - -<p>"We'll endeavor to do so for your sake. It is easier to put up with -another person in the house than be at the beck and call of a lunatic -ourselves. Send one from New York capable of taking care of your crazy -young lady, and Sally and I will take care of her."</p> - -<p>"Thanks! And meantime?"</p> - -<p>"Meantime, I will wait upon her myself—if you will assure me she will -not be violent."</p> - -<p>"I think I can. She is only violent with me, poor soul. She has got an -idea into her weak, deranged little head that she is as sane as you or -I, and that I have carried her off by force and keep her prisoner here. -She goes raving mad at sight of me, but with you she may probably be -cool enough. She will tell you a piteous story of how she has been -entrapped and carried off from home, if you will listen to her. You -had better not; it only encourages her unfortunate delusion."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander shrugged her broad shoulders. She was an old woman of -strong mind and iron resolution, and nothing in the way of heart to -speak of. Her accomplished son took after her in these admirable -qualities.</p> - -<p>"I have other fish to fry than listening to the empty babble of a -maniac. By the bye, what did you say her name was?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane," responded the doctor, after a slight pause.</p> - -<p>He knew he might as well tell the truth about it, or Mollie herself -would for him.</p> - -<p>"And she is a relative of Blanche's husband?"</p> - -<p>"A very near though unacknowledged relation. And now, mother mine, I'll -take my supper and turn in if you'll permit me. I've had a very long and -fatiguing drive this stormy night."</p> - -<p>He sat down to the table and fell to work with an appetite. Old Sally -waited upon him, and gazed at his performance with admiring eyes.</p> - -<p>"Won't your young lady want something, Guy?" his mother asked, -presently.</p> - -<p>"Let her fast a little," replied the doctor, coolly; "it will take some -of the unnecessary heat out of her blood. I'll fetch her her breakfast -to-morrow."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander upon this retired at once, and the doctor, after smoking -old Peter's pipe in the chimney-corner, retired also.</p> - -<p>Then the old man hobbled upstairs to bed, and Sally, after raking out -the fire, and seeing to the secure fastening of doors and windows, took -up her tallow candle and went after him.</p> - -<p>Outside the door of the poor little captive she paused, listening in a -sort of breathless awe. But no sound came forth: the tumult of wind, and -sea, and rain had the inky night all to themselves.</p> - -<p>"She's asleep, I reckon," said old Sally, creeping away. "Poor little, -pretty creeter!"</p> - -<p>But Mollie was not asleep. When the door had closed after Dr. Oleander, -she had dropped on the floor like a stone, and had never stirred since.</p> - -<p>She was not in a faint. She saw the ruddy blaze of the fire, as the -tongues of flame leaped like red serpents up the chimney; she heard the -wild howling of the night wind, the ceaseless dash and fall of the rain, -the indescribable roar of the raging sea; she heard the trees creak and -toss and groan; she heard the rats scampering overhead; she heard the -dismal moaning of the old house itself rocking in the gale.</p> - -<p>She saw, she heard, but as one who neither sees nor hears; like one in -a drugged, unnatural stupor. She could not think; an iron hand seemed to -have clutched her heart, a dreadful despair to have taken possession of -her. She had made a horrible, irreparable mistake; she was body and soul -in the power of the man she hated most on earth. She was his wife!—she -could get no further than that.</p> - -<p>The stormy night wore on; midnight came and the elemental uproar was at -its height. Still she lay there all in a heap, suffering in a dulled, -miserable way that was worse than sharpest pain. She lay there stunned, -overwhelmed, not caring if she ever rose again.</p> - -<p>And so morning found her—when morning lifted a dull and leaden eye -over the stormy sea. It came gloomy and gray, rain falling still, wind -whispering pitifully, and a sky of lead frowning down upon the drenched, -dank earth and tossing, angry ocean.</p> - -<p>All in a heap, as she had fallen, Mollie lay, her head resting on a -chair, her poor golden ringlets tossed in a wild, disheveled veil, fast -asleep. Pitifully, as sleep will come to the young, be their troubles -ever so heavy, sleep had sealed those beaming blue eyes, "not used to -tears at night instead of slumber." Tears, Mollie had shed none—the -blow that had fallen had left her far beyond that.</p> - -<p>Nine o'clock struck; there was a tap at the prison door. Dr. Oleander, -thinking his patient's fast had lasted long enough, was coming with a -bountiful breakfast. There was no reply to the tap.</p> - -<p>"Mollie," the doctor called, gently, "it is I with your breakfast. I am -coming in."</p> - -<p>Still no response. He turned the key in the lock, opened the door and -entered.</p> - -<p>What he had expected, Dr. Oleander did not know; he was in a little -tremor all over. What he saw was his poor, little prisoner crouched -on the floor, her face fallen on a chair, half hidden by the shower -of amber curls, sleeping like a very babe.</p> - -<p>The hardened man caught his breath; it was a sight to touch any heart; -perhaps it even found its way to his.</p> - -<p>He stood and looked at her a moment, his eyes getting humid, and softly -set down his tray.</p> - -<p>"'The Sleeping Beauty,'" he said, under his breath. "What an exquisite -picture she makes! My poor little, pretty little Mollie!"</p> - -<p>He had made scarcely any noise; he stood gazing at her spell-bound; but -that very gaze awoke her.</p> - -<p>She fluttered like a bird in its nest, murmured indistinctly, her -eyelids quivered a second, then the blue eyes opened wide, and directly -she was wide awake.</p> - -<p>"Good-morning, Mollie," said the doctor. "I'm afraid I awoke you, and -you were sleeping like an angel. You have no idea how lovely you look -asleep. But such a very uncomfortable place, my dear one. Why didn't you -go to bed like a reasonable being?"</p> - -<p>Mollie rose slowly and gathered away her fallen hair from her face. Her -cheeks were flushed pink with sleep, her eyes were calm and steadfast, -full of invincible resolution. She sat down in the chair she had used -for a pillow, and looked at him steadily.</p> - -<p>"You may take that away, Doctor Oleander," she said. "I will neither eat -nor drink under this roof."</p> - -<p>"Oh, nonsense, Mollie!" said the doctor, in no way alarmed by this -threat; "yes, you will. Look at this buttered toast, at these eggs, at -this ham, at these preserves, raspberry jam. Mollie—'sweets to the -sweet,' you know—look at them and you'll think better of it."</p> - -<p>She turned her back upon him in bitter disdain.</p> - -<p>"Mollie," the doctor said, beseechingly, "don't be so obstinately set -against me. You weren't, you know, until I removed my disguise. I'm no -worse now than I was before."</p> - -<p>"I never thought it was you," Mollie said, in a voice of still despair.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, you did. You dreaded it was me—you hoped it was that puppy, -Ingelow, confound him! Why, Mollie, he doesn't care for you one tithe -of what I do. See what I have risked for you—reputation, liberty, -everything that man holds dear."</p> - -<p>"And you shall lose them yet," Mollie said, between her clinched teeth.</p> - -<p>"I have made myself a felon to obtain you, Mollie. I love you better -than myself—than anything in the world. You are my wife—be my wife, -and forgive me."</p> - -<p>"Never!" cried Mollie passionately, raising her arm aloft with a gesture -worthy of Siddons or Ristori; "may I never be forgiven when I die if I -do! I could kill you this moment, as I would a rat, if I had it in my -power, and with as little compunction. I hate you—I hate you—I hate -you! How I hate you words are too poor and weak to tell!"</p> - -<p>"Of course," said the doctor, with ineffable calm: "it's perfectly -natural just now. But you'll get over it, Mollie, believe me you will, -and like me all the better by and by."</p> - -<p>"Will you go?" said Mollie, her eyes beginning to blaze.</p> - -<p>"Listen to me first," said the doctor, earnestly. "Listen to me, I -implore you, Mollie! I have taken a dangerous step in fetching you -here—in marrying you as I did; my very life is at stake. Do you think I -will stick at trifles now? No. You must either return to New York as my -wife, openly acknowledging yourself such, or—never return. Wait—wait, -Mollie! Don't interrupt. You are altogether in my power. If you were -hidden in a dungeon of the French Bastile you could not be more secure -or secluded than here. There is no house within five miles; there is -the wild sea, the wild woods, a stretch of flat, barren, marshy -sea-coast—nothing more. No one ever comes here by water or land. There -are iron bars to those windows, and the windows are fifteen feet from -the ground. The people in this house think you mad—the more you tell -them to the contrary the less they will believe you. In New York they -have not the slightest clew to your whereabouts. You vanished once -before and came back—they will set this down as a similar trick, and -not trouble themselves about you. You are mine, Mollie, mine—mine! -There is no alternative in the wide earth."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander's face flashed with triumph, his voice rang out exultantly, -his form seemed to tower with victory, his eyes flashed like burning -coals. He made one step toward her.</p> - -<p>"Mine, Mollie; mine you have been, mine you will be for life. The gods -have willed it so, Mollie—my wife!"</p> - -<p>Another step nearer, triumphant, victorious, then Mollie lifted her arm -with a queenly gesture and uttered one word:</p> - -<p>"Stop!"</p> - -<p>She was standing by the mantel, drawn up to her full height, her face -whiter than snow, rigid as marble, but the blue eyes blazing blue flame.</p> - -<p>"Back, Doctor Oleander! Not one step nearer if you value your life!" She -put her hand in her bosom and drew out a glittering plaything—a curious -dagger of foreign workmanship she had once taken from Carl Walraven. -"Before I left home, Doctor Oleander, I took this. I did not expect to -have to use it, but I took it. Look at it; see its blue, keen glitter. -It is a pretty, little toy, but it proves you a false boaster and a -liar! It leaves me one alternative—death!"</p> - -<p>"Mollie! For God's sake!"</p> - -<p>There was that in the girl's white, rigid face that frightened the -strong man. He recoiled and looked at the little flashing serpent with -horror.</p> - -<p>"I have listened to you, Doctor Guy Oleander," said Mollie Dane, slowly, -solemnly; "now listen to me. All you say may be true, but yours I never -will be—never, never, never! Before you can lay one finger on me this -knife can reach my heart or yours. I don't much care which, but yours if -I can. If I am your wife, as you say, the sooner I am dead the better."</p> - -<p>"Mollie, for Heaven's sake—"</p> - -<p>But Mollie, like a tragedy queen, waved her hand and interrupted him:</p> - -<p>"They say life is sweet—I suppose it is—but if I am your wife I have -no desire to live, unless, indeed, to be revenged on you. Put a dose of -arsenic in yonder coffee-cup and give me the draught. I will drink it."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander grinned horribly a ghastly smile.</p> - -<p>"I had much rather give you a love-philter, Mollie," he said, recovering -from his first scare. "Unhappily, the age of love-philters seems to have -passed. And now I will leave you for the present—time will work -wonders, I think. I must go back to New York; no one must suspect I have -left it for an hour. I will return in a day or two, and by that time I -trust you will no longer be in such a reckless frame of mind. I don't -want you to die by any means; you are a great deal too pretty and -piquant, and I love you far too well. Good-bye, my spirited little wife, -for a couple of days."</p> - -<p>He bowed low and left the room, locking the door carefully. And when he -was gone Mollie drooped at once, leaning against the mantel, pale and -trembling, her hands over her face—alone with her despair.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> - -<h3>MIRIAM TO THE RESCUE.</h3> - - -<p>An artist stood in his studio, overlooking busy, bright Broadway. He -stood before his easel, gazing in a sort of rapture at his own work. It -was only a sketch, a sketch worthy of a master, and its name was "The -Rose Before It Bloomed." A girl's bright, sweet face, looking out of a -golden aureole of wild, loose hair; a pair of liquid, starry, azure -eyes; a mouth like a rosebud, half pouting, half smiling. An exquisite -face—rosy, dimpled, youthful as Hebe's own—the radiant face of Mollie -Dane.</p> - -<p>The day was near its close, and was dying in regal splendor. All day the -dark, dreary rain had fallen wearily, ceaselessly; but just as twilight, -ghostly and gray, was creeping up from the horizon, there had flashed -out a sudden sunburst of indescribable glory.</p> - -<p>The heavens seemed to open, and a glimpse of paradise to show, so grand -and glorious was the oriflamme of crimson and purple and orange and gold -that transfigured the whole firmament.</p> - -<p>A lurid light filled the studio, and turned the floating yellow hair of -the picture to living, burnished ripples of gold.</p> - -<p>"It is Mollie—living, breathing, lovely Mollie!" the artist said to -himself in sudden exultation—"beautiful, bewitching Mollie! Fit to sit -by a king's side and wear his crown. Come in!"</p> - -<p>For a tap at the studio door suddenly brought our enthusiastic artist -back to earth. He flung a cloth over the sketch, and leaned gracefully -against the easel.</p> - -<p>The figure that entered somewhat disturbed the young man's -constitutional phlegm—it was so unlike his usual run of visitors—a -remarkable figure, tall, gaunt, and bony, clad in wretched garb; a -haggard, powerful face, weather-beaten and brown, and two blazing black -eyes.</p> - -<p>The artist opened his own handsome orbs to their widest extent.</p> - -<p>"I wish to see Mr. Hugh Ingelow," said this singular woman in a deep -bass voice.</p> - -<p>"I am Hugh Ingelow, madame, at your service."</p> - -<p>The woman fixed her burning eyes on the calm, serenely handsome face. -The lazy hazel eyes of the artist met hers coolly, unflinchingly.</p> - -<p>"I await your pleasure, madame. Will you enter and sit down?"</p> - -<p>The woman came in, closed the door cautiously after her, but declined -the proffered seat.</p> - -<p>"To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?" asked the artist, -quietly. "I have not the pleasure of knowing you."</p> - -<p>"I am Mollie Dane's aunt."</p> - -<p>"Ah, indeed!" and Mr. Hugh Ingelow lighted up, for the first time, with -something like human interest. "Yes, yes; I remember you now. You came -to Mr. Carl Walraven's wedding and gave us a little touch of high -tragedy. Pray sit down, and tell me what I can do for you."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to sit. I want you to answer me a question."</p> - -<p>"One hundred, if you like."</p> - -<p>"Do you know where Mollie Dane is?"</p> - -<p>"Not exactly," said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "I'm not blessed, unfortunately, -with the gift of the fairy prince in the child's tale. I can't see my -friends through walls of stone and mortar; but I take it she is at the -palatial mansion uptown."</p> - -<p>"She is not!"</p> - -<p>"Eh?"</p> - -<p>"She is not!" reiterated Miriam. "I have just been there. They are in -the utmost alarm and distress—at least, Mr. Walraven appears to be. -Mollie has again disappeared."</p> - -<p>"By Jove!" cried Mr. Ingelow, in dismay.</p> - -<p>"She left the house late last night. One of the servants, it appears, -saw her go, and she has never been heard of or seen since."</p> - -<p>"By Jove!" for the second time exclaimed Hugh Ingelow.</p> - -<p>"It is supposed that she has met with foul play—been inveigled away -from home, and is in the power of a villain."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Mr. Ingelow, drawing a long breath, "Miss Dane has the -greatest knack of causing sensations of any lady I ever knew. Pray, are -you aware this is the second time such a thing has happened?"</p> - -<p>"I am quite aware of it. Also, that she went against her will."</p> - -<p>"Indeed! Being so near a relative, it is natural you should be posted. -And now, may I beg to know," said the young man, with cool politeness, -"why you do me the honor to come and inform me?"</p> - -<p>Miriam looked at him with her eagle glance—keen, side-long, searching. -Mr. Ingelow made her a slight bow.</p> - -<p>"Well, madame?" smiling carelessly.</p> - -<p>"Do you not know?"</p> - -<p>"I?"—a broad stare. "Really, madame, I am at a loss—How should I -know?"</p> - -<p>"Did you not meet Mollie last night at the corner of Broadway and -Fourteenth Street?"</p> - -<p>"Most certainly not."</p> - -<p>"Where were you at ten o'clock last evening?"</p> - -<p>Again Mr. Ingelow smiled.</p> - -<p>"Really, a raking cross-examination. Permit me to decline answering that -question."</p> - -<p>"And you know nothing of Mollie's previous disappearance—of that -mysterious fortnight?"</p> - -<p>"My good woman, be reasonable. I'm not an astrologer, nor a wizard, -nor yet a clairvoyant. I'm not in Miss Dane's confidence. I put it to -yourself—how should I know?"</p> - -<p>"You shuffle—you equivocate!" cried Miriam, impatiently. "Why don't you -answer at once—yes or no?"</p> - -<p>"My dear lady," with a deprecating wave of his shapely hand, "don't be -so dreadfully blunt. Pray tell me of what you accuse me—of forcibly -abducting Miss Dane last night at ten o'clock? With my hand on my heart, -madame, on the word of a man and brother—on the honor of an artist—I -solemnly asseverate I didn't do it!"</p> - -<p>Miriam groaned.</p> - -<p>"Then what has become of that unfortunate child? She thought it was you, -or she never would have gone."</p> - -<p>The fair, refined face of the artist flushed deep red, and he was grave -in an instant.</p> - -<p>"Madame, what do you say?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know!" cried the woman, vehemently. "You surely know, else all -you men are blinder than bats. You know she loved you well."</p> - -<p>"Oh, madame!"</p> - -<p>The young man caught his breath.</p> - -<p>"She told me so herself," cried Miriam, recklessly betraying this, and -wringing her hands; "and she went last night, hoping it was you."</p> - -<p>The momentary expression of rapture had quite faded out of Mr. Ingelow's -face by this time, and, leaning against his easel, he was listening with -cool attention. But if Miriam could have known how this man's heart was -plunging against his ribs!</p> - -<p>"I think there is a mistake somewhere," said Hugh, with <i>sang-froid</i>. -"Miss Dane refused me."</p> - -<p>"Bah!" said Miriam, with infinite scorn; "much you know of women, to -take that for a test! But it isn't to talk of love I came here. I am -half distracted. The child has met with foul play, I am certain, since -you are here."</p> - -<p>"Will you have the goodness to explain, my good woman," said Mr. -Ingelow, beseechingly. "Consider, I am all in the dark."</p> - -<p>"And I can not enlighten you without telling you the whole story, and if -you are not the hero of it, I have no right, and no wish, to do that. -One question I will ask you," fixing her powerful eyes on his face: "Do -you still love Mollie Dane?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow smiled serene as the sunset sky outside.</p> - -<p>"A point-blank question. Forgive me if I decline answering it."</p> - -<p>Miriam's eyes flashed fire.</p> - -<p>"You never cared for her!" she said, in fierce impatience. "You are a -poltroon and a carpet-knight, like the rest—ready with plenty of fine -words, and nothing else! You asked her to marry you, and you don't care -whether she is living or dead!"</p> - -<p>"Why should I?" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "She refused to marry me."</p> - -<p>"And with a flighty girl's refusal your profound, and lasting, and all -enduring love dies out, like a dip-candle under an extinguisher! Oh, you -are all alike—all alike! Selfish, and mean, and cruel, and false, and -fickle to the very heart's core!"</p> - -<p>"Hard words," said Mr. Ingelow, with infinite calm. "You make sweeping -assertions, madame, but there is just a possibility of your being -mistaken, after all."</p> - -<p>"Words, words, words!" Miriam cried, bitterly. "Words in plenty, but no -actions! I wish my tongue had been palsied ere I uttered what I have -uttered within this hour!"</p> - -<p>"My dear madame, softly, softly! Pray, pray do not be so impetuous. -Don't jump at such frantic conclusions! I assure you, my words are not -empty sound. I mean 'em, every one. I'll do anything in reason for you -or your charming niece."</p> - -<p>"In reason!" said the woman, with a scornful laugh. "Oh, no doubt! -You'll take, exceeding good care to be calm and reasonable, and weigh -the pros and cons, and not get yourself into trouble to deliver the girl -you wanted to marry the other day from captivity—from death, perhaps! -She refused you, and that is quite sufficient."</p> - -<p>"Now, now!" cried Mr. Ingelow, appealing to the four walls in -desperation. "Did ever mortal man hear the like of this? -Captivity—death! My good woman—my dear lady—can't you draw it a -little milder? Is not this New York City? And are we not in the year of -grace eighteen hundred and ninety? Pray, don't go back to the Dark Ages, -when lovers went clad in clanking suits of mail, and forcibly carried -off brides from the altar, under the priest's very nose, <i>à la</i> Young -Lochinvar. Do be reasonable, there's a good soul!"</p> - -<p>Miriam turned her back upon him in superb disdain.</p> - -<p>"And this is the man Mollie preferred! This is the man I thought would -help me! Mr. Hugh Ingelow, I wish you good-evening."</p> - -<p>"No, no." exclaimed Mr. Ingelow, starting up. "Not yet! Open the -mysteries a little before you depart. I'm willing and ready to aid you -to the best of my ability. Tell me what I'm to do, and I'll do it."</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to tell," Miriam said, steadfastly. "I will not put you -to the trouble of helping me."</p> - -<p>"But you must!" cried the artist, suddenly transforming himself into a -new man. "If Mollie Dane is really in danger, then I must know, and aid -her. No one has a better right, for no one on earth loves her as well as -I do."</p> - -<p>"Ha!" exclaimed Miriam, stopping short. "We have it at last, have we? You -love her, then?"</p> - -<p>"With all my heart, and mind, and strength; as I never have loved, and -never will love, any other earthly creature. Now, then, sit down here -and tell me, from first to last, what you came here to tell."</p> - -<p>He wheeled forward a chair, took the woman by both shoulders, and -compelled her to be seated. His face was very pale, his eyes alight, his -statuesque mouth stern, and set, and powerful.</p> - -<p>Miriam looked at him with dawning admiration and respect. The man that -makes them obey is the man women are pretty safe to adore.</p> - -<p>"Now, then," he said—"now, Madame Miriam, I want you to begin at the -beginning and tell me all. If Mollie Dane is above ground, I will find -her."</p> - -<p>The woman looked up in his handsome face, locked in grim, inflexible -resolution—an iron face now—and relaxed.</p> - -<p>"Mollie was not deceived in you, after all. I am glad of it, I like you. -I would give a year of my life to see you safely her husband."</p> - -<p>"Many thanks! Pity she is not of the same mind!"</p> - -<p>"Girls change.—You never asked her but once. Suppose you try again. You -are young enough and handsome enough to win whomsoever you please."</p> - -<p>"You are complimentary. Suppose we leave all that and proceed to -business. Tell me what you know of Miss Dane's abduction."</p> - -<p>He seated himself before her and waited, his eyes fixed gravely on her -face.</p> - -<p>"To make what I have to say intelligible," said Miriam, "it is necessary -to give you an insight into the mystery of her previous evanishment. She -was tricked away by artifice, carried off and forcibly held a prisoner -by a man whose masked face she never saw."</p> - -<p>"Impossible! Mr. Walraven told me, told every one, she was with you."</p> - -<p>"Very likely. Also, that I was dying or dead. The one part is as true as -the other. Mollie never was near me. She was forcibly detained by this -unknown man for a fortnight, then brought home. She told me the story, -and also who she suspected that man to be."</p> - -<p>"Who?"</p> - -<p>Miriam looked at him curiously.</p> - -<p>"Doctor Guy Oleander, or—you!"</p> - -<p>"Ah, you jest, madame!" haughtily.</p> - -<p>"I do not. She was mistaken, it appears, but she really thought it might -be you. To make sure, she found means of communicating with this strange -man, and a meeting was appointed for last night, ten o'clock, corner of -Broadway and Fourteenth Street".</p> - -<p>"Yes! Well?"</p> - -<p>"Mollie went, still thinking—perhaps I should say hoping—it might be -you, Mr. Ingelow: and I, too, was there."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Mollie did not see me. I hovered aloof. It was only half past nine when -she came—half an hour too early—but already a carriage was waiting, -and a man, disguised in hat and cloak and flowing beard, stepped forward -and accosted her at once. What he said to her I don't know, but he -persuaded her, evidently with reluctance, to enter the carriage with -him. The rain was pouring. I suppose that was why she went. In a moment -the coachman had whipped up the horses, and they were off like a flash."</p> - -<p>Miriam paused. Mr. Ingelow sat staring at her with a face of pale amaze.</p> - -<p>"It sounds like a scene from a melodrama. And Miss Dane has not returned -since?"</p> - -<p>"No; and the household on Fifth Avenue are at their wits' end to -comprehend it."</p> - -<p>"And so am I," said the artist. "From what you say, it is evident she -went willingly—of her own accord. In such a case, of course, I can do -nothing."</p> - -<p>"She did not go willingly. I am certain she entered that carriage under -the impression she was going with you."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow's sensitive face reddened. He rose and walked to the window.</p> - -<p>"But since it was not I, who do you suppose it may have been?"</p> - -<p>"Doctor Oleander."</p> - -<p>"No! He would not dare!"</p> - -<p>"I don't know him," said Miriam; "but from what Mollie says of him, I -should judge him to be capable of anything. He loves her, and he is -madly jealous; and jealous men stop at nothing. Then, too, Mrs. Walraven -would aid him. She hates Mollie as only one woman can hate another."</p> - -<p>"Doctor Oleander, then, must be the man who abducted her before, else -how could he keep the assignation?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Miriam, "that is the worst of it. Poor Mollie! it will drive -her mad. She detests the man with all her heart. If she is in his power, -he will show her no mercy. Mr. Ingelow, can you aid her, or must I seek -her alone and unaided?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow was standing with his back to her, looking out at the last -yellow line of the sunset streaking the twilight sky. He turned partly -around, very, very pale, as the woman, could see, and answered, -guardedly:</p> - -<p>"You had better do nothing, I think. You had better leave the matter -altogether to me. Our game is shy, and easily scared. Leave me to deal -with him. I think, in a battle of wits, I am a match even for Guy -Oleander; and if Mollie is not home before the moon wanes, it will be -no fault of mine."</p> - -<p>"I will trust you," Miriam said, rising and walking to the door. "You -will lose no time. The poor child is, no doubt, in utter misery."</p> - -<p>"I will lose no time. You must give me a week. This day week come back, -if Mollie is not home, and I will meet you here."</p> - -<p>Miriam bowed her head and opened the door.</p> - -<p>"Mollie will thank you—I can not. Farewell!"</p> - -<p>"Until this day week," Hugh Ingelow said, with a courteous smile and -bow.</p> - -<p>And then Miriam Dane was gone, flitting through bustling Broadway like a -tall, haggard ghost.</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow turned back to the window, his brows knit, his lips -compressed, his eyes glowing with a deep, intense fire—thinking. So he -stood while the low, yellow gleams died out of the western sky, and the -crystal stars swung in the azure arch—thinking, thinking!</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> - -<h3>"SHE ONLY SAID, 'MY LIFE IS DREARY.'"</h3> - - -<p>That same brilliant sunburst that transfigured the artist's studio in -Broadway blazed into the boudoir of Mrs. Carl Walraven, and turned the -western windows to sheets of quivering flame.</p> - -<p>Elegant and handsome, in a superb dinner-dress of rose-bloom silk and -pale emeralds, Mrs. Walraven lay back on her sofa and looked up in the -face of her cousin Guy.</p> - -<p>"Booted and spurred," as if from a journey, the young man stood before -her, hat in hand, relating the success of their scheme. A little pale, -a good deal fagged, and very anxious, Dr. Guy had sought his cousin the -very first thing on his arrival in town. Mrs. Carl, arrayed for -conquest, going out to a grand dinner-party, was very well disposed to -linger and listen. An exultant smile wreathed her full, ripe lips and -lighted the big black eyes with triumph.</p> - -<p>"Poor little fool!" she said. "How nicely she baited her own trap, and -how nicely she walked into it! Thank the stars, she is out of my way! -Guy, if you let her come back, I'll never forgive you!"</p> - -<p>"By Jove, Blanche!" said the doctor, bluntly, "if she ever comes back, -it will matter very little whether you forgive me or not. I shall -probably go for change of air to Sing Sing for the remainder of my -mortal career."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! there is not the slightest danger. The ball is in your own hands; -Mollie is safe as safe in your dreary farmhouse by the sea. Your mother -and Sally and Peter are all true as steel; no danger of her escaping -from them."</p> - -<p>"No; but they decline to have anything to do with my mad patient. It -was no easy matter, I can tell you, to get them to consent to having her -there at all. I must get her an attendant."</p> - -<p>"That increases the risk. However, the risk is slight. Advertise."</p> - -<p>"I mean to. I sent an advertisement to the papers before I came here, -carefully worded. Applicants are to come to my office. Those who read -it, and who know me, will think I want a nurse for one of my invalids, -of course."</p> - -<p>"You will be very careful in your selection, Guy?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. My life depends upon it. It is a terrible risk to run, -Blanche, for a foolish little girl."</p> - -<p>"Bah! Quaking already? And you pretend to love her?"</p> - -<p>"I do love her!" the young man cried, passionately. "I love her to -madness, or I would not risk life and liberty to obtain her."</p> - -<p>"I don't see the risk," said Mrs. Blanche, coldly. "You have the cards -in your own hands—play them as you choose. Only you and I know the -secret."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander looked at his fair relative with a very gloomy face.</p> - -<p>"A secret that two know is a secret no longer."</p> - -<p>"Do you dare doubt me?" demanded the lady, fiercely.</p> - -<p>"No—yes—I don't know. Oh! never look so haughtily insulted, Mrs. -Walraven. I almost doubt myself. It's my first felony, and it is natural -a fellow should quake a little. But Mollie is worth the risk—worth ten -thousand risks. If it were to do over again, I would do it. By Heaven, -Blanche! you should have seen her as she stood there brandishing that -dagger aloft and defying me! I never saw anything so transcendently -beautiful!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven's scornful upper lip curled.</p> - -<p>"Lady Macbeth—four feet high—eh? 'Give me the daggers!' I always knew -she was a vixen. Your married life is likely to be a happy one, my dear -Guy!"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Dr. Guy aspirated, "if she only were my wife! Blanche, I would -give all I possess on earth to know who that man is!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Mme. Blanche, coolly. "Then I think I can tell you: it -was Hugh Ingelow."</p> - -<p>"Blanche!"</p> - -<p>"I have no positive knowledge, you see, of the fact," went on the lady, -adjusting her regal robes, "but an inward prescience tells me so. -However, you may remarry her and welcome, Guy. I don't think she will -hardly be tried for bigamy. The happy man, whoever he may be, will -scarcely come forward and prove the previous marriage."</p> - -<p>"And she loves this Hugh Ingelow?" the doctor said, moodily.</p> - -<p>"She told that old lady so," Mrs. Blanche said, airily. "But, my dear -love-struck cousin, what of that? To love, is one thing; to have, is -another. She may love Ingelow, but she is yours. Make her your wife. -Teach her to overcame that little weakness."</p> - -<p>"As soon as I can settle my affairs," said Doctor Oleander, resolutely, -"I shall leave the country. I have a friend in Havana—a physician. -There is a promising opening out there, he tells me. I'll take Mollie -and go."</p> - -<p>"I would," replied Mrs. Walraven, cheerfully. "It's a nice, unhealthy -climate; and then, when you are a widower—as you will be, thanks to -yellow fever—come back to dear New York. There's no place like it. And -now, my dear Guy, I don't wish to be rude, you know, but if you would -depart at once, you would very much oblige me."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven stood up, walked over to the whole-length mirror, and took -a prolonged and complacent view of her full-blown charms.</p> - -<p>"How do you think I am looking, Guy?" languidly. "Rather too pale, am -I not? I must have recourse to that vulgar necessity, rouge. Don't you -think this new shade of pink lovely? and so highly suitable to my -brunette style."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander gave her a glance of disgust, took his hat, and turned to -leave.</p> - -<p>"I didn't come here to talk of new shades of pink, or your brunette -style, either. Excuse me for trespassing on your valuable time, and -permit me to wish you good-evening."</p> - -<p>"Good-evening, cousin mine," Mme. Blanche responded, sweetly. "Come -to-morrow, and we'll have another little chat. By the bye, how long do -you expect to remain in the city?"</p> - -<p>"Until I have engaged an attendant," answered the doctor, rather -sulkily.</p> - -<p>"Ah! and that will be day after to-morrow, at furthest. You will find -dozens of applicants. Well, by-bye. Come again soon. I shall be anxious -always for your success."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander departed. His practice was extensive, and he had hosts of -neglected patients to attend to.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven saw nothing of him all next day; but in the evening of the -succeeding day, and just as she was getting very uneasy, Dr. Oleander -entered, pale and fagged.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander had spent a most harassing afternoon, his office besieged -with applicants for that advertised situation. The number of incapables -that thought themselves capable, and the number of capables who flatly -declined the moment they heard they were to go down into the country, -might have worn out the patience of a more patient man. And the capables -willing to overlook the dreariness of the country in consideration of -high wages rose up immediately and bid him good-day when informed the -patient was a lunatic.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander was driven to the verge of desperation, when, lo! just as -he was about to give it up in despair, there entered an applicant who -suited as if made to order.</p> - -<p>The applicant—this "last, and brightest, and best"—was a woman of -uncertain age, tall and stout, strong and strapping, and adorned with a -head of violent red hair and a pair of green spectacles. Minus these two -disagreeable items, she was a highly respectable woman, with a grave, -shrewd face, and a portly person wrapped in a somber plaid shawl.</p> - -<p>She stated her case. She had seen the advertisement, and had come to -apply for the situation. She was accustomed to the office of sick-nurse, -and considered herself fully qualified for it.</p> - -<p>Her statement was plain and straightforward—much more so than that of -her predecessors. Dr. Oleander was inclined to be pleased, despite the -green spectacles.</p> - -<p>"But I should wish you to go into the country—a very dull place -indeed."</p> - -<p>The applicant folded her cotton gloves one over the other, and met the -doctor's gaze with composed green glasses.</p> - -<p>"The country is no objection, sir. I'm used to quiet, and all places are -alike to me."</p> - -<p>"You have your credentials with you, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"I have, sir. Here they are."</p> - -<p>She handed two or three certificates of capability to the toxicologist.</p> - -<p>He glanced them lightly over, and saw that Mrs. Susan Sharpe was all -that heart could desire in the way of sick-nurse.</p> - -<p>"These are satisfactory," handing them back. "But I have one fact to -mention that may discourage you: the lady—the patient—is insane."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Susan Sharpe heard this startling statement without moving a muscle -of her dull, white face.</p> - -<p>"Indeed, sir! A violent lunatic, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, no! merely insane. Subject to occasional fits of violence, -you understand, but quiet generally. But even in her most violent fits -she would be nothing in your hands—a strong, large woman like you. She -is little more than a child in years, and quite a child in weakness. If -you don't mind the dullness of the country, you would suit admirably, I -think."</p> - -<p>"I don't in the least mind, sir. The situation will suit me very well."</p> - -<p>"I am very glad to hear it," said the doctor, immensely relieved. "We -may consider it a bargain, then?"</p> - -<p>"If you please, sir," rising quietly. "When will you want me to go?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow morning. By the way, Mrs. Sharpe," said the doctor, eying the -obnoxious lunettes, "why do you wear green glasses?"</p> - -<p>"My eyes are weak, sir." Mrs. Sharpe removed the spectacles as she -spoke, and displayed a pair of dull gray eyes with very pink rims. "The -light affects them. I hope my glasses are no objection, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, not in the least! Excuse my question. Very well, then, Mrs. Sharpe; -just give me your address, and I'll call round for you to-morrow -forenoon."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe gave him the street and number—a dirty locality near the -East River. Dr. Oleander "made a note of it," and the new nurse made her -best obeisance and departed.</p> - -<p>And, to inform Mme. Blanche of his success in this matter, Dr. Guy -presented himself at the Walraven mansion just as the misty twilight was -creeping out and the stars and street lamps were lighting up.</p> - -<p>He found the lady, as usual, beautiful and elegant, and dressed to -perfection, and ready to receive him alone in the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>"I've been seriously anxious about you, Guy," Mrs. Walraven said. "Your -prolonged absence nearly gave me a nervous fit. I had serious ideas of -calling at your office this afternoon. Why were you not here sooner?"</p> - -<p>"Why wasn't I? Because I couldn't be in half a dozen places at once," -answered her cousin, rather crossly. "I've been badgered within an inch -of my life by confounded women in shabby dresses and poky bonnets all -day. Out of two or three bushels of chaff I only found one grain of -wheat."</p> - -<p>"And that one?"</p> - -<p>"Her earthly name is Susan Sharpe, and she rejoices in red hair and -green glasses, and the blood and brawn and muscle of a gladiator—a -treasure who doesn't object to a howling wilderness or a raving-mad -patient. I clinched her at once."</p> - -<p>"And she goes with you—when?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow morning. If Mollie's still obdurate, I must leave her in this -woman's charge, and return to town. As soon as I can settle my affairs, -I will go back to the farm and be off with my bride to Havana."</p> - -<p>"Always supposing she will not consent to return with you to New York in -that character?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. But she never will do that," the doctor said, despondently. -"You don't know how she hates me, Blanche."</p> - -<p>Blanche shrugged her graceful shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Do you implicitly trust this woman you have hired?"</p> - -<p>"I trust no one," responded Dr. Guy, brusquely. "My mother and Sally and -Peter will watch her. Although, I dare say, there may be no necessity, -it is always best to be on the safe side."</p> - -<p>"How I should like to see her—to triumph over her—to exult in her -misery!" Blanche cried, her eyes sparkling.</p> - -<p>"I dare say," said Dr. Oleander, with sneering cynicism. "You would not -be a woman, else. But you will never have the chance. I don't hate my -poor little captive, remember. There! is that the dinner-bell?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—come! We have Sir Roger Trajenna to-day, and Mr. Walraven detests -being kept waiting."</p> - -<p>"Poor Sir Roger!" with a sneering laugh. "How does the lovesick old -dotard bear this second loss?"</p> - -<p>"Better than he did the first; his pride aids him. It is my husband who -is like a man distraught."</p> - -<p>"The voice of Nature speaks loudly in the paternal-breast," said Dr. -Oleander. "'Nater will caper,' as Ethan Spike says. Mollie's mamma must -have been a very pretty woman, Blanche."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven's black eyes snapped; but they were at the dining-room -door, and she swept in as your tall, stately women in trailing silks do -sweep, bowing to the baronet, and taking her place, and, of course, the -subject of the interesting captive down in Long Island was postponed -indefinitely.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander dined and spent the evening at the Walraven palace, and -talked about his ward's second flight with her distressed guardian, and -opined she must have gone off to gratify some whim of her own, and -laughed in his sleeve at the two anxious faces before him, and departed -at ten, mellow with wine and full of hope for the future.</p> - -<p>Early next morning Dr. Oleander called round for Susan Sharpe, and found -that treasure of nurses ready and waiting. All through the long drive -she sat by his side in his light wagon, never opening her discreet lips -except to respond to his questions, and gazing straight ahead through -her green glasses into the world of futurity, for all her companion -knew.</p> - -<p>"Among your charge's hallucinations," said Dr. Oleander, just before -they arrived, "the chief is that she is not crazy at all. She will tell -you she has been brought here against her will; that I am a tyrant and -a villain, and the worst of men; and she will try and bribe you, I dare -say, to let her escape. Of course you will humor her at the time, but -pay not the least attention."</p> - -<p>"Of course," Mrs. Susan Sharpe answered.</p> - -<p>There was a pause, then the nurse asked the first question she had put:</p> - -<p>"What is my patient's name, sir?"</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander paused an instant, and mastered a sudden tremor. His voice -was quite steady when he replied:</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane. Her friends are eminently respectable, and have the utmost -confidence in me. I have every reason to hope that the quiet of this -place and the fresh sea air will eventually effect a cure."</p> - -<p>"I hope so, sir," Mrs. Susan Sharpe said; and the pink-rimmed eyes -glowed behind the green glasses, and into the tallow-candle complexion -crept just the faintest tinge of red.</p> - -<p>It was an inexpressibly lonely place, as Mrs. Sharpe saw it. A long -stretch of bleak, desolate, windy road, a desolate, salty marsh, ghostly -woods, and the wide, dreary sea. Over all, this afternoon, a sunless -sky, threatening rain, and a grim old pile of buildings fronting the sea -view.</p> - -<p>"A lonesome place," Mrs. Susan Sharpe said, as if in spite of -herself—"an awfully lonesome place!"</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander looked at her suspiciously as he drew up before the -frowning gate.</p> - -<p>"It is lonely," he said, carelessly. "I told you so, you remember; but, -from its very loneliness, all the better for my too excitable patient."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe's face seemed to say she thought it might be more conducive -to begetting melancholy madness than curing it, but her tongue said -nothing. Two big dogs, barking furiously, came tumbling round the angle -of the house. Dr. Oleander struck at them with his whip.</p> - -<p>"Down, Tiger! Silence, Nero, you overgrown brute!" he cried, with -an angry oath. "Come along, Mrs. Sharpe. There's no occasion to be -alarmed; they won't touch you."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe, despite this assurance, looking mortally afraid, kept close -to the doctor, and stood gazing around her while waiting to be admitted. -Bolts grated, the key creaked, and heavily and warily old Peter opened -the door and reconnoitered.</p> - -<p>"It is I, Peter, you old fool! Get out of the way, and don't keep us -waiting!"</p> - -<p>With which rough greeting the young man strode in, followed by the nurse.</p> - -<p>"He fetches a woman every time," murmured old Peter, plaintively, "and -we've got a great plenty now, Lord knows!"</p> - -<p>"This way, ma'am," called Dr. Oleander, striding straight, to the -kitchen; "we'll find a fire here, at least. It's worse than Greenland, -this frigid-zone!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander sat before the blazing fire, plucking a fowl; Sally stood -at the table, kneading dough. Both paused, with feminine exclamations, -at sight of the doctor, and turned directly, with feminine curiosity, to -stare at the woman.</p> - -<p>"How do, mother? How are you, Sally? Back again, you see, like the -proverbial bad shilling! This is Mrs. Susan Sharpe, the nurse I promised -to bring. How's our patient?"</p> - -<p>He turned anxiously to his mother. She took her eyes from Mrs. Sharpe to -answer.</p> - -<p>"I don't know; she frightens me, Guy."</p> - -<p>"Frightens you!" growing very pale. "How? Is she so violent?"</p> - -<p>"No; it's the other way. She's so still; she's like one dead in life. -She sits all day, and never moves nor speaks. She doesn't eat enough to -keep a bird alive, and she never sleeps, I believe; for, go into her -room night or day, there you find her sitting wide awake."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander looked white with dismay.</p> - -<p>"Does she never speak?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"She never spoke to me but once, and that was to ask me who I was. When -I told her I was your mother, she turned her back upon me, with the -remark, 'He says I'm mad, and surely none but a mad-woman would look -for mercy from a tiger's dam!' She has never spoken to me since."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander stood listening with a very gloomy face. Mrs. Sharpe, -sitting warming herself before the fire, looked straight at it, with -a blank, sallow face.</p> - -<p>"What do you find her doing mostly?" he asked, after awhile.</p> - -<p>"Sitting by the window, looking at the sea," answered his -mother—"always that—with a face the color of snow."</p> - -<p>The gloom on the young man's face deepened. What if he should prove -himself a prophet? What if this spirited, half-tamed thing should go -melancholy mad?</p> - -<p>"I will go to her at once!" he exclaimed, starting up. "If she goes into -a passion at sight of me, it will do her good. Anything is better than -this death in life."</p> - -<p>He held out his hand for the key of the room upstairs. His mother handed -it to him, and he strode out at once; and then Mrs. Oleander turned her -regards upon the new nurse.</p> - -<p>Strangers were "sight for sair een" in that ghostly, deserted -farmhouse. But the new nurse never looked at her; she sat with those -impenetrable green glasses fixed steadfastly on the blazing fire.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> - -<h3>MISTRESS SUSAN SHARPE.</h3> - - -<p>Dr. Oleander was by no means a coward, yet it is safe to say his heart -was bumping against his ribs, with a sensation that was near akin to -fear, as he ascended the stairs. He was really infatuatedly in love with -his fair-haired little enchantress, else he never had taken his late -desperate step to win her; and now, having her completely in his power, -it was rather hard to be threatened with her loss by melancholy madness.</p> - -<p>"What <i>shall</i> I do with her?" he asked himself, in a sort of -consternation. "I must keep her here until I get my affairs settled, and -that will be a week at the soonest. If we were safely <i>en route</i> for -Havana, I should cease to fear. How will she receive me, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>He tapped softly at the door. There was no response. The silence of the -grave reigned all through the lonely old house. He tapped again. Still -no answer. "Mollie!" he called. There was no reply. The next moment he -had inserted the key, turned it, and opened the prison door.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander paused on the threshold and took in the picture. He could -see the low-lying, sunless afternoon sky, all gray and cheerless; the -gray, complaining sea creeping up on the greasy shingle; the desolate -expanse of road; the tongue of marshland; the strip of black pine -woods—all that could be seen from the window. The prison-room looked -drear and bleak; the fire on the hearth was smoldering away to black -ashes; the untasted meal stood on the table. Seated by the window, in a -drooping, spiritless way, as if never caring to stir again, sat bright -Mollie, the ghost of her former self. Wan as a spirit, thin as a shadow, -the sparkle gone from her blue eyes, the golden glimmer from the yellow -hair, she sat there with folded hands and weary, hopeless eyes that -never left the desolate sea. Not imprisonment, not the desolation of the -prospect, not the loneliness, not the fasting had wrought the change, -but the knowledge that she was this man's wife.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander had ample time to stand there and view the scene. She never -stirred. If she heard the door open, she made no more sign than if she -were stone deaf.</p> - -<p>"Mollie!" he called, advancing a step.</p> - -<p>At the sound of that hated voice she gave a violent start, a faint, -startled cry, and, turning for the first time, eyed him like a wild -animal at bay.</p> - -<p>"Mollie, my poor little girl," he said in a voice of real pity, "you are -gone to a shadow! I never thought a few days' confinement could work -such a change."</p> - -<p>She never spoke; she sat breathing hard and audibly, and eying him with -wild, wide eyes.</p> - -<p>"You mustn't give way like this, Mollie; you mustn't really, you know. -It will not be for long. I mean to take you away from here. Very soon we -will go to Cuba, and then my whole life will be devoted to you. No slave -will serve his mistress as I will you."</p> - -<p>He drew nearer as he spoke. Quick as lightning her hand sought her -breast, and the blue gleam of the dagger dazzled his eyes.</p> - -<p>"One step nearer," she hissed, between set, glistening teeth, "and I'll -bury it in your heart or my own!"</p> - -<p>She raised it with a gesture grand and terrible, and rising slowly from -her seat, confronted him like a little tigress.</p> - -<p>"Mollie," he said, imploringly, "listen to me—your husband!"</p> - -<p>Her white teeth locked together with a clinching noise; she stood there -like a pale little fury.</p> - -<p>"Have you no pity for such love as mine, Mollie? Is your heart made of -stone, that all my devotion can not melt it?"</p> - -<p>To his horror, she broke into a discordant, mirthless laugh.</p> - -<p>"His devotion! He tears me away from my friends, he locks me up in a -dungeon until he drives me mad! His devotion!"</p> - -<p>She laughed hysterically again.</p> - -<p>"It seems harsh, Mollie, but it is not meant in harshness. If there were -any other way of winning you, you know I would never resort to such -extreme measures. I am not the only man that has carried off the woman -he loved, when other means failed to win her."</p> - -<p>Again he came nearer, holding out his hands with an imploring gesture.</p> - -<p>"Only say that you will try and love me—only say that you will be my -wife—promise me on your word of honor, and I will take you back to New -York this day!"</p> - -<p>But Mollie's answer was to raise her formidable knife.</p> - -<p>"One step more," she said, glaring upon him with suppressed fury—"one -step nearer, if you dare!"</p> - -<p>He saw in her face it was no idle threat, and he recoiled.</p> - -<p>"Stay here, then," he angrily cried, "since you will have it so! It is -your own fault, and you must abide the consequences. Mine you shall be, -by fair means or foul! I leave you now, since my presence does no good, -but by this day week you will be sailing with me to sunny Cuba. There I -can have things my own way, and your high-tragedy airs will avail you -little."</p> - -<p>He walked to the door, turned, paused. She stood like a statue, white as -marble, but with, oh! such fiercely burning eyes!</p> - -<p>"I have brought you an attendant," he said, sullenly. "I will send her -up for those things," pointing to the untasted dinner; "she will wait -upon you during the brief time you are to remain here."</p> - -<p>She never moved. She stood there white and defiant and panting, her -glittering eyes riveted to his face. With a sullen oath he opened the -door and walked out, baffled once more.</p> - -<p>"Curse the little vixen!" he muttered, as he stalked down-stairs; "she's -made of the stuff that breaks but never bends. I believe in my soul if I -was to carry her off to sea to-morrow she would leap overboard and end -it all the day after. I wish I had never listened to Blanche's tempting. -I wish I had left the little termagant in peace. The game isn't worth -the candle."</p> - -<p>He found Mrs. Susan Sharpe sitting where he had left her, with her -imperturbable face still turned to the fire, her bonnet and shawl still -on.</p> - -<p>"Take off those things!" he ordered, harshly, pointing to the offending -garments—it was a relief to vent his spleen on some one. "Why the deuce -don't you take her to her room?" turning savagely upon Sally. "Let her -have the chamber next my patient, and then go into her room and fetch -away the tray, and see what you can do for her."</p> - -<p>He flung himself into a chair. Mrs. Sharpe rose with an immovable face.</p> - -<p>"Lor'!" said old Sally, "don't snap our heads off, Master Guy! I can't -help that young woman's tantrums upstairs; so, if she puts you out of -temper, you needn't come howling at me. This way, ma'am."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe, with a stolid countenance, followed Sally upstairs. The old -woman, grumbling angrily all the way, led her into a small, draughty -apartment adjoining that of her charge.</p> - -<p>"There!" said Sally, snappishly: "this here is your room, and the crazy -young woman's is next. Take off your things, and then come down-stairs -and see what he wants next, and don't have him biting at us as if we was -dogs!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe obeyed orders to the letter. In five minutes she was back in -the kitchen, ready for action. The carroty locks were partly covered -with a black, uncouth cap, and a large stuff apron protected her dingy -bombazine dress. She turned a questioning face upon her employer, but -spoke never a word.</p> - -<p>"This is the key of your patient's room," he said, handing it to her; -"you will go up and introduce yourself, and do whatever is needful. I am -going back to town to-night. Don't let me have any fault to find with -you when I return."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe took the key and turned to go.</p> - -<p>"I know my duty, sir," she said, as she walked out. "I know what I came -to do, and I'll do it."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander turned to his mother and old Sally when the nurse had gone.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of her, mother?"</p> - -<p>"I don't like her," Mrs. Oleander answered, promptly. "I wouldn't trust -a person with hair like that as far as I could see them!"</p> - -<p>"Pooh, pooh! what's her hair got to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Mrs. Oleander, nodding sagaciously. "It's nothing to -me; but a red-haired person is never to be trusted."</p> - -<p>"Then watch her," said the doctor. "I trust you and Sally to do that. I -know nothing about her; but don't you let her play me false. It is of -the greatest importance to me that the insane girl upstairs does not -escape—and escape she will if she can. She will try to bribe the -nurse—do you watch the nurse. It will only be for a week at furthest."</p> - -<p>"I am glad to hear it," said his mother, spitefully. "I don't like my -house full of mad-women and mad-women's nurses, and I don't like -playing the spy!"</p> - -<p>"It will only be for a week," the doctor repeated. "I will never trouble -you in this way again. And now I must be off at once. I want to sleep in -New York to-night."</p> - -<p>Without further parley Dr. Oleander stalked out of the kitchen and out -of the house. Five minutes more, and they heard the sharp rattle of his -wheels on the gravel. Then old Peter bolted and locked and put up the -chains, and made the lonely farmhouse as much like a jail as bolts and -bars could render it. Their situation was so isolated, and they -themselves so helpless, that, although there was but little to fear, -these precautionary measures were natural enough.</p> - -<p>Meantime, the new nurse had ascended the stairs and unlocked her -captive's door. She rapped respectfully before entering; but, as usual, -Mollie deigned no notice, and after waiting an instant, she turned the -handle and went in.</p> - -<p>Mollie had resumed her seat by the window, and, with her chin resting on -her hand, was gazing with gloomy eyes at the evening mists rising over -the bleak gray sea.</p> - -<p>Much weeping had dulled the luster of those sparkling eyes and paled the -bright bloom of the once rounded cheeks.</p> - -<p>The Christmas snows were not whiter nor colder than the girl who sat -there and stared in blank despair at the wide sea.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, miss," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe, halting in the -door-way; "I want to come in."</p> - -<p>At the sound of the strange voice, the prisoner wheeled suddenly around -and confronted her.</p> - -<p>"Come in, then," she said: and Mrs. Sharpe came slowly in and closed the -door. "Who are you?" Mollie asked, transfixing her with her steadfast -gaze. "I never saw you before."</p> - -<p>"No, miss; I only came from New York to-day."</p> - -<p>"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"I'm Susan Sharpe."</p> - -<p>"And what are you doing here?"</p> - -<p>"I'm to be your nurse, miss. Doctor Oleander hired me and brought me -down."</p> - -<p>"Doctor Oleander is a villain, and you are, I suspect, his tool."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry you think so, miss," Mrs. Susan Sharpe said, composedly. "Is -there anything I can do for you?"</p> - -<p>But Mollie did not reply. She was staring at her new attendant with all -her might.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" she said, breathlessly. "Surely someone I know."</p> - -<p>The woman smiled.</p> - -<p>"No one you know, miss—unless you have the advantage of me. I don't -suppose you ever heard my name before."</p> - -<p>"I don't suppose I have," retorted Miss Dane; "but I have certainly -heard your voice."</p> - -<p>"No! Have you, now? Where, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>Mollie gazed at her wistfully, scrutinizingly. Surely that face, that -voice, were familiar; and yet, as soon as she strove to place them, all -became confusion. She turned away with a sigh.</p> - -<p>"It's of no use. I suppose you're in league with the rest. I think the -people in this house have hearts harder than stone."</p> - -<p>"I'm very sorry for you, miss, if that's what you mean," said Mrs. Susan -Sharpe, respectfully. "Yours is a very sad affliction, indeed."</p> - -<p>"A very sad affliction! Do you mean being imprisoned here?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, no, miss!" looking embarrassed. "I mean—I'm sure, I beg your -pardon, miss—I mean—"</p> - -<p>"You mean you pretend to believe Doctor Oleander's romance," interrupted -Mollie, contemptuously. "You mean I am crazy!"</p> - -<p>"Don't be angry, miss," said Mrs. Sharpe, deprecatingly. "I wouldn't -give offense for the world."</p> - -<p>"Look at me," said Mollie, impetuously—"look me in the face, Susan -Sharpe, and tell me if I look like one insane!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe turned the mild light of the green glasses on the pale, -excited young face.</p> - -<p>"No, miss, I can't say you do; but it isn't for me to judge. I'm a poor -woman, trying to turn an honest penny—"</p> - -<p>"By helping the greatest scoundrel that ever escaped the gallows to keep -prisoner an unoffending girl! Is that how you try to turn an honest -penny, Susan Sharpe?"</p> - -<p>Susan Sharpe, shrinking, as well as she might, from the fiery flashing -of two angry blue eyes, murmured an inaudible something, and busied -herself among the dishes.</p> - -<p>"Listen to me, woman," cried Mollie, pushing back her wild, loose hair, -"and pity me, if you have a woman's heart. This man—this Doctor -Oleander—led me into a trap, inveigled me from home, brought me here, -and keeps me here a prisoner. To further his own base ends he gives out -that I am insane. My friends are in the greatest distress about me, and -I am almost frantic by being kept here. Help me to escape—my friends in -Now York are rich and powerful—help me, Susan Sharpe, and you will -never know want more!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Susan Sharpe had keen ears. Even in the midst of this excited -address she had heard a stealthy footstep on the creaking stairs—a -footstep that had paused just outside the door. She took her cue, and -made no sign.</p> - -<p>"I'm very sorry, miss," slightly raising her voice—"very sorry for you, -indeed. What you say may be all very true, but it makes no difference to -me. My duty's plain enough. I'm paid for it, I've promised to do it, and -I'll do it."</p> - -<p>"And that is—"</p> - -<p>"To wait upon you. I'll be your faithful attendant while I'm here; but -to help you to escape I can't. Doctor Oleander tells me you're insane; -you tell me yourself you're not insane. I suppose you ought to know -best; but I've been in lunatic asylums before now, and I never yet knew -one of 'em to admit there was anything the matter with 'em."</p> - -<p>And with this cruel speech, Mrs. Susan Sharpe, keeping her eyes anywhere -but upon the young lady's face, lifted the tray and turned to go.</p> - -<p>"Is there anything I can do for you, miss?" she said, pausing at the -door. "Is there anything nice you would like for supper?"</p> - -<p>But Mollie did not reply. Utterly broken down by fasting, and -imprisonment, and solitude, she had flung herself passionately on -the floor, and burst out into a wild storm of hysterical weeping.</p> - -<p>"I'm very sorry for you, Miss Dane," the nurse said for the benefit of -the eavesdropper without; "but my duty's my duty, and I must do it. I'll -fetch you up your supper presently—a cup of tea will cure the -'stericks."</p> - -<p>She opened the door. Mrs. Oleander, at the head of the staircase, was -making a great show of having just come up.</p> - -<p>"They'll be the death of me yet—those stairs!" she panted. "I often -tell my son I'm not fitted to mount up and down a dozen times a day, now -in my old age; but, la! what do young men care?"</p> - -<p>"Very true, ma'am," replied the imperturbable nurse to this somewhat -obscure speech.</p> - -<p>"And how's your patient?" continued the old lady.</p> - -<p>"Very bad, ma'am—'stericky and wild-like. I left her crying, poor soul!"</p> - -<p>"Crying! For what?"</p> - -<p>"Because I wouldn't help her to escape, poor dear!" said Mrs. Sharpe in -a tone of commiseration. "She's greatly to be pitied."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Mrs. Oleander, carelessly; "you couldn't help her, you know, -even if you would. There's Peter, and Sally, and me on the watch all day -long, and from nightfall we let loose Tiger and Nero. They'd tear you -both to pieces in five minutes. Tell her so, poor creature, if she talks -any more of escape."</p> - -<p>"I will, ma'am," responded the respectful Mrs. Sharpe.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander ascended the stairs and went to her own room, very well -satisfied with the submissive and discreet new nurse; and the new nurse -descended to the kitchen, and prepared her patient's supper of tea and -toast, delicate sliced ham, and raspberry preserves.</p> - -<p>The dusk of the sunless afternoon was falling out-of-doors ere her -preparations were completed, and the stair-ways and halls of the dreary -house were in deepest gloom as she returned to her patient's room.</p> - -<p>She found that unhappy little patient lying prone on her face on the -floor, as still, as motionless as if death had hushed forever that -impulsive heart. She made no sign of having heard when Mrs. Sharpe -entered—she never moved nor looked up until the nurse set the tray -on the table, and stooping over her, gave her a gentle shake.</p> - -<p>"Miss Dane," she said in her stolid tones, "please to get up. Here's -your supper."</p> - -<p>And Mollie, with a low, wailing cry, raised her wan face and fixed her -blue eyes on the woman's face with a look of passionate reproach.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you let me alone? Why don't you leave me to die? Oh, if I had -but the courage to die by my own hand!"</p> - -<p>"Please to take your supper," was Mrs. Sharpe's practical answer to this -insane outburst. "Don't be foolish."</p> - -<p>She lifted Mollie bodily up, led her over, seated her in her chair, -poured her out a cup of tea, and made her drink it, before that -half-distracted creature knew what she was about.</p> - -<p>"Now take another," said sensible Mrs. Sharpe; "tea will do you a power -of good; and eat something; there's nothing like good, wholesome -victuals for curing people of notions."</p> - -<p>Wearied out in body and mind, Mollie let herself be catered for in -submissive silence. She took to her new nurse as she had never taken -to any one else in this horrid house. She had a kindly face, had Mrs. -Susan Sharpe.</p> - -<p>"You feel better now, don't you?" said that worthy woman, the meal -completed. "Suppose you go to bed? You look tired. Let me undress you -and tuck you in."</p> - -<p>And again willful Mollie submitted, and dropped asleep as soon as her -head was fairly on the pillow. Motherly Mrs. Sharpe "tucked her in" and -kissed her, and then, with the remains of the supper, went down-stairs -to partake of her own evening repast.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander took tea with her servants, and was very gossipy indeed. -So, too, was old Sully; so, likewise, was old Peter. The beverage that -exhilarates seemed to lighten their aged hearts wonderfully; but Mrs. -Susan Sharpe did not thaw out under the potent spell of the best English -breakfast tea. Silent and attentive, she ate, and drank, and listened, -and responded when directly addressed; and, when it was over, helped -Sally to clear up, and then pounced upon a basket of undarned hose under -the table, and worked away with a will. Her energy and good-will, and -the admirable manner in which she filled up the holes in the stockings -with wondrous crisscross work, quite won the hearts of both Sally and -Sally's mistress.</p> - -<p>The clock struck nine; work was laid aside; Mrs. Oleander read a chapter -aloud out of the Bible, and they then all adjourned to their respective -chambers. Doors and windows had been secured at nightfall, Tiger and -Nero liberated—their hoarse, deep growls every now and then making -night hideous.</p> - -<p>Up in her own apartment, Mrs. Susan Sharpe's first act was to pull up -the curtain and seat herself by the window. The night was pitch -dark—moonless, starless—with a sighing wind and a dully moaning sea. -It was the desolation of utter desolation, down in that dismal sea-side -prison—the two huge dogs below the only living things to be heard.</p> - -<p>"It's enough to drive any one mad, this horrible place," said Mrs. Susan -Sharpe, to herself; "and the very weather seems in the conspiracy -against us."</p> - -<p>She took her lamp as she spoke, and held it close to the window, with an -anxious, listening face. Its solitary red ray streamed far out over the -black road.</p> - -<p>Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, then a sound rent the night -silence—a long, shrill, sharp whistle.</p> - -<p>"Thank the Lord!" said Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "I thought he wouldn't fail."</p> - -<p>She dropped the curtain, set the light on the table, knelt down and said -her prayers, rose up and undressed herself; and then this extraordinary -female went to bed and to sleep.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> - -<h3>HUGH INGELOW KEEPS HIS PROMISE.</h3> - - -<p>Mrs. Susan Sharpe was up with the lark, or, rather, with the sea-gulls -whirling and shrieking out on the tossing waters. The early morning sun -streamed in the little chamber; the wind wailed plaintively still, and -the dull tramp, tramp of the multitudinous waves kept up their ceaseless -refrain.</p> - -<p>All was yet still in the lone farmhouse—no living thing was stirring, -not even the rats, that had held high carnival all night. Down in the -back yard and front garden, Tiger and Nero prowled about their beat, -surlily growling at the tossing trees, and were monarchs of all they -surveyed.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe was not an imaginative person, luckily. She got up and made -her toilet, and splashed herself briskly in a basin of cold water. The -effect of these ablutions was singular—they effected a total cure of -her inflamed eyelids.</p> - -<p>More singular still, a wig of red hair stood on the dressing-table, and -Mrs. Sharpe's cranium was adorned with a respectable growth of dark, -glossy, brown hair.</p> - -<p>"If they only saw me now," said Mrs. Sharpe to herself, with a chuckle, -"I rather think they'd open their old eyes!"</p> - -<p>She went to work artistically—reddened her eyelids over again, -carefully adjusted her wig, set her cap on it, fixed her spectacles on -her nose, and surveyed herself complacently in the cracked -chimney-glass.</p> - -<p>"You'll do," said Mrs. Sharpe, nodding familiarly to her image: "You're -as ugly as if somebody had bespoke you. I only wonder how that little -unfortunate can take to such a looking object—and she does take to me, -poor dear! And now I'll write to him. He's sure to be along in the -course of the morning."</p> - -<p>Taking from her capacious pocket a blank-book and a lead-pencil, Mrs. -Susan Sharpe sat down and wrote.</p> - -<p>And this is what Mrs. Sharpe wrote:</p> - -<p>"She's here, and safe and well, and don't know me no more than the dead. -But I can't get her out. Two old women and one old man are on the watch -all day long. I daren't sneeze but they know it. And before they go off -the watch there's two big, savage dogs goes on, and prowl about all -night. I don't know what to do; tell me. She's awful down-hearted, and -cries and goes on. I heard your whistle last night. Her room is next to -mine—the windows to the left. If you walk on the beach she'll see you; -she sits at the window all day. Doctor O. is going to Cuba in a week, -and going to take her with him; so you had better be quick."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe read her own composition over two or three times, with a -satisfied look.</p> - -<p>"I think that will do," she murmured. "Trust him to find a way out of a -fix, and we're in a fix now, if there ever was one. Drat the dogs! If it -wasn't for them I could get on myself."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe was not a rapid scribe. It had taken her a considerable -while to write this, and the household was astir. She folded it up in -the smallest possible dimensions, and wedged it into her thimble.</p> - -<p>"A brass thimble makes a good, strong envelope," said the nurse, with a -grim smile. "And now to begin my day's work."</p> - -<p>She quitted her own apartment and went into that of her charge. Mollie -was still asleep—sleeping like a babe, with lips apart, and cheeks -softly flushed, and loose, golden hair falling in burnished masses over -the pillow. Involuntarily Mrs. Sharpe paused.</p> - -<p>"She looks like a picture," she thought. "No wonder he's crazy in love."</p> - -<p>The sound of the opening door awoke the light sleeper. She rose up on -her elbow and stared around. The nurse advanced with a propitiatory -smile.</p> - -<p>"Good-morning, miss," she said, cheerfully. "I hope you had a nice -sleep."</p> - -<p>"Oh, is it you?" said Mollie. "I was dreaming I was back home with -guardy, and Sir Roger, and poor Hugh, and here I am still. Oh!" in a -voice of bitter anguish, "why did you awake me?"</p> - -<p>"My poor dear," said the nurse, touched, "I didn't know, you know, or I -wouldn't. There! don't think about it now, but get up, like a good girl, -and wash and dress yourself, and have your breakfast comfortable. Things -won't be always like this, you know."</p> - -<p>Mollie looked wistfully at her, but Mrs. Sharpe wasn't going to commit -herself, with no certainty but that listening ears were at the door.</p> - -<p>She assisted the poor prisoner with her toilet, combed out and curled -the beautiful, abundant hair, and made her as pretty as a picture.</p> - -<p>"She's lost her rosy cheeks, and is failed away to nothing," mused the -nurse. "Only for that, she'd be the loveliest thing the sun shines on."</p> - -<p>"And now you're fixed, my pretty dear," said Mrs. Sharpe, "I'll go down -and get your breakfast. Nobody ever feels right in the morning on an -empty stomach."</p> - -<p>Down in the kitchen, Mrs. Sharpe found things in a lively state of -preparation—coffee boiling, steak broiling, toast making, and muffins -baking. Old Sally, in a state threatening spontaneous combustion, bent -over the fire, and Mrs. Oleander, in her rocking-chair, superintended.</p> - -<p>"Are you only getting up now?" asked the doctor's mother, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"Been up these two hours, ma'am," responded Mrs. Sharpe. "I tidied up -myself and my room, and then tidied up Miss Dane and her'n. I came down -to fetch up her breakfast."</p> - -<p>"It's all ready," said Sally. "Fetch along your tray."</p> - -<p>So Susan Sharpe fetched along her tray, and received a bountiful supply -of coffee and toast, and steak and muffins.</p> - -<p>"There's nothing like plenty of good victuals for curing the vapors," -observed Sally, sagely. "You make the young woman eat this, Mrs. Sharpe, -and she'll feel better, you'll see."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe smiled, as she bore off her burden, at the idea Sally must -have of one little girl's appetite.</p> - -<p>She found Mollie sitting at the window gazing at the sea, sparkling as -if sown with stars, in the morning sunshine.</p> - -<p>"Is it not beautiful?" she said, turning to the nurse. "Oh, if I were -only free once more—free to have a plunge in that snow-white surf—free -to have a breezy run along that delightful beach this magnificent -morning?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe set down her tray, looked cautiously around her, lowered her -voice, fixed her green-spectacled eyes meaningly on Mollie's face, and -uttered these remarkable words:</p> - -<p>"Wait! You may be free before long!"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" cried Mollie, starting violently.</p> - -<p>"Hush! 'Sh! 'sh!" laying her hand over the girl's mouth. "Not a word. -Walls have ears, in prisons. Take your breakfast, miss," raising her -voice. "It will do you no good, acting ugly and not eating."</p> - -<p>For the stairs had creaked under a cautious, ascending footstep, and -Mrs. Sharpe had heard that creak.</p> - -<p>So, too, had Mollie this time; and she turned her shining eyes in -eloquent silence to Mrs. Sharpe, and Mrs. Sharpe had nodded, and smiled, -and grimaced toward the door in a way that spoke volumes.</p> - -<p>"I'm going down to get my breakfast, now," she said, authoritatively. -"Let me see what you'll have done by the time I get back."</p> - -<p>The stairs were creaking again. Mrs. Sharpe did not hurry too much, and -Mrs. Oleander, all panting, was back in her rocker when she re-entered -the kitchen, trying very hard to look as though she had never left it.</p> - -<p>"And how's your patient to-day, Mrs. Sharpe?" she asked, as soon as she -could properly get her wind.</p> - -<p>"Much the same," said Mrs. Sharpe, with brevity; "wants to starve -herself to death, crying in spells, and making a time. Let me help you."</p> - -<p>This to Sally, who was scrambling to get half a dozen things at once on -the table. Mrs. Sharpe came to the rescue with a practiced hand, and -upon the entrance of old Peter, who had been out chaining up the dogs, -the quartet immediately sat down to breakfast.</p> - -<p>After breakfast, the new nurse again made herself generally useful in -the kitchen, helped Sally, who was inclined to give out at the knees, to -"red up," washed dishes and swept the floor with a brisk celerity worthy -of all praise.</p> - -<p>And then, it being wash-day, she whipped up her sleeves, displaying two -lusty, round arms, and fell to with a will among the soiled linens and -steaming soap-suds.</p> - -<p>"I may as well do something," she said, brusquely, in answer to Mrs. -Oleander's very faint objections; "there's nothing to do upstairs, and -she doesn't want me. She only calls me names."</p> - -<p>So Mrs. Susan Sharpe rubbed, and wrung, and soaped, and pounded, and -boiled, and blued for three mortal hours, and then there was a huge -basket of clothes all ready to go on the line.</p> - -<p>"Now, ma'am," said this priceless treasure, "if you'll just show me the -clothes-line, I'll hang these here out."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander pointed to two long ropes strung at the lower end of the -back yard, and Susan Sharpe, hoisting the basket, set off at once to -hang them to dry.</p> - -<p>The two old women watched her from the window with admiring eyes.</p> - -<p>"She's a noble worker!" at last said old Sally. "She 'minds me of the -time when I was a young girl myself. Dearie me! It went to my heart to -see her rubbing them sheets and things as if they were nothing."</p> - -<p>"And I think she's to be trusted, too," said Mrs. Oleander. "She talks -as sharp to that girl as you or I, Sally. I shouldn't mind if we had her -here for good."</p> - -<p>Meantime, the object of all this commendation had marched across the -yard, and proceeded scientifically to hang the garments on the line. But -all the while the keen eyes inside the green spectacles went roving -about, and alighted presently on something that rewarded her for her -hard day's work.</p> - -<p>It was a man emerging from the pine woods, and crossing the waste strip -of marshland that extended to the farm.</p> - -<p>A high board fence separated the back yard from this waste land, and but -few ever came that way.</p> - -<p>The man wore the dress and had the pack of a peddler, and a quantity of -tow hair escaped from under a broad-brimmed hat. The brown face was half -hidden in an enormous growth of light whiskers.</p> - -<p>"Can it be?" thought Susan, with a throbbing heart. "I darsn't speak, -for them two old witches are watching from the window."</p> - -<p>Here the peddler espied her, and trolled out, in a rich, manly voice:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"My father he has locked the door,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My mother keeps the key:</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But neither bolts nor bars shall part</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My own true love and me."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>"It is him!" gasped Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "Oh, good gracious!"</p> - -<p>"Good-day to you, my strapping, lass. How do you find yourself this -blessed morning?"</p> - -<p>Susan Sharpe knew there were listening ears and looking eyes in the -kitchen, and for their benefit she retorted:</p> - -<p>"It's no business of yours how I am! Be off with you! We don't allow no -vagrants here!"</p> - -<p>"But I ain't a vagrant, my duck o' diamonds. I'm a respectable Yankee -peddler, trying to turn an honest penny by selling knickknacks to the -fair sect. Do let me in, there's a pretty dear! You hain't no idee of -the lovely things I've got in my pack—all dirt cheap, too!"</p> - -<p>"I don't want nothing," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe.</p> - -<p>"But your ma does, my love, or your elder sister, which I see 'em at the -winder this minute. Now do go, there's a lamb, and ask your ma if I -mayn't come in."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe dropped her basket in a pet and stalked back to the house.</p> - -<p>"It's a peddler-man," she said, crossly, "a-wanting to come in. I told -him he couldn't, and it's of no use; and the best thing you can do is to -set the dogs on him."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" cried Mrs. Oleander, shrilly. "Let him come in. I like -peddlers. Go with her, Sally, and tell the man to come round to the -garden gate."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell him," said Susan Sharpe, stalking out again. "Let Sally go -and open the gate."</p> - -<p>She marched across the yard and addressed the "perambulating merchant."</p> - -<p>"You're to go round to the front gate. This way. I've a note for you in -my thimble. I'll drop the thimble in your box."</p> - -<p>The first half of Mrs. Sharpe's speech was given for the benefit of Mrs. -Oleander's greedy ears—the latter half, hurriedly and in a low voice, -for his own.</p> - -<p>The sagacious peddler nodded, struck up a second stave of his ditty, and -trudged round to the front gate.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe finished hanging out the clothes before she re-entered the -kitchen. When she did, there sat the peddler displaying his wares, and -expatiating volubly on their transcendent merits. And there stood Sally -and Mrs. Oleander, devouring the contents of the box with greedy eyes.</p> - -<p>It is not in the heart of women—country women, particularly—to resist -the fascinations of the peddler's pack.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander and her old servant were rather of the strong-minded -order; but their eyes glistened avariciously, for all that, at the -display of combs, and brushes, and handkerchiefs, and ribbons, and gaudy -prints, and stockings, and cotton cloth, and all the innumerables that -peddlers do delight in.</p> - -<p>"This red-and-black silk handkerchief, ma'am," the peddler was crying, -holding up a gay square of silk tartan, "is one fifty, and dirt cheap at -that. Seein' it's you, ma'am, however, I'll take a dollar for it. Wuth -two—it is, by ginger! Sold three dozens on 'em down the village, and -got two dollars apiece for 'em, every one."</p> - -<p>"I'll take it at a dollar," said Mrs. Oleander. "Sally, that piece of -brown merino would just suit you."</p> - -<p>"Makes up lovely, ma'am," said the peddler, turning to Sally; "only four -dollars for the hull piece. Jest feel of it—soft as a baby's skin. -Halloo! miss, what can I do for you?"</p> - -<p>This last to Susan Sharpe, who had set down her basket, and was looking -on.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," replied Susan, with asperity.</p> - -<p>"Oh, now, don't you say that!" exclaimed this persuasive man; "you do -want suthin'—lots o' things—I kin see it in them air sparklin' eyes o' -your'n. What makes you wear green glasses. See here, I've blue, and -white, and fancy colors, with silver straddles for the nose. Do look at -'em—there's a love!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander laughed, and Mrs. Sharpe so far unbent her austerity as to -kneel down and begin rummaging the miscellaneous articles.</p> - -<p>The peddler's quick eye never left her hands; and when he heard the tiny -click of something falling, an intelligent flash shot from him to the -obnoxious green glasses.</p> - -<p>"I want a thimble," said Mrs. Sharpe, with phlegm. "I've lost mine. How -much do you ask for these here, mister?"</p> - -<p>"Three cents apiece."</p> - -<p>Susan paid down the three cents, pocketed the brass thimble, and slowly -rose.</p> - -<p>"No more to sell to-day," said the peddler, bundling up with celerity. -"So you won't take the brown, ma'am? Sorry we can't make a trade; but -I'll run up again to-morrow with a new lot, and I've no doubt we can -strike a bargain. Good-morning, ladies."</p> - -<p>With which Mr. Peddler shouldered his pack and trudged away, singing. -Old Peter let him out, and locked the gate after, and watched him out -of sight. The peddler ceased his song the moment he was out of hearing, -struck into the woods the instant he was out of sight, and flinging his -pack on the grass, tore it open.</p> - -<p>He had not long to search—Mrs. Sharpe's tarnished old thimble was -conspicuous enough among his glistening new ones. He fished it up, poked -out the crumpled bit of paper, and slowly read it through. When read, he -tore it into fifty morsels, and scattered them in a white shower all -about. Then, with knitted brows and compressed lips, he sat and thought -and thought for a full hour.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, matters went on smoothly behind him. Mrs. Sharpe, having -finished the washing, and quite won the hearts of the two old women by -her workmanlike manner, prepared her patient's dinner, and brought it -up.</p> - -<p>On this occasion Mrs. Oleander undertook to accompany her. They found -that refractory patient at her usual post—the window—gazing with -dreamy, empty eyes over the ceaseless sea.</p> - -<p>Susan Sharpe was strictly on her guard; her austere face never unbent, -and Mollie took her cue once more.</p> - -<p>"Here's your dinner miss," she said, briefly; "is there anything I can -do for you?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," replied Mollie, sullenly. "Only leave me alone. I never want -to see either of your ugly old faces."</p> - -<p>She turned her back upon them as she spoke, and never turned round until -they had quitted the room.</p> - -<p>"She's a little imp, if there ever was a little imp yet," said Mrs. -Oleander, spitefully. "Does she always treat you like that?"</p> - -<p>"Worse, mostly," said the imperturbable Susan; "but, la! I don't mind; -I'm used to 'em."</p> - -<p>"Do you think she'll ever get better?"</p> - -<p>"I think it's very likely, ma'am," responded Mrs. Sharpe. "Your cross -ones are always the likeliest. But, of course, I can't say."