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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cd3ae8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67646 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67646) diff --git a/old/67646-0.txt b/old/67646-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7527882..0000000 --- a/old/67646-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8383 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of All for Love, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh -Miller - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: All for Love - or, Her Heart's Sacrifice - -Author: Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller - -Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67646] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy - of the Digital Library@Villanova University.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL FOR LOVE *** - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - -Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. - - * * * * * - -NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 1172 - -ALL FOR LOVE - -_BY MRS. ALEX. MCVEIGH MILLER_ - -[Illustration] - - * * * * * - -POPULAR COPYRIGHTS - -New Eagle Series - -PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS - -Carefully Selected Love Stories - -Note the Authors! - -There is such a profusion of good books in this list, that it is an -impossibility to urge you to select any particular title or author’s -work. All that we can say is that any line that contains the complete -works of Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Charles Garvice, Mrs. Harriet Lewis, -May Agnes Fleming, Wenona Gilman, Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller, and other -writers of the same type, is worthy of your attention, especially when -the price has been set at 15 cents the volume. - -These books range from 256 to 320 pages. They are printed from good -type, and are readable from start to finish. - -If you are looking for clean-cut, honest value, then we state most -emphatically that you will find it in this line. - -_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_ - - 1--Queen Bess By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 2--Ruby’s Reward By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 7--Two Keys By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 9--The Virginia Heiress By May Agnes Fleming - 12--Edrie’s Legacy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 17--Leslie’s Loyalty By Charles Garvice - (His Love So True) - 22--Elaine By Charles Garvice - 24--A Wasted Love By Charles Garvice - (On Love’s Altar) - 41--Her Heart’s Desire By Charles Garvice - (An Innocent Girl) - 44--That Dowdy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 50--Her Ransom By Charles Garvice - (Paid For) - 55--Thrice Wedded By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 66--Witch Hazel By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 70--Sydney By Charles Garvice - (A Wilful Young Woman) - 73--The Marquis By Charles Garvice - 77--Tina By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 79--Out of the Past By Charles Garvice - (Marjorie) - 84--Imogene By Charles Garvice - (Dumaresq’s Temptation) - 85--Lorrie; or, Hollow Gold By Charles Garvice - 88--Virgie’s Inheritance By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 95--A Wilful Maid By Charles Garvice - (Philippa) - 98--Claire By Charles Garvice - (The Mistress of Court Regna) - 99--Audrey’s Recompense By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 102--Sweet Cymbeline By Charles Garvice - (Bellmaire) - 109--Signa’s Sweetheart By Charles Garvice - (Lord Delamere’s Bride) - 111--Faithful Shirley By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 117--She Loved Him By Charles Garvice - 119--’Twixt Smile and Tear By Charles Garvice - (Dulcie) - 122--Grazia’s Mistake By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 130--A Passion Flower By Charles Garvice - (Madge) - 133--Max By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 136--The Unseen Bridegroom By May Agnes Fleming - 138--A Fatal Wooing By Laura Jean Libbey - 141--Lady Evelyn By May Agnes Fleming - 144--Dorothy’s Jewels By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 146--Magdalen’s Vow By May Agnes Fleming - 151--The Heiress of Glen Gower By May Agnes Fleming - 155--Nameless Dell By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 157--Who Wins By May Agnes Fleming - 166--The Masked Bridal By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 168--Thrice Lost, Thrice Won By May Agnes Fleming - 174--His Guardian Angel By Charles Garvice - 177--A True Aristocrat By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 181--The Baronet’s Bride By May Agnes Fleming - 188--Dorothy Arnold’s Escape By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 199--Geoffrey’s Victory By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 203--Only One Love By Charles Garvice - 210--Wild Oats By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 213--The Heiress of Egremont By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 215--Only a Girl’s Love By Charles Garvice - 219--Lost: A Pearle By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 222--The Lily of Mordaunt By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 223--Leola Dale’s Fortune By Charles Garvice - 231--The Earl’s Heir By Charles Garvice - (Lady Norah) - 233--Nora By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 236--Her Humble Lover By Charles Garvice - (The Usurper; or, The Gipsy Peer) - 242--A Wounded Heart By Charles Garvice - (Sweet as a Rose) - 244--A Hoiden’s Conquest By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 250--A Woman’s Soul By Charles Garvice - (Doris; or, Behind the Footlights) - 255--The Little Marplot By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 257--A Martyred Love By Charles Garvice - (Iris; or, Under the Shadows) - 266--The Welfleet Mystery By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 267--Jeanne By Charles Garvice - (Barriers Between) - 268--Olivia; or, It Was for Her Sake By Charles Garvice - 272--So Fair, So False By Charles Garvice - (The Beauty of the Season) - 276--So Nearly Lost By Charles Garvice - (The Springtime of Love) - 277--Brownie’s Triumph By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 280--Love’s Dilemma By Charles Garvice - (For an Earldom) - 282--The Forsaken Bride By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 283--My Lady Pride By Charles Garvice - 287--The Lady of Darracourt By Charles Garvice - (Floris) - 288--Sibyl’s Influence By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 291--A Mysterious Wedding Ring By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 292--For Her Only By Charles Garvice - (Diana) - 296--The Heir of Vering By Charles Garvice - 299--Little Miss Whirlwind By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 300--The Spider and the Fly By Charles Garvice - (Violet) - 303--The Queen of the Isle By May Agnes Fleming - 304--Stanch as a Woman By Charles Garvice - (A Maiden’s Sacrifice) - 305--Led by Love By Charles Garvice - Sequel to “Stanch as a Woman” - 309--The Heiress of Castle Cliffs By May Agnes Fleming - 312--Woven on Fate’s Loom, and The Snowdrift - By Charles Garvice - 315--The Dark Secret By May Agnes Fleming - 317--Ione By Laura Jean Libbey - (Adrien Le Roy) - 318--Stanch of Heart By Charles Garvice - 322--Mildred By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes - 326--Parted by Fate By Laura Jean Libbey - 327--He Loves Me By Charles Garvice - 328--He Loves Me Not By Charles Garvice - 330--Aikenside By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes - 333--Stella’s Fortune By Charles Garvice - (The Sculptor’s Wooing) - 334--Miss McDonald By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes - 339--His Heart’s Queen By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 340--Bad Hugh. Vol. I. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes - 341--Bad Hugh. Vol. II. By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes - 344--Tresillian Court By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 345--The Scorned Wife By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 346--Guy Tresillian’s Fate By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 347--The Eyes of Love By Charles Garvice - 348--The Hearts of Youth By Charles Garvice - 351--The Churchyard Betrothal By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 352--Family Pride. Vol. I. By Mary J. Holmes - 353--Family Pride. Vol. II. By Mary J. Holmes - 354--A Love Comedy By Charles Garvice - 360--The Ashes of Love By Charles Garvice - 361--A Heart Triumphant By Charles Garvice - 367--The Pride of Her Life By Charles Garvice - 368--Won By Love’s Valor By Charles Garvice - 372--A Girl in a Thousand By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 373--A Thorn Among Roses By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - Sequel to “A Girl in a Thousand” - 380--Her Double Life By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 381--The Sunshine of Love By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - Sequel to “Her Double Life” - 382--Mona By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 391--Marguerite’s Heritage By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 399--Betsey’s Transformation By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 407--Esther, the Fright By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 415--Trixy By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 440--Edna’s Secret Marriage By Charles Garvice - 449--The Bailiff’s Scheme By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 450--Rosamond’s Love By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - Sequel to “The Bailiff’s Scheme” - 451--Helen’s Victory By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 456--A Vixen’s Treachery By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 457--Adrift in the World By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - Sequel to “A Vixen’s Treachery” - 458--When Love Meets Love By Charles Garvice - 464--The Old Life’s Shadows By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 465--Outside Her Eden By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - Sequel to “The Old Life’s Shadows” - 474--The Belle of the Season By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - 475--Love Before Pride By Mrs. Harriet Lewis - Sequel to “The Belle of the Season” - 481--Wedded, Yet No Wife By May Agnes Fleming - 489--Lucy Harding By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes - 495--Norine’s Revenge By May Agnes Fleming - 511--The Golden Key By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 512--A Heritage of Love By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - Sequel to “The Golden Key” - 519--The Magic Cameo By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - 520--The Heatherford Fortune By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - Sequel to “The Magic Cameo” - - - - -ALL FOR LOVE - - - OR, - Her Heart’s Sacrifice - - BY - MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER - - Author of “Love Conquers Pride,” “The Man She Hated,” “A - Married Flirt,” “Loyal Unto Death”--published in the NEW - EAGLE SERIES. - - [Illustration] - - STREET & SMITH CORPORATION - PUBLISHERS - 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York - - * * * * * - -Copyright, 1903 NORMAN L. MUNRO - -All for Love - -(Printed in the United States of America) - - * * * * * - -ALL FOR LOVE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. A FAMILIAR SONG. - - -From a cottage window, embowered in azure morning glories, a girl’s -sweet voice sang blithely: - - “My heart with joy would thrill if you loved me, - ’Twould give this life of mine its fill of ecstasy; - Each golden moment spent with you on wings of Joy would flee; - The sky would be a ceaseless blue if you loved me!” - -Berry Vining, the little village beauty, singing so blithely at her -window of a love that as yet she had never known, was at the crisis of -her fate, for at that very moment down the village street swept a gay -cavalcade of riders, and as the sweet voice floated out upon the air, -their glances turned upward in irrepressible admiration. - - “What odds to me how dark the night if you loved me, - For in your eyes a beacon light of love I’d see; - My future, now a dark abyss, forever changed would be, - To sunny paths of rosy bliss if you loved me!” - -She was so lovely, this little Berry Vining, with her wealth of curly -chestnut locks, framing a face so fresh and fair as the morning -glories round the window--so lovely, with her big, wondering, brown -eyes under long, shady lashes, her sea-shell tints, her perfect little -nose, and rose-red lips, and dainty chin, where dimples swarmed, -entrancingly, whenever she smiled, that no one could look at her -without admiration. - -When all those eager eyes were leveled at her window the girl drew very -hastily backward, but not until she had seen one hat lifted from a -handsome head in her honor, as the man’s eyes paid eager tribute to her -charms. - -It all passed in a moment, but not too quickly for that flashing glance -to strike fire in a romantic maiden’s heart. - -The laughing, chattering riders passed on, the handsome men, the pretty -women, and Berry hid her blushing face among the green, heart-shaped -leaves of the morning glories, and whispered to the flowers: - -“Oh, what a handsome young man! What beautiful eyes, what a loving -smile! How grandly he rode on that fine bay horse--like a young prince, -I fancy, although I never saw one--and how courteous to bow to me, -though he had never seen me before! Even proud Miss Montague, who rode -by his side, did not appear to notice me, little Berry Vining, that she -has known all her life! Oh, how I envy her the joy of being with him, -of hearing him speak, and looking into his beaming eyes! I would give -the whole world for such a splendid lover!” - -“Berry! Berry!” called an impatient voice from the foot of the stairs, -but unheeding the summons, her thoughts ran on in melodious whispers to -the soft, green leaves: - -“Oh, I love him already, I cannot help it, for when his eyes met mine a -great rapturous shudder thrilled me through my whole being and told me -I had met my fate! Oh, shall we ever meet again, I wonder! We must, we -must, or my heart will break with love and longing! It was prophetic, -that song I was singing as his eyes met mine!” and she began to hum -again tenderly: - - “What odds to me how dark the night if you loved me, - For in your eyes a beacon light of love I’d see!” - -“Berry!--Ber-en-i-ce Vi-ning!” called the impatient voice downstairs -again, and starting from her rosy dreams of love, the girl flew to -reply: - -“Well, mamma?” - -The pale, faded little mother answered complainingly: - -“Always too late! I called you to look at the riding party from -Montague’s--their summer guests--five grand couples of them, on -horseback! But you missed everything coming down so slow!” - -“Oh, no, dear mamma, for I was watching them from my window, and saw -all. How fine they looked, indeed! I wish I could be like them!” - -“If wishes were horses beggars would ride!” mocked the pale, tired -mother sourly. “Come, now, and tidy up the kitchen, for I must be off -to my day’s work. There’s no rest for the weary.” - -She snatched down a rusty black bonnet from the nail where it hung, -and hurried from the house, hastening downtown to the shop, where -she worked by the day for the pittance that supported herself and -daughter. She was a tailoress by trade, and had been reared, wedded, -and widowed in this little New Jersey town. Her eldest children had -all married, and gone to humble homes of their own; she lived alone in -the tiny cottage with her youngest girl, Berenice, or Berry, as she -was familiarly called. A boy, still younger, lived on a farm with a -relative. - -Berry, now almost nineteen, had many admirers, but none of them had -ever touched her romantic young heart, much to the regret of her -work-worn mother, who longed to see her pretty darling settled down to -married life in a comfortable home, with a good husband. - -But Berry had only laughed at her suitors, for in her girlish -thoughtlessness she did not realize her mother’s cares and anxieties. -Unconsciously to herself, perhaps, she had secret ambitions, born, it -may be, of her high sounding name Berenice, or the knowledge that she -had the gift of beauty, so potent in its spell upon mankind. - -Berry longed for higher things, and despised the humdrum lives of -her sisters with the humble mates they had chosen. Like another Maud -Muller, she longed for something better than she had known. - -So as she tucked the blue gingham apron over her spotless print gown, -and deftly tidied up the kitchen, her excited thoughts followed the gay -cavalcade of riders with eager interest and longing. - -“I believe I am as pretty as any of those proud, rich girls,” she -murmured, glancing into the little cracked mirror over the mantel, -and sighing: “Why should I have so different a fate? Why did my poor -father have to drive an humble delivery wagon all his life and die of -a malarial fever at last; and why does poor mamma have to work as a -tailoress, while Rosalind Montague has a millionaire for a father, and -a fine lady mother flaunting in silks and diamonds? In only one thing -has God made us equal, and that is beauty. I have rivaled her to-day -with her splendid lover, and who knows but it may end in raising me to -her height of wealth and pride! If he loves and marries me, how much I -can do for poor mamma and the others! They should never have to work so -hard again. Oh, I am so happy, hoping he loves me, for even if he were -poor and humble as I am, I could love him just as well.” - -“Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat!” went the knocker on the door, and her heart -leaped wildly as she flew to open it. - -There stood the red-headed lad from the florist’s with a large bunch of -splendid red roses, wet with morning dew, and exhaling the rarest spicy -fragrance. - -“American beauties, Berry Vining--for you!” he cried, thrusting -them into her eager little hands, with a significant grin on his -good-natured, freckled face. - - - - -CHAPTER II. THE ROSY EMBLEM. - - -Berry cried out in delight as she pressed the flowers to her face: - -“Oh, how sweet, how lovely! Who sent me the roses, Jimmy Dolan?” - -“Gent from up ter de hall, sure, but I dunno his name. He was goin’ -past our shop on horseback with Miss Montague, and when they turned -the corner he rid back and bought these roses and guv me a dollar ter -bring ’em ter you, Berry--leastwise he said, ‘that pretty girl in the -morning-glory cottage down the street,’ so I knowed ’twas you, and then -he said: ‘Tell her the roses came from an ardent admirer.’” - -With that Jimmy darted away, and left Berry standing with the roses -pressed to her face, lost in a dream of delight. - -“He loves me, loves me! For love is the emblem of the sweet, red rose,” -thought the romantic little maiden, trembling with pure joy. - -To her young mind the gift of the roses was like an avowal of love from -the handsome stranger, and she went happily about her simple tasks, -hoping, praying that before another day they might meet again. - -When Mrs. Vining came home that night to the simple tea Berry had -prepared, she wondered a little that the girl wore the pretty, ruffled, -white gown that had been kept sacred to Sunday toilets before. - -“Must be invited to a party--never saw your Sunday gown on before, in -the middle of the week,” she observed tentatively. - -Berry, blushing almost as red as the rose on her breast, answered -carelessly: - -“Oh, I just thought of standing at the gate to see the people going up -to the lawn fête at the hall to-night, you know.” - -“And wishing in your heart you could go, too, silly child; ain’t you, -now? Well, you’re pretty enough to be there, if that was all, Berry, -but it isn’t, more’s the pity for you, so don’t waste any regret on it, -dearie, for remember the true saying: ‘Poor folks have to have poor -ways.’” - -“I don’t think it should be the way, mamma, for I’ve often heard it -said that clothes don’t make the man--nor woman, either! For instance, -now, Miss Rosalind Montague is no better, nor prettier, than I am, if -she were stripped of her fine clothes and jewels!” - -“Fie, fie! you vain little chick, I’m surprised at your talk. Let me -hear no more of it. You must be contented in the sphere where Heaven -has placed you, Berry. Or, if you wish to better your lot, you have a -fine chance before you now.” - -“What do you mean?” gasped Berry breathlessly. - -“You have another proposal of marriage--one from a rich man!” - -“Oh, mamma!” gasped Berry joyously, her eyes beaming, her cheeks aflame. - -She could think of one--only one lover--at this moment. - -How quickly he had found out her mother, how impetuous he was, her -handsome lover--how impetuous, how adorable! - -The future stretched before her eyes in a haze of bliss--the -realization of all the golden gleams she had been weaving to-day on -the airy foundation of a bow and smile, and the gift of a bunch of red -roses! - -Silly, happy little Berry! How quickly her dream was to be shattered! - -Mrs. Vining, draining her teacup, and setting it back in its saucer, -now continued blandly: - -“To-day my employer--Widower Wilson, you know--was talking to me about -this very lawn fête that the Montagues are giving up at the hall -to-night, and he said it was to announce Miss Rosalind’s betrothal -to Senator Bonair’s handsome son, the one that rode with her this -morning, Berry. And he went on to say--what do you think, my dear?” -triumphantly. - -“I don’t know, I’m sure,” Berry answered, with a sudden paling cheek, -while she said to herself, in dismay: - -“Oh, no, no, no, he is not engaged to her--he cannot be! He loves -me--me only!--and he will surely come and tell me so!” - -“He said, my dear, that he was hoping to have a lawn fête, too, very -soon, to announce his engagement to the sweetest and prettiest girl in -New Market, if she would have him, and he wanted her mother to ask her -to-night if she would. Now can you guess?” smiling broadly. - -“N-no, mamma!” faltered Berry. - -“Why, then, you are very stupid, indeed, to-night, and I never found -you so before! Well, then, it’s you, child, you, poor little Berry -Vining, he wants to marry, when he might aspire almost to the highest. -What a match for you, dearie! Aren’t you proud and glad?” - -Berry, stamping her little foot, cried out petulantly: - -“Mamma, you must surely be going crazy! The idea of marrying old -Wilson, indeed! Older than my own father, for he began as errand boy in -Wilson’s shop, and then old Wilson must have been white-headed!” - -“He was not, you pert minx, he was only a young married man, not more -than ten years over your father’s age! But what does that matter, when -he’s a widower now, worth a hundred thousand dollars, and willing to -stoop to marry a poor girl whose father drove his delivery wagon, and -whose mother works by the day in the shop to take care of you!” - -“I wouldn’t marry the old blear-eyed miser if every hair of his head -were gold and strung with diamonds, but you may take him yourself, -mamma, if you want him so badly in the family!” cried Berry, with -mocking laughter. - -“I only wish he would give me the chance, since you are such a fool!” -angrily replied the disappointed mother, who craved the ease and -comfort for her old age that Mr. Wilson’s money would give to herself -and pretty, thoughtless Berenice. - -She flung herself down on the kitchen lounge for her usual evening nap -after tea, and her daughter, still laughing at the ridiculous suit of -her aged wooer, hastened outdoors to the front gate to watch every -passer-by with a throbbing heart, in the eager hope of his coming--his, -her lover, for she would call him that in spite of a hundred Rosalinds! -It was false what they said of his betrothal to the proud, rich beauty, -with her flax-gold hair and bluebell eyes. She could never believe it, -never, after all that had passed to-day--the bow, the flashing glance -of love, the gift of the roses. Presently he would be coming to tell -her that he loved her, and her alone. - -It was one of those moonlight nights in early September, that seem like -June. The full moon shone in a cloudless sky, sown thick with stars; -the air was warm and fragrant, and seemed to pulsate with love. Every -girl remembers how on such a night she has hung over the front gate, -gowned in white, with a rose in her hair, waiting and watching for a -lover dearer to her heart than all the world beside! - -Berenice did not watch long in vain, for it was a true presentiment -that told her the idol of her heart was coming. - -Men and women passed and repassed for almost an hour, but at last her -heart leaped with subtle ecstasy, for one paused and stood in front of -her, gazing down with a smile into her starry eyes. - -“Ah, Miss Vining, good evening!” cried a musical voice. “You see, I -have found out your name. Mine is Charley Bonair. Do you remember me?” - - - - -CHAPTER III. SWEETHEARTS. - - -Remember him? ah! - -Berry could have laughed aloud at the tender question. - -She knew that she could never forget his glance and smile of this -morning her whole life long. - -Yet, with her pretty head poised, coquettishly, on one side, and her -eyes half veiled under their shady lashes, she faltered demurely: - -“I--I--believe you are the same gentleman that passed with Miss -Montague this morning, and bowed to me.” - -“Yes, you are right,” he answered, with a soft laugh, as he leaned his -elbows on the gate with his face very close to her, while he continued -tenderly: - -“And from the first moment I saw your lovely face I could not get you -out of my mind. I asked Miss Montague who was that pretty young girl, -and she frowned at me, and said: ‘There’s not a pretty face that can -escape you, Charley; but that is only little Berry Vining, the daughter -of a poor tailoress, not in our set at all, so don’t ask for an -introduction.’” - -Berry’s cheeks grew hot, and her heart thumped with anger as she said -to herself: - -“I’ll pay you out for that, my proud lady, by taking him away from you!” - -Handsome Charley Bonair continued wheedlingly: - -“As I couldn’t get properly introduced to you, I thought I’d present -myself. I see you are wearing some of my roses.” - -“Thank you so much for them; I love roses dearly,” murmured Berry, in -shy bliss, her head in such a whirl under his laughing, ardent glance, -that she hardly knew whether she was standing on her head or on her -feet. - -In his black evening suit, and a white carnation in his buttonhole, he -was superbly handsome, and carried with him that subtle aroma of wealth -and position so alluring to a poor girl brought for the first time in -contact with uppertendom. It was as if a being from another sphere, -a distant star, had fallen at her feet, stooping to lift her to his -dazzling height. - -Trembling with mingled pride and love and joy, she looked up at him -with her heart in her eyes, her tender secret plain as day to him, -almost too easy a conquest to the blasé young man of the world. - -But he continued to smile very tenderly at her, and venturing to clasp -her little hand as it clung to the top of the fence, he said: - -“I am due at the Montagues’ lawn fête presently, but will you come -with me for a little spin in my run-about first? It is just around the -corner, and this is the finest night I ever saw for a moonlight drive.” - -“Oh, I shall be delighted--but--but--I must ask mamma first,” declared -the happy girl. - -“Oh, no, for explanations would delay our drive, since I must soon be -back to the hall. We will be home before she knows we are gone. Only -a two-mile spin, dear little girl,” pleaded the tempter, pressing her -little hand. - -She thought: - -“Mamma is asleep by now, and it would be a pity to arouse her from her -nap. Surely there’s no harm in going, as I shall be back before she -misses me! And I shall so like to have this triumph over proud Miss -Montague, who tried to belittle me in his dear eyes.” - -He saw that she was yielding, and, unlatching the gate, quickly drew -her outside, placing her small, trembling hand on his arm, and leading -her to the waiting trap. - -A moment more, and he was lifting her into the elegant little trap, -drawn by a magnificent blooded bay horse, whose silver-mounted harness -glittered in the moonlight. Seating himself by her side, he took up -the reins, and away they went through the town and out upon the broad -country road, where the air, with the salty tang from the sea, was -fresh and sweet and exhilarating. - -“Almost seems like eloping, does it not?” laughed Charley Bonair. “What -if it were so, dear little girl?” - -Berry caught her breath with a startled gasp, a dizzy suspicion running -through her mind. - -Did he mean it? - -Was it an elopement sure enough? Was he taking her away to marry her, -now, to-night? - -What would Rosalind Montague say? - -She never dreamed of resisting if such were his will. - -Poor little Berry was under the intoxicating spell of a maiden’s first -love, and it did not seem to her as if her splendid hero could do -anything wrong. - -The bay horse flew over the smooth road, the fresh air blew in their -faces, lifting the soft curls from Berry’s white brow, and she felt -like one in Elysium. She was dwelling in a new and beautiful world, the -golden land of love. - -Yet, when her companion gently attempted to slip an arm about her -waist, she decisively repulsed him. - -“No, no; you must not make so free--we are almost strangers,” she -exclaimed, blushing warmly. - -“Strangers! Why I love you, little girl! Cannot you love me a little in -return?” he pleaded. - -Berry was about to answer him yes, taking this for a proposal of -marriage, when she suddenly remembered the gossip about his betrothal -to Rosalind, and drawing back, she faltered tremulously: - -“But--but--they say that you are engaged to marry Miss Montague!” - -“Bah! What has that to do with your being my sweetheart, I wonder; she -need not know about it,” laughed Charley Bonair, leaning as close to -her as she would permit, for she was recoiling in perplexity, murmuring: - -“But is it true?” - -“Why, yes, little one, I’m to marry her some day, I suppose! Deuced -pretty girl, you know, and in ‘my set,’ and all that--very proper, of -course. But I mean to have as many sweethearts as I like, before and -after the wedding, if you please!” - -If he had thrust a knife in her tender heart Berry could not have -moaned more piteously, for all at once he seemed to her a monster -instead of an adorable Prince Charming. With that heartbreaking little -moan, she cried plaintively: - -“Oh, take me home, take me home quickly! Please, please, please!” - -And though the moon and stars still gleamed on as brightly as before, -it seemed to her tortured mind as though the whole sky were veiled in -inky darkness, and her dream of love and happiness had faded as before -a chilling wintry blast. - -He had told her he was indeed to marry Rosalind, but that he should -continue to have as many sweethearts as he pleased! He dared even think -she would consent to be one of them! - -She began to tremble like a wind-blown leaf, and as he only laughed in -answer to her pleading, she added wildly: - -“You are cruel; you are wicked, to be making love to me when you are -to marry another! I will have no more to do with you, so there, there, -there!” and tearing the roses from her breast and hair, Berry flung -them in his face with the passionate fury of “the woman scorned.” - -“You dear little vixen!” he exclaimed, boisterously, without turning -back. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. LEGITIMATE GAME. - - -To the gay young gallant, Berry’s anger only made her more charming. -She had seemed too easy a prize before, for he had read her heart very -quickly by the light of former experiences. - -A millionaire senator’s only son, and not many years older than Berry, -he looked upon this poor young girl who had fallen in love with him so -easily as only legitimate game if he could win her heart. - -Like a flash, it came to him with her bitter words that she could not -be so lightly won, that she was proud and pure as she was fair. - -The realization of this fact only made her more interesting. Now he -swore to himself he would not relinquish the pursuit. There would be -more zest in it thus. - -So he only laughed at her entreaties to turn back, only laughed as the -roses pelted his face and stung him with their thorns, only urged the -bay to a greater speed, until Berry, her brief anger passed, suddenly -crouched in her seat, sobbing forlornly, in woe and grief: - -“Oh, why did I come? What made me so foolish? Hadn’t I always been -told that rich young men had little use for poor girls, only to rob -them of their happiness! Oh, Heaven, spare me from this wretch, and -send me safely back to poor mamma!” - -“Oh, come now, little darling, don’t be so foolish,” coaxed Charley -Bonair. “Don’t you know I wouldn’t harm one hair of that pretty little -head! Why, I only brought you out for a pleasant drive, and presently -I’ll take you home safe to your mamma. Maybe I was rather mistaken in -you at first, and thought you would be my little sweetheart for the -asking. But I surely know better now, and I own I respect you more for -it. Come, come, little girl, let us be friends again! Haven’t I been -honest with you? Don’t I own my engagement to Rosalind, although ’pon -honor, I almost like you better. But I couldn’t marry you, darling, -even if I were free of Rosalind, for my proud, rich father and sisters -would never forgive us the mésalliance; and my father would withdraw my -allowance, and we should be poor as church mice; see?” - -He had spoken gayly, but earnestly, and Berry, who had ceased her -sobbing to listen to him, faltered, softly: - -“If I loved any one very much I could be happy with him, even if we had -not a cent in the world!” - -The bashful avowal half sobered his gayety, and he exclaimed: - -“Do you mean that for me, little one? That you could love me penniless, -could marry me if the old dad cut me off with a shilling, and be happy -with me on bread and cheese and kisses?” - -“Yes, I could,” declared Berry ardently, forgetting in the passion of -pure, first love all her ambitious dreams for the future. In a moment -his arm slipped around her waist, and he drew her to him, crying -recklessly: - -“I’ll take you at your words, sweetheart; I’ll marry you to-morrow.” - -“How dare you kiss me?” Berry cried, fighting him off with her weak, -white hands. “Take your arm from my waist! You cannot deceive me with -false vows. You are going to marry Rosalind Montague, who has your -promise.” - -“Bad promises are better broken than kept. I’ll marry you, my little -darling, and tell Rosalind to find another husband!” Bonair answered, -with another reckless laugh, still speeding his horse onward, though -they were miles and miles away from home by this time, out in the open -country, where houses were few and far between. - -“I will not listen to your false promises. Oh, take me home, if you -have the least regard for me! I did wrong to come, I know, but take me -back before mamma misses me!” entreated Berry, clutching his arm with -hysterical energy, tears raining down her pallid cheeks. - -All at once she had lost faith in him, and his kisses had frightened -her with their fervor, as she realized by the light of the words he had -spoken the vast distance between their positions: he, the millionaire -senator’s son; she, the daughter of the poor tailoress. No, no, he -could never stoop to her, she could never drag him down--he was for -Rosalind, his equal. As for her, life was over--she loved him so she -could never love another, but she must die of her despair. - -But Charley Bonair kept on laughing at her wild entreaties. - -“Not yet--not yet!” he cried hilariously, while he urged the bay on, -and still onward under the silvery moonlight. “Listen, Berry, I have a -clever plan to humiliate Rosalind and cause her to break the engagement -so that I may marry you: I shall take you back to the lawn fête, and -dance with you there as my guest, with Rosalind and my haughty sisters. -Oh, how angry they will be! If they order you to leave I shall defy -them, and we will dance on and on, and Rosalind will be furious, vowing -she will never speak to me again. How do you like my plan? Will you -come with me back to the hall now?” - -“Oh, never, never!” cried Berry, shrinking in horror from his -sensational proposition, frightened, eager to escape. - -“You shall!” laughed Bonair abruptly, turning his horse’s head to -return. - -“I will not!” she shrieked indignantly, and rose to her feet, reckless -with despair. The next moment, to his horror, she sprang over the -wheel, out into the rocky road, before he could lift a hand to prevent -her. - - - - -CHAPTER V. THE TURNING POINT. - - -As long as he lived, Charley Bonair would never forget that tragic -moment. - -All at once, the fumes of wine passed from his brain, and left him -sober and horrified, the heart sinking like lead in his breast. - -It flashed over his mind that Berry’s wild leap for liberty, made just -as he turned the vehicle around, could hardly fail to result in her -instant death on the rough and rocky road. - -A loud groan escaped his blanched lips, and he drew the frightened -horse swiftly back upon its haunches that he might spring out to go to -her assistance. - -But the spirited animal, frightened out of all reason by Berry’s leap, -and his master’s wild cry of alarm, now spurned control, and darted -forward at headlong speed, dragging the lines from Bonair’s hands, so -that the light trap rocked so wildly from side to side he could barely -keep his seat by clinging to the edges. - -He felt himself rushing to instant death, and in his horror over -Berry’s fate, he did not greatly care, though the instinct of -self-preservation made him shout aloud while he clung desperately to -the swaying vehicle that, after a mile or so of this tremendous rush, -became shattered into pieces, mercifully enough for him, because he -suddenly fell through the wreck to the ground, miraculously unharmed. -The maddened horse still rushed forward with furious leaps, trying to -rid himself of the fettering shafts that clung and hindered his flight. - -He lay prostrate in the dust several moments, bruised, battered, and -shaken, but, luckily, with no bones broken, so that presently he stood -upright again, the only living thing in sight upon the lonesome road. - -The moon and stars shone down upon him coldly, and the night winds -seemed to reproach him in subtle whispers. - -“Where is she, the girl who trusted you, whose tender faith you -shattered with your reckless words?” it seemed to say. - -With a groan he looked backward, then retraced his steps with -difficulty, he was so shaken up from the shock and the fall. - -But he knew that he must find her, dead or alive, must restore her to -her home, for which she had pleaded pitifully. - -There was a great ache, deep down in his heart, a passionate repentance -for his folly, a dawning love greater than any he had ever known in his -wild career. - -“If Heaven would listen to such a sinner, I’d pray to find her, living -and unhurt,” he thought wildly. “Surely if my unworthy life could be -spared, hers should be! Dear, little, innocent Berry!” - -Toiling wearily and anxiously along the road, he regained the spot -where Berry had sprung to her fate. With a wild heart-throb he saw her -white figure lying prone on the ground. - -“Not dead! oh, not dead!” he prayed wildly, as he bent over the -prostrate form. - -Still and white, and seemingly lifeless, she lay, poor little girl; but -placing his hand above her heart, he felt a faint, irregular flutter -that assured him of life. - -He looked wildly about for assistance, his pale face transfigured with -joy. - -“Berry, dear little Berry, speak to me,” he cried fondly; but there was -no reply. - -The dark lashes did not lift from the pallid cheeks, the sweet lips did -not open to answer his pleading cry, the little hand he clasped seemed -already cold with approaching death. - -“Oh, if some one would happen along! If I only had a vehicle!” he -groaned, sweeping his glance up and down the lonely road for a sign -of life anywhere. But there was neither man nor house in sight, only -unbroken vistas of trees lining the dreary road, and in the distance -the prolonged baying of a hound that sent an evil shudder along his -veins. - -They were at least five miles from town, and he remembered with -sickening self-reproach how he had promised Berry that it should be so -short a drive, not over two miles at the longest. - -“My accursed selfishness and vanity caused it all! If she dies, her -death lies at my door,” was the thought that beat upon his bewildered -brain. - -Every moment of unconsciousness brought her death nearer and nearer; -he realized it with cruel force. “Ah, Heaven, what should I do?” he -cried, kneeling over her there in the dusty road, marveling even in his -remorse and grief at the fairness of her pallid face. - -There was only one thing to do--he must carry her back to town in his -arms, since there was no other way. - -Like Richard the Third, he could have cried out: “My kingdom for a -horse!” - -Realizing all the bitterness of his plight, he bent down and took -Berry’s limp figure in his arms and started out to trudge the distance -back to town. - -Ordinarily this would have been no great feat, for Charley Bonair was -an athlete of renown among his fellows. But he had got such a severe -shaking up himself, besides partially spraining his ankle, that he was -not very fit for the burden he now started out to carry. - -He trembled under the weight of Berry, and the perspiration ran down -his face in streams, while he had to hide his lips to suppress groans -of agony, as the weak ankle now and then twisted under him so that he -could barely proceed. - -But he set his teeth, grimly, vowing: - -“I shall take her home if I die for it. It is the only atonement I can -make for my sin. How dared I think I could flirt with this pure, sweet -little darling!” - -He thought with wonder of her exquisite innocence and ignorance, of how -surely she had believed at first that he really wished to marry her -when she was so far beneath him in the social scale. - -“I shall never forget her pride and anger when I showed her my real -nature,” he thought ruefully. “Ah, what a strong sense of honor! How it -put me to the blush! She is too good for me, sweet little Berry! It is -better to marry Rosalind, who knows all my faults, doubtless, and is -not very saintly herself.” - -Suddenly he paused in distress, and looked about him. - -The moon had gone under a dark cloud, the air had turned chill, a -flurry of rain beat down upon him, groping in thick darkness with that -dead weight in his arms. It was one of the sudden changes in September -weather, capricious as April. - -“We must get under shelter, somehow, somewhere!” he thought, looking -toward the trees, then a cry of joy shrilled over his lips. - -Among the trees he saw a light flare up like a precious jewel in the -gloom. It came from the windows of a house. - -He staggered toward it, drenched with rain, agonized at every step with -his sprained ankle, and his mind in a tumult. How he gained the porch -he scarcely knew, but he saw that it was a sort of tavern. - -He stumbled on the steps and fell prone with his lovely burden. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. THE BOOK OF FATE. - - -“Hello! What is this? Looks romantic!” cried a gay, female voice, as -the owner ran forward, followed by several curious people, who united -in concern for the drenched and hapless strangers thus cast upon their -care. - -With lively ejaculations of wonder, they got the pair into a large, -shabby sitting room, where a troupe of stage people were making merry. - -The most warm-hearted people on earth, they began, without any -questions, to relieve their guests. Presently Bonair was able to -explain reservedly: - -“I was driving out with that young lady, a friend of mine, when my -horse became frightened and ran away, throwing us both out. The -accident happened about a mile back, and I carried the young girl in my -arms, hoping to find a doctor somewhere.” - -“There is one in the house and he has already gone to her assistance,” -they told him. - -“Tell him to save her life at whatever cost. I would give my own life -to save that girl,” he cried anxiously, causing a sympathetic smile all -around. - -No one blamed him, for one look at Berry’s lovely face seemed to them -sufficient excuse for the greatest devotion. - -Meanwhile they found Bonair needing attention, also, for his injured -foot was rapidly swelling and causing pain. The doctor came in -presently and gave it the necessary attention, saying that his patient -was reviving, and would presently be herself again, he hoped. There -were some superficial bruises, but he hoped there was no internal -injury. - -“Thank Heaven!” cried Bonair fervently, pressing a roll of bills into -the physician’s hand, while he added: - -“If a covered vehicle can be had, I would like to take the young girl -home to her mother, who may be uneasy at her delay.” - -“But, my dear sir, that will be most imprudent; I should not like my -patient to be moved until to-morrow. As for you, you might send word to -her mother to come here.” - -The young fellow shrank a little. He wondered how Mrs. Vining would -take the news. He would doubtless get a sound berating from the old -woman. - -“But I have fully deserved it, and I will take my punishment like -a man,” he thought grimly, and ordered the vehicle to be got ready -quickly. - -“There is a terrible storm raging--it is equinoctial weather, you -know. Better wait till it clears up,” they said. - -“No, I will not wait, if a man can be found to drive me. That poor -mother will be very anxious,” he answered firmly. - -In the teeth of the driving storm they set forth, but Charley Bonair -never reached his destination. - -The driver, a sulky-looking fellow, who had observed Bonair’s display -of money at the inn, as well as his diamond ring, assaulted and robbed -his passenger on the way to town, and left him for dead upon the -highway. - -When found the next morning, there was indeed but little life left in -him--not enough to recognize any one, or to remember aught that had -happened. Life became a blank to him for many days. - -The return of his horse to the stable with the fragments of the trap -clinging to the harness told what had happened to him, and no one -suspected that a beautiful young girl had been his companion on that -mad ride. - -He could not speak and tell the story, for he lay ill and unconscious -many days, and none guessed that the strange and continued -disappearance of Berry Vining lay at his door. - -The mother herself had found a plausible reason for her daughter’s -absence. - -She believed that Berry had fled in anger over their quarrel that -night, dreading lest she should be coerced into a marriage with the -merchant tailor. - -“We had a quarrel, and I believe she ran away in a fret. No, I don’t -think she has committed suicide. Berry wasn’t that kind of a girl,” -she said, adding hopefully, “she has maybe gone and got a situation in -a store in New York, and will write to me when she gets over her mad -spell.” - -The neighbors accepted this view of the matter, and no one could -gainsay it. Mrs. Vining’s misfortunes with her children were an old -story! She was always bewailing the disappearance of her handsome son -by a former marriage: a son who had deserted her and gone none knew -where. - -Berry did not return, and no tidings came of her, but the deserted -mother kept on at her work in patient sadness, hoping and praying for -the welfare of her headstrong child, though too poor to make a search -for the truant. - -Thus the hand of Fate abruptly closed the first chapter in the -acquaintance of Charley Bonair and the pretty village maid. - -For when he recovered memory and consciousness far into October, they -told him weeks had elapsed since he had been thrown from his trap and -nearly killed, and that only the most skillful nursing had saved his -life. - -No one could answer the mute question in his eyes, for the secret of -that night had never transpired, though he wondered how it had been so, -saying to himself that Berry was a girl in a thousand to have held her -tongue over such an accident. - -“It is better so,” he said to himself, in keen relief, yet he resolved -he would write her a note of thanks, which he hastily did, only to get -it returned with the information that Miss Vining was gone away. - -When cautious inquiries brought out the reputed facts of her -disappearance, he was dazed with wonder. He made a secret trip to the -old inn, but he found it closed and uninhabited. - -It was a very bad moment that came just then to handsome, reckless -Charley Bonair. - -He was terrified at the mysterious disappearance of the winsome little -beauty. He asked himself in an agony what had been her fate, cursing -himself for having left her at the inn that night. - -“What did I know of those people there? How dared I leave her -unprotected among them? Judging from the fellow that robbed and nearly -murdered me that night, the whole gang must have been rough and -dangerous. Ah, little one, what has been your cruel fate?” he groaned -to himself, tormented by the mystery that was so hard to fathom, -because he dared not make any public hue and cry through fear of -betraying Berry’s wild ride with him that, if known, must inevitably -compromise her in every one’s eyes, despite her innocence. - -The upshot of it all was that he went, privately, to a detective, and -saying nothing of his real purpose, employed him to find out where the -people had gone who kept the inn. - -The owner of the house was found, and reported that the tenant, an old -man, had died of apoplexy a month before. His servants were scattered -and could not be found. - -The identity of the theatrical troupe was next inquired into, and soon -learned to be the Janice James Company. They could not be traced now, -only in so far as that they had disbanded and scattered, some joining -other companies, others going back to their homes, so that Bonair’s -next move through the detective was to offer a reward through the -personal columns of the New York papers for information regarding any -member of the troupe. But weeks elapsed without bringing any reply. - -Not even to the detective did Bonair confide his real motive for his -quest. A new respect and tenderness for the girl he had tried to trifle -with filled his mind, and made him as tenacious of her good name as if -she had been his sister or his wife. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. A SUSPECTED RIVAL. - - -“You may laugh at me for a superstitious girl, mamma,” declared -beautiful Rosalind Montague, “but I shall always believe that -postponements in love are ill-omened. Ever since the night of the lawn -fête, when my lover failed to appear, and the fête was broken up by the -sudden rainstorm that drenched all our pretty gowns, I have seen that -something has gone wrong between Charley’s heart and mine. Do you know, -mamma, he has never loved me the same, since his long illness?” - -“Just your fancy, dear. To me it seems that he is yet ill and nervous -after his terrible experience with his runaway horse that night. I -have seen him start and turn pale when no one was speaking, as if from -ghastly thoughts.” - -“That is true, mamma, perfectly true, and he shudders sometimes when I -barely touch his hand, and he is cold as ice to me, mamma, cold as ice. -He seldom comes here, only when I send for him, and he never alludes -to our engagement. Do you believe that his illness can have dazed his -brain, that he can have forgotten?” - -“It may be so--who can tell?” cried the proud old lady in velvet and -diamonds. “I would sound him gently on the subject, Rosalind.” - -“But, mamma, I should not know what to say, how to begin,” exclaimed -the girl, with a slight blush. - -“Oh, that is easy enough, dear--all roads lead to Rome! Ask him if -he has any preference where to spend the honeymoon, or how long he -is willing to wait until the wedding--or if he does not think your -engagement ring is a little too loose--anything!” - -“Thank you, mamma, I’ll stir him up somehow, for at present he is a -very unsatisfactory lover. It almost looks as if I have a rival!” - -“Oh, nonsense, dear, who could rival beautiful Rosalind Montague, the -belle of her set, who won the millionaire’s son from a whole bevy of -conspiring mammas and daughters!” - -Rosalind smiled complacently at the flattery, and glanced at her -reflection in the tall pier glass--a fair reflection, indeed, of a -stately blonde with masses of flax-golden hair and large, blue eyes -that could soften with love or flash with anger till they looked like -points of blue steel. This delicate beauty, appropriately gowned in -rich attire, had indeed made Rosalind the belle of her set, “the rose -that all were praising.” - -It was the most natural thing in the world for Charley Bonair to fall -victim to her charms, even if his pretty sisters, her schoolmates, had -not conspired to bring it about, artfully throwing them together, ably -abetted by Rosalind and her scheming mamma. - -He was one of the greatest catches in fashionable society--the only son -of the millionaire senator, and although Madam Rumor said ungracious -things of him--that he was dissipated, profligate, libertine--what of -that? He would inherit several of his father’s millions, and could -cover his wife with diamonds if he wished, so one must overlook the -spots on the sun! Rosalind knew that she could not get a perfect -husband. - -To do the pretty Bonair girls justice, they were eager for the match, -because they believed that marriage would reform their brother. And who -so suitable a bride as Rosalind, their school friend, well-born, well -dowered, beautiful, queenly, and secretly adoring the handsome prodigal! - -So, among them all, they set a snare for Charley, and tripped him up. -His battered heart succumbed easily. Rosalind had scored a triumph -over all the beauties! Both families were charmed, and looked eagerly -forward to the wedding day. - -Right here was where Charley failed in loverlike duty, for he neglected -to ask his betrothed to set the wedding day, apparently quite -satisfied to make it a long engagement. - -Mrs. Montague was not altogether pleased at his lukewarmness. To offset -it, she planned the lawn fête to announce the betrothal. When the fact -became public property, he must name the day. - -We have seen how fate stepped in between and foiled their plans, -and how the ominous shadow of that night’s disappointment hung over -Rosalind’s ambitious hopes. - -“What has put this notion of a rival in your head, dear girl?” -continued the mother curiously. - -Rosalind hesitated a moment, and a cold, angry glitter shone in her -eyes, as she whispered: - -“Mamma, of course I know the hard things that are said of Charley--that -he is fond of cards, women, and wine. Well, I happen to know that the -very day of our fête, even by my very side, my lover was attracted by a -new beauty, and could not hide his admiration.” - -“A new beauty--who?” demanded Mrs. Montague uneasily. - -“You will be startled, mamma, but you will see that I am not jealous -without a cause. Listen,” and Rosalind poured out the story of the -morning ride when Charley Bonair had bowed to and admired little Berry -Vining. - -“He said, to my very face, that she was the prettiest girl he ever saw, -but I told him how poor and humble she was, and ridiculed his fancy. I -found out afterward that he rode back from my side to the florist’s, -and sent her a great bunch of red roses. Was not that enough to make -any engaged girl angry and jealous, mamma?” - -“I must admit you are quite right, darling. Oh, what wretches men are!” - -“Yes, indeed, and naturally after that I was jealous and suspicious. -When he did not come that night I was almost wild, wondering if I was -deserted already for the little village beauty. I did not sleep that -night for anger and grief, though I was too proud to tell you until -now, when I can no longer bear my trouble alone, because I am haunted -always by two torturing questions.” - -“What are they, my love?” - -“One is this, mamma: ‘What became of that girl when she disappeared so -suddenly from home that night? And--did Charley Bonair know anything of -her flight?’” - -“You suspect him of treachery?” - -“Have I not cause? How strangely she fled from home! How lame were her -old mother’s guesses at the truth! No girl could be forced to marry a -rich old man against her will. Then again, mamma, how strange that -Charley should be taking a ride miles out into the country that night, -when he was overdue at our fête, where he was to be the guest of honor.” - -“You talk like a detective, Rosalind.” - -“Oh, mamma, do not ridicule me,” the girl clasped her white hands, -imploringly. “Think how much I love him, how much I have at stake! I -have puzzled out all this in torturing nights when I could not sleep -for jealous pain.” - -The proud woman of the world looked at her beautiful daughter, and a -deep sigh escaped her lips. Stifling it with a sarcastic smile, she -answered: - -“It is the way of the world, my dear; men are wicked, and women are -weak. It may be as you suspect, that he had a fancy for the girl, but -you need not worry over that; you are the one he will marry, and he -will tire of her and put her aside before your wedding day.” - -“But, mamma, I hate her! I would gladly see her dead, the little hussy! -How dare she accept his love, knowing, as all the town knows, that he -belongs to me! And who would have believed such a thing of little Berry -Vining, who seemed such a good, innocent little thing!” - -“Those good little girls like Berry are just the ones to be deceived -and ruined by designing men, child. But put it out of your thoughts, -love, do. We cannot alter the world nor mankind, and all I can say to -you is that it’s better not to brood over imaginary troubles. Bonair -shall marry you, darling, never fear.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. LOVED AND HATED. - - -“Time put his sickles in among the days,” and the weeks slipped away -and brought winter weather. - -But long before the first snow, Charley Bonair had gone away from -New Market, ostensibly for a yachting trip with some of his bachelor -friends, leaving Rosalind piqued and angry. - -For when she had asked him point-blank how long he wanted to wait -before the wedding, he had answered debonairly, that she might take all -the time she wanted. He guessed that both were young enough to wait -a while. Anyhow, he wanted to have this bachelor trip with the boys -before he thrust his neck into the matrimonial noose! - -Rosalind, secretly furious at his indifference, was on the point of -telling him to go and stay forever, but she bit the tip of her rosy -tongue, keeping back the sharp retort, and half sobbed instead: - -“Oh, Charley, I shall miss you so!” - -“I should hate to think that you were lonely, dear, but I don’t believe -you will be, for Lucile and Marie intend to have you with them in -California for the winter months, after Christmas. Will you go?” - -“Gladly, if you will promise to join us there when you come back.” - -“It’s a bargain,” he answered, laughing, but none of her entreaties -could prevail on him to fix the date of his return. - -He did not really know, he said. It would depend on the other fellows. -Meanwhile she was to enjoy herself in her own way; he would not find -fault nor get jealous! - -When he had gone away, she loved and hated him by turns, and she was -more than ever sure that Berry Vining had stolen his heart. - -“Oh, if I could find her, and were quite, quite sure of her guilt, I -would wreak a bitter vengeance,” she murmured angrily, to the silent -walls of her luxurious chamber. - -She would have given anything to know the whereabouts of the girl she -believed to be her rival. - -It nearly maddened her to think that Charley might be seeing her daily, -basking in her smiles, laughing with her, perhaps, over the deferred -wedding. Her hatred of the young girl grew each day, until it became a -passion for revenge. - -“My day will come! Let her look to herself, that day!” she vowed -bitterly. - -She went one day to the cottage on pretense of getting a cloth suit -pressed, and with pretended sympathy, asked Mrs. Vining if she had ever -had any news of the missing girl. - -Mrs. Vining wept as she declared that she had never heard any news of -her daughter. - -“She may be dead and buried for aught I know to the contrary, Miss -Montague.” - -“Perhaps she has eloped with a lover,” cried Rosalind, but the old -woman frowned, and answered quickly: - -“My girl was as pure and high-minded as the richest young lady in the -land, miss, and she would never stoop to disgrace.” - -“I hope it may prove so, indeed!” exclaimed Rosalind, from the depths -of her jealous heart, and she went away, promising to send her maid -with the tailor gown to be pressed. - -The little cottage with the morning-glory vines all dead, looked dreary -and deserted, and poverty-stricken; but poor as it was, the good widow -could barely pay the rent. Rosalind could not help but think, as she -walked away, that it was a poor setting for the lovely girl who had -fled away from it rather than exchange it for the gilded misery of a -loveless marriage, such as her mother had proposed. - -One thing she had told Mrs. Vining earnestly: - -“If you hear from your daughter, be sure and let me know, and I will -make it worth your while. I take a deep interest in little Berry, you -know.” - -Aye, the interest of the hawk in the dove, proud beauty! The mother -curtsied in gratitude, and thanked her for her kindness. - -And just before Christmas she was startled to receive a note from the -tailoress, saying she had heard from her little girl at last. She had -run away to be an actress, because life in New Jersey was too dull and -lonely. She had sent her mother a little money and a pretty picture -of herself, and begged her not to be angry, but she was touring in -California now, and it would be a long time before she came home again. - -“In California--Charley’s own State. It looks suspicious,” muttered -Rosalind, and she went over to the cottage to visit Mrs. Vining again. - -But she did not find out anything more, for the letter had been -mailed on a train, and Berry failed, perhaps by design, to tell her -destination, adding in a postscript: - - “I don’t ask you to write me, because I am always ‘on the go,’ but I - have means you do not guess, of sometimes hearing of your welfare.” - -“It is through him,” Rosalind thought bitterly, but she concealed her -agitation, and congratulated the widow, prettily, on having heard from -her daughter. Then promising to send her a handsome Christmas gift, she -took leave. - -Charley Bonair would have given thousands of dollars to know even what -Rosalind had heard about Berry; for he had begun to mourn her as dead, -and remorse stung like a serpent in his heart. - -Always remembering that the man from the inn, who had robbed and tried -to murder him, belonged to those people, he had decided they must all -be cut-throats and robbers, and that Berry had most likely met her -death at their hands. - -With a heavy heart he landed from the yacht at San Francisco, deciding -he would join his family there, and little dreaming the surprise -awaiting him. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. BLUE EYES AND BROWN. - - -Senator Bonair’s palatial home in the magnificent city of San Francisco -was ablaze with light and gayety that night. - -Though the millionaire owner himself was absent, in attendance on the -session of Congress at Washington, his two handsome daughters, with -their aunt, who chaperoned them since the death of their mother, had -preferred remaining at home this winter, and were entertaining a house -party. On this night they were giving a grand ball, and neither time -nor money had been spared to make it a great success. - -To make it more notable, the dancing was to be preceded by a theatrical -treat, a play given by actors employed for the occasion. The private -theater of the mansion had been refitted for the event, and a superb -orchestra engaged. - -To add to the pleasure of the evening, the manager assured his -employers that an entirely new play would be given--one written by a -member of his own company, a lovely young girl, who would herself play -the leading part in her clever production, “A Wayside Flower.” - -All the invited guests were on the qui vive, for the entertainments of -the Bonairs always surpassed any other given in the city, and hundreds -of hearts of gay young girls and happy swains fluttered in anticipation. - -As the time approached for the curtain to rise, not a seat in the small -theater was vacant. Exquisite ball gowns and jewels gleamed everywhere, -while the bright eyes of their wearers flashed upon their black-coated -companions with swift coquetry. - -Conspicuous among all, in a gown of white lace over azure satin, with -rare pearls clasping her slender throat, and binding her thick waves of -flax-gold hair, was Rosalind Montague, the honored guest of the house, -the betrothed of the senator’s only son. - -Rosalind had never looked more beautiful, and one who was gazing at her -from an obscure seat, an uninvited, unexpected guest, could not help -but acknowledge it in his heart with a thrill of pride. - -“Poor Rosy, I don’t see why I cannot love her better! She will make -a bride to be proud of when I conclude to settle down and become a -benedict.” - -Why was it, as he gazed at her brilliant blue eyes and sunny hair, that -dark brown eyes and curly chestnut locks came between him and Rosalind -so persistently? Why would not memory down, when it was torture to -remember! - -She never could be his, the little brown-eyed cottage maiden, who had -scorned him for his light love, and flung his roses back into his face. -How the thorns had stung, as well as the lash of her little tongue, -as she had berated him so soundly. Then when she had flung herself so -desperately from his vehicle to almost certain death, could he ever -forget that tragic hour? He stifled a groan, and shrank back farther -into the shade of the tall palm near the door, where he had slipped -into an irregular seat not in the rows. Oh, Heaven, what had been the -mystery of her fate? Since he could not fathom it, why could he not -forget? He must forget, he vowed, passionately to himself, for by -and by, when he became Rosalind’s husband, it would be a sin to his -blue-eyed bride for those haunting brown orbs to come between. - -When he landed first in the city a whim had made him go first to a -hotel, where, hearing of the entertainment going on at home, he had -gotten himself into evening dress and arrived at the last moment, when -his sisters, already in the box with Rosalind and other guests, were -waiting, momently, for the curtain to rise on the first act in the -play. It would not do to interrupt them now. Greetings must wait. - -Anyhow, they were not missing him. Several men were in the box with -them, giving attention and receiving it. He remembered he had told -Rosalind he should not care how much she flirted, and she was taking -him at his word. - -The blue eyes as they looked upward to the dark-eyed man bending so -eagerly to them, were very tender and languishing, and many a lover -might have been jealous, but Charley Bonair was not conscious of a -pang. Although he felt a certain pride and sense of proprietorship in -her beauty, he did not mind the other fellow’s palpable admiration. - -The chief thing that worried him now was that he was haunted by other -eyes--brown eyes, soft with love, brown eyes, flashing with anger, -always brown eyes! “Eyes it were wiser by far to forget.” - -Again he stifled a long-drawn sigh, and glanced at the curtain, for the -blare of the orchestra had begun, and presently the play would be on. -He remembered just then to look at the elegant program the usher had -thrust into his hand. - -He had barely time to see that the play was entitled “A Wayside -Flower,” when the orchestra ceased, and the curtain rolled up, showing -the first scene. - -He caught his breath with a gasp, and rubbed his eyes with a bewildered -hand, then looked again to see if his vision had played him false. - - - - -CHAPTER X. A TRAGEDY OF LOVE. - - -One easily guesses that “A Wayside Flower” was the story of a young -girl--beautiful, but poor. - -The rich hero’s fancy turned from his betrothed, the proud beauty, his -equal in wealth and station, to the simple village maiden. - -With all the arts of love he wooed her for his own. - -When the maiden, pure as snow, turned in grief and anger from the -proffer of the heart without the hand, he deceived her by a mock -marriage, swearing her to keep the secret. - -In the distant village, where they spent their blissful honeymoon, -she somehow discovered through a letter he had dropped that he was -betrothed to another, and the wedding day set. - -Undreaming of treachery, yet grieved for her hapless rival’s sorrow, -_Daisy_ reproached her young husband for his flirtations, and insisted -on his writing at once to the young girl to break off as gently as -possible the engagement he could never now fulfill. - -Carelessly assenting, _Chester_ wrote the letter under _Daisy’s_ eyes, -sealed and addressed it, and pretended to have her post it to make -sure. - -But he had cunningly slipped quite another sort of letter into the -envelope, and destroyed the one she had seen him write. - -By and by came the time when he must leave her alone and return to his -home, lest his rich father disinherit him on finding out the truth of -his marriage to the village beauty. - -He never returned. - -For a while came letters filled with love and devotion, and always -inclosing money for the little wife. - -Weary months slipped away, and brought the winter snows. The deserted -bride fell ill, and besought her husband to return to her side. - -Blank silence fell. No more letters, no more money. - -In the simple cottage where she boarded, the people began to hint at -desertion. The villainous son showed her loverlike attentions. - -When _Daisy_ repulsed him in anger he showed her a letter from her -husband that broke her heart. - -_Chester_ had written to the villain that the girl was not his wife. He -had deceived her by a mock marriage. Now he was weary of her, and would -see her no more. In fact, he was about to go abroad for years, and if -he, the villain, would marry the girl, he would pay him handsomely to -keep the whole thing quiet. - -For the sake of her beauty and the bribe he was offered, this poor -apology for manhood was ready to make _Daisy_ an honest wife, but when -she refused him with biting scorn he made his weak mother thrust her -into the street, homeless and penniless in the winter’s snow. - -_Daisy_ pawned her simple jewels and journeyed back to her deserted -home and widowed mother, praying only to die under the roof that had -sheltered her childhood and girlhood. - -Then she heard that there was to be a grand wedding up at the hall that -night. Her false lover was about to wed the beautiful heiress, his -social equal, his chosen mate. - -Poor little _Daisy_ had been plucked as carelessly as a wayside flower, -and thrown aside to die. - -The poor old mother, half crazed by her daughter’s shame and despair, -cried bitterly: - -“You have only yourself to blame, girl! I brought you up to shun rich -young men; I told you they had no use for poor girls but to wreck -their lives. You would not believe what I told you, you laughed at -my warnings, and fled with the villain that ruined you. Now you have -returned to drag out a wretched existence under the ban of scorn, while -he goes scot-free and weds another!” - -The wretched _Daisy_ knew that it was all true. She shut herself into -her room, and brooded over her trouble till her brain went wild. - -In the evening she came down to her mother, calm with the calmness of a -great despair. - -“I have thought it all over, dear mother,” she said gently. “I did -wrong to come back to you in my trouble; because you warned me and -I would not listen. So I have no right to stay here and cloud your -life with my shame and sorrow. I am going away forever. Good-by, dear -mother. Say that you forgive me before I die!” - -“What do you mean, child? Where are you going? What is this wild talk -of dying? Come back, _Daisy_; mother will forgive you,” cried the -poor mother, but _Daisy_ had fled through the door out into the cold -moonlight, shining on a world that was white with snow. - -“I must follow and bring her back. I scolded her too harshly,” the -mother cried, snatching her bonnet and hastening after her child. - -But her poor, rheumatic limbs could not keep pace with _Daisy’s_ flying -feet. She could not overtake her in time to prevent the tragedy. - -The bridal cortège was moving out from the gates of the hall, and some -little children belonging to the tenant were throwing flowers in front -of the bridal carriage as it started toward the church where the -fashionable throng was waiting. - -The clear moonlight and lamplight showed _Chester’s_ face plain as day, -as he sat by the side of the bride. - -With a cry of reproach and despair that shrilled to heaven, _Daisy_ -darted into the road, and flung herself under the horses’ feet. - -But _Chester_, sitting there, pale and handsome, on his way to his -wedding, had seen that lovely face upraised to heaven as she darted -forward, had heard that terrible cry, and it pierced his false heart -like an arrow. - -He gave an answering cry, and tearing open the carriage door, as the -vehicle swayed under the driver’s frantic efforts to throw the horses -back on their haunches, he sprang out and strove to tear _Daisy_ from -under their desperate hoofs. - -The maddened animals dragged the reins from the driver’s hands, and -their steel-clad hoofs came down with a dull thud upon _Chester’s_ and -_Daisy’s_ bodies as they writhed on the ground. - -It all passed more quickly than one could describe it, and almost -before the people in the next carriage knew that anything was happening -the ill-fated pair were drawn from their terrible position, crushed and -dying. - -The frightened bride, reckless of her white gown and slippers, sprang -out into the snow. - -“Oh, what has happened?” she cried, in wild alarm. - -Then she saw _Chester_ prone upon the ground, with blood streaming from -a cut in his head down over his pallid face, while he held to his heart -the slight figure of an unconscious girl. The bride knew the pale face -instantly. It was the little cottage maiden, who had eloped with a -mysterious lover whose identity no one knew. - -“Oh, _Chester_, what does this mean? What has happened to you?” -demanded the bride wildly, and turning his heavy eyes on her face, he -groaned: - -“_Geraldine_, I have sacrificed my life to save this poor girl!” - -“Why did you do it? What is she to you?” fiercely. - -Like an arrow from a bow straight to her heart came his answer: - -“The truth is cruel to you, _Geraldine_, but I feel that I am dying, so -I must make a full confession. I deceived this poor girl with a mock -marriage, then deserted her, returning to make you my lawful bride. -Realizing her despair, she has returned and chosen to die beneath my -horses’ feet. I have given my life vainly in the effort to save poor -little _Daisy_.” - -_Geraldine_ realized that people were crowding round about her, that -the white face of the “best man” was close to hers, his arms shielding -her from falling to the ground, but she kept her eyes glued on that -pale, dying face, and her ears strained not to lose a sound of that -weak, dying voice. - -“_Geraldine_,” he faltered on, “I meant to marry you for wealth and -position, but in my heart I loved _Daisy_ best. I was not worthy of -your love, but I pray you to forgive me, and to see that I am buried by -the side of the girl who was my wife in the sight of Heaven.” - -He had thought little _Daisy_ dead, but suddenly her dim eyes flared -open and rested adoringly on his face. Her dulled hearing had caught -words that made her ineffably happy. - -“Darling!” he muttered brokenly. - -The best man stifled _Geraldine’s_ cry of rage with a daring hand upon -her lips. - -“Forgive him, dear, you shall not miss him,” he whispered tenderly. -“Do you remember how we loved each other before that lovers’ quarrel, -when he came between? Now you know he was unworthy, let us begin again, -dear. Tell him you forgive and will do his will.” - -_Geraldine_ trembled at the warm touch of his hand, and bending over -_Chester_, gave the promise he asked. - -“I forgive you; you shall rest side by side,” she faltered, not a -minute too soon, for in another moment the lovers were both dead, -clasped in each other’s arms. - -The first scene in “A Wayside Flower” showed the heroine singing a love -song at a window wreathed in morning glories, and as Bonair gazed in -wondering agitation, he saw that the singer’s face was that of little -Berry Vining! - - - - -CHAPTER XI. THE CURTAIN FALLS. - - -Clever little Berry had taken the one romantic chapter out of her own -life’s history and made a romance out of it, such as her sad heart and -simple experience prompted--a trite little story enough, save for its -tragic ending. - -And as she had considerable histrionic ability, she was able to take -the leading part with much credit to herself, winning enthusiastic -applause from her audience. - -She could not have acted so cleverly had she known under whose roof she -was, and what eyes were gazing on her lovely face as she entered with -whole-souled spirit into her part. - -Charley Bonair stood apart to Berry in a little world of his own. She -scarcely connected him with the millionaire senator of California, -and his lovely sisters she had never seen. It was only the home of -a stranger to her, this palatial house where she had come with her -company to act for the pleasure of the ball guests. - -Life had been a whirl to Berry Vining since the night when she had -been carried senseless into the company of actors, who, charmed by her -exquisite beauty, had easily persuaded her to join them on the road. -Gifted with much natural dramatic talent, she had quickly “caught on” -to the art, and now earned a subsistence by her work. In this arduous -life, too, she could more easily put from her the memory of her -shattered love dream, so brief, so bitter-sweet. - -Yet in quiet moments it returned to vex her soul, so that she wove the -beginning into a story of love and sorrow that grew and grew until her -morbid fancy shaped it into a tragic romance. - -Meanwhile the death of the leading lady gave Berry her position, and -she had a chance to act her romance on the boards of the Bonairs’ -private theater. - -It was easy to put her heart in it so wholly that the audience seemed -to her like so many lay figures, and she dreamed not that Charley -Bonair’s eyes watched her, eagerly, from far back at the door, where -an artificial palm half hid him from sight, while from a prominent box -Rosalind Montague gazed in startled wonder, almost as if Berry had -risen from the dead. - -For it must be the little village beauty, the coincidence was too -striking to admit of a doubt. - -There sat the girl singing at the vine-wreathed window, just as on -that September morning, when the gay cavalcade of riders went past, -and Charley Bonair had turned her curly little head with his flashing -glance and bow--singing, too, the same sweet lay of love and longing: - - “My heart with joy would thrill if you loved me, - ’Twould give this life of mine its fill of ecstasy; - Each golden moment spent with you on wings of Joy would flee; - The sky would be a ceaseless blue if you loved me.” - -The gift of the roses followed next, and as Rosalind saw the fair girl -in her white gown kissing the flowers, and fastening them in her hair -and breast, she trembled with anger and jealousy. - -“The little minx! She has dared make a play out of her silly flirtation -with Charley,” she thought; “she dares even to play it in his own home, -hoping to meet his eyes again, but, thank Heaven, he is far enough away -from here, he will never know.” - -If a look could have killed pretty Berry, she must surely have fallen -dead upon the boards, so deadly was the hatred with which Rosalind -watched her, for she thought: - -“It is just as I suspected between Charley and her, the little hussy! -He eloped with her, and, perhaps, was with her until he went on that -yachting trip to shake off her fetters. It is doubtful if there was -even any pretense of a marriage between them. No doubt she was eager -enough to go without a wedding ring, thinking of the money she could -cajole out of her rich lover. Oh, I see just how it is now! She is -very clever, this Berry Vining--she came here trying to win him back, -thinking he may have got home again! Oh, how glad I am he is still -away, for he would easily fall into her toils if he were here, the weak -fool, carried away by every pretty face! How well she acts! I never -dreamed it was in that cottage girl, such cleverness in writing a play, -and then acting it. She is indeed a rival to be dreaded, and I must do -something to get rid of her, that is clear. Even if Charley tired of -her once, he would love her again in this pretty play that shows her -off to so great advantage! Oh, what wretches men are, as mamma says! -How they make a girl’s heart ache with jealousy over their fickle love! -If I did not love him myself, I would not care so much, but he’s all -the world to me, my Charley! What shall I do to get rid of her before -he returns to the city? If mamma were here she would tell me not to -mind, that it could never come to aught but a light love. But I do -mind; I will not endure his unfaithfulness! If I thought no one could -even find me out, I believe I could almost strike her dead before me, I -hate her with such intense fury!” - -“Rosy, how strange you look! You are pale, and your eyes gleam with -blue fire. The poor girl’s trouble seems to be getting onto your -nerves! But she is really a very clever actress, and enters well into -the part,” exclaimed Marie Bonair, with a suddenness that made her -start and tremble. - -But she rallied herself, and murmured back: - -“It’s really quite thrilling, and I almost forgot where I was, dear. -This was the third act, wasn’t it?” - -“Yes, and I’m almost sorry; I have been so interested. Every one else -is, too. See how eagerly they keep their eyes on the stage. Our play -was a great success. Well, we will soon come to the banquet, and then -the dancing. Do you know that we have spread an elegant collation for -the actors, too, in the small dining room?” - -“How very nice of you, Marie!” murmured Rosalind, but to herself she -added viciously: - -“I wish I could poison that girl’s wine undetected! I wish some of the -stage properties would get on fire and destroy her beauty, anyway. Oh, -anything that could happen to that girl would be welcome to me, so that -he never saw her face again.” - -The fell spirit of murder had entered the jealous girl’s heart! - -The curtain rose again on the fourth act, and although the introduction -of horses on the stage was a very difficult feat, still it was quite -well done. The lovers died, gracefully, in each other’s arms, and -the widowed bride clung fondly to the attentive best man. In the -vernacular of one of the troupe, the play had been a “howling success.” -The company was called back to receive the plaudits of the spectators, -and the audience rose at the leading lady with enthusiasm, pelting the -little beauty with flowers and jewels. - -But one man far back in the theater, hurried away with his hat before -his face. - -“I hope no one has recognized me, for I really am not fit to join my -people to-night. I must get away and collect my thoughts,” muttered -Charley Bonair. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. A PHANTOM AT DAWN. - - -“An Indian seeress in an alcove off the western corridor will tell -everybody’s fortune.” - -The whisper ran from lip to lip at the banquet table, where the players -were being feasted and wined by the hospitable Bonairs. - -The gay, impressionable people of the troupe were charmed with the -idea, and when they left the table they went en masse to the alcove, -chaperoned by the housekeeper, who under orders from her mistress was -doing the honors. - -As they were admitted one by one to the alcove, the others, waiting in -the magnificent corridor lined with tall palms, statues, and pictures, -strolled about, peering into rooms and admiring the splendor of the -palace where they were for the moment sojourners. - -The housekeeper, a portly, loquacious woman, kept by Berry’s side, -having conceived a liking for the lovely actress. - -“Would you like to see the folks dancing in the grand ballroom for a -minute or two? Come, then, I’ll give you a peep,” she said, leading the -willing girl quietly away from the others. - -The next thing they were out of doors, going along a quiet alleyway -bordered with fragrant blossoming trees, and the sound of dance music -came to them in a wild blare of melody. - -“Here now, look in at this window,” whispered the woman. - -Berry looked, and gasped: - -“It must be fairyland!” - -“’Tis grand, ain’t it, now?” replied the housekeeper. She watched -Berry’s dazed eyes taking in the immense room with its costly fitting, -tropical decorations, and dazzling lights under which moved a hundred -couples in each other’s arms, to the tilt of the intoxicating waltz -music, and smiled at the young girl’s wonder. - -“These Bonairs, you see, miss,” she explained, “are the richest folks -in California--what you call multi-millionaires--more money than they -know what to do with! I’ve been housekeeper to them these twenty-five -years. I came when they were first married. I was here when the -senator’s three children were born, and when his good wife died, and I -expect to be here till I die. Have you ever seen any of the Bonairs?” - -“Oh, no, never!” Berry answered absently, and the woman clacked on: - -“Then I’ll point them out to you if they come in sight. See that fat -lady, with the velvet gown and diamonds, and the white pompadour? That -is old Madam Fortescue, the senator’s widowed sister, who chaperoned -his two daughters, Misses Marie and Lucile, great beauties, both of -them, and both engaged to marry rich New Yorkers. I think they mean to -have a double wedding in the fall. It will be a great affair, you know. -Their brother, Mr. Charley, is engaged, too, to a New York belle and -beauty, and she’s here now, the guest of the house--Miss Montague! Why, -what’s the matter, miss? You startled so!” - -“Oh, nothing, don’t mind me! Go on, please!” Berry managed to -articulate, feeling as if the earth had heaved beneath her feet. - -The truth had burst upon her so suddenly that only by the greatest -effort could she keep her self-possession. - -With the utterance of Miss Montague’s name everything became clear. - -She was under the roof of Charley Bonair! - -She clung with both hands to the window ledge to hold herself steady, -and listened with a dull roar in her ears, while the woman continued: - -“Mr. Charley, now, he’s away on a long yachting trip, and dear knows -when he will be back. They do say he is sowing an awful crop of wild -oats, poor boy, but he’s good at heart, so he is. A dearer boy when he -was growing up, I never saw! And that fond of pets, why he has a fine -zoölogical collection on these grounds here. You wouldn’t believe it, -maybe, but he’s even got two bear pits, miss, and in one of them the -bear has two new cubs. She’s that savage over them, she would tear you -to pieces if you touched one of them! And birds and smaller animals, -now, you’d be surprised at the number. If you like to come here -to-morrow, I’ll take pleasure in showing you around. The little bear -cubs, my but they are cute! And to hear Zilla, their mother, growling -over them, it’s a wonder!--makes cold chills run over one, sure enough!” - -“They are running over me now!” gasped Berry, clutching the woman’s -hand with one that was as cold as ice. “I--I must go. Please take me -back to my friends; they will be going back without me!” - -“Oh, plenty of time, miss--you must stay till you get your fortune -told, sure.” - -“Really, I don’t care. I mean, I’d rather not,” faltered Berry, -trembling all over with a sudden nervous premonition of evil that shook -her like an ague. - -“Ah, don’t be scared at the old fortune teller, dear miss, she may -tell you something pretty,” urged the good-natured woman, guiding the -trembling girl back to the corridor and the alcove, where the last one -was coming out, and the merry troupe were chattering like magpies. - -“Oh, come, Miss Vane, she is waiting for you,” the gay girls cried, -pushing her in, and pulling to the curtains behind her. - -The horrible old Indian seeress enthroned among draperies of Eastern -tapestries, worth their weight in gold, and hideous in theatrical red -light, clutched the girl’s white hand, and peering at the rosy palm, -began to mutter a sibilant jargon of fateful words. - -And presently the actress, Vera Vane, who had risen from the ashes -of Berenice Vining, flung aside the draperies and rushed from her -presence, pale as a phantom at dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. AN ILL-FATED GIRL. - - -The merry actors and actresses all began to chaff Berry on her pale -face and frightened eyes. - -“She is actually scared!” “What did the old hag tell you, dear?” “She -gave all of us fine fortunes!” they chimed in together. But Berry put -them aside with a trembling hand, and sank, half fainting, into the -nearest seat. - -Mrs. Hopson, the housekeeper, came to her rescue. - -“Don’t pester the poor child till she gets over her scare. Land sakes, -miss, don’t take that nonsense to heart, please. Them old Indian squaws -don’t know the future any better than you do!” she said kindly, but -Berry did not hear the well-meant words. She had fainted. - -When she came to herself she was lying on a cot in Mrs. Hopson’s room, -and all the others were gone. - -“You were so long coming around I told them I’d keep you all night, or -send you back in a carriage when you felt better,” she explained. - -“Oh, you are very kind. I--I think that I will go presently, when I am -a little stronger. But do not let me, dear Mrs. Hopson, keep you from -your duties. I can lie here alone, please,” faltered Berry eagerly. - -“Very good, my dear miss, for I have many things to see to to-night, -and I’ll be very glad to have you for my guest till morning,” returned -the good woman, pressing a glass of wine on the young girl, and then -going out with a promise to be back in an hour. - -Left alone, Berry lifted her head and glanced eagerly at the clock. - -“Midnight--it lacks half an hour to it yet. Oh, must I keep that -strange tryst or not? Am I indeed menaced by so terrible a fate, and -can this old Indian really prevent the doom by the loan of so singular -a charm as she offers? It seems very foolish, but I have heard my dear -mother and her cronies often reiterate the same thing--that a person -born with a caul over the face--that is to say, a thin membrane of skin -that may be dried and preserved--is the fortunate possessor of a charm -against drowning--that such a charm may be bought or loaned, and always -proves a safeguard. How very strange; but there are many things we -cannot understand! And what was it the old fortune teller said of me? I -was fated to die a terrible death by water in twenty-four hours, unless -I could procure such a charm. She possessed one herself that she would -lend me for one week, when the risk would be over, but she must first -go home and procure it, and she would meet me in the grounds on the -northern walk going to the private zoo at the stroke of twelve. Shall -I go? Is it worth while living when one is alone in the world as I am, -for all my kindred now living are uncongenial to me, and there can -never be any love story for poor, deceived Berry, who gave her heart -too easily at first, but can never take it back again?” - -With a bursting sob, the girl pushed back the heavy locks from her -forehead, murmuring on: - -“Can it be true, as that old hag assured me, that my dear, dear mother -is dead? But she read my palm like an open book. I can see her yet -peering into my palm, hear her cracked, sepulchral voice mouthing such -dreadful words: ‘Little girl, your rosy palm has all the secrets of -your life clearly written there. You have drunk deep of the cup of -love, but the dregs were bitter; you looked above you for a lover, but -you had a beautiful rival, a high-born lady, who held his heart and his -hand. Hopeless of ever winning your heart’s idol, and destined by your -mother to a marriage for money, you deserted your home, and fled far -away with new friends. Is it not so?’” - -“You have spoken the truth,” sobbed hapless Berry. “Oh, I did not dream -you could find all that in the palm of my hand. But now you have told -me of the past, read me the story of my future. Tell me what awaits -the most ill-fated girl in the world.” - -“You may well say ill-fated,” croaked the hag, still clutching the -little white hand, and peering into its lines as one reads an open -book; “I read horror upon horror here, and--it is better not to know.” - -“Yes, tell me all,” cried Berry recklessly; “go on, go on!” - -With a heartless chuckle the seeress muttered: - -“Before I touch on the impending tragedy of your future I must return -to the past. The old mother who loved you so dearly, whom you deserted -so cruelly in her old age--that old mother lies dead!” - -“Oh, no, no, no!” sobbed Berry, sinking to her knees in despair. - -“It is true,” croaked the sibyl. “She lies dead, and her last word was -a curse upon your wicked head.” - -“Not wicked; oh, no--only weak and suffering,” moaned the girl. “Oh, -mother, now I have indeed nothing to live for, nothing to love.” - -“That is just as well, girl, for fate hangs heavy over your head,” -croaked the hag. - -“What fate could be more cruel than mine?” sobbed Berry wildly. - -The old Indian wagged her turbaned head, muttering low: - -“Death is the most cruel fate of all when it overtakes the young, the -beautiful, the loving. It is death that menaces you, girl--death in a -horrible form by drowning!” - -“Why should I tremble at death? I have nothing but toil and sorrow in -my life,” cried Berry wearily, with the tears running down her face. - -Again the woman peered into her hand, replying: - -“The doom is not a certainty, only a risk. It may be averted, and if -you escape it, there will come a wondrous change in your life. There -will be years of love and happiness and wealth before you.” - -“You are sure, quite sure?” the girl cried piteously. - -“It is written, and nothing can alter it,” cried the seeress, and Berry -thought of some words she had read in a book of Eastern verses: - - The moving finger writes; and having writ, - Moves on: nor all your piety, nor wit - Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, - Nor all your tears wash out a word of it. - -She knelt there sobbing piteously, as a beaten child, and that cracked -voice went on, and on: - -“I can save your life, girl, and I will do it, because you are so young -and so fair that I pity you. If you will meet me on the stroke of -twelve down in the Bonair grounds in the northern walk leading to the -private zoo, I will lend you for a week a charm against drowning--for -nothing, because I pity you so. When the week is ended the danger will -be past, and a long and happy life lies before you. Is it worth the -trouble? Will you come?” - -“I--I--yes, I will come!” faltered Berry wildly; then she fled from the -hag’s presence, followed by a low, exultant laugh, and in the hall she -fainted with the horror of all she had heard, believing that the woman -must indeed be gifted with supernatural powers. - -Now that she was alone, it all rushed wildly over her, and she knew -that she must go to receive the mysterious charm that could avert her -impending doom of death. - -“I can go and be back again before the kind housekeeper returns,” she -thought, slipping out of the room and stealing like a shadow along the -dim corridors till she reached a door that led out upon the beautiful -grounds into the calm, sweet night. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. COTTAGE AND CASTLE. - - -The beautiful California night, sweet and balmy, although it was -March--how like a dream of beauty lay the grounds about Bonair, with -their thick shrubberies and fragrant flowers! - -Yet Berry, unused to nocturnal wanderings alone, would have been -frightened only for the wild excitement that dominated every other -emotion. - -The full moon rode queenly in the cloudless sky, and shone like -silver on the lovely scene--on tall groups of statuary, gleaming -whitely against clumps of tropical shrubbery, on arbors twined with -roses, on tinkling fountains, on tall, white clumps of lilies and -beds of hyacinths, scenting the air with sweetness. All that wealth -and taste could devise in this land so favored by nature, was here in -lavish measure adorning the many acres of ground that surrounded the -picturesque pile of magnificent buildings called Bonair. - -And simple Berenice Vining, to whom all this was so new and amazing, -caught her breath with a gasp, remembering that Charley Bonair was heir -to it all--the only son of the proud multimillionaire. - -She felt for the first time the vast difference between her and the -man who had made careless love to her for twenty-four hours--love that -was not great enough to bridge the gulf between the lowly cottage and -the lofty castle, so that she might walk across it to his arms. - -Her thoughts flew to the old home, to the humble cottage, with the -morning glories climbing all over it in blue and white and roseate -glory, and a yearning came to her for her little room again, with its -cheap white ruffled curtains at the window, and the simple adornings so -dear to a young girl’s heart. - -Her heart rose in her throat, and she had to pause and lean her head -against a tree, while she sobbed in hysterical distress: - -“Oh, mamma, mamma!” - -Remorse throbbed at her bosom’s core. She had done wrong to forsake the -dear old mother whose heart had been broken by her desertion. - -“Alas, why was I not there to pray for her forgiveness? She was all I -had to love me on earth! Those older brothers and sisters, they never -cared for Berry. They always scolded and berated me because I was -mamma’s pet; they said I was a spoiled child. None of them will ever -care to see me again!” - -She sobbed on brokenly, without noticing that the clock in the high -tower had solemnly tolled out the midnight hour, when she was to meet -the fortune teller and receive the charm that was to ward off her -impending cruel doom. - -She did not even notice, in her perturbation, the delicate odor of -a fine cigar blending with the scent of the flowers close by, and -she would have darted away in alarm had she dreamed that a young man -was sitting on a rustic seat in a clump of shrubbery just back of -her--so close indeed that she might have caught the sound of his quick -breathing only that it was drowned by the tinkle of the fountain that, -throwing its spray high in the air, fell back again like the low patter -of rain upon the broad leaves of the lily-bordered pool. - -But as for him, he had caught every word she uttered, and he knew every -tone of the sweet voice, too, though he could not see her face as she -clung there with her cheek against the rough bark of the tree. - -It was Charley Bonair, sick at heart and troubled, who had hidden -himself there in the solitude of the beautiful night to puzzle over the -problem of his destiny. - -He thought he had worked it all out before in the moonlight nights on -the yacht, before he had landed from it at San Francisco. But that was -when he had believed that Berenice Vining was surely dead, and that -nothing remained but his duty to Rosalind. - -Now it all rose again like a ghost that would not down--the struggle -between his heart and his duty, for they did not agree. - -His troth plight held him to Rosalind, his love belonged to Berry. - -But the pure little cottage maiden would not accept the heart without -the hand. - -Now that he knew she still lived, his heart was in a tumult between -love and pride and duty. - -He did not wish to make a mésalliance. His pride clung to Rosalind, the -heiress, and he felt he owed her all respect and duty. - -But his code of morals was so lax that if he could have possessed Berry -without a wedding ring, he would have been loyal to her, even while -wedding her rival, and found a measure of happiness in the double life. - -But so certain was he of the little maiden’s stainless purity, that he -knew it would be useless to reveal himself to her, although sobbing -there in touch of his hand. - -At the first sign of his presence he knew that she would fly from him -in alarm and consternation. - -He had come home determined to be good, and delight all his relatives -by asking Rosalind to name the wedding day. He had decided that since -Berry must surely be dead he could jog along quite comfortably with -the blond beauty. Since neither one professed to be greatly in love, -there would be plenty of ways for such rich people to keep out of each -other’s way. - -All at once now he went back to his old resolve. - -“I must marry Rosalind and be done with it. There would be no end of a -bother with my folks, and probably disinheritance, if I cut the whole -thing and married little Berry. Besides, Rose is a good girl, after -all, and it would be a shame to break her heart.” - -Just as he came to this eminently virtuous resolution, and was softly -rising to sneak away from the temptation of folding the sobbing Berry -to his heart, there came an unlooked-for incident. - -The sound of muffled footsteps suddenly paused by the tree, and a -hoarse voice muttered impatiently: - -“Why did you fail to keep the tryst, girl? It is long since the -midnight bell tolled, and I grew weary of waiting.” - -Berry gave such a convulsive start backward that the blossoming shrubs -behind her were shaken, and dropped a shower of sweet flower petals to -the ground. - -“I--I--oh, I was so wretched thinking of my dear mother dead and my -lost home, and the sorrows of my life, that I forgot everything else,” -faltered the poor girl, with a dazed air. “What was it, please, you -wanted of me?” - -Charley Bonair was not going to leave just now, oh, no! He would stay -and see what lark the girl was up to, anyway. Perhaps time had changed -her, and she was not the good little angel of the past! Somehow he felt -himself grow jealous at the thought, even while the quick thought came -she might now be more to him. - -Why did he feel all at once that he hated little Berry? Was it that she -had destroyed his faith? - - I deemed her the one thing undefiled - By the air we breathe, in a world of sin; - The truest, the tenderest, purest child, - A man ever trusted in. - -What was this reproach for a tryst she had failed to keep? He would -listen, he would learn her sin. - -He leaned forward on his tiptoes, and got a good peep through the -rose branches at Berry and her interlocutor. The latter looked like -an old Indian squaw, picturesque draped in an old red blanket, with a -feathered headdress over her seamy, swarthy face. - -“Ah, a woman!” the young fellow thought to himself in keen relief, that -made his heart throb tumultuously. - -He heard the coarse, guttural voice replying cajolingly: - -“Have you forgot so soon, girl, the charm I promised when I told your -fortune, that was to avert a threatening doom, and bring to you wealth -and happiness?” - -Berry gave a little cry of remembrance and pleading: - -“Oh, I remember it all now. Forgive me that I forgot. Oh, I was so sad, -so sorrowful, I could think of nothing but the tale you told me of the -death of my old mother. Oh, is it really, really true?” - -The agony of those upraised eyes was enough to pierce a heart of stone, -but the old crone answered malevolently: - -“It is true as that the moon and stars shine in the heavens to-night. -She thought that you had fled with a rich young man, who meant to ruin -you, and she cursed you for your sin and her disgrace.” - -“Oh, but I am innocent and pure as the day I was born! I pray Heaven -that in death she knows the truth!” moaned the poor girl wildly. - -“We have no time for all this rant! It is time for honest folks to -be in their beds!” rejoined the Indian impatiently. Charley Bonair -started, asking himself: - -“Now, where have I heard that voice before, and that old saw in the -same tone? It is strangely familiar, somehow, with a difference that -baffles one!” - -He heard Berry murmur again sobbingly: - -“Forgive me, I did not mean any harm. Have you brought the charm with -you?” - -Then indeed Charley Bonair could scarcely keep from betraying himself -by laughing outright. - -“I left it around the path there in my bundle. Come with me and you -shall have it.” - -“I thank you,” Berry answered, simply and sweetly, and moved away by -her side, a slim, white, girlish figure by the tall, grotesque figure -of the other. - -Bonair started to follow, then drew quickly back. - -“It is none of my business to go spying on the dear, silly little -girl,” he decided. “She must be in love with some other fellow now, -by her anxiety over the old fortune teller, who knows no more of her -future than the man in the moon. I’d better go back to the house and -announce myself, and done with it! Hello, I’ll finish my cigar and drop -around to my zoo, and see Zilla first. They wrote me she had two cubs -and was savage as a lioness!” - -He sauntered along in the moonlight when the cigar was lighted; but -suddenly his repose was shaken by a terrible sound--loud, piercing -shrieks coming from the direction of the zoo. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. STRANGE MYSTERIES. - - -“The shrieks are coming from the bear pit! What if some one had -fallen in there!” cried Bonair, turning suddenly cold as ice with -apprehension, and starting at a wild run in the direction of the sounds. - -As the housekeeper had told Berry, her young master had been fond of -animal pets from boyhood, and had quite a choice collection of his own -at the southern end of the park, where they were taken care of by a man -and his wife. - -In this miniature zoo there was an aviary, some prairie dogs, a monkey -house, and some larger animals, including bears of different species. -Zilla, the black bear, was his favorite. He had got her himself several -years ago while deer hunting in the mountains of West Virginia. A -handsome fawn, a black bear cub, and some smaller animals, were the -trophies he carried home, and he had duly christened the cub Zilla, -and petted her so much that she loved him with a doglike devotion. In -his last letter from his sister Marie, she had told him that Zilla was -now the proud parent of twins, and had become fierce as a lioness in -defense of her young. - -He had just started for the bear pit, idly wondering if Zilla would -know him again after his absence of almost a year, when those frenzied -shrieks of some one in deadly peril made him fly to the rescue in -breathless haste, his heart sinking with a terrible dread. - -Suppose it were little Berry herself that had unwittingly stumbled and -fallen into the bear pit? - -Oh, horrors! One blow of Zilla’s big paw would be sufficient to kill -the lovely brown-eyed maid. In the twinkling of an eye, she would be -dead! - -There was one chance in a hundred for her life. - -If he could get there before the fatal blow was given, if he could -spring down into the pit, and arrest Zilla’s furious onslaught by the -sound of his voice--the voice of the beloved master! - -But would she remember him still? Would she yield obedience to his -command in her new character of motherhood, filled with the instinct -of protection to her young? If she would not, then woe unto any poor -wretch who had fallen into her angry clutches! - -With these thoughts in his mind he flew toward the zoo, with a wild -prayer in his heart to be in time, just in time! - -Every moment was an eternity, and his feet seemed to drag beneath him. -He had never realized the value of a moment of time before. - -But now life itself seemed to hang upon his haste. - -Fortunately the distance was short, so that he covered it in a space -of time less than five minutes--five minutes that might have been -fatal, alas, for ere now the wild shrieks had died into silence more -terrifying still--portentous silence in which the victim might have -died. - -At last! At last! After an eternity of time it seemed to him--he -reached the scene of his suspicions. - -He was right, for from the pit came terrible sounds, while all the -varied denizens of the zoo, having been startled from sleep by the -screams of fear, were making hideous din in their several voices, the -uproar creating a sort of babel of the scene. - -Over all shone the full moon in a cloudless sky, making everything -almost as clear as day. - -Bonair flung himself face downward, peering into Zilla’s abode. - -Down there was something white that could dimly be seen on the ground, -while Zilla crouched over it, hitting pounding blows with her big paws. -The other three bears who shared the pit were not taking any part, -only walking about on their hind legs, expressing dismay and wonder by -dismal and prolonged growling. - -“Oh, Heaven, have pity!” Bonair cried wildly, and leaped into the pit. - -He fell flat on his face, and Zilla’s attention was quickly attracted -so that the lifted paw, big, hairy, ponderous, fell nerveless as she -turned desperately on the new intruder upon her domain. - -Before he could struggle up to his feet, breathless from his race and -the shock of his fall, the black bear dealt him a blow hard enough -to knock the life out of him if he had not been nerved by a terrible -anxiety that almost made him proof against her force. He got up feebly -and clutched at her, muttering through a mouthful of blood: - -“Zilla! Zilla!” - -The name proved his salvation, for the huge black animal was opening -her arms to crush him to her in a grip that meant death, but she paused -in sudden indecision. - -“Zilla! Zilla!” the man cried again hoarsely, entreatingly, his heart -leaping to his throat in panting gasps. - -A stifled moan smote his ear, but it did not come from Zilla, but from -the still white something on the ground, and at the sound the bear -turned toward it again with a ferocious growl. - -But the great uplifted hairy paw did not fall, for with lightning -swiftness, Bonair sprang forward, his fist shot out with terrible -force and struck the animal just between the eyes, so that she lurched -backward. - -“Zilla, you devil, if you have hurt her, I will kill you!” he shouted, -as he flung himself between them. - -Madam Bruin, who had seen stars for a moment as his fist struck her -face, now regained her feet, standing erect and menacing, but without -making direct attack. She seemed dazed, stupefied, and a sort of shiver -shook her huge black body. - -As the moon shone down on the strange scene, she got her first look at -the intruder, and she began to tremble more and more with the rush of -instinctive memory. Bonair saw already that the battle was won. - -“Oh, Zilla, you know me at last,” he cried, in blended relief and -exultation, and added: - -“Down, down, wretched beast, at my feet!” - -Oh, wondrous change. - -It did not seem possible that the maddened, murderous, plunging beast -of a moment ago could be transformed like this into a tender, loving -animal that groveled on the ground and licked the master’s hand with a -quivering red tongue like a dog’s. But the transformation was wrought. - -There she lay prostrate at Bonair’s command, conquered, humble, loving, -her huge black body quivering all over, her whole attitude one of -complete submission. - -“Lie still, now,” her master commanded, roughly stroking her head, -even while he turned in an agony of anxiety to that figure huddled on -the ground the other side of him. He stooped down to examine it, and -as he did so Zilla’s fury returned. She growled and half rose, but his -restraining hand thrust her fiercely back. - -“Must I slay you, beast?” he demanded, with a blow that forced her -to be quiescent, while he made a further examination of the white -something that after one moan had given no further sign of life. - -Alas, his fearful heart had told him right. - -It was she, Berenice Vining, the little maid who had stirred his heart -to love’s joy and pain as no other woman had ever done before! Little -Berry of the starry eyes and pure heart. - -Gowned in simple white and seemingly lifeless, she lay, and he turned -to find some implement to slay Zilla, in the rush of furious vengeance. - -But the bear had slunk from him to the corner where her darlings whined -in their soft nest, and he tripped and fell in his agitation--not in a -pool of blood, but upon a soft mass of wool--the thick red blanket he -had seen on the Indian fortune teller when she had come to drag Berry -away to this hideous doom. - -He comprehended that the woman had thrust Berry down to this awful -death, and that in the life-and-death struggle, she had dragged down -with her the scarlet blanket. - -But why, why, why, had the old hag thirsted for this beautiful, -innocent young life? was the question that struck him like a blow in -the face. - -He knelt down by her in anguish; he put his hand beneath her face and -turned it to the light. - -Fortunately there was no mark or bruise upon it to mar its lifeless -beauty, but the lids lay heavy and dark on the white cheek, and the -heart, when he laid his hand over it, had no pulsation. He had come too -late. Zilla’s blows had battered out the life from the beautiful body! - -Charley Bonair groaned in anguish. - -“Dead! Dead! Poor little darling; sweet, pure child! How could so -slight a form survive those thudding blows I heard as I dropped into -the pit? They shall die for this, the old hag who flung her down to -her fate, and the murderous Zilla, who finished her work! Now there is -nothing left but to take her out of this accursed hole back to my home, -my last dead love, my little Berry, whom fate placed beyond my reach. -Ah,” the tone changed to one of horror, as a bullet whizzed suddenly -down into the pit past his cheek and buried itself in his shoulder. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. A TIMELY RESCUE. - - -How closely joy and sorrow tread on each other’s heels, how nearly they -touch each other! - -Up at the splendid Bonair palace the music and dancing went on apace, -Lucile and Marie being all in ignorance of their brother’s proximity -and peril. - -His presence in the theater had been unobserved, and none dreamed of -his return. - -The splendid fête went on, and the music of the orchestra and the -sounds of flying feet drowned the shrieks of mortal peril that arose -from the bear pit. - -It seemed as if Charley Bonair and Berenice Vining, both victims of -some mysterious enemy, must perish for want of a helping hand in this -hour of terrible danger. - -It must have ended thus in speedy death, had not the tumult of the bear -pit been overheard at the small cottage near by, where the zoo keeper -and his wife made their home. - -The woman, a lighter sleeper than the man, had been half aroused by the -sound of Berenice’s piercing shrieks. - -She raised her head from the pillow and listened intently for a moment, -and cold chills of terror ran down her spine at the agony of those -fearful cries, as of one in mortal peril. - -“Oh, surely there’s murder being done somewhere very close,” she -groaned aloud, and now thoroughly aroused, proceeded to shake her -husband awake. - -“Wake up, wake up, Sam Cline; don’t lay there snoring like a pig, when -somebody’s getting killed, sure! Wake, wake, wake!” she exclaimed, and -to expedite the awakening, she sprinkled his face with cold water, -which soon had the desired effect. - -“What’s broke loose Mandy, hey?” he exclaimed, in bewilderment, and she -answered: - -“Sam, there’s been the most terrible screams coming up about the zoo, -and now I can hear everything there roused up and making the most -fearful din--enough to split your ears open. Listen, don’t you hear it -yourself?” - -“I’d be stone-deaf sure if I didn’t hear all that racket! Suthin’ -dreadful must ’a’ happened, sure! I’d better dress and go up and see!” -he answered, hurrying into his clothing. - -“I’ll go with you,” declared Mandy, throwing on a wrapper, and -thrusting her bare feet into slippers, without more ado, they rushed in -the direction of the zoo, getting near enough when the shot was fired -down into the bear pit to see a tall, white figure running away in -breathless haste. - -“Somebody’s trying to kill the bears, sure! I wonder what for, now!” -gasped Mandy, almost breathless with her speed. - -“Run! run! let’s catch her, the wretch!” panted Sam Cline, but the -white figure, having the advance of them, seemed to fly like the wind, -and quickly disappeared from sight. - -Meanwhile as they rushed on, amid the babel of varied animal sounds, -they came to the bear pit, and their further pursuit of the criminal -was arrested by hearing a human groan, mingled with the hoarse, -frightened growls of the brutes below. - -How it all ended, Sam Cline related in his own words somewhat later, -when he carried the news up to Bonair, calling Mrs. Fortescue out for -the purpose. - -“Land sakes, ma’am, a terrible thing has happened down to the bear -pit,” he began excitedly. “Mandy and me was woke up by awful screams -from down to the zoo, and then all the birds and beasts got scared, -and sech a racket was never heard before, I reckon!--leastwise in the -hour of midnight, when everything is s’posed to be still and asleep. -Well, wife and I rushed out as fast as we could to the scene, and next -thing, zip--bang! went off a pistol right in front of Zilla’s pit, and -we saw a woman all in white running away like mad! We gave chase, but -she had the start of us too far, and disappeared in the shrubbery jest -as we got to the pit, and heard a terrible groaning that made us stop -to investigate.” He paused for breath in his rapid narration, and the -handsome old woman shuddered with prescient dread. - -“Go on, go on!” - -Sam Cline cleared his throat, and continued: - -“We peered down into the bear pit--and, oh, what a sight was there, -ma’am! All the bears in an uproar with fright and excitement, and in -the midst of it all two people, a man and a woman, as we could see by -her white dress. Well, we called to the bears, and they quieted down, -knowing our voices so well, and then, I swear to gracious! I nearly -jumped out of my skin with surprise, for a voice called out to me that -I know as well as I know my own, and said, with a groan: - -“‘Sam Cline, for Heaven’s sake, open the door and let us out of this -den.’” - -“A voice you knew?” repeated Mrs. Fortescue questioningly, but the man -hurried on, in a voice broken by excitement: - -“You may be sure that Mandy and I obeyed him fast enough, ma’am, and -found out when we got in the pit that the man had been shot in the -shoulder, and that the woman with him was apparently dead.” - -“This is terrible!” shuddered Mrs. Fortescue. - -“I should say so, indeed, ma’am,” answered Sam Cline, continuing. “The -man told me he heard screams from the pit, and running to it, saw the -woman being beaten to death by Zilla. He jumped down to her rescue, -but just as he got the bear subdued, somebody fired down at him, and -the ball went through his shoulder. He sank down with the pain, and -grew weak with the blood spurting from the wound, just as we discovered -him. Well, to make my story short, I tore off my shirt and bandaged -his wound, Mandy fighting off the bears that went wild at smelling -the blood. Then I took the dead woman in my arms, and Mandy led the -half-swooning man, and so we got them to my cottage, and I telephoned -for a doctor as soon as I could, and next thing, I posted up here to -break the news to you and the young ladies about their brother.” - -“Their brother!” exclaimed the old lady wonderingly, and he answered -quickly: - -“Yes, ma’am, their own brother, Mr. Charley Bonair, shot through the -shoulder, and so upset by all he went through in the pit, that as soon -as we got him in my house he fell down by the couch, where I laid the -dead woman, and swooned with excitement, so I just left Mandy to -revive him while I telephoned the doctor to come, and posted off up -here.” - -Mrs. Fortescue, pale and trembling, cried faintly: - -“Are you sure you have not made a mistake, Sam Cline? My nephew is not -even in San Francisco!” - -“He landed from the yacht early yesterday evening, ma’am--he told me -so--but he had not spoken to his sisters yet. He was in the grounds, -coming home, I suppose, when he heard the shrieks from the pit, and ran -to the lady’s assistance,” explained Sam Cline quickly. - -“And the lady? Did you know her, Sam?” - -“Not her name, ma’am, but her face. She was that pretty little actress -that played in the theater here last night. I knew her again as soon as -I clapped eyes on her face, but I don’t know as I ever heard her name.” - -“This is wonderful, mysterious!” cried the lady. “Oh, what shall I do? -It seems too bad to break up the ball with this shocking news, but -there seems nothing else to do.” - -Sam Cline hesitated, then said humbly: - -“If I might make so bold as to advise you, ma’am, I’d say let the ball -go on, because it won’t last much longer, anyway, I guess, and see Mr. -Bonair yourself before you alarm his sisters.” - -“I believe you are right, Sam; I hate to stir up a panic in the -ballroom if I can avoid it. Wait outside for me till I get a wrap, and -I will go with you to the cottage and see Charley.” - -If she had cherished the least doubt of it being her nephew, she soon -had proof of it on reaching the keeper’s cottage, for Mrs. Cline had -succeeded in reviving the patient, and he lay pale and nervous on a -narrow cot in the same room where they had placed the seemingly dead -actress upon a neat white bed. - -“Charley, dear, this is terrible!” the lady cried, sinking down on her -knees and kissing his pallid brow, damp with the dew of pain. - -He took the kiss impatiently, crying fervently: - -“Aunt Florence, do not think about me! I’m all right, sure!--see about -that poor girl over there, please! Is she really dead, or only in a -very deep swoon? By Heaven, if Zilla has killed her, I’ll put the brute -to torture, I’ll burn her at the stake!” - -He ended with a groan of commingled fury and stifled pain, and just -then there came a loud rap upon the door. The physician had fortunately -arrived. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. BITTER RIVALRY. - - -He had his hands full certainly, with his two patients, for Charley -Bonair insisted that he should examine the young lady first to see -if there were the least hope of her recovery from the swoon or -unconsciousness that seemed to them all so terribly like death itself. - -When Madam Fortescue returned from the cottage two hours later, -the grand ball was ending--the “dear five hundred friends” tearing -themselves away. - -With commendable self-possession she received their adieus, and waited -till her weary nieces had got into their dressing gowns before she -called them together and imparted her important news. - -Lucile and Marie were sadly frightened, and tears flowed fast from -their beautiful eyes. - -“Poor, dear brother, we must go to him at once,” they cried, but Madam -Fortescue forbade it. - -“No, the physician wished him to rest quietly to-night in the care of -Sam Cline, but you both will be allowed to see him to-morrow. The wound -is not necessarily dangerous, but it is better for him to remain a day -or two at the cottage before he comes home.” - -“And the pretty little actress--Miss Vane. Do you say that she -revived?” cried Marie. - -“She has shown signs of life, that is all. The poor young girl’s body -is a mass of bruises. He did not find any broken bones, however, and -says she owes her escape from that to the thick red blanket of the -murderous old squaw that fell down on her, and formed with its folds a -cushion against the fury of Zilla’s blows.” - -The two young girls shuddered with horror over the story. They recalled -the bright beauty of the sparkling young actress with keen admiration, -and realized the difference now with heartfelt sorrow. - -“She must have a good nurse and every possible attention to restore her -life. We will charge ourselves with all the expenses, poor girl,” they -exclaimed. - -And then they fell to wondering about the criminal. Who was she--how -had she happened to be at Bonair? - -The young girls declared solemnly that they had not employed any -fortune teller, had not known of her presence in the house. It was a -decided mystery. - -“Perhaps the housekeeper may know something about it,” suggested the -aunt. - -Mrs. Hopson was summoned and cleared up the little mystery. - -She told how Miss Montague had called her out while the banquet was -in progress, saying that an old Indian fortune teller had called and -offered her services to aid in the evening’s entertainment. - -Miss Montague was so pleased with the idea that she had engaged the old -woman at her own expense to remain two hours and amuse the theatrical -company after the banquet. She had asked Mrs. Hopson to prepare the -little alcove for the seeress, and to apprise the members of the -company of the treat in store for them. Mrs. Hopson had consented to -the plan, and Rosalind had left her, after cautioning the housekeeper -to say nothing to her mistresses of the little plot, saying she wished -to defray all the cost herself. - -Mrs. Hopson went on and told of the fright the young actress had -received on hearing the story of her future from the old seeress, and -of how she had taken her to her own apartments to spend the night, but -returned to find her missing. - -“It irked me to find her gone, but I never thought of danger to the -sweet, pretty young girl,” she declared, adding: - -“Now it seems to me that there was some deep-laid plot to injure the -young actress. That old Indian woman was very likely a disguised enemy -that sought her life. Failing to frighten the girl to death with her -terrible prophecies, she got her out of the house some way and pushed -her into the pit to meet her death from the angry black bear. When -she saw that rescue was likely, she made one last desperate attempt -at murder by shooting down among the bears. Oh, the vile wretch, she -should be torn limb from limb! No punishment is too great for such a -fiend!” - -“Yet, I doubt if she will ever be apprehended. She has had ample time -to escape and cover up all traces of her identity,” sighed Madam -Fortescue, wishing from her heart that the wretch might be brought to -justice. - -“Oh, how grieved, how dismayed Rosalind will be to hear all this,” -cried Lucile, with tears. “Only think, when she was generously planning -such a pleasure for those people out of her own purse, she was vilely -imposed on by a murderous wretch who nearly destroyed two lives. Why, -if dear Charley should die, dear Rosalind would feel like a murderess, -although she did not even know that he was in the city.” - -“But where was Rosalind all the evening? It seems to me now that I -do not remember seeing her at all in the ballroom,” exclaimed Madam -Fortescue. - -“Why, poor Rosie had a little chapter of accidents that spoiled her -whole evening,” answered Marie. “In the first place, she became -suddenly ill, soon after the dancing began, and had to retire to her -room to lie down a while. It was one of those terrible headaches, you -know, that will only get better in a dark, quiet place, so she said -we must leave her alone, as she should lock her door and must not be -disturbed. Well, something after midnight she returned to the ballroom, -and was better, but looking so pale and ill yet that I was surprised -to see her dancing again. But pretty soon she came to me all angry and -nervous, and I could not blame her at all. Some one had torn a great -rent in her white lace gown, and she had to retire, and she said she -would not appear again, because she was too tired to change her gown. -Poor thing, I hope she will sleep off her sickness by to-morrow, so -that she can go with us to see Charley.” - -“It will give her a terrible turn to hear of all the mischief that old -fortune teller did, but it cannot be helped now,” remarked Mrs. Hopson. - -Then they all separated for the night, or rather morning, since it -lacked but a few short hours to daylight. - -As Miss Montague was the latest of all arising, and took her coffee in -her own room, it was very late afternoon before the two sisters came in -and told her their startling news. - -She was quite as much dismayed as they expected, and when she heard -that it was her betrothed, Charley Bonair himself, who had been wounded -in the pit, Rosalind fainted away in dead earnest. When she revived she -was almost hysterical. - -“Do not tell me he is dead, my love, my Charley, or my heart will -break!” she moaned in anguish. - -When they told her he would get well, that they had been down to the -cottage already to see him, and that he was resting easily, she smiled -again. - -“Oh, I am so glad, so happy, that he is spared to us! But, dear girls, -will you not bring him home now, at once? I wish to see him so much! -Did he ask for me? Did he send me any message?” - -The sisters were so sorry for her that they hated to tell her the -truth, that Charley had not even called her name. - -But after confessing it they hastened to make excuses for their -brother, saying he was so ill and feverish it was no wonder he had -temporarily forgotten everything but his own sufferings. - -Rosalind accepted their explanation with outward complacence, but the -hot fires of jealousy seethed madly in her heart. - -To herself she said bitterly: - -“He did not ask for me, because he does not care, he thinks only of -her, the little witch who stole his fickle heart from me! How strange, -how very strange, that he should have been on the spot to save her -life! He must have known she would be here, and followed to bask in the -light of her eyes. Oh, how I hate her! Why does she not die, why should -she live to balk me of my happiness, for the whole world is too narrow -for my rival and me!” - -In her angry thoughts she almost forgot the presence of the sisters, -and they were startled by the lowering frown upon her face, realizing -that she was bitterly disappointed at getting no message from Charley. - -They hastened to tell her that the physician would not permit him to -leave his bed yet, but that they would accompany her at any time to see -her lover, assuring her that he would be charmed with the visit. - -Rosalind believed quite otherwise, but she kept back the bitter words -between her lips, resolving to go, indeed, to visit him, and to hurry -up their marriage if she could, before the pretty actress got well. - -Of the poor girl hovering between life and death, and all unconscious -of her surroundings, she said not a word in pity, and when she was -asked about the Indian seeress who had wrought such woe, she declared -that she had never seen her before that night, and knew nothing of her -whereabouts. - -“Oh, I hope none of you will blame me for what she did!” Rosalind cried -artlessly. “I am not to blame, for I only thought to give pleasure. The -woman came to me as I leaned out of a window, and proffered her wish, -and I immediately granted it. How was I to know that at heart she was a -fiend?” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. A FRIEND IN NEED. - - -Rosalind’s sorrow, so prettily acted, had its due effect. Her friends -quickly acquitted her of all blame, and hastened to soothe her ruffled -feelings by praising the good intentions that had prompted her terrible -mistake. - -The Bonairs hated anything like notoriety, and they tried very hard to -keep the sensational events of that night out of the newspapers. - -But their efforts failed of success, and the reporters reaped a rich -harvest. - -When the manager of Berry’s company came the next day to inquire -for his missing star, he was astounded to learn through the voluble -housekeeper of the tragedy of the previous night. - -He went quite white, and trembled with the shock, and as he was rather -young and very handsome, Mrs. Hopson surmised that he must be the young -girl’s lover, and pitied him very much. - -He cried out hoarsely: - -“Barely alive, you say, with but one chance in a hundred for her life? -Oh, how terrible! I can scarcely credit it, unless I see her with my -own eyes!” - -He went from the mansion to the cottage, and Mrs. Cline permitted him -to see the poor, unconscious girl upon the bed, breathing so faintly -that it seemed as if every pulsation must be her last. - -“Dying, poor girl, dying! And I loved her, oh, I loved her better than -my life!” the man cried, sinking on his knees by the bed, and pressing -his lips to the cold little hand that lay outside the cover. - -“Then you were going to marry the poor young lady?” asked Mrs. Cline. - -“No, for she had rejected my suit, telling me she had loved once and -her faith had been destroyed forever. She was very unhappy, I know, -over her broken lovedream, but I still hoped on, believing that in -time she might forget her false lover and turn to me. In all our -leading parts I was cast as her lover, and I threw my whole soul into -everything, hoping to win her at last. Alas! all is over, and her sweet -life has fallen beneath the machinations of a cowardly enemy,” the man -moaned, staggering up to his feet, with a look of despair that touched -the woman’s heart. - -“I am so sorry for you, sir,” she murmured, putting the corner of her -white apron to her eyes, that were wet with tears. - -He thanked her with a look, and added: - -“While she lives, Mrs. Cline, see that she receives the best of -attention, and look to me to settle all expenses to--the last!” his -voice breaking over the word. - -“Oh, sir, the Bonairs have already pledged themselves to pay -everything. A trained nurse is coming within the hour, and the -physician will be in frequently,” she replied. - -“May I see Mr. Bonair? Will you take my card to him?” asked the manager. - -She assented, and he was kept waiting some time, while she related to -Charley Bonair every word he had uttered, faithfully describing the -emotion he had displayed. - -Charley Bonair was lying on his couch very pale and restless, and he -grew almost ghastly as the tale ran on. - -“That will do, you may bring him in,” he said, at last. - -The next moment: - -“Ah, Mr. Bonair, will you pardon this intrusion?” - -“You are welcome, Mr. Weston. Pray be seated,” Charley answered -quietly, gazing hard at his handsome rival. - -Truly he was handsome and manly, with that dark, flashing eye that -so easily wins its way to a woman’s heart. Charley Bonair wondered -jealously that Berry had been able to withstand its fascination. - -“Dear little one, surely she loved me well,” he thought, with a twinge -of the bitterest remorse and pain. - -The manager had somewhat recovered his self-possession that had wavered -in the presence of his dying love. He did not give way as before Mrs. -Cline, but conversed easily and with a sorrowful dignity that impressed -the hearer, against his wishes, with profound respect. - -“A dangerous rival, and perhaps more worthy of her than I am,” Bonair -said to himself, with a sweeping self-contempt new and withering. - -If she lived, poor little Berry, who could tell but that such devotion -might win her at last?--but he groaned aloud at the thought. - -“Your pardon. A twinge of pain in that confounded shoulder,” he -explained. - -“Permit me to praise your acting last night,” he added. “It was superb, -and, in fact, your company is an admirable one.” - -“I thank you, but we are almost ruined now by this terrible happening. -No woman in my company is capable of taking the leading part at short -notice. I shall arrange to pay the company a week’s salary in advance, -and disband for an indefinite time.” - -“You must permit me to assist in the financial part; I feel it my duty, -and will make it my pleasure. I cannot forget that the disaster came -to you through your appearance at my home last night,” the wounded man -said cordially. - -But the manager declined the offer with a proud, though gentle, -dignity, winning more and more Bonair’s respect. - -“I thank you, sir, but I must decline your offer, since I am amply able -to meet these expenses,” he said, adding after a moment’s hesitation: - -“Whatever you may choose to spend in tracing Miss Vane’s cowardly -murderer will be well spent.” - -“No expense will be spared for that,” Bonair promised, growing so -pale again that the visitor felt he was staying too long, and took a -courteous and sympathetic leave. - -It was a nine days’ wonder in the papers, and the reporters “worked -the story for all it was worth.” Meanwhile the Weston Company became -so interesting to the general public that the next cleverest actress -studied Berry’s part, and the new play, “A Wayside Flower,” ran -successfully for weeks upon the boards of a popular theater. - -All this time Berry was lingering between life and death from the -terrible pounding Zilla had given her in the bear pit, but at last the -wavering balance began to incline toward life, gladdening many anxious -hearts, but filling one, alas, with malignant hate. - -For Rosalind’s jealous hatred waxed hotter every day, and could she -have found a chance to be alone in that sick room for five minutes, it -is hard to say what might have happened. - -But a young princess could not have been guarded with more loving care -than the poor little actress, and it was all through Charley Bonair -that this was so. - -He employed two competent nurses for the sick room, and one or the -other was ordered to remain always in the girl’s apartment. - -“We must remember always that she has a cruel and unscrupulous enemy -thirsting for her young life,” he said. “That enemy may be hovering -about, watching for an opportunity to complete her murderous work. She -must be foiled in her terrible designs,” he said firmly, and Rosalind, -who heard the words, turned aside to hide a cruel sneer that parted her -crimson lips. - -She was disappointed in all her crafty little schemes for entrapping -him into marriage before Berry recovered. It was plainer to her than -ever that she had lost every hold she had upon him, and she dreaded -every day that he would ask for a release from his engagement. - -Rosalind said to herself that when that happened she was afraid she -would go mad of her anger and despair. - -A jilted bride! How could she bear the stigma, how turn aside the jeers -of her little carping world? - -“I cannot, I will not release him if he dares plead to me. I will hold -him to his promise, and he dare not back down!” she vowed bitterly. - -Charley Bonair’s convalescence was so slow that every one became -uneasy, not dreaming that he played a deceitful part in order to remain -as long as he could beneath the same roof with Berry. Besides, as he -said to himself, he could hold Rosalind off better that way. Though she -came every day with his sisters to visit him, he frequently pretended -to be too ill or nervous to receive them till at last his doctor -rallied him soundly. - -“What game is it you are playing, Bonair? You were well enough two -weeks ago.” - -Before Bonair left at last, the nurses permitted him to sit a half hour -in Berry’s room watching her as she slept, with the dark silken lashes -prone upon her snowy cheek, and the breath just stirring the white -folds of her breast. - -The sight went to his heart, stirring it with profound emotion, so that -he said to himself: - -“How can I dream of ever wedding any but this beautiful creature, my -soul’s true mate? She must be mine alone; I must break with Rosalind!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. THE OLD LOVE. - - -“I must break with Rosalind! I can wed no other than sweet little -Berry, my soul’s true mate!” Bonair cried passionately, again to his -own heart, when he was back in his palatial home, leaving Berry at the -lowly cottage of the zoo keeper. - -All the puerile questions of wealth and position that had held them -apart became dross in his eyes, swept away in the torrent of a love -that would no longer brook opposition to its restless force. - -Perhaps jealousy of Berry’s handsome lover, young Weston, added fuel to -the fire of his love, but it began to burn with a consuming flame that -destroyed everything in its path. A gifted poet has fitly portrayed the -state of his mind: - - When the court of the mind is ruled by reason, - I know it is wiser for us to part; - But love is a spy who is plotting treason, - In league with that warm, red rebel, the heart. - They whisper to me that the king is cruel, - That his reign is wicked, his law a sin, - And every word they utter is fuel - To the flame that smolders within. - -His dread of Rosalind’s grief and anger seemed to vanish before the new -force of his passion for Berry, and he said to himself grimly that he -must have it out with Rosalind, and be done with it. It was best to “be -off with the old love” before he was “on with the new.” - -The opportunity came soon. - -His sister Marie privately lectured him on his indifference to his -betrothed. - -“How can you be so cruel to poor Rose? You treat her like a stranger.” - -“Has she complained of me?” he asked evasively. - -“How can she help it? The dear girl is miserable at heart, although she -bears up bravely. You know every one is caviling because the wedding -day is not set. Why don’t you settle it once for all, Charley, dear?” - -Her coaxing arms were round his neck, her bright eyes beaming into his, -and he sighed: - -“Girls are always dead set on weddings! I don’t see why! I think them -great bores myself!” - -“Then why don’t you get yours over and be done with it?” persisted the -girl. - -“Oh, I am not in any hurry to lose my bachelor freedom, sis; I fancy -Rose would henpeck me dreadfully,” yawning. - -“She would not, I’m sure--that is if you behave yourself, sir! Of -course you would have to give up some of your bad habits if you were -a married man--flirting, for instance--and--and--drinking! You are a -little too fond of the winecup, aren’t you, now?” - -“Yes--if you say so,” he replied nonchalantly, taking his lecture -coolly, and adding: “I wonder if Rose is going to write out a list of -musts and must nots for me to sign on the wedding day; do you know?” - -“Oh, nonsense! Go and ask her if you want to know! She’s in the library -now, half crying because a girl asked her if her wedding would be soon, -otherwise she wanted her to make one of a house party at her home this -fall. Don’t you see how embarrassing the uncertainty is, Charley?” - -“Yes, I see. We must have an understanding about it,” he replied, with -a sudden gravity that emboldened her to add: - -“Only yesterday Rosalind refused a proposal that was exceptional, in -every way, and when she told me of it she half sighed: ‘He’s very nice, -and if I had not been engaged to Charley, I might have said yes.’” - -“It isn’t too late to call him back. I’ll tell her she may do so!” he -exclaimed eagerly. - -Marie pinched his ear and laughed: - -“Getting jealous, are you, old boy? Well, you see, there are others who -admire Rose beside yourself.” - -“Yes, I see,” he replied, getting up carelessly, and moving to the door. - -“You’re going to Rosalind?” she asked hopefully. - -“Yes, I will not delay speaking to her any longer,” he replied, going -out as he spoke, and getting a glass of wine to steady himself, for he -owned to himself he was a little bit nervous, thinking uneasily. - -“She’ll make no end of a scene, of course--maybe call me a cur and all -that. The sooner it’s over, the better.” - -Fortified with several glasses of wine, he wended his way to the -library. - -Rosalind was there, sure enough, exquisitely gowned in some soft green -fabric, with loads of lace trimming, that was very becoming to her -blond type and she reclined rather pensively in a large leather chair. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. FATE WILLED OTHERWISE. - - -“Ah, Charley, it is you. I am so glad, for you were just now in my -thoughts!” cried Rosalind, beaming up at him with a tender smile. - -Charley throwing himself down carelessly into the opposite chair, -returned lightly: - -“Very complimentary, I am sure, for I fancied you were thinking of the -other fellow.” - -She wrinkled her brows at him. - -“The other fellow?” - -“Yes, you know, Rosalind--the one who was so nice you would have -accepted his proposal if you hadn’t been engaged to me.” - -“So Marie told you that nonsense, Charley! Ha! ha! Of course it was -only a jest!” laughed Rosalind, looking up at him with arch blue eyes, -full of tenderness. - -Charley Bonair did not return the fond glance, he looked at her with -serious gravity, unmoved by all her coquettish beauty and rich attire. -He answered frankly: - -“I am sorry to hear that it was a jest. I hoped it was truth.” - -“Charley!” - -“Yes, I hoped it was true,” he reiterated gravely, “because I came in -here to tell you it was not too late to call him back.” - -“Oh, Charley!” reproachfully. - -“Honor bright,” he answered, still without smiling, and adding -nervously, “oh, Rosalind, can’t you see that he would be a better match -for you than I, because he loves you, while I--I, in spite of myself, -have grown cold, careless, indifferent to you!” - -“Cruel! Cruel!” sobbed the girl, behind her jeweled fingers. - -“Yes, I know it, dear, but I cannot help it. I tried to be true to you, -but fate willed otherwise, and I’ve struggled too long! I give it up -for useless now. Despise me if you will, I deserve it, I know, and I -don’t blame you. But, Rosalind, if you held me to my promise I couldn’t -make you happy. I should hate you, instead of loving you. There, the -bitter truth is out! Will you set me free?” - -“It might not be as easy for me as for you, Charley. I am not so -fickle-minded, perhaps, but I suppose I have a right to ask you one -question!” - -“Oh, yes, go on,” he said. - -“It is only this, Charley, dear: Has your heart only wandered from me, -or is there--some one else?” - -His handsome face flushed a little under her sorrowful glances, but he -answered bravely: - -“Forgive me for hurting you, Rosalind, but I will not deceive. Yes, you -have guessed the truth. There is some one else!” - -Rosalind sighed heavily: - -“It is worse than I thought. Indifference might be cured if I had no -rival, but this is hopeless. Oh, Charley, who is she, the girl who has -won your love from me? Her name?” - -“Rosalind, I would rather not tell you yet.” - -“That is unfair to me, Charley, very unfair!” bitterly. “Surely I have -a deep interest in my successful rival. Does she love you?” - -“I hope so.” - -“Then you have not asked her yet?” - -“I waited for my release from you.” - -“Oh, then, you will ask her now, at once! Is she near at hand, Charley, -or perhaps I should say, Mr. Bonair, now?” - -“Call me Charley always if you will, and let us be true friends, my -dear girl, instead of lovers,” he pleaded, with outstretched hands. - -Rosalind placed her cold little hand eagerly in his, and answered: - -“This is very sudden, and very hard on me, Charley, because I have -loved you dearly for a year, and looked forward with joy to a life -spent by your side. Before I promise to release you, grant me one -favor.” - -“Name it, Rosalind.” - -“You have not asked your new love yet, and you are not sure she will -love you in return?” - -“I am reasonably sure,” he said, with the confidence of a sanguine mind. - -“How long will it be before you can have your answer?” - -“A week--perhaps two,” he replied, suddenly remembering that Berry was -yet precariously ill. - -“Then this is what I ask you, Charley, dear--yes, still dear, despite -the wound in my heart. Keep our secret until you have your new love’s -acceptance of your suit. Let us remain to the world lovers still, until -you are plighted to another. Then I will release you from your vow.” - -“It shall be as you say,” he answered, so grateful for her promise of -release, that he did not think it mattered going on with the farce of -an engagement a while longer. - -“If it will make it any less painful for you, Rose, you can say you -jilted me, you know. I shouldn’t mind at all!” - -“Thank you--I will think it over,” she answered dejectedly, and the -last glimpse he had of her was just as she hid her face in her hands -again and sat silent, like a statue of despair. - -He went immediately down to the keeper’s cottage, as he did every day, -for news of Berry, and his heart leaped with joy when Mrs. Cline told -him there was a marked change for the better, and the invalid had begun -to take notice and to try to talk a little. - -“When the doctor came this morning he was so pleased with the -improvement, he said she was quite sure to get well now,” she said. - -“Thank Heaven!” he cried fervently, and after a momentary hesitation, -he added earnestly: - -“Mrs. Cline, do me one favor, and I will never forget it. If that -fellow, Weston, comes to see her again, do not admit him to see the -patient. Tell him she is improving, but can see no one.” - -“I’ll do as you say, sir, but Lor’ bless you, some of them actor folks -comes here every day to ask about her.” - -“But remember, I wish to be the first one admitted to her presence when -she is able to see any one,” he replied. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. THE HAPPY MEETING. - - -But April had succeeded March before Berry was fairly convalescent. - -A long and weary month she had lain upon that bed of pain before life -struggled back for certain into her weary, battered frame, and the -light of memory shone again in her big, pathetic brown eyes. - -Then she began to get well very fast, and to betray a great curiosity -over everything, asking questions that the doctor said might be freely -answered. - -So before she was permitted to see any one but her nurses, she knew -all there was to tell--that Charley Bonair, the millionaire senator’s -only son, had rescued her from Bruin’s clutches at the peril of his own -life, and that the mysterious assailant had put a ball in his shoulder -as he bent over her in the pit. - -“Do not tell me he was killed,” sobbed Berry. - -Mrs. Cline laughed reassuringly. - -“Not a bit of it, my dear young lady, although Heaven only knows what -might have happened only for Sam and me coming up just then and scaring -off the vile woman that sought your death, for she might have shot -again and again. But we chased her away, and opened the door of the -pit, and found the bears in an awful uproar, and there’s no telling -what might have happened next, only that we got you both out as quick -as possible and brought you to our house. Laws, Mr. Bonair only had a -bullet in his shoulder, and the doctor soon got it out, but he stayed -here two weeks, afraid to be moved home, and even now he comes down -every day to ask after you, always bringing fresh flowers to decorate -your room. A mighty good heart has Mr. Charley.” - -Berry lay gazing at the fragrant flowers on the table, a dreamy light -in her great brown eyes, a faint flush staining her pallid cheeks. - -She was thinking how strange and sad it was that their paths had -crossed again so tragically--hers and handsome, wicked Charley Bonair’s. - -She called him wicked, because she remembered vividly the night of -their moonlight ride, when he had asked her for her heart without her -hand--oh, the shame of it--promising she should be his sweetheart even -if he married Rosalind! Back over Berry’s mind, in a flood tide of -grief, rushed the memory of his burning kiss, and her wild words when -she had flung his roses back into his face, wounding him with their -thorns, then leaped in a passion of wounded love and pride out of the -trap into the road, where, striking her head on a rock, she had become -unconscious for hours. - -When she had yielded to the persuasions of the theatrical people to -become one of themselves, she had done it with the resolve to place -the whole width of the world, if possible, between herself and Charley -Bonair, praying never to see his face again. - -Now the work of almost a year was undone by the cruelest chance in the -world. - -Alas, what strange fate had sent her unconsciously to his home, beneath -his very roof, when the cruel wound had seared over, and she was -learning to forget! - -It was the very irony of fate that she should owe her life to him, to -Charley Bonair, the proud, handsome profligate! - -“Oh,” she cried to herself, in bitterness of soul, “I had rather have -perished than owed my life to him!” And suddenly she burst into the -most piteous sobbing Mrs. Cline had ever heard. It was just as though -her poor heart were broken, thought the sympathetic soul. - -“Ah, dear, dear, what a fool I was, blabbing out everything at once! -Now you will get worse for the excitement, and I shall be to blame!” -she cried out piteously. - -“No, no, I--I--will be calm!” cried Berry, subduing her sobs by a -violent effort, as she put out her hand, so frail and white. - -“I am better now; I will not give way again. Tell me more.” - -“Not to-day, miss--not till I see that my gabbling has no ill effect on -you,” Mrs. Cline replied uneasily. But just then there was a light tap -on the door that opened into the hall, and when she went to it, there -was Bonair, asking anxiously: - -“How is our little patient to-day, Mrs. Cline?” - -How the musical voice thrilled Berry’s heart, stirring it to subtle -rapture! Alas, she did not hate him, after all; she was turning faint -and dizzy just with the happiness of hearing him speak again! His -faintest whisper made her heart rejoice! - -The voice ceased, and she heard Mrs. Cline saying: - -“She is getting better fast, sir, but I fear I have talked to her too -much to-day, telling her about the night you rescued her, and just now -she had a hard fit of crying from excitement.” - -“Oh, hush!” cried out Berry imploringly, but the sound of her voice -went to his heart, made him reckless; he pushed past Mrs. Cline into -the room, crying: - -“Oh, let me have just one peep at her, please!” - -Mrs. Cline, dazed and undecided, shut the door and stood with her back -against it, staring as Charley Bonair dropped down on his knees, fixing -adoring eyes on the sick girl’s pallid, frightened face. - -“Don’t be angry, little love! My own sweetheart, found once more, and -never to be lost again! For I am free now, darling, and I will marry -you to-morrow if you will have me for your husband!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. THEIR PLIGHTED VOWS. - - -It was enough to blow out the faint spark of Berry’s life, the sudden -shock of seeing her lover, and hearing those startling words from his -lips, but, happily, “joy never kills.” - -Now at the sight of his handsome face that she had never expected -to see again in life, above all at the sound of his musical voice, -uttering words she had not dared to fancy on his lips, such a wave of -rapturous emotion thrilled Berry from head to foot, that she could -not utter a sound. Her only response to her lover’s ardent words was -a sudden rain of blissful tears that relieved the tension of her -surcharged heart. - -With his own soft handkerchief Charley Bonair wiped away those shining -drops, murmuring fond words, quite heedless of the gaping Mrs. Cline, -who looked and listened, thinking to herself: - -“Well, I never! Has the man gone clean daft, promising to marry this -poor little actress, when the folks up at the mansion say that he’s -engaged to that grand, rich New York heiress, Miss Montague!” - -As she had known him from his boyhood, and did not stand at all in awe -of him, she cried, in righteous indignation: - -“For shame, Mr. Charley, trying to flirt with that poor little sick -girl, that don’t know you as well as I do, or she would not listen to -your foolishness! Get out of here, now, do, before you scare my patient -into fits!” - -At this the happy young fellow, remembering her presence for the -first time, got up deliberately from his knees, where he was kneeling -by Berry, and marching to Mrs. Cline, took her, playfully, by the -shoulders, and put her outside the door, saying gayly: - -“You don’t understand a word of this, of course, but I will explain it -all to your satisfaction if you will stay out here till I get an answer -to my proposal, will you?” pleadingly. - -“I--I--yes, I suppose I must, if you order me to, Mr. Charley, but I -don’t know what the doctor, and the nurse, and Miss Montague, too, will -say to all this goings on, sir, especially if the poor young girl gets -a relapse from excitement,” she complained. - -“She will not get a relapse. Happiness never killed anybody!” cried the -young man, beaming happily upon her, as he shut her outside, and went -back to the blushing, trembling little girl. - -“My darling, please forgive me for taking you by storm this way, but -I never had any patience in my life, and how could I have now, when I -have the sweetest story in the world to tell you? Listen, Berry, my -dearest: I have loved you and you alone, since the first moment I saw -your lovely face shining down on me from the cottage window framed in -morning-glory vines. From that moment your face has been the star of -my life’s horizon, and your sweet love song has haunted many a dream. -But I was betrothed to another, a proud, rich girl, my equal in birth -and position, so at first I did not think of breaking my vow. Then you -faded from my life, and I feared you were dead until I saw you on the -boards of the theater that night, in my own home, a very queen of love -and beauty. I knew you again in a moment. My little Berry could not -hide from me under the pseudonym of Vera Vane.” - -Berry’s soft cheeks dimpled into a smile at that, and taking her small -hand, he held it tightly clasped in a warm, sweet pressure, while he -continued: - -“That very night I had come home from a long yachting trip, trying to -forget you, and had made up my mind to settle down and make everybody -but myself happy by marrying Rosalind. But my presence was as yet -unknown to my people, and when I saw you again, Berry, and knew that -you lived, more sweet and lovely than ever, I could not bear the -thought of my betrothed. I stole away when the play was over and went -out into the grounds to brood over my trouble. While I smoked a cigar, -hidden on a seat in some shrubberies, you came by and stopped and -talked to yourself until the old fortune teller came to upbraid you for -not keeping your engagement promptly. Do you remember it, Berry?” - -“Ah, yes, yes--and you were there close by?” she breathed, in wonder. - -“Yes, almost close enough to touch you: I was tempted, indeed, to rush -to you and clasp you to my heart, but I had not forgotten the night I -kissed you when you flung my roses in my face and scratched me with the -sharp thorns; I did not care to risk such vixenish resentment again, -although that kiss, believe me, was worth all I suffered for it.” - -She listened, eagerly, to every word, flushing and paling, delicately -as a rose, her large, dilated brown eyes drinking in every tender word. -Charley Bonair thought, in spite of her thinness, that she was as -lovely as a dream. Suffering had only refined her beauty. - -She had scarcely a word to say; she only listened, drinking in his -voice like heavenly music, and he, gazing at her and stroking her -little hand, went on with his explanations, saying: - -“I heard all you and the old woman were saying, and was vastly amazed -at your credulity in believing her silly yarns. Well, soon after you -left, I started down to see Zilla, and heard your cries of terror, so -by hurrying my pace I was able to get there in time to save you from -being quite killed by the angry brute. I suppose Mrs. Cline has told -you everything that happened afterward, as far as she knew.” - -She murmured yes, and he added joyously: - -“What she did not know, was that as soon as I found out you would live, -I resolved to break my engagement with Rosalind, if you would forgive -the past and have me. I have carried out my intentions, and am free to -offer you my heart and my name. Can you love me, little girl, in spite -of my glaring faults, and take me in hand to reform me?” - -His tender eyes shone love into hers, and he looked as though he -meditated kissing her at any moment. Berry felt dizzy all at once, with -a strange feeling, as if she were floating in air on rosy clouds of -bliss. - -“Oh, Berry, why don’t you speak? Are you angry with me still? Will you -not forgive and love me?” cried her ardent lover, with dawning anxiety, -for he felt her little hand growing chill and fluttering like a bird -in his clasp. - -She half sobbed: - -“Oh, oh, I am almost afraid!” - -“Afraid, my darling--of what, pray?” - -“To--marry--you, Mr. Bonair! Because you are all so rich and -grand--your people, you know, and they might not care for you to marry -simple little me, instead of the proud heiress, Rosalind!” she panted -questioningly, while blushes came and went deliciously on her thin -cheeks. - -Charley Bonair looked sober for a moment, then laughed again. - -“Ah! now I am up against the real thing!” he exclaimed. “It is quite -true, Berry, darling, that they may object a little at first, but when -they see how sweet and charming you are, dad and my pretty sisters will -surely come around and love you almost as well as I do. Of course they -would make no end of a bother if I asked their leave first, but I don’t -mean to do it, you see! We’ll get married first, my angel, and announce -it afterward. I can take the Clines into the secret, and we could be -married here to-morrow, in this room, if you will consent, Berry.” - -“Oh, I am afraid, afraid!” she moaned nervously. - -“Listen to me, Berry. Are you afraid that dad will cut us off with a -shilling if I marry you? Do you object to being a poor man’s bride?” -her lover demanded, rather sternly, in his impatience. - -“Oh, no, no! Mr. Bonair--I----” - -“Call me, Charley,” he interrupted imploringly. - -“Charley, then! I’ve always been poor, you know, and I shouldn’t mind -it all with you, dear, if--if--you are sure you will never repent and -be sorry I married you.” - -“You will marry me, then, darling?” He bent and took the kiss he was -longing for. “Bless you, dear, your Charley will never repent he won -such a prize! It may be you that will be sorry, for I have got a hard -name, you know, and need reforming,” he said truthfully. - -“I will love you so, my Charley, it will make a better man of you!” -she cried tenderly, giving way to the rapture of her happy love at -last. Then, as a light tap sounded on the door: “Oh, dear, we were -quite forgetting poor Mrs. Cline, dearest. Do let her in, and explain -everything, or she will think this interview very improper.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. ALL FOR LOVE. - - -Charley Bonair was a man of action. - -Having resolved to marry Berenice Vining, he knew that he would have to -encounter strong family opposition, and foreboded that every possible -means would be adopted to prevent the marriage. - -Therefore he decided to forestall family interference by marrying the -young girl first, and trying to reconcile his relatives afterward. - -His sanguine disposition made him believe that this would be an easy -task. And even if it failed he felt quite independent, even in the face -of possible disinheritance. - -His dead mother had left her own handsome fortune to be divided between -her three children on the coming of age of Marie, the youngest. - -Charley thought he and his love could get along very well on his -portion, especially as Berenice was used to poverty and would not -really know how to be extravagant. - -He made up his mind to have the ceremony quietly to-morrow and he would -then feel surer. - -He took Mrs. Cline partially into his confidence, telling her -that he and Berenice had been lovers before and parted through a -misunderstanding that he had now explained away. - -The next thing he had to do--the hardest of all--was to acquaint -Rosalind with the fact of his acceptance by her rival. - -He felt keenly how unwelcome the news must be to the girl who had loved -him and hoped to be his bride, but he assured himself that she would -soon be consoled by the attentions of other lovers. - -“I am not much of a prize for any girl, if it were not for father’s -money, anyway. She will soon forget me,” he thought, with unwonted -seriousness, for at the thought of wedding little Berry, all the -follies of his youth rose up blackly before his mind’s eye, with a -poignant sense of regret. - -As he strolled slowly backward to the mansion, in the late afternoon -amid the sweet sights and sounds and perfume of spring at her -loveliest, he caught himself wondering “if the old man would ‘cut up -very rough’ over the mésalliance he was going to make,” and if his -dainty sisters would turn up their pretty noses at his humble bride. - -“It is very likely they may, but if so I must face the music and accept -my fate. One thing is certain. I would not give up my bonnie bride for -the whole Bonair fortune, although I should like a generous slice of it -for my bride’s sake as well as my own. Heigh-ho, he may cut me off with -a shilling, though, and then I shall only get the modest portion from -my mother. Without that we should have to live on bread and cheese and -kisses, my love and I.” He threw back his handsome head with a happy -laugh, and went his way, whistling a plaintive Irish air that seemed to -chime with his mood: - - “My fortunes are not what for your sake I could wish them to be; - My wealth consists of but a heart that beats alone for thee; - And when I ask you to be mine, - As I shall surely do, - This is the song I shall sing to you: - - “My heart for your heart - Is all I can give; - My love for your love - As long as we live; - My smile for your smile, - Until life is o’er; - These give me, sweetheart, - I ask nothing more.” - -With a heart elate with love and joy and triumph, he entered the house -and sought Rosalind, but she was nowhere to be seen. - -He sent up a servant to her room to ask for an interview, eager to have -the painful task over that he might give himself up wholly to the -happiness that sent his pulses bounding joyously along his veins. - -The servant came back quickly to say that Miss Montague was in bed with -a sick headache, and had desired not to be disturbed. - -With that he began to feel a little remorseful, saying to himself: - -“Poor Rose! no doubt she has wept herself into a headache over losing -me. I wish she had not loved so well! It makes me feel badly because I -know I don’t deserve one of her tears.” - -He was interrupted here by a visit from the detective who came, as he -had done several times before, to report that he had made no headway -with the case. - -“The old Indian seeress has covered up her tracks completely. I cannot -get the slightest clew to her whereabouts or her identity, and I almost -believe that some disguised person played the part of fortune teller, -and may be laughing in secret at our fruitless search,” he exclaimed. - -While the young man stared at him in startled wonder, he added: - -“I have made up my mind that we can do nothing more until Miss Vane, -the actress, is able to speak for herself. Doubtless she might tell us -something that would furnish a clew. What do you think?” - -“It may be so, but I doubt it. She is fast regaining strength, and I -hope may soon be interviewed on the subject, although the physician -interdicts such conversation now,” Charley answered. - -“In that case I will wait before I take any further steps. If she -cannot furnish any further clew it will be useless for me to go on, as -the murderer or murderess, as the case may be, is securely entrenched -behind a disguise we cannot penetrate,” reluctantly owned the detective. - -Charley Bonair, after a moment’s meditation, agreed with him that it -must be so. - -“One more question,” said the baffled sleuth: “Do you know of any -malignant enemy Miss Vane can have?” - -In his masculine obtuseness, Charley quickly answered: - -“No, I do not know that she has an enemy in the world.” - -The detective mused a moment, then exclaimed: - -“Sometimes love can be as cruel as hate. I wonder if the beautiful -young girl had a rejected lover?” - -He started when he was answered in the affirmative. - -“Ah, perhaps I am getting on the right track now! Where is this man? -Who is he?” - -“He is the manager of the company in which Miss Vane was the leading -lady. His name is Willis Weston, and he may be seen every night on the -boards of the Olympia Theater.” - -“Ah-h, then I have seen him already! A clever actor and a handsome man, -on or off the stage. Perhaps this may give me a clew. I shall look -into his past, and in the meantime, sir, as soon as the young lady can -safely give me an interview, please let me know, for surely she may be -able to throw some light on the darkness of this mysterious case.” - -He bowed himself out, and Charley was about to leave the room also when -he was startled by the appearance of Miss Montague’s maid, Suzette. She -curtsied, and said: - -“My mistress begins to feel a little better, sir, and would be pleased -to see you for a while in her boudoir.” - -“I will come at once,” he replied, following the maid in his eagerness -to be off with the old love, but saying to himself humorously: - -“What fools men are, anyway! They would be lots better off if they left -the women alone and remained bachelors all their lives, but instead of -that they must always be getting into hot water over the pretty dears. -We are weak as children, where woman is concerned, that’s the truth. -Now, I wonder what is up with Rosalind? I pray Heaven she does not -treat me to a fit of hysterics.” - -Suzette opened a door into a shaded rose-hung boudoir, and disappeared. - -He stepped across the threshold and was alone with Rosalind. - -The slighted beauty lay gracefully posing among the silken pillows of -an Oriental couch. - -She wore a negligee robe of soft white lansdowne, embroidered in blue -flowers that matched the striking hue of her beautiful eyes. The golden -lengths of her thick hair flowed unconfined over her shoulders, and her -face, even to her lips, wore a bluish pallor of illness and suffering. - -At Charley’s entrance a melancholy smile curved her lips, and she -extended her white hand, glittering with diamonds, murmuring: - -“Dear Charley, I was really too ill to receive you. See to what a -plight your falsity has brought me. But I hoped against hope you had -relented, and wished everything to be as before, so I sent for you. Ah, -tell me, dear, is it true?” - -Charley’s heart quickly sank like a stone in his breast, for he saw -that his presentiment was right; hysterics were impending, sure enough! - -He felt like swearing, but he controlled the impulse and stood gazing -at her, speechlessly, while she raved on: - -“Oh, Charley, dearest, I’ve thought it all over until my brain is -almost wild, and I’ve decided that I cannot, will not give you up to my -rival! I have the first, best claim, and I will yield it to no other. -Ah, say that you will love me still, that you will be true to your -vows!” - -“Here is a pretty pickle!” groaned the young man to himself, in a sort -of consternation at the situation, his generous heart touched by her -display of emotion, for her beauty and her sorrow were very striking, -almost theatrical. - -But he pulled himself together, and said gently, with an abashed air in -his self-reproach: - -“Don’t say another word, please, Rosalind; you are only making matters -worse. It is too late!” - -“Too late!” she almost shrieked, and he answered seriously: - -“Yes, forever, too late. I’ve proposed to the other girl, and have been -accepted.” - -A cry of rage burst from Rosalind’s lips, and her blue eyes blazed with -the fire of jealous hate. - -She sat erect suddenly and shook her small, jeweled fist close to his -face. - -“Coward! Traitor! You have turned my love to hate, and you shall pay -dear for the slight you have put upon me!” - -“Do you threaten me with a suit for breach of promise?” he demanded -laughingly. - -“Worse than that, far worse!” she answered fiercely, adding: “I know -who my secret rival is already--that miserable little actress that used -to be Berry Vining, and I will have my revenge on you both! Now go!” - -Charley obeyed her with alacrity! - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. THE NEXT DAY. - - -Miss Montague’s headache lasted till the afternoon of the next day, -and she denied herself to every one but her maid, keeping quiet, as -she said, to overcome the attack, but in reality plotting schemes for -revenge on her successful rival. - -Her seclusion ended, she appeared at luncheon, exquisitely gowned, and -with a becoming pallor that witnessed her recent sufferings. - -But all the ladies at the table were pale, for that matter, and they -had pink eyelids, as if from recent weeping, while in their demeanor to -Rosalind was mingled overweening pity and sympathetic tenderness for -her illness. - -So she condescended graciously: - -“Don’t let’s talk of it any more. I’m better now.” - -But it seemed to her, presently, that there was something else in the -air, and, glancing at a vacant chair, she exclaimed: - -“Why doesn’t Charley come to luncheon? Is he sick? Is that why all of -you look so tearful?” - -With that one of the girls choked back a sob and answered bitterly: - -“He isn’t sick, oh, no; much worse! He has gone crazy!” - -“Hush, dearie!” admonished Madam Fortescue, glancing significantly at -the servant in waiting, while she added, to Rosalind, kindly and with -dignity: - -“The news of Charley’s escapade will keep till we have finished -luncheon.” - -After that no one had much appetite, and the four soon adjourned to a -private room where Rosalind said brusquely: - -“If there’s anything to tell, let me hear it quickly--I never could -bear suspense.” - -As they hesitated, with great eyes of sorrow and sympathy, she -continued: - -“Why do you all look at me so strangely and pityingly? Has Charley done -something very bad indeed?” - -“He has gone crazy!” again answered Marie angrily, mopping her wet eyes -with her lace handkerchief. - -“It will break your heart!” sobbed Lucile, adding: - -“Dear Rosalind, please do not be angry with us when you hear it. We are -not to blame, and we will love you all the more for the grief he has -caused you.” - -“My dear girls, you will drive poor Rosalind wild. Let me tell her the -cruel truth at once,” exclaimed Madam Fortescue, and taking the girl’s -hand, tenderly, in hers, she said tearfully: - -“I grieve to tell you that my nephew, Charley Bonair, has to-day capped -the climax of his follies by making a clandestine marriage with the -sick actress whom he saved from the bear pit the night of the ball.” - -“Oh, heavens!” gasped Rosalind, in very genuine horror and indignation, -for she had not expected the climax so soon. - -She sat gazing at the speaker with a pale, stricken face, while she -went on bitterly: - -“It seems Charley had known the girl before that night. He met her -first in the town where you live before she went upon the stage, and -fell in love with her then, so he says. But she had some sort of a -strange disappearance, then, and he believed her dead until coming -home, unexpectedly, the night of our grand ball, he saw her on the -stage and knew her at once for the missing girl. He was so agitated -between his duty to you and his love for her that he did not make his -presence known to us, but went out into the grounds to overcome his -agitation. There he had the good fortune, as he calls it, of saving her -life. The romance of this incident increased his love to recklessness -so that he threw pride and duty to the winds and proposed to the girl -yesterday. She accepted the offer, and this morning he procured a -minister, and they were married, with the Clines as witnesses.” - -Lucile chimed in furiously: - -“He had the impudence to come and tell us all about it when the thing -was irrevocably done, and to beg us to accept that nobody for a sister!” - -Rosalind would never be paler than now, as she sat and listened, -speechless with rage, at Charley’s escapade. - -Where were all the clever plans she had made for circumventing him now? -All shattered to pieces by this action of the ardent lover, who had -cleverly forestalled everything by his hasty wedding. - -“We will never accept her for a sister--never! We will never forgive -him for the slight to you whom we loved already as a sister!” sobbed -Marie, and at this juncture Rosalind thought it was time to fall back, -half fainting, in her seat, but not to go entirely unconscious until -she had heard all there was to tell. - -They ran to chafe her face and hands and to drop tender little kisses -on her brow, until she seemed to revive, and murmured faintly: - -“I am better now. Go on, tell me everything.” - -“Of course, we overwhelmed him with bitter reproaches,” declared -Marie, “and we told him we wanted nothing more to do with him, or with -the low nobody he has married.” - -“And he said--what?” demanded Rosalind. - -“He pleaded for her at first, and then when he saw we were not to be -placated, he grew angry, too, and left the house, saying he would -rather have his little bride’s love than ours. So as soon as he left we -telegraphed father, in Washington, to come home at once and see if he -could do anything to break up the match, for Charley had suddenly lost -his mind and married a low actress that we could never receive in the -family, to say nothing of the slight he had put upon you!” - -“Cruel! cruel! Oh, my heart will break! I can never hold up my head -again for very shame; me, Rosalind Montague, to be jilted for a -creature like that--the daughter of the New Market tailoress, a woman -that worked by the day in a shop!” groaned Rosalind hysterically. - -“Then you know the girl?” asked Madam Fortescue. - -“Yes, she grew up in abject poverty there in New Market. Her father -drove a delivery wagon--till he died--for the tailor his wife sewed -for, and there were a host of children, and this girl, the youngest, -who grew up idle and rather pretty so that she cared for nothing but -flirting and flaunting about, never soiling her hands with honest work. -I knew that Charley flirted with her a little, but mamma advised me not -to find fault with him, saying it wouldn’t amount to anything. Soon -after she disappeared from the town and I never saw her again until -that night of the play. I was almost sure that Vera Vane was little -frisky, flirting Berry Vining, the little schemer, that has cut me out -of my lover!” - -They hastened to caress her again, assuring her of their warm sympathy, -and adding their unalterable determination never to accept the scheming -little actress for a sister. Charley could never be their brother -again, either; they would punish him by treating him as a stranger. - -“If he had told you that he loved her best and wanted his freedom, it -would not have seemed quite so wicked, but when he told us he had done -so, we did not believe him, as you would have told us if such were the -case,” added Mrs. Fortescue. - -“Oh, how could he be totally false? He has never breathed one word of -all this to me. If he had I should have freely confided in all of you. -You know I have made no secret of my troubles,” sighed Rosalind. - -“Only wait till papa comes and he will find a way, I’m sure, to break -the marriage and bring poor Charley back to his senses,” declared -Marie, between tears and anger. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. A FAIR BRIDE. - - -Charley Bonair had indeed gone away from his sisters in an angry mood, -stung by their reproaches and embittered by their sharp abuse of his -wife, the scheming nobody, as they did not scruple to call her to his -face. - -He also, in the fullness of his happiness, had sent off a telegram to -his father before he had carried his news up to Bonair, and it ran very -simply: - -“Rosalind and I broke off recently, and I have to-day married another -girl who has the truest heart and fairest face in the world, so that I -confidently hope for your forgiveness and your blessing.” - -Charley thought this was a masterly stroke, the prompt confession -of his mésalliance, and hoped much from it, little dreaming of the -malicious message that followed it from his sisters, entreating -Senator Bonair to return home and do something or other to Charley in -punishment for the disgrace he had brought on the family, marrying -a scheming little actress, an out-and-out nobody, and jilting his -beautiful promised bride. - -In their anger, the sisters did not care to recall the praises they -had bestowed on Berry for her beauty and her clever acting, nor the -pity they had felt for her after the accident that so nearly ended her -life. Her unparalleled impudence in marrying Charley because he asked -her and because she loved him blotted out everything else in her favor. - -But Charley, returning to the cottage, basked in the smiles of his -charming bride, and resolutely put dull care behind him. - -It is wonderful what miracles love can work in a day! - -Berenice, who had been convalescing slowly and listlessly because her -sad heart took but little interest in life, had changed in a night and -day to a lovely, hopeful creature whose brown eyes glowed with love -and joy, while her thin cheeks had put on the roses of nature under -Charley’s fond, eager glance, that was to her like the sun shining upon -a flower, unfolding it to glorious bloom. - -The happy excitement had loaned her such fictitious strength that the -nurse had permitted her to sit up in a chair for the wedding, and Mrs. -Cline had gone to a shop and bought for her a simple white robe with -white laces and ribbons to make it look bridelike. - -Thus attired, and with her little hand in Charley’s she had murmured -timidly, after the minister, the sweet words of the service that made -her the sweetest and happiest of brides. - -When it was all over they had all gone out quietly and left them alone -for a blissful half hour. - -Charley knelt down by his bonnie bride and clasped her to his heart. - -“My queen!” he murmured, kissing her hands, her face and hair in an -ecstasy of triumphant love. - -She drooped against his breast, very tired, but very happy. - -“Oh, I do not know how to realize my bliss!” she murmured. “I am really -your wife, Charley, your own wife, and you are my husband! Ah, it does -not seem possible! I loved you in vain so long, I almost fear I am -dreaming.” - -“It is no dream, but the sweetest reality in the world--to me!” he -cried ardently, stopping the words on her lips with kisses. And so they -went on, until Mrs. Cline returned and said: - -“Now, my dear sir, you must go out and leave your lady to rest. She has -stayed up too long already.” - -Charley obeyed reluctantly, and beckoning her to the door, said, in a -whisper: - -“You will have to prepare a room for me down here, Mrs. Cline, for I -am determined to stay and nurse my lovely bride back to health.” - -“That can be quickly done, sir. Her improvement is miraculous already, -and will, no doubt, continue with due care. As to a room, I can make -you comfortable, no doubt, but you will miss the grandeur of Bonair,” -the woman answered, with a curtsey. - -Charley answered, with a laugh: - -“I may have to miss those grandeurs always, henceforward, Mrs. Cline, -for if my father should be as angry as my sisters are he will probably -disinherit me.” - -“Ah, no fear of that I think, sir, and you his only son, the apple -of his eye, as it were. And, dear me, sir, if he should be angry at -you, why, what would he be at me and Sam for aiding and abetting your -marriage? He would very likely turn us out of this place!” cried the -woman uneasily, for her many years at Bonair had endeared the place to -her heart. - -“If he does I will find you another place as good, so don’t begin to -worry yet. Let us look on the bright side as long as we can!” cried -sanguine Charley. - -And from that moment he began to live up to his creed, never uttering a -word of apprehension as to the outcome of his marriage. - -He had followed up his telegram to his father with a long explanatory -letter in which he did full justice to the charms of his bride; but -to neither one came any reply, although up at Bonair the sisters had -received a speedy answer that read briefly: - - “I am horrified, but do not see anything that I can do. Will leave at - once in special car for home.” - -So up at Bonair, as the days slipped away, they began to expect the -master, but they kept it secret from Charley, whom they scornfully said -was keeping up his dignity down yonder in his fool’s paradise. - -In fact, Charley did not go near them again. - -He had a sense of bitter outrage in the cavalier treatment they had -accorded him, and kept away from Bonair trying to forget them in the -new and delightful role of benedict. - -In the meantime, the news had got into the daily papers and created its -due sensation. - -Reporters flocked to the keeper’s cottage, and Charley submitted to -interviews for the sake of setting his bride right with the public. -Meager details of the romance were given out and created considerable -sensation; but the still delicate bride saw no one as yet, although the -members of her company called in a body, headed by Mr. Weston, to offer -congratulations. - -Charley entertained them cordially, excusing Berenice on the score of -her weakness, and, saying he hoped she would soon get strong enough -to go away with him on their honeymoon trip. He added genially, that -she could never tread the boards again. She must content herself with -entertaining her husband. - -He took pains to show great friendliness for Mr. Weston at whose secret -pain he very easily guessed, and his cordiality won him a true friend -whose worth was latterly to be well proved. - -So the days slipped away, and Berry would never forget that morning -when she first sat up for the day in a pretty house gown of rosy pink -cashmere, cascaded in lace, that Charley himself had gone shopping to -buy for his darling. She glanced up as Charley entered, and at sight of -his eager face, exclaimed: - -“What has happened, dearest, that you look so excited?” - -He clasped her to his heart, covering the sweet face with ardent kisses -till she laughingly cried for mercy. - -Then he gave her the great bunch of pink roses he had brought, and -explained: - -“I have great news, my darling girl. I have just heard that father -arrived home unexpectedly last evening, and although it seems strange -and rather discouraging that he has not sent word down to me, still I -shall do my duty by going up to call on him, and if he has forgiven -me I shall bring him down to call on his new daughter. If he should -be angry I will soon return alone!” And with a stifled sigh of keen -anxiety, he embraced his trembling bride and hurried away. - -Left alone, she threw herself down nervously to rest on her couch, -quite frightened at the idea of meeting the great, rich senator, her -husband’s father. - -She need not have been so nervous and uneasy had she but known. - -Hours slipped away, and Charley did not return, and her suspense grew -almost unbearable. - -Mrs. Cline came in at last with such a pale, indignant face that the -nervous young bride nearly fainted with dread. - -“Something dreadful must have happened to make you look so strange,” -she cried uneasily, adding: “I fear you have had bad news for me.” - -Her heart nearly stopped its beating when Mrs. Cline answered angrily: - -“Bad! I should say so, but try to hear it the best you can, dear young -lady, for that high and mighty man, your husband’s father, has had Mr. -Charley arrested and clapped in jail on a charge of insanity!