</p> - -<p>All that long afternoon Mollie was left quite alone. Mrs. Sharpe never -came near her. This indifference on the part of the nurse quite disarmed -Mrs. Oleander's suspicions. If she had any wish to carry favor with her -son's patient, or help her to escape, surely she would not sit there in -the kitchen, hemming her new silk handkerchief, all the while. That was -what Susan did, however, and the weary, weary hours of the warm, sunny -day wore blankly on the poor, lone Mollie.</p> - -<p>The horrible stillness of the place seemed driving her mad. The endless -monotony of the waves rolling up on the beach was growing unendurable. -The wild waste of sparkling-waters, ending in the low horizon line, -wearied her eyes like the sands of the desert.</p> - -<p>"I shall lose all the little reason I ever had if I am kept in this -howling desolation much longer," she said, pressing her hands to her -throbbing temples. "Oh! to shut out this mocking sunshine—to lose sight -of this dreary waste, where no living thing comes! Oh, to get away from -that horrible sea! If I could only die and end it all! But I live on, -and live on where others would be happier and find death."</p> - -<p>She sighed wearily, and looked across at the radiant western sky, -gorgeous with the coming sunset.</p> - -<p>"What did that woman mean? Did she mean anything? Yes, I am sure she -did, and she has come here to help me to escape. Oh, Heaven have pity, -and grant me freedom once more!"</p> - -<p>She clasped her hands and sat there like one out of herself, while the -moments wore on. Purple and gold made the western sky luminous with -glory, and when the gorgeous flames were at their brightest, and the sea -turning to a lake of blood-red fire, a little white boat, with a blue -pennant flying, shot out of the red light and drifted close to the -shore.</p> - -<p>Mollie fixed her eyes on this tiny skiff—why, she could not have told. -Boats passed and repassed often enough, but seldom so close to the -shore. The beauty of the little bark attracted her, nestling as it did -like a white dove on the water, and that fairy azure banner flying.</p> - -<p>A solitary figure sat in the boat, his face turned her way; but the -distance was too great for her to distinguish that face. A word in white -letters she could see on the blue flag; but again the distance was too -great for her to distinguish. She sat and watched and watched, until the -opening of the door startled her. She turned round and saw Susan -Sharpe—this time alone.</p> - -<p>"Look there!" said Mollie, obeying a sudden impulse; "did you ever see -anything so pretty?"</p> - -<p>The nurse looked—bent her brows and looked again. Her face flushed—she -caught her breath.</p> - -<p>"Who is the man?" she asked, hurriedly, lowly.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," in the same breathless way. "He is watching here—but -the distance is so great. Oh, nurse—"</p> - -<p>She did not finish the sentence, but with hands clasped and lips parted, -stood looking imploringly in the woman's face.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe; "there is no one on the watch -this time, thank the Lord! Mrs. Oleander's down with the toothache."</p> - -<p>She left the room—was absent in her own two or three minutes—then -returned with a pocket telescope in her hand.</p> - -<p>"Try this," she said, quietly; "it's small, but it's powerful."</p> - -<p>She put it in the girl's hand. Mollie turned eagerly to the window—the -boat and the man were near enough now. The word on the blue flag was -Hope; the face of the man was still toward her, true as the needle to -the north star. With the first look she recognized it. A low cry of -amaze, and she dropped the glass, and stood all trembling with the -sudden joyful shock.</p> - -<p>For it was the face she had sighed for, day-time and night time—it was -the man she loved. It was Hugh Ingelow.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> - -<h3>MRS. SHARPE DOES HER DUTY.</h3> - - -<p>"You know that man, miss?" Mrs. Sharpe said, ineffably calm, stooping -to pick up the glass.</p> - -<p>Mollie turned to her with eyes wild and wide.</p> - -<p>"I know him—yes. And you—Oh, for pity's sake, say you know him, too!"</p> - -<p>"How on earth can I say so until I've seen him?" said Mrs. Sharpe, -poising her glass and clapping her eye to it, one hand over the other, -after the fashion of the sex.</p> - -<p>She took a long look.</p> - -<p>"Well?" Mollie panted.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Susan Sharpe turned to her with a singular smile—a smile that made -luminous the sallow face and glorified the green spectacles.</p> - -<p>Just then the stairs creaked under a cautious, ascending tread.</p> - -<p>"It's Sally," said Mrs. Sharpe, not moving a muscle. "Eat your supper, -and keep your eyes off the window if she comes in. Keep up heart, and -think of the word on the blue banner—hope."</p> - -<p>She turned away and abruptly opened the door as she spoke. There stood -old Sally, with the eyes of a watching cat.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the ancient handmaiden of Mrs. Oleander, very -much discomposed by this abrupt proceeding. "How you do startle a body -with your quick ways! Is Mrs. Oleander in here?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Susan. "How could Mrs. Oleander be here when I left her, five -minutes ago, half crazy with toothache?"</p> - -<p>"Well, she left the kitchen after you, and came up, and I thought she -might have dropped in to see the young woman," fibbed Sally. "How is -she?"</p> - -<p>"Suppose you drop in and see for yourself," responded the nurse, -provoked into being pert to her elders. "Miss Dane, here's a visitor -for you."</p> - -<p>Mollie turned round from the table, where she sat taking her evening -meal.</p> - -<p>"I don't want you or your visitors, Mrs. Sharpe, if that be your name," -said the irascible patient. "You're all a set of old tabby cats -together, and if you don't clear out, I'll fling something at your -head!"</p> - -<p>She bounced from her chair as she spoke and brandished the tea-pot.</p> - -<p>With a howl of dismay, old Sally turned tail and fled incontinently. -Just waiting to exchange one approving glance with her patient, the -nurse thought it prudent to follow her example.</p> - -<p>This little incident had one salutary effect. It frightened Sally out -of her feeble old wits, confirming, as it did, Dr. Guy's fable of the -periodical fits of madness to which the young lady was prone. She -related to her mistress, in shrill falsetto, what had occurred.</p> - -<p>"And if ever I go near the crazy little hussy again, as long as she's -under this roof," concluded Sally, wildly, "I'm a Dutchman!"</p> - -<p>"Weren't you frightened?" Mrs. Oleander asked, turning to the nurse.</p> - -<p>"Oh, not much!" said the serene Susan. "I'm used to it, you know. I -could have dodged if she had heaved the tea-pot. She takes them tantrums -once or twice a day."</p> - -<p>Mollie spent the evening alone, of course, but in despair no longer. -Hope had planted her shining foot on the threshold of her heart, and -for the time she could forget she was the most miserable wife of Dr. -Oleander, in the face of freedom. And Hugh Ingelow was near, and she -loved Hugh. Oh, if she had never refused him—bravest, noblest heart -that ever beat! the most generous gentleman the Creator ever made!</p> - -<p>Alone Mollie sat—alone, but lonely no longer; for yonder, drifting -lazily into the setting tide, the sunset glowing above and around it, -floated the snow-white skift. In the amber mist fluttered the banner -of blue—the banner of hope—and there, lounging easily, with his face -turned to her, was the man she loved, handsome Hugh! her beloved—her -darling!</p> - -<p>"And, oh! that I were by his side," Mollie exclaimed, in her rhapsody, -"never, never to leave it again."</p> - -<p>Solitude and imprisonment had done this willful child some good, you -see. They had taught her to think—to know herself. She never could be -the same crude, madcap Mollie again.</p> - -<p>The last, low, yellow gleam died out of the sunset—slowly crept up -the twilight, palely, gemmed with stars. A round, red moon showed its -crimson disk above the silvery horizon line, whitening as it arose, -until it trailed a flood of crystal radiance over the purple bosom of -the sleeping sea. And still Mollie sat there, watching the shining stars -creep out, and still the fairy bark floated lazily with the drifting -current. She could have sat there and watched him forever—her noble, -gallant Hugh! But by and by, as the night wind grew chill, the little -white boat, glided away and disappeared.</p> - -<p>The entrance of Mrs. Sharpe, with her night-lamp, aroused Mollie from -her trance. She turned eagerly round to greet her. Next to Hugh Ingelow, -her hope now was in this mysterious woman.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe closed the door carefully after her, set the lamp on the -table, dropped the curtain, and then turned her face to Mollie. One look -at that face told Mollie something had occurred.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" she asked in a breathless whisper.</p> - -<p>And Susan Sharpe, bending down, whispered hurriedly:</p> - -<p>"Doctor Oleander is here."</p> - -<p>Mollie barely repressed a cry. Susan Sharpe caught her, in alarm, by the -shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Hush! Are you crazy? Not a word. Yes, he's down-stairs—came half an -hour ago. Don't look so frightened—he won't trouble you this time."</p> - -<p>"This time," repeated Mollie, noticing the emphasis. "What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"That he was only run down to see how we get along, and to tell us to be -all ready for an early start. We are going to Cuba."</p> - -<p>"We?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," with a grim smile and nod, "we. You, and me, and Doctor -Oleander."</p> - -<p>"Oh, nurse—"</p> - -<p>"Hush! Hear me out—I can stay but a minute. He is going to take you -to Cuba. His affairs are nearly arranged. He means to start on Friday -night—this is Tuesday. A schooner will be in waiting at the wharf, in -the village yonder. I am to go with you as attendant. He is very much -pleased with me, and I have consented."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe laughed softly.</p> - -<p>"But, nurse—"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes; be still. We won't go—be sure of that. He wanted to come up -to see you, but I told him he had better not, if he wanted to have you -quiet when the time came. So he goes off again to-night without -troubling you."</p> - -<p>Mollie clasped her hands in thankfulness.</p> - -<p>"How can I thank you? How good you are!"</p> - -<p>"Thank me by going straight to bed and sleeping like a top. Let the -thought that it is likely to be your last night under this accursed roof -be your lullaby. And now I must go."</p> - -<p>Mollie held up her rosy lips—tempting and sweet—and the woman stooped -and kissed her.</p> - -<p>"You are my best friend," Mollie said, simply. "God bless you!"</p> - -<p>The woman smiled.</p> - -<p>"Nay, the kiss and the blessing, if meant for your best friend, should -have been kept for Hugh Ingelow. I but obey his orders."</p> - -<p>Mollie turned radiantly red. Mrs. Susan Sharpe, with a significant smile -at her own keenness, immediately quitted the room.</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander did not disturb Mollie. He departed half an hour after Mrs. -Sharpe quitted her for the night. The account his mother and Sally gave -of the nurse made him disposed to trust her.</p> - -<p>"I will take her with me," he thought, "since she is so trustworthy. It -would be too horribly dreary for Mollie without one companion of her own -sex."</p> - -<p>So he offered liberal terms, and Mrs. Sharpe closed with his offer -readily enough.</p> - -<p>"I'd as lief go to Cuba as not," she said, in her sedate way. "One place -is the same as another to me. But it's very soon to be ready."</p> - -<p>"Never mind," replied the doctor. "We'll find dry-goods stores in -Havana, I dare say, and, meantime, I'll provide some ready-made things -from New York."</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander departed very well satisfied. He would have liked very much -to see Mollie, but his approach always threw her into such a fury, and -he wanted her kept as quiet as possible until the hour of departure.</p> - -<p>"I'll have to resort to the vulgar alternative of chloroform, I dare -say," he thought. "She'll make a fight for it at the last. I can quiet -her, however."</p> - -<p>And so Dr. Oleander went back to New York without one suspicion that his -new nurse was playing him false.</p> - -<p>Within an hour after breakfast, the peddler presented himself next -morning. Again Mrs. Oleander and Sally were vividly interested, and -again each purchased something. Again Mrs. Sharpe said she wanted -nothing, and again she knelt down to examine the contents of the pack. -The peddler pressed his goods, Mrs. Sharpe obdurately declined. He -persisted, Mrs. Sharpe grew angry.</p> - -<p>"Take these here gloves, then, for massy sake!" cried the peddler in -desperation, "ef yer won't take nothin' else. They're the richest of -silk gloves, and, bein' it's you, only fifty cents. Just you feel 'em."</p> - -<p>He looked Mrs. Sharpe full in the face. She took the gloves—a slip of -paper was to be felt inside—a moment's demur, then she purchased and -put them in her pocket.</p> - -<p>The peddler departed; Mrs. Sharpe went upstairs, and drew forth the -slip of paper. There were but three lines:</p> - -<p>"Meet me this afternoon at two. I will be waiting in the woods near the -shore, where you saw my boat yesterday. I know he was with you last -night."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe read this, destroyed it, and sat ruminating.</p> - -<p>"What if they won't let me go? But no, they wouldn't dare keep me a -prisoner, and if it came to fisticuffs," smiling to herself, "I could -beat the three of them—poor old bodies! I'll go by strategy, if -possible—by main force, if necessary. But I'll go."</p> - -<p>Five minutes longer the nurse sat thinking. Then she arose, walked -down-stairs, and complained drearily of a shocking bad headache.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander recommended a woman's cure—a cup of strong tea and going -to bed. But Susan Sharpe shook her head.</p> - -<p>"Tea never does me no good, and going to bed only makes me worse. I -suppose it's staying in-doors so much. I ain't used to it. I always take -a walk every afternoon. I'll wait and see if it gets better. If it -don't, I'll go and take a little walk along the shore. A mouthful of -fresh air will do me good."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe waited accordingly, but the headache did not get better. On -the contrary, it grew so much worse that when the one-o'clock dinner was -ready, she was unable to eat a mouthful. She lay with her head on the -table in a sort of stupor.</p> - -<p>"I think you had better take a walk," said Mrs. Oleander, who was not an -ill-natured old woman on the whole. "I don't want you to be laid up on -our hands."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe glanced at the clock; it wanted a quarter of two. She rose -at once.</p> - -<p>"I think I must, or I'll be fit for nothing for a week. I'll go and put -on my things."</p> - -<p>In five minutes, Susan Sharpe walked out of the garden gate and down to -the shore. Old Peter closed the gate, watched her out of sight, and went -back to the house, unsuspectingly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe sauntered slowly over the sandy beach to the strip of dark -woods, skirted them, to avoid being seen from the windows of the house, -and called:</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow."</p> - -<p>"Here," answered a voice, and the peddler emerged from the trees and -stood beside her. "You're a treasure, Mrs. Susan Sharpe," said the -peddler—"worth your weight in crown diamonds. How is she?"</p> - -<p>"As well as can be expected. A good deal the better for seeing you from -her window last evening."</p> - -<p>"I saw you both watching. She knows I have come to rescue her?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. She is a woman."</p> - -<p>"Does she recognize you?"</p> - -<p>"No," with a laugh. "She called me her best friend last night. If she -only knew!"</p> - -<p>"She would still call you her best friend, perhaps. Your 'make-up' is a -good one, Sarah, since she has failed to recognize you. What brought the -doctor?"</p> - -<p>Susan Sharpe briefly told him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow whistled expressively.</p> - -<p>"So soon? But I have thought so. He is not the man to wait. Well, we must -be ahead of him, Sarah."</p> - -<p>Sarah nodded.</p> - -<p>"Yes—how?"</p> - -<p>"I have it all arranged. Miss Dane must escape to-night. Look at this."</p> - -<p>He pointed to a basket at his feet.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe lifted the cover, and saw two lumps of raw beef.</p> - -<p>"Well?" she asked, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"'A sop for Cerberus,'" laughed Hugh Ingelow; "a supper for the dogs. -They'll never want another after."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"The meat is poisoned; there is strychnine enough in these two pieces to -kill a dozen dogs. I mean to throw that to them this evening."</p> - -<p>"But how?"</p> - -<p>"Over the wall, of course. What's their names? They'll come when I call -them."</p> - -<p>"Tiger and Nero."</p> - -<p>"So be it. Tiger and Nero will devour the beef and ask no questions. An -hour after they'll be as dead as two door-nails."</p> - -<p>"Poor fellows! But it can't be helped, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose not. Save your sympathy, Sarah. You must do for the three old -folks."</p> - -<p>"Poison them, too?" asked Sarah, grimly.</p> - -<p>"Not quite. Just put them to sleep."</p> - -<p>"Indeed! How?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow produced a little white paper from his vest pocket.</p> - -<p>"You see this powder?" holding it up. "Drop it into the tea-pot this -evening, and don't drink any of the tea."</p> - -<p>The woman shrunk a little.</p> - -<p>"I'm almost afraid, Mr. Ingelow. I don't like drugging. They're old and -feeble; I daren't do it."</p> - -<p>"You must do it," Hugh Ingelow said, sternly. "I tell you there is no -danger. Do you take me for a murderer?"</p> - -<p>"No; but there might be a mistake."</p> - -<p>"There is none. The powder is an opiate; it will harm no one. They will -go to sleep a little earlier, and sleep a little longer and a little -sounder than usual—that is all."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe took the paper, but with evident reluctance.</p> - -<p>"I tell you it is all right," reiterated Hugh Ingelow; "no one is to -be murdered but the dogs. Doctor Oleander will have no scruple about -drugging Miss Dane on Friday night, you will see. The choice lies -between her and them. Are you going to fail me at the last, Sarah?" -sternly.</p> - -<p>"No," said the woman. She dropped the little package in her pocket, and -looked him firmly in the face. "I'll do it, Mr. Ingelow. And then?"</p> - -<p>"And then the dogs will be dead, and the people asleep, before ten -o'clock. At ten I'll be at the gate; a vehicle will be waiting down -below in the clump of cedars. You will open the house door and the -garden gate, and let me in. Before another day we'll be in the city."</p> - -<p>"So be it. And now," said Mrs. Sharpe, drawing her shawl around her, "I -must go. I came to walk off a bad headache; I find it is gone, so I had -better return."</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, and God speed you!" said Hugh Ingelow.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe walked back to the house. Old Peter admitted her, and all -three were solicitous about her headache.</p> - -<p>"Much better," Mrs. Sharpe said, quietly. "I knew that walk would cure -it."</p> - -<p>All the rest of the afternoon she helped old Sally to manufacture pies. -Tea-time came, and, ever willing, she volunteered to make the tea.</p> - -<p>"Do so," said old Sally. "I can't abear to take my hands out o' dough -when they're into it."</p> - -<p>The tea was made, the supper-table set, and then Mrs. Sharpe begged -permission to make herself a cup of coffee.</p> - -<p>"I find it better for my head than tea. It will cure me quite, I know."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Oleander assented, and the coffee was made. The quartet sat down -to supper, and Susan Sharpe felt an inward quaking as she watched them -drink the tea. Mrs. Oleander complained that it was weak; Sally said it -must have boiled, it had such a nasty taste; but they drank it for all -that.</p> - -<p>Supper over, Mrs. Sharpe brought up her patient's. But she carried her -coffee, and left the doctored tea behind.</p> - -<p>"We are to escape to-night," she said to Mollie. "Be ready. We will -start at ten. Don't ask me to explain now. I feel nervous and am going -down."</p> - -<p>Before an hour had elapsed the drug began its work. Mrs. Oleander nodded -over her knitting; Sally was drowsy over her dishes; Peter yawned audibly -before the fire.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what makes me so sleepy this evening," Mrs. Oleander said, -gaping. "The weak tea, I suppose. Peter, close up early to-night; I -think I'll go to bed."</p> - -<p>"I'll let the dogs loose now," said Peter. "I'm blamed sleepy myself."</p> - -<p>The old man departed. Very soon the hoarse barking of the dogs was heard -as they scampered out of their kennel. Peter returned to find the two -old women nodding in company.</p> - -<p>"You had better go to bed," suggested Mrs. Sharpe. "I'm going myself. -Good-night."</p> - -<p>She quitted the kitchen. Mrs. Oleander, scarcely able to keep her eyes -open, rose up also.</p> - -<p>"I will go. I never felt so sleepy in my life. Good-night; Sally."</p> - -<p>"Good-night," said Sally, drowsily. "I'll go after you."</p> - -<p>Before the kitchen clock struck nine, sleep had sealed the eyelids of -Mrs. Oleander and her servants more tightly than they were ever sealed -before. And out in the yard, stiff and stark, lay Nero and Tiger. They -had eaten the poisoned beef, and, like faithful sentinels, were dead at -their posts.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> - -<h3>A MOONLIGHT FLITTING.</h3> - - -<p>The big Dutch clock on the kitchen mantel struck nine. The silence of -the grave reigned within the house. With the first clear chime Mrs. -Susan Sharpe rose from the bed on which she had thrown herself, dressed -and prepared for action.</p> - -<p>She drew the curtain and looked out. The night was celestial. A -brilliant, full moon flooded the dark earth and purple sea with silvery -radiance; the sky was cloudless—blue as Mollie Dane's eyes, the stars -beyond number, big and bright.</p> - -<p>A faint sea-breeze just stirred the swaying trees; the surf broke in a -dull, monotonous wash on the shining strand; even the dreary Long Island -farmhouse and its desolate surroundings were transfigured and glorified -by the radiant moonlight.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Susan Sharpe was an inestimable woman in her way, but neither a -poet nor an artist. She gave a complacent glance at earth, and sky, and -water, thankful that the benign influences, in the way of weather, were -at work to aid them.</p> - -<p>"It's a very nice night," murmured Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "Couldn't be -better if they tried ever so much. It would have been dreadful awkward -if it rained. How still the house is—like a tomb! Dear me, I hope there -was no harm done by that drug! I must go and get ready at once."</p> - -<p>But just at that moment she heard a sharp, shrill, prolonged whistle. -She paused. An instant more and a man vaulted lightly over the high -board fence.</p> - -<p>"Lor'!" said Mrs. Sharpe, "if it isn't him already! I hope the dogs are -done for."</p> - -<p>It seemed as if they were, for, as she looked and listened, in -considerable trepidation, the man approached the house in swift, -swinging strides. Of course, it was the peddler. Mrs. Sharpe threw up -her window and projected her head.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow!"</p> - -<p>"Halloo!"</p> - -<p>The man halted and looked up.</p> - -<p>"Where are the dogs?"</p> - -<p>"In the dogish elysium, I hope. Dead and done for, Sarah. Come down, -like a good girl, and let me in."</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure that they're fast asleep."</p> - -<p>"Oh, they are," said Hugh Ingelow, confidently, "if you administered the -drug and they drank the tea."</p> - -<p>"I did," said Mrs. Sharpe, "and they drank the tea and went to bed awful -sleepy. If you think it's safe, I'll go down."</p> - -<p>"All right. Come along."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe lowered the sash and hurried down stairs. Bolts clattered, -the lock creaked, but the sleepers in the house made no sign. A second -or two and the nocturnal marauders were together in the hall.</p> - -<p>"I told you it was safe," said Mr. Ingelow. "You are a woman in a -thousand, Sarah, to manage so cleverly! Now, then, for Miss Dane! -Upstairs, is it? Do you go in first, Sarah; but don't tell her I'm -coming. I want the pleasure of surprising her myself."</p> - -<p>Sarah smiled, and unlocked Mollie's door. The girl was sitting with an -anxious, listening, expectant face. She rose up and turned around at the -opening of the door.</p> - -<p>"Is it you, nurse? Oh, I have been so uneasy! What noise was—"</p> - -<p>She never finished the sentence—it died out in an inarticulate cry of -joy. For Hugh Ingelow, his disguise torn off, stood in the door-way, -smiling and serene as the god of safety himself.</p> - -<p>Mollie Dane was a creature of impulse—she never stopped to think. One -faint; suppressed cry, one bound forward, and she was in the young man's -arms.</p> - -<p>"Hugh! Hugh! Hugh!" she cried, hysterically, clinging to him, "save me! -save me!"</p> - -<p>It was the first time she had ever called him other than Mr. Ingelow. -The young man's arms closed around her as if they never would open -again.</p> - -<p>"My darling, I have come to save you!"</p> - -<p>It had all passed in five seconds, but that short interval was long -enough for Mollie's womanly instincts to take the alarm. She disengaged -herself, reddening violently. What would he think of her? and Mrs. -Sharpe there, too!</p> - -<p>"They have driven me nearly out of my senses!" she said, with a sort of -choking sob. "I don't know what I am doing half the time, and I was so -glad to see a friend's familiar face, Mr. Ingelow."</p> - -<p>The blue eyes—the eyes of a very child—lifted themselves wistfully, -deprecatingly, shining in tears. Hugh Ingelow was touched to the core of -his heart.</p> - -<p>"I know it, my poor little girl! It is enough to drive any one out of -his senses. But let us see if we can't outwit the crafty Oleander. Put -your bonnet on and come."</p> - -<p>Mollie paused suddenly, and looked first at him, then at Mrs. Susan -Sharpe, then back again.</p> - -<p>"Well, Miss Dane," said Mr. Ingelow, "you're not afraid to come with -me?"</p> - -<p>"Afraid?" the blue eyes turned upon him with an eloquent glance. "Oh, -no! But she—Mrs. Sharpe—"</p> - -<p>"Is coming, too, of course, to play propriety," laughed Hugh. "Mrs. -Sharpe," turning to that demure lady, "put on your fixings and let us -fly!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe nodded, and turned to go into her own room.</p> - -<p>"There's Miss Dane's things," she said, pointing to the pegs on which -they hung. "I'll be back in two minutes."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow took them down, and tenderly wrapped the long mantle about -the slender, girlish figure.</p> - -<p>"Are you sure you will be warm enough, Mollie?—I beg your pardon—Miss -Dane."</p> - -<p>"Ah, call me Mollie!" the eloquent glance once more. "How good you are -to me, Mr. Ingelow!"</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow winced as if she had stabbed him.</p> - -<p>"I'm a wretch—a brute—a heartless monster! That's what I am, Mollie, -and you'll think so, too, some day—that's the worst of it. Don't wear -that puzzled, frightened face, my darling! Heaven knows I would die for -you!"</p> - -<p>She took his hand and kissed it. Before either had time to speak, of -course Mrs. Sharpe must happen in and spoil all.</p> - -<p>But Hugh Ingelow, strange to say, looked rather relieved. His face had -flushed hotly under that innocent kiss, and then grown deathly pale. He -was very white when Mrs. Sharpe came in, and Mrs. Sharpe's sharp eyes -saw it. The green glasses were gone.</p> - -<p>"You look fit to die," observed Mrs. Susan Sharpe, eying him. "What's -the matter?"</p> - -<p>Mollie looked at him, then turned away. Had she been forward? Was he -mortified?</p> - -<p>She colored painfully, then slowly petrified to marble. But the young -artist only laughed.</p> - -<p>"Pining for you, Mrs. Sharpe. I only exist in the light of your eyes. By -the way, where's the green spectacles?"</p> - -<p>"In my pocket. Come!"</p> - -<p>Mollie had knotted her bonnet strings with nervous, trembling fingers. -She was thrilling through with mortification. She had been bold, and she -had disgusted his fastidious taste, and she had not meant it. She was so -grateful, and she loved him so dearly, but she never would offend in -that way again.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow offered her his arm, but she drew back.</p> - -<p>"I will follow you," she said, in a low voice, shrinking painfully into -herself.</p> - -<p>He said no more, but led the way. Mrs. Sharpe went after, Miss Dane -last. No sound broke the stillness of the house. They might have been in -their beds for all the noise they made.</p> - -<p>"I hope it's all right," Mrs. Sharpe said, with a very uneasy face; -"but I feel scared."</p> - -<p>"You needn't, then," answered Mr. Ingelow; "they're safe enough. They'll -be all alive in two or three hours from now, and will never know what -ailed them. Save your sympathy, Susan, for time of need."</p> - -<p>They went down-stairs, out-of-doors, into the cool, bright moonlight. -Mollie Dane drew a long, long breath of unspeakable thankfulness as she -breathed the fresh, free air once more.</p> - -<p>"Thank Heaven," she thought, "and—Hugh Ingelow!"</p> - -<p>They reached the garden gate; it stood wide; they passed out, and the -artist closed it securely after him.</p> - -<p>"'Safe bind, safe find!' Now, Miss Dane, take my arm, and let us see you -step out. I have a trap waiting down the road. Neat thing this in the -way of moonlight, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>Mollie essayed to laugh. He had not waited for her to decline his -proffered arm this time—he had taken her hand and drawn it securely -through.</p> - -<p>"How does freedom feel, Mollie, after a week or two of close -imprisonment?"</p> - -<p>"Very delightful. You must suffer the imprisonment first, Mr. Ingelow, -before you can realize it."</p> - -<p>"I would prefer trying to realize it without. Ah, my worthy Doctor -Oleander, I think I have outwitted you nicely!"</p> - -<p>"I have been so bewildered, and so flurried, and so stunned from the -first," said Mollie, "that I can not properly comprehend anything, but -I should like to hear how you have brought all this about."</p> - -<p>"Why," said Mr. Ingelow, "Mrs. Sharpe told me."</p> - -<p>"Yes; but you sent Mrs. Sharpe here in the first place; she told me -that. How did you know I was here?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! thereby hangs a tale—too long to tell at this sharp pace. Wait -until to-morrow, Miss Mollie. There's our vehicle yonder. I might tell -you by the way, but the road is long, and the night is chill, and I am -to be charioteer. I couldn't do proper justice to the subject, you -perceive; and besides, I want you to cuddle up and go to sleep. Here we -are. Pile in, Mrs. Sharpe; the back seat, if you please. Miss Dane and I -will sit in front and shield you from the inclemency of the weather."</p> - -<p>"Much obliged to you, sir," Mrs. Sharpe said, dryly, obeying orders, -nevertheless.</p> - -<p>"I'll sit back with Mrs. Sharpe," said Mollie, sensitively shrinking.</p> - -<p>"You'll do nothing of the sort!" retorted Mr. Ingelow, authoritatively. -"You'll do precisely as I tell you! You and Mrs. Sharpe are both in my -power, and if you don't keep uncommonly civil and docile, I'll run off -with the pair of you and start a seraglio! There, ma'am, you're -comfortable, I hope? Now, the sooner you go to sleep the better."</p> - -<p>He helped Mrs. Sharpe into the back seat of the two-seated buggy, -wrapped her up, and then assisted Mollie up in front.</p> - -<p>"A splendid night for our business," he said, getting in beside her and -gathering up the reins. "Now then, off we go, over 'brake, bush and -scaur,' and good-bye to Doctor Oleander and the trip to Cuba!"</p> - -<p>Obedience was not very hard in this instance. Miss Dane snugged up nice -and close to Mr. Ingelow, and felt very comfortable indeed. As for him, -there was a glow of happiness about his heart like the halo round a full -moon. They would have been satisfied, just then, to sit side by side and -drive along in a glory of moonshine forever and ever.</p> - -<p>"Where are we going?" Mollie asked once.</p> - -<p>"To the city—to New York."</p> - -<p>"Oh! I know. But where?"</p> - -<p>"Wherever you please, Miss Mollie. That will be Mr. Walraven's, I -presume?"</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>Mollie hesitated.</p> - -<p>"What?" he said, in surprise. "Don't you want to go home?"</p> - -<p>"Very much, Mr. Ingelow. It isn't that."</p> - -<p>"Well, what is it, then?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow, you'll think me very silly, I dare say; but I don't want -to go up there in a matter-of-fact sort of way at day-break to-morrow -morning, in this double buggy, with you and Mrs. Sharpe. I should -like—how shall I say it?—a little <i>coup de théâtre</i>!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! I understand," Mr. Ingelow laughed. "It is quite natural. I should -like it myself. And, by Jove! I've got a capital idea."</p> - -<p>Mollie looked up brightly.</p> - -<p>"Oleander has given out that he is going to Cuba—he makes no secret of -one half the story, you see—and Mr. Walraven gives a farewell dinner in -honor of the mournful occasion, on Thursday—to-morrow evening. The -party is select—very—on your account, you know—only Sir Roger -Trajenna, Walraven's lawyer, Sardonyx, and myself. Now, when we're all -assembled, discussing your absence, as I'll take care we shall be, and -Oleander is telling lies by the yard, do you appear like a thunder-clap -and transfix him. Guilt will be confounded, innocence triumphantly -vindicated, the virtuous made happy, and the curtain will go down amid -tremendous applause. Eh, how do you like the style of that?"</p> - -<p>Mollie laughed gleefully. Half-tamed thing that she was, a few moments -of breezy freedom, by the side of the man she loved, made her all her -old, happy, mischief-loving self again. In the first bright sparkle and -intoxication, she could quite forget that awful fact that she was Dr. -Oleander's wedded wife.</p> - -<p>"Splendid! Oh! what fun it will be to see him! And such glorious -revenge, too!"</p> - -<p>"Seriously, Mollie," said Mr. Ingelow, "he deserves to be punished for -his unmanly trick."</p> - -<p>"And he shall be!" Mollie cried, her eyes sparkling. "He shall be, if all -the world knows the story! What care I? I will have my revenge on the -man I hate—on the man who has wronged me beyond reparation. And then I -can go away where no one will know me, and make my own way through the -world, as I did before I ever came to New York."</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow looked at her. Her eyes were alight, her cheeks flushed, -her whole face eager, angry, and aglow.</p> - -<p>"Wronged you beyond reparation!" he slowly repeated. "Mollie, what do -you mean?"</p> - -<p>"I mean," Mollie passionately cried, "that I am his wife. And I will -never forgive him for making me that—never, never, if it were my dying -day!"</p> - -<p>"His wife!"</p> - -<p>The young man looked at her thunder-struck.</p> - -<p>"Oh! you don't know. You hadn't heard, of course. It wasn't this time. I -would have murdered him and myself this time before he would ever lay a -finger on me. It was before. You remember that other time I was carried -off?"</p> - -<p>"Oh!"</p> - -<p>It was all Mr. Ingelow said; but, singular to relate, he looked -unutterably relieved.</p> - -<p>"He married me then—forced me to marry him—and I—Oh, miserable girl -that I am! why did I not die a thousand deaths sooner than consent? But -I was mad, and it's too late now. Mr. Rashleigh married us. You -recollect that story he told at Mrs. Grand's dinner-party? Well, I was -the masked heroine of that adventure; but I never, never, never thought -Guy Oleander was the hero. I'd have died, even then, sooner than become -his wife. I hoped it was—I thought it was—"</p> - -<p>She paused abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Who?" pointedly asked Hugh Ingelow.</p> - -<p>Mollie stole a side-long glance from under her sweeping lashes at the -handsome face.</p> - -<p>"Some one who loved me as well, and whom I—well, didn't exactly hate; -and I do hate Doctor Oleander!"</p> - -<p>"Which is extremely natural; at the same time wicked, I suppose. Now, -Mollie, don't try to keep awake and talk, because the journey is long -and dreary. Follow Mrs. Sharpe's example and go to sleep."</p> - -<p>He wrapped her up closer; and Mollie, with a delicious sense of safety, -and comfort, and sleepiness, cuddled close in her wraps and felt -luxuriously happy.</p> - -<p>She had slept very little of late. Tears had been her nightly portion, -instead of slumber. Now she was happy and at rest; and the very rush of -the swift wind, as they bowled along, made her drowsy. She leaned her -head against his arm and fell fast asleep.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> - -<h3>PRIVATE THEATRICALS.</h3> - - -<p>It was broad day when Mollie awoke, the sun shining brilliantly. She -started up on her elbow, bewildered, and gazed around.</p> - -<p>She was lying on a lounge in a strange room, and Mrs. Susan Sharpe was -seated in an elbow-chair before her, nodding drowsily. At Mollie's -exclamation she opened her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Where are we?" asked the young lady, still bewildered.</p> - -<p>"In Mr. Ingelow's studio," responded Mrs. Susan Sharpe.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Broadway! Then we are safe in New York?"</p> - -<p>The uproar in the great thoroughfare below answered her effectually. -She rose up and walked to one of the windows. Life was all astir on the -noisy pave. The crowds coming and going, the rattle and clatter were -unspeakably delightful, after the dead stagnation of her brief -imprisonment.</p> - -<p>"How did we come here?" asked Mollie, at length, turning round. "The -last I remember I was dropping asleep in the buggy."</p> - -<p>"And you stayed asleep—sound—all the way," replied Mrs. Sharpe. "You -slept like the dead. Mr. Ingelow lifted you out and carried you up here, -and you never woke. I was asleep, too; but he made no ado about rousing -me up. You were quite another matter."</p> - -<p>Mollie blushed.</p> - -<p>"How soundly I must have slept! What's the hour, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>"About half past eight."</p> - -<p>"Is that all? And where is Mr. Ingelow?"</p> - -<p>"Gone to get his breakfast and send us ours. Hadn't you better wash and -comb your hair, Miss Dane? Here is the lavatory."</p> - -<p>Miss Dane refreshed herself by a cold ablution, and combed out her -beautiful, shining tresses.</p> - -<p>As she flung them back, a quick, light step came flying upstairs, a -clear voice sounded, whistling: "My Love is But a Lassie Yet."</p> - -<p>"That's Mr. Ingelow," said Susan Sharpe, decisively.</p> - -<p>The next instant came a light rap at the door.</p> - -<p>"The room is thine own," said Mollie, in French. "Come in."</p> - -<p>"Good-morning, ladies," Mr. Ingelow said, entering, handsome and -radiant. "Miss Dane, I trust you feel refreshed after your journey?"</p> - -<p>"And my long sleep? Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"And ready for breakfast?"</p> - -<p>"Quite ready."</p> - -<p>"That is well, for here it comes."</p> - -<p>As he spoke, a colored personage in a white apron entered, staggering -under the weight of a great tray.</p> - -<p>"Breakfast for three," said Mr. Ingelow, whipping off the silver covers. -"Set chairs, Sam. Now, then, ladies, I intended to breakfast down at the -restaurant; but the temptation to take my matinal meal in such fair -company was not to be resisted. I didn't try to resist it, and—here we -are!"</p> - -<p>Mollie sat beside him, too pretty to tell, and smiling like an angel. At -Seventeen, one night is enough to make us as happy as a seraph. For -golden-haired, blue-eyed Mollie earth held no greater happiness, just -then, than to sit by Hugh Ingelow's side and bask in the light of his -smile.</p> - -<p>"Delightfully suggestive all this, eh?" said the artist, helping his -fair neighbor bountifully.</p> - -<p>And Mollie blushed "celestial, rosy red."</p> - -<p>"What comes next?" she asked. "After breakfast—what then?"</p> - -<p>"That is for Mistress Mollie to decide."</p> - -<p>"I am not to go home until this evening?"</p> - -<p>"Not if you wish to give unlucky Oleander his <i>coup de gráce</i>. Poor -devil! I pity him, too. If you intend to make your <i>entree</i> like the -ghost of Banquo at the feast, you can't appear, of course, until -evening."</p> - -<p>"Must I stay here all day?"</p> - -<p>"Will it be so very hard?" with an eloquent glance. "I shall be here."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" Mollie said, hastily, blushing and laughing. "It would be -light penance, in any case; to spend a day here, after a fortnight down -yonder. What I mean is, I might improve the time by going to see Miriam."</p> - -<p>"If you wait, Miriam may improve the time by coming to see you."</p> - -<p>"No! What does she know about your studio?"</p> - -<p>"Heaps!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "It isn't the first time ladies have -come to my studio."</p> - -<p>"I know; but Miriam—"</p> - -<p>"It isn't the first time for Miriam, either."</p> - -<p>Mollie opened wide her eyes.</p> - -<p>"I protest, Mr. Ingelow, I didn't know you were acquainted with her at -all."</p> - -<p>"Which proves you are not <i>au fait</i> of all my lady acquaintances. But, -to solve the riddle, it was Miriam who first came here and put me on -your track."</p> - -<p>The blue eyes opened wider.</p> - -<p>"You see," said Mr. Ingelow, with the air of one entering upon a story, -"she knew about your appointment that night, and was at the place of -rendezvous, all silent and unseen. She saw you go off in the carriage -with that man, and took it into her head that something was wrong. She -called at Mr. Walraven's that day, and found you were missing—no tale -nor tidings to be had of you. Then, what does she do but come to me?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow looked full at the young lady as he spoke, and once more -Mollie was silly enough to blush.</p> - -<p>"I really don't know how it was," pursued Mr. Ingelow, with provoking -deliberation, "but Madame Miriam had taken it into her head that I was -the man you had gone to meet. Extraordinary, wasn't it? She thought so, -however, and was taken all aback to find me quietly painting here."</p> - -<p>Mollie did not dare to look up. All her saucy <i>insouciance</i> was gone. -Her face was burning. She felt as though it would be an infinite relief -to sink through the floor. The floor not being practicable for the -purpose, she stole a look at Mrs. Sharpe; but Mrs. Sharpe sat with the -face of a wooden figure-head, intent on the business of eating and -drinking.</p> - -<p>"Miriam and I had a long and confidential talk," the young artist -continued, "and came to the conclusion that Doctor Oleander was at the -bottom of the matter, and that, wherever you were, you were an unwilling -prisoner. Of course, to a gentleman of my knight-errantry, that was -sufficient to fire my blood. I put lance in rest, buckled on my armor, -mounted my prancing charger, and set off to the ogre's castle to rescue -the captive maiden! And for the rest, you know it. I came, I saw, I -conquered—Doctor Oleander!"</p> - -<p>"Which means," Mollie said, trying to laugh, "you imposed Mrs. Sharpe -here upon Doctor Oleander as the nurse for his purpose, and fooled him -to the top of his bent. Well, Mr. Ingelow, you have gone to a great deal -of trouble on my account, and I am very much obliged to you."</p> - -<p>"Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Is that not enough?"</p> - -<p>"Hardly. I don't labor for such poor pay. As you say, I have gone to -a great deal of trouble, and lost three nights' sleep running. I want -something more than 'thank you' for all that."</p> - -<p>Mollie tried to laugh—all in a flutter.</p> - -<p>"Name your price, then, sir. Though it were half my kingdom, you shall -be paid."</p> - -<p>"And don't mind me, sir," suggested Mrs. Sharpe, demurely.</p> - -<p>"Ah! but I do mind you," said Mr. Ingelow; "and besides, the time for -payment has not yet come. Doctor Oleander's little bill must be settled -first. What do you mean to do about it, Miss Dane?"</p> - -<p>"Punish him to the utmost of my power."</p> - -<p>"And that will be pretty severe punishment, if you appeal to the laws -of our beloved country. Abductions, and forcible marriages, and illegal -imprisonment don't go for nothing, I fancy. Only, unfortunately, the -whole land will ring with your story, and your notoriety will be more -extensive than gratifying."</p> - -<p>Mollie made a gesture of horror.</p> - -<p>"Oh, stop! Not that! I should die if it were known I was Guy Oleander's -wife! I mean it, Hugh Ingelow. I should die of shame!"</p> - -<p>She rose impetuously from the table and walked away to one of the -windows.</p> - -<p>"You don't know how I abhor that man—abhor, detest, hate, loathe him! -There is no word in all the language strong enough to express my feeling -for him. Think of it, Mr. Ingelow!"—she faced around, her eyes -flashing fire—"think of tearing a bride from the very altar on her -wedding-night, and compelling her to marry a man she abhorred! You, who -are a brave man and an honorable gentleman, tell me what language is -strong enough for so dastardly a deed."</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow left his seat and faced her, very pale. Mrs. Sharpe slipped -out of the room.</p> - -<p>"Do you regret your broken marriage with Sir Roger Trajenna, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"No—yes—no. I don't know—I don't think I do. It isn't that. I didn't -care for Sir Roger. I was mean enough and shabby enough to consent to -marry him for his wealth and title. But I was such a little fool! Sir -Roger was a thousand times too good for me, and he and I are both well -out of that matter. But that is no excuse for such a villainous deed."</p> - -<p>"True. Nothing can excuse it. But you must be merciful. The man loved -you passionately."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow," opening her eyes wild and wide, "are you pleading Doctor -Oleander's case?"</p> - -<p>"No, Mollie—the case of the man who loved you so madly, so recklessly, -that the thought of your being another's—another's whom you did not -love—drove him to insanity, and to the commission of an insane deed."</p> - -<p>"And that man was Doctor Oleander."</p> - -<p>"It was not!"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow!"</p> - -<p>"No, Mollie; never Guy Oleander. He hadn't the pluck. He never cared for -you enough."</p> - -<p>"But he did it twice."</p> - -<p>"Once only—this last time—stung, goaded into it by the lash of Mrs. -Walraven's waspish tongue. But he is not the man who married you, -whoever that man may be. At least," cooling down suddenly, as he saw the -full blue eyes fixed upon him with piercing intentness, "I don't believe -it."</p> - -<p>"What do you believe, then, Mr. Ingelow?" Mollie said, slowly and -suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"That when you made Miriam the confidante of your story, on a certain -night in your bedroom, Mrs. Carl Walraven overheard you."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so; but you'll find that's the way of it. She listened and -heard, and patched it up with Mr. Rashleigh's dinner-table tale, and -confabulated with her cousin, and put him up to this last dodge. She saw -your advertisement in the paper, and understood it as well as you did, -and Doctor Oleander was there in waiting. You committed one unaccountable -blunder. You appointed ten for the nocturnal interview, and were at the -place of the tryst at half past nine. How do you explain that little -circumstance?"</p> - -<p>"It seems to me, Mr. Ingelow," said Mollie, "that you must be a -sorcerer. How do you know all this?"</p> - -<p>"Partly from Miriam, partly from my own inborn ingenuity, as a Yankee, -in guessing. Please answer my question."</p> - -<p>"I didn't know I was before time. It was later than half past nine by my -watch when I quitted the house. I remember listening for the clocks to -strike ten as I reached Fourteenth Street."</p> - -<p>"You didn't hear them?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Of course not. Your watch was tampered with, and that confirms my -suspicion of Mrs. Walraven. Believe me, Mollie, a trap was laid for you, -and you were caught in it. You never met 'Black Mask' that night."</p> - -<p>"If I thought so!" Mollie cried, clasping her hands.</p> - -<p>"You will find it so," Hugh Ingelow said, very quietly. "Let that be -Doctor Oleander's punishment. Make him confess his fraud—make him -confess Mrs. Walraven aided and abetted him—to-night."</p> - -<p>"How can I?"</p> - -<p>"Simply enough. Accuse him and her before us all. There will be no one -present you can not trust. Your guardian, Sir Roger, and myself know -already. Sardonyx is Mr. Walraven's lawyer, and silence is a lawyer's -forte."</p> - -<p>"Well?" breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"Accuse him—threaten him. Tell him you know his whole fraud from first -to last. Accuse her! Tell him if he does not prove to your satisfaction -he is the man who carried you off and married you, or if he refuses to -own he is not the man, that he will go straight from the house to -prison. He knows you can fulfill the threat. I think it will succeed."</p> - -<p>"And if he confesses he is not the man who married me—if he -acknowledges the fraud—what then?"</p> - -<p>"Ah! what then? Doctor Oleander will not be your husband."</p> - -<p>"And I will be as much in the dark as ever."</p> - -<p>"A moment ago you were in despair because you thought he, of all men, was -the man," said Hugh Ingelow. "It seems to me you are hard to satisfy."</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie; "if it be as you suspect, I shall be unspeakably -thankful. No fate earth can have in store for me can be half so -horrible as to know myself the wife of Guy Oleander."</p> - -<p>"And if I thought you were his wife, Mollie, rest assured I should never -have taken you from him," said Mr. Ingelow, decidedly. "You are no more -Guy Oleander's wife than I am."</p> - -<p>"Heaven be praised for that!" Mollie cried. "But then, I am entirely in -the dark. Whose wife am I?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow smiled.</p> - -<p>"That question has an extraordinary sound. One doesn't hear it often in -a life-time. If I were a sorcerer, as you accuse me of being, I might -perhaps answer it. As it is, I leave it to your own woman's wit to -discover."</p> - -<p>"My woman's wit is completely at a loss," said Mollie, despairingly. "If -ever I do find out, and I think it likely I shall, the divorce law will -set me free. I must tell guardy all, and get him to help me."</p> - -<p>"Is there no one you suspect?"</p> - -<p>"Not one—now," Mollie replied, turning away from him.</p> - -<p>How could Mollie Dane tell him she had ever suspected, ever hoped, it -might be himself? It was evidently a matter of very little moment to him.</p> - -<p>"And you can not forgive the love that resorts to such extreme measures, -Mollie?" he asked, after a pause.</p> - -<p>"No more than I can forgive Doctor Oleander for carrying me off and -holding me captive in his dreary farmhouse," answered Mollie, steadily. -"No, Mr. Ingelow, I will never forgive the man who married me against my -will."</p> - -<p>"Not even if you cared a little for him, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>He asked the question hesitatingly, as if he had something at stake in -the answer. And Mollie's eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed angry red -as she heard it.</p> - -<p>"I care for no one in that way, Mr. Ingelow," she said, in a ringing -voice. "You ought to know that. If I did, I should hate him for his -dastardly deed."</p> - -<p>Dead silence fell. Mollie stood looking down at the bustle of Broadway -at one window, Mr. Ingelow at the other. He was pale—she flushed -indignant red. She was grieved, and hurt, and cruelly mortified. She had -found out how dearly she loved him, only to find out with it he was -absolutely indifferent to her; he was ready to plead another man's -cause, yield her up to her bolder lover.</p> - -<p>She could have cried with disappointment and mortification, and crying -was not at all in Mollie's line. Never until now had she given up the -hope that he still loved her.</p> - -<p>"It serves me right, I dare say," she thought, bitterly. "I have been -a flirt and a triller, and I refused him cruelly, heartlessly, for that -old man. Oh! if the past could be but undone, what a happy, happy -creature I should be!"</p> - -<p>The oppressive silence lasted until Mrs. Sharpe re-entered with some -needle-work. Then Mr. Ingelow rose and looked at his watch.</p> - -<p>"I believe I'll take a stroll down Broadway," he said, a little coldly. -"Your friend Miriam will probably be here before I return. If not, there -are books yonder with which to beguile the time."</p> - -<p>Mollie bowed, proudly silent, and Mr. Ingelow left the room for his -morning constitutional. Miss Dane walked over, took a book, opened it, -and held it before her face a full hour without turning a leaf. The face -it screened looked darkly bitter and overcast. She was free from prison, -only to find herself in a worse captivity—fettered by a love that could -meet with no return.</p> - -<p>The bright morning wore on; noon came. Two o'clock brought dinner and -Mr. Ingelow, breezy from his walk.</p> - -<p>"What!" he exclaimed, looking round, "no Miriam?"</p> - -<p>"No Miriam," said Mollie, laying down her book. "Mrs. Sharpe and I have -been quite alone—she sewing, I reading."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sharpe smiled to herself. She had been watching the young lady, and -surmised how much she had read.</p> - -<p>"Why, that's odd, too," Mr. Ingelow said. "She promised to be here this -morning, and Miriam keeps her promises, I think. However, the afternoon -may bring her. And now for dinner, mesdames."</p> - -<p>But the afternoon did not bring her. The hours wore on—Mr. Ingelow -at his easel, Mollie with her book, Susan Sharpe with her needle, -conversation desultory and lagging.</p> - -<p>Since the morning a restraint had fallen between the knight-errant and -the rescued lady—a restraint Mollie saw clearly enough, but could not -properly understand.</p> - -<p>Evening came. Twilight, hazy and blue, fell like a silvery veil over the -city, and the street-lamps twinkled through it like stars.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow in an inner room had made his toilet, and stood before -Mollie, hat in hand, ready to depart for the Walraven mansion.</p> - -<p>"Remain here another half hour," he was saying; "then follow and strike -the conspirators dumb. It will be better than a melodrama. I saw -Oleander to-day, and I know information of your escape has not yet -reached him. You had better enter the house by the most private -entrance, so that, all unknown, you can appear before us and scare -us out of a year's growth."</p> - -<p>"I know how to get in," said Mollie. "Trust me to play my part."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow departed, full of delightful anticipations of the fun to -come. He found all the guests assembled before him. It was quite a -select little family party, and Mr. Walraven and Sir Roger Trajenna -were in a state of despondent gloom that had become chronic of late.</p> - -<p>Mollie, the apple of their eye, their treasure, their darling, was not -present, and the whole universe held nothing to compensate them for her -loss.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven, superbly attired, and looking more like Queen Cleopatra -than ever, with, a circlet of red gold in her blue-black hair, and her -polished shoulders and arms gleaming like ivory against bronze in her -golden-brown silk, presided like an empress. She was quite radiant -to-night, and so was Dr. Guy. All their plans had succeeded admirably. -Mollie was absolutely in their power. This time to-morrow scores of -broad sea miles would roll between her and New York.</p> - -<p>The conversation turned upon her ere they had been a quarter of an hour -at table. Mr. Walraven never could leave the subject uppermost in his -thoughts for long.</p> - -<p>"It is altogether extraordinary," Sir Roger Trajenna said, slowly. -"The first absence was unaccountable enough, but this second is more -unaccountable still. Some enemy is at the bottom."</p> - -<p>"Surely Miss Dane could have no enemies," said Hugh Ingelow. "We all -know how amiable and lovable she was."</p> - -<p>"Lovable, certainly. We know that," remarked Sardonyx, with a grim -smile.</p> - -<p>"And I adhere to my former opinion," said Dr. Oleander, with consummate -coolness—"that Miss Mollie is playing tricks on her friends, to try -their affection. We know what a tricksy sprite she is. Believe me, both -absences were practical jokes. She has disappeared of her own free will. -It was very well in the Dark Ages—this abducting young ladies and -carrying them off to castle-keeps—but it won't do in New York, in the -present year of grace."</p> - -<p>"My opinion precisely, Guy," chimed in his fair cousin. "Mollie likes to -create sensations. Her first absence set the avenue on the <i>qui vive</i> -and made her a heroine, so she is resolved to try it again. If people -would be guided by me," glancing significantly at her husband, "they -would cease to worry themselves about her, and let her return at her own -good pleasure, as she went."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mr. Walraven," said Dr. Oleander, flushed and triumphant, "Blanche -is right. It is useless to trouble yourself so much about it. Of her own -accord she will come back, and you may safely swear of her own accord -she went."</p> - -<p>"Guy Oleander, you lie!"</p> - -<p>The voice rang silver-sweet, clear as a bugle-blast, through the room. -All sprung to their feet.</p> - -<p>"Ah-h-h-h-h!"</p> - -<p>The wordless cry of affright came from Mrs. Carl Walraven. Dr. Oleander -stood paralyzed, his eyes starting from their sockets, his face like the -face of a dead man.</p> - -<p>And there in the door-way, like a picture in a frame, like a Saxon -pythoness, her golden hair falling theatrically loose, her arm upraised, -her face pale, her eyes flashing, stood Mollie.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> - -<h3>MOLLIE'S TRIUMPH.</h3> - - -<p>The tableau was magnificent.</p> - -<p>There was a dead pause of unutterable consternation. All stood rooted to -the spot with staring eyes and open mouths. Before the first electric -charge had subsided, Mollie Dane advanced and walked straight up to the -confounded doctor, confronting him with eyes that literally blazed.</p> - -<p>"Liar! traitor! coward! Whose turn is it now?"</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander fairly gasped for breath. The awful suddenness of the blow -stunned him. He could not speak—he made the attempt, but his white lips -failed him.</p> - -<p>"Before all here," cried Mollie Dane, arm and hand still upraised with -an action indescribably grand, "I accuse you, Guy Oleander, of high -felony! I accuse you of forcibly tearing me from my home, of forcibly -holding me a prisoner for nearly two weeks, and of intending to carry me -off by force to-morrow to Cuba. And you, madame," turning suddenly as -lightning strikes upon Mrs. Carl, "you, madame, I accuse as his aider -and abettor."</p> - -<p>There was another horrible pause. Even Hugh Ingelow thrilled through -every vein.</p> - -<p>Then Carl Walraven found voice:</p> - -<p>"For God's sake, Mollie, what does this mean?"</p> - -<p>Mollie turned to him and held out both hands.</p> - -<p>"It means, guardy, that but for the direct interposition of Providence -you never would have seen your poor little Cricket again."</p> - -<p>And at last Dr. Oleander found his voice.</p> - -<p>"That infernal nurse!" he cried between his set teeth. Mollie heard the -hissing words and turned upon him like a pale little fury.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Guy Oleander, the nurse played you false—fooled you to your face -from the first. Came down from New York for no other purpose than to -rescue me. And here I am, safe and sound, in spite of you; and the -tables are turned, and you are in my power now. Out of this house you -never stir except to go to prison."</p> - -<p>"Mollie! Mollie! Mollie!" Mr. Carl Walraven cried in desperation, "for -the Lord's sake, what do you mean? What has Doctor Oleander done?"</p> - -<p>"Carried me off, I tell you—forcibly abducted me. Held me a prisoner -for the last two weeks in a desolate old farmhouse over on Long -Island. Look at him. Was ever guilt more plainly written on human face? -Let him deny it if he can—or you, madame, his accomplice, either."</p> - -<p>"I do deny it," Mme. Blanche exclaimed, boldly. "Mollie Dane, you are -mad."</p> - -<p>"You will find to your cost there is method in my madness, Mrs. -Walraven. What say you, Doctor Oleander? Have you the hardihood to -face me with a deliberate lie, too?"</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander was not deficient in a certain dog-like courage and daring. -He saw his position in a moment—saw that denial would be utterly -useless. His own mother would prove against him it if came to law.</p> - -<p>There was but one avenue of escape for him—he saw it like a flash of -light. Mollie would not dare publish this story of hers for her own -sake, and neither would Carl Walraven for his wife's.</p> - -<p>"He does not deny it!" cried Mollie. "He dare not. Look at his changing -face. He carried me off and held me a prisoner in his mother's house, -and gave out I was mad. And that is not the worst he has done. I might -overlook that, now that I have safely escaped—"</p> - -<p>Dr. Oleander suddenly interrupted her.</p> - -<p>"That is the very worst—and you dare not publish it, even to punish -me."</p> - -<p>"What!" exclaimed the young lady, "do you deny your other tenfold -greater crime—the compulsory marriage performed by the Reverend Raymond -Rashleigh? Oh, if there be law or justice in the whole country, you -shall suffer for that!"</p> - -<p>"I do deny it," said the doctor, boldly. "You are no wife of mine by -compulsion or otherwise. That story was trumped up to deceive you the -second time."</p> - -<p>Mollie's heart gave one great throb, and then seemed to stand still.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walraven turned, ghastly with fear and rage, upon her cousin.</p> - -<p>"Guy Oleander, are you mad? What are you saying?"</p> - -<p>"The truth, Blanche. It is too late for any other alternative now. Don't -fear—Mr. Walraven will hardly allow his ward to prosecute his wife."</p> - -<p>"Traitor and coward!" Blanche Walraven cried in fierce scorn. "I wish my -tongue had blistered with the words that urged you on."</p> - -<p>"I wish it had," returned the doctor, coolly. "I wish, as I often have -wished since, that I had never listened to your tempting. It was your -fault, not mine, from first to last."</p> - -<p>It was the old story of Adam and Eve over again: "The woman tempted me, -and I did eat."</p> - -<p>"'When rogues fall out, honest men get their own.' You mean to say, -Doctor Oleander, that Mrs. Walraven instigated you on?"</p> - -<p>"How else should I know?" answered the doctor. "She overheard you -telling the woman Miriam, in your chamber, the whole story. She saw and -understood your advertisement and its answer. She concocted the whole -scheme, even to advancing the hands of your watch half an hour. If the -law punishes me, Miss Dane, it must also punish your guardian's wife."</p> - -<p>"Coward! coward!" Blanche furiously cried. "Oh, basest of the base! If I -only had the power to strike you dead at my feet!"</p> - -<p>The doctor bore the onslaught quietly enough.</p> - -<p>"Heroics are all very well, Blanche," he said; "but self-preservation is -the first law of nature. Confession is the only avenue of escape, and I -have taken it. Besides, justice is justice. You deserve it. You goaded -me on. It was your fault from beginning to end."</p> - -<p>"And you own, then, you are not the man who carried me off before?" said -Mollie. "You are not the man Mr. Rashleigh married?"</p> - -<p>"I swear I'm not!" cried the doctor, with an earnestness there was no -mistaking. "And I'm very thankful I'm not. I wouldn't lead the life I've -led for the past two weeks for all the women alive. I'm glad you're -here, and that the whole thing is knocked in the head."</p> - -<p>He spoke with the dogged recklessness of a man goaded to desperation. -Mollie turned again to her guardian and laid her face on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Send that man away, guardy. His presence in the room turns me sick to -death."</p> - -<p>"I am going, Miss Dane," said Dr. Oleander, turning moodily to the door, -"and I shall not go to Cuba. I shall not quit New York. Let you or your -guardian prosecute me if you dare!"</p> - -<p>He stalked out with the last words. No one moved or spoke until the -house-door banged after him.</p> - -<p>Then Mme. Blanche, seeing all was lost, gave one horrible scream, -clasped her hands over her head, and fell back in violent hysterics.</p> - -<p>"Ring for her maid, guardy," said Mollie. "You had best take her up to -her room. Sir Roger, Mr. Ingelow, please to remain. Mr. Sardonyx, excuse -me, but you have heard all that it is necessary you should hear."</p> - -<p>The lawyer became angry-red, but turned at once to go.</p> - -<p>"I have no wish to pry into your very extraordinary secrets or -escapades, Miss Dane," he said, haughtily. "Permit me to wish you -good-evening."</p> - -<p>Mr. Sardonyx departed. Mr. Walraven saw his wife safely conveyed to -her room and left in charge of her maid, and then returned to the -dining-room.</p> - -<p>Mollie's first act was to hold out both hands, with infinite grace and -courtesy, to Hugh Ingelow.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow, words are poor and weak to tell you how I thank you. I -have not deserved it from you. I can only ask you to try and forgive -me."</p> - -<p>The young artist lifted the fair little hands to his lips.</p> - -<p>"I am repaid ten thousand-fold," he said, quietly. "I would give my life -to serve you."</p> - -<p>"In the name of Heaven, Mollie," cried the nearly frantic master of the -house, "what does all this extraordinary mystery mean?"</p> - -<p>"It means that a terrible crime has been committed, guardy," Mollie -replied, gravely, "and that your wife and her cousin are among the chief -conspirators. Sit down and I will tell you the whole story. Sir Roger -Trajenna, likewise. I owe you both a full explanation. Mr. Ingelow -knows already."</p> - -<p>She sat down before them, and beginning at the beginning, told them the -whole story—her forced and mysterious marriage and its very unpleasant -sequel.</p> - -<p>"That I ever escaped," she concluded, "I owe, under Providence, to Mr. -Ingelow. Guardy, I would have spared you if I could; but, you see, it -was impossible. Of course, we won't prosecute your wife or her cousin. -I am almost satisfied, now, that I know I am not Guy Oleander's wretched -wife."</p> - -<p>"But, heavens above, Mollie Dane!" cried the bewildered Mr. Walraven, -"whose wife are you?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, guardy, I would give a great deal to know that."</p> - -<p>"Whom do you suspect?"</p> - -<p>"I suspect no one now."</p> - -<p>There was a shade of sadness in her tone, and her eyes wandered -wistfully over to the young artist.</p> - -<p>"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Walraven, "I never heard or read of -the like. It's perfectly astounding. Did you ever hear anything so -extraordinary, Sir Roger?"</p> - -<p>The baronet had been sitting like a man stunned by a blow. Now he turned -his eyes from Mollie's for the first time, and tried to speak.</p> - -<p>"I am utterly bewildered," he said. "The whole story sounds like an -impossibility—incredible as a fairy tale."</p> - -<p>"It is quite true, nevertheless," said Mollie.</p> - -<p>"And you are a wedded wife?"</p> - -<p>"I am."</p> - -<p>"You're nothing of the sort!" burst out Carl Walraven. "You're -free—free as air. It would be outrageous, it would be monstrous, to let -such a marriage bind you. You are free to wed to-morrow if you choose; -and let the villain come forward and dispute the marriage if he dare!"</p> - -<p>"He speaks the truth," said Sir Roger, eagerly. "Such a marriage is no -marriage. You are as free as you were before, Mollie."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps so," said Mollie, calmly. "Nevertheless, I shall never marry."</p> - -<p>"Never?"</p> - -<p>It was Sir Roger's despairing voice.</p> - -<p>"Never, Sir Roger. I never was worthy of you. I would be the basest -of the base to marry you now. No; what I am to-night I will go to my -grave."</p> - -<p>She stole a glance at Hugh Ingelow, but the sphinx was never more -unreadable than he. He caught her glance, however, and calmly spoke.</p> - -<p>"And now, as Miss Mollie has had a fatiguing journey lately, and as she -needs rest, we had better allow her to retire. Good-night."</p> - -<p>He had bowed and reached the door ere the voice of Carl Walraven -arrested him.</p> - -<p>"This very unpleasant business, Mr. Ingelow—Sir Roger," he said, with -evident embarrassment, "in which Mrs. Walraven is concerned—"</p> - -<p>"Will be as though it had never been, Mr. Walraven," Hugh Ingelow said, -gravely. "Once more—good-night."</p> - -<p>He quitted the room.</p> - -<p>Sir Roger Trajenna turned to follow, a sad, crushed old man.</p> - -<p>Mollie shyly and wistfully held out her hand.</p> - -<p>"Try and forget me, Sir Roger—try and forgive me. I have been a -foolish, flighty girl; I am sorry for it. I can say no more."</p> - -<p>"No more!" Sir Roger said, with emotion, kissing the little hand. "God -bless you!"</p> - -<p>He, too, was gone.</p> - -<p>Then Mollie turned and put her arms round her guardian's neck.</p> - -<p>"Dear old guardy, I am sorry for you. Oh, I wish you had never married -that hateful Blanche Oleander, but lived free and happy with your mother -and your Mollie. But it's too late now; you must forgive her, I suppose. -I detest her like the mischief; but we must all keep the peace."</p> - -<p>"I suppose so, Mollie," with a dreary sigh. "You can't wish I had never -married more than I do. It's a righteous punishment upon me, I suppose. -I've been the greatest villain unhung to the only woman who ever did -love me, and now this is retribution."</p> - -<p>He groaned dismally as he rose and kissed Mollie good-night.</p> - -<p>"Go to your room, Mollie, and let us forget, if we can."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Mollie, "if we can. Guardy, good-night."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> - -<h3>MIRIAM'S MESSAGE.</h3> - - -<p>Next morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Walraven did not appear. She was very -ill and feverish, her maid reported, and quite unable to leave her bed.</p> - -<p>Mr. Carl Walraven heard this sad account of his wife's health with a -grimly fixed countenance. He looked as though he had passed a restless -night himself, and looked worn and haggard and hollow-eyed in the bright -morning sunshine.</p> - -<p>Mollie, on the other hand, was blooming and brilliant as the goddess -Hebe. Past troubles sat lightly on buoyant Mollie as dew-drops on a -rose. She looked rather anxiously at her guardian as the girl quitted -the breakfast-room.</p> - -<p>"You didn't mention Blanche's illness, guardy. Tea or chocolate this -morning?"</p> - -<p>"A cup of tea. I didn't mention her illness because I wasn't aware of -it. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing Madame Blanche since we parted -in the dining-room last night."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Mollie, stirring her chocolate slowly.</p> - -<p>"And what's more," pursued the master of the house, "I don't care if I -never see her again."</p> - -<p>"Dear me, guardy! Strong language, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"It is truthful language, Mollie. Sleeping on a thing sometimes alters -its complexion materially. Last evening I concluded to let things blow -over and keep up appearances before the world. This morning I am -resolved to let the world go hang, and teach one of the conspirators -a lesson she won't forget in a hurry."</p> - -<p>Mollie looked alarmed.</p> - -<p>"Not a divorce, guardy? Surely not the public scandal of a divorce? All -must come out then."</p> - -<p>"Not quite a divorce," Mr. Walraven said, coolly; "its next-door -neighbor. A quiet, gentlemanly, and lady-like separation."</p> - -<p>"Guardy Walraven," said Miss Dane, solemnly, "don't do anything rash."</p> - -<p>"I don't intend to. I've thought the matter well over. Didn't get a wink -of sleep last night for it. We won't break our hearts"—with a cynical -sneer—"myself nor my gentle Blanche. I don't know why we married, -exactly. Certainly not for love, and we will part without a pang."</p> - -<p>"Speak for yourself, guardy. I dare say Blanche will be frantic."</p> - -<p>"Frantic at leaving a house on Fifth Avenue—frantic at leaving you -mistress in her place—frantic that she can't be my blooming young -widow—frantic at all that, I grant you."</p> - -<p>"Guardy, don't be dreadful," adjured Mollie, pathetically. "If I can -forgive Blanche, I'm sure you may."</p> - -<p>"No, Mollie, I can not. She has deceived me basely, wickedly. More—I -dare not."</p> - -<p>"Dare not. Now, Mr. Walraven—"</p> - -<p>"Hear me out, Mollie. A woman who would concoct such a villainous plot -would stop at nothing. Abduction would be followed by murder. I would -not trust her from henceforth on her Bible oath. My life is not safe -while she remains in this house."</p> - -<p>"Guardy! guardy! how can you say such horrible things? Commit murder? -You know very well she would not dare."</p> - -<p>"Wives dare it every week if the public journals speak the truth. I tell -you I would not trust her. There is Guy Oleander, a toxicologist by -profession—what more easy than for him to supply her with some subtle -drug, and call it catalepsy, a congestion, a disease of the heart? I -tell you, Mollie, after finding them out, my life would not be worth a -fillip in their hands. I could as easily live with a female gorilla as -with Blanche Oleander."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Mollie, looking a little startled, "if you feel like that, -of course—When do you propose—"</p> - -<p>She paused.</p> - -<p>"I shall lose no time. I shall see Mrs. Walraven immediately after -breakfast."</p> - -<p>"But she is ill."</p> - -<p>"Bosh! She's shamming. She's afraid to show her wicked, plotting face. -She's lying there to concoct some new villainy. I won't spare her—she -didn't spare you. I'll send her packing, bag and baggage, before the -week's out."</p> - -<p>"And if she refuses to go, guardy?"</p> - -<p>"Then," cried Mr. Walraven, with flashing eyes, "I'll make her go. I'll -have a divorce, by Heaven! She'll find she can't commit high felonies in -this enlightened age and go unpunished. I'd see her boiled alive before -I'd ever live with her again."</p> - -<p>With which spirited declaration Mr. Walraven finished his breakfast and -arose. His first proceeding was to ring the bell violently. One of the -kitchen damsels answered.</p> - -<p>"Go to Mrs. Walraven's room and tell her Mr. Walraven is coming to see -her."</p> - -<p>The girl, looking rather surprised, hastened to obey.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven took a turn or two up and down the room, "nursing his wrath -to keep it warm."</p> - -<p>"The more I think of this infernal business, Mollie," he burst out, "the -more enraged I get. If Doctor Oleander was so madly in love with you -that he carried you off to prevent your marrying any one else, one -might find some excuse for him. Love, we all know, is a 'short-lived -madness.' But for her, a woman, to invent that diabolical scheme in cold -blood, simply because she hated you! Oh, it was the work of an accursed -harridan, and never to be forgiven!"</p> - -<p>He strode from the room as he spoke, his face and eyes aflame, and -stalked straight to the sleeping-room of Mme. Blanche. One loud rap; -then, before the attendant could open it he had flung it wide, and he -was standing, stern as Rhadamauthus, above the cowering woman in the bed.</p> - -<p>"Do you leave the room!" he exclaimed, turning savagely upon the girl; -"and mind, no eavesdropping, if you have any regard for whole bones. Be -off!"</p> - -<p>The frightened girl scampered at once. Mr. Walraven closed the door, -locked it, strode back, and stood glaring down upon his wife with folded -arms and fiercely shining eyes.</p> - -<p>"Well, madame?"</p> - -<p>"Spare me, Carl." She held up her arms in dire affright. "Forgive me, my -husband."</p> - -<p>"Never!" thundered Carl Walraven—"never! you base, plotting Jezebel! -The fate you allotted to Mollie Dane shall fall upon yourself. You shall -quit this house before the week ends, never to return to it more."</p> - -<p>"Carl! Husband—"</p> - -<p>"Silence, madame! No husband of yours, either now or at any future time! -This shall be our last interview. We part to-day to meet no more."</p> - -<p>"Carl! Carl! for pity's sake, hear me."</p> - -<p>"Not a word, not a syllable. All the excuses in the world would not -excuse you. I never loved you—now I hate you. After this hour I never -want to look upon your wicked white face again."</p> - -<p>Blanche Walraven's spirit rose with the insult. She flung down the -clothes and sat erect in bed, her black eyes flashing.</p> - -<p>"Be it so! You never loved me less than I did you! You can not hate me -more than I hate you! But, for all that, I won't go!"</p> - -<p>"You shall go—and that within this week!"</p> - -<p>"I tell you I won't! I dare you! Do your worst!"</p> - -<p>"Do you, madame? Then, by Heaven, I accept your challenge! The law of -divorce shall set me free from the vilest wife man ever was cursed with!"</p> - -<p>She gave a gasping cry, her face ghastly white.</p> - -<p>"Carl Walraven, you would not dare!"</p> - -<p>"Would I not?" with a harsh laugh. "We shall see. You don't know what -Carl Walraven is capable of yet, I see."</p> - -<p>"Wait! wait! wait!" Blanche screamed after him, in mortal terror. "Tell -me what you came here to propose."</p> - -<p>"A separation, madame—quietly, without <i>éclat</i> or public scandal. -Accept or refuse, as you please."</p> - -<p>"What are your terms?" sullenly.</p> - -<p>"More liberal than you deserve. An annuity larger than anything you ever -had before you married me, a house up the Hudson, and your promise never -to return to New York. With my death, the annuity will cease, and you -will be penniless. I don't choose to be put out of the way by you or -your poisoning cousin."</p> - -<p>Blanche Walraven's eyes flashed fury.</p> - -<p>"You are a merciless, iron-hearted man, Carl Walraven, and I hate you! -I close with your terms, because I can not help myself; but I'll have -revenge yet!"</p> - -<p>"And the very first attempt you make," said Mr. Walraven, coolly, "I'll -hand you over to the law as I would the commonest vagrant that prowls -the streets. Don't think to intimidate me, my lady, with your tragedy -airs and fiery glances. Mr. Sardonyx will wait upon you this afternoon. -If you can make it convenient to leave to-morrow, you will very much -oblige me."</p> - -<p>His last words were almost lost. Mrs. Walraven, with a hysterical -scream, had fallen back among the pillows in strong convulsions. He just -stopped to give one backward glance of pitiless loathing, then rang for -her maid and left the room.</p> - -<p>And so parted the ill-assorted husband and wife to meet no more. So -ended one mercenary marriage.</p> - -<p>Carl Walraven went down-stairs, and found Mollie uneasily awaiting him.</p> - -<p>"It's all settled, Mollie," he said. "You are the little mistress of the -house from this day forward, until"—looking at her earnestly—"you get -married."</p> - -<p>Mollie reddened and shook her head.</p> - -<p>"I shall never get married, guardy."</p> - -<p>"No? Not even to Hugh Ingelow?"</p> - -<p>"Least of all to Hugh Ingelow. Don't let us talk about it, guardy. What -did Mrs. Walraven say?"</p> - -<p>"More than I care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk about Mrs. Walraven, -either."</p> - -<p>"But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?"</p> - -<p>"I really and truly am. She goes to-morrow. Now, Mollie Dane, there's -no need for you to wear that pleading face. She goes—that's flat! I -wouldn't live in the same house with her now for a kingdom. If you say -another word about it we'll quarrel."</p> - -<p>He strode off like a sulky lion, and Mollie, feeling as though it were -all her fault, was left disconsolate and uncomfortable enough.</p> - -<p>"I had rather they had made it up," she thought. "I don't want to be the -cause of parting man and wife. She behaved atrociously, no doubt, and -deserves punishment; but I wish the punishment had fallen on the man, -not the woman. It's a shame to make her suffer and let that horrible -doctor off scot-free."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven, in his study, meantime, had written a letter to Lawyer -Sardonyx, detailing in brief his wishes, and requesting him to call upon -Mrs. Walraven in the course of the day. That done, he quitted the house, -determined to return no more until she had left.</p> - -<p>The afternoon brought Hugh Ingelow. Mollie was alone in her room, having -a very anxious time; but when his name was announced, she dropped the -book she was trying to read and made a headlong rush down-stairs. If -Hugh Ingelow had seen the rosy light that leaped into her cheeks, the -glad sparkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, he could -hardly have been insensible to their flattering import.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow congratulated her on her bright looks as he shook hands.</p> - -<p>"I never saw you looking better," he said, with earnest admiration.</p> - -<p>"Looks are deceitful, then," said Mollie, shaking her early head -dolefully. "I don't think I ever felt worse, even when cooped up in -Doctor Oleander's prison."</p> - -<p>"Really! What has gone wrong now?" the artist inquired.</p> - -<p>"Everything dreadful! The most shocking tempests in tea-pots. Guardy is -going to separate from his wife!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "The very best thing he could do."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Mr. Ingelow!"</p> - -<p>"Quite true, Mollie. She's a Tartar, if ever there was a Tartar. He -committed a terrible act of folly when he married her; let him show his -return to wisdom by sending her adrift. I don't pity her in the least. -If he forgave her this time, she would simply despise him, and begin her -machinations all over again."</p> - -<p>"No! Do you think so? Then I'm not to blame?"</p> - -<p>"You!" Mr. Ingelow laughed. "I should think not, indeed! Set that tender -little heart of yours at rest, Mollie. Blanche Walraven is big and -fierce, and able to take care of herself. Let us get rid of her -quietly; if we can, and be thankful."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Sardonyx is with her now," said Mollie, "arranging matters. Oh, -dear! I can't help feeling nervous and troubled about it. It's not fair -to punish her and let Doctor Oleander go off scot-free."</p> - -<p>"His punishment is his detection and your loss, Mollie. I can think of -no heavier punishment than that. I met him, by the bye, in Broadway, as -large as life, and as impudent as the gentleman with the cloven foot. He -bowed, and I stared, and cut him dead, of course."</p> - -<p>Before Mollie could speak, the door-bell rang. A moment later and there -was the sound of an altercation in the hall.</p> - -<p>"You can't see Miss Dane, you ragamuffin!" exclaimed the mellifluous -tones of footman Wilson. "You hadn't oughter ring the door-bell! The -airy's for such as you!"</p> - -<p>"It is Miriam!" cried Mollie, running to the door. "It is surely Miriam -at last!"</p> - -<p>But it was not Miriam. It was a dirty-faced boy—a tatter-demalion of -fourteen years—with sharp, knowing black eyes. Those intelligent orbs -fixed on the young lady at once.</p> - -<p>"Be you Miss Dane—Miss Mollie Dane—miss?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mollie. "Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"Sammy Slimmens, miss. Miss Miriam sent me, miss—she did."</p> - -<p>"Miriam? Are you sure? Why didn't she come herself?"</p> - -<p>"Couldn't, miss," nodding sagaciously. "She's very bad, she is. Got -runned over, miss."</p> - -<p>"Run over!" Mollie cried, in horror.</p> - -<p>"Corner Fulton Street, miss, and Broadway. Yesterday morning 'twas. I -told the policeman where she lived, and he fetched her home. Won't live, -they say, and she's sent for you. Got something very 'ticular to tell -you, miss."</p> - -<p>"I will go at once," Mollie said, unutterably distressed. "My poor -Miriam! I might have known something had happened, or she would have -been here before this."</p> - -<p>She flew upstairs and was back again, dressed for the street, in ten -minutes.</p> - -<p>"Permit me to accompany you, Miss Dane," said Hugh Ingelow, stepping -forward. "You have been entrapped before. We will be on our guard this -time. Now, my man," to the hero of the rags and tatters, "lead on; we -follow."</p> - -<p>The boy darted away, and Mr. Ingelow with Mollie's hand drawn through -his arm, set off after him at a rapid rate.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> - -<h3>MIRIAM'S STORY.</h3> - - -<p>A miserable attic chamber, dimly lighted by one dirty sky-light, a -miserable bed in one corner, a broken chair, an old wooden chest, a -rickety table, a few articles of delf, a tumble-down little cook-stove.</p> - -<p>That was the picture Mollie Dane saw, standing on the threshold of -Miriam's room.</p> - -<p>There was no deception this time. On that wretched bed lay the broken -and bruised figure of the woman Miriam, dying.</p> - -<p>Her deep, labored breathing was painfully audible, even outside the -room; her strong chest rose and fell—every breath torture.</p> - -<p>By her side sat the mother of the ragged boy, holding a drink to her -lips, and coaxing her to open her mouth and try to swallow.</p> - -<p>In vivid contrast to all this poverty and abject wretchedness, the young -girl in the door-way stood, with her fair, blooming face, her fluttering -golden ringlets, her rich silken garments, and elegant air.</p> - -<p>The woman by the bed turned round and stared for a moment; then—</p> - -<p>"Be you the young lady as Mrs. Miriam sent my Sammy for?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mollie, coming forward. "How is she?"</p> - -<p>"Bad as bad can be, miss. Won't never see another day, the doctor says."</p> - -<p>"My poor Miriam—my poor Miriam!"</p> - -<p>The slow tears gathered in her eyes as she bent above her and saw the -pinched, sharpened face, with the blue tinge of coming death already -dawning there.</p> - -<p>"Be you a relation?" the woman asked, curiously. But Mollie did not -answer—she was stooping over the sick woman, absorbed.</p> - -<p>"Miriam!" she said, softly, taking the skinny hand in both her -own—"Miriam, look up! Speak to me. It is I—your own Mollie."</p> - -<p>The sound of that beloved voice penetrated the death fog already -blurring every faculty. The dulled eyes opened with a sudden, joyful -light of recognition.</p> - -<p>"Mollie," she said, "my dear little Mollie. I knew you would come."</p> - -<p>"I am very, very sorry to see you like this, Miriam. Do you suffer much -pain?"</p> - -<p>"Not now—only a dull aching from head to foot. But even that will soon -be over. I am glad. My life has been nothing for the past sixteen years -but one long torment. I am glad it is so nearly done. Mollie," fixing -her haggard eyes solemnly on her face, "you know I will never see -another sunrise."</p> - -<p>"My poor, poor Miriam!"</p> - -<p>"Are you sorry for poor Miriam, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Sorrier than sorry! What other relative have I in the wide world but -you?"</p> - -<p>"Not one, Mollie. But I am a relative you need hardly grieve for. I have -been a bad, cruel woman—the worst woman that ever lived to you, my poor -little girl!"</p> - -<p>"Miriam!"</p> - -<p>"Ah! don't look at me with those innocent, wondering blue eyes! You -shall know all. I can't die with my story untold, my secret unrevealed. -Mrs. Slimmens, I have something very particular to say to this young -lady. Please to leave us alone."</p> - -<p>The woman, with a disappointed look, rose up and quitted the room.</p> - -<p>Mollie drew up the only chair and seated herself by the bedside.</p> - -<p>"Did you come here alone?" was Miriam's first question, when they were -together.</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie, coloring slightly. "Mr. Ingelow came with me. He is -waiting below."</p> - -<p>"That is well. It is growing late, and the neighborhood is not a good -one. He saved you, did he not?"</p> - -<p>"He did. I owe him my life—my liberty."</p> - -<p>"I knew he would—I knew he would! I trusted him from the first Mollie, -do you know why I sent for you in my dying hour?"</p> - -<p>"To tell me who I am."</p> - -<p>"Yes—you would like to know?"</p> - -<p>"More than anything else in the wide world."</p> - -<p>"And have you no idea—no suspicion?"</p> - -<p>Mollie hesitated.</p> - -<p>"I have sometimes thought," reddening painfully, "that I might be Mr. -Walraven's daughter."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Miriam, her eyes lighting; "and he thinks so, too!"</p> - -<p>"Miriam!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Miriam, exultingly, "he thinks so—he believes so, and so -does his wife. But for all that, not one drop of his blood flows in your -veins!"</p> - -<p>"Miriam!"</p> - -<p>"Not one drop! If there did, you should not now be standing by my death -bed. I would expire unrepenting and unconfessed. Mollie, you are -mine—my very own—my daughter!"</p> - -<p>She raised herself on her elbow and caught Mollie in her arms with a -sudden, fierce strength. The girl stood perfectly speechless with the -shock.</p> - -<p>"My child—my child—my child! For years I have hungered and thirsted -for this hour. I have desired it as the blind desire sight. My child—my -child! have you no word for your dying mother?"</p> - -<p>"Mother!"</p> - -<p>The word broke from Mollie's white lips like a sobbing sigh. The intense -surprise of the unexpected revelation stunned her.</p> - -<p>"You believe me, then—you do believe me!" Miriam cried, holding her -fast.</p> - -<p>"You are dying," was Mollie's solemn answer. "Oh, my mother! why did you -not tell me this before?"</p> - -<p>"Because I would not disgrace you and drag you down. I loved you far too -well for that. I could have done nothing for you but bespatter you with -the mire in which I wallowed, and I wanted you, my beautiful one—my -pearl, my lily—to be spotless as mountain snow. It can do you no harm -to know when I am dead."</p> - -<p>"And Carl Walraven is nothing to me?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, Mollie—less than nothing. Not one drop of his black blood -flows in your veins. Are you sorry, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie, drawing a long breath. "No!" she repeated, more -decidedly. "I am glad, Miriam—mother."</p> - -<p>"You can call me mother, then, despite all?"</p> - -<p>"Surely," Mollie said, gravely; "and now tell me all."</p> - -<p>"Ah, it is a long, sad story—a wicked and miserable story of shame, and -sin, and suffering! It is a cruel thing to blight your young life with -the record of such horrible things."</p> - -<p>"I may surely bear what others have to endure. But, Miriam, before you -begin, do you really mean to tell me Mr. Walraven thinks me his -daughter?"</p> - -<p>"He believes it as surely as he believes in Heaven. He thinks you are -his child—Mary Dane's daughter."</p> - -<p>"Who was Mary Dane?"</p> - -<p>"Your father's sister by marriage—done to death by Carl Walraven."</p> - -<p>Mollie turned very pale.</p> - -<p>"Tell me all," she said. "Begin at the beginning. Here, drink this—it -is wine."</p> - -<p>She had brought a pocket-flask with her. She filled a broken tea-cup and -held it to the dry, parched lips.</p> - -<p>Miriam drained it eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" she said, "that is new life! Sit down here by me, Mollie, where I -can see you; give me your hands. Now listen:</p> - -<p>"Mollie, you are eighteen years old, though neither you nor Carl -Walraven thinks so. You are eighteen this very month. His child, whom -he thinks you are, would be almost seventeen, if alive. She died when -a babe of two years old.</p> - -<p>"Eighteen years ago, Mollie, I was a happy wife and mother. Down in -Devonshire, in the little village of Steeple Hill, my husband and I -lived, where we had both been born, where we had courted and married, -where we hoped to lay our bones at last. Alas and alas! he fills a -bloody grave in the land of strangers, and I am drawing my last breath -in far America. And all, Mollie—all owing to Carl Walraven."</p> - -<p>She paused a moment. The girl held the cup of wine to her lips. A few -swallows revived her, and enabled her to go on.</p> - -<p>"There were two brothers, James and Stephen Dane. James, the elder by -six years, was my husband and your father. We lived in the old Dane -homestead—we three—a happy and prosperous household. We needed but -your coming, my daughter, to fill our cup of joy to the very brim. No -woman in all broad England was a happier wife and mother than Miriam -Dane when you were laid upon my breast.</p> - -<p>"We named our baby-girl Miriam—your father would have it so—and you -grew healthful and beautiful, fair and blue-eyed, as it is in the nature -of the Danes to be. I was glad you had not my black eyes and gypsy skin. -I think I loved you all the more because you were your father's image.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Mollie, I never can tell you what a blessed, peaceful household -we were until you were three months old! Then the first change took -place—Stephen Dane got married.</p> - -<p>"At Wortley Manor, just without the confines of Steeple Hill, lived Sir -John Wortley and his lady. They had come to spend the hot months down in -the country, and my lady had brought with her a London lady's-maid, full -of London airs and graces, styles and fashions. She was a pretty girl, -this buxom Mary Linton, with flaxen curls, and light blue eyes, and a -skin white as milk and soft as satin. She could sing like an angel, and -dance like a fairy, and dress and talk like my lady herself.</p> - -<p>"Of course, before she had been a month in the place, she had turned the -heads of all the young fellows in the village, Stephen Dane's among the -rest. But while she coquetted with all, she smiled most sweetly on -Stephen, with his three hundred pounds laid by in bank, his broad -shoulders, his lofty stature and his hearty looks. Three months after -she came to Wortley Manor, she was Stephen Dane's wife.</p> - -<p>"That marriage was the beginning of all the trouble, Mollie. They left -the farm, this young pair, and set up a public-house. A public suited -Mary Dane to the life. She flaunted in gay dresses and bright ribbons, -and gossiped over the bar with the customers, and had all the news of -the place put at her tongue's end. And Stephen, he took to drink—a -little, at first, to be jovial with the customers; more and more -gradually, until, at the end of the honey-moon, he was half his time -on the fuddle. And Mary Dane didn't care. She laughed in her pretty -way when people talked.</p> - -<p>"'Let him take his glass, Mariam,' says she to me. 'He's fonder of me in -his cups, and better-natured every way, than when he's sober. As long as -my man doesn't beat me and pull the house about our heads, I'll never -say him nay.'</p> - -<p>"It was near the end of the second month that a sick traveler stopped -at the Wortley Arms—so they called the inn—and lay very ill there for -weeks and weeks. He had taken cold and got a fever, and he was very -poorly and like to die. Mary Dane, with all her airy ways, had a tender -heart and a soft head, and she turned to and nursed the sick man like a -sister. They took such care of him at the Wortley Arms that he got well, -and in three weeks was able to be up and about.</p> - -<p>"This strange gentleman gave the name of Mr. Walls; and he was young and -handsome, and very rich. He spent money like water; he paid the doctor -and the landlord and the nurses as if he had been a prince. He had a -pleasant word and jest for every one. He was hand and glove with Stephen -Dane, and heaped presents on presents on his wife. He gave her silk -dresses and gold rings and costly shawls and gay bonnets until people -began to talk. What did he care for their talk? what did Mary Dane, -either? He lingered and lingered. The talking grew louder, until, at -last, it reached the ears of Stephen Dane. He took it quietly. 'It's -mighty dull for the likes of you here, Mr. Walls,' he says to the -gentleman, looking him full in the eye. 'It's no place for a young -gentleman, in my notion. I think you had better be going.'</p> - -<p>"'Do you?' says Mr. Walls, back again, as cool as himself. 'You are -right, I dare say. I'll settle my bill to-night and be off to-morrow.'</p> - -<p>"He did settle his bill at the bar before they parted, took a last glass -with Stephen Dane, and walked up to his room, whistling. Steeple Hill -never saw him more. When morning came he was far away, and Mary Dane -with him."</p> - -<p>Again Miriam paused; again Mollie held the wine-cup to her lips; again -she drank and went on:</p> - -<p>"I couldn't tell you, Mollie, if I would, the shock and the scandal that -ran through Steeple Hill, and I wouldn't if I could. If it were in my -power, such horrors would never reach your innocent ears. But they were -gone, and Stephen Dane was like a man mad. He drank, and drank, and -drank until he was blind drunk, and then, in spite of everybody, set off -to go after them. Before he had got ten yards from his own doorstep he -fell down in a fit, blood pouring from his month and nostrils. That -night he died.</p> - -<p>"The hour of his death, when he knew he had but a few moments to live, -he turned every soul out of the room, and made his brother kneel down -and take a solemn oath of vengeance.</p> - -<p>"'I'll never rest easy in my grave, James,' said the dying man, 'and -I'll never let you rest easy in your life, until you have avenged me -on my wronger.'</p> - -<p>"Your father knelt down and swore. It was a bad, bad death-bed, and a -bad, bad oath. But he took it; and Stephen Dane died, with his brother's -hand clasped in his, and his dying eyes fixed on his brother's face.</p> - -<p>"They buried the dead man; and when the sods were piled above him, your -father told me of the vow he had made—the vow he meant to keep. What -could I say? what could I do? I wept woman's tears, I said woman's words. -I pleaded, I reasoned, I entreated—all in vain. He would go, and he -went.</p> - -<p>"He followed the guilty pair, like a blood-hound, for weary months and -months. For a long time it seemed as though he must give up the search -as fruitless; but at last, in the open street of a French city, he met -the man Walls face to face. He flew at him like a madman, grasped his -throat, and held him until the man turned black in the face. But he was -lithe, and young, and powerful, and he shook him off at last. Then -commenced a struggle for life or death. The street was a lonely one; the -time past midnight. No one was abroad; not a creature was to be seen. -Walls pulled out a pistol and shot James Dane through the head. With a -cry of agony, the murdered man fell forward on his face. Another instant, -and Walls had fled. The dead man was alone in the deserted street.</p> - -<p>"Next day the papers were full of the mysterious murder, but before next -day Walls and Mary Dane were far away. Rewards were offered by the -government, the police were set on the track, but all in vain—the -murderer was not to be found.</p> - -<p>"But there was one who knew it, and to whom the knowledge was a -death-blow—guilty Mary Dane. At all times she had been more weak than -wicked, and when Walls had fled home, blood-stained and ghastly, and in -his first frenzy had told her all, she dropped down at his feet like a -dead woman.</p> - -<p>"Mary Dane fled with him from the scene of his crime, because his baby -daughter lay on her arm, and she would not see its guilty father die a -felon's death; but her heart was torn with remorse from that hour. She -never held up her head again. Her wicked love turned to hatred and -loathing; the very first opportunity she left him, and, like a -distracted creature, made her way home.</p> - -<p>"Walls made no effort to follow her—he thought she had gone off in a -fit of remorse and misery and drowned herself. He was glad to be rid of -her, and he left France at once, and wandered away over the world.</p> - -<p>"Mary Dane came home with her child—home to die. On her death-bed she -told me the story of my husband's death, and from the hour I heard it, -Reason tottered on her throne. I have never been sane since my misery -drove me mad.</p> - -<p>"Mary Dane died, and I buried her. The child went to the work-house—I -would not have touched it with a pair of tongs—and there it, too, died -of lack and care. And so the miserable story of sin and shame ended, as -all such stories must end.</p> - -<p>"But the misery did not end here. You were left me, but I seemed to care -for you no longer. I sat down, a stunned and senseless thing, and let -all belonging to me go to rack and ruin. The farm went, the furniture -went, the homestead went—I was left a widowed, penniless, half-crazed -wretch. Thus all was gone but the clothes upon our backs—you went, too. -We were starving, but for the pitying charity of others. As you sat -singing by the road-side, the manager of a strolling band of players -overheard you, took a fancy to your pretty looks, and ways, and voice, -and made me an offer for you. I don't think I knew what I was doing half -the time—I didn't then—I let you go.</p> - -<p>"When you were gone I broke down altogether, and the authorities of the -village took and shut me up in a lunatic asylum. The years I spent -there—and I spent six long years—are but a dull, dead blank. My life -began again when they sent me forth, as they said—cured.</p> - -<p>"I left Steeple Hill and began my life as a tramp. I joined a band of -gypsies, and took to their ways—fortune-telling, rush-weaving—anything -that came up; and I was black enough and weather-beaten enough to pass -for one of them. I had but one desire left in life. To hunt up the -manager of the little theater, and see my daughter again. I didn't want -you back. What could I, a miserable tramp, homeless, houseless, do with -a young girl?—but I hungered and thirsted for the sound of your voice, -for the sight of your face. I would know you anywhere—you were of the -kind that do not change much. I knew I would recognize you as soon as I -saw you.</p> - -<p>"For two years I strolled about with the gypsy gang, searching in vain. -Then my time came, and I saw you. It was at Liverpool, embarking on -board a vessel for America. I had money—made in those two yeas -wandering—hidden in my breast, more than enough for my passage. I -crossed the Atlantic in the same vessel with you, and never lost sight -of you since.</p> - -<p>"But a great, a mighty shock was waiting for me this side the ocean. On -the pier, as we landed, Mollie, the first person my eyes rested on was -the man Walls—older, darker, sterner than when I saw him before, but my -arch-enemy—the murderer Walls.</p> - -<p>"Mollie, I let you go and I followed that man home, followed him to a -mansion that was like a palace, and I heard his name—his real name. -Mollie, Mollie, do you need to be told what that name is?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mollie, in a horror-struck voice; "it is Carl Walraven!"</p> - -<p>"It is. Now do you know why I hate him—why I would die the death of a -dog by the way-side before I would take a crust from him?"</p> - -<p>"And yet," Mollie cried in a voice of bitter anguish, "you have let me, -James Dane's child, eat of his bread, drink of his cup, dwell under his -roof! Oh, my mother!"</p> - -<p>At that piercing cry of unutterable reproach, the dying woman held up -her supplicating hands.</p> - -<p>"It was because I loved you a thousand times better than myself—better -than my revenge. Forgive me, Mollie—forgive me!"</p> - -<p>"You are my mother, and you are dying," Mollie said, solemnly, bending -down and kissing her. "I forgive you everything. But I will never set -foot under Carl Walraven's roof again."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> - -<h3>DEAD AND BURIED.</h3> - - -<p>The twilight was falling without—the last silvery radiance of the dying -day streamed through the dirty, broken attic window, and lighted, as -with a pale glory, Mollie's drooping head and earnest, saddened face.</p> - -<p>Miriam had fallen back upon the pillow, exhausted, panting, laboring for -breath.</p> - -<p>There was a long pause; then Mollie lifted her bowed head and drew -closer to the dying woman.</p> - -<p>"Finish your story," she said, softly, sadly.</p> - -<p>"It is finished," Miriam answered, in a voice, scarcely above a whisper. -"You know the rest. I went to you, as you remember, the day after you -landed, and proved to you that I was your aunt—a falsehood, Mollie, -which my love and my pride begot.</p> - -<p>"Some dim recollection of me and your childhood's days yet lingered in -your breast—you believed me. You told me you were going to K——. You -gave me money, and promised to write to me. You were so sweet, so -gentle, so pitying, so beautiful, that I loved you tenfold more than -ever. Your life was one of labor, and drudgery, and danger. If I could -only make you a lady, I thought! My half-crazed brain caught at the -idea, and held it fast—if I could only make you a lady!</p> - -<p>"Like lightning there dawned upon me a plan. The man who had wronged us -all so unutterably was rich and powerful—why should I not use him? -Surely, it could not be wrong—it would be a just and righteous -reparation. He need not know you were my child—with that knowledge I -would far sooner have seen you dead than dependent upon him—but let -him think you were his very own (Mary Dane's) dead child, and where -would be the obligation?</p> - -<p>"I could neither sleep nor eat for thinking of this plot of mine. Your -image, bright and beautiful in silken robes and sparkling jewels, waited -upon by obedient servants, a life of ease and luxury for my darling whom -I had deserted—a lady among the ladies of the land—haunted me by night -and by day.</p> - -<p>"I yielded at last. I went to Carl Walraven, and stood boldly up before -him, and faced him until he quailed. Conscience makes cowards of the -bravest, they say, and I suppose it was more his guilty conscience than -fear of me; but the fear was there. I threatened him with exposure—I -threatened to let the world know his black crimes, until he turned white -as the dead before me.</p> - -<p>"He knew and I knew, in our heart of hearts, that I could do nothing. -How could I substantiate a charge of murder done years ago in -France?—how prove it? How bring it home to him? My words would be -treated as the ravings of a mad-woman, and I would be locked up in -a mad-house for my pains.</p> - -<p>"But knowing all this, and knowing I knew it, he nevertheless feared me, -and promised to do all I wished. He kept his word, as you know. He went -to K——, and, seeing you, became as desirous of you as I would have had -him. Your bright, girlish beauty, the thought that you were his -daughter, did the rest. He brought you home with him, and grew to -love you dearly."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Mollie said, very sadly, "he loves me dearly. I should abhor and -hate the murderer of my father, I suppose, but somehow I can not. Mr. -Walraven has been very good to me. And now, mother, tell me why you came -on the day of his marriage, and strove to prevent it? You did not really -think he was going to marry me?"</p> - -<p>"I never thought so," said Miriam. "It was one of my mad freaks—an evil -wish to torment him. I have been a nightmare to him ever since my first -appearance. I hardly know whether he hates or fears me most. But that is -all past and gone. I will never torment him again in this world. Give me -more wine, Mollie—my lips are parched."</p> - -<p>Miriam moistened her dry mouth and fell back, ghastly and breathing -hard. Mollie rose from the bedside with a heavy sign.</p> - -<p>"You will not leave me?" the dying woman whispered, in alarm, opening -her glassy eyes.</p> - -<p>"Only for a moment, mother. Mr. Ingelow is below. I must speak with -him."</p> - -<p>She glided from the room and went down-stairs.</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow, leaning against the door-post, smoking a solacing cigar, -and watching the new moon rise, started as she appeared. She looked so -unlike herself, so like a spirit, that he dropped his cigar and stared -aghast.</p> - -<p>"Is she dead?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"She is dying," Mollie answered. "I came to tell you I will stay to the -last—I will not leave her again. You can not, need not wait longer -here, Mr. Ingelow."</p> - -<p>"I will not leave you," Mr. Ingelow said, resolutely, "if I have to stay -a week. Good heavens, Mollie! what do you think I am, to leave you alone -and unprotected in this beastly place?"</p> - -<p>"I will be safe enough," Mollie said with a wan smile at his vehemence. -"I dare say the worst crime these poor people are guilty of is poverty."</p> - -<p>"I will not leave you," Hugh Ingelow reiterated. "I will go upstairs and -stay in the passage all night if you will find me a chair. I may be -needed."</p> - -<p>"You are so kind!" raising her eloquent eyes; "but it is too much—"</p> - -<p>"Not one whit too much. Don't let us waste words over a trifle. Let us -go up."</p> - -<p>He ran lightly up the rickety staircase, and Mollie, pausing a moment to -tap at Mrs. Slimmens' door, and ask her to share her last vigil, slowly -followed, and returned to the solemn chamber of death.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Slimmens, worthy woman, saw to Mr. Ingelow's comfort. She found a -chair and a little table and a pillow for the young gentleman, and fixed -him as agreeably as possible on the landing. The patient artist laid the -pillow upon the table and his head thereon, and slept the sleep of the -just.</p> - -<p>The long night wore on; Miriam lay, white and still, the fluttering -breath just there and no more. After midnight she sunk lower and lower -with every passing hour. As day-dawn, pale and blank, gleamed dimly -across the night, the everlasting day dawned for her. Sinful and -suffering, she was at rest.</p> - -<p>Only once she had spoken. Just before the last great change came, the -dulled, glazed eyes opened and fixed themselves on Mollie.</p> - -<p>"My darling—my darling!" she whispered, with a last look of unutterable -love.</p> - -<p>Then a shiver shook her from head to foot, the death-rattle sounded, -the eyeballs rolled upward, and Miriam was dead.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Slimmens' wild cry brought Hugh Ingelow into the room. He crossed -the room to where Mollie knelt, rigid and cold.</p> - -<p>"Mollie!" he whispered, bending tenderly down; "my own dear Mollie!"</p> - -<p>She looked up vaguely, and saw who it was.</p> - -<p>"She was my mother, Hugh," she said, and slipped heavily backward in his -arms, white and still.</p> - -<p>Mollie did not faint. She lay a moment in a violent tremor and -faintless, her face hidden on his shoulder; then she lifted her face, -white as the dead—white as snow.</p> - -<p>"She was my mother, Hugh," she repeated—"my own mother."</p> - -<p>"Your mother, Mollie? And I thought Carl Walraven—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, hush! not that name here. He is nothing to me—less than nothing. -I shall never see him again."</p> - -<p>"Are you not going home?"</p> - -<p>"I have no home," said Mollie, mournfully. "I will stay here until she -is buried. After that—'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' -You will help me, Mr. Ingelow?" looking piteously up. "I don't know what -to do."</p> - -<p>"I will help you," he said, tenderly, "my poor little forlorn darling; -but only on one condition—that you will grant me a favor."</p> - -<p>"What?" looking at him wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"That you will go and lie down. You need sleep—go with Mrs. -Slimmens—eat some breakfast, and try to sleep away the morning. Don't -make yourself uneasy about anything—all shall be arranged as well as if -you were here. You will do this for me, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Anything for you, Hugh," Mollie replied, hardly knowing what she said; -"but I feel as though I should never sleep again."</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, when led away by Mrs. Slimmens, and a cup of warm tea -administered, and safely tucked in a clean straw bed, Mollie's heavy -eyelids closed in a deep, dreamless sleep. That blessed slumber which -seals the eyes of youth, despite every trouble, wrapped her in its -comforting arms for many hours.</p> - -<p>It was high noon when Mollie awoke, refreshed in body and mind. She rose -at once, bathed her face and brushed her curls, and quitted the bedroom.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Slimmens, in the little kitchen, was bustling about the midday meal.</p> - -<p>"Your dinner is all ready, Miss Dane," that worthy woman said, "and the -young gentleman told me not on any account to allow you upstairs again -until you'd had it. Sit right down here. I've got some nice broiled -chicken and blancmange."</p> - -<p>"You've never gone to all this trouble and expense for me, I hope?" -remonstrated Mollie.</p> - -<p>"La, no; I hadn't the money. The young gentleman had 'em ordered here -from the restaurant up-street. Sit right down at once."</p> - -<p>"Dear, kind, considerate Hugh!" Mollie thought, as she took her place at -the tidy table. "Where is he now, Mrs. Slimmens?"</p> - -<p>"Gone for his own dinner, miss, or his breakfast; I don't know which, -seein' he's had nothing all day but a cup of tea I gave him this -morning. He's been and had the poor creeter upstairs laid out beautiful, -and the room fixed up, and the undertaker's man's been here, a-measurin' -her for her coffin. She's to be buried to-morrow, you know."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know. Poor Miriam! poor mother!"</p> - -<p>Mollie finished her meal and went at once upstairs. The chamber of death -looked ghastly enough, draped with white sheets, which hid the smoky, -blotched walls; the stove had been removed, the floor scrubbed, the -window washed and flung open, and on the table stood two large and -beautiful bouquets that scented the little room with sweetest odors of -rose and mignonette.</p> - -<p>On the bed, snowily draped in a white shroud, lay Miriam, her hands -folded across her bosom, a linen cloth covering the dead face. By the -bed a watcher sat—a decently dressed woman, who rose with a sort of -questioning courtesy upon the entrance of the young lady.</p> - -<p>"This is Mrs. Harmen, Miss Dane," said Mrs. Slimmens. "She's the person -that fixed the shroud and helped tidy up. She's to take spells with you -and me watching until the funeral comes off."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Mollie, quietly. "Perhaps she had better go down with -you for the present. I will remain here for the rest of the day."</p> - -<p>The two women quitted the apartment, and Mollie was left alone. She -removed the cloth and gazed sadly on the rigid face.</p> - -<p>"Poor soul!" she thought, bitterly, "hers was a hard, hard life! Oh, -Carl Walraven! if you could look upon your work, surely even you would -feel remorse."</p> - -<p>The entrance of Hugh Ingelow aroused her. She turned to him her pale, -sweet face and earnest blue eyes.</p> - -<p>"I want to thank you so much, Mr. Ingelow, and I can not. You are very, -very, very good."</p> - -<p>He took the hand she held out and kissed it.</p> - -<p>"One word from you would repay me for ten times as much. May I share -your watch for a couple of hours?"</p> - -<p>"For as long as you will. I want to tell you the story she told me on -her death-bed. You have been so good to me—no brother could have been -more—that I can have no secrets from you. Besides, you must understand -why it is I will return to Mr. Walraven's no more."</p> - -<p>"No more?" he echoed in surprise.</p> - -<p>"Never again. I never want to see him again in this world. I will tell -you. I know the miserable secret is as safe with you as in my own -breast."</p> - -<p>If Mollie had loved Hugh Ingelow less dearly and devotedly than she did, -it is doubtful if she would have revealed the dark, sad history Miriam -had unfolded. But he had her heart, and must have every secret in it; so -she sat and told him, simply and sadly, all her father's and mother's -wrongs. Mr. Ingelow listened in horrified amaze.</p> - -<p>"So now, you see, my friend," she concluded, "that I can never cross -Carl Walraven's threshold more."</p> - -<p>"Of course not," cried Mr. Ingelow, impetuously. "Good heavens! what a -villain that man has been! They ought to hang, draw, and quarter him. -The infliction of such a wife as Madame Blanche has been is but -righteous retribution. You should expose him, Mollie."</p> - -<p>"And myself? No, no, Mr. Ingelow. I leave him in higher hands. The mill -of the gods grinds slow, but it grinds sure. His turn will come, be -certain of that, sooner or later. All I will do is never to look upon -his guilty face again."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean to do, Mollie? But I suppose you have no plan formed -yet."</p> - -<p>He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, looking at her askance, and Mollie -sighed wearily.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have a plan. I intend to leave New York as soon as possible -after to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Indeed. May I ask—to go where?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Ingelow, I shall join my old company again. They will be glad to -have me, I know. I have always kept up a correspondence with a friend I -had in the troupe, and she continually, half in jest, wholly in earnest, -urges my return. They are down in Kentucky now. I will write to the -manager. He will forward me the funds to join them, I know. While I wait -for his answer and remittance, good Mrs. Slimmens will provide me a -home."</p> - -<p>She ceased, and rising up, walked over to the window.</p> - -<p>Now was Mr. Ingelow's time, surely, if he cared for Mollie at all; but -Mr. Ingelow spoke never a word. He sat in dead silence, looking at the -little figure by the window, knowing she was crying quietly, and making -no attempt to wipe away those tears by one tender word.</p> - -<p>The afternoon wore away. As the twilight fell, Mr. Ingelow took his -departure, and Mollie went down to Mrs. Slimmens' for a reviving cup of -tea.</p> - -<p>"I have everything arranged for the funeral, Mollie," Mr. Ingelow said -at parting. "I will be here by nine o'clock to-morrow. Don't give -yourself the least anxiety about the matter, Mollie."</p> - -<p>The young man departed. Mollie had her toast, and returned to the -death-room. She remained there until past midnight with Mrs. Harmen; -then, at Mrs. Slimmens' earnest request, she retired, and that good -woman took her place. At ten next day, the humble funeral <i>cortège</i> -started. Mr. Ingelow sat in the carriage with Mollie, but they spoke -very little during the melancholy drive.</p> - -<p>It was a dismal day, with ceaseless rain, and sighing wind, and leaden -sky. Mollie cowered in a corner of the carriage, her pale face gleaming -like a star above her black wraps, the bright blue eyes unutterably -mournful.</p> - -<p>And Hugh Ingelow watched her with an indescribable expression in his -fathomless eyes, and made no effort to console her.</p> - -<p>The sods rattled on the coffin-lid, the grave was filled up, and -everybody was hurrying away out of the rain.</p> - -<p>It was all over, like some dismal dream, and Mollie, shivering under her -shawl, took one last backward look at the grave of her mother, and was -hurried back to the carriage by Hugh Ingelow.</p> - -<p>But she was so deathly white and cold, and she trembled with such -nervous shivering, that the young man drew her to him in real alarm.</p> - -<p>"You are going to be ill, Mollie," he said. "You are ill."</p> - -<p>"Am I?" said Mollie, helplessly. "I don't know. I hope not. I want to go -away so much."</p> - -<p>"So much? To leave me, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>Mollie lifted her heavy eyes, filled with unutterable reproach.</p> - -<p>"You don't care," she said. "It is nothing to you. And it should be -nothing," suddenly remembering herself and sitting up. "Please let me -go, Mr. Ingelow. We must part, and it is better so."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow released her without a word. Mollie sat up, drew a letter -from her pocket, and handed it to him. He saw it was addressed to Carl -Walraven, and looked at her inquiringly.</p> - -<p>"I wish you to read it," she said.</p> - -<p>It was unsealed. He opened it at once, and read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>MR. WALRAVEN,—Miriam is dead—Miriam Dane—my mother. She deceived you -from first to last. I am no daughter of yours—for which I humbly thank -God!—no daughter of Mary Dane. I am Miriam's child; yours died in the -work-house in its babyhood. I know my own story—I know your hand is red -with my father's blood. I don't forgive you, Mr. Walraven, but neither do -I accuse you. I simply never will see you again. Mr. Ingelow will hand -you this. He and I alone know the story. MARY DANE.</p></div> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow looked up.</p> - -<p>"Will it do?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Am I to deliver it?"</p> - -<p>"If you will add that kindness to your others. I don't think he will -seek me out. He knows better than that."</p> - -<p>Her head dropped against the side of the carriage. The face usually so -sparkling looked very, very pale, and worn, and sad. The young artist -took her hand and held it a moment at parting.</p> - -<p>"You intend to write to your old manager to-morrow, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Don't do it. Postpone it another day. I am coming here to-morrow, and -I have a different plan in my head that I think will suit better. Wait -until to-morrow, Mollie, and trust me."</p> - -<p>His eyes flashed with an electric fire that thrilled the girl through.</p> - -<p>What did he mean? But Mr. Ingelow had sprung into the carriage again and -was gone.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> - -<h3>CRICKET'S HUSBAND.</h3> - - -<p>Mr. Carl Walraven sat alone in his private room in a Broadway hotel, -smoking an after-breakfast cigar, and looking lazily at the stream of -people hurrying up and down. It was the morning following Miriam's -funeral, of which he, of course, had heard nothing. He had left the city -after his interview with his wife, and had but just returned. He had not -gone home, but he had notified Mr. Sardonyx of his presence in town, and -signified that that gentleman was to wait upon him immediately.</p> - -<p>Pending his arrival, Mr. Walraven sat and smoked, and stared at the -passers-by, and wondered, with an internal chuckle, how Mme. Blanche -felt by this time, and whether Mollie was lonely or not, shut up in the -deserted mansion.</p> - -<p>"If she'll consent, I'll take her to Europe," mused Carl Walraven. "It -will be delightful to go over the old places with so fresh a companion -as my sparkling little Cricket. But I'm not sure that she'll go—she's a -great deal to fond of young Ingelow. Well, he's a fine fellow, and I've -no objection."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven's reflections were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. -Sardonyx. The lawyer bowed; his employer nodded carelessly.</p> - -<p>"How do, Sardonyx? Find a chair. I've got back, you see. And now, how's -things progressing?"</p> - -<p>"Favorably, Mr. Walraven. All goes well."</p> - -<p>"And madame has gone packing, I hope?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Walraven left for Yonkers yesterday. I accompanied her and saw her -safely to her new home."</p> - -<p>"How does she take it?"</p> - -<p>"In sullen silence. She doesn't deign to speak to me; but with her -cousin it is quite another matter. He had the hardihood to call upon her -in my presence, and you should have seen her. By Jove, sir! she flew out -at him like a tigress. Doctor Guy departed without standing on the order -of his going, and hasn't had the courage to try it on since."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"That's as it should be. Apart, they are harmless; together, they are -the devil's own. And now, how's the mother, and how's Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Your mother is as well as usual, I believe. As to Miss Dane," lifting -his eyebrows in surprise, "have you not heard?"</p> - -<p>"Heard what?"</p> - -<p>"Why, that she has gone."</p> - -<p>"Gone!" cried Carl Walraven, "gone again? What the foul fiend does the -girl mean? Has she been carried off a third time?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, no! nothing of that sort. Miss Dane and Mr. Ingelow departed -together late in the afternoon of the same day you left, and neither has -since been heard of."</p> - -<p>Mr. Sardonyx made this extraordinary statement with a queer smile just -hovering about the corners of his legal mouth. His employer looked at -him sternly.</p> - -<p>"See here, Sardonyx," he said; "none of your insinuations. Miss Dane is -my ward, remember. You are her jilted lover, I remember. Therefore, I -can make allowances. But no insinuations. If Miss Dane and Mr. Ingelow -left together, you know as well as I do there was no impropriety in -their doing so."</p> - -<p>"Did I say there was, Mr. Walraven? I mean to insinuate nothing. I -barely state facts, told me by your servants."</p> - -<p>"Did Mollie leave no word where she was going?"</p> - -<p>"There was no need; they knew. This was the way of it: a ragged urchin -came for her in hot haste, told her Miriam was dying, and desired her -presence at once, to reveal some secret of vital importance. Miss Dane -departed at once. Mr. Ingelow chanced to be at the house, and he -accompanied her. Neither of them has returned."</p> - -<p>The face of Carl Walraven turned slowly to a dead, sickly white as he -heard the lawyer's words. He rose slowly and walked to one of the -opposite windows, keeping his back turned to Sardonyx.</p> - -<p>"Has there been no letter, no message of any sort since?" he inquired, -huskily, after a pause.</p> - -<p>"None. No one in your household knows even where this Miriam resides. As -for Mr. Ingelow, I called twice at the studio since, but each time to -find it locked."</p> - -<p>There was a tap at the door.</p> - -<p>"Come in," said the lawyer.</p> - -<p>And enter a waiter, with a card for Mr. Walraven. That gentleman took it -with a start.</p> - -<p>"Speak of the—Hugh Ingelow!" he muttered. "Sardonyx, I wish to see -Ingelow in private. I'll drop into your office in the course of the day."</p> - -<p>Mr. Sardonyx bowed and took his hat and his departure at once.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow and he crossed each other on the threshold.</p> - -<p>The young artist entered, his handsome face set, and grave, and stern.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven saw that cold, fixed face with a sinking heart.</p> - -<p>"Good-morning, Ingelow," he said, trying to nod and speak indifferently. -"Take a seat and tell me the news. I've been out of town, you know."</p> - -<p>"I know," Mr. Ingelow said, availing himself of the proffered chair only -to lean lightly against it. "Thanks. No, I prefer to stand. My business -will detain you but a few minutes. I come from Miss Dane."</p> - -<p>He spoke with cold sternness. He could not forget the horrible fact that -the man before him was a profligate and a murderer.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Carl Walraven said, with ashen lips. "She is well, I trust?"</p> - -<p>"She is well. She desired me to give you this."</p> - -<p>He held out the note. The hands of the millionaire shook as he tried to -open it.</p> - -<p>"Where is she?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"She is with friends. Read that note; it explains all."</p> - -<p>"Have you read it?" Carl Walraven asked with sudden, fierce suspicion.</p> - -<p>"I have," answered Mr. Ingelow, calmly; "by Miss Dane's express desire."</p> - -<p>Mr. Walraven opened the note and read it slowly to the end. His face -changed from ashen gray to the livid hue of death. He lifted his eyes to -the face of the young artist, and they glowed like the burning eyes of a -hunted beast.</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>It was all he said, and he sent the word hissing hot and fierce from -between his set teeth.</p> - -<p>"That is all my errand here, Mr. Walraven," the young man said, his cool -brown eyes looking the discovered murderer through. "I know all, and I -believe all. You have been duped from first to last. Miss Dane is no -child of yours, thank God!"</p> - -<p>He raised his hand as he uttered the solemn thanksgiving, with a gesture -that thrilled the guilty man through.</p> - -<p>"Your secret is safe with her and with me," pursued Hugh Ingelow, after -a pause. "You may live to the end of your life unmolested of man, for -us, but you must never look upon Mollie Dane's face more."</p> - -<p>Carl Walraven sunk down into a chair and covered his face, with a groan. -Hugh Ingelow turned to go.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" Mr. Walraven said, hoarsely. "What is to become of her? Are you -going to marry her, Hugh Ingelow?"</p> - -<p>"I decline answering that question, Mr. Walraven," the artist said, -haughtily. "Miss Dane will be cared for—believe that. I wish you -good-morning."</p> - -<p>Mr. Ingelow was very pale when he emerged into thronged Broadway, but -there was no indecision in his movements. He hailed a hack passing, -sprung in, and was driven rapidly to the east side—to the humble abode -of Mrs. Slimmens.</p> - -<p>Mollie came forth to meet him, worn and sad, and with traces of tears, -but with a bright, glad light in her starry eyes at sight of him—the -light of sweet young love.</p> - -<p>"I have seen him, Mollie," he said. "I gave him your letter. You would -hardly have known him, he looked so utterly aghast and confounded. He -will not try to see you, I am certain. And now, my dear girl, for that -other and better plan that I spoke of last evening. But first you must -take a drive with me—a somewhat lengthy drive."</p> - -<p>She looked at him wonderingly, but in no fear.</p> - -<p>"A drive," she repeated. "Where?"</p> - -<p>"Only to Harlem—not quite out of the world," with a smile. "The -carriage is waiting. Go put on your bonnet, and come."</p> - -<p>"It is very odd," thought Mollie.</p> - -<p>But she obeyed implicitly, and in five minutes they were rattling along -over the stony streets.</p> - -<p>"Won't you tell me now?" the young lady asked.</p> - -<p>"Not yet. Let the mystery develop itself as it does in a novel. Trust to -me, and prepare for a great shock."</p> - -<p>She gazed at him, utterly unable to comprehend. He was smiling, but he -was strangely pale.</p> - -<p>"It is no jest, surely," Mollie said. "It is something serious. You look -as though it were."</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows I never was more serious in my life. Don't ask any more -questions now, Mollie; but if I have ever done you the slightest -service, try to bear it in mind. You will need to remember it shortly, -and I will stand sorely in want of all your magnanimity."</p> - -<p>He said no more, and Mollie sat in a dazed state, but still happy, as -she ever must be by his side. And on, and on, and on they rattled, and -the city was left behind, and they were driving through the quiet of -Harlem, green and pretty in its summery freshness.</p> - -<p>The driver, obeying some directions of Mr. Ingelow, turned up a shady -green lane ending in a high gate-way.</p> - -<p>They entered the gate-way and drove up through a long avenue of waving -trees to a square, fair mansion of gleaming white—a large wooden -structure with intensely green blinds, all closely shut.</p> - -<p>Mollie sat and looked in speechless expectation. Mr. Ingelow, -volunteering no explanation, assisted her out, desired cabby to wait, -opened the door with a latch-key, and ushered Mollie in.</p> - -<p>The entrance-hall was very much like any other entrance-hall; so, -likewise, was the broad stair-way; so, also, the upper landing.</p> - -<p>It was only when Mr. Ingelow, pausing before one of the doors in the -second hall, spoke, that Mollie received her first shock.</p> - -<p>"You will enter here, Mollie, and wait. Prepare yourself for a great -surprise—a terrible surprise, perhaps."</p> - -<p>He bowed and left her, passing into another room, and closing the door.</p> - -<p>All in an agitated flutter, Mollie opened her door and entered. But on -the threshold she paused, with a shrill cry of wonder, terror, and -doubt; for the padded walls and floor, the blind windows, the lighted -lamp, the bed, the furniture, were all recognized in a moment.</p> - -<p>It was the room where she had been first imprisoned—where she had -consented to marry the masked man.</p> - -<p>A quiet figure rose from a chair under the lamp and faced her with a -courtesy. It was the girl who had lured her from her home—Sarah Grant.</p> - -<p>"Come in, miss," said this young person, as though they had just parted -an hour ago. "Master told me to expect you. Sit down; he'll be here in a -minute. You look fit to drop."</p> - -<p>She felt "fit to drop." She sunk into the proffered seat, trembling -through every limb in her body, overwhelmed with a stunning -consciousness that the supreme moment of her life had come.</p> - -<p>Sarah Grant left the room, and Mollie was alone. Her eyes turned to -the door, and fixed themselves there as if fascinated. Her head was -awhirl—her mind a blank. Something tremendous was about to -happen—what, she could not think.</p> - -<p>The door opened slowly—the man in the black mask strode in and stood, -silent and awful, before her.</p> - -<p>Without a word or cry, but white as death, she rose up and confronted -him with wild, dilated eyes.</p> - -<p>"You know me, Mollie," the masked man said, addressing her, as before, -in French—"I am your husband."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Mollie answered, her white lips scarce able to form the words. -"For God's sake, take off that mask and show me your face!"</p> - -<p>Without a word, he unclasped the cloak and let it slip on the floor; he -removed the flowing hair and beard, and with it the mask. And uttering a -low, wailing cry, Mollie staggered back—for there before her, pale as -herself, stood the man she loved—Hugh Ingelow!</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> - -<h3>WHICH WINDS UP THE BUSINESS.</h3> - - -<p>He stood before her, pale and stern, his eyes fixed upon her, as a -culprit before his judge waiting sentence of death.</p> - -<p>But Mollie never looked. After that one brief, irrepressible cry, she -had fallen back, her face bowed and hidden in her hands.</p> - -<p>"You shrink from me, Mollie," Hugh Ingelow said; "you will not even look -at me. I knew it would be so. I know I deserve it; but if I were never -to see you again, I must tell you the truth all the same. Yes, Mollie, -recoil from me, hate me, spurn me, for the base, unmanly part I have -acted. It is not Doctor Oleander who is the dastard, the villain, the -abductor of weak women—it is I!"</p> - -<p>She did not speak, she did not move, she made no sign that she even -heard him.</p> - -<p>"It will avail me little, I know," he continued, "to tell you I have -repented the dastardly deed in bitterness of spirit since. It will avail -nothing to tell you how I have hated myself for that cruel and cowardly -act that made me your husband. I think you maddened me, Mollie, with -your heartless, your insulting rejection, and I did love you -passionately. I swore, in my heart of hearts, I would be avenged, and, -Mollie, you know how I kept my vow."</p> - -<p>Still no reply, still no movement on Mollie's part. She stood half -bowed, her head averted, her face covered by her hands.</p> - -<p>"It drove me into a sort of frenzy, the thought of your becoming Sir -Roger Trajenna's wife. If he had been a young man, and you had loved -him, I would have bowed my head, as before a shrine, and gone my way and -tried to forgive you and wish you happiness. But I knew better. I knew -you were selling yourself for an old man's rank, for an old man's gold, -and I tried to despise and hate you. I tried to think that no base act I -could commit would be baser than the marriage you were ready to make. A -plan—mad, impracticable as my own mad love, flashed across my brain, -and, like many other things impossible in theory, I did it! It seemed an -impossiblity to tear you from the very altar, and make you my wife, all -unknown, but I did it. I had this house here, uninhabited, furnished. I -had a friend ready to help me to the death. I disguised myself like a -hero of romance, I decoyed you here, forced you to consent, I married -you!"</p> - -<p>Still mute, still dropping, still averted, still motionless. There was a -tremor in Hugh Ingelow's steady voice when he went on.</p> - -<p>"How hard it was for me, what a cruel, cold-blooded monster I felt -myself, how my very heart of hearts was touched by your suffering here, -I can not tell. Besides, it would seem like mockery, since all my -compassion did not make me spare you. But from the moment you set foot -here I considered it too late; and then, besides, Mollie, I was mad with -love of you. I could not let you go. You yielded—you consented to -barter yourself for freedom, as once before you consented for gold. I -brought the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh here—he married me under my -second name of Ernest—as you know."</p> - -<p>He paused again. Still no sign, and then he went on:</p> - -<p>"I let you go. I did not dare reveal myself, but I kept my promise. Hate -me, Mollie, as you will; despise me, as you must—but try and think how -dearly I love you. I would lay down my life for you, my darling Mollie. -That would be an easy sacrifice; it remains for me to make a greater -one. A divorce shall set you free. I myself will obtain that divorce. No -one knows of our marriage—no one ever shall know. I will leave you -free—free as the wind that blows—to go forth and make happy a more -honorable and deserving man. Only, Mollie, no man ever will love you as -I love you!" His voice failed. He turned abruptly away, and stood as if -waiting for her to speak. But she never uttered a word.</p> - -<p>He took her silence for a token of her utter scorn and hate.</p> - -<p>"Farewell then, Mollie," he said. "I go, and I will never molest you -more. The carriage that brought you here will fetch you home again. But -before we part forever, let me say this—if you ever want a friend, and -can so far forgive me the wrong I have done you as to call upon me for -help, then, Mollie, I will try to repair my unpardonable offense."</p> - -<p>He walked to the door, he turned the handle, he gave one last, -despairing look—and what did he see? A little, white hand extended -imploringly, and a pathetic little voice, tremulously speaking:</p> - -<p>"Hugh, don't go!"</p> - -<p>He stopped, turning ghastly white.</p> - -<p>"Mollie! For God's sake—"</p> - -<p>"Don't—don't go, Mr. Ingelow! Don't go, for I forgive you—I love you!"</p> - -<p>Hugh Ingelow gave one amazed cry—it was more like a shout—and in the -next ecstatic moment Miss Dane was in his arms, held there as if he -never would let her go.</p> - -<p>"Please don't!" Mollie said, pettishly. "What do you suppose a person's -ribs are made of, to stand such bear's hugs as that? Besides, I didn't -tell you to. I only asked you not to mind the divorce—to-day!"</p> - -<p>"Mollie, Mollie! for Heaven's sake, don't trifle with me! I am nearly -beside myself—what with remorse, despair, and now hope. Tell me—can -you ever forgive me? But I am mad to ask it, to hope for it. I know what -you said to Doctor Oleander."</p> - -<p>"Do you?" said Mollie; "but then you're not Doctor Oleander."</p> - -<p>"Mollie!"</p> - -<p>"But still," said Mollie, solemnly, and disengaging herself, "when I -have time to think about it, I am sure I shall hate you like poison. I -do now, but I hate divorces more. Oh, Mr. Ingelow! how could you behave -so disgracefully?"</p> - -<p>And then all at once and without the slightest premonitory warning, the -young lady broke out crying hysterically, and to do it the better laid -her face on Mr. Ingelow's shoulder. And, that bold buccaneer of modern -society gathered the little girl close to his heart, like the -presumptuous scoundrel he was, and let her cry her fill; and the face -he bent over her was glorified and ecstatic.</p> - -<p>"Stop crying, Mollie," he said at last, putting back the yellow curls, -and peeping at the flushed, wet, pretty face. "Stop crying, my dear -little wife, and look up and say, 'Hugh, I forgive you.'"</p> - -<p>"Never!" said Mollie. "You cruel, tyrannical wretch, I hate you!"</p> - -<p>And saying it, Mollie put her arms round his neck, and laughed and cried -wildly in the same breath.</p> - -<p>"The hysterics will do you good, my dear," said Mr. Ingelow; "only don't -keep them up too long, and redden your precious blue eyes, and swell -your dear little nose. Mollie, is it possible you love me a little, -after all?"</p> - -<p>Mollie lifted her face again, and looked at him with solemn, shining -eyes.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Hugh! am I really and truly—your very wife?"</p> - -<p>"My very own—my darling Mollie—my precious little bride, as fast as -Church and State and Mr. Rashleigh can make you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Hugh, it was a shame!"</p> - -<p>"I know it, Mollie—a dreadful shame! But you'll be a Christian, won't -you, and try to forgive me?"</p> - -<p>"I'll try, but I'm afraid it is impossible. And all the time I thought -it was Doctor Oleander. Oh, Hugh, you've no idea how miserable I was."</p> - -<p>There was a mysterious twinkle in Hugh's eyes.</p> - -<p>"Almost as miserable as at present, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; more so, if such a thing be possible. It's shocking to carry off a -girl like that, and marry her against her will. Nobody in this world, -but an angel like myself, would ever forgive you."</p> - -<p>"Which is equivalent to saying you do forgive me. Thousand thanks, Mrs. -Ingelow. Tell me, would you ever have forgiven Guy Oleander?"</p> - -<p>"You know I wouldn't," Mollie answered, blushing beautifully at her new -name; "but, then, you're different."</p> - -<p>"How, Mollie?"</p> - -<p>"Well—well, you see I hate Doctor Oleander, and I don't hate you."</p> - -<p>"You like me a little, Mollie, don't you? Ah, my darling, tell me so. -You know you never have yet."</p> - -<p>And then Mollie put her two arms round his neck, and held up her lovely, -blushing face.</p> - -<p>"Dear, dear Hugh! I love you with all my heart! And the happiest day of -Mollie's life is the day she finds you are Mollie's husband!"</p> - -<hr style='width: 45%;' /> - -<p>They were back in the carriage, driving through the golden mist of the -sunny afternoon slowly back to the city. Side by side, as happy lovers -sit, they sat and talked, with—oh, such infinitely blissful faces!</p> - -<p>"And now," said Mollie, "what are we going to do about it? It will never -answer to reveal this horrid little romance of ours to all the world."</p> - -<p>"Nor shall I. The world has no right to our secrets, and the Reverend -Raymond Rashleigh will go to his grave with his little mystery unsolved. -But we will be married again, openly and before the world, and you, Mrs. -Ingelow, will be under double obligation, because you will have promised -to love, honor and obey twice."</p> - -<p>"And we'll go and live out at Harlem, in the dear, romantic old house?" -Mollie said, with sparkling eyes.</p> - -<p>"Yes, if you wish it. I will have it repaired and refurnished -immediately, and, while the workmen are about it, we will be enjoying -our wedding-tour. For we must be married at once, Mollie," with a -comical look.</p> - -<p>Mollie blushed and fidgeted, and laughed a little nervous laugh.</p> - -<p>"This day fortnight will give you ample time for all the wedding -garniture," said the young man. "You hear, Mollie—a fortnight."</p> - -<p>Mollie sighed resignedly, "Of course, you will play the tyrant, as usual, -and carry me off willy-nilly, if I don't consent. You must have -everything your own way, I suppose. And now—I'm dying to know—tell me, -who is Sarah Grant?"</p> - -<p>"An eminently respectable young woman, and the wife of my -foster-brother. She and her husband would do anything under the -sun for me. The husband was the coachman who drove you when you were -abducted—who witnessed the marriage, and who is driving us now. Sarah's -a trump! Didn't she outwit Oleander nicely?"</p> - -<p>"How? Oh, Hugh," clasping her hands, "I see it all—the resemblance just -puzzled me so. Sarah Grant was Susan Sharpe."</p> - -<p>"Of course, she was, and a capital nurse she made. Sarah's worth her -weight in gold, and you will tell her so the next time you see her. And -now, here we are at Mrs. Watson's, and so good-bye for an hour or two, -my little wife."</p> - -<p>And Mollie went in, her face radiant, and all the world changed since -she had left.</p> - -<p>With the "witching hour of candle-light" came Mr. Ingelow again, to -spend the evening with his lady-love. He looked a little serious, as -Mollie saw.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Hugh?" she asked, in alarm.</p> - -<p>"Nothing much. I was thinking of Walraven. I saw him this afternoon."</p> - -<p>"Well?" breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"He is off again. Back to Europe, in the steamer to-morrow, never to -return, he says. I never saw a man more cast down. So old Madame -Walraven will be monarch of all she surveys once more, and the Fifth -Avenue mansion will be the abode of darkness and desolation again. Miss -Blanche is settled at Yonkers for good."</p> - -<p>"Did you tell him—"</p> - -<p>"About our forthcoming nuptials? Oh, yes! He looked rather surprised, -and asked about the Mysterious Unknown in the mask. But I pooh-poohed -that matter—told him I didn't think the mysterious husband would ever -trouble us, and I don't think he will. By the bye, Sir Roger Trajenna -goes to-morrow, too, so my little girl is deserted by all, and must -cling the closer to me."</p> - -<hr style='width: 45%;' /> - -<p>While Carl Walraven and Sir Roger Trajenna sailed over the wide -sea—while Blanche Walraven ground her teeth in impotent rage up at -Yonkers—while Dr. Guy Orleander pursued his business in New York, and -scowled darkly at the failure of his plans—the daily papers burst out, -one morning, with the jubilant news that Hugh Ernest Ingelow, Esq., -and Miss Mollie Dane were one flesh. The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh -performed the ceremony, and the wedding was a very quiet affair, and the -happy pair started off at once to spend the honey-moon in a trip to the -Canadas.</p> - -<p>So we leave Cricket—all her girlish troubles, and flirtations, and -wildness over, to settle down into the dearest, brightest, loveliest -little wife in wide America. Happy as the days are long, and bright as -the sun that shines, has Cricket been since Hugh Ingelow has been her -husband.</p> - - -<p>THE END.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Unseen Bridgegroom, by May Agnes Fleming - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNSEEN BRIDGEGROOM *** - -***** This file should be named 15875-h.htm or 15875-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/7/15875/ - -Produced by Early Canadiana Online, Robert Cicconetti, -Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Unseen Bridgegroom - or, Wedded For a Week - -Author: May Agnes Fleming - -Release Date: May 22, 2005 [EBook #15875] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNSEEN BRIDGEGROOM *** - - - - -Produced by Early Canadiana Online, Robert Cicconetti, -Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. - - - - - - - - - - THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM; - - OR, - - WEDDED FOR A WEEK - - BY MAY AGNES FLEMING - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE WALRAVEN BALL. - - -A dark November afternoon--wet, and windy, and wild. The New York -streets were at their worst--sloppy, slippery, and sodden; the sky -lowering over those murky streets one uniform pall of inky gloom. A bad, -desolate, blood-chilling November afternoon. - -And yet Mrs. Walraven's ball was to come off to-night, and it was rather -hard upon Mrs. Walraven that the elements should make a dead set at her -after this fashion. - -The ball was to be one of the most brilliant affairs of the season, and -all Fifth Avenue was to be there in its glory. - -Fifth Avenue was above caring for anything so commonplace as the -weather, of course; but still it would have been pleasanter, and only -a handsome thing in the clerk of the weather, considering Mrs. Walraven -had not given a ball for twenty years before, to have burnished up the -sun, and brushed away the clouds, and shut up that icy army of winter -winds, and turned out as neat an article of weather as it is possible -in the nature of November to turn out. - -Of course, Mrs. Walraven dwelt on New York's stateliest avenue, in a big -brown-stone palace that was like a palace in an Eastern story, with its -velvet carpets, its arabesques, its filigree work, its chairs, and -tables, and sofas touched up and inlaid with gold, and cushioned in -silks of gorgeous dyes. - -And in all Fifth Avenue, and in all New York City, there were not half -a dozen old women of sixty half so rich, half so arrogant, or half so -ill-tempered as Mrs. Ferdinand Walraven. - -On this bad November afternoon, while the rain and sleet lashed the -lofty windows, and the shrill winds whistled around the gables, Mrs. -Ferdinand Walraven's only son sat in his chamber, staring out of the -window, and smoking no end of cigars. - -Fifth Avenue, in the raw and rainy twilight, is not the sprightliest -spot on earth, and there was very little for Mr. Walraven to gaze at -except the stages rattling up the pave, and some belated newsboys crying -their wares. - -Perhaps these same little ill-clad newsboys, looking up through the -slanting rain, and seeing the well-dressed gentleman behind the rich -draperies, thought it must be a fine thing to be Mr. Carl Walraven, heir -to a half a million of money and the handsomest house in New York. - -Perhaps you might have thought so, too, glancing into that lofty -chamber, with its glowing hangings of ruby and gold, its exquisite -pictures, its inlaid tables, its twinkling chandelier, its perfumed -warmth, and glitter, and luxury. - -But Carl Walraven, lying back in a big easy-chair, in slippers and -dressing-gown, smoking his costly cheroots, looked out at the dismal -evening with the blackest of bitter, black scowls. - -"Confound the weather!" muttered Mr. Walraven, between strong, white -teeth. "Why the deuce does it always rain on the twenty-fifth of -November? Seventeen years ago, on the twenty-fifth of this horrible -month, I was in Paris, and Miriam was--Miriam be hanged!" He stopped -abruptly, and pitched his cigar out of the window. "You've turned over a -new leaf, Carl Walraven, and what the demon do you mean by going back to -the old leaves? You've come home from foreign parts to your old and -doting mother--I thought she would be in her dotage by this time--and -you're a responsible citizen, and an eminently rich and respectable man. -Carl, my boy, forget the past, and behave yourself for the future; as -the copy-books say: 'Be virtuous and you will be happy.'" - -He laughed to himself, a laugh unpleasant to hear, and taking up another -cigar, went on smoking. - -He had been away twenty years, this Carl Walraven, over the world, -nobody knew where. A reckless, self-willed, headstrong boy, he had -broken wild and run away from home at nineteen, abruptly and without -warning. Abruptly and without warning he had returned home, one fine -morning, twenty years after, and walking up the palatial steps, shabby, -and grizzled, and weather-beaten, had strode straight to the majestic -presence of the mistress of the house, with outstretched hand and a cool -"How are you, mother?" - -And Mrs. Walraven knew her son. He had left her a fiery, handsome, -bright-faced lad, and this man before her was gray and black-bearded and -weather-beaten and brown, but she knew him. She had risen with a shrill -cry of joy, and held open her arms. - -"I've come back, you see, mother," Mr. Carl said, easily, "like the -proverbial bad shilling. I've grown tired knocking about this big world, -and now, at nine-and-thirty, with an empty purse, a light heart, a -spotless conscience, and a sound digestion, I'm going to settle down and -walk in the way I should go. You are glad to have your ne'er-do-well -back again, I hope, mother?" - -Glad! A widowed mother, lonely and old, glad to have an only son back! -Mrs. Walraven had tightened those withered arms about him closer and -closer, with only that one shrill cry: - -"Oh, Carl--my son! my son!" - -"All right, mother! And now, if there's anything in this house to eat, -I'll eat it, because I've been fasting since yesterday, and haven't a -stiver between me and eternity. By George! this isn't such a bad harbor -for a shipwrecked mariner to cast anchor in. I've been over the world, -mother, from Dan to--What's-her-name! I've been rich and I've been poor; -I've been loved and I've been hated; I've had my fling at everything -good and bad under the shining sun, and I come home from it all, -subscribing to the doctrine: 'There's nothing new and nothing true.' And -it don't signify; it's empty as egg-shells, the whole of it." - -That was the story of the prodigal son. Mrs. Walraven asked no -questions. She was a wise old woman; she took her son and was thankful. -It had happened late in October, this sudden arrival, and now, late in -November, the fatted calf was killed, and Mrs. Walraven's dear five -hundred friends bidden to the feast. - -And they came. They had all heard the story of the widow's heir, so long -lost, and now, dark and mysterious as Count Lara, returned to lord it in -his ancestral halls. He was a very hero of romance--a wealthy hero, -too--and all the pretty man-traps on the avenue, baited with lace and -roses, silk and jewels, were coming to-night to angle for this dazzling -prize. - -The long-silent drawing-rooms, shrouded for twenty years in holland and -darkness, were one blaze of light at last. Flowers bloomed everywhere; -musicians, up in a gilded gallery, discoursed heavenly music; there was -a conservatory where alabaster lamps made a silver moonlight in a -modern Garden of Eden; there was a supper-table spread and waiting, a -feast for the gods and Sybarites; and there was Mrs. Walraven, in black -velvet and point lace, upright and stately, despite her sixty years, -with a diamond star of fabulous price ablaze on her breast. And there by -her side, tall, and dark, and dignified, stood her only son, the -prodigal, the repentant, the wealthy Carl Walraven. - -"Not handsome," said Miss Blanche Oleander, raising her glass, "but -eminently interesting. He looks like the hero of a sensation novel, or -a modern melodrama, or one of Lord Byron's poems. Does he dance, and will -he ask me, I wonder?" - -Yes, the dusky hero of the night did dance, and did ask Miss Blanche -Oleander. A tall, gray-eyed, imperious sort of beauty, this Miss -Blanche, seven-and-twenty years of age, and frightfully _passée_, more -youthful belles said. - -Mr. Walraven danced the very first dance with Miss Oleander, to her -infinite but perfectly concealed delight. - -"If you can imagine the Corsair, whirling in a rapid redowa with -Medora," Miss Oleander afterward said, "you have Mr. Walraven and -myself. There were about eighty Guinares gazing enviously on, ready to -poniard me, every one of them, if they dared, and if they were not such -miserable little fools and cowards. When they cease to smell of bread -and butter, Mr. Walraven may possibly deign to look at them." - -It seemed as if the dashing Blanche had waltzed herself straight into -the affections of the new-found heir, for he devoted himself to her in -the most _prononcé_ manner for the first three hours, and afterward led -her in to supper. - -Miss Blanche sailed along serene, uplifted, splendidly calm; the little -belles in lace, and roses, and pearls, fluttered and twittered like -angry doves; and Mme. Walraven, from the heights of her hostess-throne, -looked aslant at her velvet and diamonds with uneasy old eyes. - -"The last of all you should have selected," she said, waylaying her son -after supper. "A woman without a heart, Carl--a modern Minerva. I have -no wish to interfere with you, my son; I shall call the day happy that -brings me your wife, but not Blanche Oleander--not that cold-blooded, -bold-faced, overgrown grenadier." - -Madame hissed out the words between a set of spiteful, false teeth, -and glared, as women do glare, upon the gray-eyed Blanche. And Carl -listened, and laughed sardonically. - -"A woman without a heart. So much the better, mother; the less heart -the more head; and I like your clever, dashing women, who are big and -buxom, and able to take care of themselves. Don't forget, mother mine, -I haven't proposed to the sparkling Blanche, and I don't think I -shall--to-night. You wouldn't have me fall at the feet of those -mealy-winged moths fluttering around us, with heads softer than their -poor little hearts--you wouldn't, I hope?" - -With which Mr. Walraven went straight back to Miss Oleander and asked -her to dance the lancers. - -Miss Oleander, turning with ineffable calm from a bevy of rose-robed and -white-robed young ladies, said, "Yes," as if Mr. Walraven was no more -than any other man, and stood up to take his arm. - -But there is many a slip. Miss Oleander and Mr. Walraven never danced -that particular set, for just then there came a ring at the door-bell -so pealing and imperious that it sounded sharply even through the noisy -ball-room. - -"The Marble Guest, surely," Blanche said, "and very determined to be -heard." - -Before the words were well uttered there was a sound of an altercation -in the hall--one of the tall footmen pathetically protesting, and a -shrill female voice refusing to listen to those plaintive protests. Then -there suddenly fell peace. - -"After a storm there cometh a calm," Mr. Walraven said. "Miss Oleander, -shall we move on? Well, Johnson, what is it?" - -For Johnson, the taller of the two tall footmen, stood before them -gazing beseechingly at his master. - -"It's a woman, sir, all wet and dirty, and horrid to look at. She says -she will see you, and there she stands, and Wilson nor me we can't do -nothing with her. If you don't come she says she'll walk up here and -make you come. Them," said Johnson, plaintively, "were her own -language." - -Blanche Oleander, gazing up at her companion's face, saw it changing to -a startled, dusky white. - -"Some beggar--some troublesome tramp, I dare say." But he dropped her -arm abruptly as he said it. "Excuse me a moment, Miss Oleander. I had -better see her to prevent noise. Now, then, Johnson." - -Mr. Johnson led the way down a grand, sweeping staircase, rich in -gilding and carving, through a paved and vaulted hall, and out into -a lofty vestibule. - -There a woman stood, dripping wet and wretchedly clad, as -miserable-looking a creature as ever walked the bad city streets. The -flare of the gas-jets shone full upon her--upon a haggard face lighted -up with two blazing eyes. - -"For God's sake! Miriam!" - -Carl Walraven started back, as if struck by an iron hand. The woman took -a step forward and confronted him. - -"Yes, Carl Walraven--Miriam! You did well to come at once. I have -something to say to you. Shall I say it here?" - -That was all Messrs. Johnson and Wilson ever heard, for Mr. Walraven -opened the library door and waved her in, followed, and shut the door -again with a sounding slam. - -"Now, then," he demanded, imperiously, "what do you want? I thought you -were dead and--" - -"Don't say that other word, Mr. Walraven; it is too forcible. You only -hoped it. I am not dead. It's a great deal worse with me than that." - -"What do you want?" Mr. Walraven repeated, steadily, though his swarth -face was dusky gray with rage or fear, or both. "What do you come here -for to-night? Has the master you serve helped you bodily, that you -follow and find me even here? Are you not afraid I will throttle you -for your pains?" - -"Not the least." - -She said it with a composure the best bred of his mother's guests could -not have surpassed, standing bolt upright before him, her dusky eyes of -fire burning on his face. - -"I am not afraid of you, Mr. Walraven (that's your name, isn't it?--and -a very fine-sounding name it is), but you're afraid of me--afraid to the -core of your bitter, black heart. You stand there dressed like a king, -and I stand here in rags your kitchen scullions would scorn; but for all -that, Carl Walraven--for all that, you're my slave, and you know it!" - -Her eyes blazed, her hands clinched, her gaunt form seemed to tower and -grow tall with the sense of her triumph and her power. - -"Have you anything else to say?" inquired Mr. Walraven, sullenly, -"before I call my servants and have you turned out?" - -"You dare not," retorted the woman, fiercely--"you dare not, coward! -boaster! and you know it! I have a great deal more to say, and I will -say it, and you will hear me before we part to-night. I know my power, -Mr. Carl Walraven, and I mean to use it. Do you think I need wear these -rags? Do you think I need tramp the black, bad streets, night after -night, a homeless, houseless wretch? No; not if I chose, not if I -ordered--do you hear?--_ordered_ my aristocratic friend, Mr. Walraven, -of Fifth Avenue, to empty his plethoric purse in my dirty pocket. Ah, -yes," with a shrill laugh, "Miriam knows her power!" - -"Are you almost done?" Mr. Walraven replied, calmly. "Have you come here -for anything but talk? If so, for what?" - -"Not your money--be sure of that. I would starve--I would die the death -of a dog in a kennel--before I would eat a mouthful of bread bought with -your gold. I come for justice!" - -"Justice"--he lifted a pair of sullen, inquiring eyes--"justice! To -whom?" - -"To one whom you have injured beyond reparation--Mary Dane!" - -She hissed the name in a sharp, sibilant whisper, and the man recoiled -as if an adder had stung him. - -"What do you mean?" he asked, with dry, parched lips. "Why do you come -here to torment me? Mary Dane is dead." - -"Mary Dane's daughter lives not twenty miles from where we stand. -Justice to the dead is beyond the power of even the wealthy Carl -Walraven. Justice to the living can yet be rendered, and shall be -to the uttermost farthing." - -"What do you want?" - -"I want you to find Mary Dane, and bring her here, educate her, dress -her, treat as your own child." - -"Where shall I find her?" - -"At K----, twenty miles from here." - -"Who is she? What is she?" - -"An actress, traveling about with a strolling troupe; an actress -since her sixth year--on the stage eleven years to-night. This is her -seventeenth birthday, as you know." - -"Is this all?" - -"All at present. Are you prepared to obey, or shall I--" - -"There!" interrupted Mr. Walraven, "that will do. There is no need of -threats, Miriam--I am very willing to obey you in this. If I had known -Mary Dane--why the deuce did you give her that name?--was on this -continent, I would have hunted her up of my own accord. I would, upon -my honor!" - -"Swear by something you possess," the woman said, with a sneer; "honor -you never had since I first knew you." - -"Come, come, Miriam," said Mr. Walraven, uneasily, "don't be -cantankerous. Let by-gones be by-gones. I'm sorry for the past--I am -indeed, and am willing to do well for the future. Sit down and be -sociable, and tell me all about it. How came you to let the little -one go on the stage first?" - -Miriam spurned away the proffered chair. - -"I spurn it as I would your dead body if it lay before me, Carl -Walraven! Sit down with you? Never, if my life depended on it! The child -became an actress because I could keep her no longer--I couldn't keep -myself--and because she had the voice and face of an angel--poor little -wretch! The manager of a band of strolling players, passing through our -village, heard her baby voice singing some baby song, and pounced upon -her on the instant. We struck a bargain, and I sold her, Mr. -Walraven--yes, sold her." - -"You wretch! Well?" - -"Well, I went to see her occasionally afterward, but not often, for the -strolling troupe were here, there, and everywhere--from pillar to post. -But I never lost sight of her, and I saw her grow up a pretty, slender, -bright-eyed lass, well dressed, well fed, and happy--perfectly happy in -her wandering life. Her great-grandmother--old Peter Dane's wife--was a -gypsy, Mr. Walraven, and I dare say the wild blood broke out. She liked -the life, and became the star of the little band--the queen of the -troupe. I kept her in view even when she crossed the Atlantic last year, -and paid her a visit a week ago to-night." - -"Humph!" was Carl Walraven's comment. "Well, Mistress Miriam, it might -have been worse; no thanks to you, though. And now--what does she know -of her own story?" - -"Nothing." - -"What?" - -"Nothing, I tell you. Her name is Mary Dane, and she is seventeen -years old on the twenty-fifth of November. Her father and mother are -dead--poor but honest people, of course--and I am Aunt Miriam, earning -a respectable living by washing clothes and scrubbing floors. That is -what she knows. How much of that is true, Mr. Walraven?" - -"Then she never heard of me?" - -"She has never had that misfortune yet; it has been reserved for -yourself. You are a rich man, and you will go to K----, and you will see -her play, and will take a fancy to her, and adopt her as your daughter. -There is the skeleton for you to clothe with flesh." - -"And suppose she refuses?" - -"She will not refuse. She likes handsome dresses and jewelry as well as -any other little fool of seventeen. You make her the offer, and my word -for it, it will be accepted." - -"I will go, Miriam. Upon my word I feel curious to see the witch. Who is -she like, Miriam--mamma or me?" - -The woman's eyes flashed fire. - -"Not like you, you son of Satan! If she was I would have strangled her -in her cradle! Let me go, for the air you breathe chokes me! Dare to -disobey at your peril!" - -"I will start for K---- to-morrow. She will be here--my adopted -daughter--before the week ends." - -"Good! And this old mother of yours, will she be kind to the girl? I -won't have her treated badly, you understand." - -"My mother will do whatever her son wishes. She would be kind to a young -gorilla if I said so. Don't fear for your niece--she will be treated -well." - -"Let it be so, or beware! A blood-hound on your track would be less -deadly than I! I will be here again, and yet again, to see for myself -that you keep your word." - -She strode to the door, opened it, and stood in the illuminated ball. -Johnson just had time to vanish from the key-hole and no more. Down the -stair-way pealed the wild, melancholy music of a German waltz; from the -dining-room came the clink and jingle of silver, and china, and glass. -The woman's haggard face filled with scorn and bitterness as she gave -one fleeting, backward glance. - -"They say there is a just and avenging Heaven, yet Carl Walraven is -master of all this. Wealth, love, and honor for him, and a nameless -grave for her; the streets, foul and deadly, for me. The mill of the -gods may grind sure, but it grinds fearfully slow--fearfully slow!" - -They were the last words Carl Walraven heard her utter. She opened -the house door, gathered her threadbare shawl closer around her, and -fluttered away in the wild, wet night. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -"CRICKET." - - -The little provincial theater was crowded from pit to dome--long tiers -of changing faces and luminous eyes. There was a prevalent odor of stale -tobacco, and orange-peel, and bad gas; and there was bustle, and noise, -and laughter, and a harsh collection of stringed instruments grinding -out the overture. - -There were stamps and calls for the tawdry curtain to rise, when a -gentleman entered, sauntered up to a front seat, took up a bill and -began to read it--a tall, middle-aged, rather distinguished-looking man, -black and bearded, with piercing eyes, superfine clothes, and a general -aristocratic air about him. - -People paused to look again at him--for he was a stranger there--but -nobody recognized him, and Mr. Carl Walraven read his bill undisturbed. - -The play was "Fanchon the Cricket," and the bill announced, in very -big capitals, that the part of Fanchon was to be played by that -"distinguished and beautiful young English actress, Miss Mollie Dane." - -Mr. Walraven saw no more; he sat holding the strip of paper before -him, and staring at the one name as if the fat letters fascinated -him--"Fanchon, Miss Mollie Dane." - -A shrill-voiced bell tinkled, and the drop-curtain went up, and the -household of Father Barbeaud was revealed. There was a general settling -into seats, hats flew off, the noises ceased, and the play began. - -A moment or two, and, in rags and tatters, hair streaming, and feet -bare, on the stage bounded Fanchon, the Cricket. - -There was an uproarious greeting. Evidently it was not Miss Dane's first -appearance before that audience, and still more evidently she was a -prime favorite. - -Mr. Walraven dropped his bill, poised his lorgnette, and prepared to -stare his fill. - -She was very well worth looking at, this clear-voiced Mollie -Dane--through the tatters and unkempt hair he could see that. The stars -in the frosty November sky without were not brighter than her dark, -bright eyes; no silvery music that the heir of all the Walravens had -ever heard was clearer or sweeter than her free, girlish laugh; no -golden sunburst ever more beautiful than the waving banner of wild, -yellow hair. Mollie Dane stood before him a beauty born. - -Every nerve in Carl Walraven's body thrilled as he looked at her. How -lovely that face! How sweet that voice, that laugh! How eminently well -she acted! - -He had seen women of whom the world raved play that very part; but he -had never, no, never seen it better played than he saw it to-night. - -"She will make the world ring with her name if she adheres to the -stage," Carl Walraven said to himself, enthusiastically; "and she never -will play anything better than she plays the 'Cricket.' She is Fanchon -herself--saucy, daring, generous, irresistible Fanchon! And she is -beautiful as the angels above." - -The play went on; Fanchon danced, and sobbed, and sung, and wept, and -was mischievous as a scratching kitten, and gentle as a turtle-dove; -took all the hearts by storm, and was triumphantly reunited to her lover -at last. - -I don't know how many young men in that audience were left without -an atom of heart, how many would have given their two ears to be in -handsome Landry Barbeaud's boots. - -The roof nearly rose with the thunders of applause when the curtain -fell, and Carl Walraven got up with the rest, his head whirling, his -brain dizzy. - -"Good Heaven!" he thought, stumbling along the dark, chilly streets to -his hotel, "what a perfectly dazzling little witch she is! Was there -ever such another sparkling, bewildering little fairy in the world -before?" - -Mr. Walraven spent the night in a fever of impatience. He was one of -those men who, when they set their hearts on anything, find no peace, no -rest, until they obtain it. He had come here partly through curiosity, -partly because he dare not refuse Miriam; he had seen Mary Dane, and lo! -at first sight he was dazzled and bewitched. - -Next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Walraven obtained all the information he -desired concerning Miss Mollie Dane. Some half dozen of the actors were -stopping at the hotel, and proved very willing, under the influence of -brandy and water, to give the free-handed stranger Miss Dane's biography -as far as they knew it. - -She was just as charming off the stage as on; just as pretty, just -as saucy, just as captivating. She was wild and full of tricks as an -unbroken colt; but she was a thoroughly good girl, for all that, lavish -of her money to all who needed, and snubbing lovers incontinently. She -was stopping up the street at another hotel, and she would in all -probability be easily accessible about noon. - -The seedy, strolling players drank their diluted brandy, smoked their -cigars, and told Mr. Walraven all this. They rather laughed at the New -York millionaire when he was out of sight. He had fallen in love with -pretty, blue-eyed Mollie, no doubt, and that was a very stale story with -the shabby players. - -Noon came, and, speckless and respectable to the last degree, Mr. -Walraven presented himself at the other hotel, and sent up his card -with a waiter to Miss Dane. - -The waiter ushered him into the hotel parlor, cold and prim as it is -in the nature of hotel parlors to be. Mr. Walraven sat down and stared -vaguely at the papered walls, rather at a loss as to what he should say -to this piquant Mollie, and wondering how he would feel if she laughed -at him. - -"And she will laugh," he thought, with a mental groan; "she's the sort -of girl that laughs at everything. And she may refuse, too; there is no -making sure of a woman; and then what will Miriam say?" - -He paused with a gasp. There was a quick patter of light feet down the -stairs, the last two cleared with a jump, a swish of silken skirts, a -little gush of perfume, and then, bright as a flash of light, blue-eyed -Mollie stood before him. She held his card in her fingers, and all the -yellow hair fell over her plump shoulders, like amber sunshine over -snow. - -"Mr. Carl Walraven?" Miss Dane said, with a smile and a graceful little -bow. - -Mr. Carl Walraven rose up and returned that pretty courtesy with a -salute stiff and constrained. - -"Yes, Miss Dane." - -"Pray resume your seat, Mr. Walraven," with an airy wave of a little -white hand. "To what do I owe this visit?" - -She fluttered into a big black arm-chair as she spoke, folded the little -white hands, and glanced across with brightly expectant eyes. - -"You must think this call, from an utter stranger, rather singular, Miss -Dane," Mr. Walraven began, considerably at a loss. - -Miss Dane laughed. - -"Oh, dear, no! not at all--the sort of thing I am used to, I assure you! -May I ask its purport?" - -"Miss Dane, you must pardon me," said Mr. Walraven, plunging desperately -head first into his mission, "but I saw you play last night, and I -have--yes, I have taken a violent fancy to you." - -Miss Mollie Dane never flinched. The wicked sparkle in the dancing eyes -grew a trifle wickeder, perhaps, but that was all. - -"Yes," she said, composedly; "go on." - -"You take it very coolly," remarked the gentleman, rather taken aback -himself. "You don't appear the least surprised." - -"Of course not! I told you I was used to it. Never knew a gentleman of -taste to see me play yet and not take a violent fancy to me. Pray go -on." - -If Miss Dane wished, in her wickedness, to utterly disconcert her -middle-aged admirer, she could not have adopted a surer plan. For fully -five minutes he sat staring in hopeless silence. - -"Have you anything more to say?" queried the dauntless Mollie, pulling -out her watch. "Because, if you have, you will please say it at once. -My time is precious, I assure you. Rehearsal is at three, and after -rehearsal there are the spangles to sew on my dress, and after that--" - -"I beg your pardon, Miss Dane; I have a great deal more to say, and if -you will listen you need never attend rehearsal again, and never sew on -spangles any more." - -"Indeed!" - -The blue eyes opened very wide in a fixed, unwinking stare. - -"I like you very much, Miss Dane--so much that I think it is a thousand -pities you should waste your youth, and beauty, and genius on desert -air. So--" - -"Yes," said Miss Dane--"so you have fallen in love with me at first -sight. Is that what you are trying to say?" - -"No!" responded Mr. Walraven, emphatically. "I am not in the least in -love with you, and never mean to be--in that way." - -"Oh, in what way, then, Mr. Walraven?" - -"I am a rich man, Miss Dane, and a lonely man very often, and I should -like to have a daughter to cheer my old age--a daughter like you, -Mistress Cricket, saucy and bright, and so pretty that it will be -a pleasure only to look at her." - -"And a very complimentary papa you will make. Have you no daughters of -your own, Mr. Walraven?" - -"None, Miss Mollie. I have the misfortune to have no wife." - -"And never mean to have?" - -"Can't say about that. I may one day." - -"And you are quite sure you will never want me to fill that vacant -honor?" - -"Surer than sure, my dear little girl I want you only for my adopted -daughter." - -"And you never saw me before last night?" - -"Never," said Carl Walraven, unflinchingly. - -"You are a very rich man, you say?" - -"Very rich--a millionaire--and you shall be my heiress when I die." - -"I am afraid I shall be a very long time out of my inheritance, then. -Well, this is a surprise, and you are the oddest gentleman I have met -for some time. Please let me catch my breath! You are quite certain you -are not playing a practical joke at my expense all this time?" - -"No! upon my word and honor, no! I mean precisely what I say." - -"And supposing I say yes--supposing I agree to go with you, for the fun -of the thing, what do you mean to do with me, Mr. Walraven?" - -"To treat you as I would a Miss Walraven of seventeen years old, if -there were such a person; to fill your pockets with money, and your -wardrobe with fine clothes; to give you a horse to ride, and a piano to -play, a carriage to drive in, and a waiting-maid to scold. What more can -I do? I will give you masters to teach you everything under the sun. -Balls, parties, and the opera at will--everything, in short, your heart -can desire." - -The starry eyes sparkled, the rose-tinted cheeks flushed with delight. - -"I can not believe it; it is too good to be true. Oh, you can't mean it, -Mr. Walraven. No one ever had their wildest flight of fancy realized in -this manner." - -"You shall if you will become my daughter. If my promise proves false, -are you not free to return? There are no ogres nowadays to carry young -ladies off to enchanted palaces and eat them. Come with me to my home in -New York. If I fail in aught I have promised, why, return here." - -Mollie brought her two little palms together with an enthusiastic slap. - -"I'll do it, Mr. Walraven! I know it's all a dream and an illusion, but -still I'll see the dream to the end; that is, if you can make it all -right with Mr. Harkner, the manager." - -"I can make it all right!" exclaimed Mr. Walraven. "Money can do -anything under the sun. He has his price, like other men, and I can pay -it. If Mr. Harkner and I come to terms, will you be ready to start with -me to-morrow, Mollie?" - -"Quite ready. But you won't make it right. He will never let me go; you -will see." - -"I am not afraid. I will call upon him at once, and after the interview -I will let you know the result. He is in the house now, is he not?" - -"Down at the bar, very likely. I will wait for you here." - -Mr. Walraven took his hat and left, delighted with his success. - -The manager was at the bar, as Miss Dane had predicted, and eyed Mr. -Walraven suspiciously from head to foot when he found his business -concerned his star actress. - -He was accustomed to gentlemen falling in love with her, and quite -willing to take little bribes from them; but he stared in angry -amazement when he heard what Carl Walraven had to say. - -"Carry off Mollie!" exclaimed Mr. Harkner, "and adopt her as your -daughter! What do you take me for, to believe such a story as that?" - -Mr. Harkner was pretty far gone, and all the more inclined to be -skeptical. Mr. Walraven saw it, and knew that appearances were dead -against him, and so swallowed his wrath. - -"It is the truth, upon my honor. Miss Dane believes me and has -consented. Nothing remains but to settle matters with you." - -"I won't settle matters! I won't hear of it! I won't part with my best -actress!" - -"Yes you will for a fair price. Come, name the sum; I'll pay it." - -Mr. Harkner opened his eyes. Mr. Walraven opened his check-book. - -"You do mean it, then?" - -"Don't I look as if I meant it? Quick, I say! If you don't look sharp I -will take her without any price!" - -"She's a priceless treasure!" hiccoughed the manager--"worth her weight -in gold to me, and so--" - -He named a sum that made even Carl Walraven wince; but he was a great -deal too reckless to draw back. - -"It is a most cold-blooded extortion," he said; "but you shall have -it. And at your peril you ever interfere with my adopted daughter -afterward." - -He signed the check and flung it to the manager, turned and went out, -and left that individual staring in blank bewilderment. - -Golden-haired Mollie was pacing impatiently up and down the parlor when -Mr. Walraven walked in again, his face aglow with triumph. - -"It is all right, Mollie. I told you I was more than a match for your -manager. You have trod the boards for the last time." - -"Excuse me, Mr. Walraven; I am going to tread the boards again to-night. -It is Cricket still. Don't you want to be enchanted once more?" - -"Just as you please. Once is neither here now there. But you will be -ready for the eight A.M. train to-morrow, Mollie?" - -"I have promised, Mr. Walraven, and I always keep my word. So Mr. -Harkner has consented? Now, that is not flattering, is it? What winning -ways you must possess to make all the world do as you say!" - -Mr. Walraven held up his purse, gold shining through its silken meshes. - -"Behold the magic key to every heart, Cricket! Here, you shall be my -purse-bearer now." - -He tossed it into her lap. Mollie's blue eyes sparkled. She was only -seventeen, poor child, and she liked money for what money brought. - -"I shall leave you now," Mr. Walraven said, looking at his watch. "Three -o'clock, Mollie, and time for rehearsal. I shall go and see Cricket -to-night, and to-morrow morning Cricket must be ready to go with me. -Until then, my adopted daughter, adieu!" - -That night, when the green curtain went up, the strange gentleman sat in -the front seat for the second time, and gazed on the antics of Fanchon, -the Cricket. - -The girl played it well, because she played her own willful, tricky -self, and she kissed her taper fingers to the enraptured audience, and -felt sorry to think it might be for the last time. - -Next morning, as demure as a little nun, in her traveling suit of gray, -Miss Cricket took her seat beside her new-made guardian, and was whirled -away to New York. - -"Pray, what am I to call you?" she asked, as they sat side by side. "Am -I to keep at a respectful distance, and say 'Mr. Walraven,' or, as I am -your adopted daughter, is it to be papa?" - -"Well, Cricket, personally I have no objection, of course; but, then, -'papa'--don't you think 'papa' might set people asking questions, now?" - -"Very true; and some clever person might get investigating, and find out -you were my papa in reality." - -"Mollie!" said Mr. Walraven, wincing. - -"That's the way in the melodramas, you see, and you are very like the -hero of a five-act melodrama. Well, Mr. Walraven, decide what I shall -call you!" - -"Suppose you say guardian. That will hit the mark, I think. And we -will tell people who ask troublesome questions that you are the orphan -daughter of a dead cousin of mine. What do you say?" - -"As you please, of course. It is all one to me." - -The train thundered into the depot presently, and there was the usual -turmoil and uproar. Mr. Walraven called a cab, and half an hour's -rattling over the stony streets brought them to the Walraven mansion. - -Mollie Dane, accustomed all her life to dingy hotels and lodgings, -glanced up at the grand staircase and imposing hall in rapturous -surprise. Mme. Walraven stood graciously waiting to receive her. - -"Here's a granddaughter for you, mother," said Mr. Walraven--"a -companion to cheer and brighten your future life. My adopted -daughter--Mollie Dane." - -The stately old lady bent and kissed the bright, fresh face. - -"I am very happy to welcome you, my dear, and will try heartily to make -your new home pleasant. You are tired, of course? Here, Margaret, show -Miss Dane to her room." - -A spruce waiting-maid appeared at the old lady's summons, and led -Miss Dane, through carpeted corridors, into the daintiest of dainty -bed-chambers, all blue silk and white lace drapery, and rich furniture, -and exquisite pictures. - -In all her life long, Mollie had never beheld anything half so -beautiful, and she caught her breath with one little cry of delight. - -"Shall I help you, miss?" very respectfully asked the girl. "I'm to be -your maid, please, and luncheon will be ready by the time you are -dressed." - -Miss Dane permitted her to remove her traveling-dress in ecstatic -silence, and robe her in azure silk, just a shade less blue than her -eyes. - -Very, very pretty she looked, with all her loose golden ringlets, and -that brilliant flush on either cheek; and so Mrs. Walraven and her son -thought when she appeared, like a radiant vision, in the dining-room. - -The afternoon and evening went like a swift dream of delight in viewing -the house and its splendors. She retired early, with a kiss from -guardian and grandmamma, her head in a whirl with the events of the day. - -Margaret's tasks were very light that night; her little mistress did not -detain her ten minutes. When she had gone, and she was fairly alone, -Mollie sprung up and went whirling round the room in a dance of delight. - -"To think of it!" she cried--"to think all my wildest dreams should -come true like this, and my life go on like a fairy tale! There is -Mr. Walraven, the good genii of the story; Mrs. Walraven, the old but -well-meaning fairy godmother; and I'm Cinderella, with the tatters and -rags turned to cloth of gold, and nothing to do but wait at my ease for -the fairy prince, and marry him when he comes. Cricket! Cricket! you're -the luckiest witch's granddaughter that ever danced to her own shadow!" - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -MR. WALRAVEN'S WEDDING. - - -Mollie Dane made herself very much at home at once in the magnificent -Walraven mansion. The dazzle of its glories scarcely lasted beyond the -first day, or, if it did, nobody saw it. Why, indeed, should she be -dazzled? She, who had been Lady Macbeth, and received the Thane of -Cawdor at her own gates; who had been Juliet, the heiress of all the -Capulets; who had seen dukes and nobles snubbed unmercifully every night -of her life by virtuous poverty, on the stage. Before the end of the -first week Mollie had become the light of the house, perfectly -indispensable to the happiness of its inmates. - -Miss Dane was launched into society at a dinner-party given for the -express purpose by "grandmamma". Wondrously pretty looked the youthful -_débutante_, in silvery silk and misty lace and pearls, her eyes like -blue stars, her cheeks like June roses. - -In the wintery dusk of the short December days, Mrs. Walraven -received her guests in the library, an imposing room, oak-paneled, -crimson-draped, and filled from floor to ceiling with a noble collection -of books. Great snow-flakes fluttered against the plate glass, and an -icy blast howled up the avenue, but in the glittering dining-room -flowers bloomed, and birds sung, and tropical fruits perfumed the air; -and radiant under the gas-light, beautiful Miss Dane flashed the light -of her blue eyes, and looked like some lovely little sprite from -fairy-land. - -Miss Blanche Oleander, darkly majestic in maize silk and jewels, sat at -Miss Dane's right hand, and eyed her coldly with jealous dislike. Mollie -read her through at the first glance. - -"She hates me already," thought Mr. Walraven's ward; "and your tall -women, with flashing black eyes and blue-black hair, are apt to be good -haters. Very well, Miss Oleander; it shall be just as you like." - -A gentleman sat on her other hand--a handsome young artist--Mr. Hugh -Ingelow, and he listened with an attentive face, while she held her own -with the sarcastic Blanche, and rather got the best of the battle. - -"The little beauty is no dunce," thought Mr. Hugh Ingelow. "Miss Blanche -has found a foe worthy of her best steel." - -And coming to this conclusion, Mr. Ingelow immediately began making -himself agreeable to his fair neighbor. Miss Oleander was a pet aversion -of his own, and this bond of union drew him and her saucy little -antagonist together at once. - -"Rather a sharp set-to, Miss Dane," the artist remarked, in his lazy -voice. "Miss Oleander is a clever woman, but she is matched at last. -I wonder why it is? You two ought to be good friends." - -He glanced significantly at Mr. Walraven, devoting himself to Miss -Oleander, and Mollie gave her white shoulders a little shrug. - -"If we ought, we never will be. Coming events cast their shadows before, -and I know I shall detest a guardianess. Who is that brigandish-looking -gentleman over there, Mr. Ingelow? He has been staring at me steadily -for the last ten minutes." - -"Lost in speechless admiration, no doubt. That gentleman is the -celebrated Doctor Oleander, own cousin to the fair Blanche." - -The gentleman in question certainly was staring, but his staring was -interrupted at this moment by a general uprising and retreat to the -drawing-room. Mr. Ingelow, on whose arm she leaned, led her to the piano -at once. - -"You sing, I know--Mrs. Walraven has told me. Pray favor us with one -song before some less gifted performer secures this vacant seat." - -"What shall it be?" Mollie asked, running her white fingers over the -keys. - -"Whatever you please--whatever you like best. I shall be sure to like -it." - -Mollie sung brilliantly, and sung her best now. There was dead silence; -no one had expected such a glorious voice as this. Hugh Ingelow's rapt -face showed what he felt as Mollie rose. - -"Miss Dane ought to go upon the stage; she would make her fortune," said -a deep voice at her elbow. - -She turned sharply round and met the dark, sinister eyes and pale face -of Dr. Oleander. - -"Miss Dane forgets me," he said, with a low bow, "among so many -presentations. Will you kindly reintroduce me, Mr. Ingelow?" - -Mr. Ingelow obeyed with no very good grace; the sparkling, blue-eyed -coquette had made wild work with his artist heart already. - -"Mrs. Walraven desired me to bring you to her for a moment," the suave -doctor said, offering his arm. "May I have the honor?" - -Mr. Ingelow's eyes flashed angrily, and Mollie, seeing it, and being -a born coquette, took the proffered arm at once. - -It was the merest trifle grandmamma wanted, but it served the doctor's -turn--he had got the beauty of the evening, and he meant to keep her. - -Mollie listened to his endless flow of complimentary small-talk just -as long as she chose, and then glided coolly away to flirt with a third -adorer, the eminent young lawyer, Mr. Joseph Sardonyx. - -Mollie hovered between those three the livelong evening; now it was -the handsome artist, now the polished doctor, now the witty, satirical -lawyer, flirting in the most unpardonable manner. - -Even Mr. Walraven was a little shocked, and undertook, in the course of -the evening, to expostulate. - -"Flirting is all very well, Mollie," he said, "but it really mustn't be -carried too far. People are beginning to make remarks." - -"Are they?" said Mollie; "about which of us, pray? for really and truly, -guardy, you have been flirting the worst of the two." - -"Nonsense, Mollie! You mean Miss Oleander, I suppose? That is no -flirtation." - -"Indeed! then it is worse--it is serious?" - -"Yes, if asking her to marry me be serious. And she has said yes, -Mollie." - -Miss Dane looked at him compassionately. - -"You poor, unfortunate guardy! And you are really going to marry Blanche -Oleander! Well, one comfort is, you will be ready to blow your brains -out six months after; and serve you right, too! Don't let us talk about -it to-night. I am sorry for you, and if you have any sense left you will -soon be sorry for yourself. Here comes Doctor Oleander, and I mean to be -as fascinating as I know how, just to drive the other two to the verge -of madness." - -She danced away, leaving Mr. Walraven pulling his mustache, a picture of -helpless perplexity. - -"I wonder if I have put my foot in it?" he thought, as he looked -across the long room to where Blanche stood, the brilliant center of a -brilliant group. "She is very handsome and very clever--so clever that -I don't for the life of me know whether I made love to her or she to me. -It is too late now for anything but a wedding or heavy damages, and of -the two evils I prefer the first." - -Mrs. Walraven's dinner-party broke up very late, and Blanche Oleander -went home with her cousin. - -"A pert, forward, bold-faced minx!" Miss Oleander burst out, the moment -they were alone in the carriage. "Guy, what on earth did you mean by -paying her such marked attention all evening?" - -"What did Carl Walraven mean by paying _you_ such marked attention all -evening?" retorted her cousin. - -"Mr. Walraven is no flirt--he means marriage." - -"And I am no flirt--I mean marriage also." - -"Guy, are you mad? Marry that nameless, brazen creature?" - -"Blanche, be civil! Most assuredly I will marry her if she will marry -me." - -"Then you will repent it all the days of your life." - -"Probably. I think I heard Miss Dane making a similar remark to your -affianced about you." - -"The impertinent little wretch! Let her wait until I am Mr. Walraven's -wife!" - -"Vague and terrible! When is it to be?" - -"The wedding? Next month." - -"Poor Walraven! There, Blanche, don't flash up, pray! When you are -married you will want to get blue-eyed Mollie off your hands, so please -transfer her to me, little flash of lightning that she is! I always did -like unbroken colts for the pleasure of taming them." - -Mrs. Walraven was told of her son's approaching marriage the day after -the dinner-party; disapproved, but said nothing. Mollie disapproved, and -said everything. - -"It's of no use talking now, Mollie!" her guardian exclaimed, -impatiently. "I must and will marry Blanche." - -"And, oh! what a pitiable object you will be twelve months after! But -I'll never desert you--never strike my flag to the conqueress. 'The boy -stood on the burning deck.' I'll be a second Casi--what you may call -him? to you. I'll be bride-maid now, and your protector from the lovely -Blanche in the future." - -She kept her word. In spite of Miss Oleander's dislike, she was first -bride-maid when the eventful day arrived. - -But fairer than the bride, fairest of the rosy bevy of bride-maids, -shone blue-eyed Mollie Dane. A party of speechless admirers stood -behind, chief among them Hugh Ingelow. - -The bridal party were drawn up before the surpliced clergyman, and "Who -giveth this woman?" had been asked and answered, and the service was -proceeding in due order when there was a sudden commotion at the door. - -Some one rushed impetuously in, and a voice that rang through the lofty -edifice shouted: - -"Stop! I forbid the marriage!" - -Carl Walraven whirled round aghast. The bride shrieked; the bride-maids -echoed the bride in every note of the gamut--all save Mollie; and she, -like the bridegroom, had recognized the intruder. - -For, tall and gaunt as one of Macbeth's witches, there stood the woman -Miriam! - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -MOLLIE'S CONQUEST. - - -There was a blank pause; every eye fixed on the towering form of the -specter-like woman. - -"I forbid the marriage!" exclaimed Miriam. "Clergyman, on your peril you -unite those two!" - -"The woman is mad!" cried Carl Walraven, white with rage. "Men, turn her -out!" - -"Stop!" said Mollie--"stop one moment I know this woman, and will see -what she means." - -No one interfered; every one gazed in breathless interest as Miss Dane -quitted her post and confronted the haggard apparition. The woman -uttered a cry at sight of her, and caught her impetuously by the arm. - -"Mad girl! have you forgotten what I told you? Would you marry that -man?" - -"Marry what man? What do you mean? I am not going to marry any man -to-day. It is you who have gone mad, I think." - -"Why, then, do you wear those bridal robes?" - -"Bride-maid robes, if you please. Gracious me, Miriam, you didn't think -I was going to marry Mr. Walraven, did you?" - -Miriam passed her hand over her brow with a bewildered air. - -"Whom, then, is it, if not you?" - -"Miss Blanche Oleander, of course, as anyone could have told you, if -you had taken the trouble to ask before rushing in here and making a -scene." - -"I only heard last night he was to be married," Miriam said, with a -bewildered face, "and took it for granted that it must be you." - -"Then you must have had a poorer opinion of my taste than I should have -thought it possible for you to have. Come in and beg everybody's pardon, -and tell them it was all a shocking mistake." - -"One word first: Are you well and happy?" - -"Perfectly well, and happy as a queen. Come on; there is no time to -lose. People are staring dreadfully, and the bride is glaring with rage. -Quick--come!" - -She flitted back to her place, and Miriam, stepping forward, addressed -the assembly: - -"I ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen. I have made a mistake. I -thought the bride was Miss Dane. I beg the ceremony will proceed." - -She pulled a veil she wore down over her gaunt face, and with the last -word hurried out and disappeared. Mr. Walraven, suppressing his rage, -turned to the minister. - -"Proceed!" he said, impatiently, "and make haste." - -The bride, very white with anger and mortification, resumed her place; -the ceremony recommenced. This time there was no interruption, and in -ten minutes the twain were one flesh. - -Half an hour later they were back at the Walraven mansion to eat the -wedding-breakfast, and then the new-made Mrs. Walraven, with an eye that -flashed and a voice that rang, turned upon her liege lord and demanded -an explanation. Mr. Walraven shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. - -"My dearest Blanche, I have none to give. The woman must be mad. -Speak to Mollie." - -"Carl Walraven, do not dare to deceive me on my wedding-day. You know -more of this than you choose to say." - -"Mrs. Walraven, do not raise your angel voice to such a pitch for -nothing. I said before, speak to Mollie. I say again, speak to Mollie; -and here she is." - -"So she is," said Miss Dane, sauntering in. "Do you want me to allay -a post-nuptial storm already? Auspicious beginning! What is it?" - -"Who was that woman?" demanded the bride. - -"A very old friend of mine, madame." - -"Why did she come to the church and try to stop the marriage?" - -"Because she thought I was the bride. She said so, didn't she? And being -very well acquainted with me, she was moved with compassion for the -deluded man and came to warn him in time. I explained her little -mistake, as you saw, and she apologized handsomely, and--exit, Miriam. -Isn't that satisfactory?" - -"Are you speaking the truth?" - -Miss Dane laid her hand upon her heart, and bowed profoundly. - -"Doesn't Mr. Walraven know her?" - -"That is a question I can not take it upon myself to answer. Mr. -Walraven is of age. Let him speak for himself." - -"I told you before," said the bridegroom, angrily. "Let us have no more -about it, Blanche, or I may chance to lose my temper." - -He turned on his heel and walked off whistling, and the bride, in her -snowy robes and laces, went down to breakfast, trying vainly to clear -her stormy brow. Mollie puckered up her rosy lips into a shrill whistle. - -"And this is their wedding-day! I told him how it would be, but of -course nobody ever minds what I say. Poor guardy! what ever would become -of him traveling alone with that woman! How thankful he ought to be that -he has me to go along and take care of him!" - -For Mollie had made it an express stipulation, contrary to all -precedent, that she was to accompany the happy pair on their bridal -tour. Miss Oleander's ante-nuptial objections had been faint; Mrs. -Walraven, less scrupulous, turned upon her husband at the eleventh hour, -just previous to starting, and insisted that she should be left at home. - -"It will be ridiculous in the extreme," exclaimed the bride, "having -your ward traveling with us! Let her remain at home with your mother." - -Mr. Walraven looked his bride steadfastly in the eye for a moment, then -sat down deliberately. - -"Look here, Mrs. Walraven," said Mr. Walraven, perfectly cool, "you -have made a little mistake, I fancy. Permit me to rectify it. Wearing -the breeches is a vulgar expression, I am aware, and only admissible -in low circles; still, it so forcibly expresses what I am trying to -express, that you will allow me to use it. You are trying to don the -inexpressibles, Blanche, but it won't do. My ward goes with us on our -bridal tour, or there shall be no bridal tour at all. There! you have it -in plain English, Mrs. Carl Walraven!" - -Five minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Walraven descended to the carriage, Mrs. -Walraven with her veil drawn down, and making her adieus in a smothered -sort of voice. Mr. Walraven handed in his ward next, then followed; the -coachman flourished his whip and they were gone. - -The happy pair were merely going to Washington. Mr. Walraven had had a -surfeit of Europe, and Washington, this sparkling winter weather, was at -its gayest and best. The Walraven party, with plethoric purses, plunged -into the midst of the gayety at once. - -"I like this sort of thing," said Mollie to her guardian; "the theater, -and the opera, and a ball, and two or three parties every night. I like -dancing until broad daylight, and going to bed at six in the morning, -and getting up to breakfast at one. I like matinees at three in the -afternoon, and dinners with seventeen courses, and going to the White -House, and shaking hands with the President, and sailing around the East -Room, and having people point me out as the beauty of the season. It's -new and it's nice, and I never get tired, or pale, or limpy, like most -of the girls. I never enjoyed myself so much in my life, and you would -say the same thing, guardy, only you're in your honey-moon, and not -capable of enjoying anything." - -"But, Mollie," Mr. Walraven remonstrated, "it isn't right to flirt so -much as you do. There's young Ingelow. The way you devoted yourself to -that young man last night set everybody talking." - -"Let 'em talk," responded Miss Dane, loftily. "When Mr. Ingelow followed -me all the way from New York, I think it was the very least I could do -in common politeness. He found it a waste and howling wilderness without -me--yes, he did; he said so. And then, Mr. Walraven, I like him." - -"You like him?" - -"Yes, ever and ever so much; and I'm dreadfully sorry for him, because -I know it'll break his heart when I refuse him." - -"He hasn't proposed yet, then?" - -"Not yet, but I expect it shortly. I know the symptoms. He looked almost -as sheepish last night as you used to before you proposed to Miss -Oleander." - -It was quite true; the handsome young artist had followed Miss Dane to -Washington. He had hardly known how much he was in love with her until -she was gone, and all young-ladydom grew flat, stale, and insipid as -dish-water. - -Mr. Ingelow, of rather an indolent temperament, disposed to take things -easy and let the world slide, was astonished himself at the sudden heat -and ardor this little girl with the sunny smile had created within him. - -"It isn't her beauty," thought the handsome artist, "although she is -pretty as an angel; it isn't her blue eyes and her golden hair, for I -see blue eyes and golden hair every day of my life, and never give them -a second thought; it isn't her singing or dancing, for half the girls I -know sing and dance as well; and it can't be her spirited style of -conversation, for that's not so very new, either. Then what is it?" - -Mr. Ingelow, at this point, always fell into such a morass of pros and -cons that his brain grew dazed, and he gave the problem up altogether. -But the great, incontrovertible fact remained--he was headlong in love -with Mollie, and had followed her to Washington expressly to tell her -so. - -"For if I wait, and she returns to New York," mused Mr. Ingelow, "I will -have Oleander and Sardonyx both neck and neck in the race. Here there is -a fair field and no favor, and here I will try my luck." - -But Mr. Ingelow was mistaken, for here in his "fair field" appeared the -most formidable rival he could possibly have had--a rival who seemed -likely to eclipse himself and Oleander and Sardonyx at one fell swoop. - -At the presidential levees, on public promenades and drives, Miss Dane -had noticed a tall, white-haired, aristocratic-looking gentleman -attentively watching her as if fascinated. Every place she appeared in -public this distinguished-looking gentleman hovered in the background -like her shadow. - -"Who is that venerable old party," she demanded, impatiently, "that -haunts me like an uneasy ghost? Can I be a lost daughter of his, with a -strawberry mark somewhere, or do I bear an unearthly resemblance to some -lovely being he murdered in early life? Who is he?" - -And the answer came, nearly taking away Cricket's breath: - -"Sir Roger Trajenna, the great Welsh baronet, worth nobody knows how -many millions, and with castles by the dozen in his own land of -mountains." - -It was Mr. Ingelow who gave her the information, and the occasion was -a brilliant ball. Mollie had often heard of the Welsh baronet, but this -was the first time she had encountered him at a ball or party. - -"I thought that Sir Roger Trajenna never accepted invitations," she -said, opening and shutting her fan. "This is the first time I ever saw -him at a private party." - -"I think I know the reason," responded Mr. Ingelow. "Rumor sets him down -as the last in Miss Dane's list of killed and wounded." - -"So I have heard," said Mollie, coolly; "but it is too good to be true. -I should dearly love to be my lady and live in a Welsh castle." - -"With sixty-five years and a hoary head for a husband?" - -"How painfully accurate you are! With his countless millions and his -ancestral castles, what does a little disparity of years signify?" - -"Miss Dane," asked Mr. Ingelow, very earnestly, "would you accept that -old man if he asked you?" - -"My dear Mr. Ingelow, what a dreadfully point-blank question! So very -embarrassing! I thought you knew better!" - -"I beg your pardon. But, Miss Dane, as a sincere friend, may I ask an -answer?" - -"Well, then, as a friend, I can't say for certain, but I am afraid--I am -very much afraid I would say--" - -"Miss Dane, permit me!" exclaimed a voice at her elbow--"Sir Roger -Trajenna, Miss Dane." - -Miss Dane turned calmly round to her hostess and _the_ guest of the -evening, and graciously received the venerable baronet's profound bow. -At the same instant the music of a waltz struck up, to the jealous -artist's infinite relief. - -"Now, then, Miss Dane, if you are ready," said Mr. Ingelow, rather -imperiously. - -"Excuse me, Mr. Ingelow," replied Miss Dane, with infinite calm; "I am -really too much fatigued for this waltz. Sir Roger, some one is singing -yonder. I should like to hear him." - -And under Mr. Ingelow's angry eyes, she took the enraptured old -baronet's arm and walked away. - -"The hoary dotard!" muttered the artist, glaring and grinding his teeth; -"the sixty-five-year-old imbecile! It is the first time I ever heard her -decline a waltz under the plea of fatigue. She's a heartless coquette, -that Mollie Dane, and I am a fool to waste a second thought upon her." - -Miss Dane danced no more that evening, and Sir Roger never left her -side. She talked to him until his old eyes sparkled; she smiled upon him -until his brain swam with delight. - -And that was but the beginning. The torments Mr. Hugh Ingelow suffered -for the ensuing two weeks words are too weak to describe. To cap the -climax, Dr. Oleander suddenly appeared upon the scene and glowered under -bent black brows at coquettish Mollie. - -"The idea of being civil to anything so commonplace as a mere doctor," -Miss Dane said to her guardian, when taken to task for the airs she -assumed, "when Welsh baronets are ready to go down on their knees and -worship the ground I walk on! If he doesn't like the way he is treated, -he knows the way back to New York. I never sent for him to come here." - -Sir Roger's devotion was inexpressible. No wonder Mollie was dazzled. -The city was on the _qui vive_. The piquant little New York beauty, whom -the men adored and the women abused, had caught the golden prize. Would -he really ask her to become Lady Trajenna, or would the glamour wear off -and leave the saucy little flirt stranded high and dry? - -The last night of Mr. Walraven's stay in Washington settled that -question. They were at a grand reception, Mrs. Walraven magnificent in -moiré and diamonds, and Mollie floating about in a cloud of misty pink, -and sparkling pearls, and amber tresses. There, of course, was Sir -Roger, and there (also, of course) were Dr. Oleander and Hugh Ingelow -in a state of frantic jealousy. - -It had come, long ere this, to be a settled thing that the Welsh baronet -should never leave her side, except while she was dancing. So that when, -a little before supper, they strolled out on the piazza, it was nothing -surprising or remarkable. - -The winter night was windless and mild. Sir Roger's asthmatic and -rheumatic afflictions were quite safe in the warm atmosphere. Moonlight -flooded everything with its misty glory, stars spangled the sky, music -came softened by distance from the ball-room--all was conducive to love -and to love-making. Sir Roger Trajenna, inspired by the music, the -moonlight, and the charming little beauty beside him, there and then -laid name, heart, and fortune at Miss Dane's fair feet. - -There was a pause. Even Mollie felt a little fluttered, now that the -time had come. - -"I know the disparity of years is great," the baronet said, quite -trembling in his eagerness; "but my whole existence will be devoted to -you; every pleasure wealth can purchase shall be yours; every wish that -I can anticipate shall be anticipated. You will be my darling, my idol. -I love you passionately. Say not, then, I am too old." - -"I don't," said Mollie--"I don't mind your age in the least. I rather -dislike young men; I've had such a surfeit of them." - -"Then I may hope?" breathlessly. - -"Oh, yes, Sir Roger, you may hope. I am not in love with anybody else -that I know of." - -"And you will be my wife?" - -"Ah, that's another thing! I don't seem to care about being married, -somehow. You must give me time, Sir Roger. Come, let us go in to supper. -I will tell you by and by." - -"As you please, my beautiful Mollie. Only don't keep me waiting too -long, and let your answer be 'yes' when it comes." - -Miss Dane partook of supper with a very good appetite, accepted Mr. -Ingelow for a waltz and Dr. Oleander for a quadrille, smiled sweetly and -graciously upon both, and took Sir Roger's arm, at the close of the -ball, for the carriage. - -"Well, Miss Dane--Mollie!" the baronet said, eagerly, "have you decided? -What is it to be--yes or no?" - -And Mollie looked up in his face with those starry, azure eyes, and that -bewildering smile, and answered sweetly: - -"Yes!" - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -MOLLIE'S MISCHIEF. - - -Miss Dane returned to New York "engaged," and with the fact known to -none save herself and the enraptured Welshman. - -"There is no need to be in a hurry," the young lady said to her -elderly adorer; "and I want to be safely at home before I overwhelm -them with the news. There is always such fussing and talking made over -engagements, and an engagement is dreadfully humdrum and doweryish -anyhow." - -That was what Miss Dane said. What she thought was entirely another -matter. - -"I do want Doctor Oleander and Mr. Sardonyx to propose; and if they -discover I've accepted the baronet, they won't. I am dying to see -the wry faces they will make over 'No, thanks!' Then there is Hugh -Ingelow--" - -But Mollie's train of wicked thoughts was apt to break off at this -point, and a remorseful expression cloud her blue eyes. - -"Poor Hugh! Poor fellow! It's a little too bad to treat him so; and -he's dreadfully fond of me, too. But, then, it's impossible to help it; -of course it is. I want to be rich, and wear diamonds, and travel over -the world, and be 'My Lady!' and poor, dear Hugh couldn't keep a cat -properly. Ah! what a pity all the nice men, and the handsome men, must -be poor!" - -Faithfully in the train of the Walraven party returned Mollie's adorers. -No one was surprised at the continued devotion of Messrs. Ingelow and -Oleander; but every one was surprised at Sir Roger Trajenna. - -"Is it possible that proud old man has really fallen seriously in love -with that yellow-haired, flighty child?" asked Mrs. Carl Walraven in -angry surprise. "He was attentive at Washington, certainly; but I -fancied his absurd old eyes were only caught for the moment. If it -should prove serious, what a thing it will be for her! and these -antediluvians, in their dotage, will do such ridiculous things. My -Lady Trajenna! Detestable little minx! I should like to poison her!" - -Miss Dane carried on her flirtations, despite her engagement, with her -three more youthful admirers. - -Now and then Sir Roger, looking on with doting, but disapproving eyes, -ventured on a feeble remonstrance. - -"It is unfair to yourself and unfair to me, my darling," he said. "Every -smile you bestow upon them is a stab to me. Do let me speak to Mr. -Walraven, and end it at once." - -But still Mollie refused to consent. - -"No, no, Sir Roger; let me have my own way a little longer. There is no -need of your being jealous. I don't care a straw for the three of them. -Only it is such fun. Wait a little longer." - -Of course the fair-haired despot had her way. - -The second week of their return Mr. and Mrs. Walraven were "at home" to -their friends, and once more the spacious halls and stair-ways were -ablaze with illumination, and the long ranges of rooms, opening one into -another, were radiant with light, and flowers, and music, and brilliant -ladies. - -Mrs. Walraven, superb in her bridal robes, stood beside her husband, -receiving their guests. And Miss Mollie Dane, in shimmering silk, that -blushed as she walked, and clusters of water-lilies drooping from her -tinseled curls, was as lovely as Venus rising from the sea-foam. - -Here, there, everywhere, she flashed like a gleam of light; waltzing -with the dreamy-eyed artist, Hugh Ingelow, hanging on the arm of Dr. -Oleander, chattering like a magpie with Lawyer Sardonyx, and anon -laughing at all three with Sir Roger Trajenna. - -You might as well have tried to regulate the vagaries of a comet--as -well guess from what quarter the fickle wind would next blow. - -"Women are all puzzles," said Dr. Oleander, in quiet despair to Mrs. -Walraven. "That is a truism long and tried; but, by Jove! Miss Mollie -Dane puts the toppers on the lot. I never met with such a bewildering -sprite." - -"Odious, artful creature!" hissed the bride of Carl Walraven. "It is -all her crafty scheming to attract the attention of that hoary-headed -simpleton, Sir Roger Trajenna. If you are in love with her, Guy (and how -you can is a mystery to me), why don't you propose at once?" - -"Because I am afraid, madame." - -"Afraid!" scornfully--"afraid of a goosey girl of seventeen! I never -took you for a born idiot before, Guy Oleander." - -"Thanks, my fair relative! But it is quite as disagreeable to be refused -by a 'goosey girl of seventeen' as by a young lady of seven-and-twenty. -Your age, my dear Blanche, is it not?" - -"Never mind my age!" retorted Mrs. Walraven, sharply. "My age has -nothing to do with it. If you don't ask Mollie Dane to-night, Hugh -Ingelow or James Sardonyx will to-morrow, and the chances are ten to -one she accepts the first one who proposes." - -"Indeed! Why?" - -"Oh, for the sake of being engaged, being a heroine, being talked about. -She likes to be talked about, this bewildering fairy of yours. She isn't -in love with any of you; that I can see. It isn't in her shallow nature, -I suppose, to be in love with anybody but her own precious self." - -"My dear Mrs. Walraven, are you not a little severe? Poor, blue-eyed -Mollie! And you think, if I speak to-night, I stand a chance?" - -"A better chance than if you defer it. She may say 'yes' on the impulse -of the moment. If she does, trust me to make her keep her word." - -"How?" - -"That is my affair. Ah! what, was that?" - -The cousins were standing near one of the long, richly draped windows, -and the silken hangings had fluttered suddenly. - -"Nothing but the wind," replied Dr. Oleander, carelessly. "Very well, -Blanche, I take you at your word. I will ask Mollie to-night." - -Mrs. Walraven nodded, and turned to go. - -"Ask her as quickly as possible. You are to dance the polka quadrille -with her, are you not? After the polka quadrille, then. And now let us -part, or they will begin to think we are hatching another Gunpowder -Plot." - -"Or Mr. Carl Walraven may be jealous," suggested Dr. Oleander, with an -unpleasant laugh. "I say, Blanche, the golden-haired Mollie couldn't be -his daughter, could she?" - -Mrs. Walraven's black eyes flashed. - -"Whoever she is, the sooner she is out of this house the better. I hate -her, Doctor Oleander--your Fair One with the Golden Locks, and I could -go to her funeral with the greatest pleasure!" - -The plotting pair separated. Hardly were they gone when the silken -curtains parted and a bright face, framed in yellow ringlets, peeped -out, sparkling with mischief. - -"Two women in one house, two cats over one mouse, never agree," quoth -Mollie. "Listeners never hear any good of themselves, but, oh! the -opportunity was irresistible. So Doctor Guy Oleander is going to -propose, and Mollie Dane is to say 'yes' on the impulse of the moment, -and Mamma Blanche is to make her stick to her word! And it's all to -happen after the polka quadrille! Very well; I'm ready. If Doctor -Oleander and his cousin don't find their match, my name's not Mollie!" - -Miss Dane consulted her jeweled tablets, and discovered that the polka -quadrille was the very next in order. - -Shaking out her rosy skirts, she fluttered away, mercilessly bent on -manslaughter. Every one made way for the daughter of the house, and in -a moment she was beside Dr. Oleander, holding up the inlaid tablets, and -smiling her brightest in his dazzled eyes. - -"Such disgraceful conduct, Doctor Oleander! I have been searching for -you everywhere. I appeal to you, Colonel Marshland; he engaged me for -this quadrille. There is the music now, and he leaves me to hunt the -house for him." - -"Unpardonable," said the gallant colonel. "At his age I should have -known better. Oleander, make your peace if you can." - -The colonel made his bow, and then he walked away. - -Dr. Oleander drew her arm inside his own, bending very low over the -sparkling sprite. - -"You are not implacable, I trust, Miss Mollie. It was all the colonel's -fault, I assure you." - -Mollie shrugged her shoulders. - -"Of course you say so. Oh, don't wear that imploring face! I forgive -you; but sin no more. There! they are waiting--come!" - -All through the dance Miss Dane sparkled as she had never sparkled -Before. Ere the quadrille was over, Dr. Oleander was ten fathoms deeper -in love than ever. - -"It is so very hot here!" Mollie exclaimed, impatiently--"perfectly -stifling! Do let us go somewhere and get cool." - -"Let us go into the conservatory," said Dr. Oleander, delightedly, quite -unconscious that his fair enslaver was playing into his hand. "We are -sure to find solitude and coolness there." - -The conservatory was delightfully cool, after the African temperature of -the ball-room. Alabaster lamps shed a pale sort of moonlight over the -sleeping flowers, and splashing fountains, and marble goddesses. - -Miss Dane sunk down under a large orange-tree and began fanning herself -languidly. - -"How nice--this half light, these perfumed roses, those tinkling -water-falls, music, and solitude! Do I look like Love among the Roses, -Doctor Oleander?" - -"Yes; like Love, like Venus, like everything that is bright, and -beautiful, and irresistible, Miss Dane!" - -"Monsieur overwhelms me! Why, good gracious, sir! What do you mean?" - -For Dr. Oleander had actually caught her in his arms and was pouring -forth a passionate declaration of love. - -"Goodness me! Release me instantly! How dare you, sir? Have you taken -leave of your senses, Doctor Oleander?" - -"I am mad for love of you, beautiful Mollie! I adore you with my whole -heart!" - -"Do you, indeed?" said Mollie, looking angrily at her ruffled plumage. -"See my dress--not fit to be seen! I'm surprised at you, Doctor -Oleander!" - -"Mollie, I love you!" - -"I don't care--that's no reason why you should spoil my lovely dress, -and make me a perfect fright. You had no business going on in that -outrageous manner, sir!" - -"But, Mollie! Good heavens! will you listen to me? Never mind your -dress." - -"Never mind my dress?" cried Miss Dane, shrilly. "Doctor Oleander, -you're a perfect bear, and I've a good mind never to speak to you again -as long as I live! Let us go back to the ball-room. If I had known you -were going to act so, I'd have seen you considerably inconvenienced -before I came with you here." - -"Not until you answer me, Mollie." - -"Answer you? Answer you what? You haven't asked me any question." - -"I told you I loved you." - -"Well," testily, "you don't call that a question?" - -"Mollie, will you love me?" - -"No--of course not! Oh, what a torment you are! Do let us go back!" - -"Never!" exclaimed Dr. Oleander, gathering hope--"never, Mollie, until -you answer me!" - -He caught both her hands and held them fast, Mollie struggling in vain. - -"Oh, dear, dear, what will I say? And there--if there isn't some one -coming in! Let me go, for pity's sake, and I'll answer you--to-morrow." - -"To-night, Mollie--to-night!" - -"I won't--there!" wrenching her hands free and springing up. "Come -to-morrow, between twelve and one, and you shall have your answer." - -She darted away, and almost into the arms of Mr. Hugh Ingelow. That -gentleman looked suspiciously from her to Dr. Oleander, emerging from -the shadow of the orange-tree. - -"Am I _de trop_, Miss Dane? I thought to find the conservatory -deserted." - -"And so it will be, in a minute," said Mollie, familiarly taking his -arm. "They are going to supper out yonder, and I am almost famished. -Take me down." - -"And, if I can, I will make you follow Guy Oleander's lead before I -release you," was the mental addition of the naughty coquette. - -It was no difficult task to accomplish. A powder magazine with the train -laid could not have needed a smaller spark to cause its explosion. Those -few words elevated the young artist at once to the loftiest pinnacle of -bliss. - -"She has just refused Oleander, and I may stand a chance," he thought. -"I'll ask her, by Jove! after supper." - -Mr. Ingelow kept his word. He paid Miss Dane the most marked attention -throughout the repast, filled her plate with delicacies and her ears -with compliments. And Mollie was sweet as summer cherries, and took his -arm when it was over, and let him lead her into a retired nook where -amber curtains shut them in; and there, pale and agitated, the poor -fellow said his say and waited for his sentence. - -Mollie's wicked heart smote her. She liked this handsome young artist -more than she was aware of, and the first twinge of remorse for her -merciless coquetry filled her mind. - -But it was too late to pause in her mischief-making, and the fun ahead -was too tempting. - -"Speak, Miss Dane," Mr. Ingelow implored: "for pity's sake, don't say -you have led me on only to jilt me in cold blood at the last!" - -"Rather strong language, Mr. Ingelow," said Mollie, coolly pulling to -pieces a rose. "I have not led you on, have I? I have been friendly with -you because I liked you--as I have been with a dozen others." - -"Then I am to consider myself rejected, Miss Dane?" - -He stood up before her, very white, with eyes of unspeakable reproach. - -"What a hurry you are in!" said Mollie, pettishly. "Give me until -to-morrow. I will think it over. Between twelve and one I will be at -home; come then and you shall have your answer. There! let us go back to -the ball-room. I have promised this redowa to Mr. Sardonyx." - -Mr. Ingelow, in profound silence, led Miss Dane back to the ball-room, -where they found the elegant lawyer searching for his partner. - -"I thought you had forgotten me, Miss Dane," he said, taking her off at -once. - -"Impossible, Mr. Sardonyx," laughed Mollie. "So sorry to have kept you -waiting; but better late than never." - -That dance was the old story over again. At its close the lawyer was so -bewitched that he hardly knew whether he stood on his head or heels. - -"It is coming!" thought wicked Mollie, looking sideways at him, "and -only wants a proper place to come in." - -Aloud: "It is so warm here--I feel quite faint, really. Suppose we step -out on the piazza a moment?" - -An instant later and they emerged through the drawing-room window to the -piazza, Mollie wrapped in a scarlet shawl, along which her bright curls -waved like sunshine. The night was still, warm, and moonlight; the -twinkling lights of the great city shone like a shower of stars. - -And here, for the third time that eventful night, Mollie Dane listened -to an ardent avowal of love. For the third time the long lashes drooped -over the mischievous eyes. - -"This is so sudden--so unexpected--Mr. Sardonyx! I feel highly -complimented, of course; but still you must pardon me if I do not reply -at once. Give me until to-morrow, at noon. Come then and you will be -answered." - -She fluttered away like a spirit with the last words, leaving the -hopeful lawyer standing in ecstasy. Of course she meant to accept him, -or she would have refused him on the spot. - -For the rest of the time Miss Dane was exclusively the Welsh baronet's, -and listened with unruffled serenity to his reproaches. - -"You are driving me distracted, Mollie," he said, piteously. "You must -let me speak to your guardian without further delay. I insist upon it." - -"Very well," replied Miss Dane, calmly. "As you please, certainly. You -may tell him to-morrow. Let me see: at noon Mr. Walraven will be at home -and alone. Come at noon." - -The party was over--a brilliant success. - -Mrs. Walraven had been admired, and Miss Dane had scandalized the best -metropolitan society worse than ever. - -"And, oh!" thought that wicked witch, as she laid her curly head on the -pillow in the gray dawn, "won't there be fun by and by?" - -Mrs. Walraven descended to breakfast at half past ten, and announced her -intention of spending the remainder of the morning shopping. - -Mollie, in a charming demi-toilet, and looking as fresh as though -she had not danced incessantly the whole night before, heard the -announcement with secret satisfaction. - -"Are you going, too, Mollie?" asked her guardian. - -"No," said Mollie; "I'm going to stay at home and entertain Sir Roger -Trajenna. He is coming to luncheon." - -"Seems to me, Cricket," said Mr. Walraven, "Sir Roger Trajenna hangs -after you like your shadow. What does it mean?" - -"It means--making your charming ward Lady Trajenna; if he can, of -course." - -"But he's as old as the hills, Mollie." - -"Then I'll be a fascinating young widow all the sooner." - -"Disgusting!" exclaimed Mrs. Carl Walraven. "You are perfectly -heartless, Mollie Dane!" - -She swept from the room to dress for her shopping expedition. It was -almost twelve when she was fairly off, and then Mollie summoned her maid -and gave her sundry directions with a very serious face. - -"I am going to spend the morning in the blue room, Margaret," she said; -"and I expect four gentlemen to call--Sir Roger Trajenna, Mr. Ingelow, -Doctor Oleander, and Mr. Sardonyx." - -"Yes, miss," said Margaret. - -"Sir Roger you will show at once into the blue room," pursued the young -lady; "Mr. Ingelow into the library: Doctor Oleander into the -drawing-room, and Mr. Sardonyx into the breakfast-parlor. Do you -understand?" - -"Yes, miss," said Margaret. - -"Very well, then; that will do. I am going to the blue room now, and -don't you forget my directions, or I shall box your ears." - -Miss Dane sailed off. Margaret looked after her with a queer face. - -"She'd do it, too! I wonder what all this means? Some piece of mischief, -I'll be bound!" - -The baronet arrived, prompt to the hour, and was ushered at once into -the presence of his enchantress. Fifteen minutes after came Dr. -Oleander, shown by demure Margaret into the drawing-room; and scarcely -was he seated when ting-a-ling! went the bell, and the door was opened -to Mr. Hugh Ingelow. Mr. Ingelow was left to compose himself in the -library. Then there was a pause, and then, last of all, arrived Mr. -Sardonyx. - -The blue room bell rang. Margaret ran up and met her mistress at the -door. - -"Are they all down-stairs, Margaret?" in a whisper. - -"Yes, miss." - -"Then show them up in the order they arrived. I don't want Sir Roger to -know they've been kept waiting." - -Margaret obeyed. In two minutes she opened the blue-room door, and -announced Dr. Oleander. - -The doctor advanced with an expectant smile; recoiled, a second later, -at sight of the baronet, with a frown. - -"Good-day, doctor," said Miss Dane, politely. "Happy to see you. Lovely -morning, is it not?" - -The doctor dropped into a seat. Hardly had he taken it, when--"Mr. -Ingelow!" exclaimed Margaret, opening the door. - -Mr. Ingelow started, and stared at sight of the trio, where he had -looked for but one. - -Miss Dane greeted him with smiling cordiality, and there was nothing for -it but to sink into a chair. - -Before Mollie's last word of welcome was uttered, the door opened for -the third time, and enter Mr. Sardonyx. - -The tableau was indescribably ludicrous. The four men glared at one -another vengefully, and then four pairs of eyes turned indignantly upon -Miss Dane for an explanation. They had it. - -"Gentlemen," said Miss Dane, with her sweetest smile, "I invited you -here this morning because you are very particular friends, and I wished -to give you an agreeable surprise before all the avenue knows it. Doctor -Oleander, Mr. Ingelow, Mr. Sardonyx, allow me to present to you my -plighted husband, Sir Roger Trajenna." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -MOLLIE'S BRIDAL. - - -Imagine that tableau! - -For an instant there was dead silence; a bomb bursting in their midst -could hardly have startled them more. Mollie dared not look in their -faces, lest the inward laughter that convulsed her should burst forth. - -Sir Roger Trajenna, a little surprised, yet bowed with gentlemanly ease, -while the three young men sat perfectly thunder-struck. - -The dead blank was broken by Dr. Oleander. - -"Permit me to congratulate Sir Roger Trajenna," he said, bowing to -that gentleman; "and permit me to thank Miss Dane for this exceedingly -unexpected mark of preference. If it is ever in my power to return your -condescension, Miss Mollie, believe me you will find my memory good. I -wish you all good-morning." - -His immovable face had not changed, but his gray eyes flashed one -bright, fierce glance at Mollie, that said, plainly as words, "I will -have revenge for this insult as sure as my name is Guy Oleander". - -But saucy Mollie only answered that sinister look by her brightest -glance and smile; and taking his hat, Dr. Oleander strode away. - -Then Mr. Sardonyx arose. He had been sitting like a statue, but -the words and departure of his fellow-victim seemed to restore -consciousness. - -"Am I to understand, Miss Dane, that this is the answer you meant when -you invited me here to-day?" he sternly asked. - -"Did I really invite you? Oh, yes! Of course, Mr. Sardonyx, it must -have been. I purposely kept my engagement secret since my return from -Washington in order to give you an agreeable surprise." - -"I am exceedingly obliged to you. Believe me, I will prove my gratitude -if ever opportunity offers." - -Miss Dane bowed and smiled. Sir Roger looked hopelessly bewildered. Mr. -Sardonyx took his hat. - -"Farewell, Miss Dane, and many thanks." - -He was gone. Hugh Ingelow alone remained--Hugh Ingelow, white and cold -as a dead man. Mollie's heart smote her cruelly for the second time at -sight of him. He arose as the lawyer disappeared. - -"You have nothing more to say to me, Miss Dane?" - -Mollie lifted her eyebrows. - -"My dear Mr. Ingelow, what should I possibly have to say to you, except -that we will always be most happy to see you--Sir Roger and I?" - -"Always," echoed the baronet, with a stately bend. - -"You are very kind. Good-day, Sir Roger Trajenna. Congratulations on so -eminently suitable a match would be preposterous. Farewell, Miss Dane. -I, too, know how to remember!" - -With the words he passed out. Sir Roger turned with something like a -frown to his bride-elect. - -"What does it mean, Mollie?" - -Mollie laughed--such a gay, girlish laugh! - -"Can't you see, Sir Roger? They are nearly frantic with jealousy, the -three of them. What fun it was to see them sitting there and scowling -at one another!" - -"But they threatened, did they not?" the baronet asked, still frowning. - -"Did they? They said they would remember, and I think it is very likely -they will. Poor fellows! It was natural, and I don't mind." - -"And when am I to speak to your guardian now?" - -"As soon as you please--after luncheon, if you like. I don't suppose -he'll object." - -"Certainly not," Sir Roger said, proudly; "and then, my dearest, when am -I to have my lovely little wife?" - -"Oh, I don't know! It isn't well to be in any hurry. Wait a year or -two." - -"A year or two!" cried Sir Roger, in much the same tone as if she had -said a century or two. "Impossible--utterly impossible, Mollie!" - -"Well, then, a month or two. I am not in any hurry to be married, and I -don't see why you should be." - -"My darling little Mollie, if you loved me half as much as I love you, -you would understand. And you will really be mine in a month?" - -"Or two. Yes, if you insist upon it. If I am to be Lady Trajenna first -or last, it may as well be first, I suppose." - -"And you will not change your mind?" - -"Of course not," said Mollie, indignantly. "When Mollie Dane gives her -word, the laws of the Medes and--what's their names?--are nothing to it. -Don't tease, Sir Roger. When I promise a thing, it's as good as done." - -Mollie danced away to the piano, and held her infatuated baronet -spell-bound until luncheon time. - -At table Mr. and Mrs. Walraven met them, and immediately after the meal -the baronet formally requested the pleasure of a private interview. - -"Can he really be going to ask for Mollie?" thought Mr. Walraven. "Upon -my word, if he is, this is quite a new role for me--playing the part of -venerable parent, and that to a white-haired gentleman who numbers a -round score more years than myself." - -He led the way to his study, followed by the baronet. And Sir Roger came -to the point at once, calmly, proudly, with grave dignity. - -"The disparity of years is great, I know," he said. "But if she is -willing to overlook that objection, you surely may. There is no other -drawback that I am aware of. A Trajenna, of Trajenna, might mate with -the highest in England." - -He lifted his white, erect head haughtily, and looked Carl Walraven full -in the face. Mr. Walraven held out his hand and grasped the baroness's -cordially. - -"My dear Sir Roger, I am proud and happy beyond expression. Mollie may -consider herself a fortunate girl to escape the wild young scapegraces -who dangle after her, and find a husband in a man like you. She stands -alone in the world, poor child, without father or mother. You, Sir -Roger, must be all the world to her now." - -"Heaven helping me, I will!" the old man said, earnestly. - -"My whole life shall be devoted to her happiness." - -"And when is it to be?" Mr. Walraven asked, with a smile. "I presume you -and Mollie have settled that?" - -"In two months. It will be spring then; and we can start at once for -Wales. I long to show my fairy bride old Trajenna Castle." - -"We shall miss her very much:" and Carl Walraven sighed in good earnest -as he said it. "She has been the sunlight of our home. My poor old -mother will almost break her heart: but it is for Mollie's good, and -all selfish considerations must give way. You are aware, Sir Roger, she -has no dower?" - -"She needs none," Sir Roger said, proudly. "My fortune is princely; her -settlements shall be as ample as though she were heiress to millions. I -believe there is nothing more, Mr. Walraven, and so let us rejoin the -ladies." - -The news spread like wildfire--the avenue was electrified. Mollie -Dane--little, coquettish Mollie Dane--sprung from nobody knew where, to -carry off the great Welsh baronet, in spite of them all. The man must be -in his dotage! - -Mr. Walraven's antecedents were mysterious enough, in all conscience; -but the antecedents of this wild ward of his were ten times more so. -But, in spite of all, the engagement was an accomplished fact. - -Every day, beneath the baleful glare of angry female eyes, Mollie Dane -went riding and driving and walking with the stately, white-haired old -millionaire, who bent over her as obsequiously as though she were a -duchess born. - -The women might go wild with envy, the men go mad with jealousy; but the -days and the weeks went on, and the fairy grew more radiantly beautiful -with each. And the wedding-day came, and the guests were bidden, and all -was ready, on a scale of unparalleled magnificence. And who was to know -the wedding would never be? - -Mollie's bridal night! The big brown-stone mansion was one blaze of -light. The ceremony was to take place in the lofty drawing-room, and be -followed by a ball. This somewhat obsolete way of doing things was by -the express desire of Sir Roger, and on the morrow they were to start -by steamer for the old land. It was all one to Mollie, and Mr. and Mrs. -Walraven acquiesced in every wish of the Welshman. - -The hour fixed for the ceremony was ten o'clock. It was nearly nine, and -up in her own room the bride stood, under the hands of her maid, robed -for the sacrifice. - -It was a sacrifice, though giddy Mollie had never thought it so before. -Now, when it was too late, her heart began to fail her. - -He was dreadfully old, this stately Sir Roger. She didn't care for him -in the least, except as she might care for some nice old grandfather; -and then there was Hugh Ingelow--handsome Hugh! - -But at this point Cricket caught her breath and her thoughts with a -gasp. - -"Mollie, Mollie, Mollie! How dare you, you wicked, crazy girl! Thinking -of Hugh Ingelow, when you oughtn't to remember there's another man alive -but Sir Roger Trajenna! I wouldn't marry poor Hugh when he wanted me--a -lucky escape for him--and I'm not going to pine away for him now, when -it's high treason to do it" - -"Hurry, Margaret," the bride said aloud. "Make me just as pretty as ever -you can." - -The three rejected suitors had been invited to the bridal hall, and, -singular to relate, had come. - -But their discomfiture had been so singular altogether that perhaps they -thought it as well to match Mollie in coolness. - -There they were at least, regarding one another in the oddest way, and -Mrs. Walraven, gorgeous in amber moiré, sidled up to her cousin, and -hissed venomously in his ear: - -"So the vicious Guy Oleander has lost his little game, after all! -Blue-eyed Mollie is destined to be 'My Lady,' in spite of his teeth." - -"'There is many a slip'--you know the proverb, Madame." - -It was all he said; but his sinister smile, as he moved away, said a -great deal. - -Hugh Ingelow, very pale, stood leaning against a marble column, all -wreathed with festal roses, not as white as his own handsome face. - -"What are they plotting, I wonder?" he thought. "No good to her. They -hate her, as I ought to, but as I can't, poor, pitiful fool that I am! -But my time may come, too. I said I would not forget, and will not." - -The bride-maids, a gay group of girls, came fluttering into the "maiden -bower" to see if the bride was ready. - -"For the clergyman is down-stairs, and the guests are assembled, and Sir -Roger is waiting, and nothing is needed but the bride." - -"A very essential need," responded Mollie. "I'm not going to hurry -myself; they can't get along without me. A letter, Lucy? For me? From -whom, I wonder?" - -The girl had entered, bearing a note in a buff envelope, addressed, in a -sprawling hand, to "Miss Mollie Dane." - -"The young person that brought it is waiting in the hall, miss," said -Lucy. "I didn't want to take it, and I told her you was just about -getting married, but it was no use. She said it was a matter of life or -death, and you'd be sure to pay attention to it if you were before the -altar." - -But Mollie had not listened. She tore open the buff envelope, and the -gazers saw her turn deathly pale as she read. - -She crushed the letter in her hand and turned impetuously to the girl. - -"Where is the person who brought this? I must see her at once. Bring her -here; and you, young ladies, let me speak two words to her in private." - -The young ladies trooped out, and the bride was left alone, paler than -her snowy robes. - -A moment, and Lucy was back with the bearer of the letter, a -respectable-looking young person enough. - -Lucy left her mistress and the girl standing together. Five minutes -after the bell rang sharply. Lucy hastened back; on the threshold the -bride met and stopped her, with a white, startled face. - -"Tell them to postpone the ceremony for an hour, Lucy. Come back here -then. For the next hour I wish to be left alone. Tell Mr. Walraven." - -She shut the door in the amazed attendant's face. Lucy heard the key -turn. A second she stood petrified, then she hastened off to deliver her -message. - -Mr. Walraven stood aghast. Lucy was plied with questions. Who was the -girl? What was she like? What had she said? Where had she come from? - -Sir Roger was wildly alarmed at first, but Mr. Walraven reassured him. -The company waited, on the _qui vive_, for they knew not what. Eleven -o'clock came. Lucy went up to the bride's room; the door was still fast; -she knocked--there was no reply; she called--there was no answer. Then -Lucy screamed, and in a twinkling a crowd was around the door. They -shook it, they rapped, they called, all in vain. Dead silence reigned. - -"Force the door!" exclaimed Carl Walraven, hoarsely. - -Strong men forced it. There was a rush in, a recoil, a cry of -consternation, for the apartment was empty; the bird had flown. - -How the search began no one ever knew, but begin it did. The house was -hunted from top to bottom; still in vain. Not a trace of the bride could -be found. - -The wedding party dispersed in wild confusion, but the search went on. -Through the night it lasted; but morning broke, and still no trace. The -bride had disappeared as if the earth had opened and swallowed her up! - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -WHERE THE BRIDE WAS. - - -The letter in the buff envelope which had so startled Mollie was very -brief. There were but eight or nine lines, wretchedly scrawled: - -"MOLLIE DANE,--Come to me at once, if you want to find out who you -are, who your parents were, what Carl Walraven is to you. This is your -wedding-night; but come. I am very ill--dying; I may not see morning. -If you delay, it will be too late. The bearer is my friend; she will -conduct you to me. Tell no one. Carl Walraven will prevent you, if he -can. I say to you, come--come--come. - -"MIRIAM." - -If there was one thing on earth that flighty Mollie was really in -earnest about, it was in knowing her own history. Her marriage sunk -into insignificance in comparison. - -She dispatched Lucy at once for the bearer of the note, sent her friends -to the right-about, and closeted herself with the young woman--a pale -young woman, with dark eyes and an intelligent face. - -"Who are you?" abruptly demanded the bride, looking curiously at her. - -"Sarah Grant," answered the young woman--"a shopgirl." - -"Who sent you with this note?" - -"A woman who lodges in the same house--a tall, gaunt, half-crazed -looking creature. She is dangerously ill." - -The girl answered straightforwardly, gazing round her the while in -open-eyed admiration. - -"Do you know her name?" - -"We call her old Miriam; she refuses to tell her name. I have done -little things for her since she has been ill, and she begged me so hard -to fetch you this letter that I could not refuse." - -"Do you know its contents?" - -"Only that you are expected to return with me. She told me that she had -something to say to you that you would give half your life to hear." - -"Is the house far from this?" - -"Yes, miss, a long way; but I came in a carriage. It is waiting round -the corner. Miriam told me to hurry; that it was a matter of life or -death, and she gave me money to pay for the hack. It was absolutely -necessary you should know, she said, before you married any one." - -Mollie mused a moment. She never thought of doubting all this. Of -course, Miriam knew all about her, and of course it was likely she -would wish to tell her on her death-bed. - -"I will go," she said, suddenly. "Wait one instant." - -She summoned the servant, gave her the message that had caused such -consternation, locked the door, and threw over her glittering bridal -robes a long water-proof cloak that covered her from head to foot. -Drawing the hood over her head, she stood ready. - -"Now," said Miss Dane, rapidly, "we will not go out by the front door, -because I don't want any one to know I have quitted the house. Come this -way." - -She opened one of the long windows and stepped out on the piazza. Sarah -followed. - -Some distance on there was a flight of stairs leading to a paved -back-yard. They descended the stairs, walked down the yard, passed -through a little gate, and stood in the street, under the bright night -sky. - -"Now, Miss Grant," said Mollie, "where is your carriage?" - -"At the corner of the avenue, miss. This way." - -Two minutes brought them to the corner. There stood the hack. - -Sarah made a motion for Miss Dane to precede her. Mollie stepped in; the -girl followed, closing the door securely after her, and the hack started -at a furious pace. - -"How dark it is!" exclaimed Mollie, impatiently. "You should make your -driver light up, Miss Grant." - -"There is sufficient light for our work," a voice answered. - -Mollie recoiled with a slight shriek, for it was not the voice of Sarah -Grant. - -A dark figure started out of the corner on the moment, her hands were -grasped, and a handkerchief swiftly and surely bound round her mouth. It -was no longer in her power to raise an alarm. - -"Now bind her eyes, Sarah," said the voice. "I'll secure her hands. -My pretty bird, it's of no use struggling. You're safely and surely -snared." - -Her eyes were bandaged, her hands bound, and Mollie sat utterly helpless -and bewildered--a prisoner. - -She could neither see, nor move, nor speak. The hack was rattling at a -fearful pace over the stony streets. Its noise would have drowned her -cries had it been in her power to utter any. - -"Now, my dear Miss Dane," said that unknown voice, very close to her -ear, and all at once, in French, "I'll answer all the questions I know -you are dying to ask at this moment, and answer them truthfully. I speak -in French, that the good Sarah beside us may not comprehend. You -understand the language, I know." - -He knew her, then! And yet she utterly failed to recognize that voice. - -"In the first place, what does all this mean? Why this deception--this -abduction? Who am I? Where are you being taken? When are you to be -restored to your friends? This is what you would ask, is it not? Very -well; now to answer you. What does this mean? Why, it means that you -have made an enemy, by your atrocious flirting, of one whom you cruelly -and shamefully jilted, who has vowed vengeance, and who knows how to -keep that vow. Why this deception--this abduction? Well, without -deception it was impossible to get you away, and we know just enough -about you to serve our purpose. Miriam never sent that note; but Miriam -exists. Who am I? Why, I am that enemy--if one can be your enemy who -loves you to madness--a man you cruelly taught to love you, and then -scornfully refused. Where are you being taken? To a safe place, my -charming Mollie--safe as 'that deepest dungeon beneath the castle moat' -which you have read of. When are you to be restored to your friends? -When you have been my wife one week--not an instant sooner." - -Mollie, bound and blindfolded, made one frantic gesture. The man by her -side understood. - -"That means you won't," he said, coolly. "Ah, my fairy Mollie, -imprisonment is a hard thing to bear! I love you very dearly, I admire -your high spirit intensely; but even eaglets have had their wings -clipped before now. You treated me mercilessly--I am going to be -merciless in my turn. You don't care for this old man I have saved you -from marrying. I am young and good-looking--I blush as I say it--a far -more suitable husband for you than he. You are trying to recognize my -voice and place me, I know. Leave off trying, my dearest; you never -will. I am perfectly disguised--voice, face, figure. When we part you -will be no wiser than you are now." - -He ceased speaking. The carriage rattled on and on through the shining, -starlit night for endless hours, it seemed to Mollie. - -Oh, where were they going, and what was to become of her? Was it a -frightful reality, or only a dream? Was she really the same girl who -this night was to have been the bride of a baronet? Was this the -nineteenth century and New York City, or a chapter out of some old -Venetian romance? - -The carriage stopped at last; she heard the door open, she felt herself -lifted out; there was a rush of cold air for an instant, then they -entered a house; a door closed behind them, and she was being borne -upstairs and into a room. - -"Now that we have arrived, Miss Mollie," said that strange voice, "we -will unbind you, and you really must overlook the hard necessity which -compelled so strong a course toward a lady. I give you fair warning that -it will be of no use straining your lungs screaming; for if you shrieked -for a month, no one would hear you through these padded walls. Now, -then!" - -He took the gag from her mouth, and Mollie caught her breath with a -gasp. He untied the bandage round her eyes, and for a second or two she -was dazzled by the sudden blaze of light. The instant she could see, she -turned full upon her abductor. - -Alas and alas! he wore a black mask, a flowing wig, a beard, and a long -cloak reaching to the floor. - -He was a tall man--that was the only thing Mollie could make out of the -disguise. - -"Miss Dane does not spare me; but it is all in vain. She may gaze until -her lovely eyes drop from their sockets, and she will not recognize me. -And now I will leave you. I will intrude upon you as little as is -absolutely possible. If you need anything, ring the bell. Good-night, -my beautiful Mollie, and happy dreams." - -He bowed politely and moved toward the door. Mollie made a step toward -him, with upraised arm: - -"Stay!" - -The man halted at once. - -"How long am I to be imprisoned here?" - -"My fair one, I told you before: until you consent to become my wife." - -"Are you mad?" exclaimed Mollie, scornfully; "or do you think I am? -Your wife! I am here in your power--kill me, if you dare, you cowardly -abductor! I will die ten thousand deaths--I'll live on here until my -head is hoary--I'll dash my brains out against yonder wall, but I'll -never, never, never become your wife!" - -The man shrugged his shoulders. - -"Strong language, my dear; but words, words, words! I won't kill you, -and you won't live here until your head is hoary. Golden locks like -yours are a long time turning gray. And you won't dash your brains out -against the walls, because the walls are padded. Is there anything else -you wish to say, Miss Dane?" - -"Only this," with blazing eyes, "that whoever you are, you are the -vilest, basest, most cowardly wretch on the wide earth! Go! I would -murder you if I was able!" - -"Not a doubt of it, my angel! Once more, good-night!" - -He bowed low, passed out, and locked the door. Mollie was alone in her -prison. - -Now, little Cricket, fairy that she was, was yet brave as any giantess. -Not a drop of craven blood flowed in her spirited veins. Therefore, left -alone, she neither wept, nor raved, nor tore her hair; but took a -prolonged survey of her surroundings. - -It was a large, lofty room, lighted by a single gas-jet, dependent from -the ceiling. The four walls were thickly wadded, and there were no -windows, only one door, no pictures, no mirror--nothing but a few -stuffed chairs, a table, a lavatory, a bed. Day-time and night-time -would be the same here. - -"Well," said Mollie to herself, drawing a long breath, "if this does not -cap the globe! Am I really Mollie Dane, and is this New York City, or am -I playing private theatricals, and gone back to the Dark Ages? Who, in -the wide world, is that mysterious man? And, oh! what will they say at -home this dreadful night?" - -She removed her cumbersome mantle and threw it upon the bed, looking -ruefully about her. - -"I wonder how long I am to be kept here? Of course, I'll never yield; -but it's going to be frightful, if I am to be imprisoned for weeks and -weeks. I won't ring for that deceitful Sarah Grant, and I'll never give -in, if they keep me until the day of judgment." - -She began pacing up and down the room. Death-like stillness reigned. -Hours passed. Weary with the long drive, she threw herself upon the bed -at last, and fell fast asleep. - -A noise near awoke her after a prolonged slumber. She looked up; the gas -still burned, but she was no longer alone. Sarah stood by the table, -arranging a tempting breakfast. - -"What's that?" abruptly demanded Mollie. - -Sarah courtesied respectfully. - -"Your breakfast, miss." - -"It is to-morrow, then?" said Mollie. - -"It is to-day, miss," responded the girl, with a smile. - -"What's the hour?" - -"Past eight, Miss Dane." - -"Are you going to stay here with me?" - -"No, miss." - -"Why did you tell me such lies last night, you shameful girl?" - -"I told you what I was ordered to tell you." - -"By whom?" - -"My master." - -"Who is your master? Old Satan?" - -"I hope not, miss." - -"Who, then? What is his name?" - -"Excuse me. Miss Dane," said the girl, quietly. "I must answer no -questions." - -"You are a hard-hearted creature, and you ought to be ashamed of -yourself!" exclaimed Mollie, indignantly. "Where is your master? Here?" - -"Miss Dane, I repeat it--I can answer no questions, and I must go. Here -is your breakfast. I hope you will enjoy it." - -"Yes," said Mollie, scornfully, "it is very likely I enjoy eating and -drinking in this place! Take it away. I don't want victuals--I mean to -starve myself to death." - -But she looked at the table as she spoke, and was inwardly not at all -displeased to see the golden coffee, the buckwheat cakes, the eggs, and -ham, and toast. - -"I shall bring you your dinner at noon, miss." said Sarah, moving toward -the door, and not heeding her. "If you want me before noon, please to -ring." - -"Stop!" said Mollie. "And, oh, for goodness gracious sake, do tell me -where I am!" - -She held up her hands imploringly--poor, caged little starling! - -"I am sorry, miss," Sarah said, and her face showed it; "but -indeed--indeed I can't! I daren't! I've promised, and my master trusts -me. I can't break my word." - -She was gone as she spoke, locking the door again, and Mollie got up -with a heavy sigh. She had taken off only her outer garments before -lying down; and after washing, and combing out her bright silken hair, -she resumed the glittering, bride-like finery of the evening before. -Poor Mollie looked at the silver-shining silk, the cobweb lace, the -gleaming, milky pearls, with a very rueful face. - -"And I was to have been away on my bridal tour by this time," she -thought; "and poor Sir Roger is half mad before this, I know. Oh, dear! -it's very nice to read about young ladies being carried off in this way, -but the reading is much nicer than the reality. I shall die if they keep -me here four-and-twenty hours longer." - -By way of preparing for death, Miss Dane promptly sat down to the table -and eat her breakfast with the hearty appetite of youth and good health. - -"It's better than being fed on bread and water, anyhow," she reflected, -as she finished; "but I should greatly prefer the bread and water, if -sweetened with freedom. What on earth shall I do with myself? If they -had only left me a book!" - -But they hadn't, and the long, dull hours wore on--how long and how dull -only prisoners know. But noon came at last, and with it came Sarah, -carrying a second tray. Mollie was on the watch for the door to open. -She had some vague idea of making a rush for it, but there stood a -stalwart man on guard. - -"Here is your dinner, Miss Dane. I hope you liked your breakfast." - -But the sight of the sentinel without had made Mollie sulky, and she -turned her back upon the girl with silent contempt. - -Sarah departed, and Mollie suffered her dinner to stand and grow cold. -She was too cross to eat, but by and by she awoke to the fact that she -was hungry. - -"And then it will help to pass the time," thought the unhappy prisoner, -sitting down. "If I could eat all the time, I shouldn't so much mind." - -After dinner she coiled herself up in one of the arm-chairs and fell -asleep. She slept long, and awoke refreshed, but what time it was she -could not judge; eternal gas-light and silence reigned in her prison. - -"Oh, dear, dear! what will become of me if this sort of thing goes on?" -cried Mollie, aloud, starting up and wringing her hands. "I shall go -stark, staring mad! Oh, what crime did my father and mother ever commit, -that their sin should be visited upon me like this? I will stab myself -with the carving-knife to-morrow, after dinner, if this keeps on!" - -Mollie paced up and down like a bedlamite, sobbing and scolding to -herself, and quite broken down with one day's imprisonment. - -"I thought I could stand it--I thought I could defy him; I had no idea -being imprisoned was so awful. I wish I could die and make an end of it! -I'd starve myself to death, only I get so dreadful hungry, and I daren't -cut my throat, because the sight of blood makes me sick, and I know it -must hurt. Oh, Mollie Dane, you miserable little wretch! I wish you had -never been born!" - -Another dreary interval, and then for the third time came Sarah bearing -a tray. - -"Your supper, miss." said Sarah, going through the formula. "I hope you -liked your dinner." - -"Oh, take it away!" cried Millie, twisting her fingers. "I don't want -any supper--I'm going crazy, I think! Oh, what a hard, flinty, unfeeling -heart you must have, you wicked young woman!" - -Sarah looked at her compassionately. - -"It is hard, I know. But why didn't you do as master wished you, and get -away?" - -"Marry him! How dare you? I wish I could poison him! I'd do that with -the greatest pleasure." - -"Then you must stay here, miss, for weeks and weeks, months and months, -and every day be like this. Your friends will never find you--never!" - -"Sarah, look here! I shall be dead in a week, and I'll haunt you--I vow -I will! I'll haunt you until I make your life a misery to you!" - -Sarah smiled quietly. - -"I am not afraid, miss. You're a great deal too young and too healthy to -die; and you won't kill yourself, for life is too sweet, even in prison. -The best thing you can do is to marry master, and be restored to your -friends." - -"Sarah Grant--if that be your name," said Mollie, with awful -calmness--"go away! if you only come here to insult me like that, -don't come here at all." - -Sarah courtesied respectfully, and immediately left. But her words had -made their mark. In spite of Mollie's appealing dignity, any avenue of -escape--even that--was beginning to took inviting. - -"Suppose I went through the form of a ceremony with this man?" mused -Mollie. "It wouldn't mean anything, you know, because I did it upon -compulsion; and, immediately I got out, I should go straight and marry -Sir Roger. But I won't do it--of course, I won't! I'll be imprisoned -forever before I yield!" - -But you know it has got to be a proverb, "When a woman hesitates, she is -lost." Mollie had begun to hesitate, and Mollie was lost. - -All that long night she never slept a wink. She lay awake, tossing and -tumbling on the bed, or pacing up and down the floor, in a sort of -delirious fever. And-- - -"If I thought for certain sure he would let me go after the sham -ceremony was performed, I would marry him," was the conclusion she had -arrived at by morning. "No matter what happens, nothing can be half so -bad as this." - -It was morning, though Mollie did not know it, when she threw herself on -the bed, and for the second time fell asleep. And sleeping, she dreamed. -She was standing up before the minister, to be married to the masked -man. The ceremony went on--Miriam was bride-maid and Sir Roger Trajenna -gave her away. The ceremony ended, the bridegroom turned to salute the -bride. "But first I must remove my mask," he said, in a strangely -familiar voice; and lifting it off, Mollie saw smiling down upon her the -most beautiful face ever mortal were, familiar as the voice, yet leaving -her equally unable to place it. - -It may seem a little thing, but little things weigh with young ladies in -their seventeenth year, and this dream turned the scale. Mollie thought -about it a great deal that morning as she made her toilet. - -"I wonder if he is so very handsome? I like handsome men," mused Mollie. -"He told me he was, and I know he must be, if he ever was a flirter of -mine. Mr. Sardonyx is the plainest man I ever let make love to me, and -even he was not absolutely plain. I shouldn't wonder if my captor were -he, or else Doctor Oleander. Oh, why--why--why can't I recognize that -voice?" - -That day wore on, long, drearily, endlessly, it seemed to poor Mollie. -Its dull course was broken, as usual, by Sarah fetching the daily meals; -and it ended, and night came, and still Mollie had not spoken. - -Another day dawned, and its dawning brought the climax. She had passed a -sleepless night, and awoke feverish, unrefreshed, and utterly desperate. - -"If it was death instead of marriage I had to undergo," said Mollie to -herself, "I should prefer it to this slow torture. It's horrid to yield, -but it's a great deal more horrid to hold out. I'll yield." - -Accordingly, when Sarah came up with the morning meal, Miss Dane -promptly addressed her: - -"Sarah, is your master in the house?" - -"Not at present, miss." - -"Do you expect him?" - -"Oh, yes, miss! He comes every day." - -"Is he coming up here no more until I send for him?" - -"I think not, miss. He is a great deal too polite to force himself upon -a lady." - -A glance of withering scorn from Mollie. - -"He is a cowardly, contemptible tyrant, and you are a vile, lost -creature and fool! But that is not what I wanted to say. As soon as -he comes, tell him I wish to see him." - -"Very well, miss." - -Sarah departed. The long hours dragged on--oh, so long!