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. BRIBING A BRIDE. - - -Mrs. Cline’s startling announcement was like a bolt of lightning -falling from a clear sky. - -The young bride uttered one horrified cry, then fell back in her chair, -half fainting, her big, frightened brown eyes staring wildly at Mrs. -Cline, who, in a very tempest of excitement, continued to rage. - -“Never heard of such high-handed villainy in my life, never! No wonder -you look so white and scared, my dear young lady! Here, drink this wine -to nerve you while I tell you the rest.” - -She pressed the glass to Berry’s lips and forced her to swallow a few -mouthfuls, then began again: - -“Try to bear it the best you can, for it can’t be kept from you, all -this bad news, and you must keep your wits about you to plan something -to do for your husband. Yes, cry all you want to, it’ll relieve your -heart; and this outrage is enough to make the very angels weep! The -servants at Bonair tell a terrible tale about the fuss between the -father and son! They say there was an awful scene between them when Mr. -Charley went in this morning. The senator was in a tearing-down rage, -and would not listen to a word of excuse for his marriage, but cursed -and abused him, and finally turned him out of doors, disinherited. And -the worst of it was that he had already caused a warrant to be got, -arresting him for insanity, and the officers took him just as he was -leaving his father’s house, all broke up with sorrow and despair.” - -“Ah, Heaven! my poor husband!” moaned Berenice, heartbroken and -bewildered. - -“Wasn’t it an outrage!” cried the woman indignantly. “And to climax the -meanness, Mrs. Bonair, what else do you think that heartless old hunks -of a senator did? He got mad at my husband for letting the wedding be -at our home, and has discharged him from his position at Bonair, and -ordered him to vacate this cottage as soon as he can pack up his goods.” - -“Oh, Heaven! that you should suffer for our fault. This is terrible. It -were better I had perished in Zilla’s clutches than to live and involve -poor Charley and his friends in such misery!” sobbed Berry. - -“Don’t look at it that way, dear young lady,” condoled Mrs. Cline, who, -having now blurted out the whole story, became less excited and eager -to soothe the distressed young bride, so she continued: - -“Bless your heart, we can soon get another place--sooner, I expect, -than the senator can suit himself to another man. And we aren’t -penniless, either. We have a tidy bit of savings put by, besides the -nice gift of money, so don’t worry over that! The thing is to get Mr. -Charley out of jail as soon as possible.” - -“But, oh, how shall we do it? It is cruel, cruel to have placed him -there! We know well he is not insane!” wept Berry. - -“Of course he is not,” agreed the woman; “and my husband says a lawyer -must be got at once and set to work to get him out of that as soon as -possible.” - -“Hark! the doorbell!” cried Berry, and Mrs. Cline went to obey the -summons. - -She returned quickly with an official-looking letter. - -“It is for you--brought down by one of Senator Bonair’s servants, who -will wait for the answer,” she said, in high excitement. - -The startled bride took the aggressive-looking envelope, with fingers -that shook as she tore it open. - -Her eyes were so blurred by tears she could scarcely read, but -presently it all came to her that Senator Bonair was making her a cold -business proposition to consent to a prompt divorce from his son upon -the payment of a handsome sum of money. - -The tears rushed to her eyes--tears of burning indignation--and her -heart beat suffocatingly. - -“What does the old villain want of you, if I may ask?” queried the -curious Mrs. Cline. - -Berry handed her the letter to read, saying bitterly: - -“He wishes to bribe me--Charley’s bride of a week--to consent to a -divorce.” - -“The mean old tyrant! He ought to be hung!” ejaculated the woman, as -her eyes devoured the curt note. She handed it back, and asked: - -“What shall you say to this insult, dearie?” - -“Only give me a pen and I will show you!” cried Berenice, her eyes -flashing through their bitter tears. She seized it and wrote, in a -nervous, trembling hand, across the back of the senator’s sheet: - - “Those whom God has joined together, let not man put asunder!” - -To these words the bride wrote her full name, in a large, aggressive -hand: - -“Berenice Vining Bonair.” - -“I guess that will settle him for good!” laughed Mrs. Cline, as she -handed Berry a fresh envelope to address to Senator Bonair. - -This done, she carried the letter quickly to the waiting messenger, -saying, with a proud toss of the head: - -“There’s a letter for your master, and much good may it do him! -There’s some folks whose principles he can’t buy with his yellow gold!” - -She was turning to retrace her steps when she saw Mr. Weston coming up -to the door with a pale, excited face. - -“Ah, good morning!” he exclaimed courteously. “I hope the invalid--Mrs. -Bonair--can see me this evening for a few minutes. I have just heard -the shocking news about her husband, and came to see her to offer my -services to do anything she wishes, providing, of course, she has no -nearer friends she would prefer to act for her in the case.” - -“Bless you, sir, I don’t think she knows anybody in San Francisco but -us two, and poor Sam is so upset with his discharge off the place, and -moving orders at the same time, that I don’t believe he hardly knows -where he’s at, sir; and it seems like Heaven must have sent you to -my poor lady’s relief!” cried Mrs. Cline, ushering him straight into -Berry’s presence without thinking it necessary to ask permission. - -Berry was sobbing, bitterly, with her face in her hands, and she looked -up with a start that made him say deprecatingly: - -“Forgive this intrusion, but I came to see if I couldn’t help you. I -know the outrage your husband has suffered, and he will need a friend -to look after his interests. Do you wish me to act as your friend in -this matter?” - -“Ah, this is very noble in you, Mr. Weston. A friend in need is a -friend indeed. I accept your offer in the same spirit it is offered, -and am most grateful,” faltered Berry, giving him her hand which he -pressed, cordially, then released, saying: - -“Now I am very glad, indeed, that I came. Of course, this absurd charge -cannot be proved against your husband, and the whole affair is spite -work, still he may be imprisoned for days and kept in suspense when -prompt action might procure speedy trial of his case and consequent -freedom. Having your leave to represent you in this case, I shall -engage a lawyer, who, with a writ of habeas corpus, can secure Mr. -Bonair’s immediate release and trial on the groundless charge.” - -“Oh, thank Heaven--and you!” cried the bride fervently. “Oh, then -perhaps he need not, poor boy, spend the terrible night in prison!” - -“That I cannot promise you certainly, but I will make all possible -haste to restore him to you quickly. In order to do this I must be -going. Farewell, and keep up a brave heart. This is only a temporary -affliction; it will soon be over,” he added cheerfully, bowing himself -out, leaving Berry with a lighter heart, though her tears flowed fast. - -“You are clean wore out with your troubles, poor soul!” cried Mrs. -Cline. “Now you must lie down and rest a while, so as not to get sick -again, won’t you? For we shall have our hands full now, me a-packing -up, and Sam a-looking out for a place to move to, see? But we shan’t -desert you, you poor lamb, nor Mr. Charley, either; for no matter where -we go, you can come with us, and he can, too, until he gets fixed for -that honeymoon trip he’s been planning this week! Though dear knows if -he can afford it now, because he has only an allowance from his father, -and I don’t know if he has saved any of it or not! But there’s money -coming to him from his mother’s estate before long, and that’ll fix him -up nicely, you see.” - -While she chattered on, Mrs. Cline got Berry to lie down on her little -white couch for her much-needed rest, and then she went out to see to -the packing up of her household goods, preparatory to giving up the -cottage to another tenant. - -Many tears fell as she moved about her work with the assistance of her -yellow-faced Chinese boy of all work, for she had come here a bride, -eighteen years ago, and fondly hoped to spend her life in the cottage -with Sam. But fate had willed otherwise, and with a sad heart she -prepared to go. - -But not for all that did Mrs. Cline repent for one moment her kindness -to Mr. Charley and his bonnie bride, although that had got her into -trouble with the master and banishment from Bonair. - -“I’d do the same thing over again, if I knew beforehand what was going -to happen!” she vowed stoutly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. FORGETTING THE WORLD. - - -The time is late summer on the bleak coast of Cornwall, a year and -three months since the day when Charley Bonair walked out of the -courtroom in San Francisco, cleared of the charge of insanity brought -by his nearest and dearest relatives, and freed by the efforts of the -man who had loved Berry so loyally that his friendship became her stay -in the time of her sore need. - -Grateful to those who had befriended him, embittered by persecution, -Charley Bonair and his lovely bride had exiled themselves within a week -after his acquittal on the charge of insanity. The young man still -had some means left, and gathering everything together, he sailed for -foreign shores with Berry, having first instructed a lawyer to attend -to the rights of his inheritance from his mother when the property was -divided, on his sister’s coming of age. - -That was long ago, and many things had transpired in that time. - -To begin with, the disinherited son, never used to economy before, -had recklessly spent the funds he had in hand, traveling expensively, -showing Berry the wonders of the Old World, and answering to her -timid remonstrances on his extravagance that he had plenty to last -six months, and by then Marie would come of age and he would get his -portion of five hundred thousand dollars from his mother. - -And, oh, the days, the weeks, the months, how happily they had gone to -the young pair of married lovers! - -They had done the Continent leisurely at their own sweet will, they had -wandered hither and thither with not a care save the silent grief of -the young husband over the estrangement from his own people, and as to -Berry, she had found out long ago, by a cablegram, that her mother was -still living, not dead, as the vile fortune teller had falsely declared. - -On getting this news the young husband had promptly sent his -mother-in-law a sum of money sufficient to keep her in ease and comfort -a year, so that Berry’s heart was at ease, and she gave herself up -wholly to her happiness. They adored each other with a true devotion -that never grew less. They were all in all to each other: - - A book of verses underneath the bough, - A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou - Beside me singing in the wilderness, - And wilderness were paradise enow! - -Whatever the carping world might say of the millionaire senator’s only -son’s mésalliance, to him it had been a salvation, turning him from -evil courses to a purer, better life, making out of him the noble man -nature had intended him to be. - -His lovely bride grew more charming every day, to his enraptured eyes, -and he bitterly regretted the pride that had prevented his family from -seeing and knowing the girl whose flawless beauty and simple goodness -must, if permitted the opportunity, have won its way to every heart. - -He grew hot and angry when he remembered how bitterly they had railed -against his darling, saying to himself that it was not like them to be -so harsh and unforgiving, and it was surely Rosalind who had set them -onto such cruelty, for she had threatened him with dire vengeance, and -this was how she had kept her word. Once he had pitied Rosalind, but -now he hated her for her malice that had cost him so dear. - -He got another taste of it when the time rolled around for the division -of his mother’s fortune, for his lawyer wrote him that Senator Bonair, -as sole trustee, refused to surrender his son’s portion, still claiming -he was insane and unfit to have the use of the money. - -Then it was Bonair’s wrath waved high. - -“Berry, darling, will you excuse me if I go out and swear a little -outdoors? Oh, yes, I know I promised you never to swear again, but a -reformed man must relapse at times, you know, and really this seems to -me an occasion for profuse profanity!” he said grimly, to the beautiful -creature who smiled tenderly at him and answered: - -“But do not stay out long, dearest, or I will not forgive you breaking -your promise to me.” - -He was not absent very long, and when he returned, he said: - -“On second thought I didn’t swear at all; I wrote my lawyer to bring -suit against my father at once for the payment of my money.” - -“Do not worry over it, dear. We have each other, and are happy as we -are,” Berry answered, with a coaxing smile. - -“Oh, yes, we are happy as we are, but our money will not last much -longer, little one, and you have not been well lately, and we will need -a lot of money for that sweet secret you whispered to me yesterday,” -the young man answered, with a new, dignified gravity very becoming. - -Berry’s lovely color deepened, and the glance of her brown eyes was -simply adorable. - -“But you know we must not travel about, now,” she murmured. “We must -settle down and live quietly until June, you know, as the doctor said, -so it will not take so much money to live as when we are always on the -wing. We can take a tiny little house or a little suite of rooms, and -keep house with one maid, don’t you see; or if we cannot afford the -maid, why, I can do the cooking myself, you see. Do you know I can make -tea and toast, and broil steak, and serve eggs in most any fashion, -sir?” she added smilingly. - -“I am very glad to hear it, but we need not come to that. I think we -can have the little suite of rooms and the maid of all work. My lawyer -will be glad enough to furnish me the means of subsistence while he is -prosecuting my suit,” the young husband answered confidently. - -The plan was carried out, and by Berry’s wish they made their little -home in London, for she was tired, she said, of the foreign lingo she -couldn’t understand, and wanted to stay among people who spoke her -mother tongue. - -So they came from France and Italy, where they had passed the winter -months, to London, where, in a comfortable but not luxurious suite of -rooms, with a buxom maid of all work, they lived quietly and happily -until May. Berenice devoted her time of seclusion in studying the -languages under the tutorship of Charley, who was quite proficient in -that line. - -Thus quietly and happily they waited an event that was to crown their -wedded lives with happiness. - -Alas! fortune frowned on their springing hopes. Their little baby died, -soon after birth, and was laid tenderly away in a wee green grave. But -for over six weeks, a battle of physicians went on, with grim death in -the foreground, trying to snatch Berry from their fostering care. - -Never till now did Charley Bonair realize the depth and strength of -his love for his precious wife. Sharing the vigils of the doctors -and nurses with ceaseless care, he grew to feel to his heart’s core -all that she was to him, and knew that if she died, life would be -unendurable to him forever after. - -Oh, what joy when the wavering balance of life and death dropped her -into her husband’s arms again, with the chances in her favor for -recovery! - -While she lay so ill, he had learned to pray, this man who had almost -forgotten his God, and now he sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for her -restoration. - -While she was slowly convalescing, the head physician ordered that Mrs. -Bonair should be taken, as soon as she was able to be moved, down to -the sea, naming an obscure and rude little fishing village on the coast -of Cornwall as the preferred situation. - -“She will have absolute calm and quiet there, and it is very essential -to her shattered nerves and frail condition of health,” he said. - -“We shall be buried alive,” Charley said grimly to his wife when he -took her there, but she answered, with her usual sunny good nature: - -“At least we shall be buried in the same grave, so I am content.” - -“And I,” he answered as happily. - -Thus we find them, in late August, by the sea, where Berry recovered -her health and spirits again, and so in love with the free, wild life -of the unconventional village of hardy fisher folk that both were -loath to leave. So they lingered on, from day to day, saying “it is so -pleasant staying, and so cheap living, we will not go away until we -get news from California of the success of the suit for his mother’s -fortune.” - -Since she grew well and strong again, Berry had taken up her studies -with zest, by Charley’s wish, trying to make herself equal in education -to any position she might be called on to fill in the future. - -For she knew now that, dearly as he loved her, there was a silent ache -in his warm heart for those who cast him off in anger, and that he -hoped against hope for a reconciliation at some future day when his -bride’s true worth and beauty shall be known and acknowledged. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. TURN OF THE TIDE. - - -The lawsuit had dragged on interminably for six months, and it seemed -as if a decision would never be reached, so that Charley was getting -very poor, indeed, and very impatient, although, to tell the truth, he -was finding that love in a cottage was very charming, after all, as -there were funds enough coming from his lawyer still to keep the young -pair in bread and cheese and a little more. - -In the meantime Charley’s two beautiful sisters had both married -in June, and the newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic had duly -chronicled the grand double wedding at Bonair, when Marie and Lucile -had wedded the rich New Yorkers to whom they had been betrothed before -Charley’s mad marriage. They had crossed the Atlantic on their wedding -tour and were now in Switzerland. Along with reports of the wedding was -an item that made Charley throw down the paper he was reading, with a -sigh from the bottom of his heart. - -“Hello, Berry, we are in hard luck now, to be sure! Dad will never be -reconciled to us now, never! He is going to give me Rosalind for a -stepmother!” - -Berry was lounging on the sands in an old blue boating suit, her hat -lying at her feet and her curly hair blowing about her tanned face and -rosy cheeks that suddenly grew pale, as she turned a solemn pair of -eyes on his face. - -“Oh, no, no, no, he must not!” she exclaimed vehemently. - -Charley Bonair gave a curt, angry laugh, replying: - -“Easy enough to say, but how are we going to prevent it, pray?” - -“Yes, how, indeed?” Berry answered, turning a troubled gaze back to the -sea, with the white caps rolling in, the seagulls flitting about with -their strange cries. She had no more to say, and Charley picked up the -paper again and said: - -“The engagement has been authoritatively announced, and my silly old -dad has commenced the erection of a palace in Washington where she -will reign a queen at the next session of Congress. Isn’t it a burning -shame?” - -“Yes--she is not worthy of your father, if he is as good and kind as -you say he is in spite of his injustice to you,” Berry replied, with -palpable chagrin, her brooding brown eyes still upon the sea as it -gleamed in the morning sunshine, fairly dazzling her sight. - -The young man frowned and sighed, then burst out frankly: - -“It’s true all I said of him, Berry, darling. He used to be just the -dearest dad in the world, kind, loving, and indulgent to a fault, and -so were my pretty sisters, too; and I never dreamed they could turn -against me in the way they did, and hold out spiteful all this time. -But I see how it is now! It’s that scheming Rosalind setting them on, -determined to get the Bonair millions for herself, either through the -father or the son. Her mercenary spirit and her thirst for revenge -have led her on to this, and poor dad has been like wax in her clever -hands, so she has molded him to her will. Berry, I always heard that -a handsome woman could make a fool of the smartest old man, and now -I see it’s true. It’s flattered vanity, that’s what it is, or an old -man might always see that no pretty young woman loves him for himself -alone. It’s always for some cash he has in hand! Oh, Berry, why did you -make me swear off on profanity? Surely this is an occasion for it!” he -groaned. - -“Oh, don’t Charley, dear! It would not help things any,” she answered -gently. - -“At least it would relieve my feelings,” he answered ruefully, adding -whimsically: - -“Say, Berry, see that old fisherman tacking in to shore, below there? -Black Dobbins they call him, and he is the most picturesque swearer -you ever heard of on the Cornwall coast. Say, I’ll go down there and -give him a crown to swear a blue streak of lightning for me. Don’t you -listen, darling, unless you want to have that creepy feeling running -down your spine.” - -He strolled away, but before he got to Black Dobbins, Berry called -after him hastily: - -“Oh, Charley, come back! You didn’t notice the letters with your mail; -you were so angry over the news. Here’s a letter from your lawyer in -California, and another from those dear, good Clines.” - -“Read them while I attend to business,” he returned, keeping on, and -saying to the fisherman: - -“What luck, Dobbins?” - -The net was nearly empty, and Dobbins replied with a string of -appalling oaths to which Charley listened with perfect complaisance, -after which he threw the angry fisherman a silver crown, exclaiming: - -“Those are precisely my sentiments, Dobbins. Accept this token of my -appreciation!” - -While the man gaped in amazement, he laughed again and turned on his -heel, going back to his wife. - -“I feel better! That fellow comforted me. He swore at his ill luck and -I applied all the ‘swear words’ to Rosalind, and paid him a crown,” he -said drolly. “Ah, my dear, you look brighter! Any luck?” - -“Oh, Charley, Charley!” - -“Oh, Berry, Berry!” - -“Don’t laugh at me, you dear old silly! I can hardly find words to tell -you, but--but”--radiantly--“our luck has turned at last, Charley. You -have won!” - -She flung herself, tumultuously, into his arms, regardless of Black -Dobbins, gazing curiously from a distance, and joyfully fingering the -generous crown, and Charley hugged her tight, crying: - -“Hurrah! hurrah! Five hundred thousand dollars for you and me, little -lovey-dovey, and now you shall be a little queen! I shall deck you out -in silks and laces and diamonds, and buy you an automobile, sure; and -we shall be as happy as the day is long!” - -“We are happy as that now, and we could not be any happier if we had -all your father’s millions. All we wish is his good will,” Berry -answered seriously; then drawing back from his embrace, she added: - -“That old man is staring at us; perhaps thinking we have gone suddenly -mad! Sit down and read your letter like a dignified, married man, now.” - -He obeyed, and found that all she had said was true. - -The suit was won. His father’s lawyers had given up and the case was -definitely closed. Senator Bonair indeed had sailed for Europe some -time previous, and perhaps his son had seen him somewhere before this. -He hoped, fervently, that they might meet and make up their quarrel -before the consummation of the senator’s reported engagement to the -beautiful belle, Miss Montague. Otherwise it was certain, in the event -of the marriage, that Charley would never get a dollar of his father’s -money. - -“Dear old dad, it is not his money as much as his good will that I -covet!” cried the young man, adding: - -“Ah, Berry, how glorious it would be to have you in Washington next -winter, queening it over my father’s new house instead of hateful -Rosalind. You are so lovely, so winning, I predict you would carry -society by storm.” - -“There’s no danger of my ever having an opportunity to do so, but so -long as I can queen it over your heart I do not care,” she answered -lightly, though her heart beat high at his words of praise. - -She was only a woman, after all, and she longed to show Charley’s proud -relations that she was worthy of his love, and that she had made a -better man of him by her tenderness; but it could never be. They would -never forget she was born in a lowly cot, wreathed in morning glories, -instead of a lordly castle. She would not have cared so much only she -would like to win their favor for Charley’s sake, because it would -make him so happy. - -She turned to the letter from the Clines, who were doing well in -another place in California, and who related the news of the double -marriage and reported engagement, as they had just read in the -newspaper, and closed with their dear love and respect to Mr. Charley -and his bonnie wife. - -And now the young husband began eagerly, with shining eyes: - -“It is more than likely father will be in London, now. Oh, Berry, what -if we go up there and try for a reconciliation? Perhaps his heart may -have melted by now.” - -“Dearest, do you remember what the doctor said? I must not go away from -the sea till the last of September. But although I cannot go with you, -there is nothing to hinder your going alone. I can stay here with the -maid till you come back to me. See, I will not be selfish. Although I -came between you and your father’s heart, my dearest wish is to see you -friends again, even though he should never speak to me. Oh, go, go, my -dearest love, and try to make your peace with him!” - -“Darling little angel, I will take you at your word, for my heart -yearns to my silly old dad, that’s a fact,” he cried eagerly, and -before night he was en route for London, leaving Berry at the cottage -alone with the buxom maid, who, to dry her mistress’ tears, immediately -proceeded to retail all the news of the village. - -Had she heard about the grand, rich gentleman up at the inn, in the -hollow, who had sickened with smallpox the very day he arrived, and -was lying at death’s door up there without a nurse or a doctor, for -everybody had fled the pestilence in alarm, and there was no one to -care for him but the valet, who cursed the cowards, and was waiting -on his master all by himself, doing the best he could, promising -loads of money for help, but no one would believe his tale of riches, -or that his master was an American lord, standing up close to the -very president himself. His name? It was Bonny Hair or Bonny Air, or -something very like it. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. A FRIEND INDEED. - - -The loquacious maid who had been pouring out her story without a single -period, now paused for breath, and Berry stared at her with wide, -wondering brown eyes. - -The name of the sick American, as rendered by the maid, caught her -instant attention. - -“Bonny Hair, or Bonny Air--something like that,” said the maid, and how -like it sounded the name of Bonair. - -A quick suspicion stirred Berry’s mind into agitation. - -“Why, it might be Charley’s own dear father lying there ill, and -deserted by the stupid, fearsome fisher folk, helpless, for all of his -millions, to secure a nurse!” - -Her brown eyes flashed, and she rose up hastily. - -“Hannah, I’m an American, too, and I’m going up there to nurse the old -man. I cannot let my fellow countryman die for lack of a friend.” - -“But, oh, my dear mistress, it’s that terrible smallpox. You wouldn’t -dare! You would catch it and die.” - -“No, Hannah, I’m immune. I had the disease years ago, way back in my -old New Jersey home, and am not even pitted, you see, save two deep -scars where it does not show. So I shall go, and at once, leaving you -to care for the home till I return.” - -With Berry to make up her mind was to act. She dressed herself simply -and comfortably, and packed a suit case with necessary clothing, after -which she went to a drug store and made some purchases. After leaving a -letter for Charley, she hired the nearest conveyance to take her to the -inn where she meant to take up the part of a good Samaritan. - -The driver was so frightened when he saw the yellow flag waving from -the gate of the inn that he refused to go within a square of the house, -and she paid him and walked the rest of the way, with her luggage and -her bundles. - -How lonely and deserted looked the weather-beaten old inn with the -doors tight shut and the curtains down, as if death already brooded -over the house. - -Berry pulled the knocker several times, loudly, before she had any -response, and then the valet, unkempt and unshorn, himself answered the -door and gazed in surprise at the beautiful girl standing expectant -with her luggage at her feet. - -He bowed, then stammered: - -“Oh, miss, you had better go right away. Didn’t you see that yellow -flag at the gate? There’s a case of smallpox in the house, and no -travelers are taken in now.” - -“Where is the landlord?” she asked, and the man answered furiously: - -“The cowardly rascal ran away, with his servants, and left me alone -here with my sick master; and although the fellow promised to send me -a nurse or doctor, or both, not a hair have I seen of either yet, and -here I am with Senator Bonair on my hands, ill as he can be, and I -daren’t leave him to hunt for any one to help me; and even if I went -they would shun me like a wild beast, fearing the contagion. It’s a -burning shame, so it is; but I’ll not run away like a coward, though, -belike, I’ll be taking the disease myself and dying of it, too.” - -His mouth flew wide open as Berry said calmly: - -“I am the nurse for Senator Bonair, and I shall vaccinate you at -once--what is your name?” - -“John Tousey, please, miss.” - -“Very well, John; take my luggage to a comfortable room, please. And -the next thing will be to vaccinate you so that if you should contract -the disease you will only have it in a light form. I came prepared -for this,” and making him bare his arm she took a lancet, scratching -a small spot on it, with outward nerve and inward quaking, feeling, -when the blood was drawn, that queer sickness that presages fainting. -Overcoming the weakness with a strong effort of will, she duly used -her vaccine point, much to the man’s relief, for his countenance -brightened, and he exclaimed: - -“Bless you, miss! I’m so glad you came, and I hope this will save me -from that awful scourge. I began to think the old landlord lied, when -he said that he’d send us the nurse and doctor.” - -“I was told at the drug store that the doctor was ill himself, so there -was none to come but me,” the nurse replied, adding: - -“But I know how to treat the case very well myself, as the disease ran -through my own family once, and there’s more in the nursing than the -medicine, so lead me to your master and we’ll see what is to be done.” - -With joyful alacrity, the man preceded her to the darkened room where -lay her millionaire father-in-law in the terrible plight of a smallpox -patient at the worst stage, without benefit of doctor or skillful nurse. - -Berenice took hold of everything with an ease that fairly charmed John -Tousey, evolving comfort out of chaos, and soon making the sick man -more comfortable in every way. - -The larder was well filled, so that, although isolated from their kind, -they were in no danger of starving. Berry took up her burden with a -cheerful heart, thinking: - -“Although Senator Bonair may despise me for being a poor cottage girl, -it is well for him now that I am skilled in homely accomplishments, -that I may minister the better to his needs.” - -She wondered, as she went busily about her work, when Charley would -return and what he would think of the task she had undertaken. He would -be disappointed at finding her gone, but he could not blame her, could -not think she was in the wrong. - -She had written to him sweetly: - - “I have isolated myself from you for a time, my dearest love, but - when I tell you why I am sure you will be glad for me to do this act - of kindness. - - “I heard that a man who must surely, from his name, be your own - father, was up at the inn, very low with smallpox, and that every one - but his valet had deserted the poor man, and he was likely to die - without doctor or nurse, so I thought it was my plain duty to come - and nurse him. - - “There is no danger for me, you know, because I have had the disease, - and I also know how to treat it, so do not worry over me, but go and - get vaccinated as soon as you can and try and get some good doctor to - come and see the patient. - - “Dearest, try to rest easy. You can hear from me every day this way. - I will wave a white flag from the window every day at noon. That will - mean all is going on right. Be patient, I will do all I can for the - dad you love so well. - - “BERENICE.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. A GENEROUS OFFER. - - -Poor Charley, returning next day from London, depressed and discouraged -at not seeing his father, was dazed to find his sweet wife gone, and to -get her letter of explanation. - -But after the first shock of surprise, and trouble, his warm heart -thrilled with joy and pride at her noble deed. - -“Father cannot help but forgive us now if she should save his life, -dear girl, for when once he knows her how could he resist her grace and -beauty?” he said, over and over, to himself hopefully, for the yearning -for reunion with his kindred was strong within him. - -“Rosalind is at the bottom of it all. If I could but break her -influence, all might be well again; but she is posing as injured -innocence and beauty, and hardening their hearts against me for her -sake,” he thought, with impatient resentment. Then he put it from him -to write a long letter to Berry--a real love letter, full of praise and -tenderness, which he went and slipped under the front door of the inn -that night. - -She very soon found it, and smiled to herself as she appropriated the -sealed envelope addressed simply to “The Lady Nurse.” - -Hurrying to her tidy little room, she read the loving contents and -kissed the letter over and over, hiding it next her heart, while she -returned to her duties by the sick man, who was very ill indeed, with -his eyes quite shut so that he could not see the vision of beauty and -tenderness that bent over him. But not so wholly unconscious that he -could not feel the balm of healing carried by the soft white hands that -touched him so gently. He knew, dimly, by her gentle ministrations and -the improved food, that the valet now had efficient aid. And that was -enough, in his feverish state, to soothe his mind. - -Within twenty-four hours came the physician engaged by Charley. Though -he shook his head over the gravity of the case, he approved all that -Berenice had done, and desired her to continue at her post. - -So the days came and went and the disease ran its course quickly, while -John Tousey also came down with a light case, so that the physician -recommended another nurse, an elderly woman, who took second place to -Berry in the conduct of the invalids. - -Charley had taken the young physician frankly into his confidence, -telling him to safeguard his young wife’s health very carefully, and by -him he sent her daily letters of love and cheer, telling her how he -missed her, and of the pride he felt in her noble mission. - -But, ah, how they missed each other, the loving pair; how slowly the -weeks of absence went, and how happy the day when Doctor Perry said to -the lonely husband: - -“My patients are convalescing fast. The valet is going to sit up -to-day, and to-morrow the senator will be allowed to sit up for an hour -or two. He is quite out of danger, and I am going to tell your wife she -may leave him to-morrow and come home. I am not sure the patient will -like it, for he is devoted to her and impatient of the elderly woman, -but he will have to bear it.” - -He was right, for when the senator was told next day that Miss Brown, -as they called her, was going to leave him, he protested vigorously; -said he could not spare her yet; he needed her to read and talk to him, -and was willing to pay any price to have her stay on even one week -longer. Why, his eyes had only got strong now to see how lovely and -charming she was, and he needed some one pleasant to look at since he -could not have his daughters, who were both on their bridal tours, and -to whom he had not allowed any message of his illness to be sent. - -“But you have a son, sir?” interrogated Doctor Perry. - -The invalid’s face gloomed over, and he answered curtly: - -“I had a son, sir, but he died to me when he disgraced his family by -jilting the sweet young girl to whom he was betrothed, and wedding a -low-born, scheming actress.” - -He did not hear a low, soft sigh outside the half-open door, for Doctor -Perry said, with apparent surprise: - -“You astonish me, sir, for we English have been led to believe that in -your favored land of America you raise no barriers against marriage -with those of inferior birth or fortunes.” - -The senator answered testily: - -“We raise no barriers against true worth, Doctor Perry. I myself am a -self-made man, risen from poverty, and not ashamed of it. But you have -heard that circumstances alter cases? Well, let me explain. My son’s -offense had not been so unpardonable had he been free to choose the -girl he wed, but when he took the marriage vow he dishonored himself -and his family because he was already pledged to another, a girl whose -heart was almost broken by his falsity.” - -“Yet rumor says that she is already consoled by a promise of your -hand, sir,” the young physician ventured. - -Senator Bonair’s face already reddened by his illness, flushed deeper -as he exclaimed: - -“You seem well posted on my affairs, sir.” - -“I beg your pardon, but no offense was meant, my dear senator. Surely -you know that the affairs of so eminent a person as yourself are -public property. All I have spoken of to you I have read in the London -newspapers, but perhaps I should not have ventured to discuss them with -you.” - -“You might choose pleasanter subjects,” the senator answered quickly. -“For instance, my pretty young nurse whom we were discussing just now, -and to whom Tousey says I really owe my life, coming to me as she did -when I was in the worst stages of my illness.” - -“Tousey tells the truth. You could hardly have lived a day longer -without her kindly ministrations at the time she came to you. But the -time has come when, for the sake of her own health, she must forsake -you and go home to rest.” - -“Ah, she is tired, broken-down--you mean that?” - -“Somewhat that way, for Miss Brown herself has had a serious illness -this summer, and that explains why she was found in this rude village -where she remains to strengthen her health. I hardly believe it safe -for her to remain another week in attendance on you. But here she -comes,” as a light step crossed the threshold, “and I will let her -speak for herself.” - -Berenice entered, graceful as a young princess in her snowy white gown -and becoming nurse’s cap, and she gave the doctor a roguish smile that -plainly said: - -“I’ve been eavesdropping, but, of course, you knew that I was there.” - -He smiled back at her and retired, leaving her alone with the patient, -who, in his dressing gown, lay back at ease in his reclining chair, -watching with admiring eyes every movement of his fair nurse. - -Berry sat down close to him and looked, shyly, into his face, trying to -appear at ease, though her poor heart thumped wildly against her side, -and the fitful color came and went, like a flag of distress, in her -cheeks. - -“Ah, you are getting on fast, sir!” she cried, with a slight tremor -in her musical voice. “Your eyes seem quite strong to-day, and that -blistering red skin is getting fairer. How fortunate, too, that you -will only be pitted very slightly, and if I could but have come to you -a little sooner you need not have carried a single scar.” - -“You came in time to save my life, dear child, that was enough,” -replied the great man, so kindly that it emboldened Berenice to exclaim: - -“Oh, how glad I was to serve you, sir! I can never make you realize -it. It is sweet to save a life so valuable to the world and to so many -friends who love you.” - -He smiled at her gratefully. - -“Among those latter friends, please let me have the pleasure of -counting you, henceforth, Miss Brown,” he answered. “In my gratitude -to you for all you have done for me in this terrible illness, I look -upon you almost as a daughter, and am eager to advance your interests -in any way most pleasing to you. Our good doctor has just told me that -you must leave me soon, to my great regret. But, as he puts it, on the -score of your health, I dare not protest against my ill fortune in -losing you, just as we begin to know each other well.” - -“Your words make me very, very happy,” she sweetly said, “but do not -think that I intend to desert you altogether, for I shall remain in the -village a while longer, and I will come and see you every day, if you -will let me.” - -“I shall be only too glad to have you come whenever you will, my dear -young lady, and I wish you to understand that I take a deep interest -in you and am anxious to reward you beyond your mere salary for all you -have done for me. Tell me frankly, Miss Brown, if there is any great -favor, financial or otherwise, I can do for you?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. ALLOY ALWAYS GLITTERS. - - -Berenice was so overwhelmed with joyous excitement that the tears -rushed in a torrent to her eyes, and she half sobbed: - -“Ah, you could do much for me if you would--but--I fear to ask.” - -“Only try me, dear girl; only name your wishes and see. If you need -money, and very likely you do in your position, I am very rich and -surely the saving of my life is worth a little fortune to me. Come, dry -your tears and let me make you happy. I shall write you a check for -five thousand dollars. That is little enough for all I owe you, too -little! Will that please you?” - -She flung out her white hands convulsively, sobbing: - -“No, no, no--not a penny! I am not rich, but a fortune is not what I -crave. There is something dearer, dearer!” - -“What else, child, speak? What other favor can I do for you?” the -senator asked, in growing wonder. - -He was more amazed than ever when the white-gowned figure knelt, -humbly, at his feet, with little, upraised, beseeching hands. - -Berenice pleaded, wildly, through raining tears: - -“Oh, sir, there is one who loves you dearly, one whom you used to love, -but your heart is turned against him and he is in bitter sorrow for -your anger. It was I who unwittingly came between you, and if I have -done aught to merit your favor, the reward I ask is not for myself but -him--only this, forgive him, take him back to your heart!” - -There was an awful silence. - -Senator Bonair sat still, growing deadly pale through his florid color, -like a statue stiffening into stone, his eyes fixed, sternly, on the -beautiful, kneeling suppliant. - -“Who are you, then, if not Miss Brown?” he asked, in a hard, cold voice. - -“Oh, don’t you know already, sir? Have you not guessed?” she faltered. - -“Are you my--I mean Charley Bonair’s wife?” - -“Ah, yes, yes--I am his wife, the little actress you hate because she -rivaled proud, rich Rosalind,” she confessed. “Must I go now, must I -go?” - -“Not yet. Wait and tell me if this was a plot to creep back into favor -for the sake of my fortune? Did Charley send you here to nurse me -so devotedly that I could deny you nothing?” The tone was harsh and -grating. - -Berenice, still kneeling, put up her small hands as if to ward off a -blow. - -“Ah, cruel, cruel!” she moaned. Then bitterly: “How could you think -your son so low? Did he show a mercenary spirit when he married poor -little Berry Vining? Oh, may I tell you all about it? Will you listen -fairly?” - -“Yes, I will listen, but stop crying first and get up and sit in this -chair close by, while you tell me how it happened.” - -Berenice, looking adorably pretty and pitiful, obeyed him, and after -drying her wet eyes again, said patiently: - -“It was this way, sir: Just as I tell you, Charley loved all of you -dearly and grieved over the separation, not for your money’s worth, but -for true love’s sake. So that day when he read you were in England, he -said he would go and find you and beg your forgiveness. But I--I--was -timid and afraid of you, so I stayed here. I refused to go. When he -was gone I was lonely, and the maid told me of the desperate case of -the sick man up here, with no doctor or nurse, so I thought it must -be you and I came to you, asking no one’s leave because I knew when -Charley should come back he would feel I had only done my duty coming -here to succor his dear father. And I was right, for so he said in his -letters afterward. Oh, sir, we are not after your money, we only want -your pardon--for him, if not for me, poor Charley! Because he loves you -so! As for me, I have done very little, really, for there was no risk -nursing you since I had already had the disease years ago. I--I--might -never have told you who I was, or claimed any favor, only that you -bade me to, and then my heart leaped at the thought of my husband. Oh, -cannot you understand?” She broke down and hid her lovely face in her -dimpled hands. - -Her dazed father-in-law sat watching her, noting her wonderful grace -and charm, recalling what his son had said to him the day of their -bitter quarrel. - -In his weakness and loneliness, the old love, smothered under anger, -seemed to surge upward again and flood his whole being with tenderness -for his son. But he called pride to his aid, lest she should see too -quickly, this lovely suppliant, how the ice was melting around his -heart. - -“Tell me,” he said, and his voice sounded stern and harsh in her ears, -“tell me all about yourself and Charley--how you first met, how love -grew between you until he forgot his troth to Rosalind. Begin at the -beginning; leave nothing unsaid.” - -Berenice obeyed, nothing loath, for it pleased her to recall -everything connected with Charley, and she left nothing untold from the -hour of their first meeting until now. - -Senator Bonair, resting easily, with half-closed eyes, did not miss a -word of her story, nor an expression of her radiant face that glowed -with happy blushes as she told her tale of love. - -He sighed heavily, and turning to her as she ended her story, remarked: - -“It would make a pretty novel, this love story of yours and Charley’s, -and I should not have found much fault with it if Rosalind had been -left out of it, but her wrongs made me indignant, caused all my -bitterest anger against you both.” - -“It was sad,” replied Berenice, “that she should suffer for our -happiness--very hard. But it was better for Charley to tell her the -truth frankly, as he did, and ask for his release.” - -“Yes, I agree with you on the latter point, but Rosalind denies that -Charley ever asked for a release. She claims that she was betrothed -to him all the while, and her mortification was so extreme that to -palliate my son’s offense I----” he paused and bit his lips, but -Berenice finished the sentence for him: - -“You threw yourself into the breach, with your high sense of honor, and -offered to heal the wound by marrying her yourself, thus still making -her prospective heiress of the Bonair millions, the high stakes for -which she was playing.” - -He quickly took up the cudgel in Rosalind’s defense. - -“Hush! she is not mercenary. I am sure she loved my son dearly, and can -never give me but a tame affection. If I believed Rosalind unworthy of -my respect and love, I could sooner forgive my son’s perfidy. For I -must own you are a very charming little lady!” exclaimed the senator -frankly. - -She smiled up at him gratefully. - -“Not little lady--little daughter,” she pleaded. - -“Little daughter, then,” he amended smilingly, and felt his heart -thrill warmly at the word. - -“I thank you a hundred times!” she cried, blushing with joy, and -adding: “Now I know you will forgive Charley and call him son.” - -He answered gravely: - -“Do you think if I will forgive him and receive him again he will be -content with that? For you know I have disinherited him out of justice -to Rosalind, whom I am to marry.” - -“Oh, sir, if you marry Rosalind, Charley will not strive for the -miserable money. We have been happy without it for more than a year. -But--but--I prophesy that you will never marry Rosalind, because you -will learn, before it is too late, that she is unworthy of you!” - -He frowned, and said: - -“Nay, you have already wronged Rosalind enough; let her name rest. She -will surely be my bride.” - -Berenice sighed and held out her hand, replying: - -“If I believed that, I should be very sorry for you, sir. But I must be -going now. My poor boy is wearying for me this long time. Tell me, do -you forgive him? May he come to-morrow?” - -“He may come to-day. I am too impatient to wait,” the senator cried, -with a sudden outburst of tenderness. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. AN OLD FOOL. - - -September slipped into October and Miss Montague returned home again -from Bar Harbor, where she spent the summer. - -Up at the hall it was very gay, for she was entertaining a house party -of her friends, to all of whom it was well known that her trousseau was -being made ready, and that before Christmas she was to be married to -the multimillionaire, Senator Bonair. - -But latterly Rosalind, although outwardly gay, was inwardly disturbed -and uneasy, for in nearly two months she had no letter from her elderly -betrothed, and became alarmed lest he should slip through her fingers. - -In the absence of her betrothed she had consoled herself by flirting, -in which she was an adept, and managed, on the whole, to pass away time -very pleasantly. - -There was one man who had danced attendance on her all summer, a -handsome, dark-eyed, jealous fellow, that she preferred to any other, -and she said to herself that she would keep him dangling on, till the -senator came home, then, she would have to dismiss him for good. He -was desperately in earnest, she knew, and she sometimes shuddered, -wondering what he would do when he was given his congé. She would not -be surprised in the least if he committed suicide; but if he chose to -be such a fool, how could she help it? - -Now that October was nearing its end, a vague uneasiness began to -possess her, for it was quite two months since Senator Bonair had -written, and she wondered at his strange silence, and that he did not -return home. - -Of the two daughters who had gone abroad on a bridal tour around the -world, she also heard nothing. The silence was puzzling, annoying. Not -even the ubiquitous newspapers seemed to know anything of the great -man’s whereabouts. - -“It looks bad, and I do not know what to make of it,” she said to her -mother uneasily. - -“Have you written him?” - -“Several times, and as the letters are not returned he must have -received them, so his silence is hard to understand.” - -“It is very hard, indeed, for an old lover is mostly a greater fool -than a young one,” said the worldly-wise mother. “Now, the senator -acts so indifferently that he is quite puzzling. I expected he would -write to you by every mail, and fairly load you with costly gifts, but -he seems to almost forget your existence, and as for gifts, you have -received nothing but your diamond engagement ring, and that handsome -pearl necklace. If I were you, Rosalind, I would call him to time!” - -“What could you do, mamma, since he does not answer my letters, and I -cannot follow him up, not knowing whither he has gone?” Rosalind cried -impatiently. - -“I would write him again--a real love letter, pleading and reproachful -by turns, insisting on an answer. Make him show his hand, whatever he -has got up his sleeve,” exclaimed Mrs. Montague, rather coarsely. - -“Faugh! the idea of writing a love letter to that gray-haired man, -sixty years old!” pouted Rosalind disdainfully. - -“You will have to pass a long life with him, remember, and he will -expect love-making from you, too, which is worse than writing a love -letter,” reminded Mrs. Montague. - -“A long life with that old dotard! No, no, don’t you fancy such a silly -thing as that, mamma! When I get him I shall lead him such a dance I -shall soon worry him into his grave.” Rosalind laughed heartlessly, -much to the displeasure of her mother, who, though worldly-wise and -scheming, was not so cruel by nature. She proceeded to read Rosalind a -lecture on the duty to the man she should marry, all of which was heard -with a rosy face, and interrupted before its end by the exclamation: - -“Oh, bother! don’t lecture me! I shall do as I please with my doting -old spouse!” - -“There’s another thing, my dear, and that is, I think you go too far -flirting with this Adrian Vance. We really do not know much about him, -who he is, or why he seems so devoted to you. They say he comes of very -humble origin, and certainly he is poor enough! You are making him -desperate with love of you. You should send him away.” - -“I shall do no such thing. I intend to keep him dangling on, to flirt -with after I have married old Sir Moneybags!” Rosalind laughed, with an -insolence that brooked no further interference. - -But she was not quite a fool, this scheming beauty, so she heeded her -mother’s advice enough to write such a letter as she advised, and she -waited impatiently enough for an answer, for although she did not love -the old man, she dearly loved the moneybags she talked of so glibly, -and also her revenge on Charley Bonair. - -To her surprise and relief, the fond love letter brought a prompt -reply. - -Senator Bonair had been too ill to write to any one, and not wishing to -alarm his daughters or his betrothed, had not suffered any one else to -write to them of his illness. - -Therefore, although he had had her letters forwarded from London down -to the village, he had not troubled himself to reply; and now that he -was better he had a weakness of the eyes so that the doctor forbade him -to use the pen. - -In this dilemma, he had recourse, of all people in the world, to his -son, to act as his amanuensis. - -The father and son were on excellent terms now, and the young couple -had taken up their quarters at the inn at his urgent request, to help -while away the dull hours until he was well enough to go. - -“Here, Berry, you write the letter for father to his sweetheart!” cried -Charley coaxingly. - -But Berry, always so gentle, suddenly turned stubborn and flatly -declined: - -“I will have nothing to do now, or ever, with Miss Montague!” she said, -shaking her dark, curly head. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. THE UNWELCOME LETTER. - - -Charley took up the pen to write to his future stepmother, and looked -at his father. - -“Shall you dictate, sir, or will you tell me your desires and leave the -rest to me?” he asked. - -“I will tell you what to say, and you may put it in your own words,” -Senator Bonair replied. - -So it happened in due time that there came across the sea to anxious -Rosalind this answer to her charming love letter: - - “DEAR ROSALIND: You’ll be surprised to get this letter from me - in answer to your loving one to father, but as you have consoled - yourself for my fault, I hope you bear no ill will, and that you are - willing to let bygones be bygones. To tell you the honest truth, - Rosalind, I’m so happy with my darling little wife, I feel at peace - and amity with the whole world, and as dad wants me to write you - this letter, I embrace the chance to tell you so. I don’t mind - your marrying dad, if you love him. If not, please don’t, for his - happiness is very dear to me. - - “You wondered why dad failed to write to you, and he wants me to - explain. Well, this is why: Along late in August he came down here - to the little village by the sea, alone, with his valet, and first - thing he knew he came down with a horrid case of smallpox, and - everybody deserted him but Tousey, who didn’t know a single thing - about nursing or cooking, either, so dad was likely to die. By the - best luck in the world my wife happened to be in the neighborhood - (I was in London myself), and she went to his aid, like a brick - (excuse slang). You see, she had had smallpox and knew how to nurse - it. She also knew how to get a decent meal, so between her two - accomplishments she dragged dad out of the jaws of death. Then she - wrote me to send a London doctor, which I did, and although the sick - man went down to the gates of death they dragged him back, and now he - is convalescent, but not allowed to read or write yet, so he is using - my pen and eyes to allay your anxiety. - - “Of course, it follows, dad has forgiven Berry and me, and just dotes - now on my charming wife. - - “But dad wishes me to say that our reconciliation makes no difference - in his duty and his feelings to you, and that he has not reconsidered - his disinheritance of his disobedient son. Your marriage dower will - be quite as large as he had promised before, and the future must take - care of itself. I have won my suit for my mother’s money, and if I - never get a penny of dad’s my little love and I can be perfectly - happy without it. - - “Dad will be home weeks before the wedding, so don’t worry, he says, - as he loves you as well as ever. My sisters will be home before the - wedding, too, he says, but I don’t expect an invitation, and would - not come if you sent one! I suppose you and Berry won’t care to meet - for a good while yet, and I won’t force a crisis. We will likely make - our home over here, anyway, as Berry isn’t used to society, and I’m - not rich enough to keep in the swim, either. So when dad goes, I’m - going to buy a fine automobile, and we two, my love and I, are going - touring in it. We shall be as happy as two birds in a nest. - - “The next letter will be from dad himself, telling you when to expect - him home. Good luck to you, Rosalind, and good-by. - - “CHARLEY BONAIR.” - -This was the startling letter that threw Rosalind into a fit of angry -hysterics. - -“The game is lost to me, I feel it, I know it! Oh, why did I let him go -away from me over there, where those two scheming wretches were sure to -nab him? Why didn’t I insist on an immediate marriage, so as to go with -him? I was a fool letting him out of my sight as I did!” - -“Rosalind, your fears are groundless. Nothing but some glaring fault in -yourself would prevent the marriage, and I tremble over this flirtation -with Adrian Vance if it even gets to his knowledge. You go too far, -indeed, my dear.” - -“Quit preaching, for Heaven’s sake; you drive me mad!” Rosalind cried -angrily. “I shall flirt all I like, and with whom I like, for when I am -tied down in wedlock with old Moneybags I shall have to be so proper I -shall die of dreariness!” - -When she had got over her hysterical fit, she dressed herself with care -and went down to her guests, where Adrian Vance always flew to attend -to her lightest wish. When they got away by themselves, presently, in a -shaded alcove behind the curtain, she said carelessly: - -“I have just had a letter from the senator, and the poor old man has -had smallpox in a dreadful form. I am wondering if he will be so pitted -as to make him more homely than he was before?” - -“I hope he may be rendered so hideous that you will break the -engagement on sight,” he responded passionately. - -“Ah, Adrian, I wish he had your good looks along with his millions. -Then I should be happy, indeed.” - -He seized her white, jeweled hand in a crushing pressure. - -“Ah, Rosalind, why are you so cruel when I love you so well and you -pretend that you return it? Let that old man go, and give yourself to -me.” - -“I promise you now,” she whispered softly, leaning close to him, “that -when old Moneybags dies and leaves me his millions, I’ll take you, my -dark-eyed Adrian, for my second husband, and let you help to spend the -money.” - -“You tempt me to murder him by the time the marriage ceremony is over! -Have a care, Rosalind, for what you put in my head!” the man whispered -back hoarsely. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. BITTER MEMORIES. - - -It was two weeks later that the bride-elect got the promised letter -from Senator Bonair, saying that he would follow the letter home, and -hoped to greet her by the first of December. - -Further on in the letter, the senator mentioned he hoped she was not -sorry he had made up his quarrel with Charley and his charming wife. He -was getting on in years, now, and it was such a comfort to have a son -for a staff to his declining years. Not that he expected to see much -of them, though, because the happy pair intended to make their home -abroad. Then, too, Marie and Lucile had declined to meet or forgive -their brother and Berry, so it was best they should dwell apart. - -It rejoiced Rosalind’s heart to hear that her friends, Marie and -Lucile, had stood loyally by her and refused to be reconciled to -Charley and his humble bride. - -“It is well that they oppose their father in this, else the foolish old -man would be wanting them to come and live with us, and I am determined -they shall never cross the threshold of my home when I am married,” -she vowed to her mother, who approved the declaration, saying that -no one could ever expect Rosalind to forgive the injury received at -Charley Bonair’s hands. - -“Speaking of Charley’s wife reminds me, Rosalind, that we must try to -get that old woman, Mrs. Vining, to come up and help at the hall for -a week, finishing up the sewing, as the seamstress says she must have -more help or she can never get through in time,” continued her mother. - -“Very well, I will stop at the cottage as I drive down and see about -it, mamma. I suppose she will be glad to get the work, as I don’t -think Berry’s grand match has improved her mother’s fortunes. Indeed, -I wonder if she even knows that Charley married her hateful actress -daughter?” cried Rosalind. - -“Oh, yes, I think she has written home of her grand match, for all the -village seems to know of it. I have heard our servants talking of it -when they did not know that I overheard their silly gossip. But, as you -say, it can do her no good. She has not apparently benefited by it, as -she still lives in the old weather-beaten cottage.” - -“Yes, I will employ her,” declared Rosalind, “if only to have the -triumph of seeing Charley Bonair’s poor old mother-in-law toiling for -me. Ha, ha! what a spectacle!” She ended with a harsh, grating laugh -of smothered rage. - -When she drove out with Adrian Vance that afternoon, she got him to -wait at the cottage door, in the automobile, while she went to see Mrs. -Vining. - -The woman’s youngest son, a boy of sixteen, met her at the cottage -door, and led her into the small, neat sitting room, saying he would -call his mother. - -He disappeared, and Rosalind looked, superciliously, about the small -apartment with its dingy furnishings, muttering: - -“I would rather die than be poor and shabby. I declare I don’t see -how very poor folks endure such an existence. Ah, what----” the -sentence ended abruptly, and getting up with a swish of trailing silk -and flutter of rich laces, she swept across the room to a new easel -standing in a corner with a good-sized picture upon it, representing -a group of two--a picturesque group of two lovers, a handsome man, -a lovely white-gowned girl, standing, hand in hand, amid tropical -shrubbery. - -Rosalind gazed with idle curiosity a moment, then her eyes flashed, -and a keen, bitter pain stabbed her jealous heart like the point of a -dagger. - -The picture was a large, framed photograph of Charley Bonair and Berry -that they had sent to Mrs. Vining months before. - -The beauty and the happiness of the handsome pair struck Rosalind’s -heart with bitterness, but while she gazed the mother’s voice said, -just behind her: - -“Ah, Miss Montague, you’re admiring the picture of my little girl and -her husband. It’s the image of Berry, bless her dear heart, don’t you -think so, miss? She sent it to me a while ago, and oh, how glad I am -the dear girl is happily married! But I beg pardon, can I do anything -for you, Miss Montague?” - -“I am to be married soon, you know, Mrs. Vining, to Senator Bonair, and -some of my simpler things are being done at home by seamstresses. Mamma -sent me to ask if you will come and help finish up, next week? She will -pay you more than you can earn at the tailor shop.” - -“But I am not at the tailor shop now, Miss Montague.” - -“Indeed? Have they discharged you, then?” insolently. - -“Oh, no, miss; I left of my own accord. I’m getting to be an old woman -now, and must rest for the balance of my life.” - -Rosalind looked more closely, and noted a more prosperous air about -Berry’s mother than she had ever seen before. - -“I do not understand how you expect to live without work,” she said -sharply. - -“It does seem strange to you, doesn’t it now, Miss Montague, seeing how -I have been working and toiling here all my life? My son-in-law, out of -his good heart, has sent me a present of a thousand dollars to take my -ease on, and says there’s more to come when I have spent it all.” - -“So then you will not come to sew?” Rosalind exclaimed sneeringly. - -“No, Miss Montague. I’d rather not, thank you all the same for giving -me the chance if I needed it, but Berry wrote I mustn’t work any more.” - -“I’ll go, then,” Rosalind cried, with an angry flirt of her skirts that -tumbled the picture off the easel and splintered the glass over it; -while with a smothered, malicious laugh at what she had done through -pure spitefulness, she swept from the house, leaving the old woman busy -gathering up the fragments. - -“I’m cross; I don’t care to drive to-day. We will go back home,” she -said to Adrian Vance sharply. - -Mrs. Montague spied her coming, and came to meet her, saying: - -“You got back sooner than I looked for, Rosalind, but none too soon, -for a cablegram has just come to you, saying Senator Bonair cannot -sail as soon as he expected, but hopes not to be delayed much longer.” - -“He cannot come? Why? Is this another scheme to postpone the wedding?” -Rosalind cried, in a loud, angry voice. - -“Hush, Rosalind, don’t fly off into a rage so fast, and I’ll tell -you the rest. The senator explains his disappointment by saying that -Charley and his wife had a wreck while coming on their automobile from -Trouville to Paris, and that both are so terribly injured they may not -survive the day.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. DELAYS ARE DANGEROUS. - - -It was true, that dreadful cablegram that shocked even Rosalind’s cruel -heart! For a moment she gasped with surprise and grew pale even to her -rosy lips. - -But the next moment she threw off the spell and laughed gratingly, so -that even the worldly-wise mother said rebukingly: - -“How can you laugh, my dear girl? It is really very shocking to think -of that young pair being so terribly injured in an automobile accident -that they must almost certainly die.” - -But Rosalind only laughed again. - -“Mamma, what is the use of your acting goody-goody when you know what -all this means to me?” she sneered. “In the first place, I hate Charley -Bonair who jilted me, and his wife who supplanted me, with a bitter -hatred that can only rejoice in their deaths, so why should I pull a -long face, when nothing could please me better? And, secondly, if they -had lived, old Moneybags might have revoked his disinheritance of his -son, and cut me out of some of his millions at his death. So what seems -like a calamity to them is a benefit to me, and I rejoice accordingly. -Mother,” she added, as with a sudden thought, “I shall cross the -ocean to my betrothed’s side! I shall have to do the sympathy act, of -course--snivel and whine, and pretend to be sorry they are dead, while -my heart is full of rejoicing! But no matter, so that I gain my end!” - -“But, Rosalind, my dear, what can be gained by such proceedings?” - -“How stupid you are, to be sure, mamma! You must be getting into your -dotage not to see that if he goes into mourning for his son, and -objects to a public marriage with all its attendant sensation, I can -easily lure him into a quiet, private marriage on the spot, and come -home Mrs. Senator Bonair, don’t you see?” - -“Yes, yes, that is a very clever idea, Rosalind--a good idea all -around, for then we shall be spared the trouble and expense of a grand -wedding, for which it would have been hard to raise the money, and your -father’s affairs in such a fix! But for that matter it won’t be easy to -get it for your trip, either. Besides, you know, I cannot leave your -father’s sick bed to chaperon you, and you could not properly go alone.” - -“All that can be easily arranged. Our late visitor, Mrs. Brander, sails -in two days for Europe to join her married son in Paris, and she will -be only too glad to have my company on the trip. For the rest, I can -sell some of my jewels for the passage money. I shall have plenty more -as soon as I am married.” - -“It is all very easy as you have planned it, and I don’t doubt you -will succeed with such an indomitable will as you are now displaying,” -commended Mrs. Montague. - -“We must begin to get you ready to start in the morning to join Mrs. -Brander,” she went on. “I suppose you had better break the news to our -remaining guests, at once, that Senator Bonair has cabled for you to -come to Paris. I hope they will all take their departures quickly, as -under the circumstances they ought to do.” - -The guests were all of the same mind with her, and after hearing the -sad news and offering formal condolences suited to the occasion, did -some hasty packing and were all out of the house by nightfall, the last -one to leave being Adrian Vance, who said, as he pressed her hand at -parting: - -“I shall lodge in the town to-night and bear you company to New York on -the morning train. Indeed I am not sure but I shall follow you to Paris -on the same steamer.” - -“Oh, indeed, you must not! I shall not permit it,” she replied, with -a glance that belied her word, and silently invited him to disobey her -mandate. - -As a result he kept his word, and as soon as the steamer left her -moorings he joined Rosalind and her chaperon as their traveling -companion. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. TRUE TO HIS WORD. - - -It was true that Lucile and Marie, who, with their husbands, were now -in Paris, had hardened their hearts absolutely against their brother -and his lowly born bride. - -They had joined their father at his hotel, but after they had heard the -whole story of Berenice’s care and devotion that had saved his life, -they were rebellious; they could not forgive. - -The sisters remembered how beautiful and charming Berenice had been -that one night upon the stage at Bonair, but the thought of that beauty -only hardened their hearts, since it was this that had made their -brother a traitor to Rosalind. - -“Papa, we cannot look at it as you do; the cases are different,” they -said to their father. “And if you want our advice it would be to give -them a large sum of money rather than try to secure social recognition -for them that would result in many unpleasant complications.” - -“I did not think you could be so cruel to your only brother who loved -you so well,” their father said rebukingly. - -“He put that low-born actress before us and Rosalind in his heart,” was -the answer. - -“Rosalind, always Rosalind! I am sick of the very name! Do you owe no -duty to others?” he cried angrily, and they started with surprise. - -“Rosalind is to be your wife and our stepmother--we should consider her -first,” they replied stubbornly. - -“By Heaven, I wish I had never promised to marry the girl! I wish I -could get honorably free of her claim, for my son is dearer to me than -Rosalind can ever be, and I detest the thought that she is to stand -forever between Charley’s heart and mine!” the senator stormed, in -sudden desperation, outraged by their heartlessness. - -Marie and Lucile listened in the greatest wonder, and they cried out -simultaneously: - -“We thought you loved Rosalind better than any of us!” - -In his anger he replied truthfully: - -“I have never pretended to love her, and I regret now I ever made the -rash promise to marry her, for very likely she only desires it to get -revenge on Charley and Berenice for their fault against her, which -was not so dreadful, after all, for my son swears he confessed all to -Rosalind first and asked release from his engagement to her, although -afterward she denied it to us, and we rashly took her word against -Charley’s. When I look back I remember that Rosalind really courted me -first instead of my courting her, and through an old man’s flattered -vanity and the wish to atone for Charley’s fault, I promised to make -her my bride. But now I swear I am sorry for it, and wish I could -retreat in honor, for I shrink from putting another in the place of -your dead mother, my beloved wife; and, besides, I do not believe in -the union of May and December.” - -“But, papa, you cannot retreat from your bond. It would be unfair to -Rosalind; it would be worse than Charley, for the wedding day is barely -a month off,” they reminded him. - -“No, I cannot retreat in honor. I must marry Rosalind and make the most -of my life,” he replied bitterly, adding: - -“Fortunately my private business and affairs of state engross most of -my time, and as for her, I suppose she will be happy enough spending my -money and flirting with younger men.” - -“Oh, papa!” cried Lucile reproachfully. - -“For shame, papa!” cried Marie indignantly. - -But in their hearts they both knew he spoke truly. - -Rosalind was extravagant to a fault, and a bold coquette--they could -not deny either charge. - -But Rosalind had been their schoolmate and chum; she was in their set, -she was handsome in her way, and they would not be ashamed of her, as -they must be of poor little Berenice, the lowly born bride of their -only brother. - -So they held out for Rosalind, declaring it was only loyal to do so, -and beseeching their father not to jilt her as Charley had done. - -He, on his part, promised faithfulness, and the interview ended, much -to the relief of all parties, having been productive of no good on -either side. - -The young wives, having told everything to their proud and -exceptionable husbands, were consoled and sympathized with, and told -that they had acted right. - -So Senator Bonair, who had almost promised Charley that they should -have a family reunion and reconciliation at Paris, was obliged to write -to his son that his sisters were obdurate and unforgiving and that when -he came to bid him farewell, he could not meet the kindred he loved so -well; because, in their loyalty to Rosalind, they would not forgive his -folly nor recognize his bride. - -It was cruelly hard on Charley, who had hoped so much from his father’s -intercession, and when he showed the letter to Berenice, he said -bitterly: - -“They were sweet, loving girls before they came under Rosalind’s -baleful influence, and I wish they could know her as well as I do, and -realize her catlike, revengeful nature, then they would not harden -their hearts against us any longer. It is by her cruel machinations I -am sure that Marie and Lucile have become so heartless.” - -“But, Charley, even if we could turn their hearts against her, by -telling any harm we knew, it would not be right, because we have -already injured her in her tenderest affections,” his lovely bride said -gently. - -“Affections!” laughed Charley scornfully. “All her love is for money -and position, and in wedding my father she will gain more than she lost -in me.” - -He was wrong, but he had never realized in his indifference to Rosalind -that the girl had doted on him with her whole heart, or that slighted -love had driven her to madness. It is true she would not have looked at -him twice had he been penniless, but having looked, she had truly loved. - -Charley read on from his letter that his father was sailing soon for -America, and he hoped they would not forget the promised visit to bid -him farewell. - -“We will go to-morrow,” the young man said eagerly. “I will tell my -chauffeur to have everything ready for a fine automobile trip, so that -we may go as fast as the wind, for there is nothing I enjoy so much.” - -When the order had been given he returned to clasp her to his heart, -and say, with passionate devotion: - -“Do not think I am fretting because my sisters will have nothing to say -to us. Although I love them well, I love you, my dearest, more than all -the world besides. I can be happy without them, and perhaps it is best -we should remain sundered from the family since Rosalind is to make one -of it, and she would always be plotting against us. Henceforth we will -live only for each other.” - -Next day came the terrible accident, when the automobile, flying from -Trouville to Paris, at a high rate of speed, came into collision with -a huge rock that sent it flying upward as it exploded, its passengers -being scattered upon the flinty ground, the chauffeur meeting instant -death, and Charley and Berry such terrible injuries that it was -pronounced impossible for either to survive the shock. - -The next day the news was in all the newspapers of England, France, -and America, and in the roadside cottage to which the victims had -been tenderly carried after the terrible accident, a broken-hearted -father and two remorseful sisters bent over the unconscious forms in -agonies of grief, the father crying: “Thank Heaven I forgave them!” -The sisters, weeping bitterly: “Heaven forgive our cruelty that we did -not!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. A LATE REMORSE. - - -When the dreadful news was carried quickly to Paris, Lucile and Marie -forgot all their pride and resentment and remembered only the love and -pride they had once had in Charley, their beloved brother. - -They set out quickly for the scene of the accident, accompanied -by their father and husbands, and they took with them two of the -most skillful physicians in the city, hoping they might render some -service to the sufferers. When they reached the cottage they found the -sufferers hovering between life and death. - -The poor chauffeur had met death instantly, and as no one knew if he -had any friends at all, preparations were already made to give him a -respectable burial in hallowed ground. - -When examinations had been duly made it was found that Charley was more -seriously injured than his wife. He had an arm and some ribs broken, -in addition to many bruises, while Berenice had no bones broken at -all, and if she had no internal injuries she ought to recover, the -physicians said. - -She presently proved the correctness of their diagnosis by rallying -under treatment and opening her eyes in a vacant stare that as yet had -no light of reason in it; but as for Charley, he was too badly off to -show any signs of life for twenty-four hours, save the faint throbbing -of his heart. They feared concussion of the brain. - -Marie and Lucile, overwhelmed with remorse, outdid themselves in -devotion. - -As for Senator Bonair, if ever a thought of his betrothed crossed his -mind it was with poignant regret that he had given her a promise he -could not, in honor, break. - -When the patients began to show signs of improvement it only aggravated -his chagrin against Rosalind; but for the wedding he could have taken -these two dear ones with him to Washington, where Berenice would have -made a lovely mistress for the grand new home he had built. - -It was strange how quickly the young wife rallied and improved. She had -suffered from severe mental shock more than physical injury, and in a -week she was able to sit and watch by Charley’s bed and smooth his hot -brow with her soft, trembling little hands, vying with the sisters and -the nurse who performed the more onerous duties. - -A frail white lily, so pure, so fragile, she looked to the sisters who -had hated her so, but who now pitied and loved her for her own sweet -sake as well as her unfailing devotion to their brother. - -So the days came and went until over two weeks had passed; then the -grieving family had a great surprise. - -There stopped one day before the cottage a carriage, and out of it -stepped Rosalind, in her handsomest traveling gown, with an anxious -look on her beautiful face. - -“Ah, my dear senator!” she cried, holding up her face for a kiss, as -he stepped out to meet her. “How glad I am to see you again! As soon -as I got your cablegram I started to come to you, feeling that in your -trouble my place was by your side to comfort you, for I feared that -Marie and Lucile could not come as soon as I.” - -She had scarcely uttered the words when the sisters came out to greet -her with kisses and loving welcomes. - -“But I thought you were absent on your wedding tours?” cried Rosalind, -secretly chagrined at their return. - -They led her into the small sitting room, and she added, with eager -curiosity: - -“I was told in Paris that your brother is living yet, but cannot -recover. Is it true?” - -“He is living yet--and we hope he may recover,” Marie said tearfully, -without noticing Rosalind’s frown at the news. - -Stifling an angry sob, Rosalind continued spitefully: - -“And that horrid girl--the daughter of our village tailoress--she also -lives, I suppose? You cannot kill such people! They are very tough.” - -She was startled when Lucile said, with a certain proud dignity: - -“Please do not talk like that any more, Rosalind, for she is my sister -now.” - -“And my daughter,” Senator Bonair said tenderly. - -“And a sweet, lovely creature!” Marie added frankly. - -“Well, upon my word!” cried Rosalind, in frank anger and amazement. She -realized that Berenice was forgiven; worse still--beloved. - -An insane anger took possession of her, and she longed to strike every -one in the face. It seemed to her, in her fury, that she could kill -them. - -Her anger gave way to hysterical sobbing, and then the sisters fell to -soothing her tenderly and explaining how it all came about. - -The senator had retreated, frowningly, at the first signs of -hysterics, so the three were all alone, and the sisters felt it was the -time to give good advice. - -“Oh, Rosalind, you will have to give in and be very friendly, or papa -will be displeased with you,” they said. “And, after all, it will be -better to have peace in the family, don’t you think so? For even if -poor Charley lives, he and his wife will never intrude on you, unless -you invite them, you know. But now, in the face of death, papa will not -love you as well if you do not forgive.” - -It was a bitter pill for Rosalind, but she knew they were still her -friends, and she did not care to antagonize them until she gained her -point. - -She sobbed dismally a moment or two, then lifted a piteous face, and -murmured: - -“Then I must try to forgive my enemies, for your father is the only -friend I have in the world now, and if he turns against me I am all -undone.” - -“Why, how strangely you are talking, Rosalind--you who have a father -and mother, and hosts of friends!” they cried, in amazement. - -“Alas! you cannot guess at all my troubles. Listen and you will own -that my words are true. My father, in his extreme old age, has met with -financial disaster that has wrecked his mind. He is confined to his -room, my mother his constant, watchful attendant. But worst of all, I -have incurred my mother’s anger by undertaking alone this journey to be -by your father’s side in his troubles. She forbade me to come. She said -it was indiscreet, unwomanly, and that I could never hold up my head -again if I outraged society by such a step. She refused me the money -for my journey, so I sold my jewels to pay my passage over here.” - -“Dear heart!” murmured Marie, pressing Rosalind’s white hand, while -Lucile added: - -“How noble!” - -“Do you think so?” cried Rosalind eagerly. “And do you think your -father will be as noble in return? For mamma said if I dared risk my -reputation coming to him alone this way there was but one thing a man -of honor could do in return for such blind devotion, and that was to -marry me out of hand, to silence gossiping tongues. Not that I mind, -dear girls, but for mamma’s sake--she is old and prudish, you know--do -you think he would be willing to quiet her foolish scruples and ease my -heart by a quiet marriage to-morrow? Do you think he would be willing -to do me this kindness? Will you, my dear friends, ask him for me?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. A BITTER SECRET. - - -“Rosalind Montague here! Ah, Heaven, what ill work is on foot now?” - -The words broke almost unconsciously from Berenice’s lips when they -told her that her arch enemy was in the house. - -She flung out protecting arms, and clasped Charley, as he lay in a half -stupor on his couch, murmuring, half distractedly: - -“Ah, my love, my love, I must guard you now from her hate as well as -from your terrible illness. I will never leave your side, never, my -darling, never leave you alone, lest her baleful presence overwhelm -your life!” - -The startled sisters thought she must have suddenly gone mad with -unwarrantable hatred of Rosalind, and they tried to soothe her frenzy. - -“Oh, my dear, what wild words are you saying? Do you not realize that -it is wiser to be friends with Rosalind, who will have, as our father’s -wife, more influence over him than any one else? She is willing to -be friends with you, and that is noble in Rosalind, for she was the -wronged one in the beginning.” - -But the beautiful young wife, who looked so gentle and spoke so softly, -could be spirited enough when she chose, and she tossed her head -proudly and cried, with flashing eyes and crimson cheeks: - -“I will never be friends with cruel Rosalind, never! Oh, take her away -from here, I beseech you, and leave me alone with my Charley, in peace -and safety. You may all go with her if you wish, only send her away, -for I cannot know a moment’s peace under the same roof with Rosalind!” - -Lucile whispered to her sister: “It is pure jealousy, nothing else--and -how silly in Berenice to fear that Rosalind wants to steal Charley’s -heart away!” - -“Tell her the truth, and she will get over it,” was the answer. - -And so they broke it to Berenice that they had been talking over -matters with their father, explaining Rosalind’s wishes, and he had -agreed to marry her quietly to-morrow, to silence the tongue of gossip -that might babble because she had come alone to him across the sea. - -Berenice was almost petrified with astonishment at the unexpected news. - -“Oh, it is horrible to think of!” she cried vehemently. “Must this -terrible sacrifice go on? Will no one save the victim?” - -The sisters began to feel very angry with Berenice, she was so -stubborn, so unjust to Rosalind. - -It was no use arguing with her, she would not listen to reason. They -decided to appeal the case to their father. - -They told him all Berenice’s resentment, all her hatred of Rosalind, -whom she had already wronged so deeply, and they told him it was -his duty to lecture the unreasonable young wife and compass her -reconciliation with Rosalind. - -“For if Rosalind is willing to forgive her, Berenice ought to be -thankful to be forgiven,” they said, very pertinently, and indeed it -seemed that way. - -So Senator Bonair himself went to argue the case with his -daughter-in-law, which he did with all the eloquence at his command, -since it was the dearest wish of his warm heart to have all his family -on friendly terms. - -Berenice listened with downcast eyes and heaving breast to every word, -for she knew she was being blamed for causeless resentment. - -They thought Charley was asleep in so deep a stupor he comprehended -nothing, but suddenly he opened his eyes full upon them with the clear -light of reason shining through. - -“Oh, Charley, do you know us? Have we disturbed you?” sobbed Berenice. -And he answered weakly: - -“I have been hearing and understanding all you and father said, and I -think you are in the wrong, my darling.” - -“In the wrong?” she panted. - -“Yes, all in the wrong. If Rosalind wants to be friends with us, let us -yield for father’s sake, because it will make him happier.” - -Berenice slipped her cold hand in his and looked up wistfully at her -father-in-law, saying: - -“Do you then love Rosalind so very much?” - -For a moment the senator hesitated, then he answered frankly: - -“I have never pretended to love Rosalind, but I esteem and admire her -very much, so that I am willing to marry her, to atone for Charley’s -desertion.” - -“Then we should all make sacrifices to that end,” she murmured rather -bitterly. - -“Yes, I think we should,” the senator replied, out of his high code of -honor, though his heart was heavy in his breast with thoughts of the -wedding to-morrow. - -Charley pressed the cold little hand that nestled in his and faltered -weakly: - -“I agree with father, Berenice. We should be friends with his future -wife.” - -“Oh, Charley, you would not ask me if you knew all!” she sobbed, then -suddenly: - -“Forgive me, for we have wronged Rosalind so much that we cannot sit in -judgment on her sins. Yes, yes, I will bury my resentment, I will be -friends for your sakes, not for hers.” - -They were glad of even that concession, and Senator Bonair hastened to -say that he would like to bring Rosalind in and have the greeting over, -that is, if it would not agitate Charley too much. - -Charley faintly protested that he should not mind at all. - -So presently the smiling beauty was ushered in to where Berenice sat -stroking Charley’s thin hand so tenderly in hers, and though the sight -almost drove her wild with anger, she kept her cool, set smile, and -spoke calmly, with friendly words of greeting, though the hand she -touched to theirs was so cold it made them shudder. - -“I am intruding only for a moment,” she smiled, and quickly withdrew -on the senator’s arm, while Charley dropped asleep again, and Berenice -sobbed to herself in silent grief: - -“Oh, my secret, my bitter secret I have kept so long, would that I -could forget it now!” - -The day waned to a close, the purple gloaming fell, and the nurse who -had had a day off for rest, now came in, saying: - -“You have been in so closely all day you must go out into the fresh air -and rest a while. I will watch your husband carefully.” - -She wondered why Berenice caught her hand so tightly, whispering -passionately: - -“I will not go until you promise to remain closely by the bed and not -to trust him to any other, not even his father and sisters, till I -return.” - -“I promise faithfully, madam,” returned the nurse. - -“That is well,” said Berenice briefly, and she slipped out into the -fragrant, balmy gloaming, with a sense of relief in the perfect -solitude. - -She walked down the quiet country road a little way, drawing back into -the shadows as a man passed her on his way toward the cottage, reining -his horse up there a little later, as she saw to her intense surprise. -For a moment, in one hurried glance, she thought she recognized this -man. Was he, could he possibly be Adrian Vance, her own mother’s -prodigal son, by a former marriage? Ah, no! it was impossible that -Adrian should appear on the scene, now, after all these years of -absence, during which he had never seen or written to his mother. - -“I must not go any farther,” she said, pausing suddenly and sitting -down beneath a low-spreading tree, the center of a thick undergrowth -of shrubbery. “I will sit here and think over my troubles a while, for -my heart misgives me I am not doing right to hold my peace and let -Charley’s noble father marry wicked Rosalind. She does not love him, I -am sure, and--ah, there are voices. Some one is passing; I hope I shall -not be seen.” - -She drew back and almost held her breath, seeing through the dark -branches that a man and woman were walking together toward her retreat. -She started in wonder when she saw that it was Rosalind and the man she -had seen on horseback. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. A STOLEN INTERVIEW. - - -“I must not go any farther, and I cannot stay out long, for I must not -be missed. Let us stop here under the trees and talk a little while, -but it was wrong and foolish for you to come, Adrian,” said Rosalind. - -“But I could not stay away. I love you too well!” cried the passionate -lover, and before she could reply, he continued: - -“I was wild to see you and to hear how old Moneybags, as you call him, -looks since he had the smallpox. I am hoping he is so badly pitted and -ugly that you are disgusted and ready to throw him over.” - -Berenice held her breath; she knew it was wrong to listen, but -curiosity got the better of courtesy. - -“He is homely enough, I assure you, to disgust any squeamish person,” -answered Rosalind, with a laugh, “but I would marry him if he were the -Old Boy himself, with all that money.” - -“How I hate him and envy him!” complained the man bitterly. “If I had -only half that money, would you marry me?” - -“Yes, for only half of it, and be thankful!” cried Rosalind. “For, -after all, I shall not get more than half, anyway. There are his two -daughters to inherit, and, besides, he has made up with Charley; and -unless I play my cards very cleverly he will revoke that disinheritance -and leave him a million or so, very likely.” - -“But I thought his son was going to die?” - -“Nothing of the kind. He is recovering very fast, and so is his wife, -the low actress, and they think I have forgiven them and will have them -whining around me after I marry the father. But nothing of the kind, I -can assure you, for I have sworn they shall never cross the senator’s -threshold when once it is mine.” - -“It is hard lines on you, Rosalind, after thinking them both dead.” - -“Yes, is it not? I am almost tempted to give him an overdose of -something when no one is looking. It would soon finish him in his weak -state, eh?” - -It almost seemed to Berenice that the man’s shuddering shook the -branches where he leaned, or was it only a light wind? - -He said quickly: - -“Ugh! Rosalind, you make me shudder, you say jesting things so -seriously. No, don’t poison the poor fellow. Murder will out, you know. -Oh, I say, darling, cut it all and come away with me and be married in -Paris. We love each other, and we can be happy somehow. As for money, -there’s the gambling table. I never told you I broke the bank at Monte -Carlo once. I did, and I can do it again.” - -“You’ve been over all that before, Adrian, to no good. Why repeat it? -I love you as well as I once loved Charley, but I will never marry any -but a rich man, I swear. But I have promised you, and I mean it, that -you shall be my true lover, while old Moneybags lives, and when he -dies, my second husband,” Rosalind answered frankly, and the man sighed: - -“Do you think he will live long, Rosalind?” - -“No, not very long, my own Adrian, for there are many easy ways to -hurry an old man into his grave. But it is too soon to talk of that, -now. Wait till I’m safely his wife and get his will made in my favor, -then you and I can plot the finish, see?” - -“Yes, I see, and I am with you to the end--and afterward. Ah, Rosalind, -what a woman you are! If you did not love me I should be afraid of -you!” Adrian Vance muttered huskily. - -Rosalind gave one of her harsh, grating laughs, and said: - -“Love can turn to hate.” - -“You mean that I should beware of you. But I cannot, my queen, for I -worship you. And--and--I shall be so jealous of that old man when he -owns you that I shall be tempted to thrust a knife into his heart!” - -“Pray don’t, Adrian! Poison in his winecup would be safer, you know. -But I must leave you, for I have much to do. I am to be married -to-morrow.” - -“Heavens--to-morrow!” gasped her lover wildly, jealously. - -She answered lightly: - -“To-morrow, for the senator proposed it and insists upon it.” - -“Ah! how shall I bear my jealous agony? One kiss, Rosalind!” - -Berenice turned hot and cold, hearing repeated kisses and ardent -caresses that made the leaves rustle as they leaned against them, then -they sprang apart. - -“We must go back, Adrian; I really cannot stay another minute. Do not -grieve so. You will not be banished, you know. I shall soon introduce -you as a friend of the family. Ha! ha!” - -They passed out of sight, still talking, leaving Berenice crouched -beneath the tree, with hot cheeks and a wildly beating heart. - -Suddenly she got upon her knees on the dewy grass and lifted her wide, -horrified dark eyes to the heavens, where myriad stars began to sparkle -through the blue. - -With clasped hands she prayed piteously: - -“Oh, what shall I do? Can I let this fiend impose on this good, -honorable old man and shame the name he will give her by a liaison with -this unworthy lover, who will help her to murder him at last for his -money? Oh, it is too horrible that I should keep her terrible secrets -and let the sacrifice go on! I must save him, I must expose her in all -her hideous depravity to those who love and trust her now. Oh, show me -the way, show me the way to-morrow, to unmask this fiend!” - - - - -CHAPTER XL. THE WEDDING DAY. - - -Berenice was walking past the open door of the sitting room, when Marie -called to her kindly: - -“Come in, you dear, pale little ghost, and help us to plan for the -wedding this evening.” - -Berenice’s heart gave a wild, startled leap as she obeyed. - -They were all there together, the sisters with their husbands, the -senator and Rosalind, all planning for the wedding that Berenice knew -must never be. - -The senator placed a chair for her and started when he saw her pallid -face with the dark circles around the heavy eyes. Even her little hands -were trembling with terrible agitation. - -“Really, Berenice, you look ill this morning. Did you have a bad night, -dear?” Lucile asked, with affectionate interest. - -“Yes, I had a very bad night. I could not sleep. Something troubled my -mind,” she faltered. - -“You must learn not to take your troubles to bed with you, child,” -declared Marie; “it’s the worst plan in the world. But stay with us and -we will divert you, talking about the wedding. Do you think this room -will do, if we order some flowers? It is very small, to be sure, but -there will be no invited guests. Poor Rosalind has not even a wedding -gown of white, except an old torn lace robe that she brought in her -dressing bag with her, to see if the clever lacemakers of France could -mend it.” - -“Yes, it is a priceless, real lace gown,” explained Rosalind, “that I -wore at a ball at Bonair one night, and some clumsy partner of mine -must have put his foot through the edge of the flounce and torn it, -for there’s a piece as large as your hand torn out and missing, though -the servants searched the ballroom carefully for it next morning. You -remember the very night, Berry,” graciously, “for you played on the -Bonair stage that night in ‘A Wayside Flower.’” - -Berenice parted her dry lips with a sort of gasp, and murmured, in -husky tones: - -“Oh, yes, I should remember it, I think, for it was on that same night -the disguised fortune teller, my secret enemy, tried to murder me by -pushing me into the bear pit, hoping Zilla would kill me in her rage -over being disturbed with her young.” - -“Oh, that terrible night; don’t recall it!” shuddered Rosalind, adding, -to change the subject: “My misfortune with my costly lace gown was as -nothing compared to your dreadful accident.” - -Berenice smiled strangely, for all at once there had come to her the -answer to her prayer of last night to be shown some way to bring her -enemy to confusion. - -She forced herself to look at Rosalind, courteously, but feeling all -the while like a traitor, as she said: - -“But cannot the gown be patched up for the ceremony, some way, with a -scrap of lace? I think I might help you, as I have some fine lace, and -am rather skillful with the needle. Will you show it to me?” - -“Willingly!” cried Rosalind, falling into the trap, and hastening to -secure the gown that was folded away in a dressing bag she had brought. - -She came back and unfolded the tissue wrappers and spread the lovely -web of lace open before their eyes. - -There, in the front flounce, was the great tear, as big as your hand, -marring all its beauty. Every one began to exclaim over it in sympathy -with Rosalind. - -“Now, a needle and some very fine thread, please,” said trembling -Berenice, and when they were supplied she opened a large gold locket on -her bosom and drew from it a little wad of lace that when fitted into -the torn flounce matched the pattern perfectly. - -Several voices cried, in unison: - -“The missing piece of lace--how wonderful!” - -“You found it!” cried Rosalind, in amazement. “But where?” - -But even as she spoke she turned slightly pale, and added: - -“Oh, it doesn’t matter where it was found so that I have it back. What -a fuss we are all making over a bit of lace!” - -“You made fuss enough yourself when it was lost at Bonair!” cried -Marie, sharply, while they all fell to watching Berenice, who was -putting in the torn lace with neat little stitches, though her hands -shook sadly, so that she said: - -“I am making a poor job of it, Miss Montague, but you can get a real -lace maker to do it over again for you. You see, it makes me so nervous -just thinking of the night when I found this scrap of lace, and of all -I suffered afterward.” - -“Try not to think of it at all,” soothingly said Rosalind, but Berenice -raised her dark eyes, swimming in tears, and murmured: - -“I must think of it, for it is my duty to tell everything I know about -that night.” - -“Go on, I am sure it will be very interesting,” exclaimed Clarence -Carlisle, Marie’s husband. - -“I needn’t tell about that night when I was pushed into the bear pit,” -continued Berenice, “for all that are here have heard the story over -and over, but some things that I never told before I mean to betray -now, and one is that the pretended Indian seeress was no Indian at all, -but a disguised and jealous enemy of mine, who desired to compass my -death. I am sure of it, for in our struggle on the edge of the pit the -woman uttered some angry words, in her own voice, which I instantly -recognized. Then I clutched at her, and as I fell I knew I had -something clutched in my frantic grasp that I had torn from her gown. -It was this piece of lace that Mrs. Cline, simple soul, not dreaming -of the mute witness it bore against my would-be murderer, disentangled -from my unconscious fingers and kept for me. But it did not need this -mute witness for me, for as I fell I saw my enemy’s face and heard her -taunting voice, and I knew you, Miss Montague, for what you were, a -guilty sinner, wreaking a terrible revenge on a hapless rival. Then -when Charley sprang down to my rescue, you flew back and tried to -destroy him also by a cowardly bullet, for the Clines saw the white -figure running away from the scene of the double crime.” - -She heard low, startled cries all around her, and lifting her accusing -eyes she looked at Rosalind. - -Out of her dead-white face her blue eyes glared like two points of -steel, with murder in their gleam, and from between her stiff, white -lips came bleakly: - -“You lie! Had this charge been true, you would have told the secret -long ago.” - -Berenice, paling, trembling, continued: - -“You are mistaken, for an impulse of generous pity -made me keep your hideous secret locked fast in my own -breast, until now. I never meant to speak until--last -night--when--I--heard--you--with--your--lover--beneath--the trees!” - -“Liar! Viper! Oh, let me tear her false tongue from her lips!” snarled -Rosalind, but strong hands pinioned her and held her back, that -Berenice might finish speaking. - -She turned her dark, solemn, truthful eyes upon her father-in-law. - -“Last night the nurse sent me out for a breath of fresh air, and while -I rested under the trees a man passed by on horseback and reined up -before the cottage gate. He came back presently with Rosalind, and -not dreaming of my presence they talked over their terrible secrets -together. Those two lovers, Senator Bonair, ridiculed you, laughed at -you as old Moneybags, plotted to remain lovers after her marriage to -you, and to make way with you as quickly as possible that she might -take him for a second husband. Then they sealed their terrible bargain -with a hundred kisses and caresses, and went away, unconscious of a -listener, who, to save you, sir, from their cruel machinations, has -broken the silence of more than a year to warn you of lurking danger, -if you marry Rosalind Montague.” - -The voice ceased and Berenice waited with a beating heart for them all -to denounce her and take Rosalind’s part. - -Then Senator Bonair said dully, as if shocked into apathy: - -“Now, Rosalind, for your defense!” - -She answered, with angry evasion: - -“If you can take that low creature’s word against mine, why need I -attempt a defense?” - -Marie’s husband spoke up quickly: - -“I can corroborate Mrs. Bonair’s word in one thing. Last night I saw -the horseman she spoke of ride up to the gate, saw Miss Montague meet -him and walk away with him. Afterward witnessed their return and -parting, with a kiss. You remember, Dallas, I told you and asked your -advice?” - -“And I counseled secrecy over what seemed the close of perhaps a -harmless flirtation,” Dallas Dreem replied. - -“You should have told us!” pouted the young wives, darting angry -glances at Rosalind, who, seeing the game was all up, cleared her -throat and said angrily, defiantly: - -“Take your hands off me, sirs; I shall not touch the little liar. I am -only going to say that I admit everything, and am only sorry I did not -kill both her and Charley in the bear pit.” - -Her blue eyes blazed fury, and Senator Bonair cried wrathfully: - -“I shall be forever grateful to Berenice for unmasking you and saving -me from a detested marriage. Now go to your lover; we must be rid of -you as soon as possible!” - -“Would you send me away penniless?” cried Rosalind, angry and -humiliated at the utter failure of her schemes. “I sold my jewels to -come to you, and my lover is a poor man!” - -The senator plucked a great roll of bills from his pocket and tossed -them at her feet. - -“There are three thousand dollars. It is the price of never seeing your -face again,” he thundered. “Now go and leave us to the happiness of a -reunited family!” - -She snatched up the money and the lace gown and rushed from the room. -Three days later she and Adrian Vance appeared before Mrs. Brander, in -Paris. - -“We are married and settled in Paris,” she announced calmly. “Old -Moneybags was so homely, with his smallpox scars, that I threw him over -and married my poor, handsome Adrian. I have written to mamma, but I -fear she will never forgive us.” - -Mrs. Brander thought it all very strange, but later on the truth leaked -out, and she knew the false beauty for what she really was--a reckless, -disappointed schemer. - -But Charley Bonair did not learn all that happened until many days -after, when his convalescence was an assured thing and he could hear, -without danger to his health, the happy news that Rosalind had been -banished in disgrace, and that the senator had reinstated him in his -good graces, and given the Washington palace to Berenice as a wedding -gift. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. TROUBLE BEGINS AGAIN. - - -When Charley had fully recovered, he and his lovely young wife decided -to go to England where the first part of their married life had flowed -along on mingled currents of joy and sorrow. They hoped to revisit the -happier scenes; and, moreover, Charley had still another motive in -returning. News had reached Senator Bonair that an old English estate -was for sale; and, in the full tide of rejoicing over his deliverance -from Rosalind, and his pride in his “united family,” he offered to buy -the estate for his son. - -“No, it’s too much for you to do for me, dad!” exclaimed Charley, when -the astounding proposition was made. “I don’t deserve such generosity!” - -“Perhaps not,” was his father’s laconic answer. “But if I’m of the -opinion that you do--well, that should be sufficient. What do _you_ -say, Berry?” - -“Oh, you know I think nothing is too good for Charley!” answered Berry, -with a smile. “But, of course, we both appreciate how dear and generous -you are.” - -“Nonsense!” laughed the senator. “I confess I myself have a desire for -this Erda estate, but, as I have all I can manage, with my duties in -Washington and my country seat in California, I’m quite willing to -buy this estate for Charles, if he wishes to join the ranks of the -American-English ‘landed gentry.’” - -Charles was more than willing, as his father knew. He was also -profoundly grateful for his father’s generosity in making such a gift, -which was all the more impressive as it was destined to be the last. - -Hardly had the negotiations for the sale been completed, and the Erda -estate came into Charles Bonair’s proud possession, when the senator, -whose health had for some time been failing, fell seriously ill. All -that the best English physicians could do proved unavailing; for, after -a brief illness, he died, and was taken to America for burial near his -beautiful California estate. - -When Charles and his wife finally returned to England, after this sad -interruption of their plans, they found surprising news awaiting them -at Crumplesea, a summer resort near Thetford Towers, as the Erda estate -was called. The news was conveyed in a letter from Rosalind, who had -not even had the grace to send condolences to any of the Bonair family. - -It was addressed to Berry, and ran as follows: - - “You may, or may not, be surprised to know that my husband is your - stepbrother, Adrian Vance. He informed me of this fact not long ago, - indeed before we were married, but I found I loved him well enough to - forgive his humble ancestry, even though in marrying him I was forced - to claim kinship with you! We are, therefore, by stretching a point, - sisters-in-law, and it is quite likely that, after all, we may meet - again.” - -“I hope not!” said Berry, after a pause. - -“Amen to that!” answered Charles. “But we seem to be fated to meet that -woman, in one way or another, wherever we go! I wonder how she found -out that we are here?” - -“She must have seen, in the newspapers, notices of the sale of Thetford -Towers.” - -“Of course! And probably she will expect us to ask them to visit us, -in her new capacity as sister-in-law! Oh, she is quite capable of -that! Especially now that father is dead. Well, she will be woefully -disappointed, if _we_ have anything to say about it!” - -Berry smiled. “We may have less to say than we think, dear; the matter -may be taken quite out of our hands by Rosalind herself. I foresee -trouble. Another thing: Adrian is a mere adventurer, a gambler, and if -he married her only for her money, how long do you suppose that will -last?” - -“What a worldly-wise little pessimist you are, dear!” responded -Charles, with a laugh. “Come, tear up this insulting troublesome -letter, and let’s drive over to the Towers. What’s the use of vexing -ourselves with a mere chance that may not occur for a dozen years?” - -This easy-going philosophy proved to be the wrong one, for they heard -again from Rosalind, two years later. This time it was to announce the -birth of a daughter, who was to be named Dora. Why Rosalind had taken -the trouble to send this announcement to the Bonairs, in spite of their -continued indifference to her existence, was not clear to Berry, who -merely remarked: “I suppose she has reasons of her own.” But Charles -saw through this move clearly enough. He readily guessed that Rosalind -and her husband had not given up hope of being received at Thetford -Towers; all the more now, for the sake of their daughter, Berry’s -niece, and also because their fortunes were known to be on the wane. - -His understanding was aided by reports of Adrian’s reckless -speculations which he had heard from time to time, during his -occasional visits in London. - -On one of these occasions, he had, unknown to Berry, received a letter -from Adrian Vance, requesting the loan of a large sum of money with -which to pay several importunate creditors; and he had even gone so -far as to lend Adrian half the amount, hoping thereby to avoid further -difficulties with the Vance family. In this hope he was destined to be -disappointed; for Adrian suddenly appeared at Thetford Towers, early in -the following summer, and sought an interview with Charles and Berry. - -The meeting was not pleasant to any of the three. Charles was -frankly indignant, Berry cool and reserved, Adrian in a tumult of -embarrassment, envy, and resentment. - -“Rosalind is well, I dare say,” he said, in answer to their perfunctory -question. “I’ve not seen her for several months. She’s studying to go -on the stage--you’ll have her again for a rival, Berry, in your former -sphere.” - -The covert insolence of this seemingly playful remark was not lost upon -its hearers, who took no notice of it, however, and soon afterward -managed to bring the interview to a close. Adrian departed, no richer -than he had come. - -Before the end of the summer, he was killed in a railroad accident on -the Continent, and Rosalind, the heiress whom he had reduced to poverty -and driven to the stage, left the country, and was not again seen in -England for many years. When she returned to trouble and harass her -“relatives,” it was in an unexpected and disgraceful way. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. IN NEW GUISE. - - -Years passed, fourteen happy and uneventful years, during most of which -the Bonairs lived quietly on their English estate, among their friends -in England and from America. Charles’ sisters, Lucile and Marie, -with their families, spent alternate summers at Thetford Towers, or -traveling on the Continent, while during the winters the Bonairs fled -to California. - -One day, in early summer, Berry intended to drive over to Crumplesea, -in her motor car, to say good-by to her old friends, the Westons, -who were leaving the next morning. Willis Weston had married a -charming American heiress years ago, and had become one of the leading -dramatists and managers of America. - -Charles was absent from England, at this time, having gone to New York -on business which would detain him there. - -It was a perfect summer day, warm and sunny, and Berry could not help -feeling happy and secure from trouble or harm. But as in every life, -clouds sometimes gather on the horizon and overshadow it for a while; -so now, had she only known it, another storm was impending. - -The first sign thereof was a slight mishap which brought the motor car -to a standstill halfway on the road to Crumplesea. - -Berry, who was somewhat of a fatalist in her way, always declared that -the thing was foreordained. Mellish, chauffeur, simply said--sotto -voce, of course--that it was “cursed bad luck, though no more than he -had expected when Mrs. Bonair would have the car out to-day, after -she’d been told that it ought to be sent to the garage yesterday, and -she might just as well have used the victoria as not.” - -The facts of the case may be related in a few words: The motor car had -come up over the brow of the hill on its way back from Thetford Towers, -and was rolling sedately through the drowsy stillness of Crumplesea, -when a sharp metallic “zing-g-g!” sounded, and off came the tire of -the left forewheel. Crumplesea boasted of three hotels and no end of -“apartments,” but it could only lay claim to one garage, at the other -end of the town, close to where the new hall--dignified by the name -of opera house--had recently been erected. Mellish, who had learned -this fact from the small gathering of idlers which the accident had -collected--and to whom Berry was known, by sight and by name, about as -well as the town clock itself--imparted the knowledge to his mistress, -and was rather surprised that she took it with such equanimity. - -“Very well, send for the man and have the thing set right at once,” -she said. “It is only a step to the Crumplesea Hotel, and I dare say -that Mercy Blint can manage to make me comfortable and get me a cup -of tea while I am waiting. You can come back there for me when the -tire has been put on again. But don’t be any longer than is absolutely -necessary; I want to get home before dark, if possible!” - -And then with the utmost serenity she alighted and walked straightway -to the Crumplesea Hotel, which establishment was run by a woman who had -once been her maid, and who, on the occasion of her marriage with the -under butler, had been pensioned off some years ago. - -Inquiry brought forth the intelligence that Mercy herself was absent -for the day, but Mercy’s husband was there, and himself showed her -ladyship into what was known as the coffee room--every other room in -the house being engaged at the time--and rushed away in person to get -tea for her. - -And here it was that Berry saw another sign of trouble--the glaring, -brightly colored aggressively prominent sign which always made her -think that to-day’s accident had been foreordained. - -It took the shape of a bill announcing the forthcoming opening of -the new Crumplesea Opera House, when--to quote the announcement -verbatim--“Mr. Milton Dante’s celebrated company of London artists -would present the world-famous musical play, ‘The Beauty of Gotham,’ -headed by the gifted and beautiful American actress and prima donna, -Miss Rosalind Montague-Vance.” - -A slow pallor, creeping like a snail, came steadily down over Berry’s -face as she saw that bill. She stood for a long time looking fixedly at -the printed words and not saying one word, not making one sound. - -So she was still standing when, some twenty minutes later, her tea was -brought into her by the obsequious Blint himself. - -She sat down and drank the tea and ate the buttered toast she had -ordered, and then rang the bell and called the man back to the room. - -“Blint,” she said, pointing to the bill hanging upon the wall, “have -those people come to Crumplesea as yet? I see they are advertised to -open the new hall next Thursday. Have they come here yet?” - -“No, my lady, not yet, of course; it’s best part of a week until -Thursday. The advance agent will be here to-morrow, though, to make -arrangements for rooms and the like. Hamer--him as runs the Cliff -Hotel, as you may remember, seeing that he’s a tenant of yours--got -word to that effect this afternoon, and come over to see if I’d any -rooms vacant; him not being able to put up the whole party.” - -Berry pushed back her empty teacup, and rose. - -“See that they don’t get any, then,” she said, in a singularly dry -voice. “See that every room in every hotel in the place is engaged for -me. I don’t care what it costs, I want them all. Engage them for me.” - -“I beg pardon, ma’am, but--but can you really mean it?” - -“Am I in the habit of saying things that I do not mean? I see that -they are billed to appear for three nights. Take all the vacant rooms -in all the hotels for that period, in my name. Shut them out of every -accommodation and force them to go elsewhere, if you can, and that -woman, above all!” - -The man gave a nervous start and looked as though he had received a -shock. - -“My lady!” he said, with a frightened look. “Heaven preserve us! it’s -not her? It’s never the--the Yankee woman who married your--your -brother, Mr. Vance?” - -“Yes, it is. I never want to see her, but I recognize the name; as -Mercy would have done, had she been at home. Now go and do what I have -told you, and see that the woman finds no place to stop here. If you -think the manager of the hall can be bought to cancel the engagement of -the company----” - -“It is not possible, my lady; the thing was arranged months ago.” - -“So much the worse for me, then. However, I’ll do what I can. Go and -engage every vacant room you can hear of, and go at once, please.” - -Blint, in a state of shaking nervousness, flew to obey, and when, half -an hour afterward, he came back to announce that he had done as he -had been bidden, he found the repaired motor car at the door and her -ladyship sitting in it. - -“Thank you,” she said, as Blint came back with the list of the rooms he -had engaged in her name. “Reckon up the sum total and I will send you a -check for the amount. Home, Mellish.” - -And then the motor car swung out into the roadway and rolled off -through the fast deepening Kentish dusk. - -And this was how it was that when Mr. Milton Dante’s advance agent came -down to Crumplesea to arrange accommodations for the company, he found -every available inch of room in the several hotels engaged for a week -to come. - -“Company’ll have to go into apartments, that’s all,” he said, in -his airy, offhand way to Mr. Bodwin, the proprietor and manager of -the newly erected Crumplesea Opera House. “Dante won’t like that, -of course, for he’s struck a rich thing in getting the provincial -rights to the ‘Beauty of Gotham,’ and he’s putting on no end of -side, and insisting on all the members of the company putting up at -hotels, instead of lodging houses and the like. It’s hard on some -of ’em--especially the low-salaried ‘utility people’--but he’s in a -position to dictate, and it’s that or nothing for most of ’em, poor -devils! I dare say there’ll be many of ’em who’ll be as pleased as -Punch over the mishap; but if the Montague doesn’t raise the roof, when -she learns that she will have to go into apartments, you can write me -down as an ass.” - -“Dear me! is she a very violent person, then?” queried the manager -apprehensively. “We are a very circumspect people here in Crumplesea, -Mr. Billet, although the place is gaining renown as a seaside resort, -and you quite alarm me with these hints.” - -“Oh, don’t let that worry you. She won’t be in the town twenty-four -hours before every man in it is gone on her and willing to swear that -she’s the sweetest thing that ever happened. If ever she manages to get -a hearing in London--and she will yet; she’s not the kind of woman to -be kept in the provinces forever--somebody’s title will come her way, -I warrant you. And it won’t be a mere empty title, either; it will be -one well backed up with capital--trust her for that! She’s a highflyer, -and she comes from a country where they know how to get full value for -everything. Wait till she gets to London, that’s all. She’s not too old -to hook a fish worth landing, even yet.” - -“How old is she, Mr. Billet?” - -“Ask me something easier! On the stage she looks about twenty, on the -street about--oh, well, I’m too old a hand at this business to be -caught belying the posters,” returned Mr. Billet, with a laugh and a -wink. “But look here; draw your own conclusions. She owns up to five -and twenty, and when a woman does that--especially a woman in the -theatrical profession--you can safely add anything from five to ten -to her figures, and not feel that you are doing her any injustice. -Now then, show me the way to the post office, will you? I want to -send a wire to Dante to prepare him for this little muddle about the -accommodations; and, look here, Mr. Bodwin! take a fool’s advice and -don’t you waste your time in going off your head over fair Rosalind -when you see her--though, I dare say, you will, for all that; she seems -born to make men do it wherever she goes--but just remember that you -haven’t the ghost of a chance; and wouldn’t have if you owned all -Crumplesea. Remember, I have warned you.” - -“Thank you, but it is useless warning. I am already a married man.” - -Mr. Billet looked up into his face, and laughed. - -“So was Anthony,” he said. “Now come and show me the way to the post -office.” - - * * * * * - -The curtain had fallen upon the close of the second act of “The Beauty -of Gotham,” and Miss Montague-Vance had disappeared for the nonce from -the enraptured gaze of Oakhampton--it was at the Oakhampton Theater -that the company was appearing to-night--when Mr. Milton Dante--his -baptismal certificate read “Peter Burridge,” by the way--came round -behind the scenes in a state of angry excitement and rapped loudly upon -Miss Montague-Vance’s dressing-room door. - -“It’s me--Milt,” he said, in the quiet original grammar of his native -Battersea. “I’ve got something to show you. Can I come in?” - -“No. If it’s anything important, just wait five minutes and I’ll be -out.” - -The five minutes passed and the door opened, and out of it issued a -creature so lovely, that even Mr. Milton Dante--who ought by this time -to be used to it, Heaven knows--felt a little thrill as the vision -dawned upon him. - -“Scotland! but you do look scrummy to-night!” he said admiringly. - -“Never mind how I look,” returned “the vision,” with an exceedingly -earthy air. “You didn’t come here to pay me silly compliments, I fancy; -or if you did, you are wasting your time and mine, to no purpose. What -is it you want to say to me? Is it anything nice, or the reverse?” - -“The reverse, I’m afraid. Our next ‘stand’ is Crumplesea, and the -company will have to go into apartments when we get there.” - -“Oh! no, it won’t; at least I won’t. None of your seaside apartments -for me, if you please! Let others do what they like--or what you like; -I suppose it amounts to that--but I want the best hotel in the place.” - -“Well, I’m afraid we can’t get in. Billet has just wired me that every -hotel in the place is engaged by some old fool of a woman called Mrs. -Bonair, and that--I say! great Scott! are you ill? Thunder! you’re as -white as a ghost.” - -“Never mind what I am or what I am not,” she answered, in a singularly -hard and singularly uneven voice. “So that woman has heard of my -coming and has tried like this to shut me out, has she?” - -“What woman? What the dickens are you talking about? And I say, -whatever has come over you? I expected you to raise the roof and to shy -things when you heard of this, and I’m blessed if you’re not taking it -as meek as Moses.” - -“No, not quite so meek--as you will learn before this affair is over. -So that woman is going to try to shut me out, is she? Well, it will -be a bad day’s work for her--I promise you that. I would have let her -alone if she had been sensible and let me alone. But she chooses to -show her claws, and so I’ll show mine.” - -“Who the dickens are you talking about?” - -“About this woman, this Mrs. Bonair, who is going to try the trick of -shutting me out of Crumplesea.” - -“Great Scott! do you know her?” - -“Oh, yes, I know her--and what’s more, she shall know me in a few days, -and better than she ever knew me before in her life. Look here, here’s -something for you to know about me as well--I’ve a daughter.” - -“You?” - -“Yes. You’ve often wondered where I sent so much of my salary, and now -you know. I’ve a daughter who’s nearly sixteen years old.” - -“The dickens you say! It can’t be true.” - -“Oh, yes, and what’s more, it is. She’s at school, and I haven’t seen -her--no, and haven’t wanted to, either--since she was old enough to -walk alone. I’m going to see her now, however, and Mrs. Bonair is going -to see her, too--see her and hear of her for the first time. Shut me -out, will she? Show her claws like that, eh, after I’ve let her alone -for all these years? Well, if ever--get out of the way, for goodness’ -sake! That’s the curtain bell, and that little beast of a call boy -never notified me that it was time to begin.” - -And then, without another word, she turned and ran up the stairs to the -stage as fast as her little satin-shod feet could go. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. AT SCHOOL. - - -“Fifteen, love,” said Dora mechanically, as she jotted down the score. -“No, I beg pardon, it isn’t; it’s fifteen all.” - -“Nothing of the sort,” snapped her pet aversion, Gwen Morley, turning -on her with a flash of angry resentment. “You’re not paying attention. -It’s thirty, fifteen; that last ball was a fault, if it’s all the same -to you, Miss Vance, and our side had scored a point before that. It’s -thirty, fifteen, if you please.” - -“Oh, very well,” said Dora--she made a point of never bandying words -with Gwen Morley. “If it is thirty, fifteen, I’ll set it down that way. -No doubt I made a mistake; my head aches. Go on with the game, please, -and I will try to keep the score properly--if I can.” - -“If you can? Well, I like that! What are you here for? I don’t suppose -Miss Skimmers sent you out here to twiddle your thumbs and look at the -sky, although that’s about all you have done since we started playing. -If you can’t keep the score correctly, say so, and we’ll get some other -gifted and condescending pupil teacher to do it for you.” - -Dora swallowed the affront with no more outward show of her feelings -than a slight heightening of her color, and presently the white balls -were skimming over the tennis net and flying through the hot, still air -again. - -But if she said nothing, she thought a great deal, and the term “pupil -teacher” rankled, though why it should have done so--unless it was -because of the sneering tone in which it had been spoken--she could not -tell. For a pupil teacher she undoubtedly was, and had been for this -many a long day. - -“It is your mother’s desire that, as she cannot afford to give you -the full advantages enjoyed by more fortunate pupils, you should do -something yourself to assist in paying for your education,” explained -Miss Skimmers, with something of a sneer, when Dora was old enough and -advanced enough to enter upon this stage of her existence. “You will -divide your time in future between receiving lessons and in imparting -them. You are quite advanced enough now to teach the little children of -the third form, and I will write and tell your mother so.” - -“Oh, yes, do, please,” Dora had said, when she was told this. “If my -mother is poor, Miss Skimmers--and I suppose from what you say, she -must be--I don’t want to be a drag on her, and I should like very -much to do something to help pay for my education. But what is my -mother? You see, I was such a little thing when I first came here that -I don’t remember living anywhere else or belonging to any one else, -and I thought--oh, Miss Skimmers, I didn’t know until this minute that -I belonged to anybody or had a single relation in the world. But a -mother! How delightful! Have I a father, too?” - -“No; I was told that your mother was a widow when you were brought to -me; a widow in good circumstances was how the man--he claimed to be her -solicitor--who brought you here put it, and I was not undeceived until -a year later, when she wrote me to the contrary, and said that, when -you were old enough, she desired you to do something toward reducing -the expenses of your education.” - -Casting back her memory, when she heard this, Dora could readily guess -when that time was; for she had a distinct recollection of coming -suddenly--and for some reason unexplained at the time--down from the -giddy eminence of “show pupil,” who was trotted out to be exhibited -whenever a possible new client made his or her appearance, to the -undignified position of something that ought to be--and was--kept in -the background and translated from the splendors of a bedroom on the -first floor to one that had broken furniture and discolored walls and -nothing but a thin layer of leaky slates between it and heaven. She -had suffered in that upper-story bedroom--suffered agonies of heat -in summer and tortures of cold in winter, and the dread of scurrying -plaster-disturbing rats at all seasons, whether hot or cold--but it all -sank into insignificance now before the glory of having a mother. - -“Who is my mother?” she asked of Miss Skimmers, in the gladness of her -heart and the joy of finding that she possessed such a glorious thing. -“Where is she? What is she? Oh, tell me, please.” - -“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Miss Skimmers answered, as she shrugged -her shoulders and walked away. “All my dealings with her have been -through a third party. But she is evidently not a person of my class or -the class and standing of my other patrons.” - -And considering that Miss Skimmers’ parents had been in the -green-grocer line, and that her pupils were the daughters of successful -drapers, butchers, milliners, and publicans, Dora was rather glad to -hear it. - -In some strange indefinable way she felt herself of a different clay -from the rest of Miss Skimmers’ pupils, and held herself aloof from -them. And they felt it, too, and hated her for it, hardly knowing -why--only that she always reminded them of a rose in a bed of -dandelions, and, try as they would to remember that the dandelions -were gifted with the hue of gold, they could not forget that they were -little, undersized, glaring, stiff-stalked, piggish, close-to-the-earth -things and that the rose was always the rose, and that it was nature’s -law that it should hold its head above them and be a nobler flower than -they. - -For a time, the knowledge that she had a mother somewhere in the world -filled Dora with a sense of a joy that was sufficient in itself, and -she used to lie awake nights and dream of the time when that wonderful -mother would come and take her away, or perhaps call in the mid-term -just to see her, as the other girls’ mothers sometimes did. But as the -weeks and the months and the years rolled by and brought no realization -of the dream, it died slowly down into the dead level of her daily life -and was forgotten entirely--or if not actually forgotten, at least -laid away, as children lay away the fables and the fairy tales of the -nursery when they have grown too old to believe in them as possible -things. - -“There wasn’t any truth in it; it was all a ‘make-believe’ of Miss -Skimmers, and I haven’t any mother at all,” she said to herself -whenever the phantom of that dead hope came back to haunt her. “If -I had, she would not have left me so utterly alone for all these -years--it isn’t human. She will never come--I know it now--because she -doesn’t exist. I seem fated to pass my life enduring the cold insolence -of brewers’ daughters, like Gwen Morley, and the sneers of people like -Miss Skimmers. I won’t, however. I’ll get out of it all, as soon as I -am old enough to go away, and I’ll earn my living and make a place for -myself in the world, somehow.” - -That had been her determination months and months ago, she was thinking -of it now as she sat, a dreary, shabby, spiritless figure, in the -grounds of Miss Skimmers’ “School for Young Ladies,” and watched the -tennis balls fly to and fro through the hot, still air of the summer -afternoon. - -The hot sun beating down upon her made her head ache, and the glare -of the white dresses of the tennis players hurt her eyes; even the -whistling of a thrush in a near-by tree seemed to irritate her to-day, -and the loud laughter of the girls was positively maddening. But she -kept on with the distasteful task of umpiring the match, and said never -a word, until suddenly a shadow lengthened across the grass, fell upon -her score book, and made her look up. Then she saw that one of the -housemaids was standing beside her, and became conscious that the girl -was saying something to her. - -“You will have to get some one else to umpire for a time,” she said, as -she rose from her seat and laid the score book down beside Gwen Morley. -“Miss Skimmers has sent word that she wants to see me at once.” - -She was unspeakably glad to get out of the heat and the blinding glare -of the sun, and she walked away instantly, going straight to the -cool, shadowy, little room where Miss Skimmers passed her hours of -relaxation, and where the maid had told her that lady was waiting for -her. - -She opened the door and walked in--wondering the while what she was -going to be taken to task for now; a summons to Miss Skimmers’ presence -usually meaning that. She was not at all surprised when she beheld that -large plethoric female pacing the room in a state of violent excitement -and wheezing like an asthmatical dragon. - -“Shameful, I call it, Miss Vance!” she blurted out, without any -preface, as Dora came into the room. “After all the sacrifices I have -made for you, after all the consideration I have shown you both! And in -the middle of the term, too, without a word of notice or a chance to -supply the vacancy”--her voice rising to a sort of shriek, as she flung -her unwieldy body about the room. “Shameful, I call it; outrageous, I -call it, and wanting in all respect, all decency, all consideration for -me.” - -“If you will tell me what all this is the prelude to, Miss Skimmers, -perhaps I shall be able to understand what you mean,” said Dora, in -that calm, low, reposeful voice, which was one of nature’s birth gifts -to her, and which even fourteen years in the Skimmers’ establishment -had not been able to destroy. “Will you tell me, please, what has -happened and let me draw my own conclusions with regard to what you are -pleased to term the ‘shamefulness’ of it; I suppose it has something to -do with me, or you would not have sent for me.” - -“It has everything to do with you,” cried Miss Skimmers, in what Dora, -in unholy moments of secret mirth, was wont to call her “here’s your -fine cauliflowers and nice fresh radishes” voice. “It has everything to -do with you and with that inconsiderate person, your mother.” - -“My mother? Let us leave that phantom out of the matter, Miss Skimmers. -I am eighteen years of age--or I shall be in a month--and it is hardly -complimentary to my intelligence to expect me to have faith in fairy -tales now.” - -“I don’t know what you mean,” said Miss Skimmers. “You were always a -queer girl, and I never could understand you. I dare say that your -mother is like you, or she wouldn’t be treating me in this shameful -way and sending for you in the middle of the term and not giving me a -moment’s notice to get some one to fill your place.” - -Dora’s head swam and she staggered a little as though the heat had -overcome her. - -“My mother,” she said faintly. “You say that my mother has sent -for--oh, Miss Skimmers, are you losing your senses or am I? My mother? -Mine? She exists? And has sent for me? Oh, Miss Skimmers, is it really -true?” - -“Yes, it is; and very uncommon shabby of her I call it, too--sending -for you like this, and not giving me time to fill your place. Here’s -her letter, if you want to see it. She’s stopping at a place called -Minorca Villa, in Crumplesea, on the Kentish coast, and she writes -that you’re to go to her there at once, and not to delay a moment in -starting. And here’s a five-pound note she inclosed for you to get a -new frock and to pay your railway ticket, and here’s a card, too, with -the address on it, ‘Minorca Villa, Nightingale Road, Crumplesea, Kent.’” - -Dora took both the letter and the card, read each--in a state of -blissful excitement--and then took possession of the five-pound note. - -“To think of my mother being a really existing person!” she said, with -a happy little laugh. “Oh, Miss Skimmers, I can scarcely believe it. I -shall go at once, at once.” - -She was as good as her word. Within the space of half an hour, she -had packed her small belongings into a shabby valise--a relic of -her “first-floor” days--sent them over to the railway station by a -housemaid, said good-by to the house cat, her only friend and companion -in the dreary days she was leaving behind her, and had shaken the dust -of the Skimmers’ establishment from her feet forever. - -The day no longer seemed hot and suffocating, and the sun no longer -hurt her eyes as she walked down the dusty, glaring, treeless road to -the railway station--she was going to her mother, that poor, sorely -tried, wonderful mother, who was an existent, after all, and whose -poverty had kept them so long apart. For by some strange process of -reasoning which was not compatible with the facts of the case, she had -arrived at the conclusion that poverty was the sole explanation of her -mother’s long neglect of her. - -“Poor little mother!” she thought, as she hurried out; “it took all -she could spare to pay for my education, of course, and she could not -afford to waste money in coming to see me. What a dear she is to -have done so much! But never mind, I’ll make it all up to you, and -there will be two now to fight the battle, and as the proverb says, -‘Many hands make light work.’ I can teach music, and no end of things, -and--you’ll see!--it won’t be long before I find pupils and am in -a position to give you a nice little home and at least some of the -comforts a lady should have.” - -For, of course, her mother was a lady; there could be no possible -doubt of that, considering that in the old days she had had her -affairs attended to by a family solicitor and was spoken of as a -person of considerable importance--a lady in reduced circumstances, it -is true, but still a lady. In her mind’s eye, Dora could almost see -her already--a sweet-faced, sweet-voiced motherly old lady with gray -hair and mild eyes; a dear, soft-treading, soft-speaking, gentle old -darling, with a tiny white cap on her head and such beautiful shapely -old hands. - -“How I shall love her; how I shall love her!” said the girl, with a -little rush of happy tears; then she laughed aloud in her happiness, -and, catching sight of the station at last, quickened her steps, until -she was almost running when she finally entered it. Going up to the -ticket office, she purchased her ticket. - -“Have to change at Morecome Junction,” said the clerk, in answer to her -query; “and if you catch the connection, you ought to be at Crumplesea -about six-forty. If you miss it, you’ll have to stop at Morecome the -night; there’s no other trains to Crumplesea until the morning. Train -for Morecome’s coming in now. - -“Number four platform--and you’ll have to step lively if you want to -catch it.” - -“Thank you,” said Dora, as she gathered up her ticket and the change. -In another moment, she was flying down the stairs to the train and to -the beginning of the strange new life that lay before her. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. THE MEETING. - - -For once, in a way, fortune favored Dora. She managed to catch the -connecting train at Morecome Junction, and, as a consequence, arrived -at Crumplesea--tired and dusty, but still full of enthusiasm--at a -quarter to seven that same evening. - -It was the night of the opening of the Crumplesea Opera House, and -she found the whole town placarded with gaudy posters of “The Beauty -of Gotham”--glaring, highly colored things, depicting women with -impossible tresses of an impossible shade of yellow, frisking about in -skirts above their knees. - -But in that first glance she had seen the name, “Miss Rosalind -Montague-Vance,” emblazoned over the boldest and the most conspicuous -of them all, and she had felt an added shame because of that. - -Not that she had any idea that the bearer of it could be in any way, -even the remotest, connected with herself--for there were hundreds of -“Vances” in the world; even Miss Skimmers having had more than one of -them enrolled among her pupils in Dora’s time--but that the knowledge -of there being a woman bearing a name the same as her own, who could -let her pictures be shown in public, made the shame of it seem a -personal matter. - -“How it must shock poor little mother, if she has seen it, too,” she -said to herself. “Fancy having one’s name flaunted about by a creature -like that, and in the very town where one lives! It must be awful.” - -The change of the five-pound note that had been sent her was still in -her pocket--there had not been time to stop anywhere and buy the new -frock she had been told to do--and hastily summoning a cabman to her -aid, she gave him the necessary directions, and was soon speeding away -to Minorca Villa with her shabby old valise on the top of the vehicle. - -Her destination was a rather shabby little brick house in a side -street--there were such things as “apartments” to be had in Crumplesea, -and all the available ones were engaged for Mr. Milton Dante’s -company--and here at this flat-fronted, dejected-looking little -building, Dora’s long journey from Miss Skimmers’ seat of learning came -to an end. - -“Come in, miss,” said the landlady--who opened the door in person. -“The maid, she’s away--’aving been sent a’ errand by your sweet ma. -You’re Miss Montague-Vance’s daughter, of course; anybody could see -that at a glance, for you’re the livin’ image of ’er. ’Ere, Sarah! come -and take the young lady’s luggage and carry it up to the room Miss -Montague-Vance selected for ’er. Come in, miss; your sweet ma, she’s -awaitin’ of yer--’aving but recent come back from a drive round the -town with Mr. Bodwin, as owns the opera ’ouse, and Mr. Dante, as runs -the company.” - -All this was Greek to Dora. As a matter of fact, she hardly heard -it, for her mind was in a whirl between settling with the cabman and -realizing that she was now under the same roof with her unknown mother. -She scarcely knew what was said or done, until she was led down a short -and narrow passage, and the woman beside her was knocking at the door -before which they both stood. - -“The young lady, mum,” said the woman, as, in answer to a nonchalant, -“Come in,” she turned the knob, and, letting a strong odor of Turkish -cigarettes stream out into the passage, thrust open the door, “the -young lady, mum, and I’m a-showin’ of ’er straight in like you asked.” - -Dora waited for nothing more. - -“Mother!” she said, with a little throb in her voice as she pressed -past the landlady and entered the room, shutting the door behind her. - -It seemed so holy, this meeting for the first time since infancy with -the mother who had borne her! “It is I; it is Dora; it is----” - -Here she stopped. The room was full of smoke, and through the dense -aromatic cloud, she saw a figure curled up in a deep armchair beside a -table littered with papers, magazines, and cigarette ashes--a figure -clad in a beautiful lace tea gown, and with a lovely, alluring face -framed in a loose mass of disheveled wine-gold hair. - -“Oh! I beg your pardon,” said Dora, coloring and instinctively fumbling -for the knob of the door. “Such an absurd mistake. Pray forgive me; the -fault was not mine. I expected to find my mother here.” - -“Well, so you have done. If you are Dora--and what an absurdly big -creature you have grown! I am your mother.” - -“You? Absurd! Oh, pardon me, I don’t mean to be rude, but really this -is too silly. You can’t be more than a year or two older than I am -myself--and I am nearly eighteen years of age.” - -“Nearly sixteen, please; I’ve told Dante that, and we may as well stick -to it. It’s bad enough to have to confess that I’m old enough to have a -daughter nearly sixteen, without adding two years to it, for the sake -of truth. What in the world has made you grow like this? Of course, -I know that your father was tall, but if I had thought that you were -as big and as old-looking as you are, I don’t believe I should had -have courage enough to send to that Skimmers woman for you--although I -don’t know; it’s worth something to have a dig at your aunt! What are -you staring at me like this for? For pity’s sake, sit down. Why didn’t -you get a new dress? I sent money for you to do so. But perhaps the -Skimmers woman didn’t give it to you? Did she? Why don’t you answer? -I hate people who stare and say nothing. Sit down and talk to me, for -goodness’ sake. I haven’t much time to waste with you, anyway; I’ve got -to be off to the theater in a few minutes. I’m opening the new opera -house to-night, you know--or, perhaps, you don’t know! But the town is -well billed, and if you have any eyes at all you must have seen my name -on the boardings.” - -Dora drew back with a sudden influx of memory and with a shuddering -sense of repulsion. “Oh, you don’t mean--you can’t mean that you--you -are that woman? And that you are my mother as well?” - -“Why can’t I mean it? Look here! that Skimmers woman hasn’t raised you -like some Puritanical old granny, has she? I’m going to put you on the -stage, you know, and have a ‘go’ at your spiteful aunt, in that way. -She always treated her brother and me very shabbily. I don’t suppose -you ever heard much about your father? Well, he was the unfortunate -stepbrother to the richest woman in this part of the country: Mrs. -Charles Bonair. He’s dead, by the way, so you won’t be worried by him. -Although I wrote her, she wouldn’t give a farthing to me. Stingy old -cat! I told her about you--oh, make no mistake about that--and I’ll -make her pay dear for what she has tried to do against me in this town. -She would not let sleeping dogs lie, and now that she has waked ’em up, -she’ll have to pay the price for it, if I know myself.” - -Something that was like the pressure of a strong hand gripped Dora’s -throat. She did not speak; she could not--all strength, mental as -well as physical, seemed somehow to have died within her, and, in a -sort of collapse, she sank down on the edge of a convenient seat, and -stared dumbly at the shining figure before her; a sense of shuddering -repulsion biting into her soul and mirroring itself, in spite of her, -in her fixed eyes. For, somehow, this woman, her newly found mother, -reminded her of a snake curled up in rose leaves. - -“Don’t stare at me like that or I shall throw something at you, in a -minute!” blazed wrathfully the object of her attention, reading that -look and starting suddenly up in a temper. “I can see how it is: you -hate me. No; don’t trouble yourself to tell a polite lie--that sort -of thing is wasted on me--and besides, the sentiment is reciprocated. -I think I never saw a more ill-favored, unlovable creature in my life! -It positively makes me ill to look at you, with your way of looking -at people as though they were dirt beneath your feet. Upon my soul, -I’m half inclined to send you back to where you came from and to have -nothing more to do with you.” - -“I wish you would,” said Dora impulsively. “It was a hard life at Miss -Skimmers’ but--I wish you would.” - -“Oh, do you? Well, I won’t, then! I’m not the kind of person to invest -in stocks and then tear up the certificates. I may be like a hen who -has hatched out an eagle’s egg, but--the eagle is of some use to me at -present, and I’m not going to have it kicked out of the nest, simply -because it desires that sort of thing. I’ve made all my arrangements -with Milt Dante, and I’m going to put you on the stage.” - -“No, never!” said Dora, finding her voice suddenly. “I don’t want to go -on the stage; I prefer to be as I am.” - -“Oh, do you? Well, perhaps you haven’t any voice in the matter. You are -under age, and I am your legal guardian, and it strikes me that you -are going to do as you are bid, whether it meets with your approval -or not. I’ve made all arrangements with Mr. Dante, and you are going -to appear here--in this very town--to-morrow night, and are going to -be ‘featured’ on the bill as ‘Miss Vance, the niece of Mrs. Charles -Bonair, of Thetford Towers,’ and you are going, in that character, to -lead the March of the Amazons and to wear as little as the law allows -in the way of dress.” - -“I will never do it!” said Dora, starting to her feet, her whole body -shaking and her cheeks aflame, as she thought of the “ladies” she had -seen on the posters. “I don’t know whether you have told the truth or -not about my being the daughter of a gentleman, but--I will never do a -thing like that. I will run away first.” - -The figure in the chair rose unsteadily, in a froth of lace and a -billow of roseate silk, and laughingly drained out the last drop from a -champagne bottle on the table and drank it. - -“You won’t get the chance to run away,” she said, “I shall keep you -under my own eye until then. You will go with me to the theater -to-night, and I will put you under Milt Dante’s care whenever I am -obliged to leave you. As for your appearing on the stage to-morrow -night, you’ll do that if I have to chloroform you and have you carried -on. I’ll pay that woman for trying to shut me out of Crumplesea, make -no mistake about that. Now, come and help me dress; it’s time I was off -to the theater, and that fool of a Bodwin will be round here with his -carriage presently, to drive me there.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. A VIXEN. - - -What Mr. Milton Dante’s advance agent had predicted came to pass. Miss -Montague-Vance’s triumph was absolute before the curtain had fallen -upon the first act of “The Beauty of Gotham,” and by the time the first -night’s performance came to an end, all Crumplesea--all masculine -Crumplesea, that is to say--was, metaphorically, at her feet. - -Whatever she might be off the stage, there was no gainsaying the fact -that on it, hers was an alluring, lovely personality, and that her -beautiful face, and her soft dovelike eyes seemed created to make men -lose their heads and their hearts, and to become absolutely insane -over her. She could sing, too--not merely carry a tune and let the -orchestra furnish all the music, as so many of her kind do, but sing -intelligently, sweetly, and with a voice that showed cultivation as -well as the melody which had been put into it by nature--and as she -exerted herself that night as none of her colleagues had ever known her -to do before, it is scarcely to be wondered that she carried everything -before her, and that the reception accorded to her by delighted -Crumplesea partook of the nature of an ovation. - -In all the crowd that filled the new opera house and cheered and -shouted over her success, there was perhaps only one person--Dora--who -did not delight in her triumph. - -Seated in a proscenium box under the watchful eye and the close -guardianship of Mr. Milton Dante, the girl, dumb with shame, and -heartsick with despair, remained all the evening with her eyes cast -down, and never, even once, looked toward the stage. It was a relief -to her when the thing was over, and she was out in the cool night air -again, driving back to Minorca Villa, with Mr. Milton Dante on one side -of her, Mrs. Skivers--the wardrobe woman of the company, who had been -told to look after her in future and to share her room at the villa--on -the other, and her mother on the box with Mr. Bodwin, chattering and -laughing as they drove home through the fragrant sea-scented darkness. - -It was close to midnight when they came clattering up to Minorca -Villa, to find the landlady--whose palm had been rubbed with the magic -ointment of gold beforehand--awaiting them and a tempting little supper -on the table. - -“How sweet of you, dear Mrs. Burners,” said the siren of the evening, -as she jumped down and led the way into the house. “I am positively -famished. Are Miss Dora’s rooms ready? Thank you; she won’t sit up -to-night, I fancy.” - -“No, nor any other night,” supplemented Dora herself, in a low, firm -voice. “I have made up my mind that I will never do what you wish me to -do, and you may as well know that now as later. Let me go away; let me -go back to Miss Skimmers. I tell you I will never do that thing, never -while there is breath in my body.” - -“Oh, are you going to begin on that strain again? Take her up to bed, -Mrs. Skivers, and come down after she’s safely tucked in--and locked -in, too, mind--and chaperon me! One has to make some concession to that -awful British personage, Mrs. Grundy, you know.” And then with an airy -wave of the hand, she passed into the room where the supper was spread, -leaving Dora to trudge wearily and dejectedly up the stairs, in company -with Mrs. Skivers. - -“A glass of champagne and a cigarette, somebody! I feel like an eagle -that has been shut up for hours in a cage. Milt, don’t stop to carve -that chicken, when you must know that I’m on fire with impatience to -hear if you have done what I told you?” - -“About sending the wire to Mrs. Bonair, you mean? Oh, yes, I attended -to that, all right. But not exactly in the manner we first planned it. -Hasn’t Mr. Bodwin told you?” - -“Told me? He’s told me nothing. How could he, with that stupid girl -with us the whole time? What has been done? What was amiss with the -original scheme?” - -“Mr. Bodwin didn’t think it would work. He fancied Mrs. Bonair wouldn’t -take any notice of it, so to make sure, he drove over to the next town, -and as he knows the name of Mrs. Bonair’s lawyer, he hired a man to go -over by trap to Morecome Junction and wire back this: - - “‘Have missed connection, and am coming down by hired conveyance. - Look for me. Must see you to-night on a matter of life and death. - - “‘HAZLITT.’ - -“That will keep her up no matter how late the hour is, and she will see -you when you go.” - -“As she wouldn’t, I am convinced, dear Miss Montague, if you acted on -your original plan,” put in Mr. Bodwin. “I don’t mind telling you that -I owe her a grudge for trying to ruin the opening of the opera house; -and besides, I--I would do anything in the world for you.” - -“What a dear you are,” she said, with a laugh, and one of her arch -glances. “You shall take me for a ride to-morrow for that, and I will -take care that our dear, sweet friend never finds out that you had -anything to do with this business. Now another glass to the success of -the venture, Milt, and then away we go! Show her claws to me, will she, -the cat? Look here! there will be some fur flying to-night, unless I’m -out in my reckoning.” - -The second glass of champagne was poured out and drained, but--the -start was not yet; for just then Mrs. Skivers reappeared upon the scene -with word that she had seen Dora up to her room and locked her in, and -there had to be a third glass in consequence. - -“Stop here, Mrs. Skivers, and wait for us,” said Rosalind, when she -finally rose and let Mr. Bodwin again wrap her in the long cloak she -had discarded on entering. “I’m going for a short drive with the -gentlemen. You’ll find plenty to eat and drink, but mind you, don’t -take too much for your own good.” - -“I’ll look out for that,” said Dante, as he slid an unopened bottle -into each pocket of his coat and took possession of three clean glasses. - -“‘Lead on; I follow thee.’” - -Outside, Mr. Bodwin’s private carriage still stood waiting. They -trooped out and got into it and went skimming off through the darkness -again. - -Crumplesea was like a cemetery now, so still and black and lifeless it -was. They scudded through it and whirled out upon the cliffs, with the -sea droning and curling long zigzag lines of froth far down below them, -and the moonless sky stretching velvet-dark above. - -For twenty minutes or so they drove along with the wind in their faces, -the blown salt scent of the sea in their nostrils; then the carriage -swung suddenly round a curve that took it inland, bowled along a quiet -road hedged with brambles and overhung with trees, and, whirling at -length out of this, came full upon an immense double row of oaks -leading up to a building set in the midst of a sort of park. - -What it was like, this building, the darkness made it impossible to -ascertain with any degree of certainty, but in the lower windows of it -lights were burning and gave vague glimpses of a long, broad veranda -curtained with flowering vines and of a stone-railed terrace dotted at -regular intervals with urns that were full of flowers. - -“Here we are; this is Thetford Towers,” said Mr. Bodwin, in a whisper. -But before he could say more, a flash of nearer light revealed the -presence of a lodge--half lost in a wilderness of vines--and of a man -looming out to open the gates. - -“It’s you at last, sir,” the man said, as he made everything ready for -the vehicle to enter the grounds. “Mrs. Bonair has been watching for -you this long time, sir. I think you’ll find her in the veranda, sir. -It’s an uncommon hot night, and she is a rare one for fresh air, as no -doubt you know.” - -“Well, she will get something more than ‘fresh air’ in this case,” -said Rosalind, with a soft, low laugh, as the carriage swept by and -bowled up the broad driveway to the house. “Fancy the old cat living in -such luxury as this and never giving a farthing piece to me. You wait! -I’ll make her pay dear for it! She shall pour out sacks of money to -me before to-morrow night, or I’ll disgrace her so that she’ll never -show her face in public again. Look, will you? Look! There’s somebody -walking up and down that terrace, and it’s a woman, I can see her -passing by those lighted windows.” - -“’S-h-h-! it’s Mrs. Bonair herself,” whispered Mr. Bodwin. “I’ve seen -her too many years to be mistaken in her. My dear, if you wouldn’t mind -my stopping here----” - -“Of course, I don’t. Didn’t I say you shouldn’t be known in the affair? -Stop at once and let me go on alone. Milt, if there’s another glassful -left in that bottle I’ll take it.” - -“Better not, Rose; you’ve had enough, I’m thinking.” - -“Never mind what you are ‘thinking,’ I’m the best judge of what I want. -A fresh glassful and a fresh cigarette, please; I’m going to interview -my sister-in-law. Thank you so much! Here’s health and prosperity to -all of us. And now--for trouble.” - -Speaking, she scrambled down from the vehicle--a little unsteadily, as -both Mr. Bodwin and Mr. Dante observed--and, cigarette in mouth, ran -jauntily up to the veranda. - -“Good evening, my dear,” she said, as she skipped airily into the -veranda and confronted Mrs. Bonair. “You needn’t wait any longer for -Mr. Hazlitt, because he hasn’t the slightest knowledge of the wire that -was sent you, and I dare say that he has been in bed and asleep for -hours. Need I introduce myself?” - -Berry turned quickly, and faced her visitor. There was a brief pause; -then she answered with cold, calm, scornful dignity: - -“No, that is not in the least necessary. But you may tell me, if you -wish, why you presume to come here.” - -“I have come to either open your precious moneybags or to make you pay -dearly for trying to shut me out of Crumplesea.” - -Berry gave a sort of faint gasp--so low that it was scarcely -audible--then pulled herself together and tapped on the pane of the -nearest window. - -“Thompson,” she said imperatively; “Thompson, come out here at once and -take this creature away.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. A LAST DECISION. - - -Rosalind’s insolent face went red with wrath. - -“I don’t know who ‘Thompson’ is or whether it’s a man or a woman,” she -said threateningly, “but it will be a bad night’s business for both of -you, if either he or she tries anything of that sort. I’ve some friends -within call, and if I can’t take care of myself without them, I’ve only -to call, to get all the help I need.” - -Berry looked the unutterable disgust she felt, and she involuntarily -drew back a step from her unwelcome visitor. Fortunately for all -concerned, however, Thompson--who was one of the under footmen--was in -another part of the house at the time and did not, therefore, put in an -appearance in response to her ladyship’s request. - -Rosalind waited for a moment in expectation of hostilities of a -more formidable character than the mere resentment of an indignant -gentlewoman, and, finding that none were likely to come, stuck her -cigarette between her lips again and blew out a long writhing plume of -smoke. - -“I reckon that ‘Thompson’ knows when he’s well off, and has made -himself scarce,” she said with a laugh and a wave of one very much -bejeweled hand. “And as there’s no way for you to get into the house -unless I choose to step aside and let you, I also reckon you’ve got to -stand and face the music whether you like it or not. Turn about’s fair -play the world over. You tried to shut me out of Crumplesea, and now -I’m shutting you in--in your own veranda.” - -“What do you want of me, that you have had the impudence to come here -and to play me such a trick as you have done?” asked Berry, with cool -scorn. “No! don’t come any nearer; keep your distance, please; you are -quite too close for comfort as it is.” - -“Oh! you want to know what I’ve come for, do you? Well, you shall--and -in short order, too! Yes, and you’ll dance to a more expensive tune -than I first intended for treating me like this. Ten thousand would -have bought me off when first I came, but it’ll cost you fifty thousand -now, I promise you.” - -“There’s a mistake on your part--it won’t cost me a penny. If you -have any idea of blackmailing me because you are--well, what you are, -get that idea out of your mind at once. That my stepbrother married a -creature who was--and apparently still is--scarcely a fit associate for -one of my scullery maids and that I disowned him for it, are matters -that are known to every one who knows me, and I should scarcely be -likely to pay you money to keep secret a thing that is public property.” - -“Oh! that’s the ‘tack’ you’re going on, is it? Well, suppose I start -in telling something that everybody doesn’t know--not even you -yourself--what then? Look here, my Lady High and Mighty, you snuffed me -out as a wife and widow, but you can’t snuff me out as a mother--the -mother of your brother’s daughter, a child born in honorable wedlock -nearly eighteen years ago.” - -Save that it grew perhaps the fraction of a shade paler, Berry’s face -changed not one whit. - -She flung away her cigarette and fumbled for a moment among the folds -of her skirt, then her unsteady hand drew a packet of paper from her -pocket, loosened the bit of string that held it together, and flirted -off two documents from the top. - -“There’s her baptismal certificate, for one, and my marriage lines, -for another,” she said, “and here’s one of Adrian’s letters to me -acknowledging that he knew there was going to be a child. Solid -evidence that, isn’t it?” - -“Certainly; indisputable evidence. But again--quite unnecessary! Why -all this palaver? I really don’t see what you are driving at. Neither -I, nor my husband, nor any one else, ever doubted your announcement, -years ago. We simply had no interest in the matter. What is your -intention?” - -“Now look here: here’s what is going to happen to-morrow night, if you -don’t buy me off at my own price, and take that girl off my hands.” - -Speaking, she unfolded the last of the papers she held, filling the air -as she did so with the faint, sickly smell of fresh printer’s ink, and -shook out a still damp half-sheet poster. - -Berry did not notice it for a moment; she had taken up the baptismal -certificate and the faded letter. But she turned at last and saw the -bill that was held up for her inspection. And for the first time her -face became really pale. - -“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” said Rosalind, with a little babble of -splenetic mockery. “Your niece is going to lead the Amazon march, -and--in tights! She says she won’t, but she will, you know; she’ll -have to give in--people always have to do that where I’m concerned. -You’ll do it presently, like all the rest, and I shall leave this place -with your check for fifty thousand pounds in my pocket or else these -bills go up to-morrow morning, and what’s printed on them will happen -to-morrow night. It doesn’t do to run foul of me, does it, now?” - -“I don’t know,” said Berry, in a low, level voice; “and I really don’t -think that I care, either. If you have set your mind upon doing this -thing, you must do it, of course. And now, if you have said all that -you have to say, be good enough to relieve me of your presence. You -cannot extort one copper out of me, madam, no matter what you propose -to do.” - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. A VAIN THREAT. - - -“What!” she said, in a loud, aggressive voice, “you’ll let this thing -go on? You’ll let your brother’s daughter be put on the stage and made -a spectacle of, and you won’t pay me my price to prevent it?” - -“I will not pay you one penny--no, not even one farthing--to prevent -that or any other piece of blackguardism you may contemplate -committing. The girl is nothing to me, less than nothing since she is -your daughter. Do what you please with her; it is a matter of perfect -indifference to me, but I warn you that if you take liberties with my -name in the manner you propose to do, it will be actionable, and I -shall instruct my lawyer to prosecute.” - -For one moment Rosalind stood irresolute, rage tearing at her like a -ravenous wolf and the fumes of the wine she had drank mounting higher -and higher until her head swam. Then, of a sudden, she lurched away -from the rail of the veranda and leaped forward like a cat springing at -a mouse, her two hands reaching out and shutting upon Berry’s throat. - -“You’re a pig, you’re a stingy, spiteful, vicious old pig!” she -said, as she shook her with all her strength. “I’ll make you suffer -for this! I will, as I’m a living woman! Those bills go up in the -morning--do you hear me? and you can send some one to Crumplesea Opera -House to-morrow night, if you think I’m afraid of your threats of -prosecution and won’t disgrace your name as I said I would. Defy me, -will you? You’ll see what it costs, you’ll see, you’ll see!” - -And here, with one final shake, she pushed from her, and scudded out of -the veranda and ran dizzily down the path to the waiting vehicle. - -Mr. Bodwin and Mr. Milton Dante, who were anxiously awaiting her -return, saw her the very instant she appeared. - -“I say! it is really you at last,” said Mr. Dante, as she came -reeling up to the vehicle. “We began to think you were never coming, -and----Hello! what’s up? You look as though you were in a dickens of a -temper. Has the old girl been using you roughly, and wouldn’t she pay -the price, after all?” - -“She wouldn’t pay any price, even a farthing’s worth!” - -“You don’t mean to say that she intends to let it go on?” - -“Never mind what I intend to say, I’ll tell you in time enough. Turn -the horse round a bit, the wheel is in the way of the step and I want -to get in. What’s the matter with you two? Don’t you know how to -manage a horse? You keep the thing prancing about so much I can’t get -on the step.” - -“It--it’s not me, Miss Vance,” declared Mr. Bodwin; “it’s you; you’re -frightening it by rattling that bell and slipping off the step so -often, and it simply won’t stand still!” - -“Oh! it won’t, eh? Thinks it can play tricks on me like every one else -this evening, does it? I’ll show it--the beast!” - -Her temper was up now in real earnest. - -She lurched away from the side of the vehicle after still another -futile effort to keep her foothold upon the step, and by the time the -two men divined her intention she was halfway to the horse’s head. - -“Stop!” screeched out Mr. Milton Dante. - -“Miss Vance, for Heaven’s sake!” began Mr. Bodwin; but both cries fell -upon deaf ears. - -Blind with rage and maddened with drink, she rushed at the horse’s -head, caught at the bridle with one hand, and with the other struck it -full in the face. - -“Defy me, will you, you beast?” she began, and then--spoke never again! - -The reins that Mr. Bodwin was holding slackened suddenly and curved in -a loop between his knees for one instant before they drew taut again; -the horse reared in terror, an awful figure in the dark of the night, -over the small slight shape which for two seconds stood erect in the -pathway, then came a thud of descending hoofs and a little bleat of -agony, and in the winking of an eye men and vehicle were being whirled -off through the darkness by a runaway horse, and all that was mortal -of the woman whose loveliness had charmed all Crumplesea to-night lay -huddled up in the dust with one arm twisted under it and its skull -crushed in like an eggshell. - - * * * * * - -On the following day, Berry--who had lain awake all night, wondering -what she ought to do, and finally resolving to find her niece and save -her from the disgrace that threatened her--lost no time in tracing the -unhappy girl. - -To her surprise, she was charmed with her niece, after only an hour’s -talk with Dora. Childless herself, and loving children dearly, Berry -welcomed Dora to her heart and home; and when Charles returned from -America, he, too, rejoiced in Berry’s happiness. - -Thus Dora found in Berry a mother who deserved and won her love, and -in Charles a kind father, to take the place of one whom she had never -known. - -THE END. - -No. 1173 of the NEW EAGLE SERIES, by Charlotte May Stanley, is entitled -“Could He Have Known.” - - * * * * * - -Love Stories - -There is a great deal of difference between love stories and sex -stories. There is something about _love_ which commands respect and -reverence. - -There is nothing about the sex story which commands either. Most -decent-minded people are disgusted with the sort of literature that -some publishers are putting out in the guise of truth. - -If you want to know what a really decent, clean, wholesome love story -is, ask your dealer to sell you a copy of the _Bertha Clay Library_, or -the _Eagle Library_. - -In these two series, you will find everything that is necessary in -fiction to hold your interest, and a great deal that is preferable to -the sort of stuff which is being put out under camouflage by certain -publishers who are not very careful either about the way they make -money or what they publish. - - STREET & SMITH CORPORATION - 79 Seventh Avenue New York City - - * * * * * - -Only One Best - -The best paper-covered books are S. & S. NOVELS; consequently they are -imitated. - -When you ask for an S. & S. 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McVeigh Miller—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.pminus1 {margin-top: -0.25em;} -.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.s1 {margin-bottom:-0.25em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; - padding-top: 0;} - -.boxcontents{ - max-width: 18em; - padding: 1em; - border: 0em solid black; - margin: 0 auto; } - -.pcontents{ - text-align:left; - text-indent:-2em; - padding-left:2em; - margin-top: 0.1em; - margin-bottom: 0.1em; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -/*Table format*/ -table.toc { max-width: 28em;} - -.tbla {text-align: left;padding-left:1em} -.tblb {text-align: left;padding-left: 0.5em;} -.tblc {text-align: left; text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 2.5em;} -.tbld {text-align: left;padding-left:4em} - -.tbra{text-align: right;padding-left:1em} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.boxit{ - max-width: 14em; - padding: 1em; - border: 0.5em double black; - margin: 0 auto; } - -.boxit1{ - max-width: 24em; - padding: 1em; - border: 0.5em double black; - margin: 0 auto; } - -/*Indent-padding*/ -.ir2{text-align:right; padding-right:2em} - -.displayinline{display:inline-block; line-height:1} - -.hangindent{ - text-indent: -1.5em; - padding-left: 1.5em; - text-align:left;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} - -img.w100 {width: 100%;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} - -.poetry{ - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; -} - -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ - -@media print{ - .poetry{ - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; - } -} - -.x-ebookmaker .poetry{ - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} - -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} - -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .indent1{text-indent: -2em; padding-left: 3em;} -.poetry .indent4{text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 5em;} -.poetry .indent5{text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 6em;} -/* End poetry*/ - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -/*CSS to set font sizes*/ -/*font sizes for non-header font changes*/ -.xxlargefont{font-size: xx-large} -.xlargefont{font-size: x-large} -.largefont{font-size: large} -.cheaderfont{font-size:medium} -.boldfont{font-weight:bold} -.italicfont{font-style:italic} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.illowp25 {width: 25%;} -.illowp90 {width: 90%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp90 {width: 100%;} - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of All for Love, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: All for Love</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>or, Her Heart's Sacrifice</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67646]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL FOR LOVE ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 44.125em;"> - <img id="coverpage" class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - - -<div style="padding-top:2em"> -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 style="margin-top: 0em">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> - -<p>The Table of Contents was created by the transcriber and placed -in the public domain.</p> - -<p><a href="#TN_end">Additional Transcriber’s Notes</a> are at the -end.</p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="boxcontents"> -<p class="xlargefont center boldfont">CONTENTS</p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Chapter I. A Familiar Song.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Chapter II. The Rosy Emblem.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Chapter III. Sweethearts.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Chapter IV. Legitimate Game.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Chapter V. The Turning Point.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Chapter VI. The Book of Fate.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Chapter VII. A Suspected Rival.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Chapter VIII. Loved and Hated.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Chapter IX. Blue Eyes and Brown.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Chapter X. A Tragedy of Love.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Chapter XI. The Curtain Falls.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Chapter XII. A Phantom at Dawn.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Chapter XIII. An Ill-fated Girl.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Chapter XIV. Cottage and Castle.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Chapter XV. Strange Mysteries.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Chapter XVI. A Timely Rescue.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Chapter XVII. Bitter Rivalry.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Chapter XVIII. A Friend in Need.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Chapter XIX. The Old Love.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Chapter XX. Fate Willed Otherwise.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">Chapter XXI. The Happy Meeting.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">Chapter XXII. Their Plighted Vows.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Chapter XXIII. All For Love.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Chapter XXIV. The Next Day.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">Chapter XXV. A Fair Bride.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">Chapter XXVI. Bribing a Bride.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">Chapter XXVII. Forgetting the World.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">Chapter XXVIII. Turn of the Tide.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">Chapter XXIX. A Friend Indeed.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">Chapter XXX. A Generous Offer.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">Chapter XXXI. Alloy Always Glitters.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">Chapter XXXII. An Old Fool.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">Chapter XXXIII. The Unwelcome Letter.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">Chapter XXXIV. Bitter Memories.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">Chapter XXXV. Delays Are Dangerous.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">Chapter XXXVI. True to His Word.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">Chapter XXXVII. A Late Remorse.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">Chapter XXXVIII. A Bitter Secret.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">Chapter XXXIX. A Stolen Interview.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">Chapter XL. The Wedding Day.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">Chapter XLI. Trouble Begins Again.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">Chapter XLII. In New Guise.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">Chapter XLIII. At School.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">Chapter XLIV. The Meeting.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">Chapter XLV. A Vixen.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">Chapter XLVI. A Last Decision.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">Chapter XLVII. A Vain Threat.</a></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center largefont">NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 1172</p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont pminus1 s1"><span class="smcap">All For Love</span></p> - -<div class="center pminus1"> -<p class="displayinline hangindent"><em>BY -<span class="smcap xlargefont">Mrs. Alex.<br /> -McVeigh<br /> -Miller</span></em></p></div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp90" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover_illo.jpg" alt="Cover Illustration." /> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center largefont boldfont">POPULAR COPYRIGHTS</p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont boldfont">New Eagle Series</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont">PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS</p> - -<p class="center boldfont">Carefully Selected Love Stories</p> - -<p class="center boldfont italicfont largefont">Note the Authors!</p> - -<p>There is such a profusion of good books in this list, that it -is an impossibility to urge you to select any particular title or -author’s work. All that we can say is that any line that contains -the complete works of Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Charles Garvice, -Mrs. Harriet Lewis, May Agnes Fleming, Wenona Gilman, Mrs. -Alex McVeigh Miller, and other writers of the same type, is -worthy of your attention, especially when the price has been -set at 15 cents the volume.</p> - -<p>These books range from 256 to 320 pages. They are printed -from good type, and are readable from start to finish.</p> - -<p>If you are looking for clean-cut, honest value, then we state -most emphatically that you will find it in this line.</p> - -<p class="center boldfont"><em>ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT</em></p> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Book list"> -<tr><td class="tbla">1—Queen Bess</td><td class="tbra" style="width:50%">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbla">2—Ruby’s Reward</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbla">7—Two Keys</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbla">9—The Virginia Heiress</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">12—Edrie’s Legacy</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">17—Leslie’s Loyalty</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(His Love So True)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">22—Elaine</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">24—A Wasted Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(On Love’s Altar)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">41—Her Heart’s Desire</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(An Innocent Girl)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">44—That Dowdy</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">50—Her Ransom</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Paid For)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">55—Thrice Wedded</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">66—Witch Hazel</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">70—Sydney</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(A Wilful Young Woman)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">73—The Marquis</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">77—Tina</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">79—Out of the Past</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Marjorie)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">84—Imogene</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Dumaresq’s Temptation)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">85—Lorrie; or, Hollow Gold</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">88—Virgie’s Inheritance</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">95—A Wilful Maid</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Philippa)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">98—Claire</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(The Mistress of Court Regna)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblb">99—Audrey’s Recompense</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">102—Sweet Cymbeline</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Bellmaire)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">109—Signa’s Sweetheart</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Lord Delamere’s Bride)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">111—Faithful Shirley</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">117—She Loved Him</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">119—’Twixt Smile and Tear</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Dulcie)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">122—Grazia’s Mistake</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">130—A Passion Flower</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Madge)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">133—Max</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">136—The Unseen Bridegroom</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">138—A Fatal Wooing</td><td class="tbra">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">141—Lady Evelyn</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">144—Dorothy’s Jewels</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">146—Magdalen’s Vow</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">151—The Heiress of Glen Gower</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">155—Nameless Dell</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">157—Who Wins</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">166—The Masked Bridal</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">168—Thrice Lost, Thrice Won</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">174—His Guardian Angel</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">177—A True Aristocrat</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">181—The Baronet’s Bride</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">188—Dorothy Arnold’s Escape</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">199—Geoffrey’s Victory</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">203—Only One Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">210—Wild Oats</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">213—The Heiress of Egremont</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">215—Only a Girl’s Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">219—Lost: A Pearle</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">222—The Lily of Mordaunt</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">223—Leola Dale’s Fortune</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">231—The Earl’s Heir</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Lady Norah)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">233—Nora</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">236—Her Humble Lover</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(The Usurper; or, The Gipsy Peer)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">242—A Wounded Heart</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Sweet as a Rose)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">244—A Hoiden’s Conquest</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">250—A Woman’s Soul</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Doris; or, Behind the Footlights)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">255—The Little Marplot</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">257—A Martyred Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Iris; or, Under the Shadows)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">266—The Welfleet Mystery</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">267—Jeanne</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Barriers Between)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">268—Olivia; or, It Was for Her Sake</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">272—So Fair, So False</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(The Beauty of the Season)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">276—So Nearly Lost</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(The Springtime of Love)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">277—Brownie’s Triumph</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">280—Love’s Dilemma</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(For an Earldom)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">282—The Forsaken Bride</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">283—My Lady Pride</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">287—The Lady of Darracourt</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Floris)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">288—Sibyl’s Influence</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">291—A Mysterious Wedding Ring</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">292—For Her Only</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Diana)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">296—The Heir of Vering</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">299—Little Miss Whirlwind</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">300—The Spider and the Fly</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Violet)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">303—The Queen of the Isle</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">304—Stanch as a Woman</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(A Maiden’s Sacrifice)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">305—Led by Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “Stanch as a Woman”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">309—The Heiress of Castle Cliffs</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">312—Woven on Fate’s Loom, and The Snowdrift</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">315—The Dark Secret</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">317—Ione</td><td class="tbra">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(Adrien Le Roy)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">318—Stanch of Heart</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">322—Mildred</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">326—Parted by Fate</td><td class="tbra">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">327—He Loves Me</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">328—He Loves Me Not</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">330—Aikenside</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">333—Stella’s Fortune</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">(The Sculptor’s Wooing)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">334—Miss McDonald</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">339—His Heart’s Queen</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">340—Bad Hugh. Vol. I.</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">341—Bad Hugh. Vol. II.</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">344—Tresillian Court</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">345—The Scorned Wife</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">346—Guy Tresillian’s Fate</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">347—The Eyes of Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">348—The Hearts of Youth</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">351—The Churchyard Betrothal</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">352—Family Pride. Vol. I.</td><td class="tbra">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">353—Family Pride. Vol. II.</td><td class="tbra">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">354—A Love Comedy</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">360—The Ashes of Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">361—A Heart Triumphant</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">367—The Pride of Her Life</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">368—Won By Love’s Valor</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">372—A Girl in a Thousand</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">373—A Thorn Among Roses</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “A Girl in a Thousand”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">380—Her Double Life</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">381—The Sunshine of Love</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “Her Double Life”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">382—Mona</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">391—Marguerite’s Heritage</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">399—Betsey’s Transformation</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">407—Esther, the Fright</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">415—Trixy</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">440—Edna’s Secret Marriage</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">449—The Bailiff’s Scheme</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">450—Rosamond’s Love</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Bailiff’s Scheme”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">451—Helen’s Victory</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">456—A Vixen’s Treachery</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">457—Adrift in the World</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “A Vixen’s Treachery”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">458—When Love Meets Love</td><td class="tbra">By Charles Garvice</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">464—The Old Life’s Shadows</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">465—Outside Her Eden</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Old Life’s Shadows”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">474—The Belle of the Season</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">475—Love Before Pride</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Belle of the Season”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">481—Wedded, Yet No Wife</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">489—Lucy Harding</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">495—Norine’s Revenge</td><td class="tbra">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">511—The Golden Key</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">512—A Heritage of Love</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Golden Key”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">519—The Magic Cameo</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tblc">520—The Heatherford Fortune</td><td class="tbra">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tbld" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Magic Cameo”</td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i007.jpg" alt="Title page." /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1 class="nobreak">ALL FOR LOVE</h1> -</div> - -<p class="center" style="line-height:3em">OR,<br /> -<span class="xlargefont">Her Heart’s Sacrifice</span></p> - -<p class="center p2" style="line-height:1.5em">BY<br /> -<span class="xlargefont">MRS. ALEX. McVEIGH MILLER</span></p> - -<p class="center p2" style="margin-bottom:2em">Author of “Love Conquers Pride,” “The Man She Hated,” “A<br /> -Married Flirt,” “Loyal Unto Death”—published in the <span class="smcap">New<br /> -Eagle Series</span>. -</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp25" style="max-width: 7.8125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/publishers_icon.jpg" alt="Publisher logo." /> -</div> - -<p class="center p2"><span class="xlargefont" style="line-height:1.75">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</span><br /> -<span style="position:relative; top:-0.2em;">PUBLISHERS</span><br /> -<span class="xlargefont">79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York</span> -</p> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="boxit"> -<p class="center">Copyright, 1903<br /> -NORMAN L. MUNRO</p> - -<p class="center">All for Love</p> -</div> - -<p class="center p1">(Printed in the United States of America)</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xxlargefont nobreak" style="margin-bottom:1em" id="CHAPTER_I">ALL FOR LOVE.</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A FAMILIAR SONG.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>From a cottage window, embowered in azure morning -glories, a girl’s sweet voice sang blithely:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">“My heart with joy would thrill if you loved me, -</div><div class="indent0">’Twould give this life of mine its fill of ecstasy; -</div><div class="indent0">Each golden moment spent with you on wings of Joy would flee; -</div><div class="indent0">The sky would be a ceaseless blue if you loved me!” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>Berry Vining, the little village beauty, singing so -blithely at her window of a love that as yet she had -never known, was at the crisis of her fate, for at that -very moment down the village street swept a gay -cavalcade of riders, and as the sweet voice floated out -upon the air, their glances turned upward in irrepressible -admiration.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">“What odds to me how dark the night if you loved me, -</div><div class="indent0">For in your eyes a beacon light of love I’d see; -</div><div class="indent0">My future, now a dark abyss, forever changed would be, -</div><div class="indent0">To sunny paths of rosy bliss if you loved me!” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>She was so lovely, this little Berry Vining, with her -wealth of curly chestnut locks, framing a face so fresh<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> -and fair as the morning glories round the window—so -lovely, with her big, wondering, brown eyes under -long, shady lashes, her sea-shell tints, her perfect little -nose, and rose-red lips, and dainty chin, where dimples -swarmed, entrancingly, whenever she smiled, that no -one could look at her without admiration.</p> - -<p>When all those eager eyes were leveled at her window -the girl drew very hastily backward, but not until -she had seen one hat lifted from a handsome head in -her honor, as the man’s eyes paid eager tribute to -her charms.</p> - -<p>It all passed in a moment, but not too quickly for -that flashing glance to strike fire in a romantic maiden’s -heart.</p> - -<p>The laughing, chattering riders passed on, the handsome -men, the pretty women, and Berry hid her blushing -face among the green, heart-shaped leaves of the -morning glories, and whispered to the flowers:</p> - -<p>“Oh, what a handsome young man! What beautiful -eyes, what a loving smile! How grandly he -rode on that fine bay horse—like a young prince, I -fancy, although I never saw one—and how courteous -to bow to me, though he had never seen me before! -Even proud Miss Montague, who rode by his side, did -not appear to notice me, little Berry Vining, that she -has known all her life! Oh, how I envy her the joy<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> -of being with him, of hearing him speak, and looking -into his beaming eyes! I would give the whole world -for such a splendid lover!”</p> - -<p>“Berry! Berry!” called an impatient voice from the -foot of the stairs, but unheeding the summons, her -thoughts ran on in melodious whispers to the soft, -green leaves:</p> - -<p>“Oh, I love him already, I cannot help it, for when -his eyes met mine a great rapturous shudder thrilled -me through my whole being and told me I had met -my fate! Oh, shall we ever meet again, I wonder! -We must, we must, or my heart will break with love -and longing! It was prophetic, that song I was singing -as his eyes met mine!” and she began to hum again -tenderly:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">“What odds to me how dark the night if you loved me, -</div><div class="indent0">For in your eyes a beacon light of love I’d see!” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“Berry!—Ber-en-i-ce Vi-ning!” called the impatient -voice downstairs again, and starting from her rosy -dreams of love, the girl flew to reply:</p> - -<p>“Well, mamma?”</p> - -<p>The pale, faded little mother answered complainingly:</p> - -<p>“Always too late! I called you to look at the riding -party from Montague’s—their summer guests—five<span class="pagenum">[8]</span> -grand couples of them, on horseback! But you -missed everything coming down so slow!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, dear mamma, for I was watching them -from my window, and saw all. How fine they looked, -indeed! I wish I could be like them!”</p> - -<p>“If wishes were horses beggars would ride!” -mocked the pale, tired mother sourly. “Come, now, -and tidy up the kitchen, for I must be off to my day’s -work. There’s no rest for the weary.”</p> - -<p>She snatched down a rusty black bonnet from the -nail where it hung, and hurried from the house, hastening -downtown to the shop, where she worked by -the day for the pittance that supported herself and -daughter. She was a tailoress by trade, and had been -reared, wedded, and widowed in this little New Jersey -town. Her eldest children had all married, and gone -to humble homes of their own; she lived alone in the -tiny cottage with her youngest girl, Berenice, or Berry, -as she was familiarly called. A boy, still younger, -lived on a farm with a relative.</p> - -<p>Berry, now almost nineteen, had many admirers, but -none of them had ever touched her romantic young -heart, much to the regret of her work-worn mother, -who longed to see her pretty darling settled down to -married life in a comfortable home, with a good husband.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[9]</span></p> - -<p>But Berry had only laughed at her suitors, for in -her girlish thoughtlessness she did not realize her -mother’s cares and anxieties. Unconsciously to herself, -perhaps, she had secret ambitions, born, it may -be, of her high sounding name Berenice, or the knowledge -that she had the gift of beauty, so potent in its -spell upon mankind.</p> - -<p>Berry longed for higher things, and despised the -humdrum lives of her sisters with the humble mates -they had chosen. Like another Maud Muller, she -longed for something better than she had known.</p> - -<p>So as she tucked the blue gingham apron over her -spotless print gown, and deftly tidied up the kitchen, -her excited thoughts followed the gay cavalcade of -riders with eager interest and longing.</p> - -<p>“I believe I am as pretty as any of those proud, -rich girls,” she murmured, glancing into the little -cracked mirror over the mantel, and sighing: “Why -should I have so different a fate? Why did my poor -father have to drive an humble delivery wagon all his -life and die of a malarial fever at last; and why does -poor mamma have to work as a tailoress, while -Rosalind Montague has a millionaire for a father, -and a fine lady mother flaunting in silks and diamonds? -In only one thing has God made us equal, and that is -beauty. I have rivaled her to-day with her splendid<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> -lover, and who knows but it may end in raising me -to her height of wealth and pride! If he loves and -marries me, how much I can do for poor mamma and -the others! They should never have to work so hard -again. Oh, I am so happy, hoping he loves me, for -even if he were poor and humble as I am, I could love -him just as well.”</p> - -<p>“Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat!” went the knocker on the door, -and her heart leaped wildly as she flew to open it.</p> - -<p>There stood the red-headed lad from the florist’s -with a large bunch of splendid red roses, wet with -morning dew, and exhaling the rarest spicy fragrance.</p> - -<p>“American beauties, Berry Vining—for you!” he -cried, thrusting them into her eager little hands, with -a significant grin on his good-natured, freckled face.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[11]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE ROSY EMBLEM.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Berry cried out in delight as she pressed the flowers -to her face:</p> - -<p>“Oh, how sweet, how lovely! Who sent me the -roses, Jimmy Dolan?”</p> - -<p>“Gent from up ter de hall, sure, but I dunno his -name. He was goin’ past our shop on horseback with -Miss Montague, and when they turned the corner he -rid back and bought these roses and guv me a dollar -ter bring ’em ter you, Berry—leastwise he said, ‘that -pretty girl in the morning-glory cottage down the -street,’ so I knowed ’twas you, and then he said: ‘Tell -her the roses came from an ardent admirer.’”</p> - -<p>With that Jimmy darted away, and left Berry standing -with the roses pressed to her face, lost in a dream -of delight.</p> - -<p>“He loves me, loves me! For love is the emblem -of the sweet, red rose,” thought the romantic little -maiden, trembling with pure joy.</p> - -<p>To her young mind the gift of the roses was like an -avowal of love from the handsome stranger, and she -went happily about her simple tasks, hoping, praying -that before another day they might meet again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[12]</span></p> - -<p>When Mrs. Vining came home that night to the -simple tea Berry had prepared, she wondered a little -that the girl wore the pretty, ruffled, white gown that -had been kept sacred to Sunday toilets before.</p> - -<p>“Must be invited to a party—never saw your Sunday -gown on before, in the middle of the week,” she observed -tentatively.</p> - -<p>Berry, blushing almost as red as the rose on her -breast, answered carelessly:</p> - -<p>“Oh, I just thought of standing at the gate to see -the people going up to the lawn fête at the hall to-night, -you know.”</p> - -<p>“And wishing in your heart you could go, too, silly -child; ain’t you, now? Well, you’re pretty enough to -be there, if that was all, Berry, but it isn’t, more’s the -pity for you, so don’t waste any regret on it, dearie, for -remember the true saying: ‘Poor folks have to have -poor ways.’”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it should be the way, mamma, for -I’ve often heard it said that clothes don’t make the -man—nor woman, either! For instance, now, Miss -Rosalind Montague is no better, nor prettier, than I -am, if she were stripped of her fine clothes and jewels!”</p> - -<p>“Fie, fie! you vain little chick, I’m surprised at -your talk. Let me hear no more of it. You must be -contented in the sphere where Heaven has placed you,<span class="pagenum">[13]</span> -Berry. Or, if you wish to better your lot, you have a -fine chance before you now.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” gasped Berry breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“You have another proposal of marriage—one from -a rich man!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, mamma!” gasped Berry joyously, her eyes -beaming, her cheeks aflame.</p> - -<p>She could think of one—only one lover—at this -moment.</p> - -<p>How quickly he had found out her mother, how impetuous -he was, her handsome lover—how impetuous, -how adorable!</p> - -<p>The future stretched before her eyes in a haze of -bliss—the realization of all the golden gleams she had -been weaving to-day on the airy foundation of a bow -and smile, and the gift of a bunch of red roses!</p> - -<p>Silly, happy little Berry! How quickly her dream -was to be shattered!</p> - -<p>Mrs. Vining, draining her teacup, and setting it -back in its saucer, now continued blandly:</p> - -<p>“To-day my employer—Widower Wilson, you know—was -talking to me about this very lawn fête that -the Montagues are giving up at the hall to-night, and -he said it was to announce Miss Rosalind’s betrothal -to Senator Bonair’s handsome son, the one that rode<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> -with her this morning, Berry. And he went on to -say—what do you think, my dear?” triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure,” Berry answered, with a -sudden paling cheek, while she said to herself, in dismay:</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no, he is not engaged to her—he cannot -be! He loves me—me only!—and he will surely -come and tell me so!”</p> - -<p>“He said, my dear, that he was hoping to have a -lawn fête, too, very soon, to announce his engagement -to the sweetest and prettiest girl in New Market, if she -would have him, and he wanted her mother to ask -her to-night if she would. Now can you guess?” smiling -broadly.</p> - -<p>“N-no, mamma!” faltered Berry.</p> - -<p>“Why, then, you are very stupid, indeed, to-night, -and I never found you so before! Well, then, it’s -you, child, you, poor little Berry Vining, he wants to -marry, when he might aspire almost to the highest. -What a match for you, dearie! Aren’t you proud and -glad?”</p> - -<p>Berry, stamping her little foot, cried out petulantly:</p> - -<p>“Mamma, you must surely be going crazy! The idea -of marrying old Wilson, indeed! Older than my own -father, for he began as errand boy in Wilson’s shop, -and then old Wilson must have been white-headed!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[15]</span></p> - -<p>“He was not, you pert minx, he was only a young -married man, not more than ten years over your -father’s age! But what does that matter, when he’s a -widower now, worth a hundred thousand dollars, and -willing to stoop to marry a poor girl whose father -drove his delivery wagon, and whose mother works by -the day in the shop to take care of you!”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t marry the old blear-eyed miser if every -hair of his head were gold and strung with diamonds, -but you may take him yourself, mamma, if you want -him so badly in the family!” cried Berry, with mocking -laughter.</p> - -<p>“I only wish he would give me the chance, since you -are such a fool!” angrily replied the disappointed -mother, who craved the ease and comfort for her old -age that Mr. Wilson’s money would give to herself and -pretty, thoughtless Berenice.</p> - -<p>She flung herself down on the kitchen lounge for her -usual evening nap after tea, and her daughter, still -laughing at the ridiculous suit of her aged wooer, hastened -outdoors to the front gate to watch every passer-by -with a throbbing heart, in the eager hope of his coming—his, -her lover, for she would call him that in -spite of a hundred Rosalinds! It was false what they -said of his betrothal to the proud, rich beauty, with -her flax-gold hair and bluebell eyes. She could never<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> -believe it, never, after all that had passed to-day—the -bow, the flashing glance of love, the gift of the roses. -Presently he would be coming to tell her that he loved -her, and her alone.</p> - -<p>It was one of those moonlight nights in early September, -that seem like June. The full moon shone in -a cloudless sky, sown thick with stars; the air was -warm and fragrant, and seemed to pulsate with love. -Every girl remembers how on such a night she has -hung over the front gate, gowned in white, with a rose -in her hair, waiting and watching for a lover dearer -to her heart than all the world beside!</p> - -<p>Berenice did not watch long in vain, for it was a -true presentiment that told her the idol of her heart -was coming.</p> - -<p>Men and women passed and repassed for almost an -hour, but at last her heart leaped with subtle ecstasy, -for one paused and stood in front of her, gazing down -with a smile into her starry eyes.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Miss Vining, good evening!” cried a musical -voice. “You see, I have found out your name. Mine -is Charley Bonair. Do you remember me?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">SWEETHEARTS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Remember him? ah!</p> - -<p>Berry could have laughed aloud at the tender question.</p> - -<p>She knew that she could never forget his glance -and smile of this morning her whole life long.</p> - -<p>Yet, with her pretty head poised, coquettishly, on one -side, and her eyes half veiled under their shady lashes, -she faltered demurely:</p> - -<p>“I—I—believe you are the same gentleman that -passed with Miss Montague this morning, and bowed -to me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are right,” he answered, with a soft laugh, -as he leaned his elbows on the gate with his face very -close to her, while he continued tenderly:</p> - -<p>“And from the first moment I saw your lovely face I -could not get you out of my mind. I asked Miss -Montague who was that pretty young girl, and she -frowned at me, and said: ‘There’s not a pretty face -that can escape you, Charley; but that is only little -Berry Vining, the daughter of a poor tailoress, not -in our set at all, so don’t ask for an introduction.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[18]</span></p> - -<p>Berry’s cheeks grew hot, and her heart thumped with -anger as she said to herself:</p> - -<p>“I’ll pay you out for that, my proud lady, by taking -him away from you!”</p> - -<p>Handsome Charley Bonair continued wheedlingly:</p> - -<p>“As I couldn’t get properly introduced to you, I -thought I’d present myself. I see you are wearing -some of my roses.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you so much for them; I love roses dearly,” -murmured Berry, in shy bliss, her head in such a -whirl under his laughing, ardent glance, that she hardly -knew whether she was standing on her head or on her -feet.</p> - -<p>In his black evening suit, and a white carnation in -his buttonhole, he was superbly handsome, and carried -with him that subtle aroma of wealth and position so -alluring to a poor girl brought for the first time in contact -with uppertendom. It was as if a being from another -sphere, a distant star, had fallen at her feet, -stooping to lift her to his dazzling height.</p> - -<p>Trembling with mingled pride and love and joy, she -looked up at him with her heart in her eyes, her tender -secret plain as day to him, almost too easy a conquest -to the blasé young man of the world.</p> - -<p>But he continued to smile very tenderly at her, and<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> -venturing to clasp her little hand as it clung to the top -of the fence, he said:</p> - -<p>“I am due at the Montagues’ lawn fête presently, -but will you come with me for a little spin in my run-about -first? It is just around the corner, and this is -the finest night I ever saw for a moonlight drive.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shall be delighted—but—but—I must ask -mamma first,” declared the happy girl.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, for explanations would delay our drive, -since I must soon be back to the hall. We will be -home before she knows we are gone. Only a two-mile -spin, dear little girl,” pleaded the tempter, pressing -her little hand.</p> - -<p>She thought:</p> - -<p>“Mamma is asleep by now, and it would be a pity -to arouse her from her nap. Surely there’s no harm -in going, as I shall be back before she misses me! -And I shall so like to have this triumph over proud -Miss Montague, who tried to belittle me in his dear -eyes.”</p> - -<p>He saw that she was yielding, and, unlatching the -gate, quickly drew her outside, placing her small, trembling -hand on his arm, and leading her to the waiting -trap.</p> - -<p>A moment more, and he was lifting her into the -elegant little trap, drawn by a magnificent blooded bay<span class="pagenum">[20]</span> -horse, whose silver-mounted harness glittered in the -moonlight. Seating himself by her side, he took up -the reins, and away they went through the town and -out upon the broad country road, where the air, with -the salty tang from the sea, was fresh and sweet and -exhilarating.</p> - -<p>“Almost seems like eloping, does it not?” laughed -Charley Bonair. “What if it were so, dear little -girl?”</p> - -<p>Berry caught her breath with a startled gasp, a -dizzy suspicion running through her mind.</p> - -<p>Did he mean it?</p> - -<p>Was it an elopement sure enough? Was he taking -her away to marry her, now, to-night?</p> - -<p>What would Rosalind Montague say?</p> - -<p>She never dreamed of resisting if such were his -will.</p> - -<p>Poor little Berry was under the intoxicating spell -of a maiden’s first love, and it did not seem to her as -if her splendid hero could do anything wrong.</p> - -<p>The bay horse flew over the smooth road, the fresh -air blew in their faces, lifting the soft curls from -Berry’s white brow, and she felt like one in Elysium. -She was dwelling in a new and beautiful world, the -golden land of love.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[21]</span></p> - -<p>Yet, when her companion gently attempted to slip -an arm about her waist, she decisively repulsed him.</p> - -<p>“No, no; you must not make so free—we are almost -strangers,” she exclaimed, blushing warmly.</p> - -<p>“Strangers! Why I love you, little girl! Cannot -you love me a little in return?” he pleaded.</p> - -<p>Berry was about to answer him yes, taking this for -a proposal of marriage, when she suddenly remembered -the gossip about his betrothal to Rosalind, and drawing -back, she faltered tremulously:</p> - -<p>“But—but—they say that you are engaged to marry -Miss Montague!”</p> - -<p>“Bah! What has that to do with your being my -sweetheart, I wonder; she need not know about it,” -laughed Charley Bonair, leaning as close to her as she -would permit, for she was recoiling in perplexity, murmuring:</p> - -<p>“But is it true?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, little one, I’m to marry her some day, -I suppose! Deuced pretty girl, you know, and in ‘my -set,’ and all that—very proper, of course. But I mean -to have as many sweethearts as I like, before and after -the wedding, if you please!”</p> - -<p>If he had thrust a knife in her tender heart Berry -could not have moaned more piteously, for all at once -he seemed to her a monster instead of an adorable<span class="pagenum">[22]</span> -Prince Charming. With that heartbreaking little -moan, she cried plaintively:</p> - -<p>“Oh, take me home, take me home quickly! Please, -please, please!”</p> - -<p>And though the moon and stars still gleamed on as -brightly as before, it seemed to her tortured mind as -though the whole sky were veiled in inky darkness, and -her dream of love and happiness had faded as before a -chilling wintry blast.</p> - -<p>He had told her he was indeed to marry Rosalind, -but that he should continue to have as many sweethearts -as he pleased! He dared even think she would -consent to be one of them!</p> - -<p>She began to tremble like a wind-blown leaf, and -as he only laughed in answer to her pleading, she -added wildly:</p> - -<p>“You are cruel; you are wicked, to be making love -to me when you are to marry another! I will have no -more to do with you, so there, there, there!” and tearing -the roses from her breast and hair, Berry flung -them in his face with the passionate fury of “the -woman scorned.”</p> - -<p>“You dear little vixen!” he exclaimed, boisterously, -without turning back.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">LEGITIMATE GAME.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>To the gay young gallant, Berry’s anger only made -her more charming. She had seemed too easy a prize -before, for he had read her heart very quickly by the -light of former experiences.</p> - -<p>A millionaire senator’s only son, and not many years -older than Berry, he looked upon this poor young girl -who had fallen in love with him so easily as only legitimate -game if he could win her heart.</p> - -<p>Like a flash, it came to him with her bitter words -that she could not be so lightly won, that she was -proud and pure as she was fair.</p> - -<p>The realization of this fact only made her more -interesting. Now he swore to himself he would not -relinquish the pursuit. There would be more zest -in it thus.</p> - -<p>So he only laughed at her entreaties to turn back, -only laughed as the roses pelted his face and stung him -with their thorns, only urged the bay to a greater speed, -until Berry, her brief anger passed, suddenly crouched -in her seat, sobbing forlornly, in woe and grief:</p> - -<p>“Oh, why did I come? What made me so foolish?<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> -Hadn’t I always been told that rich young men had -little use for poor girls, only to rob them of their happiness! -Oh, Heaven, spare me from this wretch, and -send me safely back to poor mamma!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, come now, little darling, don’t be so foolish,” -coaxed Charley Bonair. “Don’t you know I wouldn’t -harm one hair of that pretty little head! Why, I only -brought you out for a pleasant drive, and presently I’ll -take you home safe to your mamma. Maybe I was -rather mistaken in you at first, and thought you would -be my little sweetheart for the asking. But I surely -know better now, and I own I respect you more for it. -Come, come, little girl, let us be friends again! Haven’t -I been honest with you? Don’t I own my engagement -to Rosalind, although ’pon honor, I almost like -you better. But I couldn’t marry you, darling, even -if I were free of Rosalind, for my proud, rich father -and sisters would never forgive us the mésalliance; and -my father would withdraw my allowance, and we -should be poor as church mice; see?”</p> - -<p>He had spoken gayly, but earnestly, and Berry, who -had ceased her sobbing to listen to him, faltered, softly:</p> - -<p>“If I loved any one very much I could be happy -with him, even if we had not a cent in the world!”</p> - -<p>The bashful avowal half sobered his gayety, and he -exclaimed:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> - -<p>“Do you mean that for me, little one? That you -could love me penniless, could marry me if the old dad -cut me off with a shilling, and be happy with me -on bread and cheese and kisses?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I could,” declared Berry ardently, forgetting in -the passion of pure, first love all her ambitious dreams -for the future. In a moment his arm slipped around -her waist, and he drew her to him, crying recklessly:</p> - -<p>“I’ll take you at your words, sweetheart; I’ll marry -you to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“How dare you kiss me?” Berry cried, fighting him -off with her weak, white hands. “Take your arm -from my waist! You cannot deceive me with false -vows. You are going to marry Rosalind Montague, -who has your promise.”</p> - -<p>“Bad promises are better broken than kept. I’ll -marry you, my little darling, and tell Rosalind to find -another husband!” Bonair answered, with another -reckless laugh, still speeding his horse onward, though -they were miles and miles away from home by this -time, out in the open country, where houses were few -and far between.</p> - -<p>“I will not listen to your false promises. Oh, take -me home, if you have the least regard for me! I did -wrong to come, I know, but take me back before -mamma misses me!” entreated Berry, clutching his arm<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> -with hysterical energy, tears raining down her pallid -cheeks.</p> - -<p>All at once she had lost faith in him, and his kisses -had frightened her with their fervor, as she realized -by the light of the words he had spoken the vast distance -between their positions: he, the millionaire senator’s -son; she, the daughter of the poor tailoress. No, -no, he could never stoop to her, she could never drag -him down—he was for Rosalind, his equal. As for -her, life was over—she loved him so she could never -love another, but she must die of her despair.</p> - -<p>But Charley Bonair kept on laughing at her wild entreaties.</p> - -<p>“Not yet—not yet!” he cried hilariously, while he -urged the bay on, and still onward under the silvery -moonlight. “Listen, Berry, I have a clever plan to -humiliate Rosalind and cause her to break the engagement -so that I may marry you: I shall take you back -to the lawn fête, and dance with you there as my -guest, with Rosalind and my haughty sisters. Oh, how -angry they will be! If they order you to leave I shall -defy them, and we will dance on and on, and Rosalind -will be furious, vowing she will never speak to me -again. How do you like my plan? Will you come with -me back to the hall now?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, never, never!” cried Berry, shrinking in horror<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> -from his sensational proposition, frightened, eager to -escape.</p> - -<p>“You shall!” laughed Bonair abruptly, turning his -horse’s head to return.</p> - -<p>“I will not!” she shrieked indignantly, and rose to -her feet, reckless with despair. The next moment, to -his horror, she sprang over the wheel, out into the -rocky road, before he could lift a hand to prevent her.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[28]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE TURNING POINT.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>As long as he lived, Charley Bonair would never -forget that tragic moment.</p> - -<p>All at once, the fumes of wine passed from his -brain, and left him sober and horrified, the heart sinking -like lead in his breast.</p> - -<p>It flashed over his mind that Berry’s wild leap for -liberty, made just as he turned the vehicle around, could -hardly fail to result in her instant death on the rough -and rocky road.</p> - -<p>A loud groan escaped his blanched lips, and he drew -the frightened horse swiftly back upon its haunches -that he might spring out to go to her assistance.</p> - -<p>But the spirited animal, frightened out of all reason -by Berry’s leap, and his master’s wild cry of alarm, -now spurned control, and darted forward at headlong -speed, dragging the lines from Bonair’s hands, -so that the light trap rocked so wildly from side to side -he could barely keep his seat by clinging to the edges.</p> - -<p>He felt himself rushing to instant death, and in his -horror over Berry’s fate, he did not greatly care, -though the instinct of self-preservation made him shout -aloud while he clung desperately to the swaying vehicle<span class="pagenum">[29]</span> -that, after a mile or so of this tremendous rush, -became shattered into pieces, mercifully enough for -him, because he suddenly fell through the wreck to the -ground, miraculously unharmed. The maddened horse -still rushed forward with furious leaps, trying to rid -himself of the fettering shafts that clung and hindered -his flight.</p> - -<p>He lay prostrate in the dust several moments, -bruised, battered, and shaken, but, luckily, with no -bones broken, so that presently he stood upright again, -the only living thing in sight upon the lonesome road.</p> - -<p>The moon and stars shone down upon him coldly, -and the night winds seemed to reproach him in subtle -whispers.</p> - -<p>“Where is she, the girl who trusted you, whose -tender faith you shattered with your reckless words?” -it seemed to say.</p> - -<p>With a groan he looked backward, then retraced his -steps with difficulty, he was so shaken up from the -shock and the fall.</p> - -<p>But he knew that he must find her, dead or alive, -must restore her to her home, for which she had -pleaded pitifully.</p> - -<p>There was a great ache, deep down in his heart, -a passionate repentance for his folly, a dawning love -greater than any he had ever known in his wild career.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[30]</span></p> - -<p>“If Heaven would listen to such a sinner, I’d pray -to find her, living and unhurt,” he thought wildly. -“Surely if my unworthy life could be spared, hers -should be! Dear, little, innocent Berry!”</p> - -<p>Toiling wearily and anxiously along the road, he -regained the spot where Berry had sprung to her fate. -With a wild heart-throb he saw her white figure lying -prone on the ground.</p> - -<p>“Not dead! oh, not dead!” he prayed wildly, as he -bent over the prostrate form.</p> - -<p>Still and white, and seemingly lifeless, she lay, poor -little girl; but placing his hand above her heart, he -felt a faint, irregular flutter that assured him of life.</p> - -<p>He looked wildly about for assistance, his pale face -transfigured with joy.</p> - -<p>“Berry, dear little Berry, speak to me,” he cried -fondly; but there was no reply.</p> - -<p>The dark lashes did not lift from the pallid cheeks, -the sweet lips did not open to answer his pleading cry, -the little hand he clasped seemed already cold with -approaching death.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if some one would happen along! If I only -had a vehicle!” he groaned, sweeping his glance up and -down the lonely road for a sign of life anywhere. -But there was neither man nor house in sight, only<span class="pagenum">[31]</span> -unbroken vistas of trees lining the dreary road, and in -the distance the prolonged baying of a hound that sent -an evil shudder along his veins.</p> - -<p>They were at least five miles from town, and he remembered -with sickening self-reproach how he had -promised Berry that it should be so short a drive, not -over two miles at the longest.</p> - -<p>“My accursed selfishness and vanity caused it all! -If she dies, her death lies at my door,” was the thought -that beat upon his bewildered brain.</p> - -<p>Every moment of unconsciousness brought her death -nearer and nearer; he realized it with cruel force. -“Ah, Heaven, what should I do?” he cried, kneeling -over her there in the dusty road, marveling even -in his remorse and grief at the fairness of her pallid -face.</p> - -<p>There was only one thing to do—he must carry her -back to town in his arms, since there was no other -way.</p> - -<p>Like Richard the Third, he could have cried out: -“My kingdom for a horse!”</p> - -<p>Realizing all the bitterness of his plight, he bent -down and took Berry’s limp figure in his arms and -started out to trudge the distance back to town.</p> - -<p>Ordinarily this would have been no great feat, for -Charley Bonair was an athlete of renown among his<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> -fellows. But he had got such a severe shaking up -himself, besides partially spraining his ankle, that he -was not very fit for the burden he now started out -to carry.</p> - -<p>He trembled under the weight of Berry, and the -perspiration ran down his face in streams, while he -had to hide his lips to suppress groans of agony, as -the weak ankle now and then twisted under him so that -he could barely proceed.</p> - -<p>But he set his teeth, grimly, vowing:</p> - -<p>“I shall take her home if I die for it. It is the only -atonement I can make for my sin. How dared I think -I could flirt with this pure, sweet little darling!”</p> - -<p>He thought with wonder of her exquisite innocence -and ignorance, of how surely she had believed at first -that he really wished to marry her when she was so -far beneath him in the social scale.</p> - -<p>“I shall never forget her pride and anger when I -showed her my real nature,” he thought ruefully. “Ah, -what a strong sense of honor! How it put me to -the blush! She is too good for me, sweet little Berry! -It is better to marry Rosalind, who knows all my faults, -doubtless, and is not very saintly herself.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly he paused in distress, and looked about -him.</p> - -<p>The moon had gone under a dark cloud, the air<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> -had turned chill, a flurry of rain beat down upon him, -groping in thick darkness with that dead weight in -his arms. It was one of the sudden changes in September -weather, capricious as April.</p> - -<p>“We must get under shelter, somehow, somewhere!” -he thought, looking toward the trees, then a cry of joy -shrilled over his lips.</p> - -<p>Among the trees he saw a light flare up like a -precious jewel in the gloom. It came from the windows -of a house.</p> - -<p>He staggered toward it, drenched with rain, agonized -at every step with his sprained ankle, and his mind in -a tumult. How he gained the porch he scarcely knew, -but he saw that it was a sort of tavern.</p> - -<p>He stumbled on the steps and fell prone with his -lovely burden.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[34]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE BOOK OF FATE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Hello! What is this? Looks romantic!” cried a -gay, female voice, as the owner ran forward, followed -by several curious people, who united in concern -for the drenched and hapless strangers thus cast -upon their care.</p> - -<p>With lively ejaculations of wonder, they got the pair -into a large, shabby sitting room, where a troupe of -stage people were making merry.</p> - -<p>The most warm-hearted people on earth, they began, -without any questions, to relieve their guests. Presently -Bonair was able to explain reservedly:</p> - -<p>“I was driving out with that young lady, a friend -of mine, when my horse became frightened and ran -away, throwing us both out. The accident happened -about a mile back, and I carried the young girl in my -arms, hoping to find a doctor somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“There is one in the house and he has already -gone to her assistance,” they told him.</p> - -<p>“Tell him to save her life at whatever cost. I -would give my own life to save that girl,” he cried -anxiously, causing a sympathetic smile all around.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[35]</span></p> - -<p>No one blamed him, for one look at Berry’s lovely -face seemed to them sufficient excuse for the greatest -devotion.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile they found Bonair needing attention, -also, for his injured foot was rapidly swelling and -causing pain. The doctor came in presently and gave -it the necessary attention, saying that his patient was -reviving, and would presently be herself again, he -hoped. There were some superficial bruises, but he -hoped there was no internal injury.</p> - -<p>“Thank Heaven!” cried Bonair fervently, pressing a -roll of bills into the physician’s hand, while he added:</p> - -<p>“If a covered vehicle can be had, I would like to -take the young girl home to her mother, who may be -uneasy at her delay.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear sir, that will be most imprudent; I -should not like my patient to be moved until to-morrow. -As for you, you might send word to her mother -to come here.”</p> - -<p>The young fellow shrank a little. He wondered how -Mrs. Vining would take the news. He would doubtless -get a sound berating from the old woman.</p> - -<p>“But I have fully deserved it, and I will take my -punishment like a man,” he thought grimly, and ordered -the vehicle to be got ready quickly.</p> - -<p>“There is a terrible storm raging—it is equinoctial<span class="pagenum">[36]</span> -weather, you know. Better wait till it clears up,” they -said.</p> - -<p>“No, I will not wait, if a man can be found to -drive me. That poor mother will be very anxious,” -he answered firmly.</p> - -<p>In the teeth of the driving storm they set forth, but -Charley Bonair never reached his destination.</p> - -<p>The driver, a sulky-looking fellow, who had observed -Bonair’s display of money at the inn, as well as -his diamond ring, assaulted and robbed his passenger -on the way to town, and left him for dead upon the -highway.</p> - -<p>When found the next morning, there was indeed but -little life left in him—not enough to recognize any -one, or to remember aught that had happened. Life -became a blank to him for many days.</p> - -<p>The return of his horse to the stable with the fragments -of the trap clinging to the harness told what -had happened to him, and no one suspected that a -beautiful young girl had been his companion on that -mad ride.</p> - -<p>He could not speak and tell the story, for he lay ill -and unconscious many days, and none guessed that the -strange and continued disappearance of Berry Vining -lay at his door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[37]</span></p> - -<p>The mother herself had found a plausible reason for -her daughter’s absence.</p> - -<p>She believed that Berry had fled in anger over their -quarrel that night, dreading lest she should be coerced -into a marriage with the merchant tailor.</p> - -<p>“We had a quarrel, and I believe she ran away in -a fret. No, I don’t think she has committed suicide. -Berry wasn’t that kind of a girl,” she said, adding -hopefully, “she has maybe gone and got a situation in -a store in New York, and will write to me when she -gets over her mad spell.”</p> - -<p>The neighbors accepted this view of the matter, and -no one could gainsay it. Mrs. Vining’s misfortunes -with her children were an old story! She was always -bewailing the disappearance of her handsome son by -a former marriage: a son who had deserted her and -gone none knew where.</p> - -<p>Berry did not return, and no tidings came of her, -but the deserted mother kept on at her work in patient -sadness, hoping and praying for the welfare -of her headstrong child, though too poor to make a -search for the truant.</p> - -<p>Thus the hand of Fate abruptly closed the first -chapter in the acquaintance of Charley Bonair and the -pretty village maid.</p> - -<p>For when he recovered memory and consciousness<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> -far into October, they told him weeks had elapsed -since he had been thrown from his trap and nearly -killed, and that only the most skillful nursing had -saved his life.</p> - -<p>No one could answer the mute question in his eyes, -for the secret of that night had never transpired, -though he wondered how it had been so, saying to himself -that Berry was a girl in a thousand to have held -her tongue over such an accident.</p> - -<p>“It is better so,” he said to himself, in keen relief, -yet he resolved he would write her a note of thanks, -which he hastily did, only to get it returned with the -information that Miss Vining was gone away.</p> - -<p>When cautious inquiries brought out the reputed -facts of her disappearance, he was dazed with wonder. -He made a secret trip to the old inn, but he -found it closed and uninhabited.</p> - -<p>It was a very bad moment that came just then to -handsome, reckless Charley Bonair.</p> - -<p>He was terrified at the mysterious disappearance of -the winsome little beauty. He asked himself in an -agony what had been her fate, cursing himself for -having left her at the inn that night.</p> - -<p>“What did I know of those people there? How -dared I leave her unprotected among them? Judging -from the fellow that robbed and nearly murdered<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> -me that night, the whole gang must have been rough -and dangerous. Ah, little one, what has been your -cruel fate?” he groaned to himself, tormented by the -mystery that was so hard to fathom, because he dared -not make any public hue and cry through fear of -betraying Berry’s wild ride with him that, if known, -must inevitably compromise her in every one’s eyes, -despite her innocence.</p> - -<p>The upshot of it all was that he went, privately, -to a detective, and saying nothing of his real purpose, -employed him to find out where the people had gone -who kept the inn.</p> - -<p>The owner of the house was found, and reported -that the tenant, an old man, had died of apoplexy -a month before. His servants were scattered and -could not be found.</p> - -<p>The identity of the theatrical troupe was next inquired -into, and soon learned to be the Janice James -Company. They could not be traced now, only in so -far as that they had disbanded and scattered, some -joining other companies, others going back to their -homes, so that Bonair’s next move through the detective -was to offer a reward through the personal -columns of the New York papers for information regarding -any member of the troupe. But weeks elapsed -without bringing any reply.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[40]</span></p> - -<p>Not even to the detective did Bonair confide his -real motive for his quest. A new respect and tenderness -for the girl he had tried to trifle with filled -his mind, and made him as tenacious of her good name -as if she had been his sister or his wife.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[41]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A SUSPECTED RIVAL.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“You may laugh at me for a superstitious girl, -mamma,” declared beautiful Rosalind Montague, “but -I shall always believe that postponements in love are -ill-omened. Ever since the night of the lawn fête, when -my lover failed to appear, and the fête was broken up -by the sudden rainstorm that drenched all our pretty -gowns, I have seen that something has gone wrong -between Charley’s heart and mine. Do you know, -mamma, he has never loved me the same, since his long -illness?”</p> - -<p>“Just your fancy, dear. To me it seems that he is -yet ill and nervous after his terrible experience with -his runaway horse that night. I have seen him start -and turn pale when no one was speaking, as if from -ghastly thoughts.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, mamma, perfectly true, and he -shudders sometimes when I barely touch his hand, and -he is cold as ice to me, mamma, cold as ice. He seldom -comes here, only when I send for him, and he -never alludes to our engagement. Do you believe that -his illness can have dazed his brain, that he can have -forgotten?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[42]</span></p> - -<p>“It may be so—who can tell?” cried the proud old -lady in velvet and diamonds. “I would sound him -gently on the subject, Rosalind.”</p> - -<p>“But, mamma, I should not know what to say, how -to begin,” exclaimed the girl, with a slight blush.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that is easy enough, dear—all roads lead to -Rome! Ask him if he has any preference where to -spend the honeymoon, or how long he is willing to -wait until the wedding—or if he does not think your -engagement ring is a little too loose—anything!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, mamma, I’ll stir him up somehow, for -at present he is a very unsatisfactory lover. It almost -looks as if I have a rival!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nonsense, dear, who could rival beautiful Rosalind -Montague, the belle of her set, who won the millionaire’s -son from a whole bevy of conspiring mammas -and daughters!”</p> - -<p>Rosalind smiled complacently at the flattery, and -glanced at her reflection in the tall pier glass—a fair -reflection, indeed, of a stately blonde with masses of -flax-golden hair and large, blue eyes that could soften -with love or flash with anger till they looked like points -of blue steel. This delicate beauty, appropriately -gowned in rich attire, had indeed made Rosalind the -belle of her set, “the rose that all were praising.”</p> - -<p>It was the most natural thing in the world for<span class="pagenum">[43]</span> -Charley Bonair to fall victim to her charms, even if -his pretty sisters, her schoolmates, had not conspired -to bring it about, artfully throwing them together, -ably abetted by Rosalind and her scheming mamma.</p> - -<p>He was one of the greatest catches in fashionable society—the -only son of the millionaire senator, and although -Madam Rumor said ungracious things of him—that -he was dissipated, profligate, libertine—what of -that? He would inherit several of his father’s millions, -and could cover his wife with diamonds if he -wished, so one must overlook the spots on the sun! -Rosalind knew that she could not get a perfect husband.</p> - -<p>To do the pretty Bonair girls justice, they were -eager for the match, because they believed that marriage -would reform their brother. And who so suitable -a bride as Rosalind, their school friend, well-born, -well dowered, beautiful, queenly, and secretly -adoring the handsome prodigal!</p> - -<p>So, among them all, they set a snare for Charley, -and tripped him up. His battered heart succumbed -easily. Rosalind had scored a triumph over all the -beauties! Both families were charmed, and looked -eagerly forward to the wedding day.</p> - -<p>Right here was where Charley failed in loverlike -duty, for he neglected to ask his betrothed to set the<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> -wedding day, apparently quite satisfied to make it a -long engagement.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Montague was not altogether pleased at his -lukewarmness. To offset it, she planned the lawn -fête to announce the betrothal. When the fact became -public property, he must name the day.</p> - -<p>We have seen how fate stepped in between and foiled -their plans, and how the ominous shadow of that -night’s disappointment hung over Rosalind’s ambitious -hopes.</p> - -<p>“What has put this notion of a rival in your head, -dear girl?” continued the mother curiously.</p> - -<p>Rosalind hesitated a moment, and a cold, angry glitter -shone in her eyes, as she whispered:</p> - -<p>“Mamma, of course I know the hard things that are -said of Charley—that he is fond of cards, women, and -wine. Well, I happen to know that the very day of our -fête, even by my very side, my lover was attracted -by a new beauty, and could not hide his admiration.”</p> - -<p>“A new beauty—who?” demanded Mrs. Montague -uneasily.</p> - -<p>“You will be startled, mamma, but you will see that -I am not jealous without a cause. Listen,” and Rosalind -poured out the story of the morning ride when -Charley Bonair had bowed to and admired little Berry -Vining.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> - -<p>“He said, to my very face, that she was the prettiest -girl he ever saw, but I told him how poor and humble -she was, and ridiculed his fancy. I found out afterward -that he rode back from my side to the florist’s, -and sent her a great bunch of red roses. Was not that -enough to make any engaged girl angry and jealous, -mamma?”</p> - -<p>“I must admit you are quite right, darling. Oh, -what wretches men are!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed, and naturally after that I was jealous -and suspicious. When he did not come that night I -was almost wild, wondering if I was deserted already -for the little village beauty. I did not sleep that night -for anger and grief, though I was too proud to tell -you until now, when I can no longer bear my trouble -alone, because I am haunted always by two torturing -questions.”</p> - -<p>“What are they, my love?”</p> - -<p>“One is this, mamma: ‘What became of that girl -when she disappeared so suddenly from home that -night? And—did Charley Bonair know anything of -her flight?’”</p> - -<p>“You suspect him of treachery?”</p> - -<p>“Have I not cause? How strangely she fled from -home! How lame were her old mother’s guesses at -the truth! No girl could be forced to marry a rich<span class="pagenum">[46]</span> -old man against her will. Then again, mamma, how -strange that Charley should be taking a ride miles out -into the country that night, when he was overdue at -our fête, where he was to be the guest of honor.”</p> - -<p>“You talk like a detective, Rosalind.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, mamma, do not ridicule me,” the girl clasped -her white hands, imploringly. “Think how much I -love him, how much I have at stake! I have puzzled -out all this in torturing nights when I could not sleep -for jealous pain.”</p> - -<p>The proud woman of the world looked at her beautiful -daughter, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. Stifling -it with a sarcastic smile, she answered:</p> - -<p>“It is the way of the world, my dear; men are -wicked, and women are weak. It may be as you suspect, -that he had a fancy for the girl, but you need not -worry over that; you are the one he will marry, and -he will tire of her and put her aside before your wedding -day.”</p> - -<p>“But, mamma, I hate her! I would gladly see her -dead, the little hussy! How dare she accept his love, -knowing, as all the town knows, that he belongs to -me! And who would have believed such a thing of -little Berry Vining, who seemed such a good, innocent -little thing!”</p> - -<p>“Those good little girls like Berry are just the ones<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> -to be deceived and ruined by designing men, child. -But put it out of your thoughts, love, do. We cannot -alter the world nor mankind, and all I can say -to you is that it’s better not to brood over imaginary -troubles. Bonair shall marry you, darling, never fear.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[48]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">LOVED AND HATED.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Time put his sickles in among the days,” and the -weeks slipped away and brought winter weather.</p> - -<p>But long before the first snow, Charley Bonair had -gone away from New Market, ostensibly for a yachting -trip with some of his bachelor friends, leaving -Rosalind piqued and angry.</p> - -<p>For when she had asked him point-blank how long -he wanted to wait before the wedding, he had answered -debonairly, that she might take all the time she -wanted. He guessed that both were young enough to -wait a while. Anyhow, he wanted to have this bachelor -trip with the boys before he thrust his neck into the -matrimonial noose!</p> - -<p>Rosalind, secretly furious at his indifference, was on -the point of telling him to go and stay forever, but she -bit the tip of her rosy tongue, keeping back the sharp -retort, and half sobbed instead:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley, I shall miss you so!”</p> - -<p>“I should hate to think that you were lonely, dear, -but I don’t believe you will be, for Lucile and Marie -intend to have you with them in California for the -winter months, after Christmas. Will you go?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p> - -<p>“Gladly, if you will promise to join us there when -you come back.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a bargain,” he answered, laughing, but none -of her entreaties could prevail on him to fix the date -of his return.</p> - -<p>He did not really know, he said. It would depend on -the other fellows. Meanwhile she was to enjoy herself -in her own way; he would not find fault nor get -jealous!</p> - -<p>When he had gone away, she loved and hated him -by turns, and she was more than ever sure that Berry -Vining had stolen his heart.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if I could find her, and were quite, quite sure -of her guilt, I would wreak a bitter vengeance,” she -murmured angrily, to the silent walls of her luxurious -chamber.</p> - -<p>She would have given anything to know the whereabouts -of the girl she believed to be her rival.</p> - -<p>It nearly maddened her to think that Charley might -be seeing her daily, basking in her smiles, laughing -with her, perhaps, over the deferred wedding. Her -hatred of the young girl grew each day, until it became -a passion for revenge.</p> - -<p>“My day will come! Let her look to herself, that -day!” she vowed bitterly.</p> - -<p>She went one day to the cottage on pretense of getting<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> -a cloth suit pressed, and with pretended sympathy, -asked Mrs. Vining if she had ever had any news -of the missing girl.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Vining wept as she declared that she had never -heard any news of her daughter.</p> - -<p>“She may be dead and buried for aught I know -to the contrary, Miss Montague.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps she has eloped with a lover,” cried Rosalind, -but the old woman frowned, and answered -quickly:</p> - -<p>“My girl was as pure and high-minded as the richest -young lady in the land, miss, and she would never stoop -to disgrace.”</p> - -<p>“I hope it may prove so, indeed!” exclaimed Rosalind, -from the depths of her jealous heart, and she -went away, promising to send her maid with the tailor -gown to be pressed.</p> - -<p>The little cottage with the morning-glory vines all -dead, looked dreary and deserted, and poverty-stricken; -but poor as it was, the good widow could barely pay -the rent. Rosalind could not help but think, as she -walked away, that it was a poor setting for the lovely -girl who had fled away from it rather than exchange it -for the gilded misery of a loveless marriage, such as -her mother had proposed.</p> - -<p>One thing she had told Mrs. Vining earnestly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[51]</span></p> - -<p>“If you hear from your daughter, be sure and let -me know, and I will make it worth your while. I take -a deep interest in little Berry, you know.”</p> - -<p>Aye, the interest of the hawk in the dove, proud -beauty! The mother curtsied in gratitude, and thanked -her for her kindness.</p> - -<p>And just before Christmas she was startled to receive -a note from the tailoress, saying she had heard -from her little girl at last. She had run away to -be an actress, because life in New Jersey was too -dull and lonely. She had sent her mother a little -money and a pretty picture of herself, and begged her -not to be angry, but she was touring in California now, -and it would be a long time before she came home -again.</p> - -<p>“In California—Charley’s own State. It looks suspicious,” -muttered Rosalind, and she went over to the -cottage to visit Mrs. Vining again.</p> - -<p>But she did not find out anything more, for the letter -had been mailed on a train, and Berry failed, perhaps -by design, to tell her destination, adding in a -postscript:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“I don’t ask you to write me, because I am always -‘on the go,’ but I have means you do not guess, of -sometimes hearing of your welfare.”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[52]</span></p> - -<p>“It is through him,” Rosalind thought bitterly, but -she concealed her agitation, and congratulated the -widow, prettily, on having heard from her daughter. -Then promising to send her a handsome Christmas -gift, she took leave.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair would have given thousands of dollars -to know even what Rosalind had heard about -Berry; for he had begun to mourn her as dead, and -remorse stung like a serpent in his heart.</p> - -<p>Always remembering that the man from the inn, -who had robbed and tried to murder him, belonged -to those people, he had decided they must all be cut-throats -and robbers, and that Berry had most likely -met her death at their hands.</p> - -<p>With a heavy heart he landed from the yacht at San -Francisco, deciding he would join his family there, -and little dreaming the surprise awaiting him.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[53]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">BLUE EYES AND BROWN.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Senator Bonair’s palatial home in the magnificent -city of San Francisco was ablaze with light and gayety -that night.</p> - -<p>Though the millionaire owner himself was absent, in -attendance on the session of Congress at Washington, -his two handsome daughters, with their aunt, who -chaperoned them since the death of their mother, had -preferred remaining at home this winter, and were entertaining -a house party. On this night they were -giving a grand ball, and neither time nor money had -been spared to make it a great success.</p> - -<p>To make it more notable, the dancing was to be -preceded by a theatrical treat, a play given by actors -employed for the occasion. The private theater of the -mansion had been refitted for the event, and a superb -orchestra engaged.</p> - -<p>To add to the pleasure of the evening, the manager -assured his employers that an entirely new play would -be given—one written by a member of his own company, -a lovely young girl, who would herself play the -leading part in her clever production, “A Wayside -Flower.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[54]</span></p> - -<p>All the invited guests were on the qui vive, for the -entertainments of the Bonairs always surpassed any -other given in the city, and hundreds of hearts of gay -young girls and happy swains fluttered in anticipation.</p> - -<p>As the time approached for the curtain to rise, not -a seat in the small theater was vacant. Exquisite ball -gowns and jewels gleamed everywhere, while the bright -eyes of their wearers flashed upon their black-coated -companions with swift coquetry.</p> - -<p>Conspicuous among all, in a gown of white lace -over azure satin, with rare pearls clasping her slender -throat, and binding her thick waves of flax-gold hair, -was Rosalind Montague, the honored guest of the -house, the betrothed of the senator’s only son.</p> - -<p>Rosalind had never looked more beautiful, and one -who was gazing at her from an obscure seat, an uninvited, -unexpected guest, could not help but acknowledge -it in his heart with a thrill of pride.</p> - -<p>“Poor Rosy, I don’t see why I cannot love her better! -She will make a bride to be proud of when I conclude -to settle down and become a benedict.”</p> - -<p>Why was it, as he gazed at her brilliant blue eyes -and sunny hair, that dark brown eyes and curly chestnut -locks came between him and Rosalind so persistently? -Why would not memory down, when it was -torture to remember!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[55]</span></p> - -<p>She never could be his, the little brown-eyed cottage -maiden, who had scorned him for his light love, -and flung his roses back into his face. How the -thorns had stung, as well as the lash of her little -tongue, as she had berated him so soundly. Then when -she had flung herself so desperately from his vehicle -to almost certain death, could he ever forget that tragic -hour? He stifled a groan, and shrank back farther into -the shade of the tall palm near the door, where he -had slipped into an irregular seat not in the rows. Oh, -Heaven, what had been the mystery of her fate? -Since he could not fathom it, why could he not forget? -He must forget, he vowed, passionately to himself, -for by and by, when he became Rosalind’s husband, -it would be a sin to his blue-eyed bride for those haunting -brown orbs to come between.</p> - -<p>When he landed first in the city a whim had made -him go first to a hotel, where, hearing of the entertainment -going on at home, he had gotten himself into -evening dress and arrived at the last moment, when his -sisters, already in the box with Rosalind and other -guests, were waiting, momently, for the curtain to -rise on the first act in the play. It would not do to -interrupt them now. Greetings must wait.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, they were not missing him. Several men -were in the box with them, giving attention and receiving<span class="pagenum">[56]</span> -it. He remembered he had told Rosalind he -should not care how much she flirted, and she was -taking him at his word.</p> - -<p>The blue eyes as they looked upward to the dark-eyed -man bending so eagerly to them, were very tender -and languishing, and many a lover might have been -jealous, but Charley Bonair was not conscious of a -pang. Although he felt a certain pride and sense of -proprietorship in her beauty, he did not mind the other -fellow’s palpable admiration.</p> - -<p>The chief thing that worried him now was that he -was haunted by other eyes—brown eyes, soft with -love, brown eyes, flashing with anger, always brown -eyes! “Eyes it were wiser by far to forget.”</p> - -<p>Again he stifled a long-drawn sigh, and glanced at -the curtain, for the blare of the orchestra had begun, -and presently the play would be on. He remembered -just then to look at the elegant program the usher -had thrust into his hand.</p> - -<p>He had barely time to see that the play was entitled -“A Wayside Flower,” when the orchestra ceased, and -the curtain rolled up, showing the first scene.</p> - -<p>He caught his breath with a gasp, and rubbed his -eyes with a bewildered hand, then looked again to see -if his vision had played him false.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[57]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A TRAGEDY OF LOVE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>One easily guesses that “A Wayside Flower” was -the story of a young girl—beautiful, but poor.</p> - -<p>The rich hero’s fancy turned from his betrothed, -the proud beauty, his equal in wealth and station, to the -simple village maiden.</p> - -<p>With all the arts of love he wooed her for his own.</p> - -<p>When the maiden, pure as snow, turned in grief and -anger from the proffer of the heart without the hand, -he deceived her by a mock marriage, swearing her to -keep the secret.</p> - -<p>In the distant village, where they spent their blissful -honeymoon, she somehow discovered through a -letter he had dropped that he was betrothed to another, -and the wedding day set.</p> - -<p>Undreaming of treachery, yet grieved for her hapless -rival’s sorrow, <em>Daisy</em> reproached her young husband -for his flirtations, and insisted on his writing -at once to the young girl to break off as gently as possible -the engagement he could never now fulfill.</p> - -<p>Carelessly assenting, <em>Chester</em> wrote the letter under -<em>Daisy’s</em> eyes, sealed and addressed it, and pretended -to have her post it to make sure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[58]</span></p> - -<p>But he had cunningly slipped quite another sort of -letter into the envelope, and destroyed the one she -had seen him write.</p> - -<p>By and by came the time when he must leave her -alone and return to his home, lest his rich father disinherit -him on finding out the truth of his marriage -to the village beauty.</p> - -<p>He never returned.</p> - -<p>For a while came letters filled with love and devotion, -and always inclosing money for the little wife.</p> - -<p>Weary months slipped away, and brought the winter -snows. The deserted bride fell ill, and besought her -husband to return to her side.</p> - -<p>Blank silence fell. No more letters, no more money.</p> - -<p>In the simple cottage where she boarded, the people -began to hint at desertion. The villainous son showed -her loverlike attentions.</p> - -<p>When <em>Daisy</em> repulsed him in anger he showed her -a letter from her husband that broke her heart.</p> - -<p><em>Chester</em> had written to the villain that the girl was -not his wife. He had deceived her by a mock marriage. -Now he was weary of her, and would see her -no more. In fact, he was about to go abroad for years, -and if he, the villain, would marry the girl, he would -pay him handsomely to keep the whole thing quiet.</p> - -<p>For the sake of her beauty and the bribe he was<span class="pagenum">[59]</span> -offered, this poor apology for manhood was ready to -make <em>Daisy</em> an honest wife, but when she refused -him with biting scorn he made his weak mother thrust -her into the street, homeless and penniless in the winter’s -snow.</p> - -<p><em>Daisy</em> pawned her simple jewels and journeyed back -to her deserted home and widowed mother, praying -only to die under the roof that had sheltered her -childhood and girlhood.</p> - -<p>Then she heard that there was to be a grand wedding -up at the hall that night. Her false lover was -about to wed the beautiful heiress, his social equal, -his chosen mate.</p> - -<p>Poor little <em>Daisy</em> had been plucked as carelessly as a -wayside flower, and thrown aside to die.</p> - -<p>The poor old mother, half crazed by her daughter’s -shame and despair, cried bitterly:</p> - -<p>“You have only yourself to blame, girl! I brought -you up to shun rich young men; I told you they had -no use for poor girls but to wreck their lives. You -would not believe what I told you, you laughed at my -warnings, and fled with the villain that ruined you. -Now you have returned to drag out a wretched existence -under the ban of scorn, while he goes scot-free -and weds another!”</p> - -<p>The wretched <em>Daisy</em> knew that it was all true. She<span class="pagenum">[60]</span> -shut herself into her room, and brooded over her trouble -till her brain went wild.</p> - -<p>In the evening she came down to her mother, calm -with the calmness of a great despair.</p> - -<p>“I have thought it all over, dear mother,” she said -gently. “I did wrong to come back to you in my trouble; -because you warned me and I would not listen. So -I have no right to stay here and cloud your life with -my shame and sorrow. I am going away forever. -Good-by, dear mother. Say that you forgive me before -I die!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, child? Where are you going? -What is this wild talk of dying? Come back, <em>Daisy</em>; -mother will forgive you,” cried the poor mother, but -<em>Daisy</em> had fled through the door out into the cold moonlight, -shining on a world that was white with snow.</p> - -<p>“I must follow and bring her back. I scolded her -too harshly,” the mother cried, snatching her bonnet -and hastening after her child.</p> - -<p>But her poor, rheumatic limbs could not keep pace -with <em>Daisy’s</em> flying feet. She could not overtake her -in time to prevent the tragedy.</p> - -<p>The bridal cortège was moving out from the gates -of the hall, and some little children belonging to the -tenant were throwing flowers in front of the bridal<span class="pagenum">[61]</span> -carriage as it started toward the church where the -fashionable throng was waiting.</p> - -<p>The clear moonlight and lamplight showed <em>Chester’s</em> -face plain as day, as he sat by the side of the -bride.</p> - -<p>With a cry of reproach and despair that shrilled to -heaven, <em>Daisy</em> darted into the road, and flung herself -under the horses’ feet.</p> - -<p>But <em>Chester</em>, sitting there, pale and handsome, on his -way to his wedding, had seen that lovely face upraised -to heaven as she darted forward, had heard that -terrible cry, and it pierced his false heart like an arrow.</p> - -<p>He gave an answering cry, and tearing open the carriage -door, as the vehicle swayed under the driver’s -frantic efforts to throw the horses back on their -haunches, he sprang out and strove to tear <em>Daisy</em> from -under their desperate hoofs.</p> - -<p>The maddened animals dragged the reins from the -driver’s hands, and their steel-clad hoofs came down -with a dull thud upon <em>Chester’s</em> and <em>Daisy’s</em> bodies as -they writhed on the ground.</p> - -<p>It all passed more quickly than one could describe -it, and almost before the people in the next carriage -knew that anything was happening the ill-fated pair -were drawn from their terrible position, crushed and -dying.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[62]</span></p> - -<p>The frightened bride, reckless of her white gown -and slippers, sprang out into the snow.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what has happened?” she cried, in wild alarm.</p> - -<p>Then she saw <em>Chester</em> prone upon the ground, with -blood streaming from a cut in his head down over his -pallid face, while he held to his heart the slight figure -of an unconscious girl. The bride knew the pale face -instantly. It was the little cottage maiden, who had -eloped with a mysterious lover whose identity no one -knew.</p> - -<p>“Oh, <em>Chester</em>, what does this mean? What has happened -to you?” demanded the bride wildly, and turning -his heavy eyes on her face, he groaned:</p> - -<p>“<em>Geraldine</em>, I have sacrificed my life to save this -poor girl!”</p> - -<p>“Why did you do it? What is she to you?” fiercely.</p> - -<p>Like an arrow from a bow straight to her heart came -his answer:</p> - -<p>“The truth is cruel to you, <em>Geraldine</em>, but I feel that -I am dying, so I must make a full confession. I deceived -this poor girl with a mock marriage, then deserted -her, returning to make you my lawful bride. -Realizing her despair, she has returned and chosen to -die beneath my horses’ feet. I have given my life -vainly in the effort to save poor little <em>Daisy</em>.”</p> - -<p><em>Geraldine</em> realized that people were crowding round<span class="pagenum">[63]</span> -about her, that the white face of the “best man” was -close to hers, his arms shielding her from falling to -the ground, but she kept her eyes glued on that pale, -dying face, and her ears strained not to lose a sound -of that weak, dying voice.</p> - -<p>“<em>Geraldine</em>,” he faltered on, “I meant to marry you -for wealth and position, but in my heart I loved <em>Daisy</em> -best. I was not worthy of your love, but I pray you -to forgive me, and to see that I am buried by the side -of the girl who was my wife in the sight of Heaven.”</p> - -<p>He had thought little <em>Daisy</em> dead, but suddenly her -dim eyes flared open and rested adoringly on his face. -Her dulled hearing had caught words that made her -ineffably happy.</p> - -<p>“Darling!” he muttered brokenly.</p> - -<p>The best man stifled <em>Geraldine’s</em> cry of rage with a -daring hand upon her lips.</p> - -<p>“Forgive him, dear, you shall not miss him,” he -whispered tenderly. “Do you remember how we loved -each other before that lovers’ quarrel, when he came -between? Now you know he was unworthy, let us -begin again, dear. Tell him you forgive and will do -his will.”</p> - -<p><em>Geraldine</em> trembled at the warm touch of his hand, -and bending over <em>Chester</em>, gave the promise he asked.</p> - -<p>“I forgive you; you shall rest side by side,” she faltered,<span class="pagenum">[64]</span> -not a minute too soon, for in another moment -the lovers were both dead, clasped in each other’s -arms.</p> - -<p>The first scene in “A Wayside Flower” showed -the heroine singing a love song at a window wreathed -in morning glories, and as Bonair gazed in wondering -agitation, he saw that the singer’s face was that of -little Berry Vining!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[65]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE CURTAIN FALLS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Clever little Berry had taken the one romantic chapter -out of her own life’s history and made a romance -out of it, such as her sad heart and simple experience -prompted—a trite little story enough, save for its tragic -ending.</p> - -<p>And as she had considerable histrionic ability, she -was able to take the leading part with much credit to -herself, winning enthusiastic applause from her audience.</p> - -<p>She could not have acted so cleverly had she known -under whose roof she was, and what eyes were gazing -on her lovely face as she entered with whole-souled -spirit into her part.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair stood apart to Berry in a little world -of his own. She scarcely connected him with the millionaire -senator of California, and his lovely sisters -she had never seen. It was only the home of a stranger -to her, this palatial house where she had come with -her company to act for the pleasure of the ball guests.</p> - -<p>Life had been a whirl to Berry Vining since the -night when she had been carried senseless into the -company of actors, who, charmed by her exquisite<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> -beauty, had easily persuaded her to join them on the -road. Gifted with much natural dramatic talent, she -had quickly “caught on” to the art, and now earned -a subsistence by her work. In this arduous life, too, -she could more easily put from her the memory of her -shattered love dream, so brief, so bitter-sweet.</p> - -<p>Yet in quiet moments it returned to vex her soul, -so that she wove the beginning into a story of love and -sorrow that grew and grew until her morbid fancy -shaped it into a tragic romance.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the death of the leading lady gave Berry -her position, and she had a chance to act her romance -on the boards of the Bonairs’ private theater.</p> - -<p>It was easy to put her heart in it so wholly that the -audience seemed to her like so many lay figures, and -she dreamed not that Charley Bonair’s eyes watched -her, eagerly, from far back at the door, where an artificial -palm half hid him from sight, while from a -prominent box Rosalind Montague gazed in startled -wonder, almost as if Berry had risen from the dead.</p> - -<p>For it must be the little village beauty, the coincidence -was too striking to admit of a doubt.</p> - -<p>There sat the girl singing at the vine-wreathed -window, just as on that September morning, when the -gay cavalcade of riders went past, and Charley Bonair -had turned her curly little head with his flashing glance<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> -and bow—singing, too, the same sweet lay of love and -longing:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">“My heart with joy would thrill if you loved me, -</div><div class="indent0">’Twould give this life of mine its fill of ecstasy; -</div><div class="indent0">Each golden moment spent with you on wings of Joy would flee; -</div><div class="indent0">The sky would be a ceaseless blue if you loved me.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>The gift of the roses followed next, and as Rosalind -saw the fair girl in her white gown kissing the flowers, -and fastening them in her hair and breast, she trembled -with anger and jealousy.</p> - -<p>“The little minx! She has dared make a play out -of her silly flirtation with Charley,” she thought; “she -dares even to play it in his own home, hoping to meet -his eyes again, but, thank Heaven, he is far enough -away from here, he will never know.”</p> - -<p>If a look could have killed pretty Berry, she must -surely have fallen dead upon the boards, so deadly was -the hatred with which Rosalind watched her, for she -thought:</p> - -<p>“It is just as I suspected between Charley and her, -the little hussy! He eloped with her, and, perhaps, was -with her until he went on that yachting trip to shake -off her fetters. It is doubtful if there was even any -pretense of a marriage between them. No doubt she -was eager enough to go without a wedding ring, thinking -of the money she could cajole out of her rich lover.<span class="pagenum">[68]</span> -Oh, I see just how it is now! She is very clever, this -Berry Vining—she came here trying to win him back, -thinking he may have got home again! Oh, how glad -I am he is still away, for he would easily fall into her -toils if he were here, the weak fool, carried away by -every pretty face! How well she acts! I never -dreamed it was in that cottage girl, such cleverness in -writing a play, and then acting it. She is indeed a rival -to be dreaded, and I must do something to get rid of -her, that is clear. Even if Charley tired of her once, -he would love her again in this pretty play that shows -her off to so great advantage! Oh, what wretches men -are, as mamma says! How they make a girl’s heart -ache with jealousy over their fickle love! If I did not -love him myself, I would not care so much, but he’s -all the world to me, my Charley! What shall I do to -get rid of her before he returns to the city? If mamma -were here she would tell me not to mind, that it could -never come to aught but a light love. But I do mind; -I will not endure his unfaithfulness! If I thought no -one could even find me out, I believe I could almost -strike her dead before me, I hate her with such intense -fury!”</p> - -<p>“Rosy, how strange you look! You are pale, and -your eyes gleam with blue fire. The poor girl’s trouble -seems to be getting onto your nerves! But she is<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> -really a very clever actress, and enters well into the -part,” exclaimed Marie Bonair, with a suddenness that -made her start and tremble.</p> - -<p>But she rallied herself, and murmured back:</p> - -<p>“It’s really quite thrilling, and I almost forgot where -I was, dear. This was the third act, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I’m almost sorry; I have been so interested. -Every one else is, too. See how eagerly they -keep their eyes on the stage. Our play was a great -success. Well, we will soon come to the banquet, and -then the dancing. Do you know that we have spread -an elegant collation for the actors, too, in the small -dining room?”</p> - -<p>“How very nice of you, Marie!” murmured Rosalind, -but to herself she added viciously:</p> - -<p>“I wish I could poison that girl’s wine undetected! I -wish some of the stage properties would get on fire -and destroy her beauty, anyway. Oh, anything that -could happen to that girl would be welcome to me, so -that he never saw her face again.”</p> - -<p>The fell spirit of murder had entered the jealous -girl’s heart!</p> - -<p>The curtain rose again on the fourth act, and although -the introduction of horses on the stage was -a very difficult feat, still it was quite well done. The -lovers died, gracefully, in each other’s arms, and the<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> -widowed bride clung fondly to the attentive best man. -In the vernacular of one of the troupe, the play had -been a “howling success.” The company was called -back to receive the plaudits of the spectators, and the -audience rose at the leading lady with enthusiasm, pelting -the little beauty with flowers and jewels.</p> - -<p>But one man far back in the theater, hurried away -with his hat before his face.</p> - -<p>“I hope no one has recognized me, for I really am not -fit to join my people to-night. I must get away and -collect my thoughts,” muttered Charley Bonair.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A PHANTOM AT DAWN.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“An Indian seeress in an alcove off the western corridor -will tell everybody’s fortune.”</p> - -<p>The whisper ran from lip to lip at the banquet table, -where the players were being feasted and wined by the -hospitable Bonairs.</p> - -<p>The gay, impressionable people of the troupe were -charmed with the idea, and when they left the table -they went en masse to the alcove, chaperoned by the -housekeeper, who under orders from her mistress was -doing the honors.</p> - -<p>As they were admitted one by one to the alcove, the -others, waiting in the magnificent corridor lined with -tall palms, statues, and pictures, strolled about, peering -into rooms and admiring the splendor of the palace -where they were for the moment sojourners.</p> - -<p>The housekeeper, a portly, loquacious woman, kept -by Berry’s side, having conceived a liking for the lovely -actress.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to see the folks dancing in the -grand ballroom for a minute or two? Come, then, I’ll -give you a peep,” she said, leading the willing girl -quietly away from the others.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[72]</span></p> - -<p>The next thing they were out of doors, going along -a quiet alleyway bordered with fragrant blossoming -trees, and the sound of dance music came to them in a -wild blare of melody.</p> - -<p>“Here now, look in at this window,” whispered the -woman.</p> - -<p>Berry looked, and gasped:</p> - -<p>“It must be fairyland!”</p> - -<p>“’Tis grand, ain’t it, now?” replied the housekeeper. -She watched Berry’s dazed eyes taking in the immense -room with its costly fitting, tropical decorations, and -dazzling lights under which moved a hundred couples -in each other’s arms, to the tilt of the intoxicating waltz -music, and smiled at the young girl’s wonder.</p> - -<p>“These Bonairs, you see, miss,” she explained, “are -the richest folks in California—what you call multi-millionaires—more -money than they know what to do -with! I’ve been housekeeper to them these twenty-five -years. I came when they were first married. I was -here when the senator’s three children were born, and -when his good wife died, and I expect to be here till I -die. Have you ever seen any of the Bonairs?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, never!” Berry answered absently, and the -woman clacked on:</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll point them out to you if they come in -sight. See that fat lady, with the velvet gown and diamonds,<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> -and the white pompadour? That is old Madam -Fortescue, the senator’s widowed sister, who chaperoned -his two daughters, Misses Marie and Lucile, -great beauties, both of them, and both engaged to marry -rich New Yorkers. I think they mean to have a double -wedding in the fall. It will be a great affair, you know. -Their brother, Mr. Charley, is engaged, too, to a New -York belle and beauty, and she’s here now, the guest -of the house—Miss Montague! Why, what’s the matter, -miss? You startled so!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing, don’t mind me! Go on, please!” Berry -managed to articulate, feeling as if the earth had -heaved beneath her feet.</p> - -<p>The truth had burst upon her so suddenly that only -by the greatest effort could she keep her self-possession.</p> - -<p>With the utterance of Miss Montague’s name everything -became clear.</p> - -<p>She was under the roof of Charley Bonair!</p> - -<p>She clung with both hands to the window ledge to -hold herself steady, and listened with a dull roar in -her ears, while the woman continued:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Charley, now, he’s away on a long yachting -trip, and dear knows when he will be back. They do -say he is sowing an awful crop of wild oats, poor -boy, but he’s good at heart, so he is. A dearer boy -when he was growing up, I never saw! And that fond<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> -of pets, why he has a fine zoölogical collection on these -grounds here. You wouldn’t believe it, maybe, but he’s -even got two bear pits, miss, and in one of them the -bear has two new cubs. She’s that savage over them, -she would tear you to pieces if you touched one of -them! And birds and smaller animals, now, you’d be -surprised at the number. If you like to come here to-morrow, -I’ll take pleasure in showing you around. The -little bear cubs, my but they are cute! And to hear -Zilla, their mother, growling over them, it’s a wonder!—makes -cold chills run over one, sure enough!”</p> - -<p>“They are running over me now!” gasped Berry, -clutching the woman’s hand with one that was as cold -as ice. “I—I must go. Please take me back to my -friends; they will be going back without me!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, plenty of time, miss—you must stay till you -get your fortune told, sure.”</p> - -<p>“Really, I don’t care. I mean, I’d rather not,” faltered -Berry, trembling all over with a sudden nervous -premonition of evil that shook her like an ague.</p> - -<p>“Ah, don’t be scared at the old fortune teller, dear -miss, she may tell you something pretty,” urged the -good-natured woman, guiding the trembling girl back -to the corridor and the alcove, where the last one was -coming out, and the merry troupe were chattering like -magpies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[75]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, come, Miss Vane, she is waiting for you,” the -gay girls cried, pushing her in, and pulling to the curtains -behind her.</p> - -<p>The horrible old Indian seeress enthroned among -draperies of Eastern tapestries, worth their weight in -gold, and hideous in theatrical red light, clutched the -girl’s white hand, and peering at the rosy palm, began -to mutter a sibilant jargon of fateful words.</p> - -<p>And presently the actress, Vera Vane, who had risen -from the ashes of Berenice Vining, flung aside the draperies -and rushed from her presence, pale as a phantom -at dawn.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[76]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">AN ILL-FATED GIRL.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The merry actors and actresses all began to chaff -Berry on her pale face and frightened eyes.</p> - -<p>“She is actually scared!” “What did the old hag tell -you, dear?” “She gave all of us fine fortunes!” they -chimed in together. But Berry put them aside with a -trembling hand, and sank, half fainting, into the nearest -seat.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hopson, the housekeeper, came to her rescue.</p> - -<p>“Don’t pester the poor child till she gets over her -scare. Land sakes, miss, don’t take that nonsense to -heart, please. Them old Indian squaws don’t know -the future any better than you do!” she said kindly, -but Berry did not hear the well-meant words. She -had fainted.</p> - -<p>When she came to herself she was lying on a cot in -Mrs. Hopson’s room, and all the others were gone.</p> - -<p>“You were so long coming around I told them I’d -keep you all night, or send you back in a carriage when -you felt better,” she explained.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are very kind. I—I think that I will go -presently, when I am a little stronger. But do not<span class="pagenum">[77]</span> -let me, dear Mrs. Hopson, keep you from your duties. -I can lie here alone, please,” faltered Berry eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Very good, my dear miss, for I have many things -to see to to-night, and I’ll be very glad to have you -for my guest till morning,” returned the good woman, -pressing a glass of wine on the young girl, and then -going out with a promise to be back in an hour.</p> - -<p>Left alone, Berry lifted her head and glanced eagerly -at the clock.</p> - -<p>“Midnight—it lacks half an hour to it yet. Oh, must -I keep that strange tryst or not? Am I indeed menaced -by so terrible a fate, and can this old Indian really prevent -the doom by the loan of so singular a charm as she -offers? It seems very foolish, but I have heard my -dear mother and her cronies often reiterate the same -thing—that a person born with a caul over the face—that -is to say, a thin membrane of skin that may be -dried and preserved—is the fortunate possessor of a -charm against drowning—that such a charm may be -bought or loaned, and always proves a safeguard. How -very strange; but there are many things we cannot understand! -And what was it the old fortune teller said -of me? I was fated to die a terrible death by water -in twenty-four hours, unless I could procure such a -charm. She possessed one herself that she would lend -me for one week, when the risk would be over, but she<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> -must first go home and procure it, and she would meet -me in the grounds on the northern walk going to the -private zoo at the stroke of twelve. Shall I go? Is it -worth while living when one is alone in the world as -I am, for all my kindred now living are uncongenial -to me, and there can never be any love story for poor, -deceived Berry, who gave her heart too easily at first, -but can never take it back again?”</p> - -<p>With a bursting sob, the girl pushed back the heavy -locks from her forehead, murmuring on:</p> - -<p>“Can it be true, as that old hag assured me, that my -dear, dear mother is dead? But she read my palm like -an open book. I can see her yet peering into my palm, -hear her cracked, sepulchral voice mouthing such dreadful -words: ‘Little girl, your rosy palm has all the -secrets of your life clearly written there. You have -drunk deep of the cup of love, but the dregs were bitter; -you looked above you for a lover, but you had a -beautiful rival, a high-born lady, who held his heart -and his hand. Hopeless of ever winning your heart’s -idol, and destined by your mother to a marriage for -money, you deserted your home, and fled far away with -new friends. Is it not so?’”