--oh, so long! -Mollie could take no breakfast that morning. She could only walk up and -down her prison-chamber in a frenzy of impatience for the coming of the -man she hated. - -He came at last--cloaked and masked, and wearing the false hair and -beard--utterly unrecognizable. - -"At last, Miss Dane," he calmly said, "you have sent for me. You are -tired of your prison? You long for freedom? You accede to my terms?" - -"Yes," said Mollie, with a sort of sobbing cry, for she felt utterly -broken down. "Anything, anything under heaven for freedom! Another week -like this, and I should go mad! But, oh! if you are a man--if you have -any pity in your heart--don't ask this sacrifice! Let me go as I am! -See, I plead to you!--I, who never pleaded to mortal before! Let me go, -for pity's sake, now, as I came! Don't, don't, don't ask me to marry -you!" - -She held up her clasped hands--bright tears standing in her passionate -eyes. But the tall, masked man loomed up like a dark, stern ghost. - -"You were merciless to me, Mollie Dane." - -"But I am only a girl--only a silly, flirting girl of sixteen! Oh, -forget and forgive, and let me go!" - -"I can not, Mollie, for--I love you!" - -"Love me?" Mollie repeated, scorn and anguish in her voice. "Love me, -and torture me like this!" - -"It is because I love you. I torture you because you shall be my wife. -Mine, Mollie, mine! Because you would never consent of your own free -will. It goes to my heart to hear you plead; but I love you with my -whole heart and soul, and I can not yield." - -"I shall plead no more," said Mollie, proudly, turning away; "your heart -is of stone." - -"Will you consent to marry me, Mollie? Remember the terms. One week from -the hour that makes you my wife will see you going forth free, if you -wish it." - -"Free! wish it!" she repeated, with unutterable scorn. "Free, and bound -to you! Wish it, when for that privilege I sacrifice myself forever! Oh, -you know well I love my liberty dearly, when I can not lie here and rot -sooner than leave my prison your wife! But, man--demon--whatever you -are," she cried, with a sort of frenzy, "I do consent--I will become -your wife, since my only chance of quitting this horrible dungeon lies -that way!" - -If Mollie could have seen the face behind the mask, she would have seen -the red glow of triumph that overspread it at the words; but aloud he -spoke calmly. - -"My happiness is complete," he said. "But remember, Mollie, it will be -no sham marriage, that you will be at liberty to break. A real clergyman -shall unite us, and you must promise me to make no appeal to his -sympathy--to make no attempt to converse with him. The attempt would -be quite useless, but you must promise." - -"I promise," she said, haughtily; "and Mollie Dane keeps her word." - -"And I keep mine! A week from the ceremony you go forth free, never to -be disturbed by me again. I love you, and I marry you for love and for -revenge. It sounds inconsistent, but it is true. Yet, my promise of -vengeance fulfilled, I shall retain you against your will no longer. I -will love you always, and you will be my wife--my wife, Mollie. Nothing -can ever alter that. I can always say hereafter, come what will, I have -been blessed!" - -There was a tremor in the steady voice. He paused an instant, and then -went on: - -"To-night the clergyman will be here. You will be ready? You will not -retract your word?" - -"I never retract my word," Mollie said, abruptly turning her back upon -him. "I will not now. Go!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE. - - -The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh sat before a blazing sea-coal fire, in -his cozy study, in comfortable, after-dinner mood. He lay back in his -cushioned and carved arm-chair, a florid, portly, urbane prelate, with -iron-gray hair and patriarchal whiskers, a steaming glass of wine punch -at his elbow, that day's paper open upon his lap, an overfed pussy -purring at his knee, the genius of comfort personified in his own portly -person. - -The world went well with the Reverend Raymond. Silks rustled and -diamonds flashed every Sunday in the cushioned pews of his "uptown" -church; the _élite_ of Gotham sat under his teaching, and his sixty -years and the cares of life rested lightly on his broad shoulders. - -It had been a very smoothly flowing life--those sixty years--gliding -along as sluggishly calm as the waters of a canal. But on this night the -still surface was destined to be ruffled--on this night, so strange, so -extraordinary an adventure was destined to happen to him, that it -actually compensated, in five brief hours, for all the lack of -excitement in those sixty years. - -A wet and stormy night. The rain beat ceaselessly against the curtained -windows; the wild spring wind shrieked through the city streets, icily -cold; a bad, black night--starless, moonless. - -The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh gave a little comfortable shiver as he -listened to it. It was very pleasant to listen to it in that cozy little -room. He poked the blazing coals, sipped his red port, stroked pussy, -who bore a most absurd feline resemblance to himself, and took up his -paper again. - -For the second time he read over a brief paragraph among the -"Personals:" - -"LEFT HER HOME.--On the fifteenth instant--whether forcibly or of her own -free will is unknown--a young lady of sixteen years, by name Mollie Dane. -Is undersized, very slight of figure, a profusion of light, curling hair, -large blue eyes, handsome features, and remarkably self-possessed and -straightforward of manner. Was dressed as a bride, in white silk and -lace. Any information concerning her will be thankfully received and -liberally rewarded by her afflicted friends. Apply personally or by -letter to MR. CARL WALRAVEN, No ---- Fifth Avenue, New York." - -Very slowly the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh read this paragraph to its end. -He laid down the paper and looked thoughtfully at the cat. - -"Extraordinary!" murmured the Reverend Raymond, half aloud--"most -extraordinary! Like a scene in a novel; like nothing in real life. Has -the earth opened and swallowed her up? Has she gone off with some -younger and handsomer lover? Or has she been decoyed from home by the -machinations of some enemy? She had many, poor child! That unfortunate -Sir Roger is like a man insane. He is offering half his fortune for her -recovery. It is really very, very extraordinary. Quite a romance in real -life. Come in!" - -There had been a tap at the study door; a maid-servant entered. - -"There's a young woman down-stairs, sir, wishes to see you most -particular." - -"Ah, indeed! Who is she? What is her business with me?" - -"I don't know, sir. Something very important, she says." - -"Show her up." - -The girl departed, ran down-stairs, ran up again, followed by a -respectable-looking young woman of pleasing aspect. - -"Well, my child,"--he was very fatherly and bland, was the Reverend -Raymond Rashleigh--"and what may you want with me?" - -"My Mistress sent me, sir. I am Mrs. Holywell's maid." - -"Indeed!" said Mr. Rashleigh, vividly interested at once; "and how is -Mrs. Holywell?" - -"Very poorly, sir. She thinks she's dying herself. She wants to make her -will to-night; that's why she sent for you." - -Mr. Rashleigh rose with very unwonted alacrity. - -She was a distant relative of his, this dying Mrs. Holywell; -ridiculously rich for a childless widow, and with no nearer heir than -the reverend pastor of St. Pancras' Church. - -"I will accompany you at once, my dear! Poor Mrs. Holywell! But it is -the fate of all flesh! How did you come, pray? It rains, does it not?" - -A fierce gust of wind rattled the double windows, and frantically beat -the rain against them by way of answer. - -"I came in a carriage, sir. It is at the door now." - -"That is well. I will not detain you an instant. Ah! poor Mrs. -Holywell!" - -The parson's hat and overcoat hung in the room. In a moment they were -on; in another he was following the very respectable young woman -down-stairs; in a third he was scrambling after her into the carriage; -in a fourth they were rattling wildly over the wet, stony streets; in a -fifth the reverend gentleman was grasped in a vise-like grip, and a -voice close to his ear--a man's voice--hissed: - -"Speak one word, make the least outcry, and you are a dead man!" - -The interior of the carriage was in utter darkness. - -The Reverend Mr. Rashleigh gave one panting gasp, and fell back in his -seat. High living and long indolence had made him a complete craven. -Life was inestimably precious to the portly pastor of St. Pancras'. -After that one choking gasp, he sat quivering all over, like -calves'-foot jelly. - -"Bandage his eyes, Sarah, while I tie his hands," said the man's voice. -"My dear sir, don't shake so; it is almost impossible to do anything -with you in this hysterical state. Now, bind his mouth, Sarah. There! -I think that will do." - -Bound hands, and eyes, and mouth, half suffocated, wholly blinded, the -Reverend Raymond Rashleigh was a pitiable object at that instant. But -there was no one to pity him, no one to see him, no one to help him. - -The carriage whirled on, and on, and on at dizzy speed, the wind sighing -by in long, lamentable gales, the rain dashing clamorously against the -closed glass. - -Paralyzed with intense terror, Mr. Rashleigh sat trembling to that -extent that he threatened to topple off his seat. - -"Pray calm yourself, my reverend friend," said that masculine voice -beside him. "No personal harm is intended you, and I have no designs -upon your watch and purse. I merely want the loan of you in your -clerical capacity, to perform the ceremony of marriage over a runaway -couple. I knew you wouldn't come of your own free will; therefore, I -took the trouble to ascertain about those little expectations of yours -from Mrs. Holywell, and used that good lady, whose health, I trust, is -no worse than usual, as a cat's-paw. You must pardon the deception, dear -sir, and you must perform the marriage ceremony without inconvenient -scruples, or hesitation, or questions. Be thankful, for the sake of -morality, we see the propriety of getting married at all. You are -listening to me and paying attention to me, I hope?" - -Paying attention! Yes, his whole soul was absorbed in listening. - -"Where I take you, who I am, you will never find out. Don't try, my dear -Mr. Rashleigh, even if you have the opportunity. Marry me--for I am to -be the happy bridegroom--and don't utter another word, save and except -the words of the ceremony, from the time you enter my house until you -leave it. If you do your part like the prudent, elderly gentleman I take -you to be, you will find yourself back in your pleasant study, safe and -sound, before morning dawns. If not--" - -There was an awful sound, the sharp click of a pistol. No words in -any known language--and the parson knew all the languages, dead and -alive--could have filled up the hiatus so eloquently or so convincingly. - -The cold perspiration started from every pore, and each tooth in his -clerical jaws clattered like pairs of castanets. - -They drove, and they drove, and they drove through the wild, wet night, -as if they meant to drive forever. - -But they stopped, after a horribly long interval, and the parson was -helped out into the rain, out of the rain into a house, led up a flight -of stairs, and seated in a chair. - -"Now, my dear sir, permit me to remove these uncomfortable incumbrances, -and do, do try to overlook the painful necessity which compelled me to -use them. It goes to my heart, I assure you. There!" - -The last bandage dropped to the ground--eyes, hands, mouth were free. -But Mr. Rashleigh could make no use of his freedom; he sat pale, -benumbed, confounded, helpless. - -"Rouse yourself, my dear sir," said his persecutor, giving him a gentle -shake; "don't drop into a cataleptic trance. Look up and speak to me." - -The reverend gentleman did look up, and uttered a sort of scream at -sight of the ugly black mask frowning ghastily down upon him. - -"Don't be alarmed," said the masked man, soothingly; "no harm is meant -you. My mask won't hurt you. I merely don't want you to recognize me -to-morrow, should we chance to meet. My bride will be masked, too, and -you will marry us by our Christian names alone. Hers is Mary; mine is -Ernest. Do you understand?" - -"Yes, yes!" responded Mr. Rashleigh, quaking with unutterable terror. -Oh! was this a dreadful nightmare, induced by a too luxurious dinner, -or was it a horrible reality? - -"And you are ready to perform the ceremony? to ask no questions? to -marry us, and be gone?" - -"Yes, yes, yes! Oh, good heavens!" groaned the Reverend Raymond: "am I -asleep or awake?" - -"Very well, then," said this dreadful man in the mask; "I will go for -the bride. She is Mary, remember; I am Ernest I will return in a -moment." - -He quitted the room. Mr. Rashleigh stared helplessly about him, in a -pitiable state of terror and bewilderment. The room was large, well, -even elegantly, furnished, with nothing at all remarkable about, its -elegance; such another as Mr. Rashleigh's own drawing-room at home. It -was lighted by a cluster of gas-jets, and the piano, the arm-chairs, the -sofas, the tables, the pictures, were all very handsome and very common, -indeed. - -Ten minutes elapsed. The commonplace, everyday look of the mysterious -room did more toward reassuring the trembling prelate than all the -masked man's words. - -The door opened, and the masked man stalked in again, this time with a -lady hanging on his arm. - -The lady was small and slender, robed in flowing white silk; a rich -veil of rare lace falling over her from head to foot like a cloud; a -wreath of orange-blossoms on her fair head; jewels sparkling about -her--everything just as it should be, save that, the face was hidden. A -mask of white silk, giving her a corpse-like and ghastly look, covered -it from forehead to chin. - -The very respectable young woman who had inveigled him out of his study, -and a slouchy-looking young man followed, and took their places behind -the masked pair. - -"Begin," authoritatively commanded the bridegroom. - -The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh stood up. It was a wild and lawless -proceeding, and all wrong; but life is sweet to portly prelates of -sixty, and he stood up and began at once. - -Mr. Rashleigh needed no book--he knew the marriage service as pat as his -prayers. The ring was at hand; the questions were asked; the responses -made. - -In five minutes the two masks were man and wife. - -"Make out a certificate of marriage," said the bridegroom; "these two -people will be witnesses. Their names are Sarah Grant and John Jones." - -Pens, ink and paper were placed before him. Mr. Rashleigh essayed to -write, as well as his trembling fingers would allow him, and handed a -smeared and blotted document to the bridegroom. - -"You will enter this marriage on your register, Mr. Rashleigh," said the -man. "I am very much obliged to you. Pray accept this for your trouble." - -_This_ was a glistening rouleau of gold. Mr. Rashleigh liked gold, and -in spite of his trepidation, managed to put it in his pocket. - -"Now, my dear," the happy man said, turning to the little white bride, -"you and Sarah had better retire. Our reverend friend will wish to -return home. I must see him there." - -The bride and her attendant left the room without a word. The bridegroom -produced the bandages again. - -"I regret the necessity, but I must bind you again. However, it will not -be for long; in a couple of hours you will be at home." - -With wonderful skill and rapidity, hands, eyes, and mouth were bound -once more; the parson was led down-stairs, out into the wet night, and -back to his seat in the carriage. The masked man took his place beside -him. John Jones mounted to the driver's perch, and they were off like -the wind. - -The promised two hours were very long to the rector, but they ended at -last. The carriage stopped abruptly; he was helped out, and the bandage -taken from his eyes and hands. - -"The other must remain for a moment or two," said the mysterious man -with the mask, speaking rapidly. "You are at the corner of your own -street. Good-bye, and many thanks!" - -He sprung into the carriage, and it was gone like a flash. And the -Reverend Raymond Rashleigh, in the gray and dismal dawn of a wet -morning, was left all agape in the deserted street. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -ONE WEEK AFTER. - - -On that eventful night of wind and rain upon which the Reverend Raymond -Rashleigh performed that mysterious midnight marriage, Mr. Carl Walraven -paced alone his stately library, lost in thought--painful thought; for -his dark brows were contracted, and the Grecian heads in the brackets -around him had no severer lines than those about his mouth. - -While he paces up and down, up and down, like some restless ghost, the -library door opens, and his wife, magnificently arrayed, with jewels in -her raven hair, a sparkling fan dangling from her wrist, an odor of rich -perfume following her, appears before him like a picture in a frame. - -She is superbly handsome in that rose-colored opera-cloak, and she knows -it, and is smiling graciously; but the swarth frown on her husband's -face only grows blacker as he looks at her. - -"You are going, then?" said Mr. Carl Walraven. - -"Going?" Mrs. Walraven arches her black eyebrows in pretty surprise at -the word. "Of course, my dear. I would not miss 'Robert le Diable' and -the charming new tenor for worlds." - -"Nor would you obey your husband for worlds, madame. I expressly desired -you to stay at home." - -"I know it, my love. Should be happy to oblige you, but in this case it -is simply impossible." - -"Have you no regard for the opinion of the world?" - -"Every regard, my dear." - -"What do you suppose society will say to see you at the opera, dressed -like a queen, while we are all mourning poor Mollie's loss?" - -"Society will say, if society has common sense, that Mrs. Walraven -scorns to play hypocrite. I don't care for Mollie Dane--I never did -care for her--and I don't mourn her loss in the least. I don't care -that"--the lady snapped her jeweled fingers somewhat vulgarly--"if I -never see her again. It is as well to tell you the truth, my dear. One -should have no secrets from one's husband, they say." - -She laughed lightly, and drew her opera-cloak up over her superb bare -shoulders. Mr. Walraven's darkest scowl did not intimidate her in the -least. - -"Leave the room, madame!" ordered her husband, authoritatively; "and -take you care that I don't assert my right and compel you to obey me, -before long." - -"Compel!" It was such a good joke that Mrs. Blanche's silvery laugh rang -through the apartment. "You compelled me once, against my will, when you -took your ward with you on your wedding-tour. I don't think it will ever -happen again, Mr. Walraven. And now, how do you like my dress? I came in -expressly to ask you, for the carriage waits." - -"Leave the room!" cried Carl Walraven, in a voice of thunder. "Be gone!" - -"You are violent," said Blanche, with a provoking shrug and smile, but -prudently retreating. "You forget your voice may be heard beyond this -room. Since you lost your ward you appear also to have lost your -temper--never of the best, I must say. Well, my love, by-bye for the -present. Don't quite wear out the carpet before I return." - -With the last sneer and a sweeping bow, the lady quitted the library. As -she closed the door, the house-bell rang violently. - -"The devoted baronet, no doubt," she said to herself, with an unpleasant -smile; "come to condole with his brother in affliction. Poor old noodle! -Truly, a fool of forty will never be wise! A fool of seventy, in his -case." - -One of the tall footmen opened the door. But it was not the stately -baronet. The footman recoiled with a little yelp of terror--he had -admitted this visitor before. A gaunt and haggard woman, clad in rags, -soaking with rain--a wretched object as ever the sun shone on. - -"Is Carl Walraven within?" demanded this grisly apparition, striding in -and confronting the tottering footman with blazing black eyes. "Tell him -Miriam is here." - -The footman recoiled further with another feeble yelp, and Blanche -Walraven haughtily and angrily faced the intruder. - -"Who are you?" - -The blazing eyes burning in hollow sockets turned upon the glittering, -perfumed vision. - -"Who am I? What would you give to know? Who are you? Carl Walraven's -wife, I suppose. His wife! Ha! ha!" she laughed--a weird, blood-curdling -laugh. "I wish you joy of your husband, most magnificent madame! Tell -me, fellow," turning with sudden fierceness upon the dismayed -understrapper, "is your master at home?" - -"Y-e-e-s! That is, I think so, ma'am." - -"Go and tell him to come here, then. Go, or I'll--" - -The dreadful object made one stride toward the lofty servitor, who -turned and fled toward the library. - -But Mr. Walraven had heard loud and angry voices, and at this moment the -door opened and he appeared on the threshold. - -"What is this?" he demanded, angrily. "What the deuce do you mean, -Wilson, wrangling in the hall? Not gone yet, Blanche? Good Heaven! -Miriam!" - -"Yes, Miriam!" She strode fiercely forward. "Yes, Miriam! Come to demand -revenge! Where is Mollie Dane? You promised to protect her, and see how -you keep your word!" - -"In the demon's name, hush!" cried Carl Walraven, savagely. "What you -have to say to me, say to me--not to the whole house. Come in here, you -hag of Satan, and blow out as much as you please! Good Lord! Wasn't I in -trouble enough before, without you coming to drive me mad?" - -He caught her by one fleshless arm in a sort of frenzy of desperation, -and swung her into the library. Then he turned to his audience of two -with flashing eyes: - -"Wilson, be gone! or I'll break every bone in your body! Mrs. Walraven, -be good enough to take yourself off at once. I don't want eavesdroppers." - -And having thus paid his elegant lady-wife back in her own coin, Mr. -Walraven stalked into the library like a sulky lion, banged the door and -locked it. - -Mrs. Carl stood a moment in petrified silence in the hall, then sailed -in majestic displeasure out of the house, into the waiting carriage, and -was whirled away to the Academy. - -"Turn and turn about. Mr. Carl Walraven," she said, between set, white -teeth. "My turn next! I'll ferret out your guilty secrets before long, -as sure as my name is Blanche!" - -Mr. Walraven faced Miriam in the library with folded arms and fiery -eyes, goaded to recklessness, a panther at bay. - -"Well, you she-devil, what do you want?" - -"Mary Dane." - -"Find her, then!" said Carl Walraven, fiercely. "I know nothing about -her." - -The woman looked at him long and keenly. The change in him evidently -puzzled her. - -"You sing a new song lately," she said with deliberation. "Do you want -me to think you are out of my power?" - -"Think what you please, and be hanged to you!" howled Mr. Walraven. -"I am driven to the verge of madness among you! Mollie Dane and her -disappearance, my wife and her cursed taunts, you and your infernal -threats! Do your worst, the whole of you! I defy the whole lot!" - -"Softly, softly," said Miriam, cooling down as he heated up. "I want an -explanation. You have lost Mollie! How was she lost?" - -"Yes--how? You've asked the question, and I wish you would answer it. -I've been driving myself wild over it for the past few days, but I don't -seem to get to the solution. Can't your Familiar," pointing downward, -"help you guess the enigma, Miriam?" - -Miriam frowned darkly. - -"Do you really intend to say you have not made away with the girl -yourself?" - -"Now what does the woman mean by that? What the deuce should I make away -with her for? I liked Mollie--upon my soul I did, Miriam! I liked her -better than any one in this house--the little, saucy, mischievous witch! -She was on the eve of marrying a baronet, and going to her castle in -Spain--I mean in Wales--when, lo! she vanishes like a ghost in a child's -tale. I've scoured the city after her--I've paid detectives fabulous -amounts. I've been worried, and harassed, and goaded, and mystified -until I'm half mad, and here you come with your infernal nonsense about -'making away' with her. That means murdering her, I suppose. I always -took you to be more or less mad, Miriam Dane, but I never before took -you to be a fool." - -The woman looked at him keenly--he was evidently telling the truth. Yet -still she doubted. - -"Who but you, Carl Walraven, had any interest in her, one way or the -other? What enemies could a girl of sixteen have?" - -"Ah! what, indeed? If a girl of sixteen will flirt with every eligible -man she meets until she renders him idiotic, she must expect to pay the -penalty. But I don't pretend to understand this affair; it is wrapped in -blacker mystery than the Man in the Iron Mask. All I've got to say is--I -had no hand in it; so no more of your black looks, Mistress Miriam." - -"And all I've got to say, Mr. Walraven," said Miriam, steadfastly -fixing her eyes upon him, "is that if Mollie Dane is not found before -the month is out, I will publish your story to the world. What will -Madame Walraven, what will Mrs. Carl, what will the chief metropolitan -circles say then?" - -"You hag of Hades! Ain't you afraid I will strangle you where you stand?" - -"Not the least," folding her shawl deliberately around her, and moving -toward the door: "not in the slightest degree. Good-night, Carl -Walraven--I have said it, and I always keep my word." - -"Keep it, and--" - -But Miriam did not hear that last forcible adjuration. She was out of -the library, and out of the house, ere it was well uttered--lost in the -wet, black night. - -Left alone, Carl Walraven resumed his march up and down the apartment, -with a gloomier face and more frowning brows than ever. - -It was bad enough before, without this tiger-cat of a Miriam coming to -make things ten times worse. It was all bravado, his defiance of her, -and he knew it. He was completely in her power, to ruin for life if she -chose to speak. - -"And she will choose!" growled Carl Walraven, in a rage, "the accursed -old hag! if Mollie Dane doesn't turn up before the month ends. By the -Lord Harry! I'll twist that wizen gullet of hers the next time she shows -her ugly black face here! Confound Mollie Dane and all belonging to her! -I've never known a day's rest since I met them first." - -There was a tap at the door. The tall footman threw it open and ushered -in Sir Roger Trajenna. The stately old baronet looked ten years older in -these few days. Anxiety told upon him more hardly than his seventy yews. - -"Good-evening, Sir Roger!" cried Mr. Walraven, advancing eagerly. "Any -news of Mollie?" - -He expected to hear "No," but the baronet said "Yes." He was deeply -agitated, and held forth, in a hand that shook, a note to Carl Walraven. - -"I received that an hour ago, through the post-office. For Heaven's -sake, read, and tell me what you think of it!" - -He dropped exhausted into a chair. Carl Walraven tore open the brief -epistle, and devoured its contents: - -"SIR ROGER TRAJENNA,--Give up your search for Mollie Dane. It is useless; -a waste of time and money. She is safe and well, and will be at home in a -week, but she will never be your wife. - -"ONE WHO KNOWS." - -Mr. Walraven read and reread these brief lines, and stood and stared at -Sir Roger Trajenna. - -"Good heavens! You got this through the post-office?" - -"I did, an hour ago, and came here at once. Do you believe it?" - -"How can I tell? Let us hope it may be true. It is of a piece with the -rest of the mystery. The writing, as usual in these anonymous letters, -is disguised. Can Mollie herself be the writer?" - -"Mollie!" The baronet grew fearfully pale at the bare suggestion. "Why -on earth should my affianced wife write like that? Don't you see it say -a there, 'She will never be your wife?' Mollie, my bride, would never -say that." - -Mr. Walraven was not so sure, but he did not say so. He had very little -faith in Miss Dane's stability, even in a matter of this kind. - -"It is the work of some enemy," said Sir Roger, "and, as such, to be -disregarded. Like all anonymous letters, it is only worthy of contempt." - -People always say that of anonymous communications; but the anonymous -communications invariably have their effect, notwithstanding. - -"I will continue my search," pursued Sir Roger, firmly. "I will offer -yet higher rewards. I will employ still more detectives. I will place -this letter in their hands. No stone shall be left unturned--no money -shall be spared. If I lose Mollie, life is not worth the having." - -He rose to go. Mr. Walraven folded up the mysterious epistle and handed -it back. - -"I see it is postmarked in the city. If the writer really knows aught of -Mollie, she must be nearer at hand than we imagine. Would to Heaven the -week were up." - -"Then you have faith in this?" said the baronet, looking astonished. - -"I have hope, my dear sir. It is very easy believing in what we wish to -come true. There may be something in it. Who knows?" - -The baronet shook his head. - -"I wish I could think so. I sometimes fear we will never see her again. -Poor child! Poor little Mollie! Heaven only knows what you may not have -suffered ere this!" - -"Let us not despair. Pray, resume your seat. I am quite alone this -stormy night, Sir Roger. Mrs. Walraven has gone to the opera." - -But the baronet moved resolutely to the door. - -"Thanks, Mr. Walraven; but I am fit company for no one. I have been -utterly miserable since that fatal night. I can find rest nowhere. I -will not inflict my wearisome society upon you, my friend. Good-night!" - -The week passed. As Sir Roger said, the inquiries and rewards were -doubled--trebled; but all in vain. No trace--not the faintest shadow of -trace--of the lost one could be found. The mystery deepened and darkened -every day. - -The week expired. On its last night there met at the Walraven mansion a -few friends, to debate what steps had better next be taken. - -"In the council of many there is wisdom," thought Mr. Carl Walraven; so -that there were present, besides Sir Roger Trajenna, Dr. Oleander, Mr. -Sardonyx, Hugh Ingelow, and one or two more wiseacres, all anxious about -the missing bride. - -The bevy of gentlemen were assembled in the drawing-room, conversing -with solemn, serious faces, and many dubious shakes of the head. - -Sir Roger sat the picture of pale despair. Mr. Walraven looked harassed -half to death. The other gentlemen, were preternaturally grave. - -"It is of no use." Sir Roger was saying. "Those who abducted her have -laid their plans too well. She will never be found." - -"Are you sure she was abducted?" asked Dr. Oleander, doubtfully. "Is it -not just possible, my dear Sir Roger, she may have gone off of herself?" - -Everybody stared at this audacious suggestion. - -"There is no such possibility, Doctor Oleander," said Sir Roger, -haughtily. "The bare insinuation is an insult. Miss Dane was my plighted -wife of her own free will." - -"Your pardon, Sir Roger. Yet, please remember, Miss Dane was a highly -eccentric young lady, and the rules that hold good in other cases fail -here. She was accustomed to do most extraordinary things, for the mere -sake of being odd and uncommon, as I take it. Her guardian will bear me -out; therefore I still cling to the possibility." - -"Besides, young ladies possessing sound lungs will hardly permit -themselves to be carried off without raising an outcry," said Mr. -Sardonyx; "and in this case there was none. The faintest cry would have -been heard." - -"Neither were there any traces of a struggle," put in Mr. Ingelow, "and -the chamber window was found unfastened, as if the bride had loosed it -herself and stepped out." - -Sir Roger looked angrily around, with a glance that seemed to ask if -they were all in a conspiracy against him; but, before he could speak, -the door-bell rang loudly. - -Mr. Walraven remembered the anonymous note, and started violently. An -instant later, they heard a servant open the door, and then a wild, -ringing shriek echoed through the house. - -There was one simultaneous rush out of the drawing-room, and -down-stairs. There, in the hall, stood Wilson, the footman, staring and -gasping as if he had seen a ghost; and there, in the door-way, a -silvery, shining vision, in the snowy bridal robes she had worn last, -stood Mollie Dane! - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE PARSON'S LITTLE STORY. - - -There was a dead pause; blank amazement sat on every face; no one -stirred for an instant. Then, with a great cry of joy, the Welsh baronet -sprung forward and caught his lost bride in his arms. - -"My Mollie--my Mollie! My darling!" - -But his darling, instead of returning his rapturous embrace, disengaged -herself with a sudden jerk. - -"Pray, Sir Roger, don't make a scene! Guardy, how d'ye do? Is it after -dinner? I'm dreadfully tired and hungry!" - -"Mollie! Good heavens, Mollie! is this really you?" gasped Mr. Walraven, -staring aghast. - -"Now--now!" cried Miss Dane, testily; "what's the good of your asking -ridiculous questions, Guardy Walraven? Where's your eyesight? Don't you -see it's me? Will you kindly let me pass, gentlemen? or am I to stand -here all night on exhibition?" - -Evidently the stray lamb had returned to the fold in shocking bad -temper. The gentlemen barring her passage instantly made way, and Mollie -turned to ascend the staircase. - -"I'm going to my room, Guardy," she condescended to say, with her foot -on the first carpeted step, "and you will please send Lucy up with tea -and toast immediately. I'm a great deal too tired to offer any -explanation to-night. I feel as if I had been riding about in a -hackney-carriage for a century or two, like Peter Rugg, the missing -man--if you heard of Peter;" with which Miss Dane toiled slowly and -wearily up the grand staircase, and the group of gentlemen were left in -the hall below blankly gazing in one another's faces. - -"Eminently characteristic," observed Mr. Ingelow, the first to break the -silence, with a soft laugh. - -"Upon my word," said Dr. Oleander, with his death's-head smile, "Miss -Mollie's return is far more remarkable than her departure! That young -lady's _sang-froid_ requires to be seen to be believed in." - -"Where can she have been?" asked Lawyer Sardonyx, helplessly taking -snuff. - -The two men most interested in the young lady's return said nothing: -they were far beyond that. They could only look at each other in mute -astonishment. At last-- - -"The anonymous letter did speak the truth," observed Mr. Walraven. - -"What anonymous letter?" asked Lawyer Sardonyx, sharply. - -"Sir Roger received an anonymous letter a week ago, informing him Mollie -would be back a week after its date. We neither of us paid any attention -to it, and yet, lo! it has come true." - -"Have you that letter about you, Sir Roger?" inquired the lawyer. "I -should like to see it, if you have no objection." - -Mechanically Sir Roger put his hand in his pocket, and produced the -document. The lawyer glanced keenly over it. - -"'One Who Knows.' Ah! 'One Who Knows' is a woman, I am certain. That's a -woman's hand, I am positive. Look here, Oleander!" - -"My opinion exactly! Couldn't possibly be Miss Dane's own writing, could -it?" once more with his spectral smile. - -"Sir!" cried the baronet, reddening angrily. - -"I beg your pardon. But look at the case dispassionately, Sir Roger. -My previous impression that Miss Dane was not forcibly abducted is -continued by the strange manner of her return." - -"Mine also," chimed in Lawyer Sardonyx. - -"Suppose we all postpone forming an opinion on the subject," said the -lazy voice of the young artist, "until to-morrow, and allow Miss Dane, -when the has recovered from her present fatigue and hunger, to explain -for herself." - -"Thanks, Ingelow"--Mr. Walraven turned a grateful glance upon the -lounging artist--"and, meantime, gentlemen, let us adjourn to the -drawing-room. Standing talking here I don't admire." - -He led the way; the others followed--Sir Roger last of all, lost in a -maze of bewilderment that utterly spoiled his joy at his bride's return. - -"What can it mean? What can it mean?" he kept perpetually asking -himself. "What is all this mystery? Surely--surely it can not be as -these men say! Mollie can not have gone off of herself!" - -It was rather dull the remainder of the evening. The guests took their -departure early. Sir Roger lingered behind the rest, and when alone with -him the master of the house summoned Lucy. That handmaiden appeared, her -eyes dancing with delight in her head. - -"Where is your mistress, Lucy?" Mr. Walraven asked. - -"Gone to bed, sir," said Lucy, promptly. - -"You brought her up supper?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"What did she say to you?" - -"Nothing much, sir, only that she was famished, and jolted to death in -that old carriage; and then she turned me out, saying she felt as though -she could sleep a week." - -"Nothing more?" - -"Nothing more, sir." - -Lucy was dismissed. - -Mr. Walraven turned to the baronet sympathizingly. - -"I feel as deeply mystified and distressed about this matter as even you -can do, my dear Sir Roger; but you perceive there is nothing for it but -to wait. Oleander was right this evening when he said the rules that -measure other women fail with Mollie. She is an original, and we must be -content to bide her time. Come early to-morrow--come to breakfast--and -doubtless all will be explained to our satisfaction." - -And so Mr. Walraven thought, and he fancied he understood Mollie pretty -well; but even Mr. Walraven did not know the depth of aggravation his -flighty ward was capable of. - -Sir Roger did come early on the morrow--ridiculously early, Mrs. Carl -said, sharply; but then Mrs. Carl was exasperated beyond everything at -Mollie presuming to return at all. She was sure she had got rid of her -so nicely--so sure Mistress Mollie had come to grief in some way for her -sins--that it was a little too bad to have her come walking coolly back -and taking possession again, as if nothing had happened. - -Breakfast hour arrived, but Miss Dane did not arrive with it. They -waited ten minutes, when Mrs. Carl lost patience and protested angrily -she would not wait an instant longer. - -"Eccentricity is a little too mild a word to apply to your ward's -actions, Mr. Walraven," she said, turning angrily upon her husband. -"Mollie Dane is either a very mad girl or a very wicked one. In either -case, she is a fit subject for a lunatic asylum, and the sooner she is -incased in a strait-jacket and her antics ended, the better." - -"Madame!" thundered Mr. Walraven, furiously, while the baronet reddened -with rage to the roots of his silvery hair. - -"Oh, I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Walraven," said Mrs. Walraven, coolly, -"not afraid to speak my mind, either. None but a lunatic would act as -she has acted, running away on her wedding-night and coming back a -fortnight after. The idea of her being forcibly abducted is all stuff -and nonsense. Heaven only knows where the past two weeks have been -spent!" - -"Mrs. Walraven," said the Welsh baronet; with awful, suppressed passion, -"you forget you speak of my future wife." - -"I forget nothing, Sir Roger Trajenna. When Miss Dane gives a -satisfactory explanation of her conduct it will be quite time enough to -take her part. Mr. Walraven are you going to eat your breakfast, or am -I to take it alone?" - -Mr. Walraven seized the bell-rope and nearly tore it down. A -maid-servant appeared. - -"Go up to Miss Dane's room and tell her we are waiting breakfast!" -roared Mr. Walraven in a stentorian voice. - -The girl obeyed in dire alarm. In an instant she was back. - -"Miss Dane's not up yet, and says she doesn't expect to be for some -time. She says you'd better not wait for her, as you will very likely be -painfully hungry if you do." - -"I thought so," remarked Mrs. Carl, shortly. - -Mr. Walraven bit his lip, the baronet looked like a thundercloud, but -both took their places. To all but the mistress of the mansion the -breakfast business was a dead failure. Mrs. Carl ate with a very good -appetite, finished her meal, arose, rang the bell, and ordered the -carriage to be ready in an hour. - -The gentlemen adjourned to the library to smoke and wait. The hour -elapsed. Mrs. Walraven departed in state, and dead calm fell upon the -house. Another hour--the waiting twain were growing fidgety and nervous, -crackling their newspapers and puffing at their cigars. - -"I vow that mad girl is making me as hysterical as a cranky old maid!" -growled Mr. Walraven. "If she doesn't appear in half an hour, I'll go up -to her room and carry her down willy-nilly!" - -"Would yon really be so cruel, guardy?" said a soft voice, and wheeling -round, the astonished pair saw the culprit before them. "Have you no -pity for your poor little Mollie, and can't you let her be as lazy as -she pleases? Good-morning, Sir Roger Trajenna." - -How lovely Mollie looked! The golden curls fell in a shining shower over -the dainty white cashmere robe, belted with blue velvet, soft white lace -and a diamond pin sparkling at the rounded throat. She came forward with -a bright smile and outstretched hand to greet them. - -"I was cross last night, you know," she said, "and couldn't properly -speak to my friends. Traveling steadily, for goodness knows how many -hours, in a bumping coach, would wear out the patience of a saint--and -you know I'm not a saint!" - -"No," said Mr. Walraven; "very far from it. Nearer the other thing, I -suspect." - -"Now, guardy," said Mollie, reproachfully, "how can you? And after I've -been lost, and you've been all distracted about me, too! Oh, how I -should like to have seen the fuss and the uproar, and the dismay and -distraction generally! Do tell me what you all thought." - -"I'll tell you nothing of the sort," said her guardian, sternly. "Have -you no feeling in that flinty heart of yours, Mollie Dane?" - -"Well, now, guardy, if you'll believe me, I'm not so sure I've got a -heart at all. There's something that beats in here"--tapping lightly -on her white bodice--"but for going frantic with love or hate, or -jealousy or sorrow, or any of those hysterical things that other -people's hearts seem made for, I don't believe I have. I tell you this -frankly"--glancing sideways at Sir Roger Trajenna--"in order to warn you -and everybody not to be too fond of me. I'm not worth it, you see, and -if you take me for more than my value, and get disappointed afterward, -the fault's not mine, but yours." - -Mr. Walraven looked at her in surprise. - -"Rather a lengthy speech, isn't it, Mollie? Suppose you leave off -lecturing, and tell us where you've been for the last two weeks." - -"Where do you suppose I've been?" - -"We can't suppose on such a question; it is impossible. I desire you to -tell us." - -"And if I don't, guardy?" - -She looked up at him rather defiantly--seated on a low stool, her elfish -chin in her elfish hand, her pretty little rose-bloom face peeping -brightly out from the scented yellow curls. - -"Mollie!" - -"Guardy, see here: it's of no use getting cross. I can't tell you where -I've been, because I don't know myself." - -"Mollie!" - -"It's true as preaching, guardy. You know I don't tell fibs--except in -fun. I don't know where I was, and so I can't tell you, and I'd a good -deal rather you wouldn't ask me." - -"Mollie!" - -"Oh, what's the use of Mollieing?" cried the young lady, waxing -impatient. "I was taken somewhere, and I don't know where--'pon my word -and honor, I don't--and I was kept a prisoner in a nasty room, by people -I don't know, to punish me for flirting, I was told; and when I was -there two weeks, and punished sufficiently, Heaven knows, I was fetched -home. Guardy, there's everything I know or can tell you about the -matter. Now, please be good, and don't bother with tiresome questions." - -Mr. Walraven stood and looked at her, a petrified gazer. Such unheard-of -impudence! Sir Roger Trajenna took up the catechism. - -"Your pardon, Mollie, but I must ask you a few more questions. There was -a young person brought you a letter on the night we were--" His voice -failed. "May I ask who was that young person, and what were the contents -of that letter?" - -Mollie looked up, frowning impatiently. But the baronet was so pale and -troubled asking his questions that she had not the heart to refuse. - -"That young person, Sir Roger, called herself Sarah Grant. The letter -purported to come from a woman who knew me before I knew myself. It told -me she was dying, and had important revelations to make to me--implored -me to hasten at once if I would see her alive. I believed the letter, -and went with Sarah. That letter, Sir Roger, was a forgery and a trap." - -"Into which you fell?" - -"Into which I fell headlong. The greatest ninny alive could not have -been snared more easily." - -"You have no idea who perpetrated this atrocity?" - -"No," said Mollie, "no idea. I wish I had! If I wouldn't make him sup -sorrow in spoonfuls, my name's not Mollie! There, Sir Roger, that will -do. You've heard all I've got to tell, and the better way will be to ask -no more questions. If you think I am not sufficiently explicit--if you -think I keep anything back that you have a right to know--why, there is -only one course left. You can take it, and welcome. I release you from -all ties to me. I shall think you perfectly justified, and we will -continue the best possible friends." She said it firmly, with an eye -that flashed and a cheek that burned. "There is only one thing can make -us quarrel, Sir Roger--that is, asking me questions I don't choose to -answer. And I don't choose to answer in the present case." - -"But I insist upon your answering, Mollie Dane!" burst out Carl -Walraven. "I don't choose to be mystified and humbugged in this -egregious manner. I insist upon a complete explanation." - -"Do you, indeed, Mr. Walraven? And how are you going to get it?" - -"From you, Mollie Dane." - -"Not if I know myself--and I rather fancy I do! Oh, no, Mr. -Walraven--no, you don't! I shan't say another word to you, or to any -other living being, until I choose; and it's no use bullying, for you -can't make me, you know. I've given Sir Roger his alternative, and I can -give you yours. If you don't fancy my remaining here under a cloud, why, -I can go as I came, free as the wind that blows. You've only to say the -word, Guardy Walraven!" - -The blue eyes flashed as Carl Walraven had never seen them flash before; -the pink-tinged cheeks flamed rose-red; but her voice never rose, and -she kept her quaint seat on the stool. - -"Cricket! Cricket! Cricket!" was "guardy's" reproachful cry. - -"You dear old thing! You wouldn't like to lose your hateful little -tom-boy, would you? Well, you shan't, either. I only meant to scare you -that time. You'll ask me no more nasty questions, and I'll stay and be -your Cricket the same as ever, and we'll try and forget the little -episode of the past two weeks. And as for you, Sir Roger, don't you do -anything rash. Just think things over, and make sure you're perfectly -satisfied, before you have anything to do with me, for I don't intend to -explain any more than I have explained. I'm a good-for-nothing, giddy -little moth, I know; but I don't really want to deceive anybody. No; -don't speak on impulse, dear Sir Roger. Take a week or two, and think -about it." - -She kissed her hand coquettishly to the two gentlemen, and tripped out -of the room. - -And there they sat, looking at each other, altogether bewildered and -dazed, and altogether more infatuated about her than ever. - -Society was electrified at finding Miss Dane back, and looked eagerly -for the sequel to this little romance. They got it from Mr. Walraven. - -Mr. Walraven, bland as oil, told them his ward had received on her -bridal night a summons to the bedside of a dying and very near relative. -Miss Dane, ever impulsive and eccentric, had gone. She had remained with -the dying relative for a fortnight, and merely for mischief--no need to -tell them how mischievous his ward was--had kept the whole matter a -secret. It was very provoking, certainly, but was just like provoking -Mollie Dane. - -Mr. Walraven related this little fable smiling sweetly, and with -excellent grace. But society took the story for what it was worth, -and shook its head portentously over Miss Dane and her mysteries. - -Nobody knew who she was, where she came from, or what relation she -bore to Mr. Walraven, and nobody believed Mr. Walraven and his little -romance. - -But as Mesdames Walraven, mother and wife, countenanced the extraordinary -creature with the flighty way and amber curls, and as she was the ward of -a millionaire, why, society smiled graciously, and welcomed Mollie back -with charming sweetness. - -A fortnight passed--the fortnight of probation she had given Sir Roger. -There was a grand dinner-party at some commercial nabob's up the avenue, -and all the Walraven family were there. There, too, was the Welsh -baronet, stately and grand-seigneur-like as ever; there were Dr. -Oleander, Lawyer Sardonyx, Hugh Ingelow, and the little witch who had -thrown her wicked sorceries over them, brighter, more sparkling, more -lovely than ever. - -And at the dinner-party Mollie was destined to receive a shock; for, -just before they paired off to the dining-room, there entered a late -guest, announced as the "Reverend Mr. Rashleigh," and, looking in the -Reverend Mr. Rashleigh's face, Mollie Dane recognized him at once. - -She was standing at the instant, as it chanced, beside Hugh Ingelow, -gayly helping him to satirize a magnificent "diamond wedding" they had -lately attended; but at the sight of the portly, commonplace gentleman, -the words seemed to freeze on her lips. - -With her eyes fixed on his face, her own slowly whitening until it -was blanched, Mollie stood and gazed and gazed. Hugh Ingelow looked -curiously from one to the other. - -"In Heaven's name, Miss Mollie, do you see the Marble Guest, or some -invisible familiar, peeping over that fat gentleman's shoulder? What do -you see? You look as though you were going to faint." - -"Do you know that gentleman?" she managed to ask. - -"Do I know him--Reverend Raymond Rashleigh? Better than I know myself, -Miss Dane. When I was a little chap in roundabouts they used to take me -to his church every Sunday, and keep me in wriggling torments through a -three-hours' sermon. Yes, I know him, to my sorrow." - -"He is a clergyman, then?" Mollie said, slowly. - -Mr. Ingelow stared at the odd question. - -"I have always labored under that impression, Miss Dane, and so does the -Reverend Mr. Rashleigh himself, I fancy. If you choose, I'll present -him, and then you can cross-question him at your leisure." - -"No, no!" cried Mollie, detaining him; "not for the world! I don't wish -to make his acquaintance. See, they are filing off! I fall to your lot, -I suppose." - -She took her rejected suitor's arm--somehow, she was growing to like -to be with Hugh Ingelow--and they entered the dining-room together. But -Mollie was still very, very pale, and very unusually quiet. - -Her face and neck gleamed against her pink dinner-dress like snow, and -her eyes wandered furtively ever and anon over to the Reverend Mr. -Rashleigh. - -She listened to every word that he spoke as though they were the fabled -pearls and diamonds of the fairy tale that dropped from his lips. - -"Positively, Miss Dane," Hugh Ingelow remarked in his lazy voice, "it is -love at first sight with the Reverend Raymond. Think better of it, pray; -he's fat and forty, and has one wife already." - -"Hush!" said Mollie, imperiously. - -And Mr. Ingelow, stroking his mustache meditatively, hushed, and -listened to a story the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh was about to relate. - -"So extraordinary a story," he said, glancing around him, "that I can -hardly realize it myself or credit my own senses. It is the only -adventure of my life, and I am free to confess I wish it may remain so. - -"It is about three weeks ago. I was sitting, one stormy night--Tuesday -night it was--in my study, in after-dinner mood, enjoying the luxury -of a good fire and a private clerical cigar, when a young -woman--respectable-looking young person--entered, and informed me that a -sickly relative, from whom I have expectations, was dying, and wished to -see me immediately. - -"Of course I started up at once, donned hat and greatcoat, and followed -my respectable young person into a cab waiting at the door. Hardly was I -in when I was seized by some invisible personage, bound, blindfolded, -and gagged, and driven through the starry spheres, for all I know, for -hours and hours interminable. - -"Presently we stopped. I was led out--led into a house, upstairs, my -uncomfortable bandages removed, and the use of my eyesight restored. - -"I was in a large room, furnished very much like anybody's parlor, and -brilliantly lighted. My companion of the carriage was still at my elbow. -I turned to regard him. My friends, he was masked like a Venetian bravo, -and wore a romantic inky cloak, like a Roman toga, that swept the floor. - -"I sat aghast, the cold perspiration oozing from every pore. I make -light of it now, but I could see nothing to laugh at then. Was I going -to be robbed and murdered? Why had I been decoyed here? - -"My friend of the mask did not leave me long in suspense. Not death and -its horrors was to be enacted, but marriage--marriage, my friends--and I -was to perform the ceremony. - -"I listened to him like a man in a dream. He himself was the bridegroom. -The bride was to appear masked, also, and I was only to hear their -Christian names--Ernest--Mary. He offered no explanations, no apologies; -he simply stated facts. I was to marry them and ask no questions, and I -was to be conveyed safely home the same night. If I refused-- - -"My masked gentleman paused, and left an awful hiatus for me to fill up. -I did not refuse--by no means. It has always been my way to make the -best of a bad bargain--of two evils to choose the lesser. I consented. - -"The bridegroom with the black mask quitted the room, and returned with -a bride in a white mask. She was all in white, as it is right and proper -to be--flowing veil, orange wreath, trailing silk robe--everything quite -nice. But the white mask spoiled all. She was undersized and very -slender, and there was one peculiarity about her I noticed--an abundance -of bright, golden ringlets." - -The reverend gentleman paused an instant to take breath. - -Mollie Dane, scarcely breathing herself, listening absorbed, here -became conscious, by some sort of prescience, of the basilisk gaze her -guardian's wife had fixed upon her. - -The strangest, smile sat on her arrogant face as she looked steadfastly -at Mollie's flowing yellow curls. - -"I married that mysterious pair," went on the clergyman--"Ernest and -Mary. There were two witnesses--my respectable young woman and the -coachman; there was the ring--everything necessary and proper." - -Mollie's left hand was on the table. A plain, thick band of gold gleamed -on the third finger. She hastily snatched it away, but not before Mrs. -Walraven's black eyes saw it. - -"I was brought home," concluded the clergyman, "and left standing, as -morning broke, close to my own door, and I have never heard or seen my -mysterious masks since. There's an adventure for you!" - -The ladies rose from the table. As they passed into the drawing-room, -a hand fell upon Mollie's shoulder. Glancing back, she saw the face of -Mrs. Carl Walraven, lighted with a malicious smile. - -"Such a queer story, Mollie! And such an odd bride--undersized, very -slender, golden ringlets--name, Mary! My pretty Cricket, I think I know -where you passed that mysterious fortnight!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -A MIDNIGHT TETE-A-TETE. - - -Mollie Dane sat alone in her pretty room. A bright fire burned in the -grate. Old Mme. Walraven liked coal-fires, and would have them -throughout the house. It was very late--past midnight--but the gas -burned full flare, its garish flame subdued by globes of tinted glass, -and Mollie, on a low stool before the fire, was still in all the -splendor of her pink silk dinner-dress, her laces, her pearls. - -Mollie's considering-cap was on, and Mollie's dainty brows were -contracted, and the rosebud month ominously puckered. Miss Dane was -doing what she did not often do--thinking--and the thoughts chasing one -another through her flighty brain were evidently the reverse of -pleasant. - -"So I'm really married," mused the young lady--"really and truly -married!--and I've been thinking all along it was only a sham ceremony." - -She lifted up her left hand and looked at the shining wedding-ring. - -"Ernest! Such a pretty name! And that's all I know about him. Oh, who -is he, among all the men I know--who? It's not Doctor Oleander--I'm -certain it's not, although the height and shape are the same; and I -don't think it's Sardonyx, and I know it's not Hugh Ingelow--handsome -Hugh!--because he hasn't the pluck, and he's a great deal too lazy. If -it's the lawyer or the doctor, I'll have a divorce, certain. If it were -the artist--more's the pity it's not--I--well, I shouldn't ask for a -divorce. I do like Hugh! I like him more and more every day, and I -almost wish I hadn't played that shameful trick upon him. I know he -loves me dearly--poor little, mad-headed me! And I--oh! how could I -think to marry Sir Roger Trajenna, knowing in my heart I loved Hugh? -Dear, dear! it's such a pity I can't be good, and take to love-making, -and marriage, and shirt-buttons, like other girls! But I can't; it's not -in me. I was born a rattle-pate, and I don't see how any one can blame -me for letting 'nater caper.'" - -She rose up impatiently and began pacing the room--always her first -impulse in moments of perplexity. - -"I'm a mystery and a puzzle to myself and to everybody else. I don't -know who I am, nor what my real name may be--if I have any right to a -name! I don't know what I am to this Mr. Walraven, and I don't know who -that mysterious woman, Miriam, is. I don't know anything. I have a -husband, and I don't know him--shouldn't recognize him if I met him -face to face this instant. I'm like the mysterious orphans in the -story-books, and I expect it will turn out I have a duke for a father, -somewhere or other." - -Miss Dane walked to the window, drew the curtain, and looked out. - -The full April moon, round and white, shone down in silvery radiance -upon the deserted avenue; the sky was aglitter with myriad stars; the -rattling of belated vehicles came, faint and far off, on the windless -night. - -No-one was visible--not even a stray "guardian of the night," treading -his solitary round--and Mollie, after one glance at the starry concave, -was about to drop the curtain and retire, when a tall, dark figure came -fluttering up the street, pausing before the Walraven mansion, and -gazing up earnestly at its palatial front. - -Mollie recognized that towering form instantly, and, impulsively opening -the sash, she leaned forward and called: - -"Miriam!" - -The woman heard her, responded, and advanced. - -Mollie leaned further out. - -"Have you come to see me?" - -"I should like to see you. I heard you had returned, and came here, -though I did not expect to meet you at this hour." - -"Wait one moment," said Mollie; "I will go down and let you in." - -She closed the window and flew down-stairs, opened the house door -softly, and beckoned. - -Miriam entered. Ten minutes later, and they were safely closeted in the -young lady's cozy room. - -"Sit down, Aunt Miriam, and take off your shawl. You look cold and -wretched and half starved." - -The woman turned her hollow eyes mournfully upon her. They were indeed a -contrast--the bright vision in the rose silk dress, the floating amber -curls, the milky pearls, the foamy lace, and the weird woman in the -wretched rags, with sunken cheeks and hollow, spectral eyes. - -"I am cold and wretched and half starved," she said, in a harsh -voice--"a miserable, homeless outcast, forsaken of God and man. My bed -is a bundle of filthy straw, my food a crust or a bone, my garments rags -from the gutters. And yet I accept my fate, since you are rich and well -and happy." - -"My poor, poor Miriam! Let me go and get you something to eat, and a -glass of wine to refresh you. It is dreadful to see any human being so -destitute." - -She started impetuously up, but Miriam stretched forth her hand to -detain her, her fierce eyes flaming up. - -"Not half so dreadful, Mollie Dane, as the eating the bread or drinking -the cup of Carl Walraven! No; I told him before, and I tell you now, I -would die in a kennel, like a stray dog, before I would accept help from -him." - -"Miriam!" - -Miriam made an impatient gesture. - -"Don't let us talk about me. Let us talk about yourself. It is my first -chance since you came here. You are well and happy, are you not? You -look both." - -"I am well and I am happy; that is, as happy as I can be, shrouded in -mystery. Miriam, I have been thinking about myself. I have learned to -think, of late, and I would give a year of my life to know who I am." - -"What do you want to know?" Miriam asked, gloomily. - -"Who I am; what my name may be; who were my parents--everything that I -ought to know." - -"Why do you speak to me about it?" - -"Because you know, I am certain; because you can tell me, if you will. -Tell me, Miriam--tell me!" - -She leaned forward, her ringed hands clasped, her blue eyes lighted and -eager, her pretty face aglow. But Miriam drew back with a frown. - -"I have nothing to tell you, Mollie--nothing that would make you better -or happier to hear. Be content and ask no questions." - -"I can't be content, and I must ask questions!" the girl cried, -passionately. "If you cared for me, as you seem to, you would tell me! -What is Mr. Walraven to me? Why has he brought me here?" - -"Ask him." - -"He won't tell me. He says he took a fancy to me, seeing me play -'Fanchon' at K----, and brought me here and adopted me. A very likely -story! No, Miriam; I am silly enough, Heaven knows, but I am not quite -so silly as that. He came after me because you sent him, and because I -have some claim on him he dare not forego. What is it, Miriam? Am I his -daughter?" - -Miriam sat and stared at her a moment in admiring wonder, then her dark, -gaunt face relaxed into a grim smile. - -"What a sharp little witch it is! His daughter, indeed! What do you -think about it yourself? Does the voice of nature speak in your filial -heart, or is the resemblance between you so strong?" - -Mollie shook her sunny curls. - -"The 'voice of nature' has nothing to say in the matter, and I am no more -like him than a white chick is like a mastiff. But it might be so, you -know, for all that." - -"I know. Would it make you any happier to know you were his daughter?" - -"I don't know," said Mollie, thoughtfully. "I dare say not. For, if I -were his daughter and had a right to his name, I would probably bear -it, and be publicly acknowledged as such before now; and if I am his -daughter, with no right to his name, I know I would not live ten-minutes -under the same roof with him after finding it out." - -"Sharp little Mollie! Ask no questions, then, and I'll tell you no lies. -Take the goods the gods provide, and be content." - -"But, Miriam, are you really my aunt?" - -"Yes; that much is true." - -"And your name is Dane?" - -"It is." - -"And my mother was your sister, and I bear my mother's name?" - -The dark, weather-beaten face of the haggard woman lighted up with a -fiery glow, and into either eye leaped a devil. - -"Mollie Dane, if you ever want me to speak to you again, never breathe -the name of your mother. Whatever she did, and whatever she was, the -grave has closed over her, and there let her lie. I never want to hear -her name this side of eternity." - -Mollie looked almost frightened; she shrunk away with a wistful little -sigh. - -"I am never to know, then, if seems, and I am to go on through life a -cheat and a lie. It is very hard. People have found out already I am not -what I seem." - -"How?" sharply. - -"Why, the night I was deluded from home, it was by a letter signed -'Miriam' purporting to come from you, saying you were dying, and that -you wanted to tell me all. I went, and walked straight into the -cunningest trap that ever was set for a poor little girl." - -"You have no idea from whom that letter came?" - -"Not the slightest. I am pretty sure, though, it came from my husband." - -"Your--what?" - -"My husband, Miriam! You didn't know Miss Dane was a respectable married -woman, did you? It's true, however. I've been married over a month." - -There was no doubting the face with which it was said. Miriam sat -staring, utterly confounded. - -"Good heavens! Married! You never mean it, Mollie?" - -"I do mean it. It's an accomplished fact, Mrs. Miriam Dane, and there's -my wedding-ring." - -She held up her left hand. Among the opals, and pearls, and pale -emeralds flashing there, gleamed a little circlet of plain gold--badge -of woman's servitude. - -"Married!" Miriam gasped, in indescribable consternation. "I thought you -were to marry Sir Roger Trajenna?" - -"So I was--so I would have, if I had been let alone. But that letter -from you came--that forgery, you know--and I was carried off and -married, willy-nilly, to somebody else. Who that somebody else is, I -don't know." - -"You don't know?" - -"Haven't the slightest idea! I've a good mind to tell you the story. I -haven't told any one yet, and the weight of a secret a month old is -getting a little too much for me. It would be a relief to get some one -else to keep it for me, and I fancy you could keep a secret as well as -any one else I know." - -"I can keep your secret, Mollie. Go on." - -So Mollie began and related the romantic story of that fortnight she had -passed away from home. - -"And you consented to marry him," Miriam exclaimed, when she had got -that far--"you consented to marry a man totally unknown to you, whose -face you had not even seen, whose name you did not even know, for the -sake of freedom? Mollie, you're nothing but a miserable little coward, -after all!" - -"Perhaps so," said Mollie, defiantly. "But I would do it again, and -twice as much, for freedom. Think of being cooped up in four stifling -walls, shut in from the blessed sunshine and fresh air of heaven. I tell -you that man would have kept me there until now, and should have gone -stark, staring mad in half the time. Oh, dear!" cried Mollie, -impatiently, "I wish I was a gypsy, free and happy, to wander about all -day long, singing in the sunshine, to sleep at night under the waving -trees, to tell fortunes, and wear a pretty scarlet cloak, and never -know, when I got up in the morning, where I would lie down at night. -It's nothing but a nuisance, and a trouble, and a bother, being rich, -and dressing for dinner, and going to the opera and two or three parties -of a night, and being obliged to talk and walk and eat and sleep by line -and plummet. I hate it all!" - -"You're tired of it, then?" Miriam asked, with a curious smile. - -"Yes; just now I am. The fit will pass away, I suppose, as other similar -fits have passed." - -"I wonder you never take it into your head to go back upon the stage. -You liked that life?" - -"Liked it? Yes: and I will, too," said Mollie, recklessly, "some day, -when I'm more than usually aggravated. It strikes me, however, I should -like to find out my husband first." - -"Finish your story. You married this masked man?" - -"Yes; that very night, about midnight, we were married. Sarah came to me -early in the evening, and told me to be ready, that the clergyman would -be there, and that I was to be wedded under my Christian name, Mary, -alone. I still wore the wedding-robes in which I was to have been made -Lady Trajenna. To these a white silk mask, completely hiding my face, -was added, and I was led forth by my masked bridegroom into another -apartment, and stood face to face with a portly, reverend gentleman of -most clerical aspect and most alarmed face. I thought he had a familiar -look, but in the confusion of such a moment I could not place him. I -know him now, though--it was the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh, of St. -Pancras'. I've heard him preach dozens of times." - -"How came he to lend himself to such an irregular proceeding?" - -"By force, as I did. He was carried off in much the same fashion, and -scared pretty nearly out of his wits--married us to get free--like me -again. At the conclusion of the ceremony, I returned with Sarah to the -inner room, and the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh was safely taken home." - -There was a pause. Mollie sat looking with knitted brows into the fire. - -"Well?" questioned Miriam, sharply. - -"I stayed there a week," went on Mollie, hurriedly. "It was part of the -compact, and if he was to keep his, and liberate me, I was to remain -quietly as long as I had promised. But it was not so long in passing. I -had the range of two or three rooms--all with carefully closed blinds, -however--and I had a piano and plenty of books, and as much of Miss -Sarah Grant's society as I chose. There was nothing to be got out of -her, however, and I tried hard enough, goodness knows. You might as well -wring a dry sponge." - -"And the man you married?" - -"Oh, he was there, too--off and on everyday; but he kept me as much in -the dark as Sarah. He always persisted in speaking French to me--that I -might fail to recognize his voice, I dare say; and he spoke it as -fluently as a Frenchman. But he was really an agreeable companion, could -talk about everything I liked to talk about, could play the piano to a -charm, and I should have liked him immensely if he had not been my -husband, and if he had not worn that odious mask. Do you know, Miriam," -flashing a sudden look up, "if he had taken off that mask, and showed me -the handsome face of one of my rejected suitors I did not absolutely -abhor, I think I should have consented to stay with him always. He was -so nice to talk to, and I liked his bold stroke for a wife--so much in -the 'Dare-Devil Dick' style. But I would have been torn to pieces before -I'd have dropped a hint to that effect." - -"If it had been Doctor Oleander, would you have consented to stay with -him as his wife?" - -"Doctor Oleander? No. Didn't I say if it were some one I did not -absolutely abhor? I absolutely and utterly and altogether abhor and -detest Doctor Oleander!" - -"What is that? Some one is listening." - -Miriam had started in alarm to her feet; Mollie rose up also, and stood -hearkening. There had been a suppressed sound, like a convulsive sneeze, -outside the door. Mollie flung it wide in an instant. The hall lamp -poured down its subdued light all along the stately corridor, on -pictures and statues and cabinets, but no living thing was visible. - -"There is no one," said Mollie. "It was cats or rats, or the rising wind. -Every one in the house is asleep." - -She closed the door and went back to the fire. As she did so, a face -peeped out from behind a great, carved Indian cabinet, not far from the -door--a face lighted with a diabolical smile of triumph. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -"BLACK MASK"--"WHITE MASK." - - -"Finish your story!" exclaimed Miriam, impatiently. "Morning is coming, -and like owls and bats and other noxious creatures, I hide from the -daylight. How did you escape?" - -"I didn't escape," said Mollie. "I couldn't. The week expired--my masked -husband kept his word and sent me home." - -"Sent you! Did he not fetch you?" - -"No; the man who drove the carriage--who, with the girl Sarah, witnessed -the marriage--brought me. Sarah bound me, although there was no -occasion, and the man led me down and put me in. Sarah accompanied me, -and I was driven to the very corner here. They let me out, and, before I -had time to catch my breath, were off and away." - -"And that is all?" said Miriam, wonderingly. - -"All! I should think it was enough. It sounds more like a chapter out of -the 'Castle of Otranto,' or the 'Mysteries of Udolpho,' than an incident -in the life of a modern New York belle. For, of course, you know, Madame -Miriam," concluded the pretty coquette, tossing back airily all her -bright curls, "I am a belle--a reigning belle--the beauty of the -season!" - -"A little conceited, goosey girl--that's what you are, Mollie Dane, whom -ever this terrible event can not make serious and sensible." - -"Terrible event! Now, Miriam, I'm not so sure about that. If I liked -the hero of the adventure--and I have liked some of my rejected -flirtees, poor fellows!--I should admire his pluck, and fall straightway -in love with him for his romantic daring. It is so like what those old -fellows--knights and barons and things--used to do, you know. And if I -didn't like him--if it were Sardonyx or Oleander--sure, there would be -the fun and fame of having my name in all the papers in the country as -the heroine of the most romantic adventure of modern times. There would -be sensation novels and high-pressure melodramas manufactured out of it, -and I would figure in the Divorce Court, and wake up some day, like Lord -Byron, and find myself famous." - -Miriam listened to this rattle with a face of infinite contempt. - -"Silly child! It will ruin your prospects for life. Sir Roger will never -marry you now." - -"No," said Mollie, composedly, "I don't think he will; for the simple -reason that I wouldn't have him." - -"Wouldn't have him? What do you mean?" - -"What I say, auntie. I wouldn't marry him, or anybody else, just now. I -mean to find out who is my husband first." - -"Do they know this extraordinary story?" - -Mollie laughed. - -"No, poor things! And he and guardy are dying by inches of curiosity. -Guardy has concocted a story, and tells it with his blandest air to -everybody; and everybody smiles, and bows, and listens, and nobody -believes a word of it. And that odious Mrs. Carl--there's no keeping her -in the dark. She has the cunning of a serpent, that woman. She has an -inkling of the truth, already." - -"How?" - -"Well, Mr. Rashleigh--the clergyman, you know, who was abducted to marry -us--was at a dinner-party this very day--or, rather, yesterday, for it's -two in the morning now--and at dinner he related his whole wonderful -adventure. Of course, he didn't see my face or know me; but he described -the bride--small, slender, with a profusion of golden ringlets. You -should have seen Mrs. Carl look across the table at me--you should have -heard her hiss in my ear, in her venomous, serpent-like way: 'I think I -know where you spent that fortnight.' I couldn't sleep to-night for -thinking of it, and that's how I came to be awake so late, and to see -you from the window. I'm not afraid of her; but I know she means me -mischief, if she can." - -Miriam gazed thoughtfully at her. She looked a very helpless, childish -little creature, sitting there--the youthful face looking out of that -sunshiny cloud of curls. - -"She is your deadly enemy, then, Mollie. Why does she dislike you so -much?" - -"Because I dislike her, I suppose, and always did, and she knew it. It -is a case of mutual repulsion. We were enemies at first sight. Then she -is jealous of me--of my influence with her husband. She is provoked that -she can not fathom the mystery of my belongings, and she thinks, I know, -I am Mr. Walraven's daughter, _sub rosa_; and, to cap the climax, I -won't marry her cousin, Doctor Oleander." - -"You seem to dislike Doctor Oleander very much?" - -"I do," said Mollie, pithily. "I'd give him and the handsome Blanche a -dose of strychnine each, with all the pleasure in life, if it wasn't a -hanging matter. I don't care about being hanged. It's bad enough to be -married and not know who your husband is." - -"It may be this Doctor Oleander." - -Mollie's eyes blazed up. - -"If it is!"--she caught her breath and stopped--"if it is, Miriam, I vow -I would blow his brains out first, and my own afterward! No, no, no! -Such a horrible thing couldn't be!" - -"Do you know, Mollie," said Miriam, slowly, "I think you are in love?" - -"Ah! do you really? Well, Miriam, you used to spae fortunes for a -living. Look into my palm now, and tell me who is the unhappy man." - -"Is this artist you speak of handsome and young?" - -"Handsome and young, and tolerably rich, and remarkably clever. Is it -he?" - -"I think it is." - -Mollie smiled softly, and looked into the glowing mask of coals. - -"You forget I refused him, Miriam." - -"Bah! a girl's caprice. If you discovered he was your mysterious -husband, would you blow out his brains and your own?" - -"No," said Mollie, coolly. "I would much rather live with Hugh Ingelow -than die with him. Handsome Hugh." Her eyes softened and grew humid. -"You are right, Miriam. You can spae fortunes, I see. I do like Hugh, -dearly. But he is not the man." - -"No? Are you sure?" - -"Quite sure. He is too chivalrous, for one thing, to force a lady's -inclination." - -"Don't trust any of them. Their motto is: 'All fair in love!' And then, -you know, you played him a very shabby trick." - -"I know I did." - -Miss Dane laughed at the recollection. - -"And he said he would not forget." - -"So they all said. That's why I fear it may be one of the three." - -"And it is one of the three; and you are not the clever girl I give you -credit to be if you can not find it out." - -"How?" - -"Are they so much alike in height, and gait, and manner of speaking, and -fifty other things, that you can't identify him in spite of his mask?" - -"It is not so easy to recognize a masked man when he disguises himself -in a long cloak and speaks French in a feigned voice. Those three men -are very much of a height, and all are straight and slender. I tried and -tried again, I tell you, during that last week, and always failed. -Sometimes I thought it was one, and sometimes another." - -"Try once more," said Miriam, pithily. - -"How?" - -"Are you afraid of this masked man?" - -"Afraid? Certainly not. I have nothing to fear. Did he not keep his word -and restore me to my friends at the expiration of the week? You should -have heard him, Miriam, at that last interview--the eloquent, earnest, -impassioned way in which he bid me good-bye. I declare, I felt tempted -for an instant to say: 'Look here, Mr. Mask; if you love me like that, -and if you're absolutely not a fright, take off that ugly, black -death's-head you wear, and I'll stay with you always, since I am your -wife.' But I didn't." - -"You would not fear to meet him again, then?" - -"On the contrary, I should like it, of all things. There is a halo of -romance about this mysterious husband of mine that renders him intensely -interesting. Girls love romance dearly; and I'm only a girl, you know." - -"And the silliest girl I ever did know," said Miriam. "I believe you're -more than half in love with this man in the mask; and if it turns out to -be the artist, you will plump into his arms, forever and always." - -"I shouldn't wonder in the least," responded the young, lady, coolly. "I -never knew how much I liked poor dear Hugh until I gave him his _congé_. -He's so very, very, very handsome, you see, Miriam; and I adore beauty." - -"Very well. Find out if it's he--and find out at once." - -"More easily said than done, isn't it?" - -"Not at all. You don't suppose he has left the city?" - -"No. He told me that he would not leave--that he would remain and watch -me, unseen and unknown." - -"Then, if you advertise--if you address him through the medium of the -daily papers--he will see and answer your advertisement." - -"Very probably. But he isn't going to tell me who he is. If he had any -intention of doing so, he would have done it last week." - -Miriam shook her head. - -"I'm not so sure about that. You never asked him to reveal himself. You -gave him no reason to suppose you would do otherwise than scorn and -flout him, let him be who he might. It is different now. If it is Hugh -Ingelow, you will forgive him all?" - -"Miriam, see here: why are you so anxious I should forgive this man?" - -"Because I want to see you some respectable man's wife; because I want -to see you safely settled in life, and no longer left to your own -caprices, or those of Carl Walraven. If you love this Hugh Ingelow, and -marry him, you may probably become a rational being and a sensible -matron yet." - -Mollie made a wry face. - -"The last thing I ever want to be. And I don't believe half a dozen -husbands would ever transform me into a 'sensible matron.' But go on, -all the same. I'm open to suggestion. What do you want me to do?" - -"Address this man. Ask him to appoint a meeting. Meet him. Tell him what -you have told me, and make him reveal himself. He will be sure to do it, -if he thinks there are grounds for hope." - -"And if it turns out to be Sardonyx or Oleander--and I have a -presentiment that it's the latter--what then?" - -"'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' I don't believe it is -either. From what you tell me of them, I am sure neither would behave so -honorably at the last--keeping his promise and fetching you home." - -"There is something in that," said Mollie, thoughtfully. "Unless, -indeed, they grew tired of me, or were afraid to imprison me longer. And -my masked husband talked, at the parting, as neither of these reptiles -could talk. It may be some one of whom I have never thought--who knows? -I've had such a quantity of lovers that I couldn't possibly keep the run -of them. However, as I'm dying to meet him again, whoever he is, I'll -take your advice and address him." - -Miriam rose. - -"That is well. And now I must be going. It is past three, and New York -streets will presently be astir. I have a long way to go, and no wish to -be seen." - -"Miriam, stop. Can't I do anything to assist you? You are half starved, -I know: and so miserably clad. Do--do let me aid you?" - -"Never!" the woman cried, "while you are beneath this roof. If ever you -settle down in a house of your own, and your husband permits you to aid -so disreputable a being as I am, I may listen to you. All you have now -belongs to Carl Walraven; and to offer me a farthing of Carl Walraven's -money is to offer me the deadliest of insults." - -"How you hate him! how he must have wronged you!" Again that burning -blaze leaped into the woman's haggard eyes. - -"Ay, girl! hate and wrong are words too poor and weak to express it. But -I bide my time--and it will surely come--when I will have my revenge." - -She opened the door and passed out swiftly. The listener at the key-hole -barely escaped behind the cabinet--no more. - -Mollie, in her rosy silken robes, like a little goddess Aurora, followed -her out, down the stairs, and opened for her the house door. - -The first little pink clouds of the coming morn were blushing in the -east, and the rag-women, with their bags and hooks, were already astir. - -"When shall I see you again?" Mollie said. - -Miriam turned and looked at her, half wonderingly. - -"Do you really wish to see me again, Mollie--such a wretched-looking -being as I am?" - -"Are you not my aunt?" Mollie cried, passionately. "How do I know there -is another being on this earth in whose veins flow the same blood as -mine? And you--you love me, I think." - -"Heaven knows I do, Mollie Dane!" - -"Then why wrong me by such a question? Come again, and again; and come -soon. I will be on the watch for you. And now, farewell!" - -She held out her little white hand. A moment, and they had parted. - -The young girl went slowly back to her room to disrobe and lie down, and -the haggard woman flitted rapidly from street to street, on her way to -the dreary lodgings she called home. - -Two days after, running her eyes greedily over the morning paper, Miriam -read, heading the list of "Personals:" - -"BLACK MASK.--I wish to see you soon, and alone. There is no deception -meant. Appoint time and place, and I will meet you. WHITE MASK." - -"So," said the woman to herself, "she has kept her word. Brave little -Mollie! Oh! that it may be the man she loves! I should be almost happy, -I think, to see her happy--Mary's child!" - -Miriam waited impatiently for the response. In two days it came: - -"WHITE MASK.--To-morrow, Friday night, ten o'clock. Corner Fourteenth -Street and Broadway. BLACK MASK." - -"I, too, will be there," said Miriam. "It can do no harm; it may, -possibly, do some good." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -MRS. CARL WALRAVEN'S LITTLE GAME. - - -Mysterious Miriam, in her dismal garret lodging, was not the only person -who read, and intelligently comprehended, these two very singular -advertisements. - -Of all the hundreds who may have perused and wondered over them, -probably there were but four who understood in the least what was -meant--the two most interested, and Miriam and Mrs. Walraven. - -Stay! There was the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh, who might have seen his -way through, had he chanced to read the "Personal" column of the paper. - -On the Thursday morning that this last advertisement appeared, Mrs. Carl -Walraven sat alone in the pretty boudoir sacred to her privacy. It was -her choice to breakfast alone sometimes, _en dishabille_. It had been -her choice on this particular day. - -At her elbow stood the tiny round table, with its exquisite appointments -of glass, and porcelain, and silver; its chocolate, its toast, its eggs, -its little broiled bird. - -Mrs. Walraven was of the luxurious sort, as your full-blown, high-blooded -Cleopatras are likely to be, and did ample justice to the exquisite -_cuisine_ of the Walraven mansion. - -Lying back gracefully, her handsome morning robe falling loosely around -her, her superb black hair twisted away in a careless, serpentine coil, -her face fresh and blooming, "at peace with the world and all therein," -my lady Blanche digested her breakfast and leisurely skimmed the morning -paper. - -She always liked the "Personals." To-day they had a double interest for -her. She read again and again--a dozen times, at least--that particular -"Personal" appointing the meeting at Fourteenth Street, and a lazy smile -came over her tropical face at last as she laid it down. - -"Nothing could be better," mused Mrs. Walraven, with that indolent smile -shining in her lazy, wicked black eyes. "The little fool sets her trap, -and walks into it herself, like the inconceivable idiot she is. It -reminds one of the ostrich, this advertisement--pretty Mollie buries her -head in the sand, and fancies no one sees her. Now, if Guy only plays -his part--and I think he will, for he's absurdly and ridiculously in -love with the fair-haired tom-boy--she will be caught in the nicest trap -ever silly seventeen walked into. She was caged once, and got free. She -will find herself caged again, and not get free. I shall have my -revenge, and Guy will have his inamorata. I'll send for him at once." - -Mrs. Walraven rose, sought out her blotting-book, took a sheet of paper -and an envelope, and scrawled two or three words to her cousin: - -"DEAR GUY,--Come to me at once. I wish to see you most particularly. -Don't lose a moment. - -"Very truly, - -"BLANCHE." - -Ringing the bell, Mrs. Walraven dispatched this little missive, and -then, reclining easily in the downy depths of her violet velvet -_fauteuil_, she fell into a reverie that lasted for upward of an hour. -With sleepy, slow, half-closed eyes, the wicked, smile just curving the -ripe-red mouth, Mme. Blanche wandered in the land of meditation, and had -her little plot all cut and dry as the toy Swiss clock on the low mantel -struck up a lively waltz preparatory to striking eleven. Ere the last -silvery chime had ceased vibrating, the door of the boudoir opened and -Dr. Guy Oleander walked in. - -"Good-morning, Mrs. Walraven," said the toxicologist, briskly. "You -sent for me. What's the matter?" - -He took off his tall hat, set it on a sofa, threw his gloves into it, -and indulged in a prolonged professional stare at his fair relative. - -"Nothing very serious, I imagine. You're the picture of handsome health. -Really, Blanche, the Walraven air seems to agree with you. You grow -fresher, and brighter, and plumper, and better-looking every day." - -"I didn't send for you to pay compliments, Doctor Oleander," said Mrs. -Walraven, smiling graciously, all the same. "See if that door is shut -fast, please, and come and sit here beside me. I've something very -serious to say to you." - -Dr. Oleander did as directed, and took a seat beside the lady. - -"Your husband won't happen in, will he, Blanche? Because he might be -jealous, you know, at this close proximity; and your black-a-vised men -of unknown antecedents are generally the very dickens when they fall a -prey to the green-eyed monster." - -"Pshaw! are you not my cousin and my medical adviser? Don't be absurd, -Guy. Mr. Walraven troubles himself very little about me, one way or -other. I might hold a levee of my gentlemen friends here, week in and -week out, for all he would know or care." - -"Ah! post-nuptial bliss. I thought marriage, in his case, would be a -safe antidote for love. All right, Blanche. Push ahead. What's your -business? Time is precious this morning. Hosts of patients on hand, and -an interesting case of leprosy up at Bellevue." - -"I don't want to know your medical horrors," said Mrs. Walraven, with a -shudder of disgust; "and I think you will throw over your patients when -you hear the subject I want to talk about. That subject is--Mollie Dane!" - -"Mollie!" The doctor was absorbed and vividly interested all at once. -"What of Mollie Dane?" - -"This," lowering her voice: "I have found out the grand secret. I know -where that mysterious fortnight was spent." - -"Blanche!" He leaned forward, almost breathless. "Have you? Where?" - -"You'd never guess. It sounds too romantic--too incredible--for belief. -Even the hackneyed truism, 'Truth is stranger than fiction,' will hardly -suffice to conquer one's astonishment--yet true it is. Do you recollect -the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh's story at the dinner-party, the other -day--that incredible tale of his abduction and the mysterious marriage -of the two masks?" - -"I recollect--yes." - -"He spoke of the bride, you remember--described her as small and -slender, with a profusion of fair, curling hair." - -"Yes--yes--yes!" - -"Guy," fixing her powerful black eyes on his face, "do you need to be -told who that masked bride was?" - -"Mollie Dane!" cried the doctor, impetuously. - -"Mollie Dane," said Mrs. Walraven, calmly. - -"By Jove!" - -Dr. Oleander sat for a instant perfectly aghast. - -"I only wonder it did not strike you at the time. It struck me, and I -whispered my suspicion in her ear as we passed into the drawing-room. -But she is a perfect actress. Neither start nor look betrayed her. She -stared at me with those insolent blue eyes of hers, as though she could -not possibly comprehend." - -"Perhaps she could not." - -Mrs. Walraven looked at him with a quiet smile--the smile of conscious -triumph. - -"She is the cleverest actress I ever saw off the stage--so clever that -I am sometimes inclined to suspect she may have been once on it. No, my -dear Guy, she understood perfectly well. Mollie Dane was the -extraordinary bride Mr. Rashleigh married that extraordinary night." - -"And who the devil," cried Dr. Guy, using powerful language in his -excitement, "was the birdegroom?" - -"Ah!" said Blanche, "there's the rub! Mr. Rashleigh doesn't know, and I -don't know, and Mollie doesn't know herself." - -"What!" - -"My dear Doctor Oleander, your eyes will start from your head if you -stare after that fashion. No; Mollie doesn't know. She is married; but to -whom she has no more idea than you have. Does it not sound incredible?" - -"Sound? It is incredible--impossible--absurd!" - -"Precisely. It is an accomplished fact, all the same." - -"Blanche, for Heaven's sake, explain!" exclaimed the young man, -impatiently. "What the foul fiend do you mean? I never heard such a -cock-and-bull story in all my life!" - -"Nor I. But it is true, nevertheless. Listen: On the night following the -dinner-party I did the meanest action of my life. I played eavesdropper. -I listened at Mollie's door. All for your sake, my dear Guy." - -"Yes?" said Guy, with an incredulous smile. - -"I listened," pursued Mrs. Blanche, "and I overheard the strangest -confession ever made, I believe--Mollie Dane relating the adventures of -that hidden fortnight, at midnight, to that singular creature, Miriam." - -"Miriam! Who is she?" - -"Oh! you remember--the woman who tried to stop my marriage. Mollie -quieted her on that occasion, and they had a private talk." - -"Yes, yes! I remember. Go on. How did Miriam come to be with Mollie, and -who the mischief is Miriam?" - -"Her aunt." - -"Her aunt?" - -"Her mother's sister--yes. Her mother's name was Dane. Who that mother -was," said Mrs. Walraven, with spiteful emphasis, "I fancy Mr. Walraven -could tell you." - -"Ah!" said her cousin, with a side-long glance, "I shouldn't wonder. I'll -not ask him, however. Proceed." - -"I took to reading a novel after I came home," proceeded Mrs. Walraven, -"and my husband went to bed. I remained with my book in the drawing-room, -very much interested, until nearly midnight. I fancied all in the house -had retired; therefore, when I heard a soft rustling of silk swishing -past the drawing-room door, I was considerably surprised. An instant -later, and the house door was softly unfastened. I turned the handle -noiselessly and peeped out. There, in her pink dinner toilet, jewels and -all, was Miss Dane, stealing upstairs, and following her, this wretched, -ragged creature, Miriam." - -"Well?" said the doctor. - -"Well, I followed. They entered Miss Dane's chamber and closed the door. -The temptation was strong, the spirit willing, and the flesh weak. I -crouched at the key-hole and listened. It was a very long -conversation--it was fully three o'clock before Miriam departed--but it -held me spell-bound with its interest from beginning to end. Once I was -nearly caught--I sneezed. I vanished behind a big cabinet, and just -saved myself, for they opened the door. Mollie set it down to the wind, -or the rats, closed the door again, and my curiosity overcoming my fear -of detection, I crept back and heard every word." - -"Well?" again said the doctor. - -"Well, Mollie made a clean breast of it. On her wedding-night she was -enticed from the house by a letter purporting to come from this Miriam. -The letter told her that Miriam was dying, and that she wished to make a -revelation of her parentage to Mollie, before she departed for a worse -land. It seems she knows Miss Dane's antecedents, and Miss Dane doesn't. -Mollie went at once, as the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh did, and, like -him, was blindfolded and bound, borne away to some unknown house, nobody -knows where, waited on by the girl who carried the letter, and held a -fast prisoner by a man in a black mask. That man's face Mollie never -saw, nor has she the least idea of whom it may be. She is inclined to -suspect you." - -"Me!" - -The doctor's stare of astonishment was a sight to behold. - -"It is you, or Sardonyx, or Ingelow--one of you three, Mollie is -certain. The particular one she can't decide. She dreads it may be -either the lawyer or the doctor, and hopes, with all her heart, it may -be the artist." - -Dr. Oleander's swarthy brows knit with a midnight scowl. - -"She is in love with this puppy, Ingelow. I have thought as much for -some time." - -"Hopelessly in love with him, and perfectly willing to be his wife, if -he proves to be her husband. Should it chance to be you, she will -administer a dose of strychnine the first available opportunity." - -"She said that, did she?" - -"That, and much more. She hates, detests, and abhors you, and loves the -handsome artist with all her heart." - -"The little jade! And how about her elderly admirer?" - -"Sir Roger? Oh! he is to get the go-by. 'Men have died, and worms have -eaten them, but not for love.' He will stand the blow. 'All for love, -and the world well lost,' is to be her motto for the future. She is in -love with Hugh, and Hugh she must have. The spoiled baby is tired of all -its old toys, and wants a new one." - -"And she married this masked man, and never saw him? That is odd." - -"The whole affair is excessively odd. You know how impatient she -naturally is. She grew desperate in her confinement in a few days, and -was ready to sell her birthright for a mess of pottage--ready to -sacrifice her freedom in one way for her freedom in another. She had the -man's promise that he would return her to her friends a week after she -became his wife. She married him, and he kept his promise." - -"And he never let her see his face?" - -"Never! and she can not even suspect who it is. He wore a long, -disguising cloak that concealed his figure, false beard and hair, and -spoke only French. But she hopes it may be Hugh Ingelow. What do you -think?" - -"That is not Hugh Ingelow. The fellow hasn't energy enough to entrap a -fly." - -"Sardonyx, then?" - -"Sardonyx is too cautious. He knows too much of the law to run his head -into the lion's jaws. Besides, it is too absurdly romantic for so -practical a man. No, it is not Sardonyx." - -"Yourself, then?" - -The doctor laughed. - -"Nonsense, Blanche! Mollie is out of her reckoning about us three. By -the bye, I see now through those queer advertisements that have appeared -in the 'Herald' of late. Black Mask--White Mask." - -"Yes; Mollie wants to find out whom she has espoused. By Miriam's -advice, she inserted that first advertisement to Black Mask. He, as you -perceive, replies in to-day's edition." - -"And she is to meet him to-morrow night." - -"Exactly; and will, unless you forestall him." - -"How?" - -"Don't be stupid, pray. What is to hinder you from being at the place of -rendezvous first and playing Black Mask?" - -"I beg your pardon; I am stupid still. Black Mask will be there -himself." - -"Look here: ten is the hour. Toward evening I will advance every -time-piece in the house, Mollie's watch included, half an hour. She -will be at the place of tryst at half past nine. Be you there, -likewise--cloaked, bearded, bewigged. Have a carriage in waiting. -Make her think you are Hugh Ingelow, and she will enter it without -hesitation. Speak French. She will not recognize your voice. Once in the -carriage, carry her off." - -"Where?" asked the doctor, astonished at the rapidity of all this. - -"To Long Island--to the farm. She will be as safe there as in Sing Sing. -Make her think you are her unknown husband. It will be easily done, for -she half thinks it now. Only--look out for the strychnine!" - -The doctor rose to his feet, his sallow face flushed, his small black -eyes sparkling. - -"By Jove! Blanche, what a plotter you are! I'll do it, as sure as my -name's Guy. I love the little witch to madness, and I owe her one for -the way she jilted me. I'll do it, by thunder!" - -"Very well," said Mrs. Walraven, quietly. "Don't get excited, and don't -make a noise. I knew you would." - -"But what will the old lady say?" - -"Who cares for the old lady?" retorted Mme. Blanche, contemptuously. -"Not you, I hope. Tell her it's an insane patient you have brought to -her for quiet and sea air. Judy is a regular dragon, and the old woman -is as keen as a ferret and as sly as a female fox. Mollie won't escape -from them. She may yield, if she really is convinced you are her -husband. Tell her you love her to distraction--can't live without her, -and so on. She may yield. Who knows? These girls are bundles of -inconsistencies, and Mollie Dane the most inconsistent of the tribe. -Have the ceremony performed over again before witnesses, and bring her -back here in a month--Mrs. Guy Oleander! Even if she won't consent from -pity for your state, she may to escape from that dreary Long Island -farm. She did once before, you know, and may again. That is all I have -to suggest, Guy. The rest is with yourself. In the vocabulary of great -men, there is no such word as fail." - -She rose up. Dr. Oleander grasped her hand in an outburst of -enthusiastic gratitude. - -"Blanche, you're a brick--a trump--a jewel beyond price! I don't know -how to thank you. You're a woman of genius--a wife for a Talleyrand!" - -"Thanks. Let me be able to return the compliment. I ask no more. Let me -see how cleverly you will carry off pretty Mollie. I never want to see -her under this roof again." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -THE SPIDER AND THE FLY. - - -The April day had been very long, and very, very dull in the handsome -Walraven Fifth Avenue palace. Long and lamentable, as the warning cry -of the banshee, wailed the dreary blast. Ceaselessly, dismally beat the -rain against the glass. The icy breath of the frozen North was in the -wind, curdling your blood and turning your skin to goose-flesh; and the -sky was of lead, and the streets were slippery and sloppy, and the New -York pavements altogether a delusion and a snare. - -All through this bad, black April day, Mollie Dane had wandered through -the house, upstairs and down-stairs, like an uneasy ghost. - -Some evil spirit of unrest surely possessed her. She could settle -nowhere. She threw herself on a sofa in her pretty bedroom, and tried -to beguile the forlorn hours with the latest novel, in vain. She yawned -horribly over the pages and flung it from her in disgust. - -She wandered down to the drawing-room and tried the grand piano, whose -tones were as the music of the spheres. Still in vain. The listless -fingers fell aimlessly on the ivory keys. - -She strove to sleep, but the nervous restlessness that possessed her -only drove her to the verge of feverish madness in the effort. The girl -was possessed of a waking nightmare not to be shaken off. - -"What is it?" cried Mollie, impatiently, to herself. "What the -mischief's the matter with me? I never felt like this before. It can't -be remorse for some unacted crime, I never committed murder that I know -of. It can't be dyspepsia, for I've got the digestive powers of an -anaconda. It can't be the weather, for I've struggled through one or two -other rainy days in my life-time; and it can't be anxiety for to-night -to come, for I'm not apt to get into a gale about trifles. Perhaps it's -a presentiment of evil to come. I've heard of such things. It's either -that or a fit of the blue-devils!" - -The long, wet, windy day wore on. Mr. Walraven slept through it -comfortably in his study. Mrs. Walraven had a _tête-à-tête_ luncheon -with her cousin, the doctor, and dawdled the slow hours away over her -tricot and fashion magazines. - -Old Mme. Walraven rarely left her own apartments of late days. -Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law detested each other with an intensity -not common even in that relationship. How she ever killed time was a -mystery unknown. Mollie good-naturedly devoted a couple of her precious -daily hours to her. The house was as still as a tomb. Downstairs, -Messrs. Johnson and Wilson, Mr. Coachman, Mme. Cook and Mlle. -Chambermaid may have enjoyed themselves in one another's society, but -above the kitchen cabinet all was forlorn and forsaken. - -"Awfully slow, all this!" said Miss Dane to herself, with a fearful -yawn. "I'll die of stagnation if this sort of thing keeps on. Mariana, -howling in the Moated Grange, must have felt a good deal as I do just at -present--a trifle worse, maybe, for I don't wish I were dead altogether. -The Tombs is gay and festive compared to Fifth Avenue on a rainy day. I -wish I were back playing Fanchon the Cricket, free and happy once more, -wearing spangles as Ophelia of Denmark, and a gilt paper crown as -Cleopatra of Egypt, I wasn't married then; and I didn't go moping -about, like an old hen with the distemper, every time it was wet and -nasty. If it keeps on like this I shall have a pretty time of it getting -to Fourteenth Street, at ten o'clock to-night. And I'll surely go, if it -were to rain cats, dogs, and pitchforks!" - -She stood drearily at the drawing-room window, looking forlornly out at -the empty street. - -The eerie twilight was falling, rain and wind rising and falling with -it, the street lamps twinkling ghostily through the murky gloaming, the -pavement black and shining. Belated pedestrians hurried along with bowed -heads and uplifted umbrellas, the stages rattled past in a ceaseless -stream, full to overflowing. The rainy night was settling down, the -storm increasing as the darkness came on. Mollie surveyed all this -disconsolately enough. - -"I don't mind a ducking," she murmured, plaintively, "and I never take -cold; but I don't want that man to see me looking like a drowned rat. -Oh, if it should turn out to be Hugh--dear, dear Hugh!" Her face lighted -rapturously at the thought. "I never knew how much I loved him until I -lost him. If it isn't Hugh, and Hugh asks me to run away with him -to-morrow, I'll do it--I declare I will--and the others may go to -grass!" - -At that moment, voices sounded on the stairs--the voices of Mrs. -Walraven and her cousin. - -The drawing-room door was ajar, Mollie's little figure hidden in the -amber drapery of the window, and she could see them plainly, without -herself being seen. - -"You won't fail?" Mrs. Walraven said, impressively. "I will do my part. -Are you equal to yours?" - -"I never fail where I mean to succeed," answered Dr. Guy, with equal -emphasis. "Sooner or later, I triumph! I shall triumph now! 'All things -are possible to him who knows how to wait.' I have waited, and this -night gives me my reward." - -The house door closed after the young man. Mrs. Walraven peeped into the -drawing-room, never seeing the slender figure amid the voluminous golden -damask, and then reascended the stairs. Mollie was again in silence and -solitude. - -"Now, what are those two up to, I should like to know?" soliloquized the -young lady. "Some piece of atrocious mischief, I'll be bound! He looks -like the Miltonic Lucifer sometimes, that man, only not one half so -good-looking; but there is a snakish, treacherous, cold-blooded glare -in his greenish-black eyes that makes me think of the arch-tempter; and -some people have the bad taste to call him handsome." - -The twilight had ended in darkness by this time. Mollie put her hand to -her belt to find her watch, but it was not there. - -"I have left it on my dressing-table," she thought, moving away. "I will -have a cup of tea in my room this evening, and let guardy and Madame -Blanche dine together. I wish it were time to start. I abominably hate -waiting." - -Mollie found her watch on the table, and was rather surprised to see it -past eight. - -"I had no idea it was so late," she said to herself. "I shall leave here -at half past nine. There is nothing like keeping tryst in season." - -She rang for Lucy, ordered a little supper in her room, and then -dismissed the maid. - -"I shan't want you again to-night, Lucy," she said. "You can go out, if -you like, and see your mother." - -Lucy tripped away, right well pleased, and Mollie dawdled the time over -her supper and a book. - -Half past nine came very soon. - -"Time to get ready," thought Mollie, starting up. "Dear, dear! it's -highly romantic and highly sensational, this nocturnal appointment with -a masked man, and that man one's mysterious husband. I can't say much -for the place; there's precious little romance around the Maison Dorée. -Does it still rain, I wonder?" - -She opened the blind and looked out. Yes, it still rained; it still blew -in long, shuddering gusts; the low-lying sky was inky black; athwart the -darkness flashed the murky street lamps. - -Mollie dropped the curtain, with a little shiver. - -"'The night is cold, and dark, and dreary, -It rains, and the wind is never weary.' - -It's a horrible night to be abroad, but I'll keep my word, if I drown -for it!" - -She hunted up the long water-proof mantle she had worn the night of her -abduction, drew the hood far over her head and face, wrapped it around -her, opened the window, and resolutely stepped out on the piazza. - -She paused an instant--a blinding rush of wind and rain almost took her -off her feet; the next, the brave little heroine was flitting along the -slippery piazza, down the stairs, out of the wicket gate and into the -black, shining street. - -Away sped Mollie--swift as a little, wingless Mercury--down the avenue, -through Union Square, to the place of tryst. - -She expected every moment to hear the city clocks chime ten, but she -reached Broadway without hearing them. Little wonder, when it was but -half past nine. - -Drenched through, blown about, breathless, panting, almost scared at -the dreary forlornness of the deserted streets, the adventurous little -damsel reached the place of tryst. - -Was she too soon? Surely not. There stood a cab, drawn close to the -curbstone, and there, in the shadow of the cab, stood a tall man in a -cloak, evidently waiting. - -The lamps of the carriage shone upon him, but the cloak collar was so -turned up, the slouched hat so pulled down, such a quantity of dark -beard between, that nothing was visible of the face whatever. - -Mollie paused, altogether exhausted; the man advanced a step out of the -shadow. - -"White Mask?" he asked, in a cautious whisper. - -"Black Mask!" responded Mollie, promptly. - -"All right, then!" replied the man, speaking in French, and speaking -rapidly. "It's impossible to stand here in the rain and talk. I have -brought a carriage--let me assist you in." - -But Mollie shrunk back. Some nameless thrill of terror suddenly made her -dread the man. - -"You must--you must!" cried the man, in an impetuous whisper. "We can -not stand here in this down-pour. Don't you see it is impossible? And -the first policeman who comes along will be walking us off to the -station-house." - -He caught her arm and half led her to the carriage. Shrinking -instinctively, yet hardly knowing what to do, she found herself in it, -and seated, before she quite knew it. - -He sprung after her, closed the door, the carriage started at once at -a great pace, and the poor little fly was fairly caught in the spider's -web. - -"I don't like this," said Mollie, decisively. "I had no idea of entering -a carriage when I appointed this meeting. Where are you taking me to?" - -"There is no need to be alarmed, pretty Mollie," said the man, still -speaking French. "I have given the coachman orders to rattle along -through the streets. We can talk here at our leisure, and as long as we -please. You must perceive the utter impossibility of conversation at a -street corner and in a down-pour of rain." - -Mollie did, but she fidgeted in her seat, and felt particularly -uncomfortable, all the same. Now that it was too late, she began to -think she had acted unwisely in appointing this meeting. - -"Why didn't I let well enough alone?" thought the young lady. "At a -distance, it seemed the easiest thing in the world; now that I am in -the man's power, I am afraid of him, more so than I ever was before." - -The man had taken his seat beside her. At this juncture he put his arm -around her waist. - -"Why can't we be comfortable and affectionate, as man and wife -should--eh, Mollie? You don't know how much obliged to you I am for -this interview." - -There was a ring of triumph in his tone that Mollie could not fail to -perceive. Her heart gave a great jump of terror, but she angrily flung -herself out of his arm. - -"Keep your distance, sir! How dare you? You sing quite a new song since -I saw you last! Don't you lay a finger on me, or I'll--" - -"What, pretty Cricket?" with a sardonic laugh. - -Mollie caught her breath. That name, that tone--both were altogether new -in the unknown man. - -The sound of the voice, now that he spoke French, was quite unlike that -of the man she had come to meet. And he was not wont to call her -Cricket. - -Had she made some horrible mistake--been caught in some dreadful trap? -But, no; that was impossible. - -"Look here, Mr. Mask," said Mollie, fiercely, "I don't want any of -your familiarity, and I trust to your honor to respect my unprotected -situation. I appointed this meeting because you kept your word, and -behaved with tolerable decency when we last parted. I want to end this -matter. I want to know who you are." - -"My precious Mollie, your husband!" - -"But who are you?" - -"One of your rejected suitors." - -"But which of them?--there were so many." - -"The one who loved you best." - -"Pshaw! I don't want trifling! What is your name?" - -"Ernest." - -"I never had a lover of that name," said Mollie, decidedly. "You are -only mocking me. Are you--are you--Hugh Ingelow?" - -Her voice shook a little. The man by her side noted it, and burst into -a derisive laugh. - -"You are not Hugh Ingelow!" Mollie cried in a voice of sharp, sudden -pain--"you are not!" - -"And you are sorry, pretty Mollie? Why, that's odd, too! He was a -rejected lover, was he not?" - -"Let me out!" exclaimed the girl, frantically--"let me go! I thought you -were Hugh Ingelow, or I never would have come! Let me out! Let me out!" - -She made a rush at the door, with a shrill cry of affright. A sudden -panic had seized her--a horrible dread of the man beside her--a stunning -sense that it was not the man she loved. - -Again that strident laugh--mocking, sardonic, triumphant--rang through -the carriage. Her arms were caught and held as in a vise. - -"Not so fast, my fair one; there is no escape: I can't live without -you, and I see no reason why a man should live without his wife. You -appointed this meeting yourself, and I'm excessively obliged to you. I -am taking you to the sea-side to spend the honey-moon. Don't struggle -so--we'll return to New York by and by. As for Hugh Ingelow, you mustn't -think of him now; it isn't proper in a respectable married woman to know -there is another man in the scheme of the universe except her husband. -Mollie! Mollie! if you scream in that manner you'll compel me to resort -to chloroform--a vulgar alternative, my dearest." - -But Mollie struggled like a mad thing, and screamed--wild, shrill, -womanly shrieks that rang out even above the rattle and roll of the -carriage wheels. - -The man, with an oath, placed his hand tightly over her mouth. They were -going at a frightful pace, and already the city, with its lights and -passengers, was left far behind. They were flying over a dark, wet road, -and the wind roared through distant trees, and the rain fell down like a -second deluge. - -"Let me go--let me go!" Mollie strove madly to cry, but the tightening -grasp of that large hand suffocated her. - -The carriage seemed suddenly to reel, a thousand lights flashed before -her eyes, a roar like the roar of many waters surged in her ears, a -deathly sickness and coldness crept over her, and with a gasping sob she -slipped back, fainting away for the first time in her life. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE MAN IN THE MASK. - - -Dizzily Mollie opened her eyes. Confused, bewildered, she strove to sit -up and catch her breath in broken gasps. - -"So sorry, Mollie," said an odious voice in her ear. "Quite shocked, I -am sure, to have you faint; but you've not been insensible half an hour. -It wasn't my fault, you know. You would scream, you would struggle, you -would exhaust yourself! And what is the consequence of all this -excitement? Why, you pop over in a dead swoon." - -Mollie raised herself up, still dazed and confused. She put her hand to -her forehead and strove to recall her drifting senses. - -They were still bowling along at a sharp pace over a muddy country road; -still fell the rain; still howled the wind; still pitch darkness wrapped -all without. Were they going on forever? Was it a reality or a horrible -nightmare? - -"We are almost at our journey's end," said the man, soothingly. "Come, -cheer up, Cricket. I love you, and I won't hurt a hair of your head." - -"Where are we?" Mollie faintly asked. - -"Rattling over a beastly country road," answered her companion, "under -a sky as black as Erebus, and in a down-pour that threatens a second -flood. There's the sea. We're down by the sad sea waves now, Mollie." - -Mollie listened. Above the roar of the elemental strife she could hear -the deep and mighty bass of the roaring sea. - -"We will be there in ten minutes more," said the man, briskly. - -"Where is there?" inquired Mollie, in the same faint accent. - -"Home, my pretty wife--our cottage by the sea, and all that, you know. -Don't droop, my charming Cricket. We'll be as happy together as the days -are long. I love you with all my soul--I swear it by all that's good and -gracious; and I'll make you the best husband ever bright-eyed little -girl had. Trust me, Mollie, and cheer up. Yoicks! Here we are." - -The carriage stopped with a jerk that precipitated Mollie into her -captor's arms; but, with an angry push, she was free again directly. - -The man opened the door and sprung out. Wind howling, rain tailing, -trees surging, sea roaring, and a big dog barking, made the black night -hideous. - -"Down, Tiger! Down, you big, noisy brute!" cried the man. "Here, Mollie, -let me help you out." - -There was no escape--Mollie let him. The salt breath of the sea blew in -her face--its awful thunder on the shore drowned all lesser noises. - -Through the blackness of the black night she could see the blacker -outline of a house, from one or two windows of which faint lights -shone. Tossing trees surrounded it--a high board fence and a tall, -padlocked gate inclosed it. - -"All right, Mollie," the man said. "This is home!" - -He drew her arm within his and hurried her up a long, graveled path, -under dripping, tossing trees. - -The storm of wind and rain nearly beat the breath out of the girl's -body, and she was glad when the shelter of a great front porch was -gained. - -"I hope you're not very wet, my little wife," said the man: "because I -don't know as there is a change of garments in this establishment that -will fit you. However, as you will retire directly, it doesn't so much -matter." - -He knocked with his knuckles a thundering reveille that echoed and -re-echoed ghostily through the rumbling old house. In a moment there was -a shuffling of footsteps inside, a rattling of a chain, and the noisy -undoing of rusty bolts. - -"Who's there?" asked a cracked old voice. "Is it the young master?" - -"Yes, you old idiot! Didn't I send you word? Open the door at once, and -be hanged to you!" - -A key turned gratingly in the ponderous lock--bolts and chains fell, and -the massive door swung back on creaky old hinges. - -"Like an ancient castle in a story book," thought Mollie, in the midst -of her trouble. "Where in the wide world am I? Oh, what an unfortunate -little wretch I am! A stolen princess couldn't be abducted and -imprisoned oftener." - -The opening of the door showed a long, black, gloomy entrance -hall--bare, bleak and draughty. Two people stood there--a grizzly old -man, stooping, and bleared, and wrinkled, who had opened the door, and -a grizzly old woman, just a shade less stooping, and bleared, and -wrinkled, who held a sputtering tallow candle aloft. - -"How are you, Peter? How are you, Sally?" said Mollie's conductor, -nodding familiarly to these two antediluvians. "Is the room ready? -Here's the lady." - -He drew Mollie, whose arm he retained in a close grasp, a little closer -to him, and Mollie noticed that, for some reason, the ancient pair -shrunk back, and looked as though they were a little afraid of her. - -"The room's all ready," said the old woman, with a pair of glittering -little eyes fixed, as if fascinated, on Mollie's pretty face. "The -missis and me's been a-tidying of it all day long. Poor creeter! so -young and so pretty! What a pity!" - -This last was _sotto voce_, but Mollie's quick ear caught it. She looked -up at her conductor, but cloak and hat and whiskers disguised him as -effectually as the mask had done on other occasions. She looked back at -the old woman and held out her supplicating hands. - -"My good woman, whoever you are, if you have a woman's heart, take pity -on me. I have been brought here against my will by this man." - -"Ah, poor creeter!" sighed the old woman, shaking her grizzly old head; -"as if I didn't know that. Poor little creeter!" - -"Help me!" Mollie cried. "Don't aid this man to keep me here. I don't -know who he is--I have been wickedly entrapped. I am a little, helpless -girl, but I have rich and powerful friends who will liberally reward -you. Don't help this, bad, bold man to keep me a prisoner here." - -"Ah, poor creeter!" sighed the old woman, plaintively, a second time; -"only hear her talk now. And such a pretty little thing, too! Dear, -dear! It goes to one's heart. Don't keep her standing in them wet -clothes, sir. Come upstairs. Such a pity, such a pity!" - -She hobbled away, muttering to herself and shaking her head. The -disguised man laughed--a low, deriding laugh. - -"You see, my dear little Mollie, you'll get any amount of pity, but -nothing else. Old Sally will be very sincerely sorry for you, but she -won't help you to escape. On the contrary, she'll keep you under lock -and key as faithfully as though you were the Koh-i-noor. Come in, you -may take cold in this nasty, draughty passage." - -He drew her with him. Mollie seemed in a sort of dreamy swoon, and went -passively. They ascended the stairs into another dark and draughty hall, -flanked on either side by a couple of doors. One of these the old dame -opened, and quite a new picture burst on Mollie's sight. - -The apartment was not at all like the mysterious padded room of former -experience; the four bare walls were plastered and blankly bare; the -boarded floor was strewn with rags; the two big square windows were -draped with paper-blinds. A huge fire of logs, such as Mollie had never -beheld in her life before, roared gloriously in the old-fashioned -fire-place, and lighted the room with a lurid glow. A four-post -bedstead, the bed covered with a gaudy patch-work or counterpane, stood -in one corner, a table with a white cloth stood in another, a chest of -drawers in a third, and the door by which they entered in the fourth. -This was Mollie's new prison. - -"Elegant simplicity," observed the man, leading her in; "but we will -do our best to make you comfortable during your stay. It need not be -long--you know it depends on yourself, Mollie." - -"On myself?" - -She turned her pale face and angry, eyes upon him. - -"I am your husband by a secret marriage, you know. Let that marriage be -solemnized over again in public--no one need know of the other: consent -to be my wife openly and above-board, and your prison doors will fly -open that hour." - -"In Heaven's name, who are you?" cried Mollie, impatiently. "End this -ridiculous farce--remove that disguise--let me see who I am speaking to. -This melodramatic absurdity has gone on long enough--the play is played -out. Talk to me, face to face, like a man, if you dare!" - -Her eyes blazed, her voice rose. The old woman looked from one to the -other, "far wide" but in evident curiosity. The man had persisted in -speaking to her in French, and Mollie had answered him in that language. - -"Be it as you say!" cried her captor, suddenly; "only remember, Mollie, -whether I am the person you prefer to see under this disguise or not, I -am nevertheless your husband as fast as the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh -can tie the knot. You shall know who I am, since it is only a question -of to-night or to-morrow at the most. Sally, you can go." - -Sally looked from one to the other with sharp, suspicious old eyes. - -"Won't the young lady want me, sir? Is she able to 'tend to herself?" - -"Quite able, Sally; she's not so bad as you think. Go away, like a good -soul. I have a soothing draught to administer to my patient." - -"Your patient!" said Mollie, turning the flashing light of her great -blue eyes full upon him. - -The man laughed. - -"I had to invent a little fable for these good people. Didn't you notice -they looked rather afraid of you? Of course you did. Well, my dear -Mollie, they think you're mad." - -"Mad?" - -"Exactly. You are, a little, you know. They think you've come here under -medical orders to recruit by the sea-shore. I told them so. One hate's -to tell lies, but, unfortunately, white ones are indispensable at -times." - -The blue eyes shone full upon him, blazing with magnificent disdain. - -"You are a poorer creature than even I took you to be, and you have -acted a mean and dastardly part from the first--the part of a schemer -and a coward. Pray, let me see the face of our modern Knight of -Romance." - -Old Sally had hobbled from the room and they stood alone, half the width -of the apartment between them. - -"Hard words, my pretty one! You forget it was all for love of you. -I didn't want to see you the wife of an old dotard you didn't care -a fillip for." - -"So, to mend matters, you've made me the wife of a scoundrel. I must -forever hate and despise--yourself." - -"Not so, Mollie! I mean you to be very fond of me one of these days. I -don't see why you shouldn't. I'm young; I'm well off; I'm clever; I'm -not bad-looking. There's no reason why you shouldn't be very fond of me, -indeed. Love begets love, they say, and I love you to madness." - -"So it appears. A lunatic asylum would be the fitter place for you, if -you must escape state prison. Are we to stand here and bandy words all -night? Show me who you are and go." - -The man laid his hand on his hat. - -"Have you no suspicions, Mollie? Can't you meet me half-way--can't you -guess?" - -"I don't want to guess." - -She spoke defiantly; but her heart was going in great, suffocating -plunges against her side, now that the supreme moment had come. - -"Then, Mollie, behold your husband!" - -With a theatrical flourish he whipped off slouched hat, flowing beard -and wig, dropped the disguising cloak, and stood before her -revealed--Dr. Guy Oleander! - -She gave one gasping cry, no more. She stood looking at him as if -turning to stone, her face marble white--awfully rigid--her eyes -starting from their sockets. The man's face was lighted with a sinister, -triumphant glow. - -"Look long, Mollie," he said, exultantly, "and look well. You see your -husband for the first time." - -And then Mollie caught her gasping breath at the taunt, and the blood -rushed in a dark, red torrent of rage and shame to her fair face. - -"Never!" she cried, raising her arm aloft--"never, so help me Heaven! I -will sit in this prison and starve to death! I will throw myself out of -yonder window into the black, boiling sea! I would be torn to pieces by -wild horses! I will die ten thousand deaths, but I will never, never, -never be wife of yours, Guy Oleander!" - -Her voice rose to a shriek--hysterical, frenzied. For the instant she -felt as though she were going mad, and she looked it, and the man -recoiled before her. - -"Mollie!" he gasped, in consternation. - -The girl stamped her foot on the floor. - -"Don't call me Mollie:" she screamed, passionately. "Don't dare to speak -to me, to look at me, to come near me! I have heard of women murdering -men, and if I had a loaded pistol this moment, God help you, Doctor -Oleander!" - -She looked like a mad thing--like a crazed pythoness. Her wild, fair -hair fell loose about her; her blue eyes blazed steely flame; her face -was crimson with the intensity of her rage, and shame, and despair, from -forehead to chin. - -"Go!" she cried, fiercely, "you snake, you coward, you felon, you -abductor of feeble girls, you poisoner! Yes, you poison the very air I -breathe! Go, or, by all that is holy, I will spring at your throat and -strangle you with my bare hands!" - -"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the petrified doctor, retreating precipitately, -"what a little devil it is! Mollie, Mollie, for pity's sake--" - -Another furious stamp, a spring like a wild cat toward him, and the -aghast doctor was at the door. - -"There, there, there, Mollie! I'm going. By Jove! what a little fiend -you are! I didn't think you would take it like this. I--Great powers! -Yes, I'm going!" - -He flew out, closing the door with a bang. Then he opened it an inch and -peeped in. - -"I'll come again to-morrow, Mollie. Try, for goodness' sake, to calm -yourself in the meantime. Yes, yes, yes, I'm going!" - -For, with a shriek of madness, she made a spring at him, and the doctor -just managed to slam the door and turn the key before her little, wiry -hands were upon his throat. - -"Great Heaven!" Dr. Oleander cried to himself, pale and aghast, wiping -the cold perspiration off his face; "was ever such a mad creature born -on the earth before? She looked like a little yellow-haired demon, -glaring upon me with those blazing eyes. Little tiger-cat! I told them -she was a raving lunatic, and, by George! she's going to prove me a -prophet. It's enough to make a man's blood run cold." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -MOLLIE'S DESPAIR. - - -Dr. Oleander descended the stairs, passed through the lower hall, and -entered the kitchen--a big, square room, bleak and draughty, like all -the rest of the old, rickety place, but lighted by a roaring fire. - -Old Sally was bustling about over pots and stew-pans, getting supper; -old Peter stood at the table peeling potatoes. In an arm-chair before -the fire sat another old woman with snaky-black eyes, hooked nose, and -incipient black mustache. - -Old Sally was volubly narrating what had transpired upstairs, and cut -herself short upon the entrance of her master. - -"How are you, mother?" said Dr. Oleander, nodding to the venerable party -in the arm-chair. "Sally's telling you about my patient, is she?" - -His mother's answer was a stifled scream, which Sally echoed. - -"Well, what now?" demanded the doctor. - -"You look like a ghost! Gracious me, Guy!" cried his mother, in -consternation; "you're whiter than the tablecloth." - -Dr. Oleander ground out an oath. - -"I dare say I am. I've just had a scare from that little, crazy imp that -would blanch any man. I thought, in my soul, she was going to spring -upon me like a panther and choke me. She would have, too, by Jove, if -I hadn't cleared out." - -"Lor'!" cried Sally, in consternation, "and I've just been a-telling the -missis how sweet, and gentle, and innocent, and pretty she looked." - -"Innocent and gentle be--hanged!" growled the doctor. "She's the old -Satan in female form. If you don't look out, Sally, she'll throttle you -to-morrow when you go in." - -Sally gave a little yelp of dismay. - -"Lor' a massy, Master Guy! then I'll not go near her. I ain't a-going -to be scared out of my senses by mad-women in my old age. I won't go -into her room a step to-morrow, Master Guy. If you wants to turn honest -people's houses into lunatic asylums, then set lunatic-keepers to see -after them. I shan't do it, and so I tell you." - -With which short and sharp ultimatum Sally began vigorously laying the -cloth for supper. - -Before Dr. Oleander could open his mouth to expostulate, his mother -struck in: - -"I really don't think it's safe to live in the house with such a violent -lunatic, Guy. I wish you had taken your crazy patient elsewhere." - -"Oh, it's all right, mother. She's only subject to these noisy fits at -periodical times. On certain occasions she appears and talks as sanely -as you or I. Sally can tell you." - -"That I can," said Sally. "You'd oughter heerd her, missis, when she -fust came in, a-pleading, you know, with me to assist her, and not help -to keep her a prisoner here. I declare, it quite went to my heart. And -she looked so little, and so young, and so helpless, poor creature!" - -"You're sure her room's all safe and secure, Sally--windows and all?" - -"Sure as sure, master. Jack the Giant Killer couldn't remove them 'ere -bars." - -"Because," said Dr. Oleander, "she is quite capable, in her mad fits, of -precipitating herself out of the window and breaking her neck. And be -careful, Sally, you cut up her food when you take it to her. Don't bring -her any knives or forks." - -"I said I wouldn't go near her," said old Sally, facing him resolutely; -"and I won't! And what's more, Peter won't! And if you fetches mad-women -here, Doctor Guy, you've got to 'tend onto 'em yourself, sir. I won't be -'sassynated in my old age by crazy lunatics; and no more my old man -won't, neither. There now!" - -Sally finished with a shower of resolute nods. Dr. Oleander knew her a -great deal too well to remonstrate. When Sally "put her foot down" all -the powers of earth and Hades couldn't put it up again. - -"You will be here yourself to-morrow, Guy," said his mother, decisively. -"Wait upon her yourself, then." - -"But I must return to New York to-morrow afternoon." - -"Very well; get an attendant for your crazy patient and send her down. -If the young lady's friends are as wealthy as you say, they will surely -let her have a keeper." - -"They will let her have a dozen if necessary; that is not the question." - -"What, then?" - -"Have you accommodation for another in this old barn? Can you put up -with the trouble?" - -"We'll endeavor to do so for your sake. It is easier to put up with -another person in the house than be at the beck and call of a lunatic -ourselves. Send one from New York capable of taking care of your crazy -young lady, and Sally and I will take care of her." - -"Thanks! And meantime?" - -"Meantime, I will wait upon her myself--if you will assure me she will -not be violent." - -"I think I can. She is only violent with me, poor soul. She has got an -idea into her weak, deranged little head that she is as sane as you or -I, and that I have carried her off by force and keep her prisoner here. -She goes raving mad at sight of me, but with you she may probably be -cool enough. She will tell you a piteous story of how she has been -entrapped and carried off from home, if you will listen to her. You -had better not; it only encourages her unfortunate delusion." - -Mrs. Oleander shrugged her broad shoulders. She was an old woman of -strong mind and iron resolution, and nothing in the way of heart to -speak of. Her accomplished son took after her in these admirable -qualities. - -"I have other fish to fry than listening to the empty babble of a -maniac. By the bye, what did you say her name was?" - -"Miss Dane," responded the doctor, after a slight pause. - -He knew he might as well tell the truth about it, or Mollie herself -would for him. - -"And she is a relative of Blanche's husband?" - -"A very near though unacknowledged relation. And now, mother mine, I'll -take my supper and turn in if you'll permit me. I've had a very long and -fatiguing drive this stormy night." - -He sat down to the table and fell to work with an appetite. Old Sally -waited upon him, and gazed at his performance with admiring eyes. - -"Won't your young lady want something, Guy?" his mother asked, -presently. - -"Let her fast a little," replied the doctor, coolly; "it will take some -of the unnecessary heat out of her blood. I'll fetch her her breakfast -to-morrow." - -Mrs. Oleander upon this retired at once, and the doctor, after smoking -old Peter's pipe in the chimney-corner, retired also. - -Then the old man hobbled upstairs to bed, and Sally, after raking out -the fire, and seeing to the secure fastening of doors and windows, took -up her tallow candle and went after him. - -Outside the door of the poor little captive she paused, listening in a -sort of breathless awe. But no sound came forth: the tumult of wind, and -sea, and rain had the inky night all to themselves. - -"She's asleep, I reckon," said old Sally, creeping away. "Poor little, -pretty creeter!" - -But Mollie was not asleep. When the door had closed after Dr. Oleander, -she had dropped on the floor like a stone, and had never stirred since. - -She was not in a faint. She saw the ruddy blaze of the fire, as the -tongues of flame leaped like red serpents up the chimney; she heard the -wild howling of the night wind, the ceaseless dash and fall of the rain, -the indescribable roar of the raging sea; she heard the trees creak and -toss and groan; she heard the rats scampering overhead; she heard the -dismal moaning of the old house itself rocking in the gale. - -She saw, she heard, but as one who neither sees nor hears; like one in -a drugged, unnatural stupor. She could not think; an iron hand seemed to -have clutched her heart, a dreadful despair to have taken possession of -her. She had made a horrible, irreparable mistake; she was body and soul -in the power of the man she hated most on earth. She was his wife!--she -could get no further than that. - -The stormy night wore on; midnight came and the elemental uproar was at -its height. Still she lay there all in a heap, suffering in a dulled, -miserable way that was worse than sharpest pain. She lay there stunned, -overwhelmed, not caring if she ever rose again. - -And so morning found her--when morning lifted a dull and leaden eye -over the stormy sea. It came gloomy and gray, rain falling still, wind -whispering pitifully, and a sky of lead frowning down upon the drenched, -dank earth and tossing, angry ocean. - -All in a heap, as she had fallen, Mollie lay, her head resting on a -chair, her poor golden ringlets tossed in a wild, disheveled veil, fast -asleep. Pitifully, as sleep will come to the young, be their troubles -ever so heavy, sleep had sealed those beaming blue eyes, "not used to -tears at night instead of slumber." Tears, Mollie had shed none--the -blow that had fallen had left her far beyond that. - -Nine o'clock struck; there was a tap at the prison door. Dr. Oleander, -thinking his patient's fast had lasted long enough, was coming with a -bountiful breakfast. There was no reply to the tap. - -"Mollie," the doctor called, gently, "it is I with your breakfast. I am -coming in." - -Still no response. He turned the key in the lock, opened the door and -entered. - -What he had expected, Dr. Oleander did not know; he was in a little -tremor all over. What he saw was his poor, little prisoner crouched -on the floor, her face fallen on a chair, half hidden by the shower -of amber curls, sleeping like a very babe. - -The hardened man caught his breath; it was a sight to touch any heart; -perhaps it even found its way to his. - -He stood and looked at her a moment, his eyes getting humid, and softly -set down his tray. - -"'The Sleeping Beauty,'" he said, under his breath. "What an exquisite -picture she makes! My poor little, pretty little Mollie!" - -He had made scarcely any noise; he stood gazing at her spell-bound; but -that very gaze awoke her. - -She fluttered like a bird in its nest, murmured indistinctly, her -eyelids quivered a second, then the blue eyes opened wide, and directly -she was wide awake. - -"Good-morning, Mollie," said the doctor. "I'm afraid I awoke you, and -you were sleeping like an angel. You have no idea how lovely you look -asleep. But such a very uncomfortable place, my dear one. Why didn't you -go to bed like a reasonable being?" - -Mollie rose slowly and gathered away her fallen hair from her face. Her -cheeks were flushed pink with sleep, her eyes were calm and steadfast, -full of invincible resolution. She sat down in the chair she had used -for a pillow, and looked at him steadily. - -"You may take that away, Doctor Oleander," she said. "I will neither eat -nor drink under this roof." - -"Oh, nonsense, Mollie!" said the doctor, in no way alarmed by this -threat; "yes, you will. Look at this buttered toast, at these eggs, at -this ham, at these preserves, raspberry jam. Mollie--'sweets to the -sweet,' you know--look at them and you'll think better of it." - -She turned her back upon him in bitter disdain. - -"Mollie," the doctor said, beseechingly, "don't be so obstinately set -against me. You weren't, you know, until I removed my disguise. I'm no -worse now than I was before." - -"I never thought it was you," Mollie said, in a voice of still despair. - -"Oh, yes, you did. You dreaded it was me--you hoped it was that puppy, -Ingelow, confound him! Why, Mollie, he doesn't care for you one tithe -of what I do. See what I have risked for you--reputation, liberty, -everything that man holds dear." - -"And you shall lose them yet," Mollie said, between her clinched teeth. - -"I have made myself a felon to obtain you, Mollie. I love you better -than myself--than anything in the world. You are my wife--be my wife, -and forgive me." - -"Never!" cried Mollie passionately, raising her arm aloft with a gesture -worthy of Siddons or Ristori; "may I never be forgiven when I die if I -do! I could kill you this moment, as I would a rat, if I had it in my -power, and with as little compunction. I hate you--I hate you--I hate -you! How I hate you words are too poor and weak to tell!" - -"Of course," said the doctor, with ineffable calm: "it's perfectly -natural just now. But you'll get over it, Mollie, believe me you will, -and like me all the better by and by." - -"Will you go?" said Mollie, her eyes beginning to blaze. - -"Listen to me first," said the doctor, earnestly. "Listen to me, I -implore you, Mollie! I have taken a dangerous step in fetching you -here--in marrying you as I did; my very life is at stake. Do you think I -will stick at trifles now? No. You must either return to New York as my -wife, openly acknowledging yourself such, or--never return. Wait--wait, -Mollie! Don't interrupt. You are altogether in my power. If you were -hidden in a dungeon of the French Bastile you could not be more secure -or secluded than here. There is no house within five miles; there is -the wild sea, the wild woods, a stretch of flat, barren, marshy -sea-coast--nothing more. No one ever comes here by water or land. There -are iron bars to those windows, and the windows are fifteen feet from -the ground. The people in this house think you mad--the more you tell -them to the contrary the less they will believe you. In New York they -have not the slightest clew to your whereabouts. You vanished once -before and came back--they will set this down as a similar trick, and -not trouble themselves about you. You are mine, Mollie, mine--mine! -There is no alternative in the wide earth." - -Dr. Oleander's face flashed with triumph, his voice rang out exultantly, -his form seemed to tower with victory, his eyes flashed like burning -coals. He made one step toward her. - -"Mine, Mollie; mine you have been, mine you will be for life. The gods -have willed it so, Mollie--my wife!" - -Another step nearer, triumphant, victorious, then Mollie lifted her arm -with a queenly gesture and uttered one word: - -"Stop!" - -She was standing by the mantel, drawn up to her full height, her face -whiter than snow, rigid as marble, but the blue eyes blazing blue flame. - -"Back, Doctor Oleander! Not one step nearer if you value your life!" She -put her hand in her bosom and drew out a glittering plaything--a curious -dagger of foreign workmanship she had once taken from Carl Walraven. -"Before I left home, Doctor Oleander, I took this. I did not expect to -have to use it, but I took it. Look at it; see its blue, keen glitter. -It is a pretty, little toy, but it proves you a false boaster and a -liar! It leaves me one alternative--death!" - -"Mollie! For God's sake!" - -There was that in the girl's white, rigid face that frightened the -strong man. He recoiled and looked at the little flashing serpent with -horror. - -"I have listened to you, Doctor Guy Oleander," said Mollie Dane, slowly, -solemnly; "now listen to me. All you say may be true, but yours I never -will be--never, never, never! Before you can lay one finger on me this -knife can reach my heart or yours. I don't much care which, but yours if -I can. If I am your wife, as you say, the sooner I am dead the better." - -"Mollie, for Heaven's sake--" - -But Mollie, like a tragedy queen, waved her hand and interrupted him: - -"They say life is sweet--I suppose it is--but if I am your wife I have -no desire to live, unless, indeed, to be revenged on you. Put a dose of -arsenic in yonder coffee-cup and give me the draught. I will drink it." - -Dr. Oleander grinned horribly a ghastly smile. - -"I had much rather give you a love-philter, Mollie," he said, recovering -from his first scare. "Unhappily, the age of love-philters seems to have -passed. And now I will leave you for the present--time will work -wonders, I think. I must go back to New York; no one must suspect I have -left it for an hour. I will return in a day or two, and by that time I -trust you will no longer be in such a reckless frame of mind. I don't -want you to die by any means; you are a great deal too pretty and -piquant, and I love you far too well. Good-bye, my spirited little wife, -for a couple of days." - -He bowed low and left the room, locking the door carefully. And when he -was gone Mollie drooped at once, leaning against the mantel, pale and -trembling, her hands over her face--alone with her despair. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -MIRIAM TO THE RESCUE. - - -An artist stood in his studio, overlooking busy, bright Broadway. He -stood before his easel, gazing in a sort of rapture at his own work. It -was only a sketch, a sketch worthy of a master, and its name was "The -Rose Before It Bloomed." A girl's bright, sweet face, looking out of a -golden aureole of wild, loose hair; a pair of liquid, starry, azure -eyes; a mouth like a rosebud, half pouting, half smiling. An exquisite -face--rosy, dimpled, youthful as Hebe's own--the radiant face of Mollie -Dane. - -The day was near its close, and was dying in regal splendor. All day the -dark, dreary rain had fallen wearily, ceaselessly; but just as twilight, -ghostly and gray, was creeping up from the horizon, there had flashed -out a sudden sunburst of indescribable glory. - -The heavens seemed to open, and a glimpse of paradise to show, so grand -and glorious was the oriflamme of crimson and purple and orange and gold -that transfigured the whole firmament. - -A lurid light filled the studio, and turned the floating yellow hair of -the picture to living, burnished ripples of gold. - -"It is Mollie--living, breathing, lovely Mollie!" the artist said to -himself in sudden exultation--"beautiful, bewitching Mollie! Fit to sit -by a king's side and wear his crown. Come in!" - -For a tap at the studio door suddenly brought our enthusiastic artist -back to earth. He flung a cloth over the sketch, and leaned gracefully -against the easel. - -The figure that entered somewhat disturbed the young man's -constitutional phlegm--it was so unlike his usual run of visitors--a -remarkable figure, tall, gaunt, and bony, clad in wretched garb; a -haggard, powerful face, weather-beaten and brown, and two blazing black -eyes. - -The artist opened his own handsome orbs to their widest extent. - -"I wish to see Mr. Hugh Ingelow," said this singular woman in a deep -bass voice. - -"I am Hugh Ingelow, madame, at your service." - -The woman fixed her burning eyes on the calm, serenely handsome face. -The lazy hazel eyes of the artist met hers coolly, unflinchingly. - -"I await your pleasure, madame. Will you enter and sit down?" - -The woman came in, closed the door cautiously after her, but declined -the proffered seat. - -"To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?" asked the artist, -quietly. "I have not the pleasure of knowing you." - -"I am Mollie Dane's aunt." - -"Ah, indeed!" and Mr. Hugh Ingelow lighted up, for the first time, with -something like human interest. "Yes, yes; I remember you now. You came -to Mr. Carl Walraven's wedding and gave us a little touch of high -tragedy. Pray sit down, and tell me what I can do for you." - -"I don't want to sit. I want you to answer me a question." - -"One hundred, if you like." - -"Do you know where Mollie Dane is?" - -"Not exactly," said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "I'm not blessed, unfortunately, -with the gift of the fairy prince in the child's tale. I can't see my -friends through walls of stone and mortar; but I take it she is at the -palatial mansion uptown." - -"She is not!" - -"Eh?" - -"She is not!" reiterated Miriam. "I have just been there. They are in -the utmost alarm and distress--at least, Mr. Walraven appears to be. -Mollie has again disappeared." - -"By Jove!" cried Mr. Ingelow, in dismay. - -"She left the house late last night. One of the servants, it appears, -saw her go, and she has never been heard of or seen since." - -"By Jove!" for the second time exclaimed Hugh Ingelow. - -"It is supposed that she has met with foul play--been inveigled away -from home, and is in the power of a villain." - -"Well," said Mr. Ingelow, drawing a long breath, "Miss Dane has the -greatest knack of causing sensations of any lady I ever knew. Pray, are -you aware this is the second time such a thing has happened?" - -"I am quite aware of it. Also, that she went against her will." - -"Indeed! Being so near a relative, it is natural you should be posted. -And now, may I beg to know," said the young man, with cool politeness, -"why you do me the honor to come and inform me?" - -Miriam looked at him with her eagle glance--keen, side-long, searching. -Mr. Ingelow made her a slight bow. - -"Well, madame?" smiling carelessly. - -"Do you not know?" - -"I?"--a broad stare. "Really, madame, I am at a loss--How should I -know?" - -"Did you not meet Mollie last night at the corner of Broadway and -Fourteenth Street?" - -"Most certainly not." - -"Where were you at ten o'clock last evening?" - -Again Mr. Ingelow smiled. - -"Really, a raking cross-examination. Permit me to decline answering that -question." - -"And you know nothing of Mollie's previous disappearance--of that -mysterious fortnight?" - -"My good woman, be reasonable. I'm not an astrologer, nor a wizard, -nor yet a clairvoyant. I'm not in Miss Dane's confidence. I put it to -yourself--how should I know?" - -"You shuffle--you equivocate!" cried Miriam, impatiently. "Why don't you -answer at once--yes or no?" - -"My dear lady," with a deprecating wave of his shapely hand, "don't be -so dreadfully blunt. Pray tell me of what you accuse me--of forcibly -abducting Miss Dane last night at ten o'clock? With my hand on my heart, -madame, on the word of a man and brother--on the honor of an artist--I -solemnly asseverate I didn't do it!" - -Miriam groaned. - -"Then what has become of that unfortunate child? She thought it was you, -or she never would have gone." - -The fair, refined face of the artist flushed deep red, and he was grave -in an instant. - -"Madame, what do you say?" - -"Oh, you know!" cried the woman, vehemently. "You surely know, else all -you men are blinder than bats. You know she loved you well." - -"Oh, madame!" - -The young man caught his breath. - -"She told me so herself," cried Miriam, recklessly betraying this, and -wringing her hands; "and she went last night, hoping it was you." - -The momentary expression of rapture had quite faded out of Mr. Ingelow's -face by this time, and, leaning against his easel, he was listening with -cool attention. But if Miriam could have known how this man's heart was -plunging against his ribs! - -"I think there is a mistake somewhere," said Hugh, with _sang-froid_. -"Miss Dane refused me." - -"Bah!" said Miriam, with infinite scorn; "much you know of women, to -take that for a test! But it isn't to talk of love I came here. I am -half distracted. The child has met with foul play, I am certain, since -you are here." - -"Will you have the goodness to explain, my good woman," said Mr. -Ingelow, beseechingly. "Consider, I am all in the dark." - -"And I can not enlighten you without telling you the whole story, and if -you are not the hero of it, I have no right, and no wish, to do that. -One question I will ask you," fixing her powerful eyes on his face: "Do -you still love Mollie Dane?" - -Mr. Ingelow smiled serene as the sunset sky outside. - -"A point-blank question. Forgive me if I decline answering it." - -Miriam's eyes flashed fire. - -"You never cared for her!" she said, in fierce impatience. "You are a -poltroon and a carpet-knight, like the rest--ready with plenty of fine -words, and nothing else! You asked her to marry you, and you don't care -whether she is living or dead!" - -"Why should I?" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "She refused to marry me." - -"And with a flighty girl's refusal your profound, and lasting, and all -enduring love dies out, like a dip-candle under an extinguisher! Oh, you -are all alike--all alike! Selfish, and mean, and cruel, and false, and -fickle to the very heart's core!" - -"Hard words," said Mr. Ingelow, with infinite calm. "You make sweeping -assertions, madame, but there is just a possibility of your being -mistaken, after all." - -"Words, words, words!" Miriam cried, bitterly. "Words in plenty, but no -actions! I wish my tongue had been palsied ere I uttered what I have -uttered within this hour!" - -"My dear madame, softly, softly! Pray, pray do not be so impetuous. -Don't jump at such frantic conclusions! I assure you, my words are not -empty sound. I mean 'em, every one. I'll do anything in reason for you -or your charming niece." - -"In reason!" said the woman, with a scornful laugh. "Oh, no doubt! -You'll take, exceeding good care to be calm and reasonable, and weigh -the pros and cons, and not get yourself into trouble to deliver the girl -you wanted to marry the other day from captivity--from death, perhaps! -She refused you, and that is quite sufficient." - -"Now, now!" cried Mr. Ingelow, appealing to the four walls in -desperation. "Did ever mortal man hear the like of this? -Captivity--death! My good woman--my dear lady--can't you draw it a -little milder? Is not this New York City? And are we not in the year of -grace eighteen hundred and ninety? Pray, don't go back to the Dark Ages, -when lovers went clad in clanking suits of mail, and forcibly carried -off brides from the altar, under the priest's very nose, _à la_ Young -Lochinvar. Do be reasonable, there's a good soul!" - -Miriam turned her back upon him in superb disdain. - -"And this is the man Mollie preferred! This is the man I thought would -help me! Mr. Hugh Ingelow, I wish you good-evening." - -"No, no." exclaimed Mr. Ingelow, starting up. "Not yet! Open the -mysteries a little before you depart. I'm willing and ready to aid you -to the best of my ability. Tell me what I'm to do, and I'll do it." - -"I have nothing to tell," Miriam said, steadfastly. "I will not put you -to the trouble of helping me." - -"But you must!" cried the artist, suddenly transforming himself into a -new man. "If Mollie Dane is really in danger, then I must know, and aid -her. No one has a better right, for no one on earth loves her as well as -I do." - -"Ha!" exclaimed Miriam, stopping short. "We have it at last, have we? You -love her, then?" - -"With all my heart, and mind, and strength; as I never have loved, and -never will love, any other earthly creature. Now, then, sit down here -and tell me, from first to last, what you came here to tell." - -He wheeled forward a chair, took the woman by both shoulders, and -compelled her to be seated. His face was very pale, his eyes alight, his -statuesque mouth stern, and set, and powerful. - -Miriam looked at him with dawning admiration and respect. The man that -makes them obey is the man women are pretty safe to adore. - -"Now, then," he said--"now, Madame Miriam, I want you to begin at the -beginning and tell me all. If Mollie Dane is above ground, I will find -her." - -The woman looked up in his handsome face, locked in grim, inflexible -resolution--an iron face now--and relaxed. - -"Mollie was not deceived in you, after all. I am glad of it, I like you. -I would give a year of my life to see you safely her husband." - -"Many thanks! Pity she is not of the same mind!" - -"Girls change.--You never asked her but once. Suppose you try again. You -are young enough and handsome enough to win whomsoever you please." - -"You are complimentary. Suppose we leave all that and proceed to -business. Tell me what you know of Miss Dane's abduction." - -He seated himself before her and waited, his eyes fixed gravely on her -face. - -"To make what I have to say intelligible," said Miriam, "it is necessary -to give you an insight into the mystery of her previous evanishment. She -was tricked away by artifice, carried off and forcibly held a prisoner -by a man whose masked face she never saw." - -"Impossible! Mr. Walraven told me, told every one, she was with you." - -"Very likely. Also, that I was dying or dead. The one part is as true as -the other. Mollie never was near me. She was forcibly detained by this -unknown man for a fortnight, then brought home. She told me the story, -and also who she suspected that man to be." - -"Who?" - -Miriam looked at him curiously. - -"Doctor Guy Oleander, or--you!" - -"Ah, you jest, madame!" haughtily. - -"I do not. She was mistaken, it appears, but she really thought it might -be you. To make sure, she found means of communicating with this strange -man, and a meeting was appointed for last night, ten o'clock, corner of -Broadway and Fourteenth Street". - -"Yes! Well?" - -"Mollie went, still thinking--perhaps I should say hoping--it might be -you, Mr. Ingelow: and I, too, was there." - -"Well?" - -"Mollie did not see me. I hovered aloof. It was only half past nine when -she came--half an hour too early--but already a carriage was waiting, -and a man, disguised in hat and cloak and flowing beard, stepped forward -and accosted her at once. What he said to her I don't know, but he -persuaded her, evidently with reluctance, to enter the carriage with -him. The rain was pouring. I suppose that was why she went. In a moment -the coachman had whipped up the horses, and they were off like a flash." - -Miriam paused. Mr. Ingelow sat staring at her with a face of pale amaze. - -"It sounds like a scene from a melodrama. And Miss Dane has not returned -since?" - -"No; and the household on Fifth Avenue are at their wits' end to -comprehend it." - -"And so am I," said the artist. "From what you say, it is evident she -went willingly--of her own accord. In such a case, of course, I can do -nothing." - -"She did not go willingly. I am certain she entered that carriage under -the impression she was going with you." - -Mr. Ingelow's sensitive face reddened. He rose and walked to the window. - -"But since it was not I, who do you suppose it may have been?" - -"Doctor Oleander." - -"No! He would not dare!" - -"I don't know him," said Miriam; "but from what Mollie says of him, I -should judge him to be capable of anything. He loves her, and he is -madly jealous; and jealous men stop at nothing. Then, too, Mrs. Walraven -would aid him. She hates Mollie as only one woman can hate another." - -"Doctor Oleander, then, must be the man who abducted her before, else -how could he keep the assignation?" - -"Yes," said Miriam, "that is the worst of it. Poor Mollie! it will drive -her mad. She detests the man with all her heart. If she is in his power, -he will show her no mercy. Mr. Ingelow, can you aid her, or must I seek -her alone and unaided?" - -Mr. Ingelow was standing with his back to her, looking out at the last -yellow line of the sunset streaking the twilight sky. He turned partly -around, very, very pale, as the woman, could see, and answered, -guardedly: - -"You had better do nothing, I think. You had better leave the matter -altogether to me. Our game is shy, and easily scared. Leave me to deal -with him. I think, in a battle of wits, I am a match even for Guy -Oleander; and if Mollie is not home before the moon wanes, it will be -no fault of mine." - -"I will trust you," Miriam said, rising and walking to the door. "You -will lose no time. The poor child is, no doubt, in utter misery." - -"I will lose no time. You must give me a week. This day week come back, -if Mollie is not home, and I will meet you here." - -Miriam bowed her head and opened the door. - -"Mollie will thank you--I can not. Farewell!" - -"Until this day week," Hugh Ingelow said, with a courteous smile and -bow. - -And then Miriam Dane was gone, flitting through bustling Broadway like a -tall, haggard ghost. - -Hugh Ingelow turned back to the window, his brows knit, his lips -compressed, his eyes glowing with a deep, intense fire--thinking. So he -stood while the low, yellow gleams died out of the western sky, and the -crystal stars swung in the azure arch--thinking, thinking! - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -"SHE ONLY SAID, 'MY LIFE IS DREARY.'" - - -That same brilliant sunburst that transfigured the artist's studio in -Broadway blazed into the boudoir of Mrs. Carl Walraven, and turned the -western windows to sheets of quivering flame. - -Elegant and handsome, in a superb dinner-dress of rose-bloom silk and -pale emeralds, Mrs. Walraven lay back on her sofa and looked up in the -face of her cousin Guy. - -"Booted and spurred," as if from a journey, the young man stood before -her, hat in hand, relating the success of their scheme. A little pale, -a good deal fagged, and very anxious, Dr. Guy had sought his cousin the -very first thing on his arrival in town. Mrs. Carl, arrayed for -conquest, going out to a grand dinner-party, was very well disposed to -linger and listen. An exultant smile wreathed her full, ripe lips and -lighted the big black eyes with triumph. - -"Poor little fool!" she said. "How nicely she baited her own trap, and -how nicely she walked into it! Thank the stars, she is out of my way! -Guy, if you let her come back, I'll never forgive you!" - -"By Jove, Blanche!" said the doctor, bluntly, "if she ever comes back, -it will matter very little whether you forgive me or not. I shall -probably go for change of air to Sing Sing for the remainder of my -mortal career." - -"Pooh! there is not the slightest danger. The ball is in your own hands; -Mollie is safe as safe in your dreary farmhouse by the sea. Your mother -and Sally and Peter are all true as steel; no danger of her escaping -from them." - -"No; but they decline to have anything to do with my mad patient. It -was no easy matter, I can tell you, to get them to consent to having her -there at all. I must get her an attendant." - -"That increases the risk. However, the risk is slight. Advertise." - -"I mean to. I sent an advertisement to the papers before I came here, -carefully worded. Applicants are to come to my office. Those who read -it, and who know me, will think I want a nurse for one of my invalids, -of course." - -"You will be very careful in your selection, Guy?" - -"Certainly. My life depends upon it. It is a terrible risk to run, -Blanche, for a foolish little girl." - -"Bah! Quaking already? And you pretend to love her?" - -"I do love her!" the young man cried, passionately. "I love her to -madness, or I would not risk life and liberty to obtain her." - -"I don't see the risk," said Mrs. Blanche, coldly. "You have the cards -in your own hands--play them as you choose. Only you and I know the -secret." - -Dr. Oleander looked at his fair relative with a very gloomy face. - -"A secret that two know is a secret no longer." - -"Do you dare doubt me?" demanded the lady, fiercely. - -"No--yes--I don't know. Oh! never look so haughtily insulted, Mrs. -Walraven. I almost doubt myself. It's my first felony, and it is natural -a fellow should quake a little. But Mollie is worth the risk--worth ten -thousand risks. If it were to do over again, I would do it. By Heaven, -Blanche! you should have seen her as she stood there brandishing that -dagger aloft and defying me! I never saw anything so transcendently -beautiful!" - -Mrs. Walraven's scornful upper lip curled. - -"Lady Macbeth--four feet high--eh? 'Give me the daggers!' I always knew -she was a vixen. Your married life is likely to be a happy one, my dear -Guy!" - -"Oh!" Dr. Guy aspirated, "if she only were my wife! Blanche, I would -give all I possess on earth to know who that man is!" - -"Indeed!" said Mme. Blanche, coolly. "Then I think I can tell you: it -was Hugh Ingelow." - -"Blanche!" - -"I have no positive knowledge, you see, of the fact," went on the lady, -adjusting her regal robes, "but an inward prescience tells me so. -However, you may remarry her and welcome, Guy. I don't think she will -hardly be tried for bigamy. The happy man, whoever he may be, will -scarcely come forward and prove the previous marriage." - -"And she loves this Hugh Ingelow?" the doctor said, moodily. - -"She told that old lady so," Mrs. Blanche said, airily. "But, my dear -love-struck cousin, what of that? To love, is one thing; to have, is -another. She may love Ingelow, but she is yours. Make her your wife. -Teach her to overcame that little weakness." - -"As soon as I can settle my affairs," said Doctor Oleander, resolutely, -"I shall leave the country. I have a friend in Havana--a physician. -There is a promising opening out there, he tells me. I'll take Mollie -and go." - -"I would," replied Mrs. Walraven, cheerfully. "It's a nice, unhealthy -climate; and then, when you are a widower--as you will be, thanks to -yellow fever--come back to dear New York. There's no place like it. And -now, my dear Guy, I don't wish to be rude, you know, but if you would -depart at once, you would very much oblige me." - -Mrs. Walraven stood up, walked over to the whole-length mirror, and took -a prolonged and complacent view of her full-blown charms. - -"How do you think I am looking, Guy?" languidly. "Rather too pale, am -I not? I must have recourse to that vulgar necessity, rouge. Don't you -think this new shade of pink lovely? and so highly suitable to my -brunette style." - -Dr. Oleander gave her a glance of disgust, took his hat, and turned to -leave. - -"I didn't come here to talk of new shades of pink, or your brunette -style, either. Excuse me for trespassing on your valuable time, and -permit me to wish you good-evening." - -"Good-evening, cousin mine," Mme. Blanche responded, sweetly. "Come -to-morrow, and we'll have another little chat. By the bye, how long do -you expect to remain in the city?" - -"Until I have engaged an attendant," answered the doctor, rather -sulkily. - -"Ah! and that will be day after to-morrow, at furthest. You will find -dozens of applicants. Well, by-bye. Come again soon. I shall be anxious -always for your success." - -Dr. Oleander departed. His practice was extensive, and he had hosts of -neglected patients to attend to. - -Mrs. Walraven saw nothing of him all next day; but in the evening of the -succeeding day, and just as she was getting very uneasy, Dr. Oleander -entered, pale and fagged. - -Dr. Oleander had spent a most harassing afternoon, his office besieged -with applicants for that advertised situation. The number of incapables -that thought themselves capable, and the number of capables who flatly -declined the moment they heard they were to go down into the country, -might have worn out the patience of a more patient man. And the capables -willing to overlook the dreariness of the country in consideration of -high wages rose up immediately and bid him good-day when informed the -patient was a lunatic. - -Dr. Oleander was driven to the verge of desperation, when, lo! just as -he was about to give it up in despair, there entered an applicant who -suited as if made to order. - -The applicant--this "last, and brightest, and best"--was a woman of -uncertain age, tall and stout, strong and strapping, and adorned with a -head of violent red hair and a pair of green spectacles. Minus these two -disagreeable items, she was a highly respectable woman, with a grave, -shrewd face, and a portly person wrapped in a somber plaid shawl. - -She stated her case. She had seen the advertisement, and had come to -apply for the situation. She was accustomed to the office of sick-nurse, -and considered herself fully qualified for it. - -Her statement was plain and straightforward--much more so than that of -her predecessors. Dr. Oleander was inclined to be pleased, despite the -green spectacles. - -"But I should wish you to go into the country--a very dull place -indeed." - -The applicant folded her cotton gloves one over the other, and met the -doctor's gaze with composed green glasses. - -"The country is no objection, sir. I'm used to quiet, and all places are -alike to me." - -"You have your credentials with you, I suppose?" - -"I have, sir. Here they are." - -She handed two or three certificates of capability to the toxicologist. - -He glanced them lightly over, and saw that Mrs. Susan Sharpe was all -that heart could desire in the way of sick-nurse. - -"These are satisfactory," handing them back. "But I have one fact to -mention that may discourage you: the lady--the patient--is insane." - -Mrs. Susan Sharpe heard this startling statement without moving a muscle -of her dull, white face. - -"Indeed, sir! A violent lunatic, sir?" - -"Oh, dear, no! merely insane. Subject to occasional fits of violence, -you understand, but quiet generally. But even in her most violent fits -she would be nothing in your hands--a strong, large woman like you. She -is little more than a child in years, and quite a child in weakness. If -you don't mind the dullness of the country, you would suit admirably, I -think." - -"I don't in the least mind, sir. The situation will suit me very well." - -"I am very glad to hear it," said the doctor, immensely relieved. "We -may consider it a bargain, then?" - -"If you please, sir," rising quietly. "When will you want me to go?" - -"To-morrow morning. By the way, Mrs. Sharpe," said the doctor, eying the -obnoxious lunettes, "why do you wear green glasses?" - -"My eyes are weak, sir." Mrs. Sharpe removed the spectacles as she -spoke, and displayed a pair of dull gray eyes with very pink rims. "The -light affects them. I hope my glasses are no objection, sir?" - -"Oh, not in the least! Excuse my question. Very well, then, Mrs. Sharpe; -just give me your address, and I'll call round for you to-morrow -forenoon." - -Mrs. Sharpe gave him the street and number--a dirty locality near the -East River. Dr. Oleander "made a note of it," and the new nurse made her -best obeisance and departed. - -And, to inform Mme. Blanche of his success in this matter, Dr. Guy -presented himself at the Walraven mansion just as the misty twilight was -creeping out and the stars and street lamps were lighting up. - -He found the lady, as usual, beautiful and elegant, and dressed to -perfection, and ready to receive him alone in the drawing-room. - -"I've been seriously anxious about you, Guy," Mrs. Walraven said. "Your -prolonged absence nearly gave me a nervous fit. I had serious ideas of -calling at your office this afternoon. Why were you not here sooner?" - -"Why wasn't I? Because I couldn't be in half a dozen places at once," -answered her cousin, rather crossly. "I've been badgered within an inch -of my life by confounded women in shabby dresses and poky bonnets all -day. Out of two or three bushels of chaff I only found one grain of -wheat." - -"And that one?" - -"Her earthly name is Susan Sharpe, and she rejoices in red hair and -green glasses, and the blood and brawn and muscle of a gladiator--a -treasure who doesn't object to a howling wilderness or a raving-mad -patient. I clinched her at once." - -"And she goes with you--when?" - -"To-morrow morning. If Mollie's still obdurate, I must leave her in this -woman's charge, and return to town. As soon as I can settle my affairs, -I will go back to the farm and be off with my bride to Havana." - -"Always supposing she will not consent to return with you to New York in -that character?" - -"Of course. But she never will do that," the doctor said, despondently. -"You don't know how she hates me, Blanche." - -Blanche shrugged her graceful shoulders. - -"Do you implicitly trust this woman you have hired?" - -"I trust no one," responded Dr. Guy, brusquely. "My mother and Sally and -Peter will watch her. Although, I dare say, there may be no necessity, -it is always best to be on the safe side." - -"How I should like to see her--to triumph over her--to exult in her -misery!" Blanche cried, her eyes sparkling. - -"I dare say," said Dr. Oleander, with sneering cynicism. "You would not -be a woman, else. But you will never have the chance. I don't hate my -poor little captive, remember. There! is that the dinner-bell?" - -"Yes--come! We have Sir Roger Trajenna to-day, and Mr. Walraven detests -being kept waiting." - -"Poor Sir Roger!" with a sneering laugh. "How does the lovesick old -dotard bear this second loss?" - -"Better than he did the first; his pride aids him. It is my husband who -is like a man distraught." - -"The voice of Nature speaks loudly in the paternal-breast," said Dr. -Oleander. "'Nater will caper,' as Ethan Spike says. Mollie's mamma must -have been a very pretty woman, Blanche." - -Mrs. Walraven's black eyes snapped; but they were at the dining-room -door, and she swept in as your tall, stately women in trailing silks do -sweep, bowing to the baronet, and taking her place, and, of course, the -subject of the interesting captive down in Long Island was postponed -indefinitely. - -Dr. Oleander dined and spent the evening at the Walraven palace, and -talked about his ward's second flight with her distressed guardian, and -opined she must have gone off to gratify some whim of her own, and -laughed in his sleeve at the two anxious faces before him, and departed -at ten, mellow with wine and full of hope for the future. - -Early next morning Dr. Oleander called round for Susan Sharpe, and found -that treasure of nurses ready and waiting. All through the long drive -she sat by his side in his light wagon, never opening her discreet lips -except to respond to his questions, and gazing straight ahead through -her green glasses into the world of futurity, for all her companion -knew. - -"Among your charge's hallucinations," said Dr. Oleander, just before -they arrived, "the chief is that she is not crazy at all. She will tell -you she has been brought here against her will; that I am a tyrant and -a villain, and the worst of men; and she will try and bribe you, I dare -say, to let her escape. Of course you will humor her at the time, but -pay not the least attention." - -"Of course," Mrs. Susan Sharpe answered. - -There was a pause, then the nurse asked the first question she had put: - -"What is my patient's name, sir?" - -Dr. Oleander paused an instant, and mastered a sudden tremor. His voice -was quite steady when he replied: - -"Miss Dane. Her friends are eminently respectable, and have the utmost -confidence in me. I have every reason to hope that the quiet of this -place and the fresh sea air will eventually effect a cure." - -"I hope so, sir," Mrs. Susan Sharpe said; and the pink-rimmed eyes -glowed behind the green glasses, and into the tallow-candle complexion -crept just the faintest tinge of red. - -It was an inexpressibly lonely place, as Mrs. Sharpe saw it. A long -stretch of bleak, desolate, windy road, a desolate, salty marsh, ghostly -woods, and the wide, dreary sea. Over all, this afternoon, a sunless -sky, threatening rain, and a grim old pile of buildings fronting the sea -view. - -"A lonesome place," Mrs. Susan Sharpe said, as if in spite of -herself--"an awfully lonesome place!" - -Dr. Oleander looked at her suspiciously as he drew up before the -frowning gate. - -"It is lonely," he said, carelessly. "I told you so, you remember; but, -from its very loneliness, all the better for my too excitable patient." - -Mrs. Sharpe's face seemed to say she thought it might be more conducive -to begetting melancholy madness than curing it, but her tongue said -nothing. Two big dogs, barking furiously, came tumbling round the angle -of the house. Dr. Oleander struck at them with his whip. - -"Down, Tiger! Silence, Nero, you overgrown brute!" he cried, with -an angry oath. "Come along, Mrs. Sharpe. There's no occasion to be -alarmed; they won't touch you." - -Mrs. Sharpe, despite this assurance, looking mortally afraid, kept close -to the doctor, and stood gazing around her while waiting to be admitted. -Bolts grated, the key creaked, and heavily and warily old Peter opened -the door and reconnoitered. - -"It is I, Peter, you old fool! Get out of the way, and don't keep us -waiting!" - -With which rough greeting the young man strode in, followed by the nurse. - -"He fetches a woman every time," murmured old Peter, plaintively, "and -we've got a great plenty now, Lord knows!" - -"This way, ma'am," called Dr. Oleander, striding straight, to the -kitchen; "we'll find a fire here, at least. It's worse than Greenland, -this frigid-zone!" - -Mrs. Oleander sat before the blazing fire, plucking a fowl; Sally stood -at the table, kneading dough. Both paused, with feminine exclamations, -at sight of the doctor, and turned directly, with feminine curiosity, to -stare at the woman. - -"How do, mother? How are you, Sally? Back again, you see, like the -proverbial bad shilling! This is Mrs. Susan Sharpe, the nurse I promised -to bring. How's our patient?" - -He turned anxiously to his mother. She took her eyes from Mrs. Sharpe to -answer. - -"I don't know; she frightens me, Guy." - -"Frightens you!" growing very pale. "How? Is she so violent?" - -"No; it's the other way. She's so still; she's like one dead in life. -She sits all day, and never moves nor speaks. She doesn't eat enough to -keep a bird alive, and she never sleeps, I believe; for, go into her -room night or day, there you find her sitting wide awake." - -Dr. Oleander looked white with dismay. - -"Does she never speak?" he asked. - -"She never spoke to me but once, and that was to ask me who I was. When -I told her I was your mother, she turned her back upon me, with the -remark, 'He says I'm mad, and surely none but a mad-woman would look -for mercy from a tiger's dam!' She has never spoken to me since." - -Dr. Oleander stood listening with a very gloomy face. Mrs. Sharpe, -sitting warming herself before the fire, looked straight at it, with -a blank, sallow face. - -"What do you find her doing mostly?" he asked, after awhile. - -"Sitting by the window, looking at the sea," answered his -mother--"always that--with a face the color of snow." - -The gloom on the young man's face deepened. What if he should prove -himself a prophet? What if this spirited, half-tamed thing should go -melancholy mad? - -"I will go to her at once!" he exclaimed, starting up. "If she goes into -a passion at sight of me, it will do her good. Anything is better than -this death in life." - -He held out his hand for the key of the room upstairs. His mother handed -it to him, and he strode out at once; and then Mrs. Oleander turned her -regards upon the new nurse. - -Strangers were "sight for sair een" in that ghostly, deserted -farmhouse. But the new nurse never looked at her; she sat with those -impenetrable green glasses fixed steadfastly on the blazing fire. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -MISTRESS SUSAN SHARPE. - - -Dr. Oleander was by no means a coward, yet it is safe to say his heart -was bumping against his ribs, with a sensation that was near akin to -fear, as he ascended the stairs. He was really infatuatedly in love with -his fair-haired little enchantress, else he never had taken his late -desperate step to win her; and now, having her completely in his power, -it was rather hard to be threatened with her loss by melancholy madness. - -"What _shall_ I do with her?" he asked himself, in a sort of -consternation. "I must keep her here until I get my affairs settled, and -that will be a week at the soonest. If we were safely _en route_ for -Havana, I should cease to fear. How will she receive me, I wonder?" - -He tapped softly at the door. There was no response. The silence of the -grave reigned all through the lonely old house. He tapped again. Still -no answer. "Mollie!" he called. There was no reply. The next moment he -had inserted the key, turned it, and opened the prison door. - -Dr. Oleander paused on the threshold and took in the picture. He could -see the low-lying, sunless afternoon sky, all gray and cheerless; the -gray, complaining sea creeping up on the greasy shingle; the desolate -expanse of road; the tongue of marshland; the strip of black pine -woods--all that could be seen from the window. The prison-room looked -drear and bleak; the fire on the hearth was smoldering away to black -ashes; the untasted meal stood on the table. Seated by the window, in a -drooping, spiritless way, as if never caring to stir again, sat bright -Mollie, the ghost of her former self. Wan as a spirit, thin as a shadow, -the sparkle gone from her blue eyes, the golden glimmer from the yellow -hair, she sat there with folded hands and weary, hopeless eyes that -never left the desolate sea. Not imprisonment, not the desolation of the -prospect, not the loneliness, not the fasting had wrought the change, -but the knowledge that she was this man's wife. - -Dr. Oleander had ample time to stand there and view the scene. She never -stirred. If she heard the door open, she made no more sign than if she -were stone deaf. - -"Mollie!" he called, advancing a step. - -At the sound of that hated voice she gave a violent start, a faint, -startled cry, and, turning for the first time, eyed him like a wild -animal at bay. - -"Mollie, my poor little girl," he said in a voice of real pity, "you are -gone to a shadow! I never thought a few days' confinement could work -such a change." - -She never spoke; she sat breathing hard and audibly, and eying him with -wild, wide eyes. - -"You mustn't give way like this, Mollie; you mustn't really, you know. -It will not be for long. I mean to take you away from here. Very soon we -will go to Cuba, and then my whole life will be devoted to you. No slave -will serve his mistress as I will you." - -He drew nearer as he spoke. Quick as lightning her hand sought her -breast, and the blue gleam of the dagger dazzled his eyes. - -"One step nearer," she hissed, between set, glistening teeth, "and I'll -bury it in your heart or my own!" - -She raised it with a gesture grand and terrible, and rising slowly from -her seat, confronted him like a little tigress. - -"Mollie," he said, imploringly, "listen to me--your husband!" - -Her white teeth locked together with a clinching noise; she stood there -like a pale little fury. - -"Have you no pity for such love as mine, Mollie? Is your heart made of -stone, that all my devotion can not melt it?" - -To his horror, she broke into a discordant, mirthless laugh. - -"His devotion! He tears me away from my friends, he locks me up in a -dungeon until he drives me mad! His devotion!" - -She laughed hysterically again. - -"It seems harsh, Mollie, but it is not meant in harshness. If there were -any other way of winning you, you know I would never resort to such -extreme measures. I am not the only man that has carried off the woman -he loved, when other means failed to win her." - -Again he came nearer, holding out his hands with an imploring gesture. - -"Only say that you will try and love me--only say that you will be my -wife--promise me on your word of honor, and I will take you back to New -York this day!" - -But Mollie's answer was to raise her formidable knife. - -"One step more," she said, glaring upon him with suppressed fury--"one -step nearer, if you dare!" - -He saw in her face it was no idle threat, and he recoiled. - -"Stay here, then," he angrily cried, "since you will have it so! It is -your own fault, and you must abide the consequences. Mine you shall be, -by fair means or foul! I leave you now, since my presence does no good, -but by this day week you will be sailing with me to sunny Cuba. There I -can have things my own way, and your high-tragedy airs will avail you -little." - -He walked to the door, turned, paused. She stood like a statue, white as -marble, but with, oh! such fiercely burning eyes! - -"I have brought you an attendant," he said, sullenly. "I will send her -up for those things," pointing to the untasted dinner; "she will wait -upon you during the brief time you are to remain here." - -She never moved. She stood there white and defiant and panting, her -glittering eyes riveted to his face. With a sullen oath he opened the -door and walked out, baffled once more. - -"Curse the little vixen!" he muttered, as he stalked down-stairs; "she's -made of the stuff that breaks but never bends. I believe in my soul if I -was to carry her off to sea to-morrow she would leap overboard and end -it all the day after. I wish I had never listened to Blanche's tempting. -I wish I had left the little termagant in peace. The game isn't worth -the candle." - -He found Mrs. Susan Sharpe sitting where he had left her, with her -imperturbable face still turned to the fire, her bonnet and shawl still -on. - -"Take off those things!" he ordered, harshly, pointing to the offending -garments--it was a relief to vent his spleen on some one. "Why the deuce -don't you take her to her room?" turning savagely upon Sally. "Let her -have the chamber next my patient, and then go into her room and fetch -away the tray, and see what you can do for her." - -He flung himself into a chair. Mrs. Sharpe rose with an immovable face. - -"Lor'!" said old Sally, "don't snap our heads off, Master Guy! I can't -help that young woman's tantrums upstairs; so, if she puts you out of -temper, you needn't come howling at me. This way, ma'am." - -Mrs. Sharpe, with a stolid countenance, followed Sally upstairs. The old -woman, grumbling angrily all the way, led her into a small, draughty -apartment adjoining that of her charge. - -"There!" said Sally, snappishly: "this here is your room, and the crazy -young woman's is next. Take off your things, and then come down-stairs -and see what he wants next, and don't have him biting at us as if we was -dogs!" - -Mrs. Sharpe obeyed orders to the letter. In five minutes she was back in -the kitchen, ready for action. The carroty locks were partly covered -with a black, uncouth cap, and a large stuff apron protected her dingy -bombazine dress. She turned a questioning face upon her employer, but -spoke never a word. - -"This is the key of your patient's room," he said, handing it to her; -"you will go up and introduce yourself, and do whatever is needful. I am -going back to town to-night. Don't let me have any fault to find with -you when I return." - -Mrs. Sharpe took the key and turned to go. - -"I know my duty, sir," she said, as she walked out. "I know what I came -to do, and I'll do it." - -Dr. Oleander turned to his mother and old Sally when the nurse had gone. - -"What do you think of her, mother?" - -"I don't like her," Mrs. Oleander answered, promptly. "I wouldn't trust -a person with hair like that as far as I could see them!" - -"Pooh, pooh! what's her hair got to do with it?" - -"Very well," said Mrs. Oleander, nodding sagaciously. "It's nothing to -me; but a red-haired person is never to be trusted." - -"Then watch her," said the doctor. "I trust you and Sally to do that. I -know nothing about her; but don't you let her play me false. It is of -the greatest importance to me that the insane girl upstairs does not -escape--and escape she will if she can. She will try to bribe the -nurse--do you watch the nurse. It will only be for a week at furthest." - -"I am glad to hear it," said his mother, spitefully. "I don't like my -house full of mad-women and mad-women's nurses, and I don't like -playing the spy!" - -"It will only be for a week," the doctor repeated. "I will never trouble -you in this way again. And now I must be off at once. I want to sleep in -New York to-night." - -Without further parley Dr. Oleander stalked out of the kitchen and out -of the house. Five minutes more, and they heard the sharp rattle of his -wheels on the gravel. Then old Peter bolted and locked and put up the -chains, and made the lonely farmhouse as much like a jail as bolts and -bars could render it. Their situation was so isolated, and they -themselves so helpless, that, although there was but little to fear, -these precautionary measures were natural enough. - -Meantime, the new nurse had ascended the stairs and unlocked her -captive's door. She rapped respectfully before entering; but, as usual, -Mollie deigned no notice, and after waiting an instant, she turned the -handle and went in. - -Mollie had resumed her seat by the window, and, with her chin resting on -her hand, was gazing with gloomy eyes at the evening mists rising over -the bleak gray sea. - -Much weeping had dulled the luster of those sparkling eyes and paled the -bright bloom of the once rounded cheeks. - -The Christmas snows were not whiter nor colder than the girl who sat -there and stared in blank despair at the wide sea. - -"I beg your pardon, miss," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe, halting in the -door-way; "I want to come in." - -At the sound of the strange voice, the prisoner wheeled suddenly around -and confronted her. - -"Come in, then," she said: and Mrs. Sharpe came slowly in and closed the -door. "Who are you?" Mollie asked, transfixing her with her steadfast -gaze. "I never saw you before." - -"No, miss; I only came from New York to-day." - -"Who are you?" - -"I'm Susan Sharpe." - -"And what are you doing here?" - -"I'm to be your nurse, miss. Doctor Oleander hired me and brought me -down." - -"Doctor Oleander is a villain, and you are, I suspect, his tool." - -"I'm sorry you think so, miss," Mrs. Susan Sharpe said, composedly. "Is -there anything I can do for you?" - -But Mollie did not reply. She was staring at her new attendant with all -her might. - -"Who are you?" she said, breathlessly. "Surely someone I know." - -The woman smiled. - -"No one you know, miss--unless you have the advantage of me. I don't -suppose you ever heard my name before." - -"I don't suppose I have," retorted Miss Dane; "but I have certainly -heard your voice." - -"No! Have you, now? Where, I wonder?" - -Mollie gazed at her wistfully, scrutinizingly. Surely that face, that -voice, were familiar; and yet, as soon as she strove to place them, all -became confusion. She turned away with a sigh. - -"It's of no use. I suppose you're in league with the rest. I think the -people in this house have hearts harder than stone." - -"I'm very sorry for you, miss, if that's what you mean," said Mrs. Susan -Sharpe, respectfully. "Yours is a very sad affliction, indeed." - -"A very sad affliction! Do you mean being imprisoned here?" - -"Oh, dear, no, miss!" looking embarrassed. "I mean--I'm sure, I beg your -pardon, miss--I mean--" - -"You mean you pretend to believe Doctor Oleander's romance," interrupted -Mollie, contemptuously. "You mean I am crazy!" - -"Don't be angry, miss," said Mrs. Sharpe, deprecatingly. "I wouldn't -give offense for the world." - -"Look at me," said Mollie, impetuously--"look me in the face, Susan -Sharpe, and tell me if I look like one insane!" - -Mrs. Sharpe turned the mild light of the green glasses on the pale, -excited young face. - -"No, miss, I can't say you do; but it isn't for me to judge. I'm a poor -woman, trying to turn an honest penny--" - -"By helping the greatest scoundrel that ever escaped the gallows to keep -prisoner an unoffending girl! Is that how you try to turn an honest -penny, Susan Sharpe?" - -Susan Sharpe, shrinking, as well as she might, from the fiery flashing -of two angry blue eyes, murmured an inaudible something, and busied -herself among the dishes. - -"Listen to me, woman," cried Mollie, pushing back her wild, loose hair, -"and pity me, if you have a woman's heart. This man--this Doctor -Oleander--led me into a trap, inveigled me from home, brought me here, -and keeps me here a prisoner. To further his own base ends he gives out -that I am insane. My friends are in the greatest distress about me, and -I am almost frantic by being kept here. Help me to escape--my friends in -Now York are rich and powerful--help me, Susan Sharpe, and you will -never know want more!" - -Mrs. Susan Sharpe had keen ears. Even in the midst of this excited -address she had heard a stealthy footstep on the creaking stairs--a -footstep that had paused just outside the door. She took her cue, and -made no sign. - -"I'm very sorry, miss," slightly raising her voice--"very sorry for you, -indeed. What you say may be all very true, but it makes no difference to -me. My duty's plain enough. I'm paid for it, I've promised to do it, and -I'll do it." - -"And that is--" - -"To wait upon you. I'll be your faithful attendant while I'm here; but -to help you to escape I can't. Doctor Oleander tells me you're insane; -you tell me yourself you're not insane. I suppose you ought to know -best; but I've been in lunatic asylums before now, and I never yet knew -one of 'em to admit there was anything the matter with 'em." - -And with this cruel speech, Mrs. Susan Sharpe, keeping her eyes anywhere -but upon the young lady's face, lifted the tray and turned to go. - -"Is there anything I can do for you, miss?" she said, pausing at the -door. "Is there anything nice you would like for supper?" - -But Mollie did not reply. Utterly broken down by fasting, and -imprisonment, and solitude, she had flung herself passionately on -the floor, and burst out into a wild storm of hysterical weeping. - -"I'm very sorry for you, Miss Dane," the nurse said for the benefit of -the eavesdropper without; "but my duty's my duty, and I must do it. I'll -fetch you up your supper presently--a cup of tea will cure the -'stericks." - -She opened the door. Mrs. Oleander, at the head of the staircase, was -making a great show of having just come up. - -"They'll be the death of me yet--those stairs!" she panted. "I often -tell my son I'm not fitted to mount up and down a dozen times a day, now -in my old age; but, la! what do young men care?" - -"Very true, ma'am," replied the imperturbable nurse to this somewhat -obscure speech. - -"And how's your patient?" continued the old lady. - -"Very bad, ma'am--'stericky and wild-like. I left her crying, poor soul!" - -"Crying! For what?" - -"Because I wouldn't help her to escape, poor dear!" said Mrs. Sharpe in -a tone of commiseration. "She's greatly to be pitied." - -"Ah!" said Mrs. Oleander, carelessly; "you couldn't help her, you know, -even if you would. There's Peter, and Sally, and me on the watch all day -long, and from nightfall we let loose Tiger and Nero. They'd tear you -both to pieces in five minutes. Tell her so, poor creature, if she talks -any more of escape." - -"I will, ma'am," responded the respectful Mrs. Sharpe. - -Mrs. Oleander ascended the stairs and went to her own room, very well -satisfied with the submissive and discreet new nurse; and the new nurse -descended to the kitchen, and prepared her patient's supper of tea and -toast, delicate sliced ham, and raspberry preserves. - -The dusk of the sunless afternoon was falling out-of-doors ere her -preparations were completed, and the stair-ways and halls of the dreary -house were in deepest gloom as she returned to her patient's room. - -She found that unhappy little patient lying prone on her face on the -floor, as still, as motionless as if death had hushed forever that -impulsive heart. She made no sign of having heard when Mrs. Sharpe -entered--she never moved nor looked up until the nurse set the tray -on the table, and stooping over her, gave her a gentle shake. - -"Miss Dane," she said in her stolid tones, "please to get up. Here's -your supper." - -And Mollie, with a low, wailing cry, raised her wan face and fixed her -blue eyes on the woman's face with a look of passionate reproach. - -"Why don't you let me alone? Why don't you leave me to die? Oh, if I had -but the courage to die by my own hand!" - -"Please to take your supper," was Mrs. Sharpe's practical answer to this -insane outburst. "Don't be foolish." - -She lifted Mollie bodily up, led her over, seated her in her chair, -poured her out a cup of tea, and made her drink it, before that -half-distracted creature knew what she was about. - -"Now take another," said sensible Mrs. Sharpe; "tea will do you a power -of good; and eat something; there's nothing like good, wholesome -victuals for curing people of notions." - -Wearied out in body and mind, Mollie let herself be catered for in -submissive silence. She took to her new nurse as she had never taken -to any one else in this horrid house. She had a kindly face, had Mrs. -Susan Sharpe. - -"You feel better now, don't you?" said that worthy woman, the meal -completed. "Suppose you go to bed? You look tired. Let me undress you -and tuck you in." - -And again willful Mollie submitted, and dropped asleep as soon as her -head was fairly on the pillow. Motherly Mrs. Sharpe "tucked her in" and -kissed her, and then, with the remains of the supper, went down-stairs -to partake of her own evening repast. - -Mrs. Oleander took tea with her servants, and was very gossipy indeed. -So, too, was old Sully; so, likewise, was old Peter. The beverage that -exhilarates seemed to lighten their aged hearts wonderfully; but Mrs. -Susan Sharpe did not thaw out under the potent spell of the best English -breakfast tea. Silent and attentive, she ate, and drank, and listened, -and responded when directly addressed; and, when it was over, helped -Sally to clear up, and then pounced upon a basket of undarned hose under -the table, and worked away with a will. Her energy and good-will, and -the admirable manner in which she filled up the holes in the stockings -with wondrous crisscross work, quite won the hearts of both Sally and -Sally's mistress. - -The clock struck nine; work was laid aside; Mrs. Oleander read a chapter -aloud out of the Bible, and they then all adjourned to their respective -chambers. Doors and windows had been secured at nightfall, Tiger and -Nero liberated--their hoarse, deep growls every now and then making -night hideous. - -Up in her own apartment, Mrs. Susan Sharpe's first act was to pull up -the curtain and seat herself by the window. The night was pitch -dark--moonless, starless--with a sighing wind and a dully moaning sea. -It was the desolation of utter desolation, down in that dismal sea-side -prison--the two huge dogs below the only living things to be heard. - -"It's enough to drive any one mad, this horrible place," said Mrs. Susan -Sharpe, to herself; "and the very weather seems in the conspiracy -against us." - -She took her lamp as she spoke, and held it close to the window, with an -anxious, listening face. Its solitary red ray streamed far out over the -black road. - -Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, then a sound rent the night -silence--a long, shrill, sharp whistle. - -"Thank the Lord!" said Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "I thought he wouldn't fail." - -She dropped the curtain, set the light on the table, knelt down and said -her prayers, rose up and undressed herself; and then this extraordinary -female went to bed and to sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -HUGH INGELOW KEEPS HIS PROMISE. - - -Mrs. Susan Sharpe was up with the lark, or, rather, with the sea-gulls -whirling and shrieking out on the tossing waters. The early morning sun -streamed in the little chamber; the wind wailed plaintively still, and -the dull tramp, tramp of the multitudinous waves kept up their ceaseless -refrain. - -All was yet still in the lone farmhouse--no living thing was stirring, -not even the rats, that had held high carnival all night. Down in the -back yard and front garden, Tiger and Nero prowled about their beat, -surlily growling at the tossing trees, and were monarchs of all they -surveyed. - -Mrs. Sharpe was not an imaginative person, luckily. She got up and made -her toilet, and splashed herself briskly in a basin of cold water. The -effect of these ablutions was singular--they effected a total cure of -her inflamed eyelids. - -More singular still, a wig of red hair stood on the dressing-table, and -Mrs. Sharpe's cranium was adorned with a respectable growth of dark, -glossy, brown hair. - -"If they only saw me now," said Mrs. Sharpe to herself, with a chuckle, -"I rather think they'd open their old eyes!" - -She went to work artistically--reddened her eyelids over again, -carefully adjusted her wig, set her cap on it, fixed her spectacles on -her nose, and surveyed herself complacently in the cracked -chimney-glass. - -"You'll do," said Mrs. Sharpe, nodding familiarly to her image: "You're -as ugly as if somebody had bespoke you. I only wonder how that little -unfortunate can take to such a looking object--and she does take to me, -poor dear! And now I'll write to him. He's sure to be along in the -course of the morning." - -Taking from her capacious pocket a blank-book and a lead-pencil, Mrs. -Susan Sharpe sat down and wrote. - -And this is what Mrs. Sharpe wrote: - -"She's here, and safe and well, and don't know me no more than the dead. -But I can't get her out. Two old women and one old man are on the watch -all day long. I daren't sneeze but they know it. And before they go off -the watch there's two big, savage dogs goes on, and prowl about all -night. I don't know what to do; tell me. She's awful down-hearted, and -cries and goes on. I heard your whistle last night. Her room is next to -mine--the windows to the left. If you walk on the beach she'll see you; -she sits at the window all day. Doctor O. is going to Cuba in a week, -and going to take her with him; so you had better be quick." - -Mrs. Sharpe read her own composition over two or three times, with a -satisfied look. - -"I think that will do," she murmured. "Trust him to find a way out of a -fix, and we're in a fix now, if there ever was one. Drat the dogs! If it -wasn't for them I could get on myself." - -Mrs. Sharpe was not a rapid scribe. It had taken her a considerable -while to write this, and the household was astir. She folded it up in -the smallest possible dimensions, and wedged it into her thimble. - -"A brass thimble makes a good, strong envelope," said the nurse, with a -grim smile. "And now to begin my day's work." - -She quitted her own apartment and went into that of her charge. Mollie -was still asleep--sleeping like a babe, with lips apart, and cheeks -softly flushed, and loose, golden hair falling in burnished masses over -the pillow. Involuntarily Mrs. Sharpe paused. - -"She looks like a picture," she thought. "No wonder he's crazy in love." - -The sound of the opening door awoke the light sleeper. She rose up on -her elbow and stared around. The nurse advanced with a propitiatory -smile. - -"Good-morning, miss," she said, cheerfully. "I hope you had a nice -sleep." - -"Oh, is it you?" said Mollie. "I was dreaming I was back home with -guardy, and Sir Roger, and poor Hugh, and here I am still. Oh!" in a -voice of bitter anguish, "why did you awake me?" - -"My poor dear," said the nurse, touched, "I didn't know, you know, or I -wouldn't. There! don't think about it now, but get up, like a good girl, -and wash and dress yourself, and have your breakfast comfortable. Things -won't be always like this, you know." - -Mollie looked wistfully at her, but Mrs. Sharpe wasn't going to commit -herself, with no certainty but that listening ears were at the door. - -She assisted the poor prisoner with her toilet, combed out and curled -the beautiful, abundant hair, and made her as pretty as a picture. - -"She's lost her rosy cheeks, and is failed away to nothing," mused the -nurse. "Only for that, she'd be the loveliest thing the sun shines on." - -"And now you're fixed, my pretty dear," said Mrs. Sharpe, "I'll go down -and get your breakfast. Nobody ever feels right in the morning on an -empty stomach." - -Down in the kitchen, Mrs. Sharpe found things in a lively state of -preparation--coffee boiling, steak broiling, toast making, and muffins -baking. Old Sally, in a state threatening spontaneous combustion, bent -over the fire, and Mrs. Oleander, in her rocking-chair, superintended. - -"Are you only getting up now?" asked the doctor's mother, suspiciously. - -"Been up these two hours, ma'am," responded Mrs. Sharpe. "I tidied up -myself and my room, and then tidied up Miss Dane and her'n. I came down -to fetch up her breakfast." - -"It's all ready," said Sally. "Fetch along your tray." - -So Susan Sharpe fetched along her tray, and received a bountiful supply -of coffee and toast, and steak and muffins. - -"There's nothing like plenty of good victuals for curing the vapors," -observed Sally, sagely. "You make the young woman eat this, Mrs. Sharpe, -and she'll feel better, you'll see." - -Mrs. Sharpe smiled, as she bore off her burden, at the idea Sally must -have of one little girl's appetite. - -She found Mollie sitting at the window gazing at the sea, sparkling as -if sown with stars, in the morning sunshine. - -"Is it not beautiful?" she said, turning to the nurse. "Oh, if I were -only free once more--free to have a plunge in that snow-white surf--free -to have a breezy run along that delightful beach this magnificent -morning?" - -Mrs. Sharpe set down her tray, looked cautiously around her, lowered her -voice, fixed her green-spectacled eyes meaningly on Mollie's face, and -uttered these remarkable words: - -"Wait! You may be free before long!" - -"What do you mean?" cried Mollie, starting violently. - -"Hush! 'Sh! 'sh!" laying her hand over the girl's mouth. "Not a word. -Walls have ears, in prisons. Take your breakfast, miss," raising her -voice. "It will do you no good, acting ugly and not eating." - -For the stairs had creaked under a cautious, ascending footstep, and -Mrs. Sharpe had heard that creak. - -So, too, had Mollie this time; and she turned her shining eyes in -eloquent silence to Mrs. Sharpe, and Mrs. Sharpe had nodded, and smiled, -and grimaced toward the door in a way that spoke volumes. - -"I'm going down to get my breakfast, now," she said, authoritatively. -"Let me see what you'll have done by the time I get back." - -The stairs were creaking again. Mrs. Sharpe did not hurry too much, and -Mrs. Oleander, all panting, was back in her rocker when she re-entered -the kitchen, trying very hard to look as though she had never left it. - -"And how's your patient to-day, Mrs. Sharpe?" she asked, as soon as she -could properly get her wind. - -"Much the same," said Mrs. Sharpe, with brevity; "wants to starve -herself to death, crying in spells, and making a time. Let me help you." - -This to Sally, who was scrambling to get half a dozen things at once on -the table. Mrs. Sharpe came to the rescue with a practiced hand, and -upon the entrance of old Peter, who had been out chaining up the dogs, -the quartet immediately sat down to breakfast. - -After breakfast, the new nurse again made herself generally useful in -the kitchen, helped Sally, who was inclined to give out at the knees, to -"red up," washed dishes and swept the floor with a brisk celerity worthy -of all praise. - -And then, it being wash-day, she whipped up her sleeves, displaying two -lusty, round arms, and fell to with a will among the soiled linens and -steaming soap-suds. - -"I may as well do something," she said, brusquely, in answer to Mrs. -Oleander's very faint objections; "there's nothing to do upstairs, and -she doesn't want me. She only calls me names." - -So Mrs. Susan Sharpe rubbed, and wrung, and soaped, and pounded, and -boiled, and blued for three mortal hours, and then there was a huge -basket of clothes all ready to go on the line. - -"Now, ma'am," said this priceless treasure, "if you'll just show me the -clothes-line, I'll hang these here out." - -Mrs. Oleander pointed to two long ropes strung at the lower end of the -back yard, and Susan Sharpe, hoisting the basket, set off at once to -hang them to dry. - -The two old women watched her from the window with admiring eyes. - -"She's a noble worker!" at last said old Sally. "She 'minds me of the -time when I was a young girl myself. Dearie me! It went to my heart to -see her rubbing them sheets and things as if they were nothing." - -"And I think she's to be trusted, too," said Mrs. Oleander. "She talks -as sharp to that girl as you or I, Sally. I shouldn't mind if we had her -here for good." - -Meantime, the object of all this commendation had marched across the -yard, and proceeded scientifically to hang the garments on the line. But -all the while the keen eyes inside the green spectacles went roving -about, and alighted presently on something that rewarded her for her -hard day's work. - -It was a man emerging from the pine woods, and crossing the waste strip -of marshland that extended to the farm. - -A high board fence separated the back yard from this waste land, and but -few ever came that way. - -The man wore the dress and had the pack of a peddler, and a quantity of -tow hair escaped from under a broad-brimmed hat. The brown face was half -hidden in an enormous growth of light whiskers. - -"Can it be?" thought Susan, with a throbbing heart. "I darsn't speak, -for them two old witches are watching from the window." - -Here the peddler espied her, and trolled out, in a rich, manly voice: - -"My father he has locked the door, - My mother keeps the key: -But neither bolts nor bars shall part - My own true love and me." - -"It is him!" gasped Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "Oh, good gracious!" - -"Good-day to you, my strapping, lass. How do you find yourself this -blessed morning?" - -Susan Sharpe knew there were listening ears and looking eyes in the -kitchen, and for their benefit she retorted: - -"It's no business of yours how I am! Be off with you! We don't allow no -vagrants here!" - -"But I ain't a vagrant, my duck o' diamonds. I'm a respectable Yankee -peddler, trying to turn an honest penny by selling knickknacks to the -fair sect. Do let me in, there's a pretty dear! You hain't no idee of -the lovely things I've got in my pack--all dirt cheap, too!" - -"I don't want nothing," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe. - -"But your ma does, my love, or your elder sister, which I see 'em at the -winder this minute. Now do go, there's a lamb, and ask your ma if I -mayn't come in." - -Mrs. Sharpe dropped her basket in a pet and stalked back to the house. - -"It's a peddler-man," she said, crossly, "a-wanting to come in. I told -him he couldn't, and it's of no use; and the best thing you can do is to -set the dogs on him." - -"No, no!" cried Mrs. Oleander, shrilly. "Let him come in. I like -peddlers. Go with her, Sally, and tell the man to come round to the -garden gate." - -"I'll tell him," said Susan Sharpe, stalking out again. "Let Sally go -and open the gate." - -She marched across the yard and addressed the "perambulating merchant." - -"You're to go round to the front gate. This way. I've a note for you in -my thimble. I'll drop the thimble in your box." - -The first half of Mrs. Sharpe's speech was given for the benefit of Mrs. -Oleander's greedy ears--the latter half, hurriedly and in a low voice, -for his own. - -The sagacious peddler nodded, struck up a second stave of his ditty, and -trudged round to the front gate. - -Mrs. Sharpe finished hanging out the clothes before she re-entered the -kitchen. When she did, there sat the peddler displaying his wares, and -expatiating volubly on their transcendent merits. And there stood Sally -and Mrs. Oleander, devouring the contents of the box with greedy eyes. - -It is not in the heart of women--country women, particularly--to resist -the fascinations of the peddler's pack. - -Mrs. Oleander and her old servant were rather of the strong-minded -order; but their eyes glistened avariciously, for all that, at the -display of combs, and brushes, and handkerchiefs, and ribbons, and gaudy -prints, and stockings, and cotton cloth, and all the innumerables that -peddlers do delight in. - -"This red-and-black silk handkerchief, ma'am," the peddler was crying, -holding up a gay square of silk tartan, "is one fifty, and dirt cheap at -that. Seein' it's you, ma'am, however, I'll take a dollar for it. Wuth -two--it is, by ginger! Sold three dozens on 'em down the village, and -got two dollars apiece for 'em, every one." - -"I'll take it at a dollar," said Mrs. Oleander. "Sally, that piece of -brown merino would just suit you." - -"Makes up lovely, ma'am," said the peddler, turning to Sally; "only four -dollars for the hull piece. Jest feel of it--soft as a baby's skin. -Halloo! miss, what can I do for you?" - -This last to Susan Sharpe, who had set down her basket, and was looking -on. - -"Nothing," replied Susan, with asperity. - -"Oh, now, don't you say that!" exclaimed this persuasive man; "you do -want suthin'--lots o' things--I kin see it in them air sparklin' eyes o' -your'n. What makes you wear green glasses. See here, I've blue, and -white, and fancy colors, with silver straddles for the nose. Do look at -'em--there's a love!" - -Mrs. Oleander laughed, and Mrs. Sharpe so far unbent her austerity as to -kneel down and begin rummaging the miscellaneous articles. - -The peddler's quick eye never left her hands; and when he heard the tiny -click of something falling, an intelligent flash shot from him to the -obnoxious green glasses. - -"I want a thimble," said Mrs. Sharpe, with phlegm. "I've lost mine. How -much do you ask for these here, mister?" - -"Three cents apiece." - -Susan paid down the three cents, pocketed the brass thimble, and slowly -rose. - -"No more to sell to-day," said the peddler, bundling up with celerity. -"So you won't take the brown, ma'am? Sorry we can't make a trade; but -I'll run up again to-morrow with a new lot, and I've no doubt we can -strike a bargain. Good-morning, ladies." - -With which Mr. Peddler shouldered his pack and trudged away, singing. -Old Peter let him out, and locked the gate after, and watched him out -of sight. The peddler ceased his song the moment he was out of hearing, -struck into the woods the instant he was out of sight, and flinging his -pack on the grass, tore it open. - -He had not long to search--Mrs. Sharpe's tarnished old thimble was -conspicuous enough among his glistening new ones. He fished it up, poked -out the crumpled bit of paper, and slowly read it through. When read, he -tore it into fifty morsels, and scattered them in a white shower all -about. Then, with knitted brows and compressed lips, he sat and thought -and thought for a full hour. - -Meanwhile, matters went on smoothly behind him. Mrs. Sharpe, having -finished the washing, and quite won the hearts of the two old women by -her workmanlike manner, prepared her patient's dinner, and brought it -up. - -On this occasion Mrs. Oleander undertook to accompany her. They found -that refractory patient at her usual post--the window--gazing with -dreamy, empty eyes over the ceaseless sea. - -Susan Sharpe was strictly on her guard; her austere face never unbent, -and Mollie took her cue once more. - -"Here's your dinner miss," she said, briefly; "is there anything I can -do for you?" - -"Nothing," replied Mollie, sullenly. "Only leave me alone. I never want -to see either of your ugly old faces." - -She turned her back upon them as she spoke, and never turned round until -they had quitted the room. - -"She's a little imp, if there ever was a little imp yet," said Mrs. -Oleander, spitefully. "Does she always treat you like that?" - -"Worse, mostly," said the imperturbable Susan; "but, la! I don't mind; -I'm used to 'em." - -"Do you think she'll ever get better?" - -"I think it's very likely, ma'am," responded Mrs. Sharpe. "Your cross -ones are always the likeliest. But, of course, I can't say." - -All that long afternoon Mollie was left quite alone. Mrs. Sharpe never -came near her. This indifference on the part of the nurse quite disarmed -Mrs. Oleander's suspicions. If she had any wish to carry favor with her -son's patient, or help her to escape, surely she would not sit there in -the kitchen, hemming her new silk handkerchief, all the while. That was -what Susan did, however, and the weary, weary hours of the warm, sunny -day wore blankly on the poor, lone Mollie. - -The horrible stillness of the place seemed driving her mad. The endless -monotony of the waves rolling up on the beach was growing unendurable. -The wild waste of sparkling-waters, ending in the low horizon line, -wearied her eyes like the sands of the desert. - -"I shall lose all the little reason I ever had if I am kept in this -howling desolation much longer," she said, pressing her hands to her -throbbing temples. "Oh! to shut out this mocking sunshine--to lose sight -of this dreary waste, where no living thing comes! Oh, to get away from -that horrible sea! If I could only die and end it all! But I live on, -and live on where others would be happier and find death." - -She sighed wearily, and looked across at the radiant western sky, -gorgeous with the coming sunset. - -"What did that woman mean? Did she mean anything? Yes, I am sure she -did, and she has come here to help me to escape. Oh, Heaven have pity, -and grant me freedom once more!" - -She clasped her hands and sat there like one out of herself, while the -moments wore on. Purple and gold made the western sky luminous with -glory, and when the gorgeous flames were at their brightest, and the sea -turning to a lake of blood-red fire, a little white boat, with a blue -pennant flying, shot out of the red light and drifted close to the -shore. - -Mollie fixed her eyes on this tiny skiff--why, she could not have told. -Boats passed and repassed often enough, but seldom so close to the -shore. The beauty of the little bark attracted her, nestling as it did -like a white dove on the water, and that fairy azure banner flying. - -A solitary figure sat in the boat, his face turned her way; but the -distance was too great for her to distinguish that face. A word in white -letters she could see on the blue flag; but again the distance was too -great for her to distinguish. She sat and watched and watched, until the -opening of the door startled her. She turned round and saw Susan -Sharpe--this time alone. - -"Look there!" said Mollie, obeying a sudden impulse; "did you ever see -anything so pretty?" - -The nurse looked--bent her brows and looked again. Her face flushed--she -caught her breath. - -"Who is the man?" she asked, hurriedly, lowly. - -"I don't know," in the same breathless way. "He is watching here--but -the distance is so great. Oh, nurse--" - -She did not finish the sentence, but with hands clasped and lips parted, -stood looking imploringly in the woman's face. - -"Wait a minute," said Mrs. Susan Sharpe; "there is no one on the watch -this time, thank the Lord! Mrs. Oleander's down with the toothache." - -She left the room--was absent in her own two or three minutes--then -returned with a pocket telescope in her hand. - -"Try this," she said, quietly; "it's small, but it's powerful." - -She put it in the girl's hand. Mollie turned eagerly to the window--the -boat and the man were near enough now. The word on the blue flag was -Hope; the face of the man was still toward her, true as the needle to -the north star. With the first look she recognized it. A low cry of -amaze, and she dropped the glass, and stood all trembling with the -sudden joyful shock. - -For it was the face she had sighed for, day-time and night time--it was -the man she loved. It was Hugh Ingelow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -MRS. SHARPE DOES HER DUTY. - - -"You know that man, miss?" Mrs. Sharpe said, ineffably calm, stooping -to pick up the glass. - -Mollie turned to her with eyes wild and wide. - -"I know him--yes. And you--Oh, for pity's sake, say you know him, too!" - -"How on earth can I say so until I've seen him?" said Mrs. Sharpe, -poising her glass and clapping her eye to it, one hand over the other, -after the fashion of the sex. - -She took a long look. - -"Well?" Mollie panted. - -Mrs. Susan Sharpe turned to her with a singular smile--a smile that made -luminous the sallow face and glorified the green spectacles. - -Just then the stairs creaked under a cautious, ascending tread. - -"It's Sally," said Mrs. Sharpe, not moving a muscle. "Eat your supper, -and keep your eyes off the window if she comes in. Keep up heart, and -think of the word on the blue banner--hope." - -She turned away and abruptly opened the door as she spoke. There stood -old Sally, with the eyes of a watching cat. - -"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the ancient handmaiden of Mrs. Oleander, very -much discomposed by this abrupt proceeding. "How you do startle a body -with your quick ways! Is Mrs. Oleander in here?" - -"No," said Susan. "How could Mrs. Oleander be here when I left her, five -minutes ago, half crazy with toothache?" - -"Well, she left the kitchen after you, and came up, and I thought she -might have dropped in to see the young woman," fibbed Sally. "How is -she?" - -"Suppose you drop in and see for yourself," responded the nurse, -provoked into being pert to her elders. "Miss Dane, here's a visitor -for you." - -Mollie turned round from the table, where she sat taking her evening -meal. - -"I don't want you or your visitors, Mrs. Sharpe, if that be your name," -said the irascible patient. "You're all a set of old tabby cats -together, and if you don't clear out, I'll fling something at your -head!" - -She bounced from her chair as she spoke and brandished the tea-pot. - -With a howl of dismay, old Sally turned tail and fled incontinently. -Just waiting to exchange one approving glance with her patient, the -nurse thought it prudent to follow her example. - -This little incident had one salutary effect. It frightened Sally out -of her feeble old wits, confirming, as it did, Dr. Guy's fable of the -periodical fits of madness to which the young lady was prone. She -related to her mistress, in shrill falsetto, what had occurred. - -"And if ever I go near the crazy little hussy again, as long as she's -under this roof," concluded Sally, wildly, "I'm a Dutchman!" - -"Weren't you frightened?" Mrs. Oleander asked, turning to the nurse. - -"Oh, not much!" said the serene Susan. "I'm used to it, you know. I -could have dodged if she had heaved the tea-pot. She takes them tantrums -once or twice a day." - -Mollie spent the evening alone, of course, but in despair no longer. -Hope had planted her shining foot on the threshold of her heart, and -for the time she could forget she was the most miserable wife of Dr. -Oleander, in the face of freedom. And Hugh Ingelow was near, and she -loved Hugh. Oh, if she had never refused him--bravest, noblest heart -that ever beat! the most generous gentleman the Creator ever made! - -Alone Mollie sat--alone, but lonely no longer; for yonder, drifting -lazily into the setting tide, the sunset glowing above and around it, -floated the snow-white skift. In the amber mist fluttered the banner -of blue--the banner of hope--and there, lounging easily, with his face -turned to her, was the man she loved, handsome Hugh! her beloved--her -darling! - -"And, oh! that I were by his side," Mollie exclaimed, in her rhapsody, -"never, never to leave it again." - -Solitude and imprisonment had done this willful child some good, you -see. They had taught her to think--to know herself. She never could be -the same crude, madcap Mollie again. - -The last, low, yellow gleam died out of the sunset--slowly crept up -the twilight, palely, gemmed with stars. A round, red moon showed its -crimson disk above the silvery horizon line, whitening as it arose, -until it trailed a flood of crystal radiance over the purple bosom of -the sleeping sea. And still Mollie sat there, watching the shining stars -creep out, and still the fairy bark floated lazily with the drifting -current. She could have sat there and watched him forever--her noble, -gallant Hugh! But by and by, as the night wind grew chill, the little -white boat, glided away and disappeared. - -The entrance of Mrs. Sharpe, with her night-lamp, aroused Mollie from -her trance. She turned eagerly round to greet her. Next to Hugh Ingelow, -her hope now was in this mysterious woman. - -Mrs. Sharpe closed the door carefully after her, set the lamp on the -table, dropped the curtain, and then turned her face to Mollie. One look -at that face told Mollie something had occurred. - -"What is it?" she asked in a breathless whisper. - -And Susan Sharpe, bending down, whispered hurriedly: - -"Doctor Oleander is here." - -Mollie barely repressed a cry. Susan Sharpe caught her, in alarm, by the -shoulder. - -"Hush! Are you crazy? Not a word. Yes, he's down-stairs--came half an -hour ago. Don't look so frightened--he won't trouble you this time." - -"This time," repeated Mollie, noticing the emphasis. "What do you mean?" - -"That he was only run down to see how we get along, and to tell us to be -all ready for an early start. We are going to Cuba." - -"We?" - -"Yes," with a grim smile and nod, "we. You, and me, and Doctor -Oleander." - -"Oh, nurse--" - -"Hush! Hear me out--I can stay but a minute. He is going to take you -to Cuba. His affairs are nearly arranged. He means to start on Friday -night--this is Tuesday. A schooner will be in waiting at the wharf, in -the village yonder. I am to go with you as attendant. He is very much -pleased with me, and I have consented." - -Mrs. Sharpe laughed softly. - -"But, nurse--" - -"Yes, yes; be still. We won't go--be sure of that. He wanted to come up -to see you, but I told him he had better not, if he wanted to have you -quiet when the time came. So he goes off again to-night without -troubling you." - -Mollie clasped her hands in thankfulness. - -"How can I thank you? How good you are!" - -"Thank me by going straight to bed and sleeping like a top. Let the -thought that it is likely to be your last night under this accursed roof -be your lullaby. And now I must go." - -Mollie held up her rosy lips--tempting and sweet--and the woman stooped -and kissed her. - -"You are my best friend," Mollie said, simply. "God bless you!" - -The woman smiled. - -"Nay, the kiss and the blessing, if meant for your best friend, should -have been kept for Hugh Ingelow. I but obey his orders." - -Mollie turned radiantly red. Mrs. Susan Sharpe, with a significant smile -at her own keenness, immediately quitted the room. - -Dr. Oleander did not disturb Mollie. He departed half an hour after Mrs. -Sharpe quitted her for the night. The account his mother and Sally gave -of the nurse made him disposed to trust her. - -"I will take her with me," he thought, "since she is so trustworthy. It -would be too horribly dreary for Mollie without one companion of her own -sex." - -So he offered liberal terms, and Mrs. Sharpe closed with his offer -readily enough. - -"I'd as lief go to Cuba as not," she said, in her sedate way. "One place -is the same as another to me. But it's very soon to be ready." - -"Never mind," replied the doctor. "We'll find dry-goods stores in -Havana, I dare say, and, meantime, I'll provide some ready-made things -from New York." - -Dr. Oleander departed very well satisfied. He would have liked very much -to see Mollie, but his approach always threw her into such a fury, and -he wanted her kept as quiet as possible until the hour of departure. - -"I'll have to resort to the vulgar alternative of chloroform, I dare -say," he thought. "She'll make a fight for it at the last. I can quiet -her, however." - -And so Dr. Oleander went back to New York without one suspicion that his -new nurse was playing him false. - -Within an hour after breakfast, the peddler presented himself next -morning. Again Mrs. Oleander and Sally were vividly interested, and -again each purchased something. Again Mrs. Sharpe said she wanted -nothing, and again she knelt down to examine the contents of the pack. -The peddler pressed his goods, Mrs. Sharpe obdurately declined. He -persisted, Mrs. Sharpe grew angry. - -"Take these here gloves, then, for massy sake!" cried the peddler in -desperation, "ef yer won't take nothin' else. They're the richest of -silk gloves, and, bein' it's you, only fifty cents. Just you feel 'em." - -He looked Mrs. Sharpe full in the face. She took the gloves--a slip of -paper was to be felt inside--a moment's demur, then she purchased and -put them in her pocket. - -The peddler departed; Mrs. Sharpe went upstairs, and drew forth the -slip of paper. There were but three lines: - -"Meet me this afternoon at two. I will be waiting in the woods near the -shore, where you saw my boat yesterday. I know he was with you last -night." - -Mrs. Sharpe read this, destroyed it, and sat ruminating. - -"What if they won't let me go? But no, they wouldn't dare keep me a -prisoner, and if it came to fisticuffs," smiling to herself, "I could -beat the three of them--poor old bodies! I'll go by strategy, if -possible--by main force, if necessary. But I'll go." - -Five minutes longer the nurse sat thinking. Then she arose, walked -down-stairs, and complained drearily of a shocking bad headache. - -Mrs. Oleander recommended a woman's cure--a cup of strong tea and going -to bed. But Susan Sharpe shook her head. - -"Tea never does me no good, and going to bed only makes me worse. I -suppose it's staying in-doors so much. I ain't used to it. I always take -a walk every afternoon. I'll wait and see if it gets better. If it -don't, I'll go and take a little walk along the shore. A mouthful of -fresh air will do me good." - -Mrs. Sharpe waited accordingly, but the headache did not get better. On -the contrary, it grew so much worse that when the one-o'clock dinner was -ready, she was unable to eat a mouthful. She lay with her head on the -table in a sort of stupor. - -"I think you had better take a walk," said Mrs. Oleander, who was not an -ill-natured old woman on the whole. "I don't want you to be laid up on -our hands." - -Mrs. Sharpe glanced at the clock; it wanted a quarter of two. She rose -at once. - -"I think I must, or I'll be fit for nothing for a week. I'll go and put -on my things." - -In five minutes, Susan Sharpe walked out of the garden gate and down to -the shore. Old Peter closed the gate, watched her out of sight, and went -back to the house, unsuspectingly. - -Mrs. Sharpe sauntered slowly over the sandy beach to the strip of dark -woods, skirted them, to avoid being seen from the windows of the house, -and called: - -"Mr. Ingelow." - -"Here," answered a voice, and the peddler emerged from the trees and -stood beside her. "You're a treasure, Mrs. Susan Sharpe," said the -peddler--"worth your weight in crown diamonds. How is she?" - -"As well as can be expected. A good deal the better for seeing you from -her window last evening." - -"I saw you both watching. She knows I have come to rescue her?" - -"Of course. She is a woman." - -"Does she recognize you?" - -"No," with a laugh. "She called me her best friend last night. If she -only knew!" - -"She would still call you her best friend, perhaps. Your 'make-up' is a -good one, Sarah, since she has failed to recognize you. What brought the -doctor?" - -Susan Sharpe briefly told him. - -Mr. Ingelow whistled expressively. - -"So soon? But I have thought so. He is not the man to wait. Well, we must -be ahead of him, Sarah." - -Sarah nodded. - -"Yes--how?" - -"I have it all arranged. Miss Dane must escape to-night. Look at this." - -He pointed to a basket at his feet. - -Mrs. Sharpe lifted the cover, and saw two lumps of raw beef. - -"Well?" she asked, wonderingly. - -"'A sop for Cerberus,'" laughed Hugh Ingelow; "a supper for the dogs. -They'll never want another after." - -"What do you mean?" - -"The meat is poisoned; there is strychnine enough in these two pieces to -kill a dozen dogs. I mean to throw that to them this evening." - -"But how?" - -"Over the wall, of course. What's their names? They'll come when I call -them." - -"Tiger and Nero." - -"So be it. Tiger and Nero will devour the beef and ask no questions. An -hour after they'll be as dead as two door-nails." - -"Poor fellows! But it can't be helped, I suppose?" - -"I suppose not. Save your sympathy, Sarah. You must do for the three old -folks." - -"Poison them, too?" asked Sarah, grimly. - -"Not quite. Just put them to sleep." - -"Indeed! How?" - -Mr. Ingelow produced a little white paper from his vest pocket. - -"You see this powder?" holding it up. "Drop it into the tea-pot this -evening, and don't drink any of the tea." - -The woman shrunk a little. - -"I'm almost afraid, Mr. Ingelow. I don't like drugging. They're old and -feeble; I daren't do it." - -"You must do it," Hugh Ingelow said, sternly. "I tell you there is no -danger. Do you take me for a murderer?" - -"No; but there might be a mistake." - -"There is none. The powder is an opiate; it will harm no one. They will -go to sleep a little earlier, and sleep a little longer and a little -sounder than usual--that is all." - -Mrs. Sharpe took the paper, but with evident reluctance. - -"I tell you it is all right," reiterated Hugh Ingelow; "no one is to -be murdered but the dogs. Doctor Oleander will have no scruple about -drugging Miss Dane on Friday night, you will see. The choice lies -between her and them. Are you going to fail me at the last, Sarah?" -sternly. - -"No," said the woman. She dropped the little package in her pocket, and -looked him firmly in the face. "I'll do it, Mr. Ingelow. And then?" - -"And then the dogs will be dead, and the people asleep, before ten -o'clock. At ten I'll be at the gate; a vehicle will be waiting down -below in the clump of cedars. You will open the house door and the -garden gate, and let me in. Before another day we'll be in the city." - -"So be it. And now," said Mrs. Sharpe, drawing her shawl around her, "I -must go. I came to walk off a bad headache; I find it is gone, so I had -better return." - -"Good-bye, and God speed you!" said Hugh Ingelow. - -Mrs. Sharpe walked back to the house. Old Peter admitted her, and all -three were solicitous about her headache. - -"Much better," Mrs. Sharpe said, quietly. "I knew that walk would cure -it." - -All the rest of the afternoon she helped old Sally to manufacture pies. -Tea-time came, and, ever willing, she volunteered to make the tea. - -"Do so," said old Sally. "I can't abear to take my hands out o' dough -when they're into it." - -The tea was made, the supper-table set, and then Mrs. Sharpe begged -permission to make herself a cup of coffee. - -"I find it better for my head than tea. It will cure me quite, I know." - -Mrs. Oleander assented, and the coffee was made. The quartet sat down -to supper, and Susan Sharpe felt an inward quaking as she watched them -drink the tea. Mrs. Oleander complained that it was weak; Sally said it -must have boiled, it had such a nasty taste; but they drank it for all -that. - -Supper over, Mrs. Sharpe brought up her patient's. But she carried her -coffee, and left the doctored tea behind. - -"We are to escape to-night," she said to Mollie. "Be ready. We will -start at ten. Don't ask me to explain now. I feel nervous and am going -down." - -Before an hour had elapsed the drug began its work. Mrs. Oleander nodded -over her knitting; Sally was drowsy over her dishes; Peter yawned audibly -before the fire. - -"I don't know what makes me so sleepy this evening," Mrs. Oleander said, -gaping. "The weak tea, I suppose. Peter, close up early to-night; I -think I'll go to bed." - -"I'll let the dogs loose now," said Peter. "I'm blamed sleepy myself." - -The old man departed. Very soon the hoarse barking of the dogs was heard -as they scampered out of their kennel. Peter returned to find the two -old women nodding in company. - -"You had better go to bed," suggested Mrs. Sharpe. "I'm going myself. -Good-night." - -She quitted the kitchen. Mrs. Oleander, scarcely able to keep her eyes -open, rose up also. - -"I will go. I never felt so sleepy in my life. Good-night; Sally." - -"Good-night," said Sally, drowsily. "I'll go after you." - -Before the kitchen clock struck nine, sleep had sealed the eyelids of -Mrs. Oleander and her servants more tightly than they were ever sealed -before. And out in the yard, stiff and stark, lay Nero and Tiger. They -had eaten the poisoned beef, and, like faithful sentinels, were dead at -their posts. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -A MOONLIGHT FLITTING. - - -The big Dutch clock on the kitchen mantel struck nine. The silence of -the grave reigned within the house. With the first clear chime Mrs. -Susan Sharpe rose from the bed on which she had thrown herself, dressed -and prepared for action. - -She drew the curtain and looked out. The night was celestial. A -brilliant, full moon flooded the dark earth and purple sea with silvery -radiance; the sky was cloudless--blue as Mollie Dane's eyes, the stars -beyond number, big and bright. - -A faint sea-breeze just stirred the swaying trees; the surf broke in a -dull, monotonous wash on the shining strand; even the dreary Long Island -farmhouse and its desolate surroundings were transfigured and glorified -by the radiant moonlight. - -Mrs. Susan Sharpe was an inestimable woman in her way, but neither a -poet nor an artist. She gave a complacent glance at earth, and sky, and -water, thankful that the benign influences, in the way of weather, were -at work to aid them. - -"It's a very nice night," murmured Mrs. Susan Sharpe. "Couldn't be -better if they tried ever so much. It would have been dreadful awkward -if it rained. How still the house is--like a tomb! Dear me, I hope there -was no harm done by that drug! I must go and get ready at once." - -But just at that moment she heard a sharp, shrill, prolonged whistle. -She paused. An instant more and a man vaulted lightly over the high -board fence. - -"Lor'!" said Mrs. Sharpe, "if it isn't him already! I hope the dogs are -done for." - -It seemed as if they were, for, as she looked and listened, in -considerable trepidation, the man approached the house in swift, -swinging strides. Of course, it was the peddler. Mrs. Sharpe threw up -her window and projected her head. - -"Mr. Ingelow!" - -"Halloo!" - -The man halted and looked up. - -"Where are the dogs?" - -"In the dogish elysium, I hope. Dead and done for, Sarah. Come down, -like a good girl, and let me in." - -"I'm not sure that they're fast asleep." - -"Oh, they are," said Hugh Ingelow, confidently, "if you administered the -drug and they drank the tea." - -"I did," said Mrs. Sharpe, "and they drank the tea and went to bed awful -sleepy. If you think it's safe, I'll go down." - -"All right. Come along." - -Mrs. Sharpe lowered the sash and hurried down stairs. Bolts clattered, -the lock creaked, but the sleepers in the house made no sign. A second -or two and the nocturnal marauders were together in the hall. - -"I told you it was safe," said Mr. Ingelow. "You are a woman in a -thousand, Sarah, to manage so cleverly! Now, then, for Miss Dane! -Upstairs, is it? Do you go in first, Sarah; but don't tell her I'm -coming. I want the pleasure of surprising her myself." - -Sarah smiled, and unlocked Mollie's door. The girl was sitting with an -anxious, listening, expectant face. She rose up and turned around at the -opening of the door. - -"Is it you, nurse? Oh, I have been so uneasy! What noise was--" - -She never finished the sentence--it died out in an inarticulate cry of -joy. For Hugh Ingelow, his disguise torn off, stood in the door-way, -smiling and serene as the god of safety himself. - -Mollie Dane was a creature of impulse--she never stopped to think. One -faint; suppressed cry, one bound forward, and she was in the young man's -arms. - -"Hugh! Hugh! Hugh!" she cried, hysterically, clinging to him, "save me! -save me!" - -It was the first time she had ever called him other than Mr. Ingelow. -The young man's arms closed around her as if they never would open -again. - -"My darling, I have come to save you!" - -It had all passed in five seconds, but that short interval was long -enough for Mollie's womanly instincts to take the alarm. She disengaged -herself, reddening violently. What would he think of her? and Mrs. -Sharpe there, too! - -"They have driven me nearly out of my senses!" she said, with a sort of -choking sob. "I don't know what I am doing half the time, and I was so -glad to see a friend's familiar face, Mr. Ingelow." - -The blue eyes--the eyes of a very child--lifted themselves wistfully, -deprecatingly, shining in tears. Hugh Ingelow was touched to the core of -his heart. - -"I know it, my poor little girl! It is enough to drive any one out of -his senses. But let us see if we can't outwit the crafty Oleander. Put -your bonnet on and come." - -Mollie paused suddenly, and looked first at him, then at Mrs. Susan -Sharpe, then back again. - -"Well, Miss Dane," said Mr. Ingelow, "you're not afraid to come with -me?" - -"Afraid?" the blue eyes turned upon him with an eloquent glance. "Oh, -no! But she--Mrs. Sharpe--" - -"Is coming, too, of course, to play propriety," laughed Hugh. "Mrs. -Sharpe," turning to that demure lady, "put on your fixings and let us -fly!" - -Mrs. Sharpe nodded, and turned to go into her own room. - -"There's Miss Dane's things," she said, pointing to the pegs on which -they hung. "I'll be back in two minutes." - -Mr. Ingelow took them down, and tenderly wrapped the long mantle about -the slender, girlish figure. - -"Are you sure you will be warm enough, Mollie?--I beg your pardon--Miss -Dane." - -"Ah, call me Mollie!" the eloquent glance once more. "How good you are -to me, Mr. Ingelow!" - -Hugh Ingelow winced as if she had stabbed him. - -"I'm a wretch--a brute--a heartless monster! That's what I am, Mollie, -and you'll think so, too, some day--that's the worst of it. Don't wear -that puzzled, frightened face, my darling! Heaven knows I would die for -you!" - -She took his hand and kissed it. Before either had time to speak, of -course Mrs. Sharpe must happen in and spoil all. - -But Hugh Ingelow, strange to say, looked rather relieved. His face had -flushed hotly under that innocent kiss, and then grown deathly pale. He -was very white when Mrs. Sharpe came in, and Mrs. Sharpe's sharp eyes -saw it. The green glasses were gone. - -"You look fit to die," observed Mrs. Susan Sharpe, eying him. "What's -the matter?" - -Mollie looked at him, then turned away. Had she been forward? Was he -mortified? - -She colored painfully, then slowly petrified to marble. But the young -artist only laughed. - -"Pining for you, Mrs. Sharpe. I only exist in the light of your eyes. By -the way, where's the green spectacles?" - -"In my pocket. Come!" - -Mollie had knotted her bonnet strings with nervous, trembling fingers. -She was thrilling through with mortification. She had been bold, and she -had disgusted his fastidious taste, and she had not meant it. She was so -grateful, and she loved him so dearly, but she never would offend in -that way again. - -Mr. Ingelow offered her his arm, but she drew back. - -"I will follow you," she said, in a low voice, shrinking painfully into -herself. - -He said no more, but led the way. Mrs. Sharpe went after, Miss Dane -last. No sound broke the stillness of the house. They might have been in -their beds for all the noise they made. - -"I hope it's all right," Mrs. Sharpe said, with a very uneasy face; -"but I feel scared." - -"You needn't, then," answered Mr. Ingelow; "they're safe enough. They'll -be all alive in two or three hours from now, and will never know what -ailed them. Save your sympathy, Susan, for time of need." - -They went down-stairs, out-of-doors, into the cool, bright moonlight. -Mollie Dane drew a long, long breath of unspeakable thankfulness as she -breathed the fresh, free air once more. - -"Thank Heaven," she thought, "and--Hugh Ingelow!" - -They reached the garden gate; it stood wide; they passed out, and the -artist closed it securely after him. - -"'Safe bind, safe find!' Now, Miss Dane, take my arm, and let us see you -step out. I have a trap waiting down the road. Neat thing this in the -way of moonlight, isn't it?" - -Mollie essayed to laugh. He had not waited for her to decline his -proffered arm this time--he had taken her hand and drawn it securely -through. - -"How does freedom feel, Mollie, after a week or two of close -imprisonment?" - -"Very delightful. You must suffer the imprisonment first, Mr. Ingelow, -before you can realize it." - -"I would prefer trying to realize it without. Ah, my worthy Doctor -Oleander, I think I have outwitted you nicely!" - -"I have been so bewildered, and so flurried, and so stunned from the -first," said Mollie, "that I can not properly comprehend anything, but -I should like to hear how you have brought all this about." - -"Why," said Mr. Ingelow, "Mrs. Sharpe told me." - -"Yes; but you sent Mrs. Sharpe here in the first place; she told me -that. How did you know I was here?" - -"Ah! thereby hangs a tale--too long to tell at this sharp pace. Wait -until to-morrow, Miss Mollie. There's our vehicle yonder. I might tell -you by the way, but the road is long, and the night is chill, and I am -to be charioteer. I couldn't do proper justice to the subject, you -perceive; and besides, I want you to cuddle up and go to sleep. Here we -are. Pile in, Mrs. Sharpe; the back seat, if you please. Miss Dane and I -will sit in front and shield you from the inclemency of the weather." - -"Much obliged to you, sir," Mrs. Sharpe said, dryly, obeying orders, -nevertheless. - -"I'll sit back with Mrs. Sharpe," said Mollie, sensitively shrinking. - -"You'll do nothing of the sort!" retorted Mr. Ingelow, authoritatively. -"You'll do precisely as I tell you! You and Mrs. Sharpe are both in my -power, and if you don't keep uncommonly civil and docile, I'll run off -with the pair of you and start a seraglio! There, ma'am, you're -comfortable, I hope? Now, the sooner you go to sleep the better." - -He helped Mrs. Sharpe into the back seat of the two-seated buggy, -wrapped her up, and then assisted Mollie up in front. - -"A splendid night for our business," he said, getting in beside her and -gathering up the reins. "Now then, off we go, over 'brake, bush and -scaur,' and good-bye to Doctor Oleander and the trip to Cuba!" - -Obedience was not very hard in this instance. Miss Dane snugged up nice -and close to Mr. Ingelow, and felt very comfortable indeed. As for him, -there was a glow of happiness about his heart like the halo round a full -moon. They would have been satisfied, just then, to sit side by side and -drive along in a glory of moonshine forever and ever. - -"Where are we going?" Mollie asked once. - -"To the city--to New York." - -"Oh! I know. But where?" - -"Wherever you please, Miss Mollie. That will be Mr. Walraven's, I -presume?" - -"But--" - -Mollie hesitated. - -"What?" he said, in surprise. "Don't you want to go home?" - -"Very much, Mr. Ingelow. It isn't that." - -"Well, what is it, then?" - -"Mr. Ingelow, you'll think me very silly, I dare say; but I don't want -to go up there in a matter-of-fact sort of way at day-break to-morrow -morning, in this double buggy, with you and Mrs. Sharpe. I should -like--how shall I say it?--a little _coup de théâtre_!" - -"Oh! I understand," Mr. Ingelow laughed. "It is quite natural. I should -like it myself. And, by Jove! I've got a capital idea." - -Mollie looked up brightly. - -"Oleander has given out that he is going to Cuba--he makes no secret of -one half the story, you see--and Mr. Walraven gives a farewell dinner in -honor of the mournful occasion, on Thursday--to-morrow evening. The -party is select--very--on your account, you know--only Sir Roger -Trajenna, Walraven's lawyer, Sardonyx, and myself. Now, when we're all -assembled, discussing your absence, as I'll take care we shall be, and -Oleander is telling lies by the yard, do you appear like a thunder-clap -and transfix him. Guilt will be confounded, innocence triumphantly -vindicated, the virtuous made happy, and the curtain will go down amid -tremendous applause. Eh, how do you like the style of that?" - -Mollie laughed gleefully. Half-tamed thing that she was, a few moments -of breezy freedom, by the side of the man she loved, made her all her -old, happy, mischief-loving self again. In the first bright sparkle and -intoxication, she could quite forget that awful fact that she was Dr. -Oleander's wedded wife. - -"Splendid! Oh! what fun it will be to see him! And such glorious -revenge, too!" - -"Seriously, Mollie," said Mr. Ingelow, "he deserves to be punished for -his unmanly trick." - -"And he shall be!" Mollie cried, her eyes sparkling. "He shall be, if all -the world knows the story! What care I? I will have my revenge on the -man I hate--on the man who has wronged me beyond reparation. And then I -can go away where no one will know me, and make my own way through the -world, as I did before I ever came to New York." - -Hugh Ingelow looked at her. Her eyes were alight, her cheeks flushed, -her whole face eager, angry, and aglow. - -"Wronged you beyond reparation!" he slowly repeated. "Mollie, what do -you mean?" - -"I mean," Mollie passionately cried, "that I am his wife. And I will -never forgive him for making me that--never, never, if it were my dying -day!" - -"His wife!" - -The young man looked at her thunder-struck. - -"Oh! you don't know. You hadn't heard, of course. It wasn't this time. I -would have murdered him and myself this time before he would ever lay a -finger on me. It was before. You remember that other time I was carried -off?" - -"Oh!" - -It was all Mr. Ingelow said; but, singular to relate, he looked -unutterably relieved. - -"He married me then--forced me to marry him--and I--Oh, miserable girl -that I am! why did I not die a thousand deaths sooner than consent? But -I was mad, and it's too late now. Mr. Rashleigh married us. You -recollect that story he told at Mrs. Grand's dinner-party? Well, I was -the masked heroine of that adventure; but I never, never, never thought -Guy Oleander was the hero. I'd have died, even then, sooner than become -his wife. I hoped it was--I thought it was--" - -She paused abruptly. - -"Who?" pointedly asked Hugh Ingelow. - -Mollie stole a side-long glance from under her sweeping lashes at the -handsome face. - -"Some one who loved me as well, and whom I--well, didn't exactly hate; -and I do hate Doctor Oleander!" - -"Which is extremely natural; at the same time wicked, I suppose. Now, -Mollie, don't try to keep awake and talk, because the journey is long -and dreary. Follow Mrs. Sharpe's example and go to sleep." - -He wrapped her up closer; and Mollie, with a delicious sense of safety, -and comfort, and sleepiness, cuddled close in her wraps and felt -luxuriously happy. - -She had slept very little of late. Tears had been her nightly portion, -instead of slumber. Now she was happy and at rest; and the very rush of -the swift wind, as they bowled along, made her drowsy. She leaned her -head against his arm and fell fast asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -PRIVATE THEATRICALS. - - -It was broad day when Mollie awoke, the sun shining brilliantly. She -started up on her elbow, bewildered, and gazed around. - -She was lying on a lounge in a strange room, and Mrs. Susan Sharpe was -seated in an elbow-chair before her, nodding drowsily. At Mollie's -exclamation she opened her eyes. - -"Where are we?" asked the young lady, still bewildered. - -"In Mr. Ingelow's studio," responded Mrs. Susan Sharpe. - -"Oh, Broadway! Then we are safe in New York?" - -The uproar in the great thoroughfare below answered her effectually. -She rose up and walked to one of the windows. Life was all astir on the -noisy pave. The crowds coming and going, the rattle and clatter were -unspeakably delightful, after the dead stagnation of her brief -imprisonment. - -"How did we come here?" asked Mollie, at length, turning round. "The -last I remember I was dropping asleep in the buggy." - -"And you stayed asleep--sound--all the way," replied Mrs. Sharpe. "You -slept like the dead. Mr. Ingelow lifted you out and carried you up here, -and you never woke. I was asleep, too; but he made no ado about rousing -me up. You were quite another matter." - -Mollie blushed. - -"How soundly I must have slept! What's the hour, I wonder?" - -"About half past eight." - -"Is that all? And where is Mr. Ingelow?" - -"Gone to get his breakfast and send us ours. Hadn't you better wash and -comb your hair, Miss Dane? Here is the lavatory." - -Miss Dane refreshed herself by a cold ablution, and combed out her -beautiful, shining tresses. - -As she flung them back, a quick, light step came flying upstairs, a -clear voice sounded, whistling: "My Love is But a Lassie Yet." - -"That's Mr. Ingelow," said Susan Sharpe, decisively. - -The next instant came a light rap at the door. - -"The room is thine own," said Mollie, in French. "Come in." - -"Good-morning, ladies," Mr. Ingelow said, entering, handsome and -radiant. "Miss Dane, I trust you feel refreshed after your journey?" - -"And my long sleep? Yes, sir." - -"And ready for breakfast?" - -"Quite ready." - -"That is well, for here it comes." - -As he spoke, a colored personage in a white apron entered, staggering -under the weight of a great tray. - -"Breakfast for three," said Mr. Ingelow, whipping off the silver covers. -"Set chairs, Sam. Now, then, ladies, I intended to breakfast down at the -restaurant; but the temptation to take my matinal meal in such fair -company was not to be resisted. I didn't try to resist it, and--here we -are!" - -Mollie sat beside him, too pretty to tell, and smiling like an angel. At -Seventeen, one night is enough to make us as happy as a seraph. For -golden-haired, blue-eyed Mollie earth held no greater happiness, just -then, than to sit by Hugh Ingelow's side and bask in the light of his -smile. - -"Delightfully suggestive all this, eh?" said the artist, helping his -fair neighbor bountifully. - -And Mollie blushed "celestial, rosy red." - -"What comes next?" she asked. "After breakfast--what then?" - -"That is for Mistress Mollie to decide." - -"I am not to go home until this evening?" - -"Not if you wish to give unlucky Oleander his _coup de gráce_. Poor -devil! I pity him, too. If you intend to make your _entree_ like the -ghost of Banquo at the feast, you can't appear, of course, until -evening." - -"Must I stay here all day?" - -"Will it be so very hard?" with an eloquent glance. "I shall be here." - -"No, no!" Mollie said, hastily, blushing and laughing. "It would be -light penance, in any case; to spend a day here, after a fortnight down -yonder. What I mean is, I might improve the time by going to see Miriam." - -"If you wait, Miriam may improve the time by coming to see you." - -"No! What does she know about your studio?" - -"Heaps!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "It isn't the first time ladies have -come to my studio." - -"I know; but Miriam--" - -"It isn't the first time for Miriam, either." - -Mollie opened wide her eyes. - -"I protest, Mr. Ingelow, I didn't know you were acquainted with her at -all." - -"Which proves you are not _au fait_ of all my lady acquaintances. But, -to solve the riddle, it was Miriam who first came here and put me on -your track." - -The blue eyes opened wider. - -"You see," said Mr. Ingelow, with the air of one entering upon a story, -"she knew about your appointment that night, and was at the place of -rendezvous, all silent and unseen. She saw you go off in the carriage -with that man, and took it into her head that something was wrong. She -called at Mr. Walraven's that day, and found you were missing--no tale -nor tidings to be had of you. Then, what does she do but come to me?" - -Mr. Ingelow looked full at the young lady as he spoke, and once more -Mollie was silly enough to blush. - -"I really don't know how it was," pursued Mr. Ingelow, with provoking -deliberation, "but Madame Miriam had taken it into her head that I was -the man you had gone to meet. Extraordinary, wasn't it? She thought so, -however, and was taken all aback to find me quietly painting here." - -Mollie did not dare to look up. All her saucy _insouciance_ was gone. -Her face was burning. She felt as though it would be an infinite relief -to sink through the floor. The floor not being practicable for the -purpose, she stole a look at Mrs. Sharpe; but Mrs. Sharpe sat with the -face of a wooden figure-head, intent on the business of eating and -drinking. - -"Miriam and I had a long and confidential talk," the young artist -continued, "and came to the conclusion that Doctor Oleander was at the -bottom of the matter, and that, wherever you were, you were an unwilling -prisoner. Of course, to a gentleman of my knight-errantry, that was -sufficient to fire my blood. I put lance in rest, buckled on my armor, -mounted my prancing charger, and set off to the ogre's castle to rescue -the captive maiden! And for the rest, you know it. I came, I saw, I -conquered--Doctor Oleander!" - -"Which means," Mollie said, trying to laugh, "you imposed Mrs. Sharpe -here upon Doctor Oleander as the nurse for his purpose, and fooled him -to the top of his bent. Well, Mr. Ingelow, you have gone to a great deal -of trouble on my account, and I am very much obliged to you." - -"Is that all?" - -"Is that not enough?" - -"Hardly. I don't labor for such poor pay. As you say, I have gone to -a great deal of trouble, and lost three nights' sleep running. I want -something more than 'thank you' for all that." - -Mollie tried to laugh--all in a flutter. - -"Name your price, then, sir. Though it were half my kingdom, you shall -be paid." - -"And don't mind me, sir," suggested Mrs. Sharpe, demurely. - -"Ah! but I do mind you," said Mr. Ingelow; "and besides, the time for -payment has not yet come. Doctor Oleander's little bill must be settled -first. What do you mean to do about it, Miss Dane?" - -"Punish him to the utmost of my power." - -"And that will be pretty severe punishment, if you appeal to the laws -of our beloved country. Abductions, and forcible marriages, and illegal -imprisonment don't go for nothing, I fancy. Only, unfortunately, the -whole land will ring with your story, and your notoriety will be more -extensive than gratifying." - -Mollie made a gesture of horror. - -"Oh, stop! Not that! I should die if it were known I was Guy Oleander's -wife! I mean it, Hugh Ingelow. I should die of shame!" - -She rose impetuously from the table and walked away to one of the -windows. - -"You don't know how I abhor that man--abhor, detest, hate, loathe him! -There is no word in all the language strong enough to express my feeling -for him. Think of it, Mr. Ingelow!"--she faced around, her eyes -flashing fire--"think of tearing a bride from the very altar on her -wedding-night, and compelling her to marry a man she abhorred! You, who -are a brave man and an honorable gentleman, tell me what language is -strong enough for so dastardly a deed." - -Hugh Ingelow left his seat and faced her, very pale. Mrs. Sharpe slipped -out of the room. - -"Do you regret your broken marriage with Sir Roger Trajenna, Mollie?" - -"No--yes--no. I don't know--I don't think I do. It isn't that. I didn't -care for Sir Roger. I was mean enough and shabby enough to consent to -marry him for his wealth and title. But I was such a little fool! Sir -Roger was a thousand times too good for me, and he and I are both well -out of that matter. But that is no excuse for such a villainous deed." - -"True. Nothing can excuse it. But you must be merciful. The man loved -you passionately." - -"Mr. Ingelow," opening her eyes wild and wide, "are you pleading Doctor -Oleander's case?" - -"No, Mollie--the case of the man who loved you so madly, so recklessly, -that the thought of your being another's--another's whom you did not -love--drove him to insanity, and to the commission of an insane deed." - -"And that man was Doctor Oleander." - -"It was not!" - -"Mr. Ingelow!" - -"No, Mollie; never Guy Oleander. He hadn't the pluck. He never cared for -you enough." - -"But he did it twice." - -"Once only--this last time--stung, goaded into it by the lash of Mrs. -Walraven's waspish tongue. But he is not the man who married you, -whoever that man may be. At least," cooling down suddenly, as he saw the -full blue eyes fixed upon him with piercing intentness, "I don't believe -it." - -"What do you believe, then, Mr. Ingelow?" Mollie said, slowly and -suspiciously. - -"That when you made Miriam the confidante of your story, on a certain -night in your bedroom, Mrs. Carl Walraven overheard you." - -"Impossible!" - -"Perhaps so; but you'll find that's the way of it. She listened and -heard, and patched it up with Mr. Rashleigh's dinner-table tale, and -confabulated with her cousin, and put him up to this last dodge. She saw -your advertisement in the paper, and understood it as well as you did, -and Doctor Oleander was there in waiting. You committed one unaccountable -blunder. You appointed ten for the nocturnal interview, and were at the -place of the tryst at half past nine. How do you explain that little -circumstance?" - -"It seems to me, Mr. Ingelow," said Mollie, "that you must be a -sorcerer. How do you know all this?" - -"Partly from Miriam, partly from my own inborn ingenuity, as a Yankee, -in guessing. Please answer my question." - -"I didn't know I was before time. It was later than half past nine by my -watch when I quitted the house. I remember listening for the clocks to -strike ten as I reached Fourteenth Street." - -"You didn't hear them?" - -"No." - -"Of course not. Your watch was tampered with, and that confirms my -suspicion of Mrs. Walraven. Believe me, Mollie, a trap was laid for you, -and you were caught in it. You never met 'Black Mask' that night." - -"If I thought so!" Mollie cried, clasping her hands. - -"You will find it so," Hugh Ingelow said, very quietly. "Let that be -Doctor Oleander's punishment. Make him confess his fraud--make him -confess Mrs. Walraven aided and abetted him--to-night." - -"How can I?" - -"Simply enough. Accuse him and her before us all. There will be no one -present you can not trust. Your guardian, Sir Roger, and myself know -already. Sardonyx is Mr. Walraven's lawyer, and silence is a lawyer's -forte." - -"Well?" breathlessly. - -"Accuse him--threaten him. Tell him you know his whole fraud from first -to last. Accuse her! Tell him if he does not prove to your satisfaction -he is the man who carried you off and married you, or if he refuses to -own he is not the man, that he will go straight from the house to -prison. He knows you can fulfill the threat. I think it will succeed." - -"And if he confesses he is not the man who married me--if he -acknowledges the fraud--what then?" - -"Ah! what then? Doctor Oleander will not be your husband." - -"And I will be as much in the dark as ever." - -"A moment ago you were in despair because you thought he, of all men, was -the man," said Hugh Ingelow. "It seems to me you are hard to satisfy." - -"No," said Mollie; "if it be as you suspect, I shall be unspeakably -thankful. No fate earth can have in store for me can be half so -horrible as to know myself the wife of Guy Oleander." - -"And if I thought you were his wife, Mollie, rest assured I should never -have taken you from him," said Mr. Ingelow, decidedly. "You are no more -Guy Oleander's wife than I am." - -"Heaven be praised for that!" Mollie cried. "But then, I am entirely in -the dark. Whose wife am I?" - -Mr. Ingelow smiled. - -"That question has an extraordinary sound. One doesn't hear it often in -a life-time. If I were a sorcerer, as you accuse me of being, I might -perhaps answer it. As it is, I leave it to your own woman's wit to -discover." - -"My woman's wit is completely at a loss," said Mollie, despairingly. "If -ever I do find out, and I think it likely I shall, the divorce law will -set me free. I must tell guardy all, and get him to help me." - -"Is there no one you suspect?" - -"Not one--now," Mollie replied, turning away from him. - -How could Mollie Dane tell him she had ever suspected, ever hoped, it -might be himself? It was evidently a matter of very little moment to him. - -"And you can not forgive the love that resorts to such extreme measures, -Mollie?" he asked, after a pause. - -"No more than I can forgive Doctor Oleander for carrying me off and -holding me captive in his dreary farmhouse," answered Mollie, steadily. -"No, Mr. Ingelow, I will never forgive the man who married me against my -will." - -"Not even if you cared a little for him, Mollie?" - -He asked the question hesitatingly, as if he had something at stake in -the answer. And Mollie's eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed angry red -as she heard it. - -"I care for no one in that way, Mr. Ingelow," she said, in a ringing -voice. "You ought to know that. If I did, I should hate him for his -dastardly deed." - -Dead silence fell. Mollie stood looking down at the bustle of Broadway -at one window, Mr. Ingelow at the other. He was pale--she flushed -indignant red. She was grieved, and hurt, and cruelly mortified. She had -found out how dearly she loved him, only to find out with it he was -absolutely indifferent to her; he was ready to plead another man's -cause, yield her up to her bolder lover. - -She could have cried with disappointment and mortification, and crying -was not at all in Mollie's line. Never until now had she given up the -hope that he still loved her. - -"It serves me right, I dare say," she thought, bitterly. "I have been -a flirt and a triller, and I refused him cruelly, heartlessly, for that -old man. Oh! if the past could be but undone, what a happy, happy -creature I should be!" - -The oppressive silence lasted until Mrs. Sharpe re-entered with some -needle-work. Then Mr. Ingelow rose and looked at his watch. - -"I believe I'll take a stroll down Broadway," he said, a little coldly. -"Your friend Miriam will probably be here before I return. If not, there -are books yonder with which to beguile the time." - -Mollie bowed, proudly silent, and Mr. Ingelow left the room for his -morning constitutional. Miss Dane walked over, took a book, opened it, -and held it before her face a full hour without turning a leaf. The face -it screened looked darkly bitter and overcast. She was free from prison, -only to find herself in a worse captivity--fettered by a love that could -meet with no return. - -The bright morning wore on; noon came. Two o'clock brought dinner and -Mr. Ingelow, breezy from his walk. - -"What!" he exclaimed, looking round, "no Miriam?" - -"No Miriam," said Mollie, laying down her book. "Mrs. Sharpe and I have -been quite alone--she sewing, I reading." - -Mrs. Sharpe smiled to herself. She had been watching the young lady, and -surmised how much she had read. - -"Why, that's odd, too," Mr. Ingelow said. "She promised to be here this -morning, and Miriam keeps her promises, I think. However, the afternoon -may bring her. And now for dinner, mesdames." - -But the afternoon did not bring her. The hours wore on--Mr. Ingelow -at his easel, Mollie with her book, Susan Sharpe with her needle, -conversation desultory and lagging. - -Since the morning a restraint had fallen between the knight-errant and -the rescued lady--a restraint Mollie saw clearly enough, but could not -properly understand. - -Evening came. Twilight, hazy and blue, fell like a silvery veil over the -city, and the street-lamps twinkled through it like stars. - -Mr. Ingelow in an inner room had made his toilet, and stood before -Mollie, hat in hand, ready to depart for the Walraven mansion. - -"Remain here another half hour," he was saying; "then follow and strike -the conspirators dumb. It will be better than a melodrama. I saw -Oleander to-day, and I know information of your escape has not yet -reached him. You had better enter the house by the most private -entrance, so that, all unknown, you can appear before us and scare -us out of a year's growth." - -"I know how to get in," said Mollie. "Trust me to play my part." - -Mr. Ingelow departed, full of delightful anticipations of the fun to -come. He found all the guests assembled before him. It was quite a -select little family party, and Mr. Walraven and Sir Roger Trajenna -were in a state of despondent gloom that had become chronic of late. - -Mollie, the apple of their eye, their treasure, their darling, was not -present, and the whole universe held nothing to compensate them for her -loss. - -Mrs. Walraven, superbly attired, and looking more like Queen Cleopatra -than ever, with, a circlet of red gold in her blue-black hair, and her -polished shoulders and arms gleaming like ivory against bronze in her -golden-brown silk, presided like an empress. She was quite radiant -to-night, and so was Dr. Guy. All their plans had succeeded admirably. -Mollie was absolutely in their power. This time to-morrow scores of -broad sea miles would roll between her and New York. - -The conversation turned upon her ere they had been a quarter of an hour -at table. Mr. Walraven never could leave the subject uppermost in his -thoughts for long. - -"It is altogether extraordinary," Sir Roger Trajenna said, slowly. -"The first absence was unaccountable enough, but this second is more -unaccountable still. Some enemy is at the bottom." - -"Surely Miss Dane could have no enemies," said Hugh Ingelow. "We all -know how amiable and lovable she was." - -"Lovable, certainly. We know that," remarked Sardonyx, with a grim -smile. - -"And I adhere to my former opinion," said Dr. Oleander, with consummate -coolness--"that Miss Mollie is playing tricks on her friends, to try -their affection. We know what a tricksy sprite she is. Believe me, both -absences were practical jokes. She has disappeared of her own free will. -It was very well in the Dark Ages--this abducting young ladies and -carrying them off to castle-keeps--but it won't do in New York, in the -present year of grace." - -"My opinion precisely, Guy," chimed in his fair cousin. "Mollie likes to -create sensations. Her first absence set the avenue on the _qui vive_ -and made her a heroine, so she is resolved to try it again. If people -would be guided by me," glancing significantly at her husband, "they -would cease to worry themselves about her, and let her return at her own -good pleasure, as she went." - -"Yes, Mr. Walraven," said Dr. Oleander, flushed and triumphant, "Blanche -is right. It is useless to trouble yourself so much about it. Of her own -accord she will come back, and you may safely swear of her own accord -she went." - -"Guy Oleander, you lie!" - -The voice rang silver-sweet, clear as a bugle-blast, through the room. -All sprung to their feet. - -"Ah-h-h-h-h!" - -The wordless cry of affright came from Mrs. Carl Walraven. Dr. Oleander -stood paralyzed, his eyes starting from their sockets, his face like the -face of a dead man. - -And there in the door-way, like a picture in a frame, like a Saxon -pythoness, her golden hair falling theatrically loose, her arm upraised, -her face pale, her eyes flashing, stood Mollie. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -MOLLIE'S TRIUMPH. - - -The tableau was magnificent. - -There was a dead pause of unutterable consternation. All stood rooted to -the spot with staring eyes and open mouths. Before the first electric -charge had subsided, Mollie Dane advanced and walked straight up to the -confounded doctor, confronting him with eyes that literally blazed. - -"Liar! traitor! coward! Whose turn is it now?" - -Dr. Oleander fairly gasped for breath. The awful suddenness of the blow -stunned him. He could not speak--he made the attempt, but his white lips -failed him. - -"Before all here," cried Mollie Dane, arm and hand still upraised with -an action indescribably grand, "I accuse you, Guy Oleander, of high -felony! I accuse you of forcibly tearing me from my home, of forcibly -holding me a prisoner for nearly two weeks, and of intending to carry me -off by force to-morrow to Cuba. And you, madame," turning suddenly as -lightning strikes upon Mrs. Carl, "you, madame, I accuse as his aider -and abettor." - -There was another horrible pause. Even Hugh Ingelow thrilled through -every vein. - -Then Carl Walraven found voice: - -"For God's sake, Mollie, what does this mean?" - -Mollie turned to him and held out both hands. - -"It means, guardy, that but for the direct interposition of Providence -you never would have seen your poor little Cricket again." - -And at last Dr. Oleander found his voice. - -"That infernal nurse!" he cried between his set teeth. Mollie heard the -hissing words and turned upon him like a pale little fury. - -"Yes, Guy Oleander, the nurse played you false--fooled you to your face -from the first. Came down from New York for no other purpose than to -rescue me. And here I am, safe and sound, in spite of you; and the -tables are turned, and you are in my power now. Out of this house you -never stir except to go to prison." - -"Mollie! Mollie! Mollie!" Mr. Carl Walraven cried in desperation, "for -the Lord's sake, what do you mean? What has Doctor Oleander done?" - -"Carried me off, I tell you--forcibly abducted me. Held me a prisoner -for the last two weeks in a desolate old farmhouse over on Long -Island. Look at him. Was ever guilt more plainly written on human face? -Let him deny it if he can--or you, madame, his accomplice, either." - -"I do deny it," Mme. Blanche exclaimed, boldly. "Mollie Dane, you are -mad." - -"You will find to your cost there is method in my madness, Mrs. -Walraven. What say you, Doctor Oleander? Have you the hardihood to -face me with a deliberate lie, too?" - -Dr. Oleander was not deficient in a certain dog-like courage and daring. -He saw his position in a moment--saw that denial would be utterly -useless. His own mother would prove against him it if came to law. - -There was but one avenue of escape for him--he saw it like a flash of -light. Mollie would not dare publish this story of hers for her own -sake, and neither would Carl Walraven for his wife's. - -"He does not deny it!" cried Mollie. "He dare not. Look at his changing -face. He carried me off and held me a prisoner in his mother's house, -and gave out I was mad. And that is not the worst he has done. I might -overlook that, now that I have safely escaped--" - -Dr. Oleander suddenly interrupted her. - -"That is the very worst--and you dare not publish it, even to punish -me." - -"What!" exclaimed the young lady, "do you deny your other tenfold -greater crime--the compulsory marriage performed by the Reverend Raymond -Rashleigh? Oh, if there be law or justice in the whole country, you -shall suffer for that!" - -"I do deny it," said the doctor, boldly. "You are no wife of mine by -compulsion or otherwise. That story was trumped up to deceive you the -second time." - -Mollie's heart gave one great throb, and then seemed to stand still. - -Mrs. Walraven turned, ghastly with fear and rage, upon her cousin. - -"Guy Oleander, are you mad? What are you saying?" - -"The truth, Blanche. It is too late for any other alternative now. Don't -fear--Mr. Walraven will hardly allow his ward to prosecute his wife." - -"Traitor and coward!" Blanche Walraven cried in fierce scorn. "I wish my -tongue had blistered with the words that urged you on." - -"I wish it had," returned the doctor, coolly. "I wish, as I often have -wished since, that I had never listened to your tempting. It was your -fault, not mine, from first to last." - -It was the old story of Adam and Eve over again: "The woman tempted me, -and I did eat." - -"'When rogues fall out, honest men get their own.' You mean to say, -Doctor Oleander, that Mrs. Walraven instigated you on?" - -"How else should I know?" answered the doctor. "She overheard you -telling the woman Miriam, in your chamber, the whole story. She saw and -understood your advertisement and its answer. She concocted the whole -scheme, even to advancing the hands of your watch half an hour. If the -law punishes me, Miss Dane, it must also punish your guardian's wife." - -"Coward! coward!" Blanche furiously cried. "Oh, basest of the base! If I -only had the power to strike you dead at my feet!" - -The doctor bore the onslaught quietly enough. - -"Heroics are all very well, Blanche," he said; "but self-preservation is -the first law of nature. Confession is the only avenue of escape, and I -have taken it. Besides, justice is justice. You deserve it. You goaded -me on. It was your fault from beginning to end." - -"And you own, then, you are not the man who carried me off before?" said -Mollie. "You are not the man Mr. Rashleigh married?" - -"I swear I'm not!" cried the doctor, with an earnestness there was no -mistaking. "And I'm very thankful I'm not. I wouldn't lead the life I've -led for the past two weeks for all the women alive. I'm glad you're -here, and that the whole thing is knocked in the head." - -He spoke with the dogged recklessness of a man goaded to desperation. -Mollie turned again to her guardian and laid her face on his shoulder. - -"Send that man away, guardy. His presence in the room turns me sick to -death." - -"I am going, Miss Dane," said Dr. Oleander, turning moodily to the door, -"and I shall not go to Cuba. I shall not quit New York. Let you or your -guardian prosecute me if you dare!" - -He stalked out with the last words. No one moved or spoke until the -house-door banged after him. - -Then Mme. Blanche, seeing all was lost, gave one horrible scream, -clasped her hands over her head, and fell back in violent hysterics. - -"Ring for her maid, guardy," said Mollie. "You had best take her up to -her room. Sir Roger, Mr. Ingelow, please to remain. Mr. Sardonyx, excuse -me, but you have heard all that it is necessary you should hear." - -The lawyer became angry-red, but turned at once to go. - -"I have no wish to pry into your very extraordinary secrets or -escapades, Miss Dane," he said, haughtily. "Permit me to wish you -good-evening." - -Mr. Sardonyx departed. Mr. Walraven saw his wife safely conveyed to -her room and left in charge of her maid, and then returned to the -dining-room. - -Mollie's first act was to hold out both hands, with infinite grace and -courtesy, to Hugh Ingelow. - -"Mr. Ingelow, words are poor and weak to tell you how I thank you. I -have not deserved it from you. I can only ask you to try and forgive -me." - -The young artist lifted the fair little hands to his lips. - -"I am repaid ten thousand-fold," he said, quietly. "I would give my life -to serve you." - -"In the name of Heaven, Mollie," cried the nearly frantic master of the -house, "what does all this extraordinary mystery mean?" - -"It means that a terrible crime has been committed, guardy," Mollie -replied, gravely, "and that your wife and her cousin are among the chief -conspirators. Sit down and I will tell you the whole story. Sir Roger -Trajenna, likewise. I owe you both a full explanation. Mr. Ingelow -knows already." - -She sat down before them, and beginning at the beginning, told them the -whole story--her forced and mysterious marriage and its very unpleasant -sequel. - -"That I ever escaped," she concluded, "I owe, under Providence, to Mr. -Ingelow. Guardy, I would have spared you if I could; but, you see, it -was impossible. Of course, we won't prosecute your wife or her cousin. -I am almost satisfied, now, that I know I am not Guy Oleander's wretched -wife." - -"But, heavens above, Mollie Dane!" cried the bewildered Mr. Walraven, -"whose wife are you?" - -"Ah, guardy, I would give a great deal to know that." - -"Whom do you suspect?" - -"I suspect no one now." - -There was a shade of sadness in her tone, and her eyes wandered -wistfully over to the young artist. - -"Upon my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Walraven, "I never heard or read of -the like. It's perfectly astounding. Did you ever hear anything so -extraordinary, Sir Roger?" - -The baronet had been sitting like a man stunned by a blow. Now he turned -his eyes from Mollie's for the first time, and tried to speak. - -"I am utterly bewildered," he said. "The whole story sounds like an -impossibility--incredible as a fairy tale." - -"It is quite true, nevertheless," said Mollie. - -"And you are a wedded wife?" - -"I am." - -"You're nothing of the sort!" burst out Carl Walraven. "You're -free--free as air. It would be outrageous, it would be monstrous, to let -such a marriage bind you. You are free to wed to-morrow if you choose; -and let the villain come forward and dispute the marriage if he dare!" - -"He speaks the truth," said Sir Roger, eagerly. "Such a marriage is no -marriage. You are as free as you were before, Mollie." - -"Perhaps so," said Mollie, calmly. "Nevertheless, I shall never marry." - -"Never?" - -It was Sir Roger's despairing voice. - -"Never, Sir Roger. I never was worthy of you. I would be the basest -of the base to marry you now. No; what I am to-night I will go to my -grave." - -She stole a glance at Hugh Ingelow, but the sphinx was never more -unreadable than he. He caught her glance, however, and calmly spoke. - -"And now, as Miss Mollie has had a fatiguing journey lately, and as she -needs rest, we had better allow her to retire. Good-night." - -He had bowed and reached the door ere the voice of Carl Walraven -arrested him. - -"This very unpleasant business, Mr. Ingelow--Sir Roger," he said, with -evident embarrassment, "in which Mrs. Walraven is concerned--" - -"Will be as though it had never been, Mr. Walraven," Hugh Ingelow said, -gravely. "Once more--good-night." - -He quitted the room. - -Sir Roger Trajenna turned to follow, a sad, crushed old man. - -Mollie shyly and wistfully held out her hand. - -"Try and forget me, Sir Roger--try and forgive me. I have been a -foolish, flighty girl; I am sorry for it. I can say no more." - -"No more!" Sir Roger said, with emotion, kissing the little hand. "God -bless you!" - -He, too, was gone. - -Then Mollie turned and put her arms round her guardian's neck. - -"Dear old guardy, I am sorry for you. Oh, I wish you had never married -that hateful Blanche Oleander, but lived free and happy with your mother -and your Mollie. But it's too late now; you must forgive her, I suppose. -I detest her like the mischief; but we must all keep the peace." - -"I suppose so, Mollie," with a dreary sigh. "You can't wish I had never -married more than I do. It's a righteous punishment upon me, I suppose. -I've been the greatest villain unhung to the only woman who ever did -love me, and now this is retribution." - -He groaned dismally as he rose and kissed Mollie good-night. - -"Go to your room, Mollie, and let us forget, if we can." - -"Ah!" said Mollie, "if we can. Guardy, good-night." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -MIRIAM'S MESSAGE. - - -Next morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Walraven did not appear. She was very -ill and feverish, her maid reported, and quite unable to leave her bed. - -Mr. Carl Walraven heard this sad account of his wife's health with a -grimly fixed countenance. He looked as though he had passed a restless -night himself, and looked worn and haggard and hollow-eyed in the bright -morning sunshine. - -Mollie, on the other hand, was blooming and brilliant as the goddess -Hebe. Past troubles sat lightly on buoyant Mollie as dew-drops on a -rose. She looked rather anxiously at her guardian as the girl quitted -the breakfast-room. - -"You didn't mention Blanche's illness, guardy. Tea or chocolate this -morning?" - -"A cup of tea. I didn't mention her illness because I wasn't aware of -it. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing Madame Blanche since we parted -in the dining-room last night." - -"Indeed!" said Mollie, stirring her chocolate slowly. - -"And what's more," pursued the master of the house, "I don't care if I -never see her again." - -"Dear me, guardy! Strong language, isn't it?" - -"It is truthful language, Mollie. Sleeping on a thing sometimes alters -its complexion materially. Last evening I concluded to let things blow -over and keep up appearances before the world. This morning I am -resolved to let the world go hang, and teach one of the conspirators -a lesson she won't forget in a hurry." - -Mollie looked alarmed. - -"Not a divorce, guardy? Surely not the public scandal of a divorce? All -must come out then." - -"Not quite a divorce," Mr. Walraven said, coolly; "its next-door -neighbor. A quiet, gentlemanly, and lady-like separation." - -"Guardy Walraven," said Miss Dane, solemnly, "don't do anything rash." - -"I don't intend to. I've thought the matter well over. Didn't get a wink -of sleep last night for it. We won't break our hearts"--with a cynical -sneer--"myself nor my gentle Blanche. I don't know why we married, -exactly. Certainly not for love, and we will part without a pang." - -"Speak for yourself, guardy. I dare say Blanche will be frantic." - -"Frantic at leaving a house on Fifth Avenue--frantic at leaving you -mistress in her place--frantic that she can't be my blooming young -widow--frantic at all that, I grant you." - -"Guardy, don't be dreadful," adjured Mollie, pathetically. "If I can -forgive Blanche, I'm sure you may." - -"No, Mollie, I can not. She has deceived me basely, wickedly. More--I -dare not." - -"Dare not. Now, Mr. Walraven--" - -"Hear me out, Mollie. A woman who would concoct such a villainous plot -would stop at nothing. Abduction would be followed by murder. I would -not trust her from henceforth on her Bible oath. My life is not safe -while she remains in this house." - -"Guardy! guardy! how can you say such horrible things? Commit murder? -You know very well she would not dare." - -"Wives dare it every week if the public journals speak the truth. I tell -you I would not trust her. There is Guy Oleander, a toxicologist by -profession--what more easy than for him to supply her with some subtle -drug, and call it catalepsy, a congestion, a disease of the heart? I -tell you, Mollie, after finding them out, my life would not be worth a -fillip in their hands. I could as easily live with a female gorilla as -with Blanche Oleander." - -"Well," said Mollie, looking a little startled, "if you feel like that, -of course--When do you propose--" - -She paused. - -"I shall lose no time. I shall see Mrs. Walraven immediately after -breakfast." - -"But she is ill." - -"Bosh! She's shamming. She's afraid to show her wicked, plotting face. -She's lying there to concoct some new villainy. I won't spare her--she -didn't spare you. I'll send her packing, bag and baggage, before the -week's out." - -"And if she refuses to go, guardy?" - -"Then," cried Mr. Walraven, with flashing eyes, "I'll make her go. I'll -have a divorce, by Heaven! She'll find she can't commit high felonies in -this enlightened age and go unpunished. I'd see her boiled alive before -I'd ever live with her again." - -With which spirited declaration Mr. Walraven finished his breakfast and -arose. His first proceeding was to ring the bell violently. One of the -kitchen damsels answered. - -"Go to Mrs. Walraven's room and tell her Mr. Walraven is coming to see -her." - -The girl, looking rather surprised, hastened to obey. - -Mr. Walraven took a turn or two up and down the room, "nursing his wrath -to keep it warm." - -"The more I think of this infernal business, Mollie," he burst out, "the -more enraged I get. If Doctor Oleander was so madly in love with you -that he carried you off to prevent your marrying any one else, one -might find some excuse for him. Love, we all know, is a 'short-lived -madness.' But for her, a woman, to invent that diabolical scheme in cold -blood, simply because she hated you! Oh, it was the work of an accursed -harridan, and never to be forgiven!" - -He strode from the room as he spoke, his face and eyes aflame, and -stalked straight to the sleeping-room of Mme. Blanche. One loud rap; -then, before the attendant could open it he had flung it wide, and he -was standing, stern as Rhadamauthus, above the cowering woman in the bed. - -"Do you leave the room!" he exclaimed, turning savagely upon the girl; -"and mind, no eavesdropping, if you have any regard for whole bones. Be -off!" - -The frightened girl scampered at once. Mr. Walraven closed the door, -locked it, strode back, and stood glaring down upon his wife with folded -arms and fiercely shining eyes. - -"Well, madame?" - -"Spare me, Carl." She held up her arms in dire affright. "Forgive me, my -husband." - -"Never!" thundered Carl Walraven--"never! you base, plotting Jezebel! -The fate you allotted to Mollie Dane shall fall upon yourself. You shall -quit this house before the week ends, never to return to it more." - -"Carl! Husband--" - -"Silence, madame! No husband of yours, either now or at any future time! -This shall be our last interview. We part to-day to meet no more." - -"Carl! Carl! for pity's sake, hear me." - -"Not a word, not a syllable. All the excuses in the world would not -excuse you. I never loved you--now I hate you. After this hour I never -want to look upon your wicked white face again." - -Blanche Walraven's spirit rose with the insult. She flung down the -clothes and sat erect in bed, her black eyes flashing. - -"Be it so! You never loved me less than I did you! You can not hate me -more than I hate you! But, for all that, I won't go!" - -"You shall go--and that within this week!" - -"I tell you I won't! I dare you! Do your worst!" - -"Do you, madame? Then, by Heaven, I accept your challenge! The law of -divorce shall set me free from the vilest wife man ever was cursed with!" - -She gave a gasping cry, her face ghastly white. - -"Carl Walraven, you would not dare!" - -"Would I not?" with a harsh laugh. "We shall see. You don't know what -Carl Walraven is capable of yet, I see." - -"Wait! wait! wait!" Blanche screamed after him, in mortal terror. "Tell -me what you came here to propose." - -"A separation, madame--quietly, without _éclat_ or public scandal. -Accept or refuse, as you please." - -"What are your terms?" sullenly. - -"More liberal than you deserve. An annuity larger than anything you ever -had before you married me, a house up the Hudson, and your promise never -to return to New York. With my death, the annuity will cease, and you -will be penniless. I don't choose to be put out of the way by you or -your poisoning cousin." - -Blanche Walraven's eyes flashed fury. - -"You are a merciless, iron-hearted man, Carl Walraven, and I hate you! -I close with your terms, because I can not help myself; but I'll have -revenge yet!" - -"And the very first attempt you make," said Mr. Walraven, coolly, "I'll -hand you over to the law as I would the commonest vagrant that prowls -the streets. Don't think to intimidate me, my lady, with your tragedy -airs and fiery glances. Mr. Sardonyx will wait upon you this afternoon. -If you can make it convenient to leave to-morrow, you will very much -oblige me." - -His last words were almost lost. Mrs. Walraven, with a hysterical -scream, had fallen back among the pillows in strong convulsions. He just -stopped to give one backward glance of pitiless loathing, then rang for -her maid and left the room. - -And so parted the ill-assorted husband and wife to meet no more. So -ended one mercenary marriage. - -Carl Walraven went down-stairs, and found Mollie uneasily awaiting him. - -"It's all settled, Mollie," he said. "You are the little mistress of the -house from this day forward, until"--looking at her earnestly--"you get -married." - -Mollie reddened and shook her head. - -"I shall never get married, guardy." - -"No? Not even to Hugh Ingelow?" - -"Least of all to Hugh Ingelow. Don't let us talk about it, guardy. What -did Mrs. Walraven say?" - -"More than I care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk about Mrs. Walraven, -either." - -"But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?" - -"I really and truly am. She goes to-morrow. Now, Mollie Dane, there's -no need for you to wear that pleading face. She goes--that's flat! I -wouldn't live in the same house with her now for a kingdom. If you say -another word about it we'll quarrel." - -He strode off like a sulky lion, and Mollie, feeling as though it were -all her fault, was left disconsolate and uncomfortable enough. - -"I had rather they had made it up," she thought. "I don't want to be the -cause of parting man and wife. She behaved atrociously, no doubt, and -deserves punishment; but I wish the punishment had fallen on the man, -not the woman. It's a shame to make her suffer and let that horrible -doctor off scot-free." - -Mr. Walraven, in his study, meantime, had written a letter to Lawyer -Sardonyx, detailing in brief his wishes, and requesting him to call upon -Mrs. Walraven in the course of the day. That done, he quitted the house, -determined to return no more until she had left. - -The afternoon brought Hugh Ingelow. Mollie was alone in her room, having -a very anxious time; but when his name was announced, she dropped the -book she was trying to read and made a headlong rush down-stairs. If -Hugh Ingelow had seen the rosy light that leaped into her cheeks, the -glad sparkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, he could -hardly have been insensible to their flattering import. - -Mr. Ingelow congratulated her on her bright looks as he shook hands. - -"I never saw you looking better," he said, with earnest admiration. - -"Looks are deceitful, then," said Mollie, shaking her early head -dolefully. "I don't think I ever felt worse, even when cooped up in -Doctor Oleander's prison." - -"Really! What has gone wrong now?" the artist inquired. - -"Everything dreadful! The most shocking tempests in tea-pots. Guardy is -going to separate from his wife!" - -"Indeed!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "The very best thing he could do." - -"Oh, Mr. Ingelow!" - -"Quite true, Mollie. She's a Tartar, if ever there was a Tartar. He -committed a terrible act of folly when he married her; let him show his -return to wisdom by sending her adrift. I don't pity her in the least. -If he forgave her this time, she would simply despise him, and begin her -machinations all over again." - -"No! Do you think so? Then I'm not to blame?" - -"You!" Mr. Ingelow laughed. "I should think not, indeed! Set that tender -little heart of yours at rest, Mollie. Blanche Walraven is big and -fierce, and able to take care of herself. Let us get rid of her -quietly; if we can, and be thankful." - -"Mr. Sardonyx is with her now," said Mollie, "arranging matters. Oh, -dear! I can't help feeling nervous and troubled about it. It's not fair -to punish her and let Doctor Oleander go off scot-free." - -"His punishment is his detection and your loss, Mollie. I can think of -no heavier punishment than that. I met him, by the bye, in Broadway, as -large as life, and as impudent as the gentleman with the cloven foot. He -bowed, and I stared, and cut him dead, of course." - -Before Mollie could speak, the door-bell rang. A moment later and there -was the sound of an altercation in the hall. - -"You can't see Miss Dane, you ragamuffin!" exclaimed the mellifluous -tones of footman Wilson. "You hadn't oughter ring the door-bell! The -airy's for such as you!" - -"It is Miriam!" cried Mollie, running to the door. "It is surely Miriam -at last!" - -But it was not Miriam. It was a dirty-faced boy--a tatter-demalion of -fourteen years--with sharp, knowing black eyes. Those intelligent orbs -fixed on the young lady at once. - -"Be you Miss Dane--Miss Mollie Dane--miss?" - -"Yes," said Mollie. "Who are you?" - -"Sammy Slimmens, miss. Miss Miriam sent me, miss--she did." - -"Miriam? Are you sure? Why didn't she come herself?" - -"Couldn't, miss," nodding sagaciously. "She's very bad, she is. Got -runned over, miss." - -"Run over!" Mollie cried, in horror. - -"Corner Fulton Street, miss, and Broadway. Yesterday morning 'twas. I -told the policeman where she lived, and he fetched her home. Won't live, -they say, and she's sent for you. Got something very 'ticular to tell -you, miss." - -"I will go at once," Mollie said, unutterably distressed. "My poor -Miriam! I might have known something had happened, or she would have -been here before this." - -She flew upstairs and was back again, dressed for the street, in ten -minutes. - -"Permit me to accompany you, Miss Dane," said Hugh Ingelow, stepping -forward. "You have been entrapped before. We will be on our guard this -time. Now, my man," to the hero of the rags and tatters, "lead on; we -follow." - -The boy darted away, and Mr. Ingelow with Mollie's hand drawn through -his arm, set off after him at a rapid rate. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -MIRIAM'S STORY. - - -A miserable attic chamber, dimly lighted by one dirty sky-light, a -miserable bed in one corner, a broken chair, an old wooden chest, a -rickety table, a few articles of delf, a tumble-down little cook-stove. - -That was the picture Mollie Dane saw, standing on the threshold of -Miriam's room. - -There was no deception this time. On that wretched bed lay the broken -and bruised figure of the woman Miriam, dying. - -Her deep, labored breathing was painfully audible, even outside the -room; her strong chest rose and fell--every breath torture. - -By her side sat the mother of the ragged boy, holding a drink to her -lips, and coaxing her to open her mouth and try to swallow. - -In vivid contrast to all this poverty and abject wretchedness, the young -girl in the door-way stood, with her fair, blooming face, her fluttering -golden ringlets, her rich silken garments, and elegant air. - -The woman by the bed turned round and stared for a moment; then-- - -"Be you the young lady as Mrs. Miriam sent my Sammy for?" she asked. - -"Yes," said Mollie, coming forward. "How is she?" - -"Bad as bad can be, miss. Won't never see another day, the doctor says." - -"My poor Miriam--my poor Miriam!" - -The slow tears gathered in her eyes as she bent above her and saw the -pinched, sharpened face, with the blue tinge of coming death already -dawning there. - -"Be you a relation?" the woman asked, curiously. But Mollie did not -answer--she was stooping over the sick woman, absorbed. - -"Miriam!" she said, softly, taking the skinny hand in both her -own--"Miriam, look up! Speak to me. It is I--your own Mollie." - -The sound of that beloved voice penetrated the death fog already -blurring every faculty. The dulled eyes opened with a sudden, joyful -light of recognition. - -"Mollie," she said, "my dear little Mollie. I knew you would come." - -"I am very, very sorry to see you like this, Miriam. Do you suffer much -pain?" - -"Not now--only a dull aching from head to foot. But even that will soon -be over. I am glad. My life has been nothing for the past sixteen years -but one long torment. I am glad it is so nearly done. Mollie," fixing -her haggard eyes solemnly on her face, "you know I will never see -another sunrise." - -"My poor, poor Miriam!" - -"Are you sorry for poor Miriam, Mollie?" - -"Sorrier than sorry! What other relative have I in the wide world but -you?" - -"Not one, Mollie. But I am a relative you need hardly grieve for. I have -been a bad, cruel woman--the worst woman that ever lived to you, my poor -little girl!" - -"Miriam!" - -"Ah! don't look at me with those innocent, wondering blue eyes! You -shall know all. I can't die with my story untold, my secret unrevealed. -Mrs. Slimmens, I have something very particular to say to this young -lady. Please to leave us alone." - -The woman, with a disappointed look, rose up and quitted the room. - -Mollie drew up the only chair and seated herself by the bedside. - -"Did you come here alone?" was Miriam's first question, when they were -together. - -"No," said Mollie, coloring slightly. "Mr. Ingelow came with me. He is -waiting below." - -"That is well. It is growing late, and the neighborhood is not a good -one. He saved you, did he not?" - -"He did. I owe him my life--my liberty." - -"I knew he would--I knew he would! I trusted him from the first Mollie, -do you know why I sent for you in my dying hour?" - -"To tell me who I am." - -"Yes--you would like to know?" - -"More than anything else in the wide world." - -"And have you no idea--no suspicion?" - -Mollie hesitated. - -"I have sometimes thought," reddening painfully, "that I might be Mr. -Walraven's daughter." - -"Ah!" said Miriam, her eyes lighting; "and he thinks so, too!" - -"Miriam!" - -"Yes," said Miriam, exultingly, "he thinks so--he believes so, and so -does his wife. But for all that, not one drop of his blood flows in your -veins!" - -"Miriam!" - -"Not one drop! If there did, you should not now be standing by my death -bed. I would expire unrepenting and unconfessed. Mollie, you are -mine--my very own--my daughter!" - -She raised herself on her elbow and caught Mollie in her arms with a -sudden, fierce strength. The girl stood perfectly speechless with the -shock. - -"My child--my child--my child! For years I have hungered and thirsted -for this hour. I have desired it as the blind desire sight. My child--my -child! have you no word for your dying mother?" - -"Mother!" - -The word broke from Mollie's white lips like a sobbing sigh. The intense -surprise of the unexpected revelation stunned her. - -"You believe me, then--you do believe me!" Miriam cried, holding her -fast. - -"You are dying," was Mollie's solemn answer. "Oh, my mother! why did you -not tell me this before?" - -"Because I would not disgrace you and drag you down. I loved you far too -well for that. I could have done nothing for you but bespatter you with -the mire in which I wallowed, and I wanted you, my beautiful one--my -pearl, my lily--to be spotless as mountain snow. It can do you no harm -to know when I am dead." - -"And Carl Walraven is nothing to me?" - -"Nothing, Mollie--less than nothing. Not one drop of his black blood -flows in your veins. Are you sorry, Mollie?" - -"No," said Mollie, drawing a long breath. "No!" she repeated, more -decidedly. "I am glad, Miriam--mother." - -"You can call me mother, then, despite all?" - -"Surely," Mollie said, gravely; "and now tell me all." - -"Ah, it is a long, sad story--a wicked and miserable story of shame, and -sin, and suffering! It is a cruel thing to blight your young life with -the record of such horrible things." - -"I may surely bear what others have to endure. But, Miriam, before you -begin, do you really mean to tell me Mr. Walraven thinks me his -daughter?" - -"He believes it as surely as he believes in Heaven. He thinks you are -his child--Mary Dane's daughter." - -"Who was Mary Dane?" - -"Your father's sister by marriage--done to death by Carl Walraven." - -Mollie turned very pale. - -"Tell me all," she said. "Begin at the beginning. Here, drink this--it -is wine." - -She had brought a pocket-flask with her. She filled a broken tea-cup and -held it to the dry, parched lips. - -Miriam drained it eagerly. - -"Ah!" she said, "that is new life! Sit down here by me, Mollie, where I -can see you; give me your hands. Now listen: - -"Mollie, you are eighteen years old, though neither you nor Carl -Walraven thinks so. You are eighteen this very month. His child, whom -he thinks you are, would be almost seventeen, if alive. She died when -a babe of two years old. - -"Eighteen years ago, Mollie, I was a happy wife and mother. Down in -Devonshire, in the little village of Steeple Hill, my husband and I -lived, where we had both been born, where we had courted and married, -where we hoped to lay our bones at last. Alas and alas! he fills a -bloody grave in the land of strangers, and I am drawing my last breath -in far America. And all, Mollie--all owing to Carl Walraven." - -She paused a moment. The girl held the cup of wine to her lips. A few -swallows revived her, and enabled her to go on. - -"There were two brothers, James and Stephen Dane. James, the elder by -six years, was my husband and your father. We lived in the old Dane -homestead--we three--a happy and prosperous household. We needed but -your coming, my daughter, to fill our cup of joy to the very brim. No -woman in all broad England was a happier wife and mother than Miriam -Dane when you were laid upon my breast. - -"We named our baby-girl Miriam--your father would have it so--and you -grew healthful and beautiful, fair and blue-eyed, as it is in the nature -of the Danes to be. I was glad you had not my black eyes and gypsy skin. -I think I loved you all the more because you were your father's image. - -"Ah, Mollie, I never can tell you what a blessed, peaceful household -we were until you were three months old! Then the first change took -place--Stephen Dane got married. - -"At Wortley Manor, just without the confines of Steeple Hill, lived Sir -John Wortley and his lady. They had come to spend the hot months down in -the country, and my lady had brought with her a London lady's-maid, full -of London airs and graces, styles and fashions. She was a pretty girl, -this buxom Mary Linton, with flaxen curls, and light blue eyes, and a -skin white as milk and soft as satin. She could sing like an angel, and -dance like a fairy, and dress and talk like my lady herself. - -"Of course, before she had been a month in the place, she had turned the -heads of all the young fellows in the village, Stephen Dane's among the -rest. But while she coquetted with all, she smiled most sweetly on -Stephen, with his three hundred pounds laid by in bank, his broad -shoulders, his lofty stature and his hearty looks. Three months after -she came to Wortley Manor, she was Stephen Dane's wife. - -"That marriage was the beginning of all the trouble, Mollie. They left -the farm, this young pair, and set up a public-house. A public suited -Mary Dane to the life. She flaunted in gay dresses and bright ribbons, -and gossiped over the bar with the customers, and had all the news of -the place put at her tongue's end. And Stephen, he took to drink--a -little, at first, to be jovial with the customers; more and more -gradually, until, at the end of the honey-moon, he was half his time -on the fuddle. And Mary Dane didn't care. She laughed in her pretty -way when people talked. - -"'Let him take his glass, Mariam,' says she to me. 'He's fonder of me in -his cups, and better-natured every way, than when he's sober. As long as -my man doesn't beat me and pull the house about our heads, I'll never -say him nay.' - -"It was near the end of the second month that a sick traveler stopped -at the Wortley Arms--so they called the inn--and lay very ill there for -weeks and weeks. He had taken cold and got a fever, and he was very -poorly and like to die. Mary Dane, with all her airy ways, had a tender -heart and a soft head, and she turned to and nursed the sick man like a -sister. They took such care of him at the Wortley Arms that he got well, -and in three weeks was able to be up and about. - -"This strange gentleman gave the name of Mr. Walls; and he was young and -handsome, and very rich. He spent money like water; he paid the doctor -and the landlord and the nurses as if he had been a prince. He had a -pleasant word and jest for every one. He was hand and glove with Stephen -Dane, and heaped presents on presents on his wife. He gave her silk -dresses and gold rings and costly shawls and gay bonnets until people -began to talk. What did he care for their talk? what did Mary Dane, -either? He lingered and lingered. The talking grew louder, until, at -last, it reached the ears of Stephen Dane. He took it quietly. 'It's -mighty dull for the likes of you here, Mr. Walls,' he says to the -gentleman, looking him full in the eye. 'It's no place for a young -gentleman, in my notion. I think you had better be going.' - -"'Do you?' says Mr. Walls, back again, as cool as himself. 'You are -right, I dare say. I'll settle my bill to-night and be off to-morrow.' - -"He did settle his bill at the bar before they parted, took a last glass -with Stephen Dane, and walked up to his room, whistling. Steeple Hill -never saw him more. When morning came he was far away, and Mary Dane -with him." - -Again Miriam paused; again Mollie held the wine-cup to her lips; again -she drank and went on: - -"I couldn't tell you, Mollie, if I would, the shock and the scandal that -ran through Steeple Hill, and I wouldn't if I could. If it were in my -power, such horrors would never reach your innocent ears. But they were -gone, and Stephen Dane was like a man mad. He drank, and drank, and -drank until he was blind drunk, and then, in spite of everybody, set off -to go after them. Before he had got ten yards from his own doorstep he -fell down in a fit, blood pouring from his month and nostrils. That -night he died. - -"The hour of his death, when he knew he had but a few moments to live, -he turned every soul out of the room, and made his brother kneel down -and take a solemn oath of vengeance. - -"'I'll never rest easy in my grave, James,' said the dying man, 'and -I'll never let you rest easy in your life, until you have avenged me -on my wronger.' - -"Your father knelt down and swore. It was a bad, bad death-bed, and a -bad, bad oath. But he took it; and Stephen Dane died, with his brother's -hand clasped in his, and his dying eyes fixed on his brother's face. - -"They buried the dead man; and when the sods were piled above him, your -father told me of the vow he had made--the vow he meant to keep. What -could I say? what could I do? I wept woman's tears, I said woman's words. -I pleaded, I reasoned, I entreated--all in vain. He would go, and he -went. - -"He followed the guilty pair, like a blood-hound, for weary months and -months. For a long time it seemed as though he must give up the search -as fruitless; but at last, in the open street of a French city, he met -the man Walls face to face. He flew at him like a madman, grasped his -throat, and held him until the man turned black in the face. But he was -lithe, and young, and powerful, and he shook him off at last. Then -commenced a struggle for life or death. The street was a lonely one; the -time past midnight. No one was abroad; not a creature was to be seen. -Walls pulled out a pistol and shot James Dane through the head. With a -cry of agony, the murdered man fell forward on his face. Another instant, -and Walls had fled. The dead man was alone in the deserted street. - -"Next day the papers were full of the mysterious murder, but before next -day Walls and Mary Dane were far away. Rewards were offered by the -government, the police were set on the track, but all in vain--the -murderer was not to be found. - -"But there was one who knew it, and to whom the knowledge was a -death-blow--guilty Mary Dane. At all times she had been more weak than -wicked, and when Walls had fled home, blood-stained and ghastly, and in -his first frenzy had told her all, she dropped down at his feet like a -dead woman. - -"Mary Dane fled with him from the scene of his crime, because his baby -daughter lay on her arm, and she would not see its guilty father die a -felon's death; but her heart was torn with remorse from that hour. She -never held up her head again. Her wicked love turned to hatred and -loathing; the very first opportunity she left him, and, like a -distracted creature, made her way home. - -"Walls made no effort to follow her--he thought she had gone off in a -fit of remorse and misery and drowned herself. He was glad to be rid of -her, and he left France at once, and wandered away over the world. - -"Mary Dane came home with her child--home to die. On her death-bed she -told me the story of my husband's death, and from the hour I heard it, -Reason tottered on her throne. I have never been sane since my misery -drove me mad. - -"Mary Dane died, and I buried her. The child went to the work-house--I -would not have touched it with a pair of tongs--and there it, too, died -of lack and care. And so the miserable story of sin and shame ended, as -all such stories must end. - -"But the misery did not end here. You were left me, but I seemed to care -for you no longer. I sat down, a stunned and senseless thing, and let -all belonging to me go to rack and ruin. The farm went, the furniture -went, the homestead went--I was left a widowed, penniless, half-crazed -wretch. Thus all was gone but the clothes upon our backs--you went, too. -We were starving, but for the pitying charity of others. As you sat -singing by the road-side, the manager of a strolling band of players -overheard you, took a fancy to your pretty looks, and ways, and voice, -and made me an offer for you. I don't think I knew what I was doing half -the time--I didn't then--I let you go. - -"When you were gone I broke down altogether, and the authorities of the -village took and shut me up in a lunatic asylum. The years I spent -there--and I spent six long years--are but a dull, dead blank. My life -began again when they sent me forth, as they said--cured. - -"I left Steeple Hill and began my life as a tramp. I joined a band of -gypsies, and took to their ways--fortune-telling, rush-weaving--anything -that came up; and I was black enough and weather-beaten enough to pass -for one of them. I had but one desire left in life. To hunt up the -manager of the little theater, and see my daughter again. I didn't want -you back. What could I, a miserable tramp, homeless, houseless, do with -a young girl?--but I hungered and thirsted for the sound of your voice, -for the sight of your face. I would know you anywhere--you were of the -kind that do not change much. I knew I would recognize you as soon as I -saw you. - -"For two years I strolled about with the gypsy gang, searching in vain. -Then my time came, and I saw you. It was at Liverpool, embarking on -board a vessel for America. I had money--made in those two yeas -wandering--hidden in my breast, more than enough for my passage. I -crossed the Atlantic in the same vessel with you, and never lost sight -of you since. - -"But a great, a mighty shock was waiting for me this side the ocean. On -the pier, as we landed, Mollie, the first person my eyes rested on was -the man Walls--older, darker, sterner than when I saw him before, but my -arch-enemy--the murderer Walls. - -"Mollie, I let you go and I followed that man home, followed him to a -mansion that was like a palace, and I heard his name--his real name. -Mollie, Mollie, do you need to be told what that name is?" - -"No," said Mollie, in a horror-struck voice; "it is Carl Walraven!" - -"It is. Now do you know why I hate him--why I would die the death of a -dog by the way-side before I would take a crust from him?" - -"And yet," Mollie cried in a voice of bitter anguish, "you have let me, -James Dane's child, eat of his bread, drink of his cup, dwell under his -roof! Oh, my mother!" - -At that piercing cry of unutterable reproach, the dying woman held up -her supplicating hands. - -"It was because I loved you a thousand times better than myself--better -than my revenge. Forgive me, Mollie--forgive me!" - -"You are my mother, and you are dying," Mollie said, solemnly, bending -down and kissing her. "I forgive you everything. But I will never set -foot under Carl Walraven's roof again." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -DEAD AND BURIED. - - -The twilight was falling without--the last silvery radiance of the dying -day streamed through the dirty, broken attic window, and lighted, as -with a pale glory, Mollie's drooping head and earnest, saddened face. - -Miriam had fallen back upon the pillow, exhausted, panting, laboring for -breath. - -There was a long pause; then Mollie lifted her bowed head and drew -closer to the dying woman. - -"Finish your story," she said, softly, sadly. - -"It is finished," Miriam answered, in a voice, scarcely above a whisper. -"You know the rest. I went to you, as you remember, the day after you -landed, and proved to you that I was your aunt--a falsehood, Mollie, -which my love and my pride begot. - -"Some dim recollection of me and your childhood's days yet lingered in -your breast--you believed me. You told me you were going to K----. You -gave me money, and promised to write to me. You were so sweet, so -gentle, so pitying, so beautiful, that I loved you tenfold more than -ever. Your life was one of labor, and drudgery, and danger. If I could -only make you a lady, I thought! My half-crazed brain caught at the -idea, and held it fast--if I could only make you a lady! - -"Like lightning there dawned upon me a plan. The man who had wronged us -all so unutterably was rich and powerful--why should I not use him? -Surely, it could not be wrong--it would be a just and righteous -reparation. He need not know you were my child--with that knowledge I -would far sooner have seen you dead than dependent upon him--but let -him think you were his very own (Mary Dane's) dead child, and where -would be the obligation? - -"I could neither sleep nor eat for thinking of this plot of mine. Your -image, bright and beautiful in silken robes and sparkling jewels, waited -upon by obedient servants, a life of ease and luxury for my darling whom -I had deserted--a lady among the ladies of the land--haunted me by night -and by day. - -"I yielded at last. I went to Carl Walraven, and stood boldly up before -him, and faced him until he quailed. Conscience makes cowards of the -bravest, they say, and I suppose it was more his guilty conscience than -fear of me; but the fear was there. I threatened him with exposure--I -threatened to let the world know his black crimes, until he turned white -as the dead before me. - -"He knew and I knew, in our heart of hearts, that I could do nothing. -How could I substantiate a charge of murder done years ago in -France?--how prove it? How bring it home to him? My words would be -treated as the ravings of a mad-woman, and I would be locked up in -a mad-house for my pains. - -"But knowing all this, and knowing I knew it, he nevertheless feared me, -and promised to do all I wished. He kept his word, as you know. He went -to K----, and, seeing you, became as desirous of you as I would have had -him. Your bright, girlish beauty, the thought that you were his -daughter, did the rest. He brought you home with him, and grew to -love you dearly." - -"Yes," Mollie said, very sadly, "he loves me dearly. I should abhor and -hate the murderer of my father, I suppose, but somehow I can not. Mr. -Walraven has been very good to me. And now, mother, tell me why you came -on the day of his marriage, and strove to prevent it? You did not really -think he was going to marry me?" - -"I never thought so," said Miriam. "It was one of my mad freaks--an evil -wish to torment him. I have been a nightmare to him ever since my first -appearance. I hardly know whether he hates or fears me most. But that is -all past and gone. I will never torment him again in this world. Give me -more wine, Mollie--my lips are parched." - -Miriam moistened her dry mouth and fell back, ghastly and breathing -hard. Mollie rose from the bedside with a heavy sign. - -"You will not leave me?" the dying woman whispered, in alarm, opening -her glassy eyes. - -"Only for a moment, mother. Mr. Ingelow is below. I must speak with -him." - -She glided from the room and went down-stairs. - -Hugh Ingelow, leaning against the door-post, smoking a solacing cigar, -and watching the new moon rise, started as she appeared. She looked so -unlike herself, so like a spirit, that he dropped his cigar and stared -aghast. - -"Is she dead?" he asked. - -"She is dying," Mollie answered. "I came to tell you I will stay to the -last--I will not leave her again. You can not, need not wait longer -here, Mr. Ingelow." - -"I will not leave you," Mr. Ingelow said, resolutely, "if I have to stay -a week. Good heavens, Mollie! what do you think I am, to leave you alone -and unprotected in this beastly place?" - -"I will be safe enough," Mollie said with a wan smile at his vehemence. -"I dare say the worst crime these poor people are guilty of is poverty." - -"I will not leave you," Hugh Ingelow reiterated. "I will go upstairs and -stay in the passage all night if you will find me a chair. I may be -needed." - -"You are so kind!" raising her eloquent eyes; "but it is too much--" - -"Not one whit too much. Don't let us waste words over a trifle. Let us -go up." - -He ran lightly up the rickety staircase, and Mollie, pausing a moment to -tap at Mrs. Slimmens' door, and ask her to share her last vigil, slowly -followed, and returned to the solemn chamber of death. - -Mrs. Slimmens, worthy woman, saw to Mr. Ingelow's comfort. She found a -chair and a little table and a pillow for the young gentleman, and fixed -him as agreeably as possible on the landing. The patient artist laid the -pillow upon the table and his head thereon, and slept the sleep of the -just. - -The long night wore on; Miriam lay, white and still, the fluttering -breath just there and no more. After midnight she sunk lower and lower -with every passing hour. As day-dawn, pale and blank, gleamed dimly -across the night, the everlasting day dawned for her. Sinful and -suffering, she was at rest. - -Only once she had spoken. Just before the last great change came, the -dulled, glazed eyes opened and fixed themselves on Mollie. - -"My darling--my darling!" she whispered, with a last look of unutterable -love. - -Then a shiver shook her from head to foot, the death-rattle sounded, -the eyeballs rolled upward, and Miriam was dead. - -Mrs. Slimmens' wild cry brought Hugh Ingelow into the room. He crossed -the room to where Mollie knelt, rigid and cold. - -"Mollie!" he whispered, bending tenderly down; "my own dear Mollie!" - -She looked up vaguely, and saw who it was. - -"She was my mother, Hugh," she said, and slipped heavily backward in his -arms, white and still. - -Mollie did not faint. She lay a moment in a violent tremor and -faintless, her face hidden on his shoulder; then she lifted her face, -white as the dead--white as snow. - -"She was my mother, Hugh," she repeated--"my own mother." - -"Your mother, Mollie? And I thought Carl Walraven--" - -"Oh, hush! not that name here. He is nothing to me--less than nothing. -I shall never see him again." - -"Are you not going home?" - -"I have no home," said Mollie, mournfully. "I will stay here until she -is buried. After that--'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.' -You will help me, Mr. Ingelow?" looking piteously up. "I don't know what -to do." - -"I will help you," he said, tenderly, "my poor little forlorn darling; -but only on one condition--that you will grant me a favor." - -"What?" looking at him wonderingly. - -"That you will go and lie down. You need sleep--go with Mrs. -Slimmens--eat some breakfast, and try to sleep away the morning. Don't -make yourself uneasy about anything--all shall be arranged as well as if -you were here. You will do this for me, Mollie?" - -"Anything for you, Hugh," Mollie replied, hardly knowing what she said; -"but I feel as though I should never sleep again." - -Nevertheless, when led away by Mrs. Slimmens, and a cup of warm tea -administered, and safely tucked in a clean straw bed, Mollie's heavy -eyelids closed in a deep, dreamless sleep. That blessed slumber which -seals the eyes of youth, despite every trouble, wrapped her in its -comforting arms for many hours. - -It was high noon when Mollie awoke, refreshed in body and mind. She rose -at once, bathed her face and brushed her curls, and quitted the bedroom. - -Mrs. Slimmens, in the little kitchen, was bustling about the midday meal. - -"Your dinner is all ready, Miss Dane," that worthy woman said, "and the -young gentleman told me not on any account to allow you upstairs again -until you'd had it. Sit right down here. I've got some nice broiled -chicken and blancmange." - -"You've never gone to all this trouble and expense for me, I hope?" -remonstrated Mollie. - -"La, no; I hadn't the money. The young gentleman had 'em ordered here -from the restaurant up-street. Sit right down at once." - -"Dear, kind, considerate Hugh!" Mollie thought, as she took her place at -the tidy table. "Where is he now, Mrs. Slimmens?" - -"Gone for his own dinner, miss, or his breakfast; I don't know which, -seein' he's had nothing all day but a cup of tea I gave him this -morning. He's been and had the poor creeter upstairs laid out beautiful, -and the room fixed up, and the undertaker's man's been here, a-measurin' -her for her coffin. She's to be buried to-morrow, you know." - -"Yes, I know. Poor Miriam! poor mother!" - -Mollie finished her meal and went at once upstairs. The chamber of death -looked ghastly enough, draped with white sheets, which hid the smoky, -blotched walls; the stove had been removed, the floor scrubbed, the -window washed and flung open, and on the table stood two large and -beautiful bouquets that scented the little room with sweetest odors of -rose and mignonette. - -On the bed, snowily draped in a white shroud, lay Miriam, her hands -folded across her bosom, a linen cloth covering the dead face. By the -bed a watcher sat--a decently dressed woman, who rose with a sort of -questioning courtesy upon the entrance of the young lady. - -"This is Mrs. Harmen, Miss Dane," said Mrs. Slimmens. "She's the person -that fixed the shroud and helped tidy up. She's to take spells with you -and me watching until the funeral comes off." - -"Very well," said Mollie, quietly. "Perhaps she had better go down with -you for the present. I will remain here for the rest of the day." - -The two women quitted the apartment, and Mollie was left alone. She -removed the cloth and gazed sadly on the rigid face. - -"Poor soul!" she thought, bitterly, "hers was a hard, hard life! Oh, -Carl Walraven! if you could look upon your work, surely even you would -feel remorse." - -The entrance of Hugh Ingelow aroused her. She turned to him her pale, -sweet face and earnest blue eyes. - -"I want to thank you so much, Mr. Ingelow, and I can not. You are very, -very, very good." - -He took the hand she held out and kissed it. - -"One word from you would repay me for ten times as much. May I share -your watch for a couple of hours?" - -"For as long as you will. I want to tell you the story she told me on -her death-bed. You have been so good to me--no brother could have been -more--that I can have no secrets from you. Besides, you must understand -why it is I will return to Mr. Walraven's no more." - -"No more?" he echoed in surprise. - -"Never again. I never want to see him again in this world. I will tell -you. I know the miserable secret is as safe with you as in my own -breast." - -If Mollie had loved Hugh Ingelow less dearly and devotedly than she did, -it is doubtful if she would have revealed the dark, sad history Miriam -had unfolded. But he had her heart, and must have every secret in it; so -she sat and told him, simply and sadly, all her father's and mother's -wrongs. Mr. Ingelow listened in horrified amaze. - -"So now, you see, my friend," she concluded, "that I can never cross -Carl Walraven's threshold more." - -"Of course not," cried Mr. Ingelow, impetuously. "Good heavens! what a -villain that man has been! They ought to hang, draw, and quarter him. -The infliction of such a wife as Madame Blanche has been is but -righteous retribution. You should expose him, Mollie." - -"And myself? No, no, Mr. Ingelow. I leave him in higher hands. The mill -of the gods grinds slow, but it grinds sure. His turn will come, be -certain of that, sooner or later. All I will do is never to look upon -his guilty face again." - -"What do you mean to do, Mollie? But I suppose you have no plan formed -yet." - -He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, looking at her askance, and Mollie -sighed wearily. - -"Yes, I have a plan. I intend to leave New York as soon as possible -after to-morrow." - -"Indeed. May I ask--to go where?" - -"Mr. Ingelow, I shall join my old company again. They will be glad to -have me, I know. I have always kept up a correspondence with a friend I -had in the troupe, and she continually, half in jest, wholly in earnest, -urges my return. They are down in Kentucky now. I will write to the -manager. He will forward me the funds to join them, I know. While I wait -for his answer and remittance, good Mrs. Slimmens will provide me a -home." - -She ceased, and rising up, walked over to the window. - -Now was Mr. Ingelow's time, surely, if he cared for Mollie at all; but -Mr. Ingelow spoke never a word. He sat in dead silence, looking at the -little figure by the window, knowing she was crying quietly, and making -no attempt to wipe away those tears by one tender word. - -The afternoon wore away. As the twilight fell, Mr. Ingelow took his -departure, and Mollie went down to Mrs. Slimmens' for a reviving cup of -tea. - -"I have everything arranged for the funeral, Mollie," Mr. Ingelow said -at parting. "I will be here by nine o'clock to-morrow. Don't give -yourself the least anxiety about the matter, Mollie." - -The young man departed. Mollie had her toast, and returned to the -death-room. She remained there until past midnight with Mrs. Harmen; -then, at Mrs. Slimmens' earnest request, she retired, and that good -woman took her place. At ten next day, the humble funeral _cortège_ -started. Mr. Ingelow sat in the carriage with Mollie, but they spoke -very little during the melancholy drive. - -It was a dismal day, with ceaseless rain, and sighing wind, and leaden -sky. Mollie cowered in a corner of the carriage, her pale face gleaming -like a star above her black wraps, the bright blue eyes unutterably -mournful. - -And Hugh Ingelow watched her with an indescribable expression in his -fathomless eyes, and made no effort to console her. - -The sods rattled on the coffin-lid, the grave was filled up, and -everybody was hurrying away out of the rain. - -It was all over, like some dismal dream, and Mollie, shivering under her -shawl, took one last backward look at the grave of her mother, and was -hurried back to the carriage by Hugh Ingelow. - -But she was so deathly white and cold, and she trembled with such -nervous shivering, that the young man drew her to him in real alarm. - -"You are going to be ill, Mollie," he said. "You are ill." - -"Am I?" said Mollie, helplessly. "I don't know. I hope not. I want to go -away so much." - -"So much? To leave me, Mollie?" - -Mollie lifted her heavy eyes, filled with unutterable reproach. - -"You don't care," she said. "It is nothing to you. And it should be -nothing," suddenly remembering herself and sitting up. "Please let me -go, Mr. Ingelow. We must part, and it is better so." - -Mr. Ingelow released her without a word. Mollie sat up, drew a letter -from her pocket, and handed it to him. He saw it was addressed to Carl -Walraven, and looked at her inquiringly. - -"I wish you to read it," she said. - -It was unsealed. He opened it at once, and read: - -"MR. WALRAVEN,--Miriam is dead--Miriam Dane--my mother. She deceived you -from first to last. I am no daughter of yours--for which I humbly thank -God!--no daughter of Mary Dane. I am Miriam's child; yours died in the -work-house in its babyhood. I know my own story--I know your hand is red -with my father's blood. I don't forgive you, Mr. Walraven, but neither do -I accuse you. I simply never will see you again. Mr. Ingelow will hand -you this. He and I alone know the story. MARY DANE." - -Mr. Ingelow looked up. - -"Will it do?" she asked. - -"Yes. Am I to deliver it?" - -"If you will add that kindness to your others. I don't think he will -seek me out. He knows better than that." - -Her head dropped against the side of the carriage. The face usually so -sparkling looked very, very pale, and worn, and sad. The young artist -took her hand and held it a moment at parting. - -"You intend to write to your old manager to-morrow, Mollie?" - -"Yes." - -"Don't do it. Postpone it another day. I am coming here to-morrow, and -I have a different plan in my head that I think will suit better. Wait -until to-morrow, Mollie, and trust me." - -His eyes flashed with an electric fire that thrilled the girl through. - -What did he mean? But Mr. Ingelow had sprung into the carriage again and -was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -CRICKET'S HUSBAND. - - -Mr. Carl Walraven sat alone in his private room in a Broadway hotel, -smoking an after-breakfast cigar, and looking lazily at the stream of -people hurrying up and down. It was the morning following Miriam's -funeral, of which he, of course, had heard nothing. He had left the city -after his interview with his wife, and had but just returned. He had not -gone home, but he had notified Mr. Sardonyx of his presence in town, and -signified that that gentleman was to wait upon him immediately. - -Pending his arrival, Mr. Walraven sat and smoked, and stared at the -passers-by, and wondered, with an internal chuckle, how Mme. Blanche -felt by this time, and whether Mollie was lonely or not, shut up in the -deserted mansion. - -"If she'll consent, I'll take her to Europe," mused Carl Walraven. "It -will be delightful to go over the old places with so fresh a companion -as my sparkling little Cricket. But I'm not sure that she'll go--she's a -great deal to fond of young Ingelow. Well, he's a fine fellow, and I've -no objection." - -Mr. Walraven's reflections were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. -Sardonyx. The lawyer bowed; his employer nodded carelessly. - -"How do, Sardonyx? Find a chair. I've got back, you see. And now, how's -things progressing?" - -"Favorably, Mr. Walraven. All goes well." - -"And madame has gone packing, I hope?" - -"Mrs. Walraven left for Yonkers yesterday. I accompanied her and saw her -safely to her new home." - -"How does she take it?" - -"In sullen silence. She doesn't deign to speak to me; but with her -cousin it is quite another matter. He had the hardihood to call upon her -in my presence, and you should have seen her. By Jove, sir! she flew out -at him like a tigress. Doctor Guy departed without standing on the order -of his going, and hasn't had the courage to try it on since." - -Mr. Walraven smiled grimly. - -"That's as it should be. Apart, they are harmless; together, they are -the devil's own. And now, how's the mother, and how's Mollie?" - -"Your mother is as well as usual, I believe. As to Miss Dane," lifting -his eyebrows in surprise, "have you not heard?" - -"Heard what?" - -"Why, that she has gone." - -"Gone!" cried Carl Walraven, "gone again? What the foul fiend does the -girl mean? Has she been carried off a third time?" - -"Oh, dear, no! nothing of that sort. Miss Dane and Mr. Ingelow departed -together late in the afternoon of the same day you left, and neither has -since been heard of." - -Mr. Sardonyx made this extraordinary statement with a queer smile just -hovering about the corners of his legal mouth. His employer looked at -him sternly. - -"See here, Sardonyx," he said; "none of your insinuations. Miss Dane is -my ward, remember. You are her jilted lover, I remember. Therefore, I -can make allowances. But no insinuations. If Miss Dane and Mr. Ingelow -left together, you know as well as I do there was no impropriety in -their doing so." - -"Did I say there was, Mr. Walraven? I mean to insinuate nothing. I -barely state facts, told me by your servants." - -"Did Mollie leave no word where she was going?" - -"There was no need; they knew. This was the way of it: a ragged urchin -came for her in hot haste, told her Miriam was dying, and desired her -presence at once, to reveal some secret of vital importance. Miss Dane -departed at once. Mr. Ingelow chanced to be at the house, and he -accompanied her. Neither of them has returned." - -The face of Carl Walraven turned slowly to a dead, sickly white as he -heard the lawyer's words. He rose slowly and walked to one of the -opposite windows, keeping his back turned to Sardonyx. - -"Has there been no letter, no message of any sort since?" he inquired, -huskily, after a pause. - -"None. No one in your household knows even where this Miriam resides. As -for Mr. Ingelow, I called twice at the studio since, but each time to -find it locked." - -There was a tap at the door. - -"Come in," said the lawyer. - -And enter a waiter, with a card for Mr. Walraven. That gentleman took it -with a start. - -"Speak of the--Hugh Ingelow!" he muttered. "Sardonyx, I wish to see -Ingelow in private. I'll drop into your office in the course of the day." - -Mr. Sardonyx bowed and took his hat and his departure at once. - -Mr. Ingelow and he crossed each other on the threshold. - -The young artist entered, his handsome face set, and grave, and stern. - -Mr. Walraven saw that cold, fixed face with a sinking heart. - -"Good-morning, Ingelow," he said, trying to nod and speak indifferently. -"Take a seat and tell me the news. I've been out of town, you know." - -"I know," Mr. Ingelow said, availing himself of the proffered chair only -to lean lightly against it. "Thanks. No, I prefer to stand. My business -will detain you but a few minutes. I come from Miss Dane." - -He spoke with cold sternness. He could not forget the horrible fact that -the man before him was a profligate and a murderer. - -"Ah!" Carl Walraven said, with ashen lips. "She is well, I trust?" - -"She is well. She desired me to give you this." - -He held out the note. The hands of the millionaire shook as he tried to -open it. - -"Where is she?" he asked. - -"She is with friends. Read that note; it explains all." - -"Have you read it?" Carl Walraven asked with sudden, fierce suspicion. - -"I have," answered Mr. Ingelow, calmly; "by Miss Dane's express desire." - -Mr. Walraven opened the note and read it slowly to the end. His face -changed from ashen gray to the livid hue of death. He lifted his eyes to -the face of the young artist, and they glowed like the burning eyes of a -hunted beast. - -"Well?" - -It was all he said, and he sent the word hissing hot and fierce from -between his set teeth. - -"That is all my errand here, Mr. Walraven," the young man said, his cool -brown eyes looking the discovered murderer through. "I know all, and I -believe all. You have been duped from first to last. Miss Dane is no -child of yours, thank God!" - -He raised his hand as he uttered the solemn thanksgiving, with a gesture -that thrilled the guilty man through. - -"Your secret is safe with her and with me," pursued Hugh Ingelow, after -a pause. "You may live to the end of your life unmolested of man, for -us, but you must never look upon Mollie Dane's face more." - -Carl Walraven sunk down into a chair and covered his face, with a groan. -Hugh Ingelow turned to go. - -"Stop!" Mr. Walraven said, hoarsely. "What is to become of her? Are you -going to marry her, Hugh Ingelow?" - -"I decline answering that question, Mr. Walraven," the artist said, -haughtily. "Miss Dane will be cared for--believe that. I wish you -good-morning." - -Mr. Ingelow was very pale when he emerged into thronged Broadway, but -there was no indecision in his movements. He hailed a hack passing, -sprung in, and was driven rapidly to the east side--to the humble abode -of Mrs. Slimmens. - -Mollie came forth to meet him, worn and sad, and with traces of tears, -but with a bright, glad light in her starry eyes at sight of him--the -light of sweet young love. - -"I have seen him, Mollie," he said. "I gave him your letter. You would -hardly have known him, he looked so utterly aghast and confounded. He -will not try to see you, I am certain. And now, my dear girl, for that -other and better plan that I spoke of last evening. But first you must -take a drive with me--a somewhat lengthy drive." - -She looked at him wonderingly, but in no fear. - -"A drive," she repeated. "Where?" - -"Only to Harlem--not quite out of the world," with a smile. "The -carriage is waiting. Go put on your bonnet, and come." - -"It is very odd," thought Mollie. - -But she obeyed implicitly, and in five minutes they were rattling along -over the stony streets. - -"Won't you tell me now?" the young lady asked. - -"Not yet. Let the mystery develop itself as it does in a novel. Trust to -me, and prepare for a great shock." - -She gazed at him, utterly unable to comprehend. He was smiling, but he -was strangely pale. - -"It is no jest, surely," Mollie said. "It is something serious. You look -as though it were." - -"Heaven knows I never was more serious in my life. Don't ask any more -questions now, Mollie; but if I have ever done you the slightest -service, try to bear it in mind. You will need to remember it shortly, -and I will stand sorely in want of all your magnanimity." - -He said no more, and Mollie sat in a dazed state, but still happy, as -she ever must be by his side. And on, and on, and on they rattled, and -the city was left behind, and they were driving through the quiet of -Harlem, green and pretty in its summery freshness. - -The driver, obeying some directions of Mr. Ingelow, turned up a shady -green lane ending in a high gate-way. - -They entered the gate-way and drove up through a long avenue of waving -trees to a square, fair mansion of gleaming white--a large wooden -structure with intensely green blinds, all closely shut. - -Mollie sat and looked in speechless expectation. Mr. Ingelow, -volunteering no explanation, assisted her out, desired cabby to wait, -opened the door with a latch-key, and ushered Mollie in. - -The entrance-hall was very much like any other entrance-hall; so, -likewise, was the broad stair-way; so, also, the upper landing. - -It was only when Mr. Ingelow, pausing before one of the doors in the -second hall, spoke, that Mollie received her first shock. - -"You will enter here, Mollie, and wait. Prepare yourself for a great -surprise--a terrible surprise, perhaps." - -He bowed and left her, passing into another room, and closing the door. - -All in an agitated flutter, Mollie opened her door and entered. But on -the threshold she paused, with a shrill cry of wonder, terror, and -doubt; for the padded walls and floor, the blind windows, the lighted -lamp, the bed, the furniture, were all recognized in a moment. - -It was the room where she had been first imprisoned--where she had -consented to marry the masked man. - -A quiet figure rose from a chair under the lamp and faced her with a -courtesy. It was the girl who had lured her from her home--Sarah Grant. - -"Come in, miss," said this young person, as though they had just parted -an hour ago. "Master told me to expect you. Sit down; he'll be here in a -minute. You look fit to drop." - -She felt "fit to drop." She sunk into the proffered seat, trembling -through every limb in her body, overwhelmed with a stunning -consciousness that the supreme moment of her life had come. - -Sarah Grant left the room, and Mollie was alone. Her eyes turned to -the door, and fixed themselves there as if fascinated. Her head was -awhirl--her mind a blank. Something tremendous was about to -happen--what, she could not think. - -The door opened slowly--the man in the black mask strode in and stood, -silent and awful, before her. - -Without a word or cry, but white as death, she rose up and confronted -him with wild, dilated eyes. - -"You know me, Mollie," the masked man said, addressing her, as before, -in French--"I am your husband." - -"Yes," Mollie answered, her white lips scarce able to form the words. -"For God's sake, take off that mask and show me your face!" - -Without a word, he unclasped the cloak and let it slip on the floor; he -removed the flowing hair and beard, and with it the mask. And uttering a -low, wailing cry, Mollie staggered back--for there before her, pale as -herself, stood the man she loved--Hugh Ingelow! - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -WHICH WINDS UP THE BUSINESS. - - -He stood before her, pale and stern, his eyes fixed upon her, as a -culprit before his judge waiting sentence of death. - -But Mollie never looked. After that one brief, irrepressible cry, she -had fallen back, her face bowed and hidden in her hands. - -"You shrink from me, Mollie," Hugh Ingelow said; "you will not even look -at me. I knew it would be so. I know I deserve it; but if I were never -to see you again, I must tell you the truth all the same. Yes, Mollie, -recoil from me, hate me, spurn me, for the base, unmanly part I have -acted. It is not Doctor Oleander who is the dastard, the villain, the -abductor of weak women--it is I!" - -She did not speak, she did not move, she made no sign that she even -heard him. - -"It will avail me little, I know," he continued, "to tell you I have -repented the dastardly deed in bitterness of spirit since. It will avail -nothing to tell you how I have hated myself for that cruel and cowardly -act that made me your husband. I think you maddened me, Mollie, with -your heartless, your insulting rejection, and I did love you -passionately. I swore, in my heart of hearts, I would be avenged, and, -Mollie, you know how I kept my vow." - -Still no reply, still no movement on Mollie's part. She stood half -bowed, her head averted, her face covered by her hands. - -"It drove me into a sort of frenzy, the thought of your becoming Sir -Roger Trajenna's wife. If he had been a young man, and you had loved -him, I would have bowed my head, as before a shrine, and gone my way and -tried to forgive you and wish you happiness. But I knew better. I knew -you were selling yourself for an old man's rank, for an old man's gold, -and I tried to despise and hate you. I tried to think that no base act I -could commit would be baser than the marriage you were ready to make. A -plan--mad, impracticable as my own mad love, flashed across my brain, -and, like many other things impossible in theory, I did it! It seemed an -impossiblity to tear you from the very altar, and make you my wife, all -unknown, but I did it. I had this house here, uninhabited, furnished. I -had a friend ready to help me to the death. I disguised myself like a -hero of romance, I decoyed you here, forced you to consent, I married -you!" - -Still mute, still dropping, still averted, still motionless. There was a -tremor in Hugh Ingelow's steady voice when he went on. - -"How hard it was for me, what a cruel, cold-blooded monster I felt -myself, how my very heart of hearts was touched by your suffering here, -I can not tell. Besides, it would seem like mockery, since all my -compassion did not make me spare you. But from the moment you set foot -here I considered it too late; and then, besides, Mollie, I was mad with -love of you. I could not let you go. You yielded--you consented to -barter yourself for freedom, as once before you consented for gold. I -brought the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh here--he married me under my -second name of Ernest--as you know." - -He paused again. Still no sign, and then he went on: - -"I let you go. I did not dare reveal myself, but I kept my promise. Hate -me, Mollie, as you will; despise me, as you must--but try and think how -dearly I love you. I would lay down my life for you, my darling Mollie. -That would be an easy sacrifice; it remains for me to make a greater -one. A divorce shall set you free. I myself will obtain that divorce. No -one knows of our marriage--no one ever shall know. I will leave you -free--free as the wind that blows--to go forth and make happy a more -honorable and deserving man. Only, Mollie, no man ever will love you as -I love you!" His voice failed. He turned abruptly away, and stood as if -waiting for her to speak. But she never uttered a word. - -He took her silence for a token of her utter scorn and hate. - -"Farewell then, Mollie," he said. "I go, and I will never molest you -more. The carriage that brought you here will fetch you home again. But -before we part forever, let me say this--if you ever want a friend, and -can so far forgive me the wrong I have done you as to call upon me for -help, then, Mollie, I will try to repair my unpardonable offense." - -He walked to the door, he turned the handle, he gave one last, -despairing look--and what did he see? A little, white hand extended -imploringly, and a pathetic little voice, tremulously speaking: - -"Hugh, don't go!" - -He stopped, turning ghastly white. - -"Mollie! For God's sake--" - -"Don't--don't go, Mr. Ingelow! Don't go, for I forgive you--I love you!" - -Hugh Ingelow gave one amazed cry--it was more like a shout--and in the -next ecstatic moment Miss Dane was in his arms, held there as if he -never would let her go. - -"Please don't!" Mollie said, pettishly. "What do you suppose a person's -ribs are made of, to stand such bear's hugs as that? Besides, I didn't -tell you to. I only asked you not to mind the divorce--to-day!" - -"Mollie, Mollie! for Heaven's sake, don't trifle with me! I am nearly -beside myself--what with remorse, despair, and now hope. Tell me--can -you ever forgive me? But I am mad to ask it, to hope for it. I know what -you said to Doctor Oleander." - -"Do you?" said Mollie; "but then you're not Doctor Oleander." - -"Mollie!" - -"But still," said Mollie, solemnly, and disengaging herself, "when I -have time to think about it, I am sure I shall hate you like poison. I -do now, but I hate divorces more. Oh, Mr. Ingelow! how could you behave -so disgracefully?" - -And then all at once and without the slightest premonitory warning, the -young lady broke out crying hysterically, and to do it the better laid -her face on Mr. Ingelow's shoulder. And, that bold buccaneer of modern -society gathered the little girl close to his heart, like the -presumptuous scoundrel he was, and let her cry her fill; and the face -he bent over her was glorified and ecstatic. - -"Stop crying, Mollie," he said at last, putting back the yellow curls, -and peeping at the flushed, wet, pretty face. "Stop crying, my dear -little wife, and look up and say, 'Hugh, I forgive you.'" - -"Never!" said Mollie. "You cruel, tyrannical wretch, I hate you!" - -And saying it, Mollie put her arms round his neck, and laughed and cried -wildly in the same breath. - -"The hysterics will do you good, my dear," said Mr. Ingelow; "only don't -keep them up too long, and redden your precious blue eyes, and swell -your dear little nose. Mollie, is it possible you love me a little, -after all?" - -Mollie lifted her face again, and looked at him with solemn, shining -eyes. - -"Oh, Hugh! am I really and truly--your very wife?" - -"My very own--my darling Mollie--my precious little bride, as fast as -Church and State and Mr. Rashleigh can make you." - -"Oh, Hugh, it was a shame!" - -"I know it, Mollie--a dreadful shame! But you'll be a Christian, won't -you, and try to forgive me?" - -"I'll try, but I'm afraid it is impossible. And all the time I thought -it was Doctor Oleander. Oh, Hugh, you've no idea how miserable I was." - -There was a mysterious twinkle in Hugh's eyes. - -"Almost as miserable as at present, Mollie?" - -"Yes; more so, if such a thing be possible. It's shocking to carry off a -girl like that, and marry her against her will. Nobody in this world, -but an angel like myself, would ever forgive you." - -"Which is equivalent to saying you do forgive me. Thousand thanks, Mrs. -Ingelow. Tell me, would you ever have forgiven Guy Oleander?" - -"You know I wouldn't," Mollie answered, blushing beautifully at her new -name; "but, then, you're different." - -"How, Mollie?" - -"Well--well, you see I hate Doctor Oleander, and I don't hate you." - -"You like me a little, Mollie, don't you? Ah, my darling, tell me so. -You know you never have yet." - -And then Mollie put her two arms round his neck, and held up her lovely, -blushing face. - -"Dear, dear Hugh! I love you with all my heart! And the happiest day of -Mollie's life is the day she finds you are Mollie's husband!" - - * * * * * - -They were back in the carriage, driving through the golden mist of the -sunny afternoon slowly back to the city. Side by side, as happy lovers -sit, they sat and talked, with--oh, such infinitely blissful faces! - -"And now," said Mollie, "what are we going to do about it? It will never -answer to reveal this horrid little romance of ours to all the world." - -"Nor shall I. The world has no right to our secrets, and the Reverend -Raymond Rashleigh will go to his grave with his little mystery unsolved. -But we will be married again, openly and before the world, and you, Mrs. -Ingelow, will be under double obligation, because you will have promised -to love, honor and obey twice." - -"And we'll go and live out at Harlem, in the dear, romantic old house?" -Mollie said, with sparkling eyes. - -"Yes, if you wish it. I will have it repaired and refurnished -immediately, and, while the workmen are about it, we will be enjoying -our wedding-tour. For we must be married at once, Mollie," with a -comical look. - -Mollie blushed and fidgeted, and laughed a little nervous laugh. - -"This day fortnight will give you ample time for all the wedding -garniture," said the young man. "You hear, Mollie--a fortnight." - -Mollie sighed resignedly, "Of course, you will play the tyrant, as usual, -and carry me off willy-nilly, if I don't consent. You must have -everything your own way, I suppose. And now--I'm dying to know--tell me, -who is Sarah Grant?" - -"An eminently respectable young woman, and the wife of my -foster-brother. She and her husband would do anything under the -sun for me. The husband was the coachman who drove you when you were -abducted--who witnessed the marriage, and who is driving us now. Sarah's -a trump! Didn't she outwit Oleander nicely?" - -"How? Oh, Hugh," clasping her hands, "I see it all--the resemblance just -puzzled me so. Sarah Grant was Susan Sharpe." - -"Of course, she was, and a capital nurse she made. Sarah's worth her -weight in gold, and you will tell her so the next time you see her. And -now, here we are at Mrs. Watson's, and so good-bye for an hour or two, -my little wife." - -And Mollie went in, her face radiant, and all the world changed since -she had left. - -With the "witching hour of candle-light" came Mr. Ingelow again, to -spend the evening with his lady-love. He looked a little serious, as -Mollie saw. - -"What is it, Hugh?" she asked, in alarm. - -"Nothing much. I was thinking of Walraven. I saw him this afternoon." - -"Well?" breathlessly. - -"He is off again. Back to Europe, in the steamer to-morrow, never to -return, he says. I never saw a man more cast down. So old Madame -Walraven will be monarch of all she surveys once more, and the Fifth -Avenue mansion will be the abode of darkness and desolation again. Miss -Blanche is settled at Yonkers for good." - -"Did you tell him--" - -"About our forthcoming nuptials? Oh, yes! He looked rather surprised, -and asked about the Mysterious Unknown in the mask. But I pooh-poohed -that matter--told him I didn't think the mysterious husband would ever -trouble us, and I don't think he will. By the bye, Sir Roger Trajenna -goes to-morrow, too, so my little girl is deserted by all, and must -cling the closer to me." - - * * * * * - -While Carl Walraven and Sir Roger Trajenna sailed over the wide -sea--while Blanche Walraven ground her teeth in impotent rage up at -Yonkers--while Dr. Guy Orleander pursued his business in New York, and -scowled darkly at the failure of his plans--the daily papers burst out, -one morning, with the jubilant news that Hugh Ernest Ingelow, Esq., -and Miss Mollie Dane were one flesh. The Reverend Raymond Rashleigh -performed the ceremony, and the wedding was a very quiet affair, and the -happy pair started off at once to spend the honey-moon in a trip to the -Canadas. - -So we leave Cricket--all her girlish troubles, and flirtations, and -wildness over, to settle down into the dearest, brightest, loveliest -little wife in wide America. Happy as the days are long, and bright as -the sun that shines, has Cricket been since Hugh Ingelow has been her -husband. - - -THE END. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Unseen Bridgegroom, by May Agnes Fleming - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNSEEN BRIDGEGROOM *** - -***** This file should be named 15875.txt or 15875.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/7/15875/ - -Produced by Early Canadiana Online, Robert Cicconetti, -Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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