</p> - -<p>“You have spoken the truth,” sobbed hapless Berry. -“Oh, I did not dream you could find all that in the -palm of my hand. But now you have told me of the<span class="pagenum">[79]</span> -past, read me the story of my future. Tell me what -awaits the most ill-fated girl in the world.”</p> - -<p>“You may well say ill-fated,” croaked the hag, still -clutching the little white hand, and peering into its lines -as one reads an open book; “I read horror upon horror -here, and—it is better not to know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, tell me all,” cried Berry recklessly; “go on, -go on!”</p> - -<p>With a heartless chuckle the seeress muttered:</p> - -<p>“Before I touch on the impending tragedy of your -future I must return to the past. The old mother who -loved you so dearly, whom you deserted so cruelly in -her old age—that old mother lies dead!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no!” sobbed Berry, sinking to her -knees in despair.</p> - -<p>“It is true,” croaked the sibyl. “She lies dead, and -her last word was a curse upon your wicked head.”</p> - -<p>“Not wicked; oh, no—only weak and suffering,” -moaned the girl. “Oh, mother, now I have indeed -nothing to live for, nothing to love.”</p> - -<p>“That is just as well, girl, for fate hangs heavy -over your head,” croaked the hag.</p> - -<p>“What fate could be more cruel than mine?” sobbed -Berry wildly.</p> - -<p>The old Indian wagged her turbaned head, muttering -low:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[80]</span></p> - -<p>“Death is the most cruel fate of all when it overtakes -the young, the beautiful, the loving. It is death -that menaces you, girl—death in a horrible form by -drowning!”</p> - -<p>“Why should I tremble at death? I have nothing but -toil and sorrow in my life,” cried Berry wearily, with -the tears running down her face.</p> - -<p>Again the woman peered into her hand, replying:</p> - -<p>“The doom is not a certainty, only a risk. It may be -averted, and if you escape it, there will come a wondrous -change in your life. There will be years of love -and happiness and wealth before you.”</p> - -<p>“You are sure, quite sure?” the girl cried piteously.</p> - -<p>“It is written, and nothing can alter it,” cried the -seeress, and Berry thought of some words she had read -in a book of Eastern verses:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">The moving finger writes; and having writ, -</div><div class="indent0">Moves on: nor all your piety, nor wit -</div><div class="indent0">Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, -</div><div class="indent0">Nor all your tears wash out a word of it. -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>She knelt there sobbing piteously, as a beaten child, -and that cracked voice went on, and on:</p> - -<p>“I can save your life, girl, and I will do it, because -you are so young and so fair that I pity you. If you -will meet me on the stroke of twelve down in the -Bonair grounds in the northern walk leading to the private<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> -zoo, I will lend you for a week a charm against -drowning—for nothing, because I pity you so. When -the week is ended the danger will be past, and a long -and happy life lies before you. Is it worth the trouble? -Will you come?”</p> - -<p>“I—I—yes, I will come!” faltered Berry wildly; then -she fled from the hag’s presence, followed by a low, exultant -laugh, and in the hall she fainted with the horror -of all she had heard, believing that the woman must -indeed be gifted with supernatural powers.</p> - -<p>Now that she was alone, it all rushed wildly over -her, <a id="Ref_81" href="#BRef_81">and she knew</a> that she must go to receive the mysterious -charm that could avert her impending doom of -death.</p> - -<p>“I can go and be back again before the kind housekeeper -returns,” she thought, slipping out of the room -and stealing like a shadow along the dim corridors till -she reached a door that led out upon the beautiful -grounds into the calm, sweet night.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[82]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">COTTAGE AND CASTLE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The beautiful California night, sweet and balmy, although -it was March—how like a dream of beauty lay -the grounds about Bonair, with their thick shrubberies -and fragrant flowers!</p> - -<p>Yet Berry, unused to nocturnal wanderings alone, -would have been frightened only for the wild excitement -that dominated every other emotion.</p> - -<p>The full moon rode queenly in the cloudless sky, and -shone like silver on the lovely scene—on tall groups -of statuary, gleaming whitely against clumps of tropical -shrubbery, on arbors twined with roses, on tinkling -fountains, on tall, white clumps of lilies and beds of -hyacinths, scenting the air with sweetness. All that -wealth and taste could devise in this land so favored -by nature, was here in lavish measure adorning the -many acres of ground that surrounded the picturesque -pile of magnificent buildings called Bonair.</p> - -<p>And simple Berenice Vining, to whom all this was -so new and amazing, caught her breath with a gasp, -remembering that Charley Bonair was heir to it all—the -only son of the proud multimillionaire.</p> - -<p>She felt for the first time the vast difference between<span class="pagenum">[83]</span> -her and the man who had made careless love to her for -twenty-four hours—love that was not great enough -to bridge the gulf between the lowly cottage and the -lofty castle, so that she might walk across it to his -arms.</p> - -<p>Her thoughts flew to the old home, to the humble cottage, -with the morning glories climbing all over it in -blue and white and roseate glory, and a yearning came -to her for her little room again, with its cheap white -ruffled curtains at the window, and the simple adornings -so dear to a young girl’s heart.</p> - -<p>Her heart rose in her throat, and she had to pause -and lean her head against a tree, while she sobbed in -hysterical distress:</p> - -<p>“Oh, mamma, mamma!”</p> - -<p>Remorse throbbed at her bosom’s core. She had -done wrong to forsake the dear old mother whose heart -had been broken by her desertion.</p> - -<p>“Alas, why was I not there to pray for her forgiveness? -She was all I had to love me on earth! -Those older brothers and sisters, they never cared for -Berry. They always scolded and berated me because I -was mamma’s pet; they said I was a spoiled child. -None of them will ever care to see me again!”</p> - -<p>She sobbed on brokenly, without noticing that the -clock in the high tower had solemnly tolled out the<span class="pagenum">[84]</span> -midnight hour, when she was to meet the fortune -teller and receive the charm that was to ward off her -impending cruel doom.</p> - -<p>She did not even notice, in her perturbation, the delicate -odor of a fine cigar blending with the scent of the -flowers close by, and she would have darted away in -alarm had she dreamed that a young man was sitting -on a rustic seat in a clump of shrubbery just back of -her—so close indeed that she might have caught the -sound of his quick breathing only that it was drowned -by the tinkle of the fountain that, throwing its spray -high in the air, fell back again like the low patter of -rain upon the broad leaves of the lily-bordered pool.</p> - -<p>But as for him, he had caught every word she -uttered, and he knew every tone of the sweet voice, too, -though he could not see her face as she clung there with -her cheek against the rough bark of the tree.</p> - -<p>It was Charley Bonair, sick at heart and troubled, -who had hidden himself there in the solitude of the -beautiful night to puzzle over the problem of his -destiny.</p> - -<p>He thought he had worked it all out before in the -moonlight nights on the yacht, before he had landed -from it at San Francisco. But that was when he had -believed that Berenice Vining was surely dead, and -that nothing remained but his duty to Rosalind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[85]</span></p> - -<p>Now it all rose again like a ghost that would not -down—the struggle between his heart and his duty, -for they did not agree.</p> - -<p>His troth plight held him to Rosalind, his love belonged -to Berry.</p> - -<p>But the pure little cottage maiden would not accept -the heart without the hand.</p> - -<p>Now that he knew she still lived, his heart was in -a tumult between love and pride and duty.</p> - -<p>He did not wish to make a mésalliance. His pride -clung to Rosalind, the heiress, and he felt he owed her -all respect and duty.</p> - -<p>But his code of morals was so lax that if he could -have possessed Berry without a wedding ring, he would -have been loyal to her, even while wedding her rival, -and found a measure of happiness in the double life.</p> - -<p>But so certain was he of the little maiden’s stainless -purity, that he knew it would be useless to reveal himself -to her, although sobbing there in touch of his -hand.</p> - -<p>At the first sign of his presence he knew that she -would fly from him in alarm and consternation.</p> - -<p>He had come home determined to be good, and delight -all his relatives by asking Rosalind to name the -wedding day. He had decided that since Berry must -surely be dead he could jog along quite comfortably<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> -with the blond beauty. Since neither one professed -to be greatly in love, there would be plenty of ways -for such rich people to keep out of each other’s way.</p> - -<p>All at once now he went back to his old resolve.</p> - -<p>“I must marry Rosalind and be done with it. There -would be no end of a bother with my folks, and probably -disinheritance, if I cut the whole thing and married -little Berry. Besides, Rose is a good girl, after -all, and it would be a shame to break her heart.”</p> - -<p>Just as he came to this eminently virtuous resolution, -and was softly rising to sneak away from the -temptation of folding the sobbing Berry to his heart, -there came an unlooked-for incident.</p> - -<p>The sound of muffled footsteps suddenly paused by -the tree, and a hoarse voice muttered impatiently:</p> - -<p>“Why did you fail to keep the tryst, girl? It is -long since the midnight bell tolled, and I grew weary -of waiting.”</p> - -<p>Berry gave such a convulsive start backward that -the blossoming shrubs behind her were shaken, and -dropped a shower of sweet flower petals to the ground.</p> - -<p>“I—I—oh, I was so wretched thinking of my dear -mother dead and my lost home, and the sorrows of my -life, that I forgot everything else,” faltered the poor -girl, with a dazed air. “What was it, please, you -wanted of me?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p> - -<p>Charley Bonair was not going to leave just now, oh, -no! He would stay and see what lark the girl was up -to, anyway. Perhaps time had changed her, and she -was not the good little angel of the past! Somehow -he felt himself grow jealous at the thought, even while -the quick thought came she might now be more to him.</p> - -<p>Why did he feel all at once that he hated little -Berry? Was it that she had destroyed his faith?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">I deemed her the one thing undefiled -</div><div class="indent1">By the air we breathe, in a world of sin; -</div><div class="indent0">The truest, the tenderest, purest child, -</div><div class="indent1">A man ever trusted in. -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>What was this reproach for a tryst she had failed to -keep? He would listen, he would learn her sin.</p> - -<p>He leaned forward on his tiptoes, and got a good -peep through the rose branches at Berry and her interlocutor. -The latter looked like an old Indian squaw, -picturesque draped in an old red blanket, with a -feathered headdress over her seamy, swarthy face.</p> - -<p>“Ah, a woman!” the young fellow thought to himself -in keen relief, that made his heart throb tumultuously.</p> - -<p>He heard the coarse, guttural voice replying cajolingly:</p> - -<p>“Have you forgot so soon, girl, the charm I promised -when I told your fortune, that was to avert a threatening -doom, and bring to you wealth and happiness?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[88]</span></p> - -<p>Berry gave a little cry of remembrance and pleading:</p> - -<p>“Oh, I remember it all now. Forgive me that I -forgot. Oh, I was so sad, so sorrowful, I could think -of nothing but the tale you told me of the death of my -old mother. Oh, is it really, really true?”</p> - -<p>The agony of those upraised eyes was enough to -pierce a heart of stone, but the old crone answered -malevolently:</p> - -<p>“It is true as that the moon and stars shine in the -heavens to-night. She thought that you had fled with a -rich young man, who meant to ruin you, and she -cursed you for your sin and her disgrace.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I am innocent and pure as the day I was -born! I pray Heaven that in death she knows the -truth!” moaned the poor girl wildly.</p> - -<p>“We have no time for all this rant! It is time for -honest folks to be in their beds!” rejoined the Indian -impatiently. Charley Bonair started, asking himself:</p> - -<p>“Now, where have I heard that voice before, and -that old saw in the same tone? It is strangely familiar, -somehow, with a difference that baffles one!”</p> - -<p>He heard Berry murmur again sobbingly:</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, I did not mean any harm. Have you -brought the charm with you?”</p> - -<p>Then indeed Charley Bonair could scarcely keep -from betraying himself by laughing outright.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[89]</span></p> - -<p>“I left it around the path there in my bundle. Come -with me and you shall have it.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you,” Berry answered, simply and sweetly, -and moved away by her side, a slim, white, girlish figure -by the tall, grotesque figure of the other.</p> - -<p>Bonair started to follow, then drew quickly back.</p> - -<p>“It is none of my business to go spying on the dear, -silly little girl,” he decided. “She must be in love with -some other fellow now, by her anxiety over the old fortune -teller, who knows no more of her future than the -man in the moon. I’d better go back to the house and -announce myself, and done with it! Hello, I’ll finish -my cigar and drop around to my zoo, and see Zilla -first. They wrote me she had two cubs and was savage -as a lioness!”</p> - -<p>He sauntered along in the moonlight when the cigar -was lighted; but suddenly his repose was shaken by a -terrible sound—loud, piercing shrieks coming from the -direction of the zoo.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[90]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">STRANGE MYSTERIES.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“The shrieks are coming from the bear pit! What -if some one had fallen in there!” cried Bonair, turning -suddenly cold as ice with apprehension, and starting -at a wild run in the direction of the sounds.</p> - -<p>As the housekeeper had told Berry, her young master -had been fond of animal pets from boyhood, and had -quite a choice collection of his own at the southern -end of the park, where they were taken care of by a -man and his wife.</p> - -<p>In this miniature zoo there was an aviary, some -prairie dogs, a monkey house, and some larger animals, -including bears of different species. Zilla, the black -bear, was his favorite. He had got her himself several -years ago while deer hunting in the mountains of -West Virginia. A handsome fawn, a black bear cub, -and some smaller animals, were the trophies he carried -home, and he had duly christened the cub Zilla, and -petted her so much that she loved him with a doglike -devotion. In his last letter from his sister Marie, she -had told him that Zilla was now the proud parent of -twins, and had become fierce as a lioness in defense -of her young.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[91]</span></p> - -<p>He had just started for the bear pit, idly wondering -if Zilla would know him again after his absence of almost -a year, when those frenzied shrieks of some one -in deadly peril made him fly to the rescue in breathless -haste, his heart sinking with a terrible dread.</p> - -<p>Suppose it were little Berry herself that had unwittingly -stumbled and fallen into the bear pit?</p> - -<p>Oh, horrors! One blow of Zilla’s big paw would -be sufficient to kill the lovely brown-eyed maid. In -the twinkling of an eye, she would be dead!</p> - -<p>There was one chance in a hundred for her life.</p> - -<p>If he could get there before the fatal blow was given, -if he could spring down into the pit, and arrest Zilla’s -furious onslaught by the sound of his voice—the voice -of the beloved master!</p> - -<p>But would she remember him still? Would she -yield obedience to his command in her new character -of motherhood, filled with the instinct of protection to -her young? If she would not, then woe unto any poor -wretch who had fallen into her angry clutches!</p> - -<p>With these thoughts in his mind he flew toward the -zoo, with a wild prayer in his heart to be in time, just -in time!</p> - -<p>Every moment was an eternity, and his feet seemed -to drag beneath him. He had never realized the value -of a moment of time before.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[92]</span></p> - -<p>But now life itself seemed to hang upon his haste.</p> - -<p>Fortunately the distance was short, so that he covered -it in a space of time less than five minutes—five -minutes that might have been fatal, alas, for ere now -the wild shrieks had died into silence more terrifying -still—portentous silence in which the victim might -have died.</p> - -<p>At last! At last! After an eternity of time it -seemed to him—he reached the scene of his suspicions.</p> - -<p>He was right, for from the pit came terrible sounds, -while all the varied denizens of the zoo, having been -startled from sleep by the screams of fear, were making -hideous din in their several voices, the uproar creating -a sort of babel of the scene.</p> - -<p>Over all shone the full moon in a cloudless sky, making -everything almost as clear as day.</p> - -<p>Bonair flung himself face downward, peering into -Zilla’s abode.</p> - -<p>Down there was something white that could dimly -be seen on the ground, while Zilla crouched over it, -hitting pounding blows with her big paws. The other -three bears who shared the pit were not taking any -part, only walking about on their hind legs, expressing -dismay and wonder by dismal and prolonged growling.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Heaven, have pity!” Bonair cried wildly, and -leaped into the pit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[93]</span></p> - -<p>He fell flat on his face, and Zilla’s attention was -quickly attracted so that the lifted paw, big, hairy, -ponderous, fell nerveless as she turned desperately on -the new intruder upon her domain.</p> - -<p>Before he could struggle up to his feet, breathless -from his race and the shock of his fall, the black bear -dealt him a blow hard enough to knock the life out of -him if he had not been nerved by a terrible anxiety that -almost made him proof against her force. He got up -feebly and clutched at her, muttering through a mouthful -of blood:</p> - -<p>“Zilla! Zilla!”</p> - -<p>The name proved his salvation, for the huge black -animal was opening her arms to crush him to her in a -grip that meant death, but she paused in sudden indecision.</p> - -<p>“Zilla! Zilla!” the man cried again hoarsely, entreatingly, -his heart leaping to his throat in panting -gasps.</p> - -<p>A stifled moan smote his ear, but it did not come -from Zilla, but from the still white something on the -ground, and at the sound the bear turned toward it -again with a ferocious growl.</p> - -<p>But the great uplifted hairy paw did not fall, for -with lightning swiftness, Bonair sprang forward, his<span class="pagenum">[94]</span> -fist shot out with terrible force and struck the animal -just between the eyes, so that she lurched backward.</p> - -<p>“Zilla, you devil, if you have hurt her, I will kill -you!” he shouted, as he flung himself between them.</p> - -<p>Madam Bruin, who had seen stars for a moment as -his fist struck her face, now regained her feet, standing -erect and menacing, but without making direct -attack. She seemed dazed, stupefied, and a sort of -shiver shook her huge black body.</p> - -<p>As the moon shone down on the strange scene, she -got her first look at the intruder, and she began to -tremble more and more with the rush of instinctive -memory. Bonair saw already that the battle was won.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Zilla, you know me at last,” he cried, in blended -relief and exultation, and added:</p> - -<p>“Down, down, wretched beast, at my feet!”</p> - -<p>Oh, wondrous change.</p> - -<p>It did not seem possible that the maddened, murderous, -plunging beast of a moment ago could be transformed -like this into a tender, loving animal that -groveled on the ground and licked the master’s hand -with a quivering red tongue like a dog’s. But the -transformation was wrought.</p> - -<p>There she lay prostrate at Bonair’s command, conquered, -humble, loving, her huge black body quivering -all over, her whole attitude one of complete submission.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[95]</span></p> - -<p>“Lie still, now,” her master commanded, roughly -stroking her head, even while he turned in an agony of -anxiety to that figure huddled on the ground the other -side of him. He stooped down to examine it, and as he -did so Zilla’s fury returned. She growled and half -rose, but his restraining hand thrust her fiercely back.</p> - -<p>“Must I slay you, beast?” he demanded, with a blow -that forced her to be quiescent, while he made a further -examination of the white something that after one -moan had given no further sign of life.</p> - -<p>Alas, his fearful heart had told him right.</p> - -<p>It was she, Berenice Vining, the little maid who had -stirred his heart to love’s joy and pain as no other -woman had ever done before! Little Berry of the -starry eyes and pure heart.</p> - -<p>Gowned in simple white and seemingly lifeless, she -lay, and he turned to find some implement to slay -Zilla, in the rush of furious vengeance.</p> - -<p>But the bear had slunk from him to the corner where -her darlings whined in their soft nest, and he tripped -and fell in his agitation—not in a pool of blood, but -upon a soft mass of wool—the thick red blanket he had -seen on the Indian fortune teller when she had come to -drag Berry away to this hideous doom.</p> - -<p>He comprehended that the woman had thrust Berry -down to this awful death, and that in the life-and-death<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> -struggle, she had dragged down with her the scarlet -blanket.</p> - -<p>But why, why, why, had the old hag thirsted for this -beautiful, innocent young life? was the question that -struck him like a blow in the face.</p> - -<p>He knelt down by her in anguish; he put his hand beneath -her face and turned it to the light.</p> - -<p>Fortunately there was no mark or bruise upon it to -mar its lifeless beauty, but the lids lay heavy and dark -on the white cheek, and the heart, when he laid his hand -over it, had no pulsation. He had come too late. -Zilla’s blows had battered out the life from the beautiful -body!</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair groaned in anguish.</p> - -<p>“Dead! Dead! Poor little darling; sweet, pure -child! How could so slight a form survive those thudding -blows I heard as I dropped into the pit? They -shall die for this, the old hag who flung her down to -her fate, and the murderous Zilla, who finished her -work! Now there is nothing left but to take her out of -this accursed hole back to my home, my last dead love, -my little Berry, whom fate placed beyond my reach. -Ah,” the tone changed to one of horror, as a bullet -whizzed suddenly down into the pit past his cheek -and buried itself in his shoulder.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[97]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A TIMELY RESCUE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>How closely joy and sorrow tread on each other’s -heels, how nearly they touch each other!</p> - -<p>Up at the splendid Bonair palace the music and dancing -went on apace, Lucile and Marie being all in ignorance -of their brother’s proximity and peril.</p> - -<p>His presence in the theater had been unobserved, -and none dreamed of his return.</p> - -<p>The splendid fête went on, and the music of the -orchestra and the sounds of flying feet drowned the -shrieks of mortal peril that arose from the bear pit.</p> - -<p>It seemed as if Charley Bonair and Berenice Vining, -both victims of some mysterious enemy, must perish -for want of a helping hand in this hour of terrible -danger.</p> - -<p>It must have ended thus in speedy death, had not -the tumult of the bear pit been overheard at the small -cottage near by, where the zoo keeper and his wife -made their home.</p> - -<p>The woman, a lighter sleeper than the man, had been -half aroused by the sound of Berenice’s piercing -shrieks.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[98]</span></p> - -<p>She raised her head from the pillow and listened -intently for a moment, and cold chills of terror ran -down her spine at the agony of those fearful cries, -as of one in mortal peril.</p> - -<p>“Oh, surely there’s murder being done somewhere -very close,” she groaned aloud, and now thoroughly -aroused, proceeded to shake her husband awake.</p> - -<p>“Wake up, wake up, Sam Cline; don’t lay there -snoring like a pig, when somebody’s getting killed, -sure! Wake, wake, wake!” she exclaimed, and to -expedite the awakening, she sprinkled his face with -cold water, which soon had the desired effect.</p> - -<p>“What’s broke loose Mandy, hey?” he exclaimed, -in bewilderment, and she answered:</p> - -<p>“Sam, there’s been the most terrible screams coming -up about the zoo, and now I can hear everything there -roused up and making the most fearful din—enough -to split your ears open. Listen, don’t you hear it yourself?”</p> - -<p>“I’d be stone-deaf sure if I didn’t hear all that -racket! Suthin’ dreadful must ’a’ happened, sure! I’d -better dress and go up and see!” he answered, hurrying -into his clothing.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go with you,” declared Mandy, throwing on -a wrapper, and thrusting her bare feet into slippers, -without more ado, they rushed in the direction of the<span class="pagenum">[99]</span> -zoo, getting near enough when the shot was fired down -into the bear pit to see a tall, white figure running -away in breathless haste.</p> - -<p>“Somebody’s trying to kill the bears, sure! I wonder -what for, now!” gasped Mandy, almost breathless with -her speed.</p> - -<p>“Run! run! let’s catch her, the wretch!” panted Sam -Cline, but the white figure, having the advance of -them, seemed to fly like the wind, and quickly disappeared -from sight.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile as they rushed on, amid the babel of -varied animal sounds, they came to the bear pit, and -their further pursuit of the criminal was arrested by -hearing a human groan, mingled with the hoarse, -frightened growls of the brutes below.</p> - -<p>How it all ended, Sam Cline related in his own -words somewhat later, when he carried the news up to -Bonair, calling Mrs. Fortescue out for the purpose.</p> - -<p>“Land sakes, ma’am, a terrible thing has happened -down to the bear pit,” he began excitedly. “Mandy -and me was woke up by awful screams from down to -the zoo, and then all the birds and beasts got scared, -and sech a racket was never heard before, I reckon!—leastwise -in the hour of midnight, when everything -is s’posed to be still and asleep. Well, wife and I -rushed out as fast as we could to the scene, and next<span class="pagenum">[100]</span> -thing, zip—bang! went off a pistol right in front of -Zilla’s pit, and we saw a woman all in white running -away like mad! We gave chase, but she had the start -of us too far, and disappeared in the shrubbery jest as -we got to the pit, and heard a terrible groaning that -made us stop to investigate.” He paused for breath -in his rapid narration, and the handsome old woman -shuddered with prescient dread.</p> - -<p>“Go on, go on!”</p> - -<p>Sam Cline cleared his throat, and continued:</p> - -<p>“We peered down into the bear pit—and, oh, what -a sight was there, ma’am! All the bears in an uproar -with fright and excitement, and in the midst of it all -two people, a man and a woman, as we could see by -her white dress. Well, we called to the bears, and they -quieted down, knowing our voices so well, and then, I -swear to gracious! I nearly jumped out of my skin -with surprise, for a voice called out to me that I know -as well as I know my own, and said, with a groan:</p> - -<p>“‘Sam Cline, for Heaven’s sake, open the door and -let us out of this den.’”</p> - -<p>“A voice you knew?” repeated Mrs. Fortescue questioningly, -but the man hurried on, in a voice broken -by excitement:</p> - -<p>“You may be sure that Mandy and I obeyed him fast -enough, ma’am, and found out when we got in the pit<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> -that the man had been shot in the shoulder, and that the -woman with him was apparently dead.”</p> - -<p>“This is terrible!” shuddered Mrs. Fortescue.</p> - -<p>“I should say so, indeed, ma’am,” answered Sam -Cline, continuing. “The man told me he heard screams -from the pit, and running to it, saw the woman being -beaten to death by Zilla. He jumped down to her -rescue, but just as he got the bear subdued, somebody -fired down at him, and the ball went through his shoulder. -He sank down with the pain, and grew weak with -the blood spurting from the wound, just as we discovered -him. Well, to make my story short, I tore off -my shirt and bandaged his wound, Mandy fighting off -the bears that went wild at smelling the blood. Then I -took the dead woman in my arms, and Mandy led the -half-swooning man, and so we got them to my cottage, -and I telephoned for a doctor as soon as I could, and -next thing, I posted up here to break the news to you -and the young ladies about their brother.”</p> - -<p>“Their brother!” exclaimed the old lady wonderingly, -and he answered quickly:</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am, their own brother, Mr. Charley Bonair, -shot through the shoulder, and so upset by all he -went through in the pit, that as soon as we got him in -my house he fell down by the couch, where I laid the -dead woman, and swooned with excitement, so I just<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> -left Mandy to revive him while I telephoned the doctor -to come, and posted off up here.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Fortescue, pale and trembling, cried faintly:</p> - -<p>“Are you sure you have not made a mistake, Sam -Cline? My nephew is not even in San Francisco!”</p> - -<p>“He landed from the yacht early yesterday evening, -ma’am—he told me so—but he had not spoken to his -sisters yet. He was in the grounds, coming home, I -suppose, when he heard the shrieks from the pit, and -ran to the lady’s assistance,” explained Sam Cline -quickly.</p> - -<p>“And the lady? Did you know her, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Not her name, ma’am, but her face. She was that -pretty little actress that played in the theater here last -night. I knew her again as soon as I clapped eyes on -her face, but I don’t know as I ever heard her name.”</p> - -<p>“This is wonderful, mysterious!” cried the lady. -“Oh, what shall I do? It seems too bad to break up -the ball with this shocking news, but there seems -nothing else to do.”</p> - -<p>Sam Cline hesitated, then said humbly:</p> - -<p>“If I might make so bold as to advise you, ma’am, -I’d say let the ball go on, because it won’t last much -longer, anyway, I guess, and see Mr. Bonair yourself -before you alarm his sisters.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you are right, Sam; I hate to stir up a<span class="pagenum">[103]</span> -panic in the ballroom if I can avoid it. Wait outside -for me till I get a wrap, and I will go with you to the -cottage and see Charley.”</p> - -<p>If she had cherished the least doubt of it being her -nephew, she soon had proof of it on reaching the -keeper’s cottage, for Mrs. Cline had succeeded in reviving -the patient, and he lay pale and nervous on a -narrow cot in the same room where they had placed the -seemingly dead actress upon a neat white bed.</p> - -<p>“Charley, dear, this is terrible!” the lady cried, sinking -down on her knees and kissing his pallid brow, -damp with the dew of pain.</p> - -<p>He took the kiss impatiently, crying fervently:</p> - -<p>“Aunt Florence, do not think about me! I’m all -right, sure!—see about that poor girl over there, please! -Is she really dead, or only in a very deep swoon? By -Heaven, if Zilla has killed her, I’ll put the brute to -torture, I’ll burn her at the stake!”</p> - -<p>He ended with a groan of commingled fury and -stifled pain, and just then there came a loud rap upon -the door. The physician had fortunately arrived.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[104]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">BITTER RIVALRY.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>He had his hands full certainly, with his two patients, -for Charley Bonair insisted that he should examine -the young lady first to see if there were the least -hope of her recovery from the swoon or unconsciousness -that seemed to them all so terribly like death -itself.</p> - -<p>When Madam Fortescue returned from the cottage -two hours later, the grand ball was ending—the “dear -five hundred friends” tearing themselves away.</p> - -<p>With commendable self-possession she received their -adieus, and waited till her weary nieces had got into -their dressing gowns before she called them together -and imparted her important news.</p> - -<p>Lucile and Marie were sadly frightened, and tears -flowed fast from their beautiful eyes.</p> - -<p>“Poor, dear brother, we must go to him at once,” -they cried, but Madam Fortescue forbade it.</p> - -<p>“No, the physician wished him to rest quietly to-night -in the care of Sam Cline, but you both will be -allowed to see him to-morrow. The wound is not -necessarily dangerous, but it is better for him to remain<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> -a day or two at the cottage before he comes -home.”</p> - -<p>“And the pretty little actress—Miss Vane. Do you -say that she revived?” cried Marie.</p> - -<p>“She has shown signs of life, that is all. The poor -young girl’s body is a mass of bruises. He did not find -any broken bones, however, and says she owes her escape -from that to the thick red blanket of the murderous -old squaw that fell down on her, and formed -with its folds a cushion against the fury of Zilla’s -blows.”</p> - -<p>The two young girls shuddered with horror over -the story. They recalled the bright beauty of the -sparkling young actress with keen admiration, and realized -the difference now with heartfelt sorrow.</p> - -<p>“She must have a good nurse and every possible attention -to restore her life. We will charge ourselves -with all the expenses, poor girl,” they exclaimed.</p> - -<p>And then they fell to wondering about the criminal. -Who was she—how had she happened to be at Bonair?</p> - -<p>The young girls declared solemnly that they had -not employed any fortune teller, had not known of -her presence in the house. It was a decided mystery.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps the housekeeper may know something -about it,” suggested the aunt.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[106]</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Hopson was summoned and cleared up the -little mystery.</p> - -<p>She told how Miss Montague had called her out -while the banquet was in progress, saying that an old -Indian fortune teller had called and offered her services -to aid in the evening’s entertainment.</p> - -<p>Miss Montague was so pleased with the idea that she -had engaged the old woman at her own expense to remain -two hours and amuse the theatrical company -after the banquet. She had asked Mrs. Hopson to -prepare the little alcove for the seeress, and to apprise -the members of the company of the treat in store for -them. Mrs. Hopson had consented to the plan, and -Rosalind had left her, after cautioning the housekeeper -to say nothing to her mistresses of the little -plot, saying she wished to defray all the cost herself.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hopson went on and told of the fright the -young actress had received on hearing the story of her -future from the old seeress, and of how she had taken -her to her own apartments to spend the night, but returned -to find her missing.</p> - -<p>“It irked me to find her gone, but I never thought of -danger to the sweet, pretty young girl,” she declared, -adding:</p> - -<p>“Now it seems to me that there was some deep-laid -plot to injure the young actress. That old Indian<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> -woman was very likely a disguised enemy that sought -her life. Failing to frighten the girl to death with her -terrible prophecies, she got her out of the house some -way and pushed her into the pit to meet her death -from the angry black bear. When she saw that rescue -was likely, she made one last desperate attempt at murder -by shooting down among the bears. Oh, the -vile wretch, she should be torn limb from limb! No -punishment is too great for such a fiend!”</p> - -<p>“Yet, I doubt if she will ever be apprehended. She -has had ample time to escape and cover up all traces of -her identity,” sighed Madam Fortescue, wishing from -her heart that the wretch might be brought to justice.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how grieved, how dismayed Rosalind will be to -hear all this,” cried Lucile, with tears. “Only think, -when she was generously planning such a pleasure for -those people out of her own purse, she was vilely imposed -on by a murderous wretch who nearly destroyed -two lives. Why, if dear Charley should die, dear Rosalind -would feel like a murderess, although she did not -even know that he was in the city.”</p> - -<p>“But where was Rosalind all the evening? It seems -to me now that I do not remember seeing her at all in -the ballroom,” exclaimed Madam Fortescue.</p> - -<p>“Why, poor Rosie had a little chapter of accidents -that spoiled her whole evening,” answered Marie. “In<span class="pagenum">[108]</span> -the first place, she became suddenly ill, soon after the -dancing began, and had to retire to her room to lie -down a while. It was one of those terrible headaches, -you know, that will only get better in a dark, quiet -place, so she said we must leave her alone, as she should -lock her door and must not be disturbed. Well, something -after midnight she returned to the ballroom, and -was better, but looking so pale and ill yet that I was -surprised to see her dancing again. But pretty soon -she came to me all angry and nervous, and I could not -blame her at all. Some one had torn a great rent in -her white lace gown, and she had to retire, and she -said she would not appear again, because she was too -tired to change her gown. Poor thing, I hope she will -sleep off her sickness by to-morrow, so that she can -go with us to see Charley.”</p> - -<p>“It will give her a terrible turn to hear of all the -mischief that old fortune teller did, but it cannot be -helped now,” remarked Mrs. Hopson.</p> - -<p>Then they all separated for the night, or rather -morning, since it lacked but a few short hours to daylight.</p> - -<p>As Miss Montague was the latest of all arising, and -took her coffee in her own room, it was very late afternoon -before the two sisters came in and told her their -startling news.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[109]</span></p> - -<p>She was quite as much dismayed as they expected, -and when she heard that it was her betrothed, Charley -Bonair himself, who had been wounded in the pit, -Rosalind fainted away in dead earnest. When she -revived she was almost hysterical.</p> - -<p>“Do not tell me he is dead, my love, my Charley, -or my heart will break!” she moaned in anguish.</p> - -<p>When they told her he would get well, that they -had been down to the cottage already to see him, and -that he was resting easily, she smiled again.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am so glad, so happy, that he is spared -to us! But, dear girls, will you not bring him home -now, at once? I wish to see him so much! Did he -ask for me? Did he send me any message?”</p> - -<p>The sisters were so sorry for her that they hated -to tell her the truth, that Charley had not even called -her name.</p> - -<p>But after confessing it they hastened to make excuses -for their brother, saying he was so ill and feverish -it was no wonder he had temporarily forgotten -everything but his own sufferings.</p> - -<p>Rosalind accepted their explanation with outward -complacence, but the hot fires of jealousy seethed madly -in her heart.</p> - -<p>To herself she said bitterly:</p> - -<p>“He did not ask for me, because he does not care,<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> -he thinks only of her, the little witch who stole his -fickle heart from me! How strange, how very strange, -that he should have been on the spot to save her life! -He must have known she would be here, and followed -to bask in the light of her eyes. Oh, how I hate -her! Why does she not die, why should she live to -balk me of my happiness, for the whole world is too -narrow for my rival and me!”</p> - -<p>In her angry thoughts she almost forgot the presence -of the sisters, and they were startled by the lowering -frown upon her face, realizing that she was -bitterly disappointed at getting no message from -Charley.</p> - -<p>They hastened to tell her that the physician would -not permit him to leave his bed yet, but that they would -accompany her at any time to see her lover, assuring -her that he would be charmed with the visit.</p> - -<p>Rosalind believed quite otherwise, but she kept back -the bitter words between her lips, resolving to go, indeed, -to visit him, and to hurry up their marriage if -she could, before the pretty actress got well.</p> - -<p>Of the poor girl hovering between life and death, -and all unconscious of her surroundings, she said not -a word in pity, and when she was asked about the Indian -seeress who had wrought such woe, she declared<span class="pagenum">[111]</span> -that she had never seen her before that night, and -knew nothing of her whereabouts.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I hope none of you will blame me for what -she did!” Rosalind cried artlessly. “I am not to blame, -for I only thought to give pleasure. The woman came -to me as I leaned out of a window, and proffered her -wish, and I immediately granted it. How was I to -know that at heart she was a fiend?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[112]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A FRIEND IN NEED.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Rosalind’s sorrow, so prettily acted, had its due effect. -Her friends quickly acquitted her of all blame, -and hastened to soothe her ruffled feelings by praising -the good intentions that had prompted her terrible mistake.</p> - -<p>The Bonairs hated anything like notoriety, and -they tried very hard to keep the sensational events of -that night out of the newspapers.</p> - -<p>But their efforts failed of success, and the reporters -reaped a rich harvest.</p> - -<p>When the manager of Berry’s company came the -next day to inquire for his missing star, he was astounded -to learn through the voluble housekeeper of -the tragedy of the previous night.</p> - -<p>He went quite white, and trembled with the shock, -and as he was rather young and very handsome, Mrs. -Hopson surmised that he must be the young girl’s lover, -and pitied him very much.</p> - -<p>He cried out hoarsely:</p> - -<p>“Barely alive, you say, with but one chance in a -hundred for her life? Oh, how terrible! I can scarcely -credit it, unless I see her with my own eyes!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[113]</span></p> - -<p>He went from the mansion to the cottage, and Mrs. -Cline permitted him to see the poor, unconscious girl -upon the bed, breathing so faintly that it seemed as -if every pulsation must be her last.</p> - -<p>“Dying, poor girl, dying! And I loved her, oh, I -loved her better than my life!” the man cried, sinking -on his knees by the bed, and pressing his lips to the -cold little hand that lay outside the cover.</p> - -<p>“Then you were going to marry the poor young -lady?” asked Mrs. Cline.</p> - -<p>“No, for she had rejected my suit, telling me she -had loved once and her faith had been destroyed -forever. She was very unhappy, I know, over her -broken lovedream, but I still hoped on, believing that in -time she might forget her false lover and turn to me. -In all our leading parts I was cast as her lover, and I -threw my whole soul into everything, hoping to win her -at last. Alas! all is over, and her sweet life has fallen -beneath the machinations of a cowardly enemy,” the -man moaned, staggering up to his feet, with a look of -despair that touched the woman’s heart.</p> - -<p>“I am so sorry for you, sir,” she murmured, putting -the corner of her white apron to her eyes, that were wet -with tears.</p> - -<p>He thanked her with a look, and added:</p> - -<p>“While she lives, Mrs. Cline, see that she receives<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> -the best of attention, and look to me to settle all expenses -to—the last!” his voice breaking over the word.</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir, the Bonairs have already pledged themselves -to pay everything. A trained nurse is coming -within the hour, and the physician will be in frequently,” -she replied.</p> - -<p>“May I see Mr. Bonair? Will you take my card to -him?” asked the manager.</p> - -<p>She assented, and he was kept waiting some time, -while she related to Charley Bonair every word he -had uttered, faithfully describing the emotion he had -displayed.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair was lying on his couch very pale -and restless, and he grew almost ghastly as the tale -ran on.</p> - -<p>“That will do, you may bring him in,” he said, at -last.</p> - -<p>The next moment:</p> - -<p>“Ah, Mr. Bonair, will you pardon this intrusion?”</p> - -<p>“You are welcome, Mr. Weston. Pray be seated,” -Charley answered quietly, gazing hard at his handsome -rival.</p> - -<p>Truly he was handsome and manly, with that dark, -flashing eye that so easily wins its way to a woman’s -heart. Charley Bonair wondered jealously that Berry -had been able to withstand its fascination.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[115]</span></p> - -<p>“Dear little one, surely she loved me well,” he -thought, with a twinge of the bitterest remorse and -pain.</p> - -<p>The manager had somewhat recovered his self-possession -that had wavered in the presence of his dying -love. He did not give way as before Mrs. Cline, but -conversed easily and with a sorrowful dignity that -impressed the hearer, against his wishes, with profound -respect.</p> - -<p>“A dangerous rival, and perhaps more worthy of her -than I am,” Bonair said to himself, with a sweeping -self-contempt new and withering.</p> - -<p>If she lived, poor little Berry, who could tell but that -such devotion might win her at last?—but he groaned -aloud at the thought.</p> - -<p>“Your pardon. A twinge of pain in that confounded -shoulder,” he explained.</p> - -<p>“Permit me to praise your acting last night,” he -added. “It was superb, and, in fact, your company is -an admirable one.”</p> - -<p>“I thank you, but we are almost ruined now by this -terrible happening. No woman in my company is capable -of taking the leading part at short notice. I -shall arrange to pay the company a week’s salary in -advance, and disband for an indefinite time.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[116]</span></p> - -<p>“You must permit me to assist in the financial part; -I feel it my duty, and will make it my pleasure. I cannot -forget that the disaster came to you through your -appearance at my home last night,” the wounded man -said cordially.</p> - -<p>But the manager declined the offer with a proud, -though gentle, dignity, winning more and more Bonair’s -respect.</p> - -<p>“I thank you, sir, but I must decline your offer, -since I am amply able to meet these expenses,” he -said, adding after a moment’s hesitation:</p> - -<p>“Whatever you may choose to spend in tracing Miss -Vane’s cowardly murderer will be well spent.”</p> - -<p>“No expense will be spared for that,” Bonair promised, -growing so pale again that the visitor felt he -was staying too long, and took a courteous and sympathetic -leave.</p> - -<p>It was a nine days’ wonder in the papers, and the reporters -“worked the story for all it was worth.” Meanwhile -the Weston Company became so interesting to the -general public that the next cleverest actress studied -Berry’s part, and the new play, “A Wayside Flower,” -ran successfully for weeks upon the boards of a popular -theater.</p> - -<p>All this time Berry was lingering between life and<span class="pagenum">[117]</span> -death from the terrible pounding Zilla had given her -in the bear pit, but at last the wavering balance began -to incline toward life, gladdening many anxious hearts, -but filling one, alas, with malignant hate.</p> - -<p>For Rosalind’s jealous hatred waxed hotter every -day, and could she have found a chance to be alone -in that sick room for five minutes, it is hard to say -what might have happened.</p> - -<p>But a young princess could not have been guarded -with more loving care than the poor little actress, and -it was all through Charley Bonair that this was so.</p> - -<p>He employed two competent nurses for the sick -room, and one or the other was ordered to remain always -in the girl’s apartment.</p> - -<p>“We must remember always that she has a cruel -and unscrupulous enemy thirsting for her young life,” -he said. “That enemy may be hovering about, watching -for an opportunity to complete her murderous -work. She must be foiled in her terrible designs,” he -said firmly, and Rosalind, who heard the words, turned -aside to hide a cruel sneer that parted her crimson -lips.</p> - -<p>She was disappointed in all her crafty little schemes -for entrapping him into marriage before Berry recovered. -It was plainer to her than ever that she had -lost every hold she had upon him, and she dreaded<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> -every day that he would ask for a release from his -engagement.</p> - -<p>Rosalind said to herself that when that happened she -was afraid she would go mad of her anger and despair.</p> - -<p>A jilted bride! How could she bear the stigma, how -turn aside the jeers of her little carping world?</p> - -<p>“I cannot, I will not release him if he dares plead -to me. I will hold him to his promise, and he dare -not back down!” she vowed bitterly.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair’s convalescence was so slow that -every one became uneasy, not dreaming that he played -a deceitful part in order to remain as long as he could -beneath the same roof with Berry. Besides, as he said -to himself, he could hold Rosalind off better that way. -Though she came every day with his sisters to visit -him, he frequently pretended to be too ill or nervous to -receive them till at last his doctor rallied him soundly.</p> - -<p>“What game is it you are playing, Bonair? You -were well enough two weeks ago.”</p> - -<p>Before Bonair left at last, the nurses permitted him -to sit a half hour in Berry’s room watching her as she -slept, with the dark silken lashes prone upon her snowy -cheek, and the breath just stirring the white folds -of her breast.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[119]</span></p> - -<p>The sight went to his heart, stirring it with profound -emotion, so that he said to himself:</p> - -<p>“How can I dream of ever wedding any but this -beautiful creature, my soul’s true mate? She must be -mine alone; I must break with Rosalind!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[120]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE OLD LOVE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“I must break with Rosalind! I can wed no other -than sweet little Berry, my soul’s true mate!” Bonair -cried passionately, again to his own heart, when he -was back in his palatial home, leaving Berry at the -lowly cottage of the zoo keeper.</p> - -<p>All the puerile questions of wealth and position that -had held them apart became dross in his eyes, swept -away in the torrent of a love that would no longer -brook opposition to its restless force.</p> - -<p>Perhaps jealousy of Berry’s handsome lover, young -Weston, added fuel to the fire of his love, but it began -to burn with a consuming flame that destroyed -everything in its path. A gifted poet has fitly portrayed -the state of his mind:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">When the court of the mind is ruled by reason, -</div><div class="indent1">I know it is wiser for us to part; -</div><div class="indent0">But love is a spy who is plotting treason, -</div><div class="indent1">In league with that warm, red rebel, the heart. -</div><div class="indent0">They whisper to me that the king is cruel, -</div><div class="indent1">That his reign is wicked, his law a sin, -</div><div class="indent0">And every word they utter is fuel -</div><div class="indent1">To the flame that smolders within. -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>His dread of Rosalind’s grief and anger seemed -to vanish before the new force of his passion for<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> -Berry, and he said to himself grimly that he must have -it out with Rosalind, and be done with it. It was best -to “be off with the old love” before he was “on with -the new.”</p> - -<p>The opportunity came soon.</p> - -<p>His sister Marie privately lectured him on his indifference -to his betrothed.</p> - -<p>“How can you be so cruel to poor Rose? You treat -her like a stranger.”</p> - -<p>“Has she complained of me?” he asked evasively.</p> - -<p>“How can she help it? The dear girl is miserable -at heart, although she bears up bravely. You know -every one is caviling because the wedding day is not -set. Why don’t you settle it once for all, Charley, -dear?”</p> - -<p>Her coaxing arms were round his neck, her bright -eyes beaming into his, and he sighed:</p> - -<p>“Girls are always dead set on weddings! I don’t -see why! I think them great bores myself!”</p> - -<p>“Then why don’t you get yours over and be done -with it?” persisted the girl.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am not in any hurry to lose my bachelor freedom, -sis; I fancy Rose would henpeck me dreadfully,” -yawning.</p> - -<p>“She would not, I’m sure—that is if you behave -yourself, sir! Of course you would have to give up<span class="pagenum">[122]</span> -some of your bad habits if you were a married man—flirting, -for instance—and—and—drinking! You are -a little too fond of the winecup, aren’t you, now?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—if you say so,” he replied nonchalantly, taking -his lecture coolly, and adding: “I wonder if -Rose is going to write out a list of musts and must nots -for me to sign on the wedding day; do you know?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nonsense! Go and ask her if you want to -know! She’s in the library now, half crying because -a girl asked her if her wedding would be soon, otherwise -she wanted her to make one of a house party at -her home this fall. Don’t you see how embarrassing -the uncertainty is, Charley?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see. We must have an understanding about -it,” he replied, with a sudden gravity that emboldened -her to add:</p> - -<p>“Only yesterday Rosalind refused a proposal that -was exceptional, in every way, and when she told me -of it she half sighed: ‘He’s very nice, and if I had -not been engaged to Charley, I might have said yes.’”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t too late to call him back. I’ll tell her she -may do so!” he exclaimed eagerly.</p> - -<p>Marie pinched his ear and laughed:</p> - -<p>“Getting jealous, are you, old boy? Well, you see, -there are others who admire Rose beside yourself.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[123]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, I see,” he replied, getting up carelessly, and -moving to the door.</p> - -<p>“You’re going to Rosalind?” she asked hopefully.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will not delay speaking to her any longer,” -he replied, going out as he spoke, and getting a glass -of wine to steady himself, for he owned to himself -he was a little bit nervous, thinking uneasily.</p> - -<p>“She’ll make no end of a scene, of course—maybe -call me a cur and all that. The sooner it’s over, the -better.”</p> - -<p>Fortified with several glasses of wine, he wended -his way to the library.</p> - -<p>Rosalind was there, sure enough, exquisitely gowned -in some soft green fabric, with loads of lace trimming, -that was very becoming to her blond type and -she reclined rather pensively in a large leather chair.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[124]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">FATE WILLED OTHERWISE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Ah, Charley, it is you. I am so glad, for you were -just now in my thoughts!” cried Rosalind, beaming up -at him with a tender smile.</p> - -<p>Charley throwing himself down carelessly into the -opposite chair, returned lightly:</p> - -<p>“Very complimentary, I am sure, for I fancied you -were thinking of the other fellow.”</p> - -<p>She wrinkled her brows at him.</p> - -<p>“The other fellow?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you know, Rosalind—the one who was so nice -you would have accepted his proposal if you hadn’t -been engaged to me.”</p> - -<p>“So Marie told you that nonsense, Charley! Ha! ha! -Of course it was only a jest!” laughed Rosalind, looking -up at him with arch blue eyes, full of tenderness.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair did not return the fond glance, he -looked at her with serious gravity, unmoved by all her -coquettish beauty and rich attire. He answered -frankly:</p> - -<p>“I am sorry to hear that it was a jest. I hoped it -was truth.”</p> - -<p>“Charley!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[125]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, I hoped it was true,” he reiterated gravely, -“because I came in here to tell you it was not too late -to call him back.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley!” reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“Honor bright,” he answered, still without smiling, -and adding nervously, “oh, Rosalind, can’t you see -that he would be a better match for you than I, because -he loves you, while I—I, in spite of myself, have -grown cold, careless, indifferent to you!”</p> - -<p>“Cruel! Cruel!” sobbed the girl, behind her jeweled -fingers.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know it, dear, but I cannot help it. I tried -to be true to you, but fate willed otherwise, and I’ve -struggled too long! I give it up for useless now. Despise -me if you will, I deserve it, I know, and I don’t -blame you. But, Rosalind, if you held me to my -promise I couldn’t make you happy. I should hate -you, instead of loving you. There, the bitter truth -is out! Will you set me free?”</p> - -<p>“It might not be as easy for me as for you, Charley. -I am not so fickle-minded, perhaps, but I suppose I have -a right to ask you one question!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, go on,” he said.</p> - -<p>“It is only this, Charley, dear: Has your heart -only wandered from me, or is there—some one else?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[126]</span></p> - -<p>His handsome face flushed a little under her sorrowful -glances, but he answered bravely:</p> - -<p>“Forgive me for hurting you, Rosalind, but I will -not deceive. Yes, you have guessed the truth. There -is some one else!”</p> - -<p>Rosalind sighed heavily:</p> - -<p>“It is worse than I thought. Indifference might be -cured if I had no rival, but this is hopeless. Oh, -Charley, who is she, the girl who has won your love -from me? Her name?”</p> - -<p>“Rosalind, I would rather not tell you yet.”</p> - -<p>“That is unfair to me, Charley, very unfair!” bitterly. -“Surely I have a deep interest in my successful -rival. Does she love you?”</p> - -<p>“I hope so.”</p> - -<p>“Then you have not asked her yet?”</p> - -<p>“I waited for my release from you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, then, you will ask her now, at once! Is she -near at hand, Charley, or perhaps I should say, Mr. -Bonair, now?”</p> - -<p>“Call me Charley always if you will, and let us -be true friends, my dear girl, instead of lovers,” he -pleaded, with outstretched hands.</p> - -<p>Rosalind placed her cold little hand eagerly in his, -and answered:</p> - -<p>“This is very sudden, and very hard on me, Charley,<span class="pagenum">[127]</span> -because I have loved you dearly for a year, and looked -forward with joy to a life spent by your side. Before -I promise to release you, grant me one favor.”</p> - -<p>“Name it, Rosalind.”</p> - -<p>“You have not asked your new love yet, and you -are not sure she will love you in return?”</p> - -<p>“I am reasonably sure,” he said, with the confidence -of a sanguine mind.</p> - -<p>“How long will it be before you can have your -answer?”</p> - -<p>“A week—perhaps two,” he replied, suddenly remembering -that Berry was yet precariously ill.</p> - -<p>“Then this is what I ask you, Charley, dear—yes, -still dear, despite the wound in my heart. Keep our -secret until you have your new love’s acceptance of -your suit. Let us remain to the world lovers still, until -you are plighted to another. Then I will release you -from your vow.”</p> - -<p>“It shall be as you say,” he answered, so grateful -for her promise of release, that he did not think it -mattered going on with the farce of an engagement a -while longer.</p> - -<p>“If it will make it any less painful for you, Rose, -you can say you jilted me, you know. I shouldn’t -mind at all!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you—I will think it over,” she answered dejectedly,<span class="pagenum">[128]</span> -and the last glimpse he had of her was just -as she hid her face in her hands again and sat silent, -like a statue of despair.</p> - -<p>He went immediately down to the keeper’s cottage, -as he did every day, for news of Berry, and his heart -leaped with joy when Mrs. Cline told him there was a -marked change for the better, and the invalid had -begun to take notice and to try to talk a little.</p> - -<p>“When the doctor came this morning he was so -pleased with the improvement, he said she was quite -sure to get well now,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Thank Heaven!” he cried fervently, and after a -momentary hesitation, he added earnestly:</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Cline, do me one favor, and I will never forget -it. If that fellow, Weston, comes to see her again, do -not admit him to see the patient. Tell him she is improving, -but can see no one.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do as you say, sir, but Lor’ bless you, some of -them actor folks comes here every day to ask about -her.”</p> - -<p>“But remember, I wish to be the first one admitted -to her presence when she is able to see any one,” he -replied.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[129]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE HAPPY MEETING.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>But April had succeeded March before Berry was -fairly convalescent.</p> - -<p>A long and weary month she had lain upon that -bed of pain before life struggled back for certain into -her weary, battered frame, and the light of memory -shone again in her big, pathetic brown eyes.</p> - -<p>Then she began to get well very fast, and to betray -a great curiosity over everything, asking questions that -the doctor said might be freely answered.</p> - -<p>So before she was permitted to see any one but her -nurses, she knew all there was to tell—that Charley -Bonair, the millionaire senator’s only son, had rescued -her from Bruin’s clutches at the peril of his own life, -and that the mysterious assailant had put a ball in his -shoulder as he bent over her in the pit.</p> - -<p>“Do not tell me he was killed,” sobbed Berry.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cline laughed reassuringly.</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it, my dear young lady, although -Heaven only knows what might have happened only -for Sam and me coming up just then and scaring off -the vile woman that sought your death, for she might<span class="pagenum">[130]</span> -have shot again and again. But we chased her away, -and opened the door of the pit, and found the bears -in an awful uproar, and there’s no telling what might -have happened next, only that we got you both out as -quick as possible and brought you to our house. Laws, -Mr. Bonair only had a bullet in his shoulder, and the -doctor soon got it out, but he stayed here two weeks, -afraid to be moved home, and even now he comes down -every day to ask after you, always bringing fresh -flowers to decorate your room. A mighty good heart -has Mr. Charley.”</p> - -<p>Berry lay gazing at the fragrant flowers on the table, -a dreamy light in her great brown eyes, a faint flush -staining her pallid cheeks.</p> - -<p>She was thinking how strange and sad it was that -their paths had crossed again so tragically—hers and -handsome, wicked Charley Bonair’s.</p> - -<p>She called him wicked, because she remembered -vividly the night of their moonlight ride, when he had -asked her for her heart without her hand—oh, the -shame of it—promising she should be his sweetheart -even if he married Rosalind! Back over Berry’s mind, -in a flood tide of grief, rushed the memory of his -burning kiss, and her wild words when she had flung -his roses back into his face, wounding him with their -thorns, then leaped in a passion of wounded love and<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> -pride out of the trap into the road, where, striking her -head on a rock, she had become unconscious for hours.</p> - -<p>When she had yielded to the persuasions of the -theatrical people to become one of themselves, she had -done it with the resolve to place the whole width of the -world, if possible, between herself and Charley Bonair, -praying never to see his face again.</p> - -<p>Now the work of almost a year was undone by the -cruelest chance in the world.</p> - -<p>Alas, what strange fate had sent her unconsciously -to his home, beneath his very roof, when the cruel -wound had seared over, and she was learning to forget!</p> - -<p>It was the very irony of fate that she should owe -her life to him, to Charley Bonair, the proud, handsome -profligate!</p> - -<p>“Oh,” she cried to herself, in bitterness of soul, -“I had rather have perished than owed my life to him!” -And suddenly she burst into the most piteous sobbing -Mrs. Cline had ever heard. It was just as though -her poor heart were broken, thought the sympathetic -soul.</p> - -<p>“Ah, dear, dear, what a fool I was, blabbing out -everything at once! Now you will get worse for the -excitement, and I shall be to blame!” she cried out -piteously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[132]</span></p> - -<p>“No, no, I—I—will be calm!” cried Berry, subduing -her sobs by a violent effort, as she put out her hand, -so frail and white.</p> - -<p>“I am better now; I will not give way again. Tell -me more.”</p> - -<p>“Not to-day, miss—not till I see that my gabbling -has no ill effect on you,” Mrs. Cline replied uneasily. -But just then there was a light tap on the door that -opened into the hall, and when she went to it, there was -Bonair, asking anxiously:</p> - -<p>“How is our little patient to-day, Mrs. Cline?”</p> - -<p>How the musical voice thrilled Berry’s heart, stirring -it to subtle rapture! Alas, she did not hate him, -after all; she was turning faint and dizzy just with -the happiness of hearing him speak again! His faintest -whisper made her heart rejoice!</p> - -<p>The voice ceased, and she heard Mrs. Cline saying:</p> - -<p>“She is getting better fast, sir, but I fear I have -talked to her too much to-day, telling her about the -night you rescued her, and just now she had a hard -fit of crying from excitement.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, hush!” cried out Berry imploringly, but the -sound of her voice went to his heart, made him reckless; -he pushed past Mrs. Cline into the room, crying:</p> - -<p>“Oh, let me have just one peep at her, please!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cline, dazed and undecided, shut the door and<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> -stood with her back against it, staring as Charley Bonair -dropped down on his knees, fixing adoring eyes -on the sick girl’s pallid, frightened face.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be angry, little love! My own sweetheart, -found once more, and never to be lost again! For I am -free now, darling, and I will marry you to-morrow -if you will have me for your husband!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[134]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THEIR PLIGHTED VOWS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was enough to blow out the faint spark of Berry’s -life, the sudden shock of seeing her lover, and hearing -those startling words from his lips, but, happily, -“joy never kills.”</p> - -<p>Now at the sight of his handsome face that she -had never expected to see again in life, above all at -the sound of his musical voice, uttering words she -had not dared to fancy on his lips, such a wave of -rapturous emotion thrilled Berry from head to foot, -that she could not utter a sound. Her only response -to her lover’s ardent words was a sudden rain of blissful -tears that relieved the tension of her surcharged -heart.</p> - -<p>With his own soft handkerchief Charley Bonair -wiped away those shining drops, murmuring fond -words, quite heedless of the gaping Mrs. Cline, who -looked and listened, thinking to herself:</p> - -<p>“Well, I never! Has the man gone clean daft, promising -to marry this poor little actress, when the folks -up at the mansion say that he’s engaged to that grand, -rich New York heiress, Miss Montague!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[135]</span></p> - -<p>As she had known him from his boyhood, and did -not stand at all in awe of him, she cried, in righteous -indignation:</p> - -<p>“For shame, Mr. Charley, trying to flirt with that -poor little sick girl, that don’t know you as well as -I do, or she would not listen to your foolishness! Get -out of here, now, do, before you scare my patient into -fits!”</p> - -<p>At this the happy young fellow, remembering her -presence for the first time, got up deliberately from -his knees, where he was kneeling by Berry, and marching -to Mrs. Cline, took her, playfully, by the shoulders, -and put her outside the door, saying gayly:</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand a word of this, of course, but -I will explain it all to your satisfaction if you will stay -out here till I get an answer to my proposal, will you?” -pleadingly.</p> - -<p>“I—I—yes, I suppose I must, if you order me to, -Mr. Charley, but I don’t know what the doctor, and -the nurse, and Miss Montague, too, will say to all this -goings on, sir, especially if the poor young girl gets -a relapse from excitement,” she complained.</p> - -<p>“She will not get a relapse. Happiness never killed -anybody!” cried the young man, beaming happily upon -her, as he shut her outside, and went back to the blushing, -trembling little girl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[136]</span></p> - -<p>“My darling, please forgive me for taking you by -storm this way, but I never had any patience in my -life, and how could I have now, when I have the sweetest -story in the world to tell you? Listen, Berry, my -dearest: I have loved you and you alone, since the -first moment I saw your lovely face shining down on -me from the cottage window framed in morning-glory -vines. From that moment your face has been -the star of my life’s horizon, and your sweet love song -has haunted many a dream. But I was betrothed to -another, a proud, rich girl, my equal in birth and position, -so at first I did not think of breaking my vow. -Then you faded from my life, and I feared you were -dead until I saw you on the boards of the theater that -night, in my own home, a very queen of love and -beauty. I knew you again in a moment. My little -Berry could not hide from me under the pseudonym of -Vera Vane.”</p> - -<p>Berry’s soft cheeks dimpled into a smile at that, -and taking her small hand, he held it tightly clasped in -a warm, sweet pressure, while he continued:</p> - -<p>“That very night I had come home from a long -yachting trip, trying to forget you, and had made up -my mind to settle down and make everybody but myself -happy by marrying Rosalind. But my presence -was as yet unknown to my people, and when I saw you<span class="pagenum">[137]</span> -again, Berry, and knew that you lived, more sweet and -lovely than ever, I could not bear the thought of my -betrothed. I stole away when the play was over and -went out into the grounds to brood over my trouble. -While I smoked a cigar, hidden on a seat in some shrubberies, -you came by and stopped and talked to yourself -until the old fortune teller came to upbraid you -for not keeping your engagement promptly. Do you -remember it, Berry?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, yes—and you were there close by?” she -breathed, in wonder.</p> - -<p>“Yes, almost close enough to touch you: I was -tempted, indeed, to rush to you and clasp you to my -heart, but I had not forgotten the night I kissed you -when you flung my roses in my face and scratched me -with the sharp thorns; I did not care to risk such vixenish -resentment again, although that kiss, believe me, -was worth all I suffered for it.”</p> - -<p>She listened, eagerly, to every word, flushing and -paling, delicately as a rose, her large, dilated brown -eyes drinking in every tender word. Charley Bonair -thought, in spite of her thinness, that she was as lovely -as a dream. Suffering had only refined her beauty.</p> - -<p>She had scarcely a word to say; she only listened, -drinking in his voice like heavenly music, and he, gazing<span class="pagenum">[138]</span> -at her and stroking her little hand, went on with -his explanations, saying:</p> - -<p>“I heard all you and the old woman were saying, -and was vastly amazed at your credulity in believing -her silly yarns. Well, soon after you left, I started -down to see Zilla, and heard your cries of terror, -so by hurrying my pace I was able to get there -in time to save you from being quite killed by the -angry brute. I suppose Mrs. Cline has told you everything -that happened afterward, as far as she knew.”</p> - -<p>She murmured yes, and he added joyously:</p> - -<p>“What she did not know, was that as soon as I found -out you would live, I resolved to break my engagement -with Rosalind, if you would forgive the past -and have me. I have carried out my intentions, and -am free to offer you my heart and my name. Can -you love me, little girl, in spite of my glaring faults, -and take me in hand to reform me?”</p> - -<p>His tender eyes shone love into hers, and he looked -as though he meditated kissing her at any moment. -Berry felt dizzy all at once, with a strange feeling, -as if she were floating in air on rosy clouds of bliss.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Berry, why don’t you speak? Are you angry -with me still? Will you not forgive and love me?” -cried her ardent lover, with dawning anxiety, for he<span class="pagenum">[139]</span> -felt her little hand growing chill and fluttering like -a bird in his clasp.</p> - -<p>She half sobbed:</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, I am almost afraid!”</p> - -<p>“Afraid, my darling—of what, pray?”</p> - -<p>“To—marry—you, Mr. Bonair! Because you are -all so rich and grand—your people, you know, and -they might not care for you to marry simple little me, -instead of the proud heiress, Rosalind!” she panted -questioningly, while blushes came and went deliciously -on her thin cheeks.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair looked sober for a moment, then -laughed again.</p> - -<p>“Ah! now I am up against the real thing!” he exclaimed. -“It is quite true, Berry, darling, that they -may object a little at first, but when they see how -sweet and charming you are, dad and my pretty sisters -will surely come around and love you almost as well -as I do. Of course they would make no end of a -bother if I asked their leave first, but I don’t mean -to do it, you see! We’ll get married first, my angel, -and announce it afterward. I can take the Clines into -the secret, and we could be married here to-morrow, in -this room, if you will consent, Berry.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I am afraid, afraid!” she moaned nervously.</p> - -<p>“Listen to me, Berry. Are you afraid that dad will<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> -cut us off with a shilling if I marry you? Do you -object to being a poor man’s bride?” her lover demanded, -rather sternly, in his impatience.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no! Mr. Bonair—I——”</p> - -<p>“Call me, Charley,” he interrupted imploringly.</p> - -<p>“Charley, then! I’ve always been poor, you know, -and I shouldn’t mind it all with you, dear, if—if—you -are sure you will never repent and be sorry I -married you.”</p> - -<p>“You will marry me, then, darling?” He bent and -took the kiss he was longing for. “Bless you, dear, -your Charley will never repent he won such a prize! -It may be you that will be sorry, for I have got -a hard name, you know, and need reforming,” he said -truthfully.</p> - -<p>“I will love you so, my Charley, it will make a better -man of you!” she cried tenderly, giving way to the -rapture of her happy love at last. Then, as a light -tap sounded on the door: “Oh, dear, we were quite -forgetting poor Mrs. Cline, dearest. Do let her in, -and explain everything, or she will think this interview -very improper.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[141]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">ALL FOR LOVE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Charley Bonair was a man of action.</p> - -<p>Having resolved to marry Berenice Vining, he knew -that he would have to encounter strong family opposition, -and foreboded that every possible means would -be adopted to prevent the marriage.</p> - -<p>Therefore he decided to forestall family interference -by marrying the young girl first, and trying to -reconcile his relatives afterward.</p> - -<p>His sanguine disposition made him believe that this -would be an easy task. And even if it failed he felt -quite independent, even in the face of possible disinheritance.</p> - -<p>His dead mother had left her own handsome fortune -to be divided between her three children on the -coming of age of Marie, the youngest.</p> - -<p>Charley thought he and his love could get along -very well on his portion, especially as Berenice was -used to poverty and would not really know how to be -extravagant.</p> - -<p>He made up his mind to have the ceremony quietly -to-morrow and he would then feel surer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[142]</span></p> - -<p>He took Mrs. Cline partially into his confidence, -telling her that he and Berenice had been lovers before -and parted through a misunderstanding that he -had now explained away.</p> - -<p>The next thing he had to do—the hardest of all—was -to acquaint Rosalind with the fact of his acceptance -by her rival.</p> - -<p>He felt keenly how unwelcome the news must be -to the girl who had loved him and hoped to be his -bride, but he assured himself that she would soon be -consoled by the attentions of other lovers.</p> - -<p>“I am not much of a prize for any girl, if it were not -for father’s money, anyway. She will soon forget me,” -he thought, with unwonted seriousness, for at the -thought of wedding little Berry, all the follies of his -youth rose up blackly before his mind’s eye, with a -poignant sense of regret.</p> - -<p>As he strolled slowly backward to the mansion, in -the late afternoon amid the sweet sights and sounds -and perfume of spring at her loveliest, he caught himself -wondering “if the old man would ‘cut up very -rough’ over the mésalliance he was going to make,” -and if his dainty sisters would turn up their pretty -noses at his humble bride.</p> - -<p>“It is very likely they may, but if so I must face -the music and accept my fate. One thing is certain. I<span class="pagenum">[143]</span> -would not give up my bonnie bride for the whole Bonair -fortune, although I should like a generous slice -of it for my bride’s sake as well as my own. Heigh-ho, -he may cut me off with a shilling, though, and then I -shall only get the modest portion from my mother. -Without that we should have to live on bread and -cheese and kisses, my love and I.” He threw back his -handsome head with a happy laugh, and went his way, -whistling a plaintive Irish air that seemed to chime with -his mood:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">“My fortunes are not what for your sake I could wish them to be; -</div><div class="indent0">My wealth consists of but a heart that beats alone for thee; -</div><div class="indent0">And when I ask you to be mine, -</div><div class="indent0">As I shall surely do, -</div><div class="indent0">This is the song I shall sing to you: -</div></div><div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent4">“My heart for your heart -</div><div class="indent5">Is all I can give; -</div><div class="indent4">My love for your love -</div><div class="indent5">As long as we live; -</div><div class="indent4">My smile for your smile, -</div><div class="indent5"> Until life is o’er; -</div><div class="indent4">These give me, sweetheart, -</div><div class="indent5">I ask nothing more.” -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>With a heart elate with love and joy and triumph, -he entered the house and sought Rosalind, but she -was nowhere to be seen.</p> - -<p>He sent up a servant to her room to ask for an -interview, eager to have the painful task over that he<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> -might give himself up wholly to the happiness that -sent his pulses bounding joyously along his veins.</p> - -<p>The servant came back quickly to say that Miss Montague -was in bed with a sick headache, and had desired -not to be disturbed.</p> - -<p>With that he began to feel a little remorseful, saying -to himself:</p> - -<p>“Poor Rose! no doubt she has wept herself into a -headache over losing me. I wish she had not loved so -well! It makes me feel badly because I know I don’t -deserve one of her tears.”</p> - -<p>He was interrupted here by a visit from the detective -who came, as he had done several times before, -to report that he had made no headway with the -case.</p> - -<p>“The old Indian seeress has covered up her tracks -completely. I cannot get the slightest clew to her -whereabouts or her identity, and I almost believe that -some disguised person played the part of fortune teller, -and may be laughing in secret at our fruitless search,” -he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>While the young man stared at him in startled wonder, -he added:</p> - -<p>“I have made up my mind that we can do nothing -more until Miss Vane, the actress, is able to speak<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> -for herself. Doubtless she might tell us something -that would furnish a clew. What do you think?”</p> - -<p>“It may be so, but I doubt it. She is fast regaining -strength, and I hope may soon be interviewed on -the subject, although the physician interdicts such conversation -now,” Charley answered.</p> - -<p>“In that case I will wait before I take any further -steps. If she cannot furnish any further clew it will -be useless for me to go on, as the murderer or murderess, -as the case may be, is securely entrenched behind -a disguise we cannot penetrate,” reluctantly owned -the detective.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair, after a moment’s meditation, agreed -with him that it must be so.</p> - -<p>“One more question,” said the baffled sleuth: “Do -you know of any malignant enemy Miss Vane can -have?”</p> - -<p>In his masculine obtuseness, Charley quickly answered:</p> - -<p>“No, I do not know that she has an enemy in the -world.”</p> - -<p>The detective mused a moment, then exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Sometimes love can be as cruel as hate. I wonder -if the beautiful young girl had a rejected lover?”</p> - -<p>He started when he was answered in the affirmative.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[146]</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, perhaps I am getting on the right track now! -Where is this man? Who is he?”</p> - -<p>“He is the manager of the company in which Miss -Vane was the leading lady. His name is Willis -Weston, and he may be seen every night on the boards -of the Olympia Theater.”</p> - -<p>“Ah-h, then I have seen him already! A clever -actor and a handsome man, on or off the stage. Perhaps -this may give me a clew. I shall look into his -past, and in the meantime, sir, as soon as the young -lady can safely give me an interview, please let me -know, for surely she may be able to throw some light -on the darkness of this mysterious case.”</p> - -<p>He bowed himself out, and Charley was about to -leave the room also when he was startled by the appearance -of Miss Montague’s maid, Suzette. She curtsied, -and said:</p> - -<p>“My mistress begins to feel a little better, sir, and -would be pleased to see you for a while in her boudoir.”</p> - -<p>“I will come at once,” he replied, following the maid -in his eagerness to be off with the old love, but saying -to himself humorously:</p> - -<p>“What fools men are, anyway! They would be lots -better off if they left the women alone and remained -bachelors all their lives, but instead of that they must<span class="pagenum">[147]</span> -always be getting into hot water over the pretty dears. -We are weak as children, where woman is concerned, -that’s the truth. Now, I wonder what is up with Rosalind? -I pray Heaven she does not treat me to a fit -of hysterics.”</p> - -<p>Suzette opened a door into a shaded rose-hung -boudoir, and disappeared.</p> - -<p>He stepped across the threshold and was alone with -Rosalind.</p> - -<p>The slighted beauty lay gracefully posing among the -silken pillows of an Oriental couch.</p> - -<p>She wore a negligee robe of soft white lansdowne, -embroidered in blue flowers that matched the striking -hue of her beautiful eyes. The golden lengths of -her thick hair flowed unconfined over her shoulders, -and her face, even to her lips, wore a bluish pallor of -illness and suffering.</p> - -<p>At Charley’s entrance a melancholy smile curved -her lips, and she extended her white hand, glittering -with diamonds, murmuring:</p> - -<p>“Dear Charley, I was really too ill to receive you. -See to what a plight your falsity has brought me. But -I hoped against hope you had relented, and wished -everything to be as before, so I sent for you. Ah, tell -me, dear, is it true?”</p> - -<p>Charley’s heart quickly sank like a stone in his<span class="pagenum">[148]</span> -breast, for he saw that his presentiment was right; hysterics -were impending, sure enough!</p> - -<p>He felt like swearing, but he controlled the impulse -and stood gazing at her, speechlessly, while she -raved on:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley, dearest, I’ve thought it all over until -my brain is almost wild, and I’ve decided that I cannot, -will not give you up to my rival! I have the -first, best claim, and I will yield it to no other. Ah, -say that you will love me still, that you will be true -to your vows!”</p> - -<p>“Here is a pretty pickle!” groaned the young man to -himself, in a sort of consternation at the situation, his -generous heart touched by her display of emotion, for -her beauty and her sorrow were very striking, almost -theatrical.</p> - -<p>But he pulled himself together, and said gently, with -an abashed air in his self-reproach:</p> - -<p>“Don’t say another word, please, Rosalind; you are -only making matters worse. It is too late!”</p> - -<p>“Too late!” she almost shrieked, and he answered -seriously:</p> - -<p>“Yes, forever, too late. I’ve proposed to the other -girl, and have been accepted.”</p> - -<p>A cry of rage burst from Rosalind’s lips, and her -blue eyes blazed with the fire of jealous hate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[149]</span></p> - -<p>She sat erect suddenly and shook her small, jeweled -fist close to his face.</p> - -<p>“Coward! Traitor! You have turned my love to -hate, and you shall pay dear for the slight you have -put upon me!”</p> - -<p>“Do you threaten me with a suit for breach of -promise?” he demanded laughingly.</p> - -<p>“Worse than that, far worse!” she answered fiercely, -adding: “I know who my secret rival is already—that -miserable little actress that used to be Berry Vining, -and I will have my revenge on you both! -Now go!”</p> - -<p>Charley obeyed her with alacrity!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[150]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE NEXT DAY.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Miss Montague’s headache lasted till the afternoon -of the next day, and she denied herself to every one -but her maid, keeping quiet, as she said, to overcome -the attack, but in reality plotting schemes for revenge -on her successful rival.</p> - -<p>Her seclusion ended, she appeared at luncheon, exquisitely -gowned, and with a becoming pallor that -witnessed her recent sufferings.</p> - -<p>But all the ladies at the table were pale, for that -matter, and they had pink eyelids, as if from recent -weeping, while in their demeanor to Rosalind was -mingled overweening pity and sympathetic tenderness -for her illness.</p> - -<p>So she condescended graciously:</p> - -<p>“Don’t let’s talk of it any more. I’m better now.”</p> - -<p>But it seemed to her, presently, that there was something -else in the air, and, glancing at a vacant chair, -she exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Why doesn’t Charley come to luncheon? Is he -sick? Is that why all of you look so tearful?”</p> - -<p>With that one of the girls choked back a sob and -answered bitterly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[151]</span></p> - -<p>“He isn’t sick, oh, no; much worse! He has gone -crazy!”</p> - -<p>“Hush, dearie!” admonished Madam Fortescue, -glancing significantly at the servant in waiting, while -she added, to Rosalind, kindly and with dignity:</p> - -<p>“The news of Charley’s escapade will keep till we -have finished luncheon.”</p> - -<p>After that no one had much appetite, and the four -soon adjourned to a private room where Rosalind said -brusquely:</p> - -<p>“If there’s anything to tell, let me hear it quickly—I -never could bear suspense.”</p> - -<p>As they hesitated, with great eyes of sorrow and -sympathy, she continued:</p> - -<p>“Why do you all look at me so strangely and pityingly? -Has Charley done something very bad indeed?”</p> - -<p>“He has gone crazy!” again answered Marie angrily, -mopping her wet eyes with her lace handkerchief.</p> - -<p>“It will break your heart!” sobbed Lucile, adding:</p> - -<p>“Dear Rosalind, please do not be angry with us -when you hear it. We are not to blame, and we will -love you all the more for the grief he has caused -you.”</p> - -<p>“My dear girls, you will drive poor Rosalind wild.<span class="pagenum">[152]</span> -Let me tell her the cruel truth at once,” exclaimed -Madam Fortescue, and taking the girl’s hand, tenderly, -in hers, she said tearfully:</p> - -<p>“I grieve to tell you that my nephew, Charley Bonair, -has to-day capped the climax of his follies by making -a clandestine marriage with the sick actress whom he -saved from the bear pit the night of the ball.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, heavens!” gasped Rosalind, in very genuine -horror and indignation, for she had not expected the -climax so soon.</p> - -<p>She sat gazing at the speaker with a pale, stricken -face, while she went on bitterly:</p> - -<p>“It seems Charley had known the girl before that -night. He met her first in the town where you live -before she went upon the stage, and fell in love with -her then, so he says. But she had some sort of a -strange disappearance, then, and he believed her dead -until coming home, unexpectedly, the night of our -grand ball, he saw her on the stage and knew her at -once for the missing girl. He was so agitated between -his duty to you and his love for her that he did -not make his presence known to us, but went out into -the grounds to overcome his agitation. There he had -the good fortune, as he calls it, of saving her life. -The romance of this incident increased his love to recklessness -so that he threw pride and duty to the winds<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> -and proposed to the girl yesterday. She accepted -the offer, and this morning he procured a minister, -and they were married, with the Clines as witnesses.”</p> - -<p>Lucile chimed in furiously:</p> - -<p>“He had the impudence to come and tell us all about -it when the thing was irrevocably done, and to beg -us to accept that nobody for a sister!”</p> - -<p>Rosalind would never be paler than now, as she -sat and listened, speechless with rage, at Charley’s -escapade.</p> - -<p>Where were all the clever plans she had made for -circumventing him now? All shattered to pieces by -this action of the ardent lover, who had cleverly forestalled -everything by his hasty wedding.</p> - -<p>“We will never accept her for a sister—never! We -will never forgive him for the slight to you whom -we loved already as a sister!” sobbed Marie, and at -this juncture Rosalind thought it was time to fall back, -half fainting, in her seat, but not to go entirely unconscious -until she had heard all there was to tell.</p> - -<p>They ran to chafe her face and hands and to drop -tender little kisses on her brow, until she seemed to -revive, and murmured faintly:</p> - -<p>“I am better now. Go on, tell me everything.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, we overwhelmed him with bitter reproaches,”<span class="pagenum">[154]</span> -declared Marie, “and we told him we -wanted nothing more to do with him, or with the low -nobody he has married.”</p> - -<p>“And he said—what?” demanded Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“He pleaded for her at first, and then when he saw -we were not to be placated, he grew angry, too, and -left the house, saying he would rather have his little -bride’s love than ours. So as soon as he left we -telegraphed father, in Washington, to come home at -once and see if he could do anything to break up the -match, for Charley had suddenly lost his mind and -married a low actress that we could never receive in -the family, to say nothing of the slight he had put -upon you!”</p> - -<p>“Cruel! cruel! Oh, my heart will break! I can -never hold up my head again for very shame; me, -Rosalind Montague, to be jilted for a creature like -that—the daughter of the New Market tailoress, a -woman that worked by the day in a shop!” groaned -Rosalind hysterically.</p> - -<p>“Then you know the girl?” asked Madam Fortescue.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she grew up in abject poverty there in New -Market. Her father drove a delivery wagon—till he -died—for the tailor his wife sewed for, and there<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> -were a host of children, and this girl, the youngest, -who grew up idle and rather pretty so that she cared -for nothing but flirting and flaunting about, never -soiling her hands with honest work. I knew that -Charley flirted with her a little, but mamma advised -me not to find fault with him, saying it wouldn’t -amount to anything. Soon after she disappeared from -the town and I never saw her again until that night -of the play. I was almost sure that Vera Vane was -little frisky, flirting Berry Vining, the little schemer, -that has cut me out of my lover!”</p> - -<p>They hastened to caress her again, assuring her of -their warm sympathy, and adding their unalterable -determination never to accept the scheming little actress -for a sister. Charley could never be their brother -again, either; they would punish him by treating him -as a stranger.</p> - -<p>“If he had told you that he loved her best and -wanted his freedom, it would not have seemed quite so -wicked, but when he told us he had done so, we did -not believe him, as you would have told us if such were -the case,” added Mrs. Fortescue.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how could he be totally false? He has never -breathed one word of all this to me. If he had I -should have freely confided in all of you. You know I<span class="pagenum">[156]</span> -have made no secret of my troubles,” sighed Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“Only wait till papa comes and he will find a way, -I’m sure, to break the marriage and bring poor Charley -back to his senses,” declared Marie, between tears and -anger.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[157]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A FAIR BRIDE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Charley Bonair had indeed gone away from his -sisters in an angry mood, stung by their reproaches and -embittered by their sharp abuse of his wife, the scheming -nobody, as they did not scruple to call her to his -face.</p> - -<p>He also, in the fullness of his happiness, had sent -off a telegram to his father before he had carried his -news up to Bonair, and it ran very simply:</p> - -<p>“Rosalind and I broke off recently, and I have to-day -married another girl who has the truest heart and fairest -face in the world, so that I confidently hope for -your forgiveness and your blessing.”</p> - -<p>Charley thought this was a masterly stroke, the -prompt confession of his mésalliance, and hoped much -from it, little dreaming of the malicious message that -followed it from his sisters, entreating Senator Bonair -to return home and do something or other to Charley -in punishment for the disgrace he had brought on the -family, marrying a scheming little actress, an out-and-out -nobody, and jilting his beautiful promised bride.</p> - -<p>In their anger, the sisters did not care to recall the<span class="pagenum">[158]</span> -praises they had bestowed on Berry for her beauty and -her clever acting, nor the pity they had felt for her -after the accident that so nearly ended her life. Her -unparalleled impudence in marrying Charley because -he asked her and because she loved him blotted out -everything else in her favor.</p> - -<p>But Charley, returning to the cottage, basked in -the smiles of his charming bride, and resolutely put -dull care behind him.</p> - -<p>It is wonderful what miracles love can work in a -day!</p> - -<p>Berenice, who had been convalescing slowly and -listlessly because her sad heart took but little interest -in life, had changed in a night and day to a lovely, -hopeful creature whose brown eyes glowed with love -and joy, while her thin cheeks had put on the roses of -nature under Charley’s fond, eager glance, that was to -her like the sun shining upon a flower, unfolding it to -glorious bloom.</p> - -<p>The happy excitement had loaned her such fictitious -strength that the nurse had permitted her to sit up -in a chair for the wedding, and Mrs. Cline had gone -to a shop and bought for her a simple white robe with -white laces and ribbons to make it look bridelike.</p> - -<p>Thus attired, and with her little hand in Charley’s -she had murmured timidly, after the minister, the sweet<span class="pagenum">[159]</span> -words of the service that made her the sweetest and -happiest of brides.</p> - -<p>When it was all over they had all gone out quietly -and left them alone for a blissful half hour.</p> - -<p>Charley knelt down by his bonnie bride and clasped -her to his heart.</p> - -<p>“My queen!” he murmured, kissing her hands, her -face and hair in an ecstasy of triumphant love.</p> - -<p>She drooped against his breast, very tired, but very -happy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I do not know how to realize my bliss!” she -murmured. “I am really your wife, Charley, your own -wife, and you are my husband! Ah, it does not seem -possible! I loved you in vain so long, I almost fear -I am dreaming.”</p> - -<p>“It is no dream, but the sweetest reality in the world—to -me!” he cried ardently, stopping the words on -her lips with kisses. And so they went on, until Mrs. -Cline returned and said:</p> - -<p>“Now, my dear sir, you must go out and leave -your lady to rest. She has stayed up too long already.”</p> - -<p>Charley obeyed reluctantly, and beckoning her to -the door, said, in a whisper:</p> - -<p>“You will have to prepare a room for me down<span class="pagenum">[160]</span> -here, Mrs. Cline, for I am determined to stay and -nurse my lovely bride back to health.”</p> - -<p>“That can be quickly done, sir. Her improvement -is miraculous already, and will, no doubt, continue -with due care. As to a room, I can make you -comfortable, no doubt, but you will miss the grandeur -of Bonair,” the woman answered, with a curtsey.</p> - -<p>Charley answered, with a laugh:</p> - -<p>“I may have to miss those grandeurs always, henceforward, -Mrs. Cline, for if my father should be as -angry as my sisters are he will probably disinherit me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, no fear of that I think, sir, and you his only -son, the apple of his eye, as it were. And, dear me, -sir, if he should be angry at you, why, what would he -be at me and Sam for aiding and abetting your marriage? -He would very likely turn us out of this -place!” cried the woman uneasily, for her many years -at Bonair had endeared the place to her heart.</p> - -<p>“If he does I will find you another place as good, -so don’t begin to worry yet. Let us look on the bright -side as long as we can!” cried sanguine Charley.</p> - -<p>And from that moment he began to live up to his -creed, never uttering a word of apprehension as to -the outcome of his marriage.</p> - -<p>He had followed up his telegram to his father with -a long explanatory letter in which he did full justice<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> -to the charms of his bride; but to neither one came -any reply, although up at Bonair the sisters had received -a speedy answer that read briefly:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“I am horrified, but do not see anything that I can -do. Will leave at once in special car for home.”</p> -</div> - -<p>So up at Bonair, as the days slipped away, they -began to expect the master, but they kept it secret -from Charley, whom they scornfully said was keeping -up his dignity down yonder in his fool’s paradise.</p> - -<p>In fact, Charley did not go near them again.</p> - -<p>He had a sense of bitter outrage in the cavalier treatment -they had accorded him, and kept away from -Bonair trying to forget them in the new and delightful -role of benedict.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, the news had got into the daily -papers and created its due sensation.</p> - -<p>Reporters flocked to the keeper’s cottage, and -Charley submitted to interviews for the sake of setting -his bride right with the public. Meager details of the -romance were given out and created considerable sensation; -but the still delicate bride saw no one as yet, -although the members of her company called in a body, -headed by Mr. Weston, to offer congratulations.</p> - -<p>Charley entertained them cordially, excusing Berenice -on the score of her weakness, and, saying he hoped<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> -she would soon get strong enough to go away with -him on their honeymoon trip. He added genially, that -she could never tread the boards again. She must -content herself with entertaining her husband.</p> - -<p>He took pains to show great friendliness for Mr. -Weston at whose secret pain he very easily guessed, -and his cordiality won him a true friend whose worth -was latterly to be well proved.</p> - -<p>So the days slipped away, and Berry would never -forget that morning when she first sat up for the day -in a pretty house gown of rosy pink cashmere, cascaded -in lace, that Charley himself had gone shopping to buy -for his darling. She glanced up as Charley entered, -and at sight of his eager face, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“What has happened, dearest, that you look so excited?”</p> - -<p>He clasped her to his heart, covering the sweet face -with ardent kisses till she laughingly cried for mercy.</p> - -<p>Then he gave her the great bunch of pink roses he -had brought, and explained:</p> - -<p>“I have great news, my darling girl. I have just -heard that father arrived home unexpectedly last evening, -and although it seems strange and rather discouraging -that he has not sent word down to me, still -I shall do my duty by going up to call on him, and -if he has forgiven me I shall bring him down to call<span class="pagenum">[163]</span> -on his new daughter. If he should be angry I will -soon return alone!” And with a stifled sigh of keen -anxiety, he embraced his trembling bride and hurried -away.</p> - -<p>Left alone, she threw herself down nervously to rest -on her couch, quite frightened at the idea of meeting -the great, rich senator, her husband’s father.</p> - -<p>She need not have been so nervous and uneasy had -she but known.</p> - -<p>Hours slipped away, and Charley did not return, -and her suspense grew almost unbearable.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cline came in at last with such a pale, indignant -face that the nervous young bride nearly fainted -with dread.</p> - -<p>“Something dreadful must have happened to make -you look so strange,” she cried uneasily, adding: “I -fear you have had bad news for me.”</p> - -<p>Her heart nearly stopped its beating when Mrs. Cline -answered angrily:</p> - -<p>“Bad! I should say so, but try to hear it the best -you can, dear young lady, for that high and mighty -man, your husband’s father, has had Mr. Charley arrested -and clapped in jail on a charge of insanity!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[164]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">BRIBING A BRIDE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Mrs. Cline’s startling announcement was like a bolt -of lightning falling from a clear sky.</p> - -<p>The young bride uttered one horrified cry, then fell -back in her chair, half fainting, her big, frightened -brown eyes staring wildly at Mrs. Cline, who, in a very -tempest of excitement, continued to rage.</p> - -<p>“Never heard of such high-handed villainy in my -life, never! No wonder you look so white and scared, -my dear young lady! Here, drink this wine to nerve -you while I tell you the rest.”</p> - -<p>She pressed the glass to Berry’s lips and forced her -to swallow a few mouthfuls, then began again:</p> - -<p>“Try to bear it the best you can, for it can’t be kept -from you, all this bad news, and you must keep your -wits about you to plan something to do for your husband. -Yes, cry all you want to, it’ll relieve your heart; -and this outrage is enough to make the very angels -weep! The servants at Bonair tell a terrible tale about -the fuss between the father and son! They say there -was an awful scene between them when Mr. Charley -went in this morning. The senator was in a tearing-down<span class="pagenum">[165]</span> -rage, and would not listen to a word of excuse -for his marriage, but cursed and abused him, and finally -turned him out of doors, disinherited. And the worst -of it was that he had already caused a warrant to be -got, arresting him for insanity, and the officers took him -just as he was leaving his father’s house, all broke up -with sorrow and despair.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, Heaven! my poor husband!” moaned Berenice, -heartbroken and bewildered.</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t it an outrage!” cried the woman indignantly. -“And to climax the meanness, Mrs. Bonair, -what else do you think that heartless old hunks of -a senator did? He got mad at my husband for letting -the wedding be at our home, and has discharged him -from his position at Bonair, and ordered him to vacate -this cottage as soon as he can pack up his goods.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Heaven! that you should suffer for our fault. -This is terrible. It were better I had perished in -Zilla’s clutches than to live and involve poor Charley -and his friends in such misery!” sobbed Berry.</p> - -<p>“Don’t look at it that way, dear young lady,” condoled -Mrs. Cline, who, having now blurted out the -whole story, became less excited and eager to soothe the -distressed young bride, so she continued:</p> - -<p>“Bless your heart, we can soon get another place—sooner, -I expect, than the senator can suit himself to<span class="pagenum">[166]</span> -another man. And we aren’t penniless, either. We -have a tidy bit of savings put by, besides the nice gift -of money, so don’t worry over that! The thing is to -get Mr. Charley out of jail as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>“But, oh, how shall we do it? It is cruel, cruel to -have placed him there! We know well he is not insane!” -wept Berry.</p> - -<p>“Of course he is not,” agreed the woman; “and my -husband says a lawyer must be got at once and set to -work to get him out of that as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>“Hark! the doorbell!” cried Berry, and Mrs. Cline -went to obey the summons.</p> - -<p>She returned quickly with an official-looking letter.</p> - -<p>“It is for you—brought down by one of Senator -Bonair’s servants, who will wait for the answer,” she -said, in high excitement.</p> - -<p>The startled bride took the aggressive-looking envelope, -with fingers that shook as she tore it open.</p> - -<p>Her eyes were so blurred by tears she could scarcely -read, but presently it all came to her that Senator -Bonair was making her a cold business proposition to -consent to a prompt divorce from his son upon the -payment of a handsome sum of money.</p> - -<p>The tears rushed to her eyes—tears of burning indignation—and -her heart beat suffocatingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[167]</span></p> - -<p>“What does the old villain want of you, if I may -ask?” queried the curious Mrs. Cline.</p> - -<p>Berry handed her the letter to read, saying bitterly:</p> - -<p>“He wishes to bribe me—Charley’s bride of a week—to -consent to a divorce.”</p> - -<p>“The mean old tyrant! He ought to be hung!” ejaculated -the woman, as her eyes devoured the curt note. -She handed it back, and asked:</p> - -<p>“What shall you say to this insult, dearie?”</p> - -<p>“Only give me a pen and I will show you!” cried -Berenice, her eyes flashing through their bitter tears. -She seized it and wrote, in a nervous, trembling hand, -across the back of the senator’s sheet:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Those whom God has joined together, let not man -put asunder!”</p> -</div> - -<p>To these words the bride wrote her full name, in a -large, aggressive hand:</p> - -<p>“Berenice Vining Bonair.”</p> - -<p>“I guess that will settle him for good!” laughed Mrs. -Cline, as she handed Berry a fresh envelope to address -to Senator Bonair.</p> - -<p>This done, she carried the letter quickly to the waiting -messenger, saying, with a proud toss of the head:</p> - -<p>“There’s a letter for your master, and much good<span class="pagenum">[168]</span> -may it do him! There’s some folks whose principles -he can’t buy with his yellow gold!”</p> - -<p>She was turning to retrace her steps when she saw -Mr. Weston coming up to the door with a pale, excited -face.</p> - -<p>“Ah, good morning!” he exclaimed courteously. “I -hope the invalid—Mrs. Bonair—can see me this evening -for a few minutes. I have just heard the shocking -news about her husband, and came to see her to -offer my services to do anything she wishes, providing, -of course, she has no nearer friends she would -prefer to act for her in the case.”</p> - -<p>“Bless you, sir, I don’t think she knows anybody -in San Francisco but us two, and poor Sam is so upset -with his discharge off the place, and moving orders -at the same time, that I don’t believe he hardly knows -where he’s at, sir; and it seems like Heaven must have -sent you to my poor lady’s relief!” cried Mrs. Cline, -ushering him straight into Berry’s presence without -thinking it necessary to ask permission.</p> - -<p>Berry was sobbing, bitterly, with her face in her -hands, and she looked up with a start that made him -say deprecatingly:</p> - -<p>“Forgive this intrusion, but I came to see if I -couldn’t help you. I know the outrage your husband -has suffered, and he will need a friend to look after<span class="pagenum">[169]</span> -his interests. Do you wish me to act as your friend -in this matter?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, this is very noble in you, Mr. Weston. A -friend in need is a friend indeed. I accept your offer -in the same spirit it is offered, and am most grateful,” -faltered Berry, giving him her hand which he pressed, -cordially, then released, saying:</p> - -<p>“Now I am very glad, indeed, that I came. Of -course, this absurd charge cannot be proved against -your husband, and the whole affair is spite work, still -he may be imprisoned for days and kept in suspense -when prompt action might procure speedy trial of his -case and consequent freedom. Having your leave to -represent you in this case, I shall engage a lawyer, who, -with a writ of habeas corpus, can secure Mr. Bonair’s -immediate release and trial on the groundless charge.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank Heaven—and you!” cried the bride fervently. -“Oh, then perhaps he need not, poor boy, spend -the terrible night in prison!”</p> - -<p>“That I cannot promise you certainly, but I will -make all possible haste to restore him to you quickly. -In order to do this I must be going. Farewell, and -keep up a brave heart. This is only a temporary affliction; -it will soon be over,” he added cheerfully, bowing -himself out, leaving Berry with a lighter heart, though -her tears flowed fast.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[170]</span></p> - -<p>“You are clean wore out with your troubles, poor -soul!” cried Mrs. Cline. “Now you must lie down -and rest a while, so as not to get sick again, won’t you? -For we shall have our hands full now, me a-packing -up, and Sam a-looking out for a place to move to, -see? But we shan’t desert you, you poor lamb, nor -Mr. Charley, either; for no matter where we go, you -can come with us, and he can, too, until he gets fixed -for that honeymoon trip he’s been planning this week! -Though dear knows if he can afford it now, because -he has only an allowance from his father, and I don’t -know if he has saved any of it or not! But there’s -money coming to him from his mother’s estate before -long, and that’ll fix him up nicely, you see.”</p> - -<p>While she chattered on, Mrs. Cline got Berry to lie -down on her little white couch for her much-needed -rest, and then she went out to see to the packing up -of her household goods, preparatory to giving up the -cottage to another tenant.</p> - -<p>Many tears fell as she moved about her work with -the assistance of her yellow-faced Chinese boy of all -work, for she had come here a bride, eighteen years -ago, and fondly hoped to spend her life in the cottage -with Sam. But fate had willed otherwise, and -with a sad heart she prepared to go.</p> - -<p>But not for all that did Mrs. Cline repent for one<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> -moment her kindness to Mr. Charley and his bonnie -bride, although that had got her into trouble with the -master and banishment from Bonair.</p> - -<p>“I’d do the same thing over again, if I knew beforehand -what was going to happen!” she vowed -stoutly.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[172]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">FORGETTING THE WORLD.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The time is late summer on the bleak coast of Cornwall, -a year and three months since the day when -Charley Bonair walked out of the courtroom in San -Francisco, cleared of the charge of insanity brought -by his nearest and dearest relatives, and freed by the -efforts of the man who had loved Berry so loyally that -his friendship became her stay in the time of her sore -need.</p> - -<p>Grateful to those who had befriended him, embittered -by persecution, Charley Bonair and his lovely -bride had exiled themselves within a week after his -acquittal on the charge of insanity. The young man -still had some means left, and gathering everything -together, he sailed for foreign shores with Berry, having -first instructed a lawyer to attend to the rights of -his inheritance from his mother when the property -was divided, on his sister’s coming of age.</p> - -<p>That was long ago, and many things had transpired -in that time.</p> - -<p>To begin with, the disinherited son, never used to -economy before, had recklessly spent the funds he had -in hand, traveling expensively, showing Berry the wonders<span class="pagenum">[173]</span> -of the Old World, and answering to her timid -remonstrances on his extravagance that he had plenty -to last six months, and by then Marie would come of -age and he would get his portion of five hundred thousand -dollars from his mother.</p> - -<p>And, oh, the days, the weeks, the months, how happily -they had gone to the young pair of married lovers!</p> - -<p>They had done the Continent leisurely at their own -sweet will, they had wandered hither and thither with -not a care save the silent grief of the young husband -over the estrangement from his own people, and as to -Berry, she had found out long ago, by a cablegram, -that her mother was still living, not dead, as the vile -fortune teller had falsely declared.</p> - -<p>On getting this news the young husband had -promptly sent his mother-in-law a sum of money sufficient -to keep her in ease and comfort a year, so that -Berry’s heart was at ease, and she gave herself up -wholly to her happiness. They adored each other with -a true devotion that never grew less. They were all -in all to each other:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent0">A book of verses underneath the bough, -</div><div class="indent0">A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou -</div><div class="indent0">Beside me singing in the wilderness, -</div><div class="indent0">And wilderness were paradise enow! -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>Whatever the carping world might say of the millionaire<span class="pagenum">[174]</span> -senator’s only son’s mésalliance, to him it had -been a salvation, turning him from evil courses to a -purer, better life, making out of him the noble man -nature had intended him to be.</p> - -<p>His lovely bride grew more charming every day, to -his enraptured eyes, and he bitterly regretted the pride -that had prevented his family from seeing and knowing -the girl whose flawless beauty and simple goodness -must, if permitted the opportunity, have won its -way to every heart.</p> - -<p>He grew hot and angry when he remembered how -bitterly they had railed against his darling, saying to -himself that it was not like them to be so harsh and -unforgiving, and it was surely Rosalind who had set -them onto such cruelty, for she had threatened him -with dire vengeance, and this was how she had kept her -word. Once he had pitied Rosalind, but now he hated -her for her malice that had cost him so dear.</p> - -<p>He got another taste of it when the time rolled -around for the division of his mother’s fortune, for -his lawyer wrote him that Senator Bonair, as sole -trustee, refused to surrender his son’s portion, still -claiming he was insane and unfit to have the use of -the money.</p> - -<p>Then it was Bonair’s wrath waved high.</p> - -<p>“Berry, darling, will you excuse me if I go out and<span class="pagenum">[175]</span> -swear a little outdoors? Oh, yes, I know I promised -you never to swear again, but a reformed man must -relapse at times, you know, and really this seems to -me an occasion for profuse profanity!” he said grimly, -to the beautiful creature who smiled tenderly at him -and answered:</p> - -<p>“But do not stay out long, dearest, or I will not -forgive you breaking your promise to me.”</p> - -<p>He was not absent very long, and when he returned, -he said:</p> - -<p>“On second thought I didn’t swear at all; I wrote my -lawyer to bring suit against my father at once for the -payment of my money.”</p> - -<p>“Do not worry over it, dear. We have each other, -and are happy as we are,” Berry answered, with a -coaxing smile.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, we are happy as we are, but our money -will not last much longer, little one, and you have -not been well lately, and we will need a lot of money -for that sweet secret you whispered to me yesterday,” -the young man answered, with a new, dignified gravity -very becoming.</p> - -<p>Berry’s lovely color deepened, and the glance of her -brown eyes was simply adorable.</p> - -<p>“But you know we must not travel about, now,” -she murmured. “We must settle down and live quietly<span class="pagenum">[176]</span> -until June, you know, as the doctor said, so it will not -take so much money to live as when we are always on -the wing. We can take a tiny little house or a little -suite of rooms, and keep house with one maid, don’t -you see; or if we cannot afford the maid, why, I can -do the cooking myself, you see. Do you know I can -make tea and toast, and broil steak, and serve eggs -in most any fashion, sir?” she added smilingly.</p> - -<p>“I am very glad to hear it, but we need not come -to that. I think we can have the little suite of rooms -and the maid of all work. My lawyer will be glad -enough to furnish me the means of subsistence while -he is prosecuting my suit,” the young husband answered -confidently.</p> - -<p>The plan was carried out, and by Berry’s wish they -made their little home in London, for she was tired, -she said, of the foreign lingo she couldn’t understand, -and wanted to stay among people who spoke her mother -tongue.</p> - -<p>So they came from France and Italy, where they -had passed the winter months, to London, where, in a -comfortable but not luxurious suite of rooms, with -a buxom maid of all work, they lived quietly and -happily until May. Berenice devoted her time of seclusion -in studying the languages under the tutorship -of Charley, who was quite proficient in that line.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[177]</span></p> - -<p>Thus quietly and happily they waited an event that -was to crown their wedded lives with happiness.</p> - -<p>Alas! fortune frowned on their springing hopes. -Their little baby died, soon after birth, and was laid -tenderly away in a wee green grave. But for over six -weeks, a battle of physicians went on, with grim death -in the foreground, trying to snatch Berry from their -fostering care.</p> - -<p>Never till now did Charley Bonair realize the depth -and strength of his love for his precious wife. Sharing -the vigils of the doctors and nurses with ceaseless -care, he grew to feel to his heart’s core all that she -was to him, and knew that if she died, life would be unendurable -to him forever after.</p> - -<p>Oh, what joy when the wavering balance of life and -death dropped her into her husband’s arms again, with -the chances in her favor for recovery!</p> - -<p>While she lay so ill, he had learned to pray, this man -who had almost forgotten his God, and now he sent -up a prayer of thanksgiving for her restoration.</p> - -<p>While she was slowly convalescing, the head physician -ordered that Mrs. Bonair should be taken, as soon -as she was able to be moved, down to the sea, naming -an obscure and rude little fishing village on the -coast of Cornwall as the preferred situation.</p> - -<p>“She will have absolute calm and quiet there, and<span class="pagenum">[178]</span> -it is very essential to her shattered nerves and frail -condition of health,” he said.</p> - -<p>“We shall be buried alive,” Charley said grimly to -his wife when he took her there, but she answered, with -her usual sunny good nature:</p> - -<p>“At least we shall be buried in the same grave, so -I am content.”</p> - -<p>“And I,” he answered as happily.</p> - -<p>Thus we find them, in late August, by the sea, where -Berry recovered her health and spirits again, and so -in love with the free, wild life of the unconventional -village of hardy fisher folk that both were loath to -leave. So they lingered on, from day to day, saying “it -is so pleasant staying, and so cheap living, we will not -go away until we get news from California of the success -of the suit for his mother’s fortune.”</p> - -<p>Since she grew well and strong again, Berry had -taken up her studies with zest, by Charley’s wish, -trying to make herself equal in education to any position -she might be called on to fill in the future.</p> - -<p>For she knew now that, dearly as he loved her, -there was a silent ache in his warm heart for those who -cast him off in anger, and that he hoped against hope -for a reconciliation at some future day when his -bride’s true worth and beauty shall be known and -acknowledged.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">TURN OF THE TIDE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The lawsuit had dragged on interminably for six -months, and it seemed as if a decision would never -be reached, so that Charley was getting very poor, -indeed, and very impatient, although, to tell the truth, -he was finding that love in a cottage was very charming, -after all, as there were funds enough coming from -his lawyer still to keep the young pair in bread and -cheese and a little more.</p> - -<p>In the meantime Charley’s two beautiful sisters -had both married in June, and the newspapers on both -sides of the Atlantic had duly chronicled the grand -double wedding at Bonair, when Marie and Lucile had -wedded the rich New Yorkers to whom they had been -betrothed before Charley’s mad marriage. They had -crossed the Atlantic on their wedding tour and were -now in Switzerland. Along with reports of the wedding -was an item that made Charley throw down the -paper he was reading, with a sigh from the bottom -of his heart.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Berry, we are in hard luck now, to be sure! -Dad will never be reconciled to us now, never! He -is going to give me Rosalind for a stepmother!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[180]</span></p> - -<p>Berry was lounging on the sands in an old blue boating -suit, her hat lying at her feet and her curly hair -blowing about her tanned face and rosy cheeks that -suddenly grew pale, as she turned a solemn pair of -eyes on his face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no, he must not!” she exclaimed vehemently.</p> - -<p>Charley Bonair gave a curt, angry laugh, replying:</p> - -<p>“Easy enough to say, but how are we going to prevent -it, pray?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, how, indeed?” Berry answered, turning a -troubled gaze back to the sea, with the white caps -rolling in, the seagulls flitting about with their strange -cries. She had no more to say, and Charley picked up -the paper again and said:</p> - -<p>“The engagement has been authoritatively announced, -and my silly old dad has commenced the -erection of a palace in Washington where she will reign -a queen at the next session of Congress. Isn’t it a -burning shame?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—she is not worthy of your father, if he is as -good and kind as you say he is in spite of his injustice -to you,” Berry replied, with palpable chagrin, her -brooding brown eyes still upon the sea as it gleamed -in the morning sunshine, fairly dazzling her sight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[181]</span></p> - -<p>The young man frowned and sighed, then burst -out frankly:</p> - -<p>“It’s true all I said of him, Berry, darling. He used -to be just the dearest dad in the world, kind, loving, -and indulgent to a fault, and so were my pretty sisters, -too; and I never dreamed they could turn against me -in the way they did, and hold out spiteful all this time. -But I see how it is now! It’s that scheming Rosalind -setting them on, determined to get the Bonair -millions for herself, either through the father or the -son. Her mercenary spirit and her thirst for revenge -have led her on to this, and poor dad has been like wax -in her clever hands, so she has molded him to her -will. Berry, I always heard that a handsome woman -could make a fool of the smartest old man, and now -I see it’s true. It’s flattered vanity, that’s what it is, -or an old man might always see that no pretty young -woman loves him for himself alone. It’s always for -some cash he has in hand! Oh, Berry, why did you -make me swear off on profanity? Surely this is an -occasion for it!” he groaned.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t Charley, dear! It would not help things -any,” she answered gently.</p> - -<p>“At least it would relieve my feelings,” he answered -ruefully, adding whimsically:</p> - -<p>“Say, Berry, see that old fisherman tacking in to<span class="pagenum">[182]</span> -shore, below there? Black Dobbins they call him, and -he is the most picturesque swearer you ever heard -of on the Cornwall coast. Say, I’ll go down there and -give him a crown to swear a blue streak of lightning -for me. Don’t you listen, darling, unless you want to -have that creepy feeling running down your spine.”</p> - -<p>He strolled away, but before he got to Black Dobbins, -Berry called after him hastily:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley, come back! You didn’t notice the -letters with your mail; you were so angry over the -news. Here’s a letter from your lawyer in California, -and another from those dear, good Clines.”</p> - -<p>“Read them while I attend to business,” he returned, -keeping on, and saying to the fisherman:</p> - -<p>“What luck, Dobbins?”</p> - -<p>The net was nearly empty, and Dobbins replied -with a string of appalling oaths to which Charley listened -with perfect complaisance, after which he threw -the angry fisherman a silver crown, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Those are precisely my sentiments, Dobbins. Accept -this token of my appreciation!”</p> - -<p>While the man gaped in amazement, he laughed -again and turned on his heel, going back to his wife.</p> - -<p>“I feel better! That fellow comforted me. He -swore at his ill luck and I applied all the ‘swear words’<span class="pagenum">[183]</span> -to Rosalind, and paid him a crown,” he said drolly. -“Ah, my dear, you look brighter! Any luck?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley, Charley!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Berry, Berry!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t laugh at me, you dear old silly! I can -hardly find words to tell you, but—but”—radiantly—“our -luck has turned at last, Charley. You have won!”</p> - -<p>She flung herself, tumultuously, into his arms, regardless -of Black Dobbins, gazing curiously from a -distance, and joyfully fingering the generous crown, -and Charley hugged her tight, crying:</p> - -<p>“Hurrah! hurrah! Five hundred thousand dollars -for you and me, little lovey-dovey, and now you shall -be a little queen! I shall deck you out in silks and -laces and diamonds, and buy you an automobile, sure; -and we shall be as happy as the day is long!”</p> - -<p>“We are happy as that now, and we could not be -any happier if we had all your father’s millions. All -we wish is his good will,” Berry answered seriously; -then drawing back from his embrace, she added:</p> - -<p>“That old man is staring at us; perhaps thinking -we have gone suddenly mad! Sit down and read your -letter like a dignified, married man, now.”</p> - -<p>He obeyed, and found that all she had said was true.</p> - -<p>The suit was won. His father’s lawyers had given -up and the case was definitely closed. Senator Bonair<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> -indeed had sailed for Europe some time previous, -and perhaps his son had seen him somewhere before -this. He hoped, fervently, that they might meet and -make up their quarrel before the consummation of the -senator’s reported engagement to the beautiful belle, -Miss Montague. Otherwise it was certain, in the event -of the marriage, that Charley would never get a -dollar of his father’s money.</p> - -<p>“Dear old dad, it is not his money as much as his -good will that I covet!” cried the young man, adding:</p> - -<p>“Ah, Berry, how glorious it would be to have you -in Washington next winter, queening it over my -father’s new house instead of hateful Rosalind. You -are so lovely, so winning, I predict you would carry -society by storm.”</p> - -<p>“There’s no danger of my ever having an opportunity -to do so, but so long as I can queen it over -your heart I do not care,” she answered lightly, though -her heart beat high at his words of praise.</p> - -<p>She was only a woman, after all, and she longed -to show Charley’s proud relations that she was worthy -of his love, and that she had made a better man of him -by her tenderness; but it could never be. They would -never forget she was born in a lowly cot, wreathed -in morning glories, instead of a lordly castle. She -would not have cared so much only she would like to<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> -win their favor for Charley’s sake, because it would -make him so happy.</p> - -<p>She turned to the letter from the Clines, who were -doing well in another place in California, and who related -the news of the double marriage and reported -engagement, as they had just read in the newspaper, -and closed with their dear love and respect to Mr. -Charley and his bonnie wife.</p> - -<p>And now the young husband began eagerly, with -shining eyes:</p> - -<p>“It is more than likely father will be in London, -now. Oh, Berry, what if we go up there and try for -a reconciliation? Perhaps his heart may have melted -by now.”</p> - -<p>“Dearest, do you remember what the doctor said? -I must not go away from the sea till the last of September. -But although I cannot go with you, there is -nothing to hinder your going alone. I can stay here -with the maid till you come back to me. See, I will not -be selfish. Although I came between you and your -father’s heart, my dearest wish is to see you friends -again, even though he should never speak to me. Oh, -go, go, my dearest love, and try to make your peace -with him!”</p> - -<p>“Darling little angel, I will take you at your word, -for my heart yearns to my silly old dad, that’s a fact,”<span class="pagenum">[186]</span> -he cried eagerly, and before night he was en route for -London, leaving Berry at the cottage alone with the -buxom maid, who, to dry her mistress’ tears, immediately -proceeded to retail all the news of the village.</p> - -<p>Had she heard about the grand, rich gentleman up -at the inn, in the hollow, who had sickened with smallpox -the very day he arrived, and was lying at death’s -door up there without a nurse or a doctor, for everybody -had fled the pestilence in alarm, and there was no -one to care for him but the valet, who cursed the cowards, -and was waiting on his master all by himself, -doing the best he could, promising loads of money for -help, but no one would believe his tale of riches, or -that <a id="Ref_186" href="#BRef_186">his master was</a> an American lord, standing up close -to the very president himself. His name? It was -Bonny Hair or Bonny Air, or something very like it.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[187]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A FRIEND INDEED.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The loquacious maid who had been pouring out -her story without a single period, now paused for -breath, and Berry stared at her with wide, wondering -brown eyes.</p> - -<p>The name of the sick American, as rendered by the -maid, caught her instant attention.</p> - -<p>“Bonny Hair, or Bonny Air—something like that,” -said the maid, and how like it sounded the name of -Bonair.</p> - -<p>A quick suspicion stirred Berry’s mind into agitation.</p> - -<p>“Why, it might be Charley’s own dear father lying -there ill, and deserted by the stupid, fearsome fisher -folk, helpless, for all of his millions, to secure a nurse!”</p> - -<p>Her brown eyes flashed, and she rose up hastily.</p> - -<p>“Hannah, I’m an American, too, and I’m going up -there to nurse the old man. I cannot let my fellow -countryman die for lack of a friend.”</p> - -<p>“But, oh, my dear mistress, it’s that terrible smallpox. -You wouldn’t dare! You would catch it and -die.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[188]</span></p> - -<p>“No, Hannah, I’m immune. I had the disease years -ago, way back in my old New Jersey home, and am -not even pitted, you see, save two deep scars where it -does not show. So I shall go, and at once, leaving you -to care for the home till I return.”</p> - -<p>With Berry to make up her mind was to act. She -dressed herself simply and comfortably, and packed a -suit case with necessary clothing, after which she went -to a drug store and made some purchases. After -leaving a letter for Charley, she hired the nearest conveyance -to take her to the inn where she meant to -take up the part of a good Samaritan.</p> - -<p>The driver was so frightened when he saw the yellow -flag waving from the gate of the inn that he refused -to go within a square of the house, and she -paid him and walked the rest of the way, with her -luggage and her bundles.</p> - -<p>How lonely and deserted looked the weather-beaten -old inn with the doors tight shut and the curtains -down, as if death already brooded over the house.</p> - -<p>Berry pulled the knocker several times, loudly, before -she had any response, and then the valet, unkempt -and unshorn, himself answered the door and gazed in -surprise at the beautiful girl standing expectant with -her luggage at her feet.</p> - -<p>He bowed, then stammered:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[189]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, miss, you had better go right away. Didn’t -you see that yellow flag at the gate? There’s a case of -smallpox in the house, and no travelers are taken in -now.”</p> - -<p>“Where is the landlord?” she asked, and the man -answered furiously:</p> - -<p>“The cowardly rascal ran away, with his servants, -and left me alone here with my sick master; and although -the fellow promised to send me a nurse or doctor, -or both, not a hair have I seen of either yet, and -here I am with Senator Bonair on my hands, ill as he -can be, and I daren’t leave him to hunt for any one -to help me; and even if I went they would shun me -like a wild beast, fearing the contagion. It’s a burning -shame, so it is; but I’ll not run away like a coward, -though, belike, I’ll be taking the disease myself and -dying of it, too.”</p> - -<p>His mouth flew wide open as Berry said calmly:</p> - -<p>“I am the nurse for Senator Bonair, and I shall vaccinate -you at once—what is your name?”</p> - -<p>“John Tousey, please, miss.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, John; take my luggage to a comfortable -room, please. And the next thing will be to vaccinate -you so that if you should contract the disease -you will only have it in a light form. I came prepared -for this,” and making him bare his arm she took<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> -a lancet, scratching a small spot on it, with outward -nerve and inward quaking, feeling, when the blood was -drawn, that queer sickness that presages fainting. -Overcoming the weakness with a strong effort of will, -she duly used her vaccine point, much to the man’s relief, -for his countenance brightened, and he exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Bless you, miss! I’m so glad you came, and I -hope this will save me from that awful scourge. I -began to think the old landlord lied, when he said -that he’d send us the nurse and doctor.”</p> - -<p>“I was told at the drug store that the doctor was -ill himself, so there was none to come but me,” the -nurse replied, adding:</p> - -<p>“But I know how to treat the case very well myself, -as the disease ran through my own family once, -and there’s more in the nursing than the medicine, so -lead me to your master and we’ll see what is to be -done.”</p> - -<p>With joyful alacrity, the man preceded her to the -darkened room where lay her millionaire father-in-law -in the terrible plight of a smallpox patient at -the worst stage, without benefit of doctor or skillful -nurse.</p> - -<p>Berenice took hold of everything with an ease that -fairly charmed John Tousey, evolving comfort out of<span class="pagenum">[191]</span> -chaos, and soon making the sick man more comfortable -in every way.</p> - -<p>The larder was well filled, so that, although isolated -from their kind, they were in no danger of starving. -Berry took up her burden with a cheerful heart, -thinking:</p> - -<p>“Although Senator Bonair may despise me for being -a poor cottage girl, it is well for him now that I am -skilled in homely accomplishments, that I may minister -the better to his needs.”</p> - -<p>She wondered, as she went busily about her work, -when Charley would return and what he would think -of the task she had undertaken. He would be disappointed -at finding her gone, but he could not blame -her, could not think she was in the wrong.</p> - -<p>She had written to him sweetly:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“I have isolated myself from you for a time, my -dearest love, but when I tell you why I am sure you -will be glad for me to do this act of kindness.</p> - -<p>“I heard that a man who must surely, from his name, -be your own father, was up at the inn, very low with -smallpox, and that every one but his valet had deserted -the poor man, and he was likely to die without doctor -or nurse, so I thought it was my plain duty to come -and nurse him.</p> - -<p>“There is no danger for me, you know, because I -have had the disease, and I also know how to treat<span class="pagenum">[192]</span> -it, so do not worry over me, but go and get vaccinated -as soon as you can and try and get some good -doctor to come and see the patient.</p> - -<p>“Dearest, try to rest easy. You can hear from me -every day this way. I will wave a white flag from the -window every day at noon. That will mean all is -going on right. Be patient, I will do all I can for the -dad you love so well.</p> - -<p class="ir2 pminus1">“<span class="smcap">Berenice.</span>”</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[193]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A GENEROUS OFFER.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Poor Charley, returning next day from London, depressed -and discouraged at not seeing his father, was -dazed to find his sweet wife gone, and to get her letter -of explanation.</p> - -<p>But after the first shock of surprise, and trouble, his -warm heart thrilled with joy and pride at her noble -deed.</p> - -<p>“Father cannot help but forgive us now if she should -save his life, dear girl, for when once he knows her -how could he resist her grace and beauty?” he said, -over and over, to himself hopefully, for the yearning -for reunion with his kindred was strong within him.</p> - -<p>“Rosalind is at the bottom of it all. If I could but -break her influence, all might be well again; but she -is posing as injured innocence and beauty, and hardening -their hearts against me for her sake,” he thought, -with impatient resentment. Then he put it from him -to write a long letter to Berry—a real love letter, -full of praise and tenderness, which he went and slipped -under the front door of the inn that night.</p> - -<p>She very soon found it, and smiled to herself as she<span class="pagenum">[194]</span> -appropriated the sealed envelope addressed simply to -“The Lady Nurse.”</p> - -<p>Hurrying to her tidy little room, she read the loving -contents and kissed the letter over and over, hiding -it next her heart, while she returned to her duties by -the sick man, who was very ill indeed, with his eyes -quite shut so that he could not see the vision of beauty -and tenderness that bent over him. But not so wholly -unconscious that he could not feel the balm of healing -carried by the soft white hands that touched him so -gently. He knew, dimly, by her gentle ministrations -and the improved food, that the valet now had efficient -aid. And that was enough, in his feverish state, -to soothe his mind.</p> - -<p>Within twenty-four hours came the physician engaged -by Charley. Though he shook his head over the -gravity of the case, he approved all that Berenice -had done, and desired her to continue at her post.</p> - -<p>So the days came and went and the disease ran its -course quickly, while John Tousey also came down with -a light case, so that the physician recommended another -nurse, an elderly woman, who took second place -to Berry in the conduct of the invalids.</p> - -<p>Charley had taken the young physician frankly into -his confidence, telling him to safeguard his young -wife’s health very carefully, and by him he sent her<span class="pagenum">[195]</span> -daily letters of love and cheer, telling her how he -missed her, and of the pride he felt in her noble -mission.</p> - -<p>But, ah, how they missed each other, the loving -pair; how slowly the weeks of absence went, and how -happy the day when Doctor Perry said to the lonely -husband:</p> - -<p>“My patients are convalescing fast. The valet is -going to sit up to-day, and to-morrow the senator will -be allowed to sit up for an hour or two. He is quite -out of danger, and I am going to tell your wife she -may leave him to-morrow and come home. I am not -sure the patient will like it, for he is devoted to her -and impatient of the elderly woman, but he will have -to bear it.”</p> - -<p>He was right, for when the senator was told next -day that Miss Brown, as they called her, was going to -leave him, he protested vigorously; said he could not -spare her yet; he needed her to read and talk to him, -and was willing to pay any price to have her stay on -even one week longer. Why, his eyes had only got -strong now to see how lovely and charming she was, -and he needed some one pleasant to look at since he -could not have his daughters, who were both on their -bridal tours, and to whom he had not allowed any -message of his illness to be sent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[196]</span></p> - -<p>“But you have a son, sir?” interrogated Doctor -Perry.</p> - -<p>The invalid’s face gloomed over, and he answered -curtly:</p> - -<p>“I had a son, sir, but he died to me when he disgraced -his family by jilting the sweet young girl to -whom he was betrothed, and wedding a low-born, -scheming actress.”</p> - -<p>He did not hear a low, soft sigh outside the half-open -door, for Doctor Perry said, with apparent surprise:</p> - -<p>“You astonish me, sir, for we English have been led -to believe that in your favored land of America you -raise no barriers against marriage with those of inferior -birth or fortunes.”</p> - -<p>The senator answered testily:</p> - -<p>“We raise no barriers against true worth, Doctor -Perry. I myself am a self-made man, risen from poverty, -and not ashamed of it. But you have heard that -circumstances alter cases? Well, let me explain. My -son’s offense had not been so unpardonable had he been -free to choose the girl he wed, but when he took the -marriage vow he dishonored himself and his family because -he was already pledged to another, a girl whose -heart was almost broken by his falsity.”</p> - -<p>“Yet rumor says that she is already consoled by a<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> -promise of your hand, sir,” the young physician ventured.</p> - -<p>Senator Bonair’s face already reddened by his illness, -flushed deeper as he exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“You seem well posted on my affairs, sir.”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, but no offense was meant, my -dear senator. Surely you know that the affairs of so -eminent a person as yourself are public property. All -I have spoken of to you I have read in the London -newspapers, but perhaps I should not have ventured -to discuss them with you.”</p> - -<p>“You might choose pleasanter subjects,” the senator -answered quickly. “For instance, my pretty young -nurse whom we were discussing just now, and to whom -Tousey says I really owe my life, coming to me as she -did when I was in the worst stages of my illness.”</p> - -<p>“Tousey tells the truth. You could hardly have -lived a day longer without her kindly ministrations at -the time she came to you. But the time has come when, -for the sake of her own health, she must forsake you -and go home to rest.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, she is tired, broken-down—you mean that?”</p> - -<p>“Somewhat that way, for Miss Brown herself has -had a serious illness this summer, and that explains -why she was found in this rude village where she remains<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> -to strengthen her health. I hardly believe it -safe for her to remain another week in attendance -on you. But here she comes,” as a light step crossed -the threshold, “and I will let her speak for herself.”</p> - -<p>Berenice entered, graceful as a young princess in her -snowy white gown and becoming nurse’s cap, and she -gave the doctor a roguish smile that plainly said:</p> - -<p>“I’ve been eavesdropping, but, of course, you knew -that I was there.”</p> - -<p>He smiled back at her and retired, leaving her -alone with the patient, who, in his dressing gown, lay -back at ease in his reclining chair, watching with admiring -eyes every movement of his fair nurse.</p> - -<p>Berry sat down close to him and looked, shyly, into -his face, trying to appear at ease, though her poor heart -thumped wildly against her side, and the fitful color -came and went, like a flag of distress, in her cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Ah, you are getting on fast, sir!” she cried, with a -slight tremor in her musical voice. “Your eyes seem -quite strong to-day, and that blistering red skin is getting -fairer. How fortunate, too, that you will only be -pitted very slightly, and if I could but have come to -you a little sooner you need not have carried a single -scar.”</p> - -<p>“You came in time to save my life, dear child, that<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> -was enough,” replied the great man, so kindly that it -emboldened Berenice to exclaim:</p> - -<p>“Oh, how glad I was to serve you, sir! I can never -make you realize it. It is sweet to save a life so valuable -to the world and to so many friends who love -you.”</p> - -<p>He smiled at her gratefully.</p> - -<p>“Among those latter friends, please let me have the -pleasure of counting you, henceforth, Miss Brown,” -he answered. “In my gratitude to you for all you have -done for me in this terrible illness, I look upon you -almost as a daughter, and am eager to advance your interests -in any way most pleasing to you. Our good -doctor has just told me that you must leave me soon, -to my great regret. But, as he puts it, on the score of -your health, I dare not protest against my ill fortune -in losing you, just as we begin to know each other -well.”</p> - -<p>“Your words make me very, very happy,” she -sweetly said, “but do not think that I intend to desert -you altogether, for I shall remain in the village a while -longer, and I will come and see you every day, if you -will let me.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be only too glad to have you come whenever -you will, my dear young lady, and I wish you to understand<span class="pagenum">[200]</span> -that I take a deep interest in you and am -anxious to reward you beyond your mere salary for all -you have done for me. Tell me frankly, Miss Brown, -if there is any great favor, financial or otherwise, I can -do for you?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[201]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">ALLOY ALWAYS GLITTERS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Berenice was so overwhelmed with joyous excitement -that the tears rushed in a torrent to her eyes, and -she half sobbed:</p> - -<p>“Ah, you could do much for me if you would—but—I -fear to ask.”</p> - -<p>“Only try me, dear girl; only name your wishes and -see. If you need money, and very likely you do in your -position, I am very rich and surely the saving of my life -is worth a little fortune to me. Come, dry your tears -and let me make you happy. I shall write you a check -for five thousand dollars. That is little enough for -all I owe you, too little! Will that please you?”</p> - -<p>She flung out her white hands convulsively, sobbing:</p> - -<p>“No, no, no—not a penny! I am not rich, but a fortune -is not what I crave. There is something dearer, -dearer!”</p> - -<p>“What else, child, speak? What other favor can I -do for you?” the senator asked, in growing wonder.</p> - -<p>He was more amazed than ever when the white-gowned -figure knelt, humbly, at his feet, with little, -upraised, beseeching hands.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[202]</span></p> - -<p>Berenice pleaded, wildly, through raining tears:</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir, there is one who loves you dearly, one -whom you used to love, but your heart is turned against -him and he is in bitter sorrow for your anger. It was I -who unwittingly came between you, and if I have done -aught to merit your favor, the reward I ask is not -for myself but him—only this, forgive him, take him -back to your heart!”</p> - -<p>There was an awful silence.</p> - -<p>Senator Bonair sat still, growing deadly pale through -his florid color, like a statue stiffening into stone, his -eyes fixed, sternly, on the beautiful, kneeling suppliant.</p> - -<p>“Who are you, then, if not Miss Brown?” he asked, -in a hard, cold voice.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t you know already, sir? Have you not -guessed?” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“Are you my—I mean Charley Bonair’s wife?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, yes—I am his wife, the little actress you -hate because she rivaled proud, rich Rosalind,” she confessed. -“Must I go now, must I go?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet. Wait and tell me if this was a plot to -creep back into favor for the sake of my fortune? Did -Charley send you here to nurse me so devotedly that I -could deny you nothing?” The tone was harsh and -grating.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[203]</span></p> - -<p>Berenice, still kneeling, put up her small hands as if -to ward off a blow.</p> - -<p>“Ah, cruel, cruel!” she moaned. Then bitterly: -“How could you think your son so low? Did he show -a mercenary spirit when he married poor little Berry -Vining? Oh, may I tell you all about it? Will you -listen fairly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will listen, but stop crying first and get up -and sit in this chair close by, while you tell me how -it happened.”</p> - -<p>Berenice, looking adorably pretty and pitiful, obeyed -him, and after drying her wet eyes again, said patiently:</p> - -<p>“It was this way, sir: Just as I tell you, Charley -loved all of you dearly and grieved over the separation, -not for your money’s worth, but for true love’s -sake. So that day when he read you were in England, -he said he would go and find you and beg your forgiveness. -But I—I—was timid and afraid of you, so I -stayed here. I refused to go. When he was gone I -was lonely, and the maid told me of the desperate -case of the sick man up here, with no doctor or nurse, -so I thought it must be you and I came to you, asking -no one’s leave because I knew when Charley should -come back he would feel I had only done my duty coming -here to succor his dear father. And I was right,<span class="pagenum">[204]</span> -for so he said in his letters afterward. Oh, sir, we -are not after your money, we only want your pardon—for -him, if not for me, poor Charley! Because he -loves you so! As for me, I have done very little, really, -for there was no risk nursing you since I had already -had the disease years ago. I—I—might never have -told you who I was, or claimed any favor, only that -you bade me to, and then my heart leaped at the -thought of my husband. Oh, cannot you understand?” -She broke down and hid her lovely face in her dimpled -hands.</p> - -<p>Her dazed father-in-law sat watching her, noting her -wonderful grace and charm, recalling what his son had -said to him the day of their bitter quarrel.</p> - -<p>In his weakness and loneliness, the old love, smothered -under anger, seemed to surge upward again and -flood his whole being with tenderness for his son. -But he called pride to his aid, lest she should see too -quickly, this lovely suppliant, how the ice was melting -around his heart.</p> - -<p>“Tell me,” he said, and his voice sounded stern and -harsh in her ears, “tell me all about yourself and Charley—how -you first met, how love grew between you -until he forgot his troth to Rosalind. Begin at the -beginning; leave nothing unsaid.”</p> - -<p>Berenice obeyed, nothing loath, for it pleased her to<span class="pagenum">[205]</span> -recall everything connected with Charley, and she left -nothing untold from the hour of their first meeting -until now.</p> - -<p>Senator Bonair, resting easily, with half-closed eyes, -did not miss a word of her story, nor an expression -of her radiant face that glowed with happy blushes -as she told her tale of love.</p> - -<p>He sighed heavily, and turning to her as she ended -her story, remarked:</p> - -<p>“It would make a pretty novel, this love story of -yours and Charley’s, and I should not have found much -fault with it if Rosalind had been left out of it, but -her wrongs made me indignant, caused all my bitterest -anger against you both.”</p> - -<p>“It was sad,” replied Berenice, “that she should suffer -for our happiness—very hard. But it was better -for Charley to tell her the truth frankly, as he did, -and ask for his release.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I agree with you on the latter point, but Rosalind -denies that Charley ever asked for a release. She -claims that she was betrothed to him all the while, and -her mortification was so extreme that to palliate my -son’s offense I——” he paused and bit his lips, but -Berenice finished the sentence for him:</p> - -<p>“You threw yourself into the breach, with your high -sense of honor, and offered to heal the wound by<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> -marrying her yourself, thus still making her prospective -heiress of the Bonair millions, the high stakes for -which she was playing.”</p> - -<p>He quickly took up the cudgel in Rosalind’s defense.</p> - -<p>“Hush! she is not mercenary. I am sure she loved -my son dearly, and can never give me but a tame affection. -If I believed Rosalind unworthy of my respect -and love, I could sooner forgive my son’s perfidy. For -I must own you are a very charming little lady!” exclaimed -the senator frankly.</p> - -<p>She smiled up at him gratefully.</p> - -<p>“Not little lady—little daughter,” she pleaded.</p> - -<p>“Little daughter, then,” he amended smilingly, and -felt his heart thrill warmly at the word.</p> - -<p>“I thank you a hundred times!” she cried, blushing -with joy, and adding: “Now I know you will forgive -Charley and call him son.”</p> - -<p>He answered gravely:</p> - -<p>“Do you think if I will forgive him and receive him -again he will be content with that? For you know I -have disinherited him out of justice to Rosalind, whom -I am to marry.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir, if you marry Rosalind, Charley will not -strive for the miserable money. We have been happy -without it for more than a year. But—but—I prophesy -that you will never marry Rosalind, because you<span class="pagenum">[207]</span> -will learn, before it is too late, that she is unworthy of -you!”</p> - -<p>He frowned, and said:</p> - -<p>“Nay, you have already wronged Rosalind enough; -let her name rest. She will surely be my bride.”</p> - -<p>Berenice sighed and held out her hand, replying:</p> - -<p>“If I believed that, I should be very sorry for you, -sir. But I must be going now. My poor boy is -wearying for me this long time. Tell me, do you forgive -him? May he come to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“He may come to-day. I am too impatient to wait,” -the senator cried, with a sudden outburst of tenderness.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[208]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">AN OLD FOOL.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>September slipped into October and Miss Montague -returned home again from Bar Harbor, where she -spent the summer.</p> - -<p>Up at the hall it was very gay, for she was entertaining -a house party of her friends, to all of whom -it was well known that her trousseau was being made -ready, and that before Christmas she was to be married -to the multimillionaire, Senator Bonair.</p> - -<p>But latterly Rosalind, although outwardly gay, was -inwardly disturbed and uneasy, for in nearly two -months she had no letter from her elderly betrothed, -and became alarmed lest he should slip through her -fingers.</p> - -<p>In the absence of her betrothed she had consoled -herself by flirting, in which she was an adept, and -managed, on the whole, to pass away time very pleasantly.</p> - -<p>There was one man who had danced attendance on -her all summer, a handsome, dark-eyed, jealous fellow, -that she preferred to any other, and she said to -herself that she would keep him dangling on, till the<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> -senator came home, then, she would have to dismiss -him for good. He was desperately in earnest, she -knew, and she sometimes shuddered, wondering what -he would do when he was given his congé. She would -not be surprised in the least if he committed suicide; -but if he chose to be such a fool, how could she help it?</p> - -<p>Now that October was nearing its end, a vague uneasiness -began to possess her, for it was quite two -months since Senator Bonair had written, and she wondered -at his strange silence, and that he did not return -home.</p> - -<p>Of the two daughters who had gone abroad on a -bridal tour around the world, she also heard nothing. -The silence was puzzling, annoying. Not even the -ubiquitous newspapers seemed to know anything of the -great man’s whereabouts.</p> - -<p>“It looks bad, and I do not know what to make of -it,” she said to her mother uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Have you written him?”</p> - -<p>“Several times, and as the letters are not returned -he must have received them, so his silence is hard to -understand.”</p> - -<p>“It is very hard, indeed, for an old lover is mostly -a greater fool than a young one,” said the worldly-wise -mother. “Now, the senator acts so indifferently -that he is quite puzzling. I expected he would write<span class="pagenum">[210]</span> -to you by every mail, and fairly load you with costly -gifts, but he seems to almost forget your existence, -and as for gifts, you have received nothing but your -diamond engagement ring, and that handsome pearl -necklace. If I were you, Rosalind, I would call him -to time!”</p> - -<p>“What could you do, mamma, since he does not answer -my letters, and I cannot follow him up, not -knowing whither he has gone?” Rosalind cried impatiently.</p> - -<p>“I would write him again—a real love letter, pleading -and reproachful by turns, insisting on an answer. -Make him show his hand, whatever he has got up his -sleeve,” exclaimed Mrs. Montague, rather coarsely.</p> - -<p>“Faugh! the idea of writing a love letter to that -gray-haired man, sixty years old!” pouted Rosalind -disdainfully.</p> - -<p>“You will have to pass a long life with him, remember, -and he will expect love-making from you, too, -which is worse than writing a love letter,” reminded -Mrs. Montague.</p> - -<p>“A long life with that old dotard! No, no, don’t -you fancy such a silly thing as that, mamma! When -I get him I shall lead him such a dance I shall soon -worry him into his grave.” Rosalind laughed heartlessly, -much to the displeasure of her mother, who,<span class="pagenum">[211]</span> -though worldly-wise and scheming, was not so cruel by -nature. She proceeded to read Rosalind a lecture on -the duty to the man she should marry, all of which -was heard with a rosy face, and interrupted before -its end by the exclamation:</p> - -<p>“Oh, bother! don’t lecture me! I shall do as I please -with my doting old spouse!”</p> - -<p>“There’s another thing, my dear, and that is, I think -you go too far flirting with this Adrian Vance. We -really do not know much about him, who he is, or why -he seems so devoted to you. They say he comes of very -humble origin, and certainly he is poor enough! You -are making him desperate with love of you. You -should send him away.”</p> - -<p>“I shall do no such thing. I intend to keep him -dangling on, to flirt with after I have married old Sir -Moneybags!” Rosalind laughed, with an insolence that -brooked no further interference.</p> - -<p>But she was not quite a fool, this scheming beauty, -so she heeded her mother’s advice enough to write such -a letter as she advised, and she waited impatiently -enough for an answer, for although she did not love -the old man, she dearly loved the moneybags she talked -of so glibly, and also her revenge on Charley Bonair.</p> - -<p>To her surprise and relief, the fond love letter -brought a prompt reply.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[212]</span></p> - -<p>Senator Bonair had been too ill to write to any one, -and not wishing to alarm his daughters or his betrothed, -had not suffered any one else to write to them -of his illness.</p> - -<p>Therefore, although he had had her letters forwarded -from London down to the village, he had not -troubled himself to reply; and now that he was better -he had a weakness of the eyes so that the doctor forbade -him to use the pen.</p> - -<p>In this dilemma, he had recourse, of all people in the -world, to his son, to act as his amanuensis.</p> - -<p>The father and son were on excellent terms now, and -the young couple had taken up their quarters at the inn -at his urgent request, to help while away the dull hours -until he was well enough to go.</p> - -<p>“Here, Berry, you write the letter for father to his -sweetheart!” cried Charley coaxingly.</p> - -<p>But Berry, always so gentle, suddenly turned stubborn -and flatly declined:</p> - -<p>“I will have nothing to do now, or ever, with Miss -Montague!” she said, shaking her dark, curly head.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[213]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE UNWELCOME LETTER.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Charley took up the pen to write to his future stepmother, -and looked at his father.</p> - -<p>“Shall you dictate, sir, or will you tell me your desires -and leave the rest to me?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I will tell you what to say, and you may put it -in your own words,” Senator Bonair replied.</p> - -<p>So it happened in due time that there came across -the sea to anxious Rosalind this answer to her charming -love letter:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Rosalind</span>: You’ll be surprised to get this -letter from me in answer to your loving one to father, -but as you have consoled yourself for my fault, I -hope you bear no ill will, and that you are willing to -let bygones be bygones. To tell you the honest truth, -Rosalind, I’m so happy with my darling little wife, I -feel at peace and amity with the whole world, and as -dad wants me to write you this letter, I embrace the -chance to tell you so. I don’t mind your marrying -dad, if you love him. If not, please don’t, for his happiness -is very dear to me.</p> - -<p>“You wondered why dad failed to write to you, -and he wants me to explain. Well, this is why: Along -late in August he came down here to the little village<span class="pagenum">[214]</span> -by the sea, alone, with his valet, and first thing he -knew he came down with a horrid case of smallpox, -and everybody deserted him but Tousey, who didn’t -know a single thing about nursing or cooking, either, -so dad was likely to die. By the best luck in the world -my wife happened to be in the neighborhood (I was in -London myself), and she went to his aid, like a brick -(excuse slang). You see, she had had smallpox and -knew how to nurse it. She also knew how to get a -decent meal, so between her two accomplishments she -dragged dad out of the jaws of death. Then she -wrote me to send a London doctor, which I did, and -although the sick man went down to the gates of death -they dragged him back, and now he is convalescent, -but not allowed to read or write yet, so he is using -my pen and eyes to allay your anxiety.</p> - -<p>“Of course, it follows, dad has forgiven Berry and -me, and just dotes now on my charming wife.</p> - -<p>“But dad wishes me to say that our reconciliation -makes no difference in his duty and his feelings to you, -and that he has not reconsidered his disinheritance of -his disobedient son. Your marriage dower will be -quite as large as he had promised before, and the future -must take care of itself. I have won my suit for my -mother’s money, and if I never get a penny of dad’s -my little love and I can be perfectly happy without it.</p> - -<p>“Dad will be home weeks before the wedding, so -don’t worry, he says, as he loves you as well as ever. -My sisters will be home before the wedding, too, he -says, but I don’t expect an invitation, and would not<span class="pagenum">[215]</span> -come if you sent one! I suppose you and Berry won’t -care to meet for a good while yet, and I won’t force -a crisis. We will likely make our home over here, -anyway, as Berry isn’t used to society, and I’m not -rich enough to keep in the swim, either. So when -dad goes, I’m going to buy a fine automobile, and -we two, my love and I, are going touring in it. We -shall be as happy as two birds in a nest.</p> - -<p>“The next letter will be from dad himself, telling -you when to expect him home. Good luck to you, -Rosalind, and good-by.</p> - -<p class="ir2 pminus1">“<span class="smcap">Charley Bonair.</span>”</p> -</div> - -<p>This was the startling letter that threw Rosalind -into a fit of angry hysterics.</p> - -<p>“The game is lost to me, I feel it, I know it! Oh, -why did I let him go away from me over there, where -those two scheming wretches were sure to nab him? -Why didn’t I insist on an immediate marriage, so as -to go with him? I was a fool letting him out of my -sight as I did!”</p> - -<p>“Rosalind, your fears are groundless. Nothing but -some glaring fault in yourself would prevent the marriage, -and I tremble over this flirtation with Adrian -Vance if it even gets to his knowledge. You go too -far, indeed, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Quit preaching, for Heaven’s sake; you drive me -mad!” Rosalind cried angrily. “I shall flirt all I like, -and with whom I like, for when I am tied down in<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> -wedlock with old Moneybags I shall have to be so -proper I shall die of dreariness!”</p> - -<p>When she had got over her hysterical fit, she dressed -herself with care and went down to her guests, where -Adrian Vance always flew to attend to her lightest -wish. When they got away by themselves, presently, -in a shaded alcove behind the curtain, she said carelessly:</p> - -<p>“I have just had a letter from the senator, and the -poor old man has had smallpox in a dreadful form. -I am wondering if he will be so pitted as to make him -more homely than he was before?”</p> - -<p>“I hope he may be rendered so hideous that you will -break the engagement on sight,” he responded passionately.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Adrian, I wish he had your good looks along -with his millions. Then I should be happy, indeed.”</p> - -<p>He seized her white, jeweled hand in a crushing -pressure.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Rosalind, why are you so cruel when I love -you so well and you pretend that you return it? Let -that old man go, and give yourself to me.”</p> - -<p>“I promise you now,” she whispered softly, leaning -close to him, “that when old Moneybags dies and -leaves me his millions, I’ll take you, my dark-eyed<span class="pagenum">[217]</span> -Adrian, for my second husband, and let you help to -spend the money.”</p> - -<p>“You tempt me to murder him by the time the marriage -ceremony is over! Have a care, Rosalind, for -what you put in my head!” the man whispered back -hoarsely.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">BITTER MEMORIES.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was two weeks later that the bride-elect got the -promised letter from Senator Bonair, saying that he -would follow the letter home, and hoped to greet her -by the first of December.</p> - -<p>Further on in the letter, the senator mentioned he -hoped she was not sorry he had made up his quarrel -with Charley and his charming wife. He was getting -on in years, now, and it was such a comfort to -have a son for a staff to his declining years. Not that -he expected to see much of them, though, because the -happy pair intended to make their home abroad. Then, -too, Marie and Lucile had declined to meet or forgive -their brother and Berry, so it was best they should -dwell apart.</p> - -<p>It rejoiced Rosalind’s heart to hear that her friends, -Marie and Lucile, had stood loyally by her and refused -to be reconciled to Charley and his humble bride.</p> - -<p>“It is well that they oppose their father in this, else -the foolish old man would be wanting them to come -and live with us, and I am determined they shall never -cross the threshold of my home when I am married,”<span class="pagenum">[219]</span> -she vowed to her mother, who approved the declaration, -saying that no one could ever expect Rosalind -to forgive the injury received at Charley Bonair’s -hands.</p> - -<p>“Speaking of Charley’s wife reminds me, Rosalind, -that we must try to get that old woman, Mrs. Vining, -to come up and help at the hall for a week, finishing -up the sewing, as the seamstress says she must have -more help or she can never get through in time,” continued -her mother.</p> - -<p>“Very well, I will stop at the cottage as I drive -down and see about it, mamma. I suppose she will -be glad to get the work, as I don’t think Berry’s grand -match has improved her mother’s fortunes. Indeed, I -wonder if she even knows that Charley married her -hateful actress daughter?” cried Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I think she has written home of her grand -match, for all the village seems to know of it. I have -heard our servants talking of it when they did not -know that I overheard their silly gossip. But, as you -say, it can do her no good. She has not apparently -benefited by it, as she still lives in the old weather-beaten -cottage.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will employ her,” declared Rosalind, “if -only to have the triumph of seeing Charley Bonair’s -poor old mother-in-law toiling for me. Ha, ha! what<span class="pagenum">[220]</span> -a spectacle!” She ended with a harsh, grating laugh of -smothered rage.</p> - -<p>When she drove out with Adrian Vance that afternoon, -she got him to wait at the cottage door, in the -automobile, while she went to see Mrs. Vining.</p> - -<p>The woman’s youngest son, a boy of sixteen, met -her at the cottage door, and led her into the small, -neat sitting room, saying he would call his mother.</p> - -<p>He disappeared, and Rosalind looked, superciliously, -about the small apartment with its dingy furnishings, -muttering:</p> - -<p>“I would rather die than be poor and shabby. I declare -I don’t see how very poor folks endure such an -existence. Ah, what——” the sentence ended abruptly, -and getting up with a swish of trailing silk and flutter -of rich laces, she swept across the room to a new easel -standing in a corner with a good-sized picture upon -it, representing a group of two—a picturesque group -of two lovers, a handsome man, a lovely white-gowned -girl, standing, hand in hand, amid tropical shrubbery.</p> - -<p>Rosalind gazed with idle curiosity a moment, then -her eyes flashed, and a keen, bitter pain stabbed her -jealous heart like the point of a dagger.</p> - -<p>The picture was a large, framed photograph of -Charley Bonair and Berry that they had sent to Mrs. -Vining months before.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[221]</span></p> - -<p>The beauty and the happiness of the handsome pair -struck Rosalind’s heart with bitterness, but while she -gazed the mother’s voice said, just behind her:</p> - -<p>“Ah, Miss Montague, you’re admiring the picture -of my little girl and her husband. It’s the image of -Berry, bless her dear heart, don’t you think so, miss? -She sent it to me a while ago, and oh, how glad I am -the dear girl is happily married! But I beg pardon, -can I do anything for you, Miss Montague?”</p> - -<p>“I am to be married soon, you know, Mrs. Vining, -to Senator Bonair, and some of my simpler things -are being done at home by seamstresses. Mamma -sent me to ask if you will come and help finish up, -next week? She will pay you more than you can earn -at the tailor shop.”</p> - -<p>“But I am not at the tailor shop now, Miss Montague.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed? Have they discharged you, then?” insolently.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, miss; I left of my own accord. I’m getting -to be an old woman now, and must rest for the balance -of my life.”</p> - -<p>Rosalind looked more closely, and noted a more -prosperous air about Berry’s mother than she had ever -seen before.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[222]</span></p> - -<p>“I do not understand how you expect to live without -work,” she said sharply.</p> - -<p>“It does seem strange to you, doesn’t it now, Miss -Montague, seeing how I have been working and toiling -here all my life? My son-in-law, out of his good -heart, has sent me a present of a thousand dollars to -take my ease on, and says there’s more to come when I -have spent it all.”</p> - -<p>“So then you will not come to sew?” Rosalind exclaimed -sneeringly.</p> - -<p>“No, Miss Montague. I’d rather not, thank you all -the same for giving me the chance if I needed it, but -Berry wrote I mustn’t work any more.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go, then,” Rosalind cried, with an angry flirt -of her skirts that tumbled the picture off the easel and -splintered the glass over it; while with a smothered, -malicious laugh at what she had done through pure -spitefulness, she swept from the house, leaving the old -woman busy gathering up the fragments.</p> - -<p>“I’m cross; I don’t care to drive to-day. We will -go back home,” she said to Adrian Vance sharply.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Montague spied her coming, and came to meet -her, saying:</p> - -<p>“You got back sooner than I looked for, Rosalind, -but none too soon, for a cablegram has just come to<span class="pagenum">[223]</span> -you, saying Senator Bonair cannot sail as soon as he -expected, but hopes not to be delayed much longer.”</p> - -<p>“He cannot come? Why? Is this another scheme -to postpone the wedding?” Rosalind cried, in a loud, -angry voice.</p> - -<p>“Hush, Rosalind, don’t fly off into a rage so fast, and -I’ll tell you the rest. The senator explains his disappointment -by saying that Charley and his wife had a -wreck while coming on their automobile from Trouville -to Paris, and that both are so terribly injured they may -not survive the day.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[224]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">DELAYS ARE DANGEROUS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was true, that dreadful cablegram that shocked -even Rosalind’s cruel heart! For a moment she gasped -with surprise and grew pale even to her rosy lips.</p> - -<p>But the next moment she threw off the spell and -laughed gratingly, so that even the worldly-wise mother -said rebukingly:</p> - -<p>“How can you laugh, my dear girl? It is really -very shocking to think of that young pair being so -terribly injured in an automobile accident that they -must almost certainly die.”</p> - -<p>But Rosalind only laughed again.</p> - -<p>“Mamma, what is the use of your acting goody-goody -when you know what all this means to me?” she -sneered. “In the first place, I hate Charley Bonair -who jilted me, and his wife who supplanted me, with -a bitter hatred that can only rejoice in their deaths, -so why should I pull a long face, when nothing could -please me better? And, secondly, if they had lived, -old Moneybags might have revoked his disinheritance -of his son, and cut me out of some of his millions at -his death. So what seems like a calamity to them is a<span class="pagenum">[225]</span> -benefit to me, and I rejoice accordingly. Mother,” -she added, as with a sudden thought, “I shall cross the -ocean to my betrothed’s side! I shall have to do the -sympathy act, of course—snivel and whine, and pretend -to be sorry they are dead, while my heart is full -of rejoicing! But no matter, so that I gain my end!”</p> - -<p>“But, Rosalind, my dear, what can be gained by -such proceedings?”</p> - -<p>“How stupid you are, to be sure, mamma! You -must be getting into your dotage not to see that if he -goes into mourning for his son, and objects to a public -marriage with all its attendant sensation, I can easily -lure him into a quiet, private marriage on the spot, and -come home Mrs. Senator Bonair, don’t you see?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, that is a very clever idea, Rosalind—a -good idea all around, for then we shall be spared the -trouble and expense of a grand wedding, for which it -would have been hard to raise the money, and your -father’s affairs in such a fix! But for that matter it -won’t be easy to get it for your trip, either. Besides, -you know, I cannot leave your father’s sick bed to -chaperon you, and you could not properly go alone.”</p> - -<p>“All that can be easily arranged. Our late visitor, -Mrs. Brander, sails in two days for Europe to join her -married son in Paris, and she will be only too glad<span class="pagenum">[226]</span> -to have my company on the trip. For the rest, I can -sell some of my jewels for the passage money. I shall -have plenty more as soon as I am married.”</p> - -<p>“It is all very easy as you have planned it, and I -don’t doubt you will succeed with such an indomitable -will as you are now displaying,” commended Mrs. -Montague.</p> - -<p>“We must begin to get you ready to start in the -morning to join Mrs. Brander,” she went on. “I suppose -you had better break the news to our remaining -guests, at once, that Senator Bonair has cabled for you -to come to Paris. I hope they will all take their departures -quickly, as under the circumstances they ought -to do.”</p> - -<p>The guests were all of the same mind with her, and -after hearing the sad news and offering formal condolences -suited to the occasion, did some hasty packing -and were all out of the house by nightfall, the last -one to leave being Adrian Vance, who said, as he -pressed her hand at parting:</p> - -<p>“I shall lodge in the town to-night and bear you -company to New York on the morning train. Indeed -I am not sure but I shall follow you to Paris on the -same steamer.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed, you must not! I shall not permit it,”<span class="pagenum">[227]</span> -she replied, with a glance that belied her word, and -silently invited him to disobey her mandate.</p> - -<p>As a result he kept his word, and as soon as the -steamer left her moorings he joined Rosalind and -her chaperon as their traveling companion.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[228]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">TRUE TO HIS WORD.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was true that Lucile and Marie, who, with their -husbands, were now in Paris, had hardened their -hearts absolutely against their brother and his lowly -born bride.</p> - -<p>They had joined their father at his hotel, but after -they had heard the whole story of Berenice’s care and -devotion that had saved his life, they were rebellious; -they could not forgive.</p> - -<p>The sisters remembered how beautiful and charming -Berenice had been that one night upon the stage at -Bonair, but the thought of that beauty only hardened -their hearts, since it was this that had made their -brother a traitor to Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“Papa, we cannot look at it as you do; the cases -are different,” they said to their father. “And if you -want our advice it would be to give them a large sum -of money rather than try to secure social recognition -for them that would result in many unpleasant complications.”</p> - -<p>“I did not think you could be so cruel to your only -brother who loved you so well,” their father said rebukingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[229]</span></p> - -<p>“He put that low-born actress before us and Rosalind -in his heart,” was the answer.</p> - -<p>“Rosalind, always Rosalind! I am sick of the very -name! Do you owe no duty to others?” he cried -angrily, and they started with surprise.</p> - -<p>“Rosalind is to be your wife and our stepmother—we -should consider her first,” they replied stubbornly.</p> - -<p>“By Heaven, I wish I had never promised to marry -the girl! I wish I could get honorably free of her -claim, for my son is dearer to me than Rosalind can -ever be, and I detest the thought that she is to stand -forever between Charley’s heart and mine!” the senator -stormed, in sudden desperation, outraged by their -heartlessness.</p> - -<p>Marie and Lucile listened in the greatest wonder, -and they cried out simultaneously:</p> - -<p>“We thought you loved Rosalind better than any -of us!”</p> - -<p>In his anger he replied truthfully:</p> - -<p>“I have never pretended to love her, and I regret -now I ever made the rash promise to marry her, for -very likely she only desires it to get revenge on Charley -and Berenice for their fault against her, which was -not so dreadful, after all, for my son swears he confessed -all to Rosalind first and asked release from his -engagement to her, although afterward she denied it<span class="pagenum">[230]</span> -to us, and we rashly took her word against Charley’s. -When I look back I remember that Rosalind really -courted me first instead of my courting her, and -through an old man’s flattered vanity and the wish to -atone for Charley’s fault, I promised to make her my -bride. But now I swear I am sorry for it, and wish -I could retreat in honor, for I shrink from putting another -in the place of your dead mother, my beloved -wife; and, besides, I do not believe in the union of -May and December.”</p> - -<p>“But, papa, you cannot retreat from your bond. It -would be unfair to Rosalind; it would be worse than -Charley, for the wedding day is barely a month off,” -they reminded him.</p> - -<p>“No, I cannot retreat in honor. I must marry Rosalind -and make the most of my life,” he replied bitterly, -adding:</p> - -<p>“Fortunately my private business and affairs of -state engross most of my time, and as for her, I suppose -she will be happy enough spending my money -and flirting with younger men.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa!” cried Lucile reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“For shame, papa!” cried Marie indignantly.</p> - -<p>But in their hearts they both knew he spoke truly.</p> - -<p>Rosalind was extravagant to a fault, and a bold -coquette—they could not deny either charge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[231]</span></p> - -<p>But Rosalind had been their schoolmate and chum; -she was in their set, she was handsome in her way, -and they would not be ashamed of her, as they must -be of poor little Berenice, the lowly born bride of -their only brother.</p> - -<p>So they held out for Rosalind, declaring it was only -loyal to do so, and beseeching their father not to jilt -her as Charley had done.</p> - -<p>He, on his part, promised faithfulness, and the -interview ended, much to the relief of all parties, having -been productive of no good on either side.</p> - -<p>The young wives, having told everything to their -proud and exceptionable husbands, were consoled and -sympathized with, and told that they had acted right.</p> - -<p>So Senator Bonair, who had almost promised Charley -that they should have a family reunion and reconciliation -at Paris, was obliged to write to his son that -his sisters were obdurate and unforgiving and that -when he came to bid him farewell, he could not meet -the kindred he loved so well; because, in their loyalty -to Rosalind, they would not forgive his folly nor recognize -his bride.</p> - -<p>It was cruelly hard on Charley, who had hoped so -much from his father’s intercession, and when he -showed the letter to Berenice, he said bitterly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[232]</span></p> - -<p>“They were sweet, loving girls before they came -under Rosalind’s baleful influence, and I wish they -could know her as well as I do, and realize her catlike, -revengeful nature, then they would not harden their -hearts against us any longer. It is by her cruel machinations -I am sure that Marie and Lucile have become -so heartless.”</p> - -<p>“But, Charley, even if we could turn their hearts -against her, by telling any harm we knew, it would -not be right, because we have already injured her in -her tenderest affections,” his lovely bride said gently.</p> - -<p>“Affections!” laughed Charley scornfully. “All her -love is for money and position, and in wedding my -father she will gain more than she lost in me.”</p> - -<p>He was wrong, but he had never realized in his -indifference to Rosalind that the girl had doted on him -with her whole heart, or that slighted love had driven -her to madness. It is true she would not have looked -at him twice had he been penniless, but having looked, -she had truly loved.</p> - -<p>Charley read on from his letter that his father was -sailing soon for America, and he hoped they would -not forget the promised visit to bid him farewell.</p> - -<p>“We will go to-morrow,” the young man said -eagerly. “I will tell my chauffeur to have everything<span class="pagenum">[233]</span> -ready for a fine automobile trip, so that we may go -as fast as the wind, for there is nothing I enjoy so -much.”</p> - -<p>When the order had been given he returned to clasp -her to his heart, and say, with passionate devotion:</p> - -<p>“Do not think I am fretting because my sisters will -have nothing to say to us. Although I love them well, -I love you, my dearest, more than all the world besides. -I can be happy without them, and perhaps it is -best we should remain sundered from the family since -Rosalind is to make one of it, and she would always -be plotting against us. Henceforth we will live only -for each other.”</p> - -<p>Next day came the terrible accident, when the automobile, -flying from Trouville to Paris, at a high rate -of speed, came into collision with a huge rock that -sent it flying upward as it exploded, its passengers -being scattered upon the flinty ground, the chauffeur -meeting instant death, and Charley and Berry such terrible -injuries that it was pronounced impossible for -either to survive the shock.</p> - -<p>The next day the news was in all the newspapers -of England, France, and America, and in the roadside -cottage to which the victims had been tenderly -carried after the terrible accident, a broken-hearted<span class="pagenum">[234]</span> -father and two remorseful sisters bent over the unconscious -forms in agonies of grief, the father crying: -“Thank Heaven I forgave them!” The sisters, weeping -bitterly: “Heaven forgive our cruelty that we did -not!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[235]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A LATE REMORSE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>When the dreadful news was carried quickly to -Paris, Lucile and Marie forgot all their pride and resentment -and remembered only the love and pride they -had once had in Charley, their beloved brother.</p> - -<p>They set out quickly for the scene of the accident, -accompanied by their father and husbands, and they -took with them two of the most skillful physicians in -the city, hoping they might render some service to the -sufferers. When they reached the cottage they found -the sufferers hovering between life and death.</p> - -<p>The poor chauffeur had met death instantly, and as -no one knew if he had any friends at all, preparations -were already made to give him a respectable -burial in hallowed ground.</p> - -<p>When examinations had been duly made it was -found that Charley was more seriously injured than -his wife. He had an arm and some ribs broken, in addition -to many bruises, while Berenice had no bones -broken at all, and if she had no internal injuries she -ought to recover, the physicians said.</p> - -<p>She presently proved the correctness of their diagnosis<span class="pagenum">[236]</span> -by rallying under treatment and opening her eyes -in a vacant stare that as yet had no light of reason in -it; but as for Charley, he was too badly off to show -any signs of life for twenty-four hours, save the faint -throbbing of his heart. They feared concussion of -the brain.</p> - -<p>Marie and Lucile, overwhelmed with remorse, outdid -themselves in devotion.</p> - -<p>As for Senator Bonair, if ever a thought of his betrothed -crossed his mind it was with poignant regret -that he had given her a promise he could not, in -honor, break.</p> - -<p>When the patients began to show signs of improvement -it only aggravated his chagrin against Rosalind; -but for the wedding he could have taken these two -dear ones with him to Washington, where Berenice -would have made a lovely mistress for the grand new -home he had built.</p> - -<p>It was strange how quickly the young wife rallied -and improved. She had suffered from severe mental -shock more than physical injury, and in a week she -was able to sit and watch by Charley’s bed and smooth -his hot brow with her soft, trembling little hands, vying -with the sisters and the nurse who performed the -more onerous duties.</p> - -<p>A frail white lily, so pure, so fragile, she looked to<span class="pagenum">[237]</span> -the sisters who had hated her so, but who now pitied -and loved her for her own sweet sake as well as her -unfailing devotion to their brother.</p> - -<p>So the days came and went until over two weeks -had passed; then the grieving family had a great -surprise.</p> - -<p>There stopped one day before the cottage a carriage, -and out of it stepped Rosalind, in her handsomest -traveling gown, with an anxious look on her beautiful -face.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my dear senator!” she cried, holding up her -face for a kiss, as he stepped out to meet her. “How -glad I am to see you again! As soon as I got your -cablegram I started to come to you, feeling that in -your trouble my place was by your side to comfort -you, for I feared that Marie and Lucile could not -come as soon as I.”</p> - -<p>She had scarcely uttered the words when the sisters -came out to greet her with kisses and loving welcomes.</p> - -<p>“But I thought you were absent on your wedding -tours?” cried Rosalind, secretly chagrined at their return.</p> - -<p>They led her into the small sitting room, and she -added, with eager curiosity:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[238]</span></p> - -<p>“I was told in Paris that your brother is living yet, -but cannot recover. Is it true?”</p> - -<p>“He is living yet—and we hope he may recover,” -Marie said tearfully, without noticing Rosalind’s frown -at the news.</p> - -<p>Stifling an angry sob, Rosalind continued spitefully:</p> - -<p>“And that horrid girl—the daughter of our village -tailoress—she also lives, I suppose? You cannot kill -such people! They are very tough.”</p> - -<p>She was startled when Lucile said, with a certain -proud dignity:</p> - -<p>“Please do not talk like that any more, Rosalind, -for she is my sister now.”</p> - -<p>“And my daughter,” Senator Bonair said tenderly.</p> - -<p>“And a sweet, lovely creature!” Marie added -frankly.</p> - -<p>“Well, upon my word!” cried Rosalind, in frank -anger and amazement. She realized that Berenice was -forgiven; worse still—beloved.</p> - -<p>An insane anger took possession of her, and she -longed to strike every one in the face. It seemed to -her, in her fury, that she could kill them.</p> - -<p>Her anger gave way to hysterical sobbing, and then -the sisters fell to soothing her tenderly and explaining -how it all came about.</p> - -<p>The senator had retreated, frowningly, at the first<span class="pagenum">[239]</span> -signs of hysterics, so the three were all alone, and the -sisters felt it was the time to give good advice.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Rosalind, you will have to give in and be very -friendly, or papa will be displeased with you,” they -said. “And, after all, it will be better to have peace -in the family, don’t you think so? For even if poor -Charley lives, he and his wife will never intrude on -you, unless you invite them, you know. But now, in -the face of death, papa will not love you as well if -you do not forgive.”</p> - -<p>It was a bitter pill for Rosalind, but she knew they -were still her friends, and she did not care to antagonize -them until she gained her point.</p> - -<p>She sobbed dismally a moment or two, then lifted a -piteous face, and murmured:</p> - -<p>“Then I must try to forgive my enemies, for your -father is the only friend I have in the world now, and -if he turns against me I am all undone.”</p> - -<p>“Why, how strangely you are talking, Rosalind—you -who have a father and mother, and hosts of -friends!” they cried, in amazement.</p> - -<p>“Alas! you cannot guess at all my troubles. Listen -and you will own that my words are true. My father, -in his extreme old age, has met with financial disaster -that has wrecked his mind. He is confined to his room, -my mother his constant, watchful attendant. But<span class="pagenum">[240]</span> -worst of all, I have incurred my mother’s anger by undertaking -alone this journey to be by your father’s side -in his troubles. She forbade me to come. She said -it was indiscreet, unwomanly, and that I could never -hold up my head again if I outraged society by such a -step. She refused me the money for my journey, so I -sold my jewels to pay my passage over here.”</p> - -<p>“Dear heart!” murmured Marie, pressing Rosalind’s -white hand, while Lucile added:</p> - -<p>“How noble!”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?” cried Rosalind eagerly. “And -do you think your father will be as noble in return? -For mamma said if I dared risk my reputation coming -to him alone this way there was but one thing a man -of honor could do in return for such blind devotion, -and that was to marry me out of hand, to silence gossiping -tongues. Not that I mind, dear girls, but for -mamma’s sake—she is old and prudish, you know—do -you think he would be willing to quiet her foolish -scruples and ease my heart by a quiet marriage -to-morrow? Do you think he would be willing to do -me this kindness? Will you, my dear friends, ask -him for me?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[241]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A BITTER SECRET.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Rosalind Montague here! Ah, Heaven, what ill -work is on foot now?”</p> - -<p>The words broke almost unconsciously from Berenice’s -lips when they told her that her arch enemy was -in the house.</p> - -<p>She flung out protecting arms, and clasped Charley, -as he lay in a half stupor on his couch, murmuring, -half distractedly:</p> - -<p>“Ah, my love, my love, I must guard you now from -her hate as well as from your terrible illness. I will -never leave your side, never, my darling, never leave -you alone, lest her baleful presence overwhelm your -life!”</p> - -<p>The startled sisters thought she must have suddenly -gone mad with unwarrantable hatred of Rosalind, -and they tried to soothe her frenzy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear, what wild words are you saying? -Do you not realize that it is wiser to be friends with -Rosalind, who will have, as our father’s wife, more influence -over him than any one else? She is willing -to be friends with you, and that is noble in Rosalind, -for she was the wronged one in the beginning.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[242]</span></p> - -<p>But the beautiful young wife, who looked so gentle -and spoke so softly, could be spirited enough when she -chose, and she tossed her head proudly and cried, with -flashing eyes and crimson cheeks:</p> - -<p>“I will never be friends with cruel Rosalind, never! -Oh, take her away from here, I beseech you, and -leave me alone with my Charley, in peace and safety. -You may all go with her if you wish, only send her -away, for I cannot know a moment’s peace under the -same roof with Rosalind!”</p> - -<p>Lucile whispered to her sister: “It is pure jealousy, -nothing else—and how silly in Berenice to fear that -Rosalind wants to steal Charley’s heart away!”</p> - -<p>“Tell her the truth, and she will get over it,” was -the answer.</p> - -<p>And so they broke it to Berenice that they had been -talking over matters with their father, explaining Rosalind’s -wishes, and he had agreed to marry her quietly -to-morrow, to silence the tongue of gossip that might -babble because she had come alone to him across -the sea.</p> - -<p>Berenice was almost petrified with astonishment at -the unexpected news.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is horrible to think of!” she cried vehemently. -“Must this terrible sacrifice go on? Will no -one save the victim?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[243]</span></p> - -<p>The sisters began to feel very angry with Berenice, -she was so stubborn, so unjust to Rosalind.</p> - -<p>It was no use arguing with her, she would not listen -to reason. They decided to appeal the case to their -father.</p> - -<p>They told him all Berenice’s resentment, all her -hatred of Rosalind, whom she had already wronged so -deeply, and they told him it was his duty to lecture the -unreasonable young wife and compass her reconciliation -with Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“For if Rosalind is willing to forgive her, Berenice -ought to be thankful to be forgiven,” they said, very -pertinently, and indeed it seemed that way.</p> - -<p>So Senator Bonair himself went to argue the case -with his daughter-in-law, which he did with all the -eloquence at his command, since it was the dearest -wish of his warm heart to have all his family on -friendly terms.</p> - -<p>Berenice listened with downcast eyes and heaving -breast to every word, for she knew she was being -blamed for causeless resentment.</p> - -<p>They thought Charley was asleep in so deep a stupor -he comprehended nothing, but suddenly he opened his -eyes full upon them with the clear light of reason shining -through.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[244]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley, do you know us? Have we disturbed -you?” sobbed Berenice. And he answered weakly:</p> - -<p>“I have been hearing and understanding all you and -father said, and I think you are in the wrong, my -darling.”</p> - -<p>“In the wrong?” she panted.</p> - -<p>“Yes, all in the wrong. If Rosalind wants to be -friends with us, let us yield for father’s sake, because -it will make him happier.”</p> - -<p>Berenice slipped her cold hand in his and looked up -wistfully at her father-in-law, saying:</p> - -<p>“Do you then love Rosalind so very much?”</p> - -<p>For a moment the senator hesitated, then he answered -frankly:</p> - -<p>“I have never pretended to love Rosalind, but I -esteem and admire her very much, so that I am willing -to marry her, to atone for Charley’s desertion.”</p> - -<p>“Then we should all make sacrifices to that end,” -she murmured rather bitterly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think we should,” the senator replied, out -of his high code of honor, though his heart was heavy -in his breast with thoughts of the wedding to-morrow.</p> - -<p>Charley pressed the cold little hand that nestled in his -and faltered weakly:</p> - -<p>“I agree with father, Berenice. We should be friends -with his future wife.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Charley, you would not ask me if you knew -all!” she sobbed, then suddenly:</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, for we have wronged Rosalind so -much that we cannot sit in judgment on her sins. Yes, -yes, I will bury my resentment, I will be friends for -your sakes, not for hers.”</p> - -<p>They were glad of even that concession, and Senator -Bonair hastened to say that he would like to bring -Rosalind in and have the greeting over, that is, if it -would not agitate Charley too much.</p> - -<p>Charley faintly protested that he should not mind -at all.</p> - -<p>So presently the smiling beauty was ushered in to -where Berenice sat stroking Charley’s thin hand so -tenderly in hers, and though the sight almost drove -her wild with anger, she kept her cool, set smile, and -spoke calmly, with friendly words of greeting, though -the hand she touched to theirs was so cold it made -them shudder.</p> - -<p>“I am intruding only for a moment,” she smiled, and -quickly withdrew on the senator’s arm, while Charley -dropped asleep again, and Berenice sobbed to herself -in silent grief:</p> - -<p>“Oh, my secret, my bitter secret I have kept so long, -would that I could forget it now!”</p> - -<p>The day waned to a close, the purple gloaming fell,<span class="pagenum">[246]</span> -and the nurse who had had a day off for rest, now -came in, saying:</p> - -<p>“You have been in so closely all day you must go -out into the fresh air and rest a while. I will watch -your husband carefully.”</p> - -<p>She wondered why Berenice caught her hand so -tightly, whispering passionately:</p> - -<p>“I will not go until you promise to remain closely by -the bed and not to trust him to any other, not even -his father and sisters, till I return.”</p> - -<p>“I promise faithfully, madam,” returned the nurse.</p> - -<p>“That is well,” said Berenice briefly, and she slipped -out into the fragrant, balmy gloaming, with a sense of -relief in the perfect solitude.</p> - -<p>She walked down the quiet country road a little -way, drawing back into the shadows as a man passed -her on his way toward the cottage, reining his horse -up there a little later, as she saw to her intense surprise. -For a moment, in one hurried glance, she -thought she recognized this man. Was he, could he -possibly be Adrian Vance, her own mother’s prodigal -son, by a former marriage? Ah, no! it was impossible -that Adrian should appear on the scene, now, -after all these years of absence, during which he had -never seen or written to his mother.</p> - -<p>“I must not go any farther,” she said, pausing suddenly<span class="pagenum">[247]</span> -and sitting down beneath a low-spreading tree, -the center of a thick undergrowth of shrubbery. “I -will sit here and think over my troubles a while, for -my heart misgives me I am not doing right to hold my -peace and let Charley’s noble father marry wicked -Rosalind. She does not love him, I am sure, and—ah, -there are voices. Some one is passing; I hope I shall -not be seen.”</p> - -<p>She drew back and almost held her breath, seeing -through the dark branches that a man and woman -were walking together toward her retreat. She started -in wonder when she saw that it was Rosalind and the -man she had seen on horseback.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[248]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A STOLEN INTERVIEW.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“I must not go any farther, and I cannot stay out -long, for I must not be missed. Let us stop here under -the trees and talk a little while, but it was wrong and -foolish for you to come, Adrian,” said Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“But I could not stay away. I love you too well!” -cried the passionate lover, and before she could reply, -he continued:</p> - -<p>“I was wild to see you and to hear how old Moneybags, -as you call him, looks since he had the smallpox. -I am hoping he is so badly pitted and ugly that you are -disgusted and ready to throw him over.”</p> - -<p>Berenice held her breath; she knew it was wrong to -listen, but curiosity got the better of courtesy.</p> - -<p>“He is homely enough, I assure you, to disgust any -squeamish person,” answered Rosalind, with a laugh, -“but I would marry him if he were the Old Boy himself, -with all that money.”</p> - -<p>“How I hate him and envy him!” complained the -man bitterly. “If I had only half that money, would -you marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, for only half of it, and be thankful!” cried<span class="pagenum">[249]</span> -Rosalind. “For, after all, I shall not get more than -half, anyway. There are his two daughters to inherit, -and, besides, he has made up with Charley; and -unless I play my cards very cleverly he will revoke that -disinheritance and leave him a million or so, very -likely.”</p> - -<p>“But I thought his son was going to die?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind. He is recovering very fast, -and so is his wife, the low actress, and they think I have -forgiven them and will have them whining around me -after I marry the father. But nothing of the kind, -I can assure you, for I have sworn they shall never -cross the senator’s threshold when once it is mine.”</p> - -<p>“It is hard lines on you, Rosalind, after thinking -them both dead.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, is it not? I am almost tempted to give him an -overdose of something when no one is looking. It -would soon finish him in his weak state, eh?”</p> - -<p>It almost seemed to Berenice that the man’s shuddering -shook the branches where he leaned, or was it -only a light wind?</p> - -<p>He said quickly:</p> - -<p>“Ugh! Rosalind, you make me shudder, you say -jesting things so seriously. No, don’t poison the poor -fellow. Murder will out, you know. Oh, I say, darling, -cut it all and come away with me and be married<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> -in Paris. We love each other, and we can be -happy somehow. As for money, there’s the gambling -table. I never told you I broke the bank at Monte -Carlo once. I did, and I can do it again.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve been over all that before, Adrian, to no -good. Why repeat it? I love you as well as I once -loved Charley, but I will never marry any but a rich -man, I swear. But I have promised you, and I mean -it, that you shall be my true lover, while old Moneybags -lives, and when he dies, my second husband,” -Rosalind answered frankly, and the man sighed:</p> - -<p>“Do you think he will live long, Rosalind?”</p> - -<p>“No, not very long, my own Adrian, for there are -many easy ways to hurry an old man into his grave. -But it is too soon to talk of that, now. Wait till I’m -safely his wife and get his will made in my favor, then -you and I can plot the finish, see?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see, and I am with you to the end—and -afterward. Ah, Rosalind, what a woman you are! -If you did not love me I should be afraid of you!” -Adrian Vance muttered huskily.</p> - -<p>Rosalind gave one of her harsh, grating laughs, and -said:</p> - -<p>“Love can turn to hate.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that I should beware of you. But I<span class="pagenum">[251]</span> -cannot, my queen, for I worship you. And—and—I -shall be so jealous of that old man when he owns -you that I shall be tempted to thrust a knife into his -heart!”</p> - -<p>“Pray don’t, Adrian! Poison in his winecup would -be safer, you know. But I must leave you, for I have -much to do. I am to be married to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Heavens—to-morrow!” gasped her lover wildly, -jealously.</p> - -<p>She answered lightly:</p> - -<p>“To-morrow, for the senator proposed it and insists -upon it.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! how shall I bear my jealous agony? One kiss, -Rosalind!”</p> - -<p>Berenice turned hot and cold, hearing repeated kisses -and ardent caresses that made the leaves rustle as they -leaned against them, then they sprang apart.</p> - -<p>“We must go back, Adrian; I really cannot stay another -minute. Do not grieve so. You will not be -banished, you know. I shall soon introduce you as a -friend of the family. Ha! ha!”</p> - -<p>They passed out of sight, still talking, leaving Berenice -crouched beneath the tree, with hot cheeks and -a wildly beating heart.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she got upon her knees on the dewy grass<span class="pagenum">[252]</span> -and lifted her wide, horrified dark eyes to the heavens, -where myriad stars began to sparkle through the blue.</p> - -<p>With clasped hands she prayed piteously:</p> - -<p>“Oh, what shall I do? Can I let this fiend impose -on this good, honorable old man and shame the name he -will give her by a liaison with this unworthy lover, who -will help her to murder him at last for his money? -Oh, it is too horrible that I should keep her terrible -secrets and let the sacrifice go on! I must save him, -I must expose her in all her hideous depravity to those -who love and trust her now. Oh, show me the way, -show me the way to-morrow, to unmask this fiend!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[253]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE WEDDING DAY.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Berenice was walking past the open door of the sitting -room, when Marie called to her kindly:</p> - -<p>“Come in, you dear, pale little ghost, and help us -to plan for the wedding this evening.”</p> - -<p>Berenice’s heart gave a wild, startled leap as she -obeyed.</p> - -<p>They were all there together, the sisters with their -husbands, the senator and Rosalind, all planning for the -wedding that Berenice knew must never be.</p> - -<p>The senator placed a chair for her and started when -he saw her pallid face with the dark circles around the -heavy eyes. Even her little hands were trembling with -terrible agitation.</p> - -<p>“Really, Berenice, you look ill this morning. Did -you have a bad night, dear?” Lucile asked, with affectionate -interest.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I had a very bad night. I could not sleep. -Something troubled my mind,” she faltered.</p> - -<p>“You must learn not to take your troubles to bed -with you, child,” declared Marie; “it’s the worst plan -in the world. But stay with us and we will divert you, -talking about the wedding. Do you think this room<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> -will do, if we order some flowers? It is very small, -to be sure, but there will be no invited guests. Poor -Rosalind has not even a wedding gown of white, except -an old torn lace robe that she brought in her dressing -bag with her, to see if the clever lacemakers of France -could mend it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is a priceless, real lace gown,” explained -Rosalind, “that I wore at a ball at Bonair one night, -and some clumsy partner of mine must have put his -foot through the edge of the flounce and torn it, for -there’s a piece as large as your hand torn out and missing, -though the servants searched the ballroom carefully -for it next morning. You remember the very -night, Berry,” graciously, “for you played on the Bonair -stage that night in ‘A Wayside Flower.’”</p> - -<p>Berenice parted her dry lips with a sort of gasp, and -murmured, in husky tones:</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I should remember it, I think, for it was -on that same night the disguised fortune teller, my -secret enemy, tried to murder me by pushing me into -the bear pit, hoping Zilla would kill me in her rage -over being disturbed with her young.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that terrible night; don’t recall it!” shuddered -Rosalind, adding, to change the subject: “My misfortune -with my costly lace gown was as nothing compared -to your dreadful accident.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[255]</span></p> - -<p>Berenice smiled strangely, for all at once there had -come to her the answer to her prayer of last night to -be shown some way to bring her enemy to confusion.</p> - -<p>She forced herself to look at Rosalind, courteously, -but feeling all the while like a traitor, as she said:</p> - -<p>“But cannot the gown be patched up for the ceremony, -some way, with a scrap of lace? I think I -might help you, as I have some fine lace, and am rather -skillful with the needle. Will you show it to me?”</p> - -<p>“Willingly!” cried Rosalind, falling into the trap, -and hastening to secure the gown that was folded -away in a dressing bag she had brought.</p> - -<p>She came back and unfolded the tissue wrappers and -spread the lovely web of lace open before their eyes.</p> - -<p>There, in the front flounce, was the great tear, as -big as your hand, marring all its beauty. Every one -began to exclaim over it in sympathy with Rosalind.</p> - -<p>“Now, a needle and some very fine thread, please,” -said trembling Berenice, and when they were supplied -she opened a large gold locket on her bosom and drew -from it a little wad of lace that when fitted into the -torn flounce matched the pattern perfectly.</p> - -<p>Several voices cried, in unison:</p> - -<p>“The missing piece of lace—how wonderful!”</p> - -<p>“You found it!” cried Rosalind, in amazement. -“But where?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[256]</span></p> - -<p>But even as she spoke she turned slightly pale, and -added:</p> - -<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter where it was found so that -I have it back. What a fuss we are all making over a -bit of lace!”</p> - -<p>“You made fuss enough yourself when it was lost at -Bonair!” cried Marie, sharply, while they all fell to -watching Berenice, who was putting in the torn lace -with neat little stitches, though her hands shook sadly, -so that she said:</p> - -<p>“I am making a poor job of it, Miss Montague, but -you can get a real lace maker to do it over again for -you. You see, it makes me so nervous just thinking of -the night when I found this scrap of lace, and of all -I suffered afterward.”</p> - -<p>“Try not to think of it at all,” soothingly said Rosalind, -but Berenice raised her dark eyes, swimming in -tears, and murmured:</p> - -<p>“I must think of it, for it is my duty to tell everything -I know about that night.”</p> - -<p>“Go on, I am sure it will be very interesting,” exclaimed -Clarence Carlisle, Marie’s husband.</p> - -<p>“I needn’t tell about that night when I was pushed -into the bear pit,” continued Berenice, “for all that -are here have heard the story over and over, but some<span class="pagenum">[257]</span> -things that I never told before I mean to betray now, -and one is that the pretended Indian seeress was no -Indian at all, but a disguised and jealous enemy of -mine, who desired to compass my death. I am sure -of it, for in our struggle on the edge of the pit the -woman uttered some angry words, in her own voice, -which I instantly recognized. Then I clutched at her, -and as I fell I knew I had something clutched in my -frantic grasp that I had torn from her gown. It was -this piece of lace that Mrs. Cline, simple soul, not -dreaming of the mute witness it bore against my would-be -murderer, disentangled from my unconscious fingers -and kept for me. But it did not need this mute witness -for me, for as I fell I saw my enemy’s face -and heard her taunting voice, and I knew you, Miss -Montague, for what you were, a guilty sinner, wreaking -a terrible revenge on a hapless rival. Then when -Charley sprang down to my rescue, you flew back and -tried to destroy him also by a cowardly bullet, for the -Clines saw the white figure running away from the -scene of the double crime.”</p> - -<p>She heard low, startled cries all around her, and -lifting her accusing eyes she looked at Rosalind.</p> - -<p>Out of her dead-white face her blue eyes glared like -two points of steel, with murder in their gleam, and -from between her stiff, white lips came bleakly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[258]</span></p> - -<p>“You lie! Had this charge been true, you would -have told the secret long ago.”</p> - -<p>Berenice, paling, trembling, continued:</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken, for an impulse of generous pity -made me keep your hideous secret locked fast in my -own breast, until now. I never meant to speak until—last -night—when—I—heard—you—with—your—lover—beneath—the -trees!”</p> - -<p>“Liar! Viper! Oh, let me tear her false tongue -from her lips!” snarled Rosalind, but strong hands -pinioned her and held her back, that Berenice might -finish speaking.</p> - -<p>She turned her dark, solemn, truthful eyes upon her -father-in-law.</p> - -<p>“Last night the nurse sent me out for a breath of -fresh air, and while I rested under the trees a man -passed by on horseback and reined up before the cottage -gate. He came back presently with Rosalind, and -not dreaming of my presence they talked over their terrible -secrets together. Those two lovers, Senator Bonair, -ridiculed you, laughed at you as old Moneybags, -plotted to remain lovers after her marriage to you, and -to make way with you as quickly as possible that she -might take him for a second husband. Then they -sealed their terrible bargain with a hundred kisses and -caresses, and went away, unconscious of a listener,<span class="pagenum">[259]</span> -who, to save you, sir, from their cruel machinations, -has broken the silence of more than a year to warn you -of lurking danger, if you marry Rosalind Montague.”</p> - -<p>The voice ceased and Berenice waited with a beating -heart for them all to denounce her and take Rosalind’s -part.</p> - -<p>Then Senator Bonair said dully, as if shocked into -apathy:</p> - -<p>“Now, Rosalind, for your defense!”</p> - -<p>She answered, with angry evasion:</p> - -<p>“If you can take that low creature’s word against -mine, why need I attempt a defense?”</p> - -<p>Marie’s husband spoke up quickly:</p> - -<p>“I can corroborate Mrs. Bonair’s word in one thing. -Last night I saw the horseman she spoke of ride up to -the gate, saw Miss Montague meet him and walk away -with him. Afterward witnessed their return and parting, -with a kiss. You remember, Dallas, I told you and -asked your advice?”</p> - -<p>“And I counseled secrecy over what seemed the close -of perhaps a harmless flirtation,” Dallas Dreem replied.</p> - -<p>“You should have told us!” pouted the young wives, -darting angry glances at Rosalind, who, seeing the -game was all up, cleared her throat and said angrily, -defiantly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[260]</span></p> - -<p>“Take your hands off me, sirs; I shall not touch -the little liar. I am only going to say that I admit -everything, and am only sorry I did not kill both her -and Charley in the bear pit.”</p> - -<p>Her blue eyes blazed fury, and Senator Bonair cried -wrathfully:</p> - -<p>“I shall be forever grateful to Berenice for unmasking -you and saving me from a detested marriage. Now -go to your lover; we must be rid of you as soon as -possible!”</p> - -<p>“Would you send me away penniless?” cried Rosalind, -angry and humiliated at the utter failure of her -schemes. “I sold my jewels to come to you, and my -lover is a poor man!”</p> - -<p>The senator plucked a great roll of bills from his -pocket and tossed them at her feet.</p> - -<p>“There are three thousand dollars. It is the price -of never seeing your face again,” he thundered. “Now -go and leave us to the happiness of a reunited family!”</p> - -<p>She snatched up the money and the lace gown and -rushed from the room. Three days later she and -Adrian Vance appeared before Mrs. Brander, in Paris.</p> - -<p>“We are married and settled in Paris,” she announced -calmly. “Old Moneybags was so homely, with -his smallpox scars, that I threw him over and married<span class="pagenum">[261]</span> -my poor, handsome Adrian. I have written to mamma, -but I fear she will never forgive us.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Brander thought it all very strange, but later -on the truth leaked out, and she knew the false beauty -for what she really was—a reckless, disappointed -schemer.</p> - -<p>But Charley Bonair did not learn all that happened -until many days after, when his convalescence was an -assured thing and he could hear, without danger to his -health, the happy news that Rosalind had been banished -in disgrace, and that the senator had reinstated him in -his good graces, and given the Washington palace to -Berenice as a wedding gift.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[262]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">TROUBLE BEGINS AGAIN.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>When Charley had fully recovered, he and his lovely -young wife decided to go to England where the first -part of their married life had flowed along on mingled -currents of joy and sorrow. They hoped to revisit -the happier scenes; and, moreover, Charley had still -another motive in returning. News had reached Senator -Bonair that an old English estate was for sale; and, -in the full tide of rejoicing over his deliverance from -Rosalind, and his pride in his “united family,” he offered -to buy the estate for his son.</p> - -<p>“No, it’s too much for you to do for me, dad!” exclaimed -Charley, when the astounding proposition was -made. “I don’t deserve such generosity!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” was his father’s laconic answer. “But -if I’m of the opinion that you do—well, that should -be sufficient. What do <em>you</em> say, Berry?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you know I think nothing is too good for -Charley!” answered Berry, with a smile. “But, of -course, we both appreciate how dear and generous you -are.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense!” laughed the senator. “I confess I myself -have a desire for this Erda estate, but, as I have all<span class="pagenum">[263]</span> -I can manage, with my duties in Washington and my -country seat in California, I’m quite willing to buy this -estate for Charles, if he wishes to join the ranks of -the American-English ‘landed gentry.’”</p> - -<p>Charles was more than willing, as his father knew. -He was also profoundly grateful for his father’s generosity -in making such a gift, which was all the more -impressive as it was destined to be the last.</p> - -<p>Hardly had the negotiations for the sale been completed, -and the Erda estate came into Charles Bonair’s -proud possession, when the senator, whose health had -for some time been failing, fell seriously ill. All -that the best English physicians could do proved unavailing; -for, after a brief illness, he died, and was -taken to America for burial near his beautiful California -estate.</p> - -<p>When Charles and his wife finally returned to England, -after this sad interruption of their plans, they -found surprising news awaiting them at Crumplesea, -a summer resort near Thetford Towers, as the Erda -estate was called. The news was conveyed in a letter -from Rosalind, who had not even had the grace to -send condolences to any of the Bonair family.</p> - -<p>It was addressed to Berry, and ran as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“You may, or may not, be surprised to know that -my husband is your stepbrother, Adrian Vance. He<span class="pagenum">[264]</span> -informed me of this fact not long ago, indeed before -we were married, but I found I loved him well enough -to forgive his humble ancestry, even though in marrying -him I was forced to claim kinship with you! We -are, therefore, by stretching a point, sisters-in-law, and -it is quite likely that, after all, we may meet again.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“I hope not!” said Berry, after a pause.</p> - -<p>“Amen to that!” answered Charles. “But we seem -to be fated to meet that woman, in one way or another, -wherever we go! I wonder how she found -out that we are here?”</p> - -<p>“She must have seen, in the newspapers, notices of -the sale of Thetford Towers.”</p> - -<p>“Of course! And probably she will expect us to -ask them to visit us, in her new capacity as sister-in-law! -Oh, she is quite capable of that! Especially -now that father is dead. Well, she will be woefully -disappointed, if <em>we</em> have anything to say about it!”</p> - -<p>Berry smiled. “We may have less to say than we -think, dear; the matter may be taken quite out of -our hands by Rosalind herself. I foresee trouble. Another -thing: Adrian is a mere adventurer, a gambler, -and if he married her only for her money, how long -do you suppose that will last?”</p> - -<p>“What a worldly-wise little pessimist you are, dear!” -responded Charles, with a laugh. “Come, tear up this<span class="pagenum">[265]</span> -insulting troublesome letter, and let’s drive over to the -Towers. What’s the use of vexing ourselves with a -mere chance that may not occur for a dozen years?”</p> - -<p>This easy-going philosophy proved to be the wrong -one, for they heard again from Rosalind, two years -later. This time it was to announce the birth of a -daughter, who was to be named Dora. Why Rosalind -had taken the trouble to send this announcement to -the Bonairs, in spite of their continued indifference to -her existence, was not clear to Berry, who merely remarked: -“I suppose she has reasons of her own.” -But Charles saw through this move clearly enough. He -readily guessed that Rosalind and her husband had not -given up hope of being received at Thetford Towers; -all the more now, for the sake of their daughter, -Berry’s niece, and also because their fortunes were -known to be on the wane.</p> - -<p>His understanding was aided by reports of Adrian’s -reckless speculations which he had heard from time -to time, during his occasional visits in London.</p> - -<p>On one of these occasions, he had, unknown to -Berry, received a letter from Adrian Vance, requesting -the loan of a large sum of money with which to -pay several importunate creditors; and he had even -gone so far as to lend Adrian half the amount, hoping -thereby to avoid further difficulties with the Vance<span class="pagenum">[266]</span> -family. In this hope he was destined to be disappointed; -for Adrian suddenly appeared at Thetford -Towers, early in the following summer, and sought an -interview with Charles and Berry.</p> - -<p>The meeting was not pleasant to any of the three. -Charles was frankly indignant, Berry cool and reserved, -Adrian in a tumult of embarrassment, envy, -and resentment.</p> - -<p>“Rosalind is well, I dare say,” he said, in answer to -their perfunctory question. “I’ve not seen her for -several months. She’s studying to go on the stage—you’ll -have her again for a rival, Berry, in your former -sphere.”</p> - -<p>The covert insolence of this seemingly playful remark -was not lost upon its hearers, who took no notice -of it, however, and soon afterward managed to bring -the interview to a close. Adrian departed, no richer -than he had come.</p> - -<p>Before the end of the summer, he was killed in a -railroad accident on the Continent, and Rosalind, the -heiress whom he had reduced to poverty and driven to -the stage, left the country, and was not again seen in -England for many years. When she returned to trouble -and harass her “relatives,” it was in an unexpected -and disgraceful way.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[267]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">IN NEW GUISE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Years passed, fourteen happy and uneventful years, -during most of which the Bonairs lived quietly on their -English estate, among their friends in England and -from America. Charles’ sisters, Lucile and Marie, -with their families, spent alternate summers at Thetford -Towers, or traveling on the Continent, while during -the winters the Bonairs fled to California.</p> - -<p>One day, in early summer, Berry intended to drive -over to Crumplesea, in her motor car, to say good-by -to her old friends, the Westons, who were leaving the -next morning. Willis Weston had married a charming -American heiress years ago, and had become one -of the leading dramatists and managers of America.</p> - -<p>Charles was absent from England, at this time, having -gone to New York on business which would detain -him there.</p> - -<p>It was a perfect summer day, warm and sunny, and -Berry could not help feeling happy and secure from -trouble or harm. But as in every life, clouds sometimes -gather on the horizon and overshadow it for a while; -so now, had she only known it, another storm was -impending.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[268]</span></p> - -<p>The first sign thereof was a slight mishap which -brought the motor car to a standstill halfway on the -road to Crumplesea.</p> - -<p>Berry, who was somewhat of a fatalist in her way, -always declared that the thing was foreordained. Mellish, -chauffeur, simply said—sotto voce, of course—that -it was “cursed bad luck, though no more than -he had expected when Mrs. Bonair would have the -car out to-day, after she’d been told that it ought to -be sent to the garage yesterday, and she might just -as well have used the victoria as not.”</p> - -<p>The facts of the case may be related in a few words: -The motor car had come up over the brow of the hill -on its way back from Thetford Towers, and was rolling -sedately through the drowsy stillness of Crumplesea, -when a sharp metallic “zing-g-g!” sounded, and -off came the tire of the left forewheel. Crumplesea -boasted of three hotels and no end of “apartments,” -but it could only lay claim to one garage, at the other -end of the town, close to where the new hall—dignified -by the name of opera house—had recently been -erected. Mellish, who had learned this fact from the -small gathering of idlers which the accident had collected—and -to whom Berry was known, by sight and -by name, about as well as the town clock itself—imparted<span class="pagenum">[269]</span> -the knowledge to his mistress, and was rather -surprised that she took it with such equanimity.</p> - -<p>“Very well, send for the man and have the thing -set right at once,” she said. “It is only a step to the -Crumplesea Hotel, and I dare say that Mercy Blint -can manage to make me comfortable and get me a cup -of tea while I am waiting. You can come back there -for me when the tire has been put on again. But don’t -be any longer than is absolutely necessary; I want to -get home before dark, if possible!”</p> - -<p>And then with the utmost serenity she alighted and -walked straightway to the Crumplesea Hotel, which establishment -was run by a woman who had once been -her maid, and who, on the occasion of her marriage -with the under butler, had been pensioned off some -years ago.</p> - -<p>Inquiry brought forth the intelligence that Mercy -herself was absent for the day, but Mercy’s husband -was there, and himself showed her ladyship into what -was known as the coffee room—every other room in -the house being engaged at the time—and rushed away -in person to get tea for her.</p> - -<p>And here it was that Berry saw another sign of -trouble—the glaring, brightly colored aggressively -prominent sign which always made her think that to-day’s -accident had been foreordained.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[270]</span></p> - -<p>It took the shape of a bill announcing the forthcoming -opening of the new Crumplesea Opera House, -when—to quote the announcement verbatim—“Mr. -Milton Dante’s celebrated company of London artists -would present the world-famous musical play, ‘The -Beauty of Gotham,’ headed by the gifted and beautiful -American actress and prima donna, Miss Rosalind -Montague-Vance.”</p> - -<p>A slow pallor, creeping like a snail, came steadily -down over Berry’s face as she saw that bill. She stood -for a long time looking fixedly at the printed words -and not saying one word, not making one sound.</p> - -<p>So she was still standing when, some twenty minutes -later, her tea was brought into her by the obsequious -Blint himself.</p> - -<p>She sat down and drank the tea and ate the buttered -toast she had ordered, and then rang the bell and called -the man back to the room.</p> - -<p>“Blint,” she said, pointing to the bill hanging upon -the wall, “have those people come to Crumplesea as -yet? I see they are advertised to open the new hall -next Thursday. Have they come here yet?”</p> - -<p>“No, my lady, not yet, of course; it’s best part of a -week until Thursday. The advance agent will be here -to-morrow, though, to make arrangements for rooms -and the like. Hamer—him as runs the Cliff Hotel, as<span class="pagenum">[271]</span> -you may remember, seeing that he’s a tenant of yours—got -word to that effect this afternoon, and come over -to see if I’d any rooms vacant; him not being able to -put up the whole party.”</p> - -<p>Berry pushed back her empty teacup, and rose.</p> - -<p>“See that they don’t get any, then,” she said, in a -singularly dry voice. “See that every room in every -hotel in the place is engaged for me. I don’t care -what it costs, I want them all. Engage them for me.”</p> - -<p>“I beg pardon, ma’am, but—but can you really -mean it?”</p> - -<p>“Am I in the habit of saying things that I do not -mean? I see that they are billed to appear for three -nights. Take all the vacant rooms in all the hotels for -that period, in my name. Shut them out of every -accommodation and force them to go elsewhere, if you -can, and that woman, above all!”</p> - -<p>The man gave a nervous start and looked as though -he had received a shock.</p> - -<p>“My lady!” he said, with a frightened look. -“Heaven preserve us! it’s not her? It’s never the—the -Yankee woman who married your—your brother, -Mr. Vance?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is. I never want to see her, but I recognize -the name; as Mercy would have done, had she been -at home. Now go and do what I have told you, and<span class="pagenum">[272]</span> -see that the woman finds no place to stop here. If you -think the manager of the hall can be bought to cancel -the engagement of the company——”</p> - -<p>“It is not possible, my lady; the thing was arranged -months ago.”</p> - -<p>“So much the worse for me, then. However, I’ll do -what I can. Go and engage every vacant room you -can hear of, and go at once, please.”</p> - -<p>Blint, in a state of shaking nervousness, flew to obey, -and when, half an hour afterward, he came back to announce -that he had done as he had been bidden, he -found the repaired motor car at the door and her ladyship -sitting in it.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” she said, as Blint came back with the -list of the rooms he had engaged in her name. “Reckon -up the sum total and I will send you a check for the -amount. Home, Mellish.”</p> - -<p>And then the motor car swung out into the roadway -and rolled off through the fast deepening Kentish dusk.</p> - -<p>And this was how it was that when Mr. Milton -Dante’s advance agent came down to Crumplesea to arrange -accommodations for the company, he found -every available inch of room in the several hotels engaged -for a week to come.</p> - -<p>“Company’ll have to go into apartments, that’s all,”<span class="pagenum">[273]</span> -he said, in his airy, offhand way to Mr. Bodwin, the -proprietor and manager of the newly erected Crumplesea -Opera House. “Dante won’t like that, of course, -for he’s struck a rich thing in getting the provincial -rights to the ‘Beauty of Gotham,’ and he’s putting on -no end of side, and insisting on all the members of the -company putting up at hotels, instead of lodging houses -and the like. It’s hard on some of ’em—especially the -low-salaried ‘utility people’—but he’s in a position to -dictate, and it’s that or nothing for most of ’em, poor -devils! I dare say there’ll be many of ’em who’ll be as -pleased as Punch over the mishap; but if the Montague -doesn’t raise the roof, when she learns that she -will have to go into apartments, you can write me -down as an ass.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me! is she a very violent person, then?” -queried the manager apprehensively. “We are a very -circumspect people here in Crumplesea, Mr. Billet, although -the place is gaining renown as a seaside resort, -and you quite alarm me with these hints.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t let that worry you. She won’t be in the -town twenty-four hours before every man in it is gone -on her and willing to swear that she’s the sweetest thing -that ever happened. If ever she manages to get a -hearing in London—and she will yet; she’s not the -kind of woman to be kept in the provinces forever—somebody’s<span class="pagenum">[274]</span> -title will come her way, I warrant you. -And it won’t be a mere empty title, either; it will be -one well backed up with capital—trust her for that! -She’s a highflyer, and she comes from a country where -they know how to get full value for everything. Wait -till she gets to London, that’s all. She’s not too old -to hook a fish worth landing, even yet.”</p> - -<p>“How old is she, Mr. Billet?”</p> - -<p>“Ask me something easier! On the stage she looks -about twenty, on the street about—oh, well, I’m too -old a hand at this business to be caught belying the -posters,” returned Mr. Billet, with a laugh and a wink. -“But look here; draw your own conclusions. She -owns up to five and twenty, and when a woman does -that—especially a woman in the theatrical profession—you -can safely add anything from five to ten to her -figures, and not feel that you are doing her any injustice. -Now then, show me the way to the post office, -will you? I want to send a wire to Dante to prepare -him for this little muddle about the accommodations; -and, look here, Mr. Bodwin! take a fool’s advice and -don’t you waste your time in going off your head over -fair Rosalind when you see her—though, I dare say, -you will, for all that; she seems born to make men do it -wherever she goes—but just remember that you -haven’t the ghost of a chance; and wouldn’t have if you<span class="pagenum">[275]</span> -owned all Crumplesea. Remember, I have warned -you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, but it is useless warning. I am already -a married man.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Billet looked up into his face, and laughed.</p> - -<p>“So was Anthony,” he said. “Now come and show -me the way to the post office.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The curtain had fallen upon the close of the second -act of “The Beauty of Gotham,” and Miss Montague-Vance -had disappeared for the nonce from the enraptured -gaze of Oakhampton—it was at the Oakhampton -Theater that the company was appearing to-night—when -Mr. Milton Dante—his baptismal certificate -read “Peter Burridge,” by the way—came round behind -the scenes in a state of angry excitement and -rapped loudly upon Miss Montague-Vance’s dressing-room -door.</p> - -<p>“It’s me—Milt,” he said, in the quiet original grammar -of his native Battersea. “I’ve got something to -show you. Can I come in?”</p> - -<p>“No. If it’s anything important, just wait five minutes -and I’ll be out.”</p> - -<p>The five minutes passed and the door opened, and -out of it issued a creature so lovely, that even Mr.<span class="pagenum">[276]</span> -Milton Dante—who ought by this time to be used to -it, Heaven knows—felt a little thrill as the vision -dawned upon him.</p> - -<p>“Scotland! but you do look scrummy to-night!” he -said admiringly.</p> - -<p>“Never mind how I look,” returned “the vision,” -with an exceedingly earthy air. “You didn’t come here -to pay me silly compliments, I fancy; or if you did, -you are wasting your time and mine, to no purpose. -What is it you want to say to me? Is it anything nice, -or the reverse?”</p> - -<p>“The reverse, I’m afraid. Our next ‘stand’ is -Crumplesea, and the company will have to go into -apartments when we get there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! no, it won’t; at least I won’t. None of your -seaside apartments for me, if you please! Let others -do what they like—or what you like; I suppose it -amounts to that—but I want the best hotel in the -place.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m afraid we can’t get in. Billet has just -wired me that every hotel in the place is engaged by -some old fool of a woman called Mrs. Bonair, and that—I -say! great Scott! are you ill? Thunder! you’re -as white as a ghost.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind what I am or what I am not,” she -answered, in a singularly hard and singularly uneven<span class="pagenum">[277]</span> -voice. “So that woman has heard of my coming and -has tried like this to shut me out, has she?”</p> - -<p>“What woman? What the dickens are you talking -about? And I say, whatever has come over you? -I expected you to raise the roof and to shy things -when you heard of this, and I’m blessed if you’re not -taking it as meek as Moses.”</p> - -<p>“No, not quite so meek—as you will learn before -this affair is over. So that woman is going to try -to shut me out, is she? Well, it will be a bad day’s -work for her—I promise you that. I would have let -her alone if she had been sensible and let me alone. -But she chooses to show her claws, and so I’ll show -mine.”</p> - -<p>“Who the dickens are you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“About this woman, this Mrs. Bonair, who is going -to try the trick of shutting me out of Crumplesea.”</p> - -<p>“Great Scott! do you know her?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I know her—and what’s more, she shall -know me in a few days, and better than she ever knew -me before in her life. Look here, here’s something -for you to know about me as well—I’ve a daughter.”</p> - -<p>“You?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. You’ve often wondered where I sent so much -of my salary, and now you know. I’ve a daughter -who’s nearly sixteen years old.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[278]</span></p> - -<p>“The dickens you say! It can’t be true.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, and what’s more, it is. She’s at school, -and I haven’t seen her—no, and haven’t wanted to, -either—since she was old enough to walk alone. I’m -going to see her now, however, and Mrs. Bonair is -going to see her, too—see her and hear of her for the -first time. Shut me out, will she? Show her claws -like that, eh, after I’ve let her alone for all these -years? Well, if ever—get out of the way, for goodness’ -sake! That’s the curtain bell, and that little -beast of a call boy never notified me that it was time -to begin.”</p> - -<p>And then, without another word, she turned and -ran up the stairs to the stage as fast as her little satin-shod -feet could go.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[279]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">AT SCHOOL.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Fifteen, love,” said Dora mechanically, as she jotted -down the score. “No, I beg pardon, it isn’t; it’s fifteen -all.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the sort,” snapped her pet aversion, -Gwen Morley, turning on her with a flash of angry resentment. -“You’re not paying attention. It’s thirty, -fifteen; that last ball was a fault, if it’s all the same -to you, Miss Vance, and our side had scored a point -before that. It’s thirty, fifteen, if you please.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well,” said Dora—she made a point of -never bandying words with Gwen Morley. “If it is -thirty, fifteen, I’ll set it down that way. No doubt I -made a mistake; my head aches. Go on with the -game, please, and I will try to keep the score properly—if -I can.”</p> - -<p>“If you can? Well, I like that! What are you here -for? I don’t suppose Miss Skimmers sent you out here -to twiddle your thumbs and look at the sky, although -that’s about all you have done since we started playing. -If you can’t keep the score correctly, say so, and we’ll -get some other gifted and condescending pupil teacher -to do it for you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[280]</span></p> - -<p>Dora swallowed the affront with no more outward -show of her feelings than a slight heightening of her -color, and presently the white balls were skimming -over the tennis net and flying through the hot, still -air again.</p> - -<p>But if she said nothing, she thought a great deal, and -the term “pupil teacher” rankled, though why it should -have done so—unless it was because of the sneering -tone in which it had been spoken—she could not tell. -For a pupil teacher she undoubtedly was, and had been -for this many a long day.</p> - -<p>“It is your mother’s desire that, as she cannot afford -to give you the full advantages enjoyed by more -fortunate pupils, you should do something yourself -to assist in paying for your education,” explained Miss -Skimmers, with something of a sneer, when Dora was -old enough and advanced enough to enter upon this -stage of her existence. “You will divide your time in -future between receiving lessons and in imparting them. -You are quite advanced enough now to teach the little -children of the third form, and I will write and tell -your mother so.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, do, please,” Dora had said, when she was -told this. “If my mother is poor, Miss Skimmers—and -I suppose from what you say, she must be—I don’t -want to be a drag on her, and I should like very much<span class="pagenum">[281]</span> -to do something to help pay for my education. But -what is my mother? You see, I was such a little -thing when I first came here that I don’t remember -living anywhere else or belonging to any one else, and -I thought—oh, Miss Skimmers, I didn’t know until -this minute that I belonged to anybody or had a single -relation in the world. But a mother! How delightful! -Have I a father, too?”</p> - -<p>“No; I was told that your mother was a widow -when you were brought to me; a widow in good circumstances -was how the man—he claimed to be her -solicitor—who brought you here put it, and I was not -undeceived until a year later, when she wrote me to -the contrary, and said that, when you were old enough, -she desired you to do something toward reducing the -expenses of your education.”</p> - -<p>Casting back her memory, when she heard this, Dora -could readily guess when that time was; for she had a -distinct recollection of coming suddenly—and for some -reason unexplained at the time—down from the giddy -eminence of “show pupil,” who was trotted out to be -exhibited whenever a possible new client made his or -her appearance, to the undignified position of something -that ought to be—and was—kept in the background -and translated from the splendors of a bedroom -on the first floor to one that had broken furniture<span class="pagenum">[282]</span> -and discolored walls and nothing but a thin layer -of leaky slates between it and heaven. She had suffered -in that upper-story bedroom—suffered agonies -of heat in summer and tortures of cold in winter, and -the dread of scurrying plaster-disturbing rats at all -seasons, whether hot or cold—but it all sank into insignificance -now before the glory of having a mother.</p> - -<p>“Who is my mother?” she asked of Miss Skimmers, -in the gladness of her heart and the joy of finding -that she possessed such a glorious thing. “Where is -she? What is she? Oh, tell me, please.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Miss Skimmers answered, -as she shrugged her shoulders and walked -away. “All my dealings with her have been through -a third party. But she is evidently not a person of -my class or the class and standing of my other patrons.”</p> - -<p>And considering that Miss Skimmers’ parents had -been in the green-grocer line, and that her pupils were -the daughters of successful drapers, butchers, milliners, -and publicans, Dora was rather glad to hear it.</p> - -<p>In some strange indefinable way she felt herself of -a different clay from the rest of Miss Skimmers’ pupils, -and held herself aloof from them. And they felt it, -too, and hated her for it, hardly knowing why—only -that she always reminded them of a rose in a bed of<span class="pagenum">[283]</span> -dandelions, and, try as they would to remember that -the dandelions were gifted with the hue of gold, they -could not forget that they were little, undersized, -glaring, stiff-stalked, piggish, close-to-the-earth things -and that the rose was always the rose, and that it was -nature’s law that it should hold its head above them -and be a nobler flower than they.</p> - -<p>For a time, the knowledge that she had a mother -somewhere in the world filled Dora with a sense of a -joy that was sufficient in itself, and she used to lie -awake nights and dream of the time when that wonderful -mother would come and take her away, or -perhaps call in the mid-term just to see her, as the -other girls’ mothers sometimes did. But as the weeks -and the months and the years rolled by and brought -no realization of the dream, it died slowly down into -the dead level of her daily life and was forgotten entirely—or -if not actually forgotten, at least laid away, -as children lay away the fables and the fairy tales of -the nursery when they have grown too old to believe -in them as possible things.</p> - -<p>“There wasn’t any truth in it; it was all a ‘make-believe’ -of Miss Skimmers, and I haven’t any mother at -all,” she said to herself whenever the phantom of -that dead hope came back to haunt her. “If I had, -she would not have left me so utterly alone for all<span class="pagenum">[284]</span> -these years—it isn’t human. She will never come—I -know it now—because she doesn’t exist. I seem fated -to pass my life enduring the cold insolence of brewers’ -daughters, like Gwen Morley, and the sneers of people -like Miss Skimmers. I won’t, however. I’ll get out -of it all, as soon as I am old enough to go away, and -I’ll earn my living and make a place for myself in the -world, somehow.”</p> - -<p>That had been her determination months and months -ago, she was thinking of it now as she sat, a dreary, -shabby, spiritless figure, in the grounds of Miss Skimmers’ -“School for Young Ladies,” and watched the -tennis balls fly to and fro through the hot, still air of -the summer afternoon.</p> - -<p>The hot sun beating down upon her made her head -ache, and the glare of the white dresses of the tennis -players hurt her eyes; even the whistling of a thrush -in a near-by tree seemed to irritate her to-day, and -the loud laughter of the girls was positively maddening. -But she kept on with the distasteful task of -umpiring the match, and said never a word, until suddenly -a shadow lengthened across the grass, fell upon -her score book, and made her look up. Then she saw -that one of the housemaids was standing beside her, -and became conscious that the girl was saying something -to her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[285]</span></p> - -<p>“You will have to get some one else to umpire for -a time,” she said, as she rose from her seat and laid -the score book down beside Gwen Morley. “Miss -Skimmers has sent word that she wants to see me at -once.”</p> - -<p>She was unspeakably glad to get out of the heat and -the blinding glare of the sun, and she walked away -instantly, going straight to the cool, shadowy, little -room where Miss Skimmers passed her hours of relaxation, -and where the maid had told her that lady -was waiting for her.</p> - -<p>She opened the door and walked in—wondering the -while what she was going to be taken to task for now; -a summons to Miss Skimmers’ presence usually meaning -that. She was not at all surprised when she beheld -that large plethoric female pacing the room in -a state of violent excitement and wheezing like an -asthmatical dragon.</p> - -<p>“Shameful, I call it, Miss Vance!” she blurted out, -without any preface, as Dora came into the room. -“After all the sacrifices I have made for you, after -all the consideration I have shown you both! And in -the middle of the term, too, without a word of notice -or a chance to supply the vacancy”—her voice rising -to a sort of shriek, as she flung her unwieldy body -about the room. “Shameful, I call it; outrageous, I<span class="pagenum">[286]</span> -call it, and wanting in all respect, all decency, all consideration -for me.”</p> - -<p>“If you will tell me what all this is the prelude to, -Miss Skimmers, perhaps I shall be able to understand -what you mean,” said Dora, in that calm, low, reposeful -voice, which was one of nature’s birth gifts to her, -and which even fourteen years in the Skimmers’ establishment -had not been able to destroy. “Will you -tell me, please, what has happened and let me draw -my own conclusions with regard to what you are -pleased to term the ‘shamefulness’ of it; I suppose it -has something to do with me, or you would not have -sent for me.”</p> - -<p>“It has everything to do with you,” cried Miss -Skimmers, in what Dora, in unholy moments of secret -mirth, was wont to call her “here’s your fine cauliflowers -and nice fresh radishes” voice. “It has everything -to do with you and with that inconsiderate person, -your mother.”</p> - -<p>“My mother? Let us leave that phantom out of the -matter, Miss Skimmers. I am eighteen years of age—or -I shall be in a month—and it is hardly complimentary -to my intelligence to expect me to have faith in -fairy tales now.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” said Miss Skimmers. -“You were always a queer girl, and I never could understand<span class="pagenum">[287]</span> -you. I dare say that your mother is like -you, or she wouldn’t be treating me in this shameful -way and sending for you in the middle of the term -and not giving me a moment’s notice to get some one -to fill your place.”</p> - -<p>Dora’s head swam and she staggered a little as -though the heat had overcome her.</p> - -<p>“My mother,” she said faintly. “You say that my -mother has sent for—oh, Miss Skimmers, are you -losing your senses or am I? My mother? Mine? She -exists? And has sent for me? Oh, Miss Skimmers, -is it really true?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is; and very uncommon shabby of her I call -it, too—sending for you like this, and not giving me -time to fill your place. Here’s her letter, if you want -to see it. She’s stopping at a place called Minorca -Villa, in Crumplesea, on the Kentish coast, and she -writes that you’re to go to her there at once, and not -to delay a moment in starting. And here’s a five-pound -note she inclosed for you to get a new frock and to pay -your railway ticket, and here’s a card, too, with the address -on it, ‘Minorca Villa, Nightingale Road, Crumplesea, -Kent.’”</p> - -<p>Dora took both the letter and the card, read each—in -a state of blissful excitement—and then took possession -of the five-pound note.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[288]</span></p> - -<p>“To think of my mother being a really existing -person!” she said, with a happy little laugh. “Oh, -Miss Skimmers, I can scarcely believe it. I shall go -at once, at once.”</p> - -<p>She was as good as her word. Within the space of -half an hour, she had packed her small belongings -into a shabby valise—a relic of her “first-floor” days—sent -them over to the railway station by a housemaid, -said good-by to the house cat, her only friend and -companion in the dreary days she was leaving behind -her, and had shaken the dust of the Skimmers’ establishment -from her feet forever.</p> - -<p>The day no longer seemed hot and suffocating, and -the sun no longer hurt her eyes as she walked down -the dusty, glaring, treeless road to the railway station—she -was going to her mother, that poor, sorely -tried, wonderful mother, who was an existent, after -all, and whose poverty had kept them so long apart. -For by some strange process of reasoning which was -not compatible with the facts of the case, she had arrived -at the conclusion that poverty was the sole explanation -of her mother’s long neglect of her.</p> - -<p>“Poor little mother!” she thought, as she hurried -out; “it took all she could spare to pay for my education, -of course, and she could not afford to waste -money in coming to see me. What a dear she is to<span class="pagenum">[289]</span> -have done so much! But never mind, I’ll make it all -up to you, and there will be two now to fight the battle, -and as the proverb says, ‘Many hands make light work.’ -I can teach music, and no end of things, and—you’ll -see!—it won’t be long before I find pupils and am in a -position to give you a nice little home and at least -some of the comforts a lady should have.”</p> - -<p>For, of course, her mother was a lady; there could -be no possible doubt of that, considering that in the -old days she had had her affairs attended to by a -family solicitor and was spoken of as a person of considerable -importance—a lady in reduced circumstances, -it is true, but still a lady. In her mind’s eye, Dora -could almost see her already—a sweet-faced, sweet-voiced -motherly old lady with gray hair and mild eyes; -a dear, soft-treading, soft-speaking, gentle old darling, -with a tiny white cap on her head and such beautiful -shapely old hands.</p> - -<p>“How I shall love her; how I shall love her!” said -the girl, with a little rush of happy tears; then she -laughed aloud in her happiness, and, catching sight of -the station at last, quickened her steps, until she was -almost running when she finally entered it. Going up -to the ticket office, she purchased her ticket.</p> - -<p>“Have to change at Morecome Junction,” said the -clerk, in answer to her query; “and if you catch the<span class="pagenum">[290]</span> -connection, you ought to be at Crumplesea about six-forty. -If you miss it, you’ll have to stop at Morecome -the night; there’s no other trains to Crumplesea -until the morning. Train for Morecome’s coming in -now.</p> - -<p>“Number four platform—and you’ll have to step -lively if you want to catch it.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Dora, as she gathered up her -ticket and the change. In another moment, she was -flying down the stairs to the train and to the beginning -of the strange new life that lay before her.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[291]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE MEETING.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>For once, in a way, fortune favored Dora. She -managed to catch the connecting train at Morecome -Junction, and, as a consequence, arrived at Crumplesea—tired -and dusty, but still full of enthusiasm—at -a quarter to seven that same evening.</p> - -<p>It was the night of the opening of the Crumplesea -Opera House, and she found the whole town placarded -with gaudy posters of “The Beauty of Gotham”—glaring, -highly colored things, depicting women with impossible -tresses of an impossible shade of yellow, frisking -about in skirts above their knees.</p> - -<p>But in that first glance she had seen the name, “Miss -Rosalind Montague-Vance,” emblazoned over the boldest -and the most conspicuous of them all, and she -had felt an added shame because of that.</p> - -<p>Not that she had any idea that the bearer of it could -be in any way, even the remotest, connected with herself—for -there were hundreds of “Vances” in the -world; even Miss Skimmers having had more than -one of them enrolled among her pupils in Dora’s time—but -that the knowledge of there being a woman bearing -a name the same as her own, who could let her pictures<span class="pagenum">[292]</span> -be shown in public, made the shame of it seem a personal -matter.</p> - -<p>“How it must shock poor little mother, if she has -seen it, too,” she said to herself. “Fancy having one’s -name flaunted about by a creature like that, and in the -very town where one lives! It must be awful.”</p> - -<p>The change of the five-pound note that had been sent -her was still in her pocket—there had not been time to -stop anywhere and buy the new frock she had been -told to do—and hastily summoning a cabman to her -aid, she gave him the necessary directions, and was -soon speeding away to Minorca Villa with her shabby -old valise on the top of the vehicle.</p> - -<p>Her destination was a rather shabby little brick house -in a side street—there were such things as “apartments” -to be had in Crumplesea, and all the available -ones were engaged for Mr. Milton Dante’s company—and -here at this flat-fronted, dejected-looking little -building, Dora’s long journey from Miss Skimmers’ -seat of learning came to an end.</p> - -<p>“Come in, miss,” said the landlady—who opened -the door in person. “The maid, she’s away—’aving -been sent a’ errand by your sweet ma. You’re Miss -Montague-Vance’s daughter, of course; anybody could -see that at a glance, for you’re the livin’ image of ’er. -’Ere, Sarah! come and take the young lady’s luggage<span class="pagenum">[293]</span> -and carry it up to the room Miss Montague-Vance -selected for ’er. Come in, miss; your sweet ma, she’s -awaitin’ of yer—’aving but recent come back from a -drive round the town with Mr. Bodwin, as owns the -opera ’ouse, and Mr. Dante, as runs the company.”</p> - -<p>All this was Greek to Dora. As a matter of fact, -she hardly heard it, for her mind was in a whirl between -settling with the cabman and realizing that she -was now under the same roof with her unknown -mother. She scarcely knew what was said or done, -until she was led down a short and narrow passage, -and the woman beside her was knocking at the door -before which they both stood.</p> - -<p>“The young lady, mum,” said the woman, as, in answer -to a nonchalant, “Come in,” she turned the knob, -and, letting a strong odor of Turkish cigarettes stream -out into the passage, thrust open the door, “the young -lady, mum, and I’m a-showin’ of ’er straight in like -you asked.”</p> - -<p>Dora waited for nothing more.</p> - -<p>“Mother!” she said, with a little throb in her voice -as she pressed past the landlady and entered the room, -shutting the door behind her.</p> - -<p>It seemed so holy, this meeting for the first time -since infancy with the mother who had borne her! -“It is I; it is Dora; it is——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[294]</span></p> - -<p>Here she stopped. The room was full of smoke, and -through the dense aromatic cloud, she saw a figure -curled up in a deep armchair beside a table littered -with papers, magazines, and cigarette ashes—a figure -clad in a beautiful lace tea gown, and with a lovely, -alluring face framed in a loose mass of disheveled -wine-gold hair.</p> - -<p>“Oh! I beg your pardon,” said Dora, coloring -and instinctively fumbling for the knob of the door. -“Such an absurd mistake. Pray forgive me; the fault -was not mine. I expected to find my mother here.”</p> - -<p>“Well, so you have done. If you are Dora—and -what an absurdly big creature you have grown! I am -your mother.”</p> - -<p>“You? Absurd! Oh, pardon me, I don’t mean to -be rude, but really this is too silly. You can’t be -more than a year or two older than I am myself—and -I am nearly eighteen years of age.”</p> - -<p>“Nearly sixteen, please; I’ve told Dante that, and -we may as well stick to it. It’s bad enough to have -to confess that I’m old enough to have a daughter -nearly sixteen, without adding two years to it, for -the sake of truth. What in the world has made you -grow like this? Of course, I know that your father -was tall, but if I had thought that you were as big -and as old-looking as you are, I don’t believe I should<span class="pagenum">[295]</span> -had have courage enough to send to that Skimmers -woman for you—although I don’t know; it’s worth -something to have a dig at your aunt! What are you -staring at me like this for? For pity’s sake, sit down. -Why didn’t you get a new dress? I sent money for you -to do so. But perhaps the Skimmers woman didn’t -give it to you? Did she? Why don’t you answer? -I hate people who stare and say nothing. Sit down -and talk to me, for goodness’ sake. I haven’t much -time to waste with you, anyway; I’ve got to be off -to the theater in a few minutes. I’m opening the -new opera house to-night, you know—or, perhaps, -you don’t know! But the town is well billed, and if -you have any eyes at all you must have seen my name -on the boardings.”</p> - -<p>Dora drew back with a sudden influx of memory -and with a shuddering sense of repulsion. “Oh, you -don’t mean—you can’t mean that you—you are that -woman? And that you are my mother as well?”</p> - -<p>“Why can’t I mean it? Look here! that Skimmers -woman hasn’t raised you like some Puritanical old -granny, has she? I’m going to put you on the stage, -you know, and have a ‘go’ at your spiteful aunt, in -that way. She always treated her brother and me very -shabbily. I don’t suppose you ever heard much about -your father? Well, he was the unfortunate stepbrother<span class="pagenum">[296]</span> -to the richest woman in this part of the country: -Mrs. Charles Bonair. He’s dead, by the way, -so you won’t be worried by him. Although I wrote -her, she wouldn’t give a farthing to me. Stingy old -cat! I told her about you—oh, make no mistake about -that—and I’ll make her pay dear for what she has -tried to do against me in this town. She would not -let sleeping dogs lie, and now that she has waked ’em -up, she’ll have to pay the price for it, if I know myself.”</p> - -<p>Something that was like the pressure of a strong -hand gripped Dora’s throat. She did not speak; she -could not—all strength, mental as well as physical, -seemed somehow to have died within her, and, in a sort -of collapse, she sank down on the edge of a convenient -seat, and stared dumbly at the shining figure -before her; a sense of shuddering repulsion biting into -her soul and mirroring itself, in spite of her, in her -fixed eyes. For, somehow, this woman, her newly -found mother, reminded her of a snake curled up in -rose leaves.</p> - -<p>“Don’t stare at me like that or I shall throw something -at you, in a minute!” blazed wrathfully the object -of her attention, reading that look and starting -suddenly up in a temper. “I can see how it is: you -hate me. No; don’t trouble yourself to tell a polite lie—that<span class="pagenum">[297]</span> -sort of thing is wasted on me—and besides, the -sentiment is reciprocated. I think I never saw a more -ill-favored, unlovable creature in my life! It positively -makes me ill to look at you, with your way of -looking at people as though they were dirt beneath -your feet. Upon my soul, I’m half inclined to send -you back to where you came from and to have nothing -more to do with you.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you would,” said Dora impulsively. “It -was a hard life at Miss Skimmers’ but—I wish you -would.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you? Well, I won’t, then! I’m not the -kind of person to invest in stocks and then tear up -the certificates. I may be like a hen who has hatched -out an eagle’s egg, but—the eagle is of some use to me -at present, and I’m not going to have it kicked out of -the nest, simply because it desires that sort of thing. -I’ve made all my arrangements with Milt Dante, and -I’m going to put you on the stage.”</p> - -<p>“No, never!” said Dora, finding her voice suddenly. -“I don’t want to go on the stage; I prefer to be as -I am.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you? Well, perhaps you haven’t any voice -in the matter. You are under age, and I am your legal -guardian, and it strikes me that you are going to -do as you are bid, whether it meets with your approval<span class="pagenum">[298]</span> -or not. I’ve made all arrangements with Mr. -Dante, and you are going to appear here—in this -very town—to-morrow night, and are going to be ‘featured’ -on the bill as ‘Miss Vance, the niece of Mrs. -Charles Bonair, of Thetford Towers,’ and you are going, -in that character, to lead the March of the Amazons -and to wear as little as the law allows in the -way of dress.”</p> - -<p>“I will never do it!” said Dora, starting to her -feet, her whole body shaking and her cheeks aflame, -as she thought of the “ladies” she had seen on the -posters. “I don’t know whether you have told the -truth or not about my being the daughter of a gentleman, -but—I will never do a thing like that. I will -run away first.”</p> - -<p>The figure in the chair rose unsteadily, in a froth -of lace and a billow of roseate silk, and laughingly -drained out the last drop from a champagne bottle on -the table and drank it.</p> - -<p>“You won’t get the chance to run away,” she said, -“I shall keep you under my own eye until then. You -will go with me to the theater to-night, and I will put -you under Milt Dante’s care whenever I am obliged -to leave you. As for your appearing on the stage to-morrow -night, you’ll do that if I have to chloroform -you and have you carried on. I’ll pay that woman for<span class="pagenum">[299]</span> -trying to shut me out of Crumplesea, make no mistake -about that. Now, come and help me dress; it’s -time I was off to the theater, and that fool of a Bodwin -will be round here with his carriage presently, -to drive me there.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[300]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A VIXEN.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>What Mr. Milton Dante’s advance agent had predicted -came to pass. Miss Montague-Vance’s triumph -was absolute before the curtain had fallen upon -the first act of “The Beauty of Gotham,” and by the -time the first night’s performance came to an end, all -Crumplesea—all masculine Crumplesea, that is to say—was, -metaphorically, at her feet.</p> - -<p>Whatever she might be off the stage, there was no -gainsaying the fact that on it, hers was an alluring, -lovely personality, and that her beautiful face, and her -soft dovelike eyes seemed created to make men lose -their heads and their hearts, and to become absolutely -insane over her. She could sing, too—not merely -carry a tune and let the orchestra furnish all the music, -as so many of her kind do, but sing intelligently, -sweetly, and with a voice that showed cultivation as -well as the melody which had been put into it by nature—and -as she exerted herself that night as none -of her colleagues had ever known her to do before, it -is scarcely to be wondered that she carried everything -before her, and that the reception accorded to her by<span class="pagenum">[301]</span> -delighted Crumplesea partook of the nature of an -ovation.</p> - -<p>In all the crowd that filled the new opera house -and cheered and shouted over her success, there was -perhaps only one person—Dora—who did not delight -in her triumph.</p> - -<p>Seated in a proscenium box under the watchful eye -and the close guardianship of Mr. Milton Dante, the -girl, dumb with shame, and heartsick with despair, -remained all the evening with her eyes cast down, and -never, even once, looked toward the stage. It was -a relief to her when the thing was over, and she was -out in the cool night air again, driving back to Minorca -Villa, with Mr. Milton Dante on one side of her, Mrs. -Skivers—the wardrobe woman of the company, who -had been told to look after her in future and to share -her room at the villa—on the other, and her mother -on the box with Mr. Bodwin, chattering and laughing -as they drove home through the fragrant sea-scented -darkness.</p> - -<p>It was close to midnight when they came clattering -up to Minorca Villa, to find the landlady—whose -palm had been rubbed with the magic ointment of -gold beforehand—awaiting them and a tempting little -supper on the table.</p> - -<p>“How sweet of you, dear Mrs. Burners,” said the<span class="pagenum">[302]</span> -siren of the evening, as she jumped down and led -the way into the house. “I am positively famished. -Are Miss Dora’s rooms ready? Thank you; she won’t -sit up to-night, I fancy.”</p> - -<p>“No, nor any other night,” supplemented Dora herself, -in a low, firm voice. “I have made up my mind -that I will never do what you wish me to do, and you -may as well know that now as later. Let me go away; -let me go back to Miss Skimmers. I tell you I will -never do that thing, never while there is breath in my -body.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, are you going to begin on that strain again? -Take her up to bed, Mrs. Skivers, and come down after -she’s safely tucked in—and locked in, too, mind—and -chaperon me! One has to make some concession to -that awful British personage, Mrs. Grundy, you know.” -And then with an airy wave of the hand, she passed -into the room where the supper was spread, leaving -Dora to trudge wearily and dejectedly up the stairs, -in company with Mrs. Skivers.</p> - -<p>“A glass of champagne and a cigarette, somebody! -I feel like an eagle that has been shut up for hours -in a cage. Milt, don’t stop to carve that chicken, -when you must know that I’m on fire with impatience -to hear if you have done what I told you?”</p> - -<p>“About sending the wire to Mrs. Bonair, you mean?<span class="pagenum">[303]</span> -Oh, yes, I attended to that, all right. But not exactly -in the manner we first planned it. Hasn’t Mr. -Bodwin told you?”</p> - -<p>“Told me? He’s told me nothing. How could he, -with that stupid girl with us the whole time? What -has been done? What was amiss with the original -scheme?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bodwin didn’t think it would work. He -fancied Mrs. Bonair wouldn’t take any notice of it, -so to make sure, he drove over to the next town, and -as he knows the name of Mrs. Bonair’s lawyer, he -hired a man to go over by trap to Morecome Junction -and wire back this:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘Have missed connection, and am coming down by -hired conveyance. Look for me. Must see you to-night -on a matter of life and death.</p> - -<p class="ir2 pminus1">“‘<span class="smcap">Hazlitt.</span>’</p> -</div> - -<p>“That will keep her up no matter how late the hour -is, and she will see you when you go.”</p> - -<p>“As she wouldn’t, I am convinced, dear Miss Montague, -if you acted on your original plan,” put in Mr. -Bodwin. “I don’t mind telling you that I owe her a -grudge for trying to ruin the opening of the opera -house; and besides, I—I would do anything in the -world for you.”</p> - -<p>“What a dear you are,” she said, with a laugh, and<span class="pagenum">[304]</span> -one of her arch glances. “You shall take me for a -ride to-morrow for that, and I will take care that our -dear, sweet friend never finds out that you had anything -to do with this business. Now another glass -to the success of the venture, Milt, and then away we -go! Show her claws to me, will she, the cat? Look -here! there will be some fur flying to-night, unless I’m -out in my reckoning.”</p> - -<p>The second glass of champagne was poured out and -drained, but—the start was not yet; for just then -Mrs. Skivers reappeared upon the scene with word -that she had seen Dora up to her room and locked her -in, and there had to be a third glass in consequence.</p> - -<p>“Stop here, Mrs. Skivers, and wait for us,” said -Rosalind, when she finally rose and let Mr. Bodwin -again wrap her in the long cloak she had discarded -on entering. “I’m going for a short drive with the -gentlemen. You’ll find plenty to eat and drink, but -mind you, don’t take too much for your own good.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll look out for that,” said Dante, as he slid an -unopened bottle into each pocket of his coat and took -possession of three clean glasses.</p> - -<p>“‘Lead on; I follow thee.’”</p> - -<p>Outside, Mr. Bodwin’s private carriage still stood -waiting. They trooped out and got into it and went -skimming off through the darkness again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[305]</span></p> - -<p>Crumplesea was like a cemetery now, so still and -black and lifeless it was. They scudded through it -and whirled out upon the cliffs, with the sea droning -and curling long zigzag lines of froth far down below -them, and the moonless sky stretching velvet-dark -above.</p> - -<p>For twenty minutes or so they drove along with -the wind in their faces, the blown salt scent of the -sea in their nostrils; then the carriage swung suddenly -round a curve that took it inland, bowled along a quiet -road hedged with brambles and overhung with trees, -and, whirling at length out of this, came full upon -an immense double row of oaks leading up to a building -set in the midst of a sort of park.</p> - -<p>What it was like, this building, the darkness made -it impossible to ascertain with any degree of certainty, -but in the lower windows of it lights were burning -and gave vague glimpses of a long, broad veranda curtained -with flowering vines and of a stone-railed terrace -dotted at regular intervals with urns that were -full of flowers.</p> - -<p>“Here we are; this is Thetford Towers,” said Mr. -Bodwin, in a whisper. But before he could say more, -a flash of nearer light revealed the presence of a lodge—half -lost in a wilderness of vines—and of a man -looming out to open the gates.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[306]</span></p> - -<p>“It’s you at last, sir,” the man said, as he made -everything ready for the vehicle to enter the grounds. -“Mrs. Bonair has been watching for you this long -time, sir. I think you’ll find her in the veranda, sir. -It’s an uncommon hot night, and she is a rare one for -fresh air, as no doubt you know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, she will get something more than ‘fresh -air’ in this case,” said Rosalind, with a soft, low -laugh, as the carriage swept by and bowled up the -broad driveway to the house. “Fancy the old cat living -in such luxury as this and never giving a farthing -piece to me. You wait! I’ll make her pay dear -for it! She shall pour out sacks of money to me before -to-morrow night, or I’ll disgrace her so that -she’ll never show her face in public again. Look, will -you? Look! There’s somebody walking up and down -that terrace, and it’s a woman, I can see her passing -by those lighted windows.”</p> - -<p>“’S-h-h-! it’s Mrs. Bonair herself,” whispered Mr. -Bodwin. “I’ve seen her too many years to be mistaken -in her. My dear, if you wouldn’t mind my stopping -here——”</p> - -<p>“Of course, I don’t. Didn’t I say you shouldn’t be -known in the affair? Stop at once and let me go on -alone. Milt, if there’s another glassful left in that -bottle I’ll take it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[307]</span></p> - -<p>“Better not, Rose; you’ve had enough, I’m thinking.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind what you are ‘thinking,’ I’m the best -judge of what I want. A fresh glassful and a fresh -cigarette, please; I’m going to interview my sister-in-law. -Thank you so much! Here’s health and prosperity -to all of us. And now—for trouble.”</p> - -<p>Speaking, she scrambled down from the vehicle—a -little unsteadily, as both Mr. Bodwin and Mr. Dante -observed—and, cigarette in mouth, ran jauntily up to -the veranda.</p> - -<p>“Good evening, my dear,” she said, as she skipped -airily into the veranda and confronted Mrs. Bonair. -“You needn’t wait any longer for Mr. Hazlitt, because -he hasn’t the slightest knowledge of the wire that was -sent you, and I dare say that he has been in bed and -asleep for hours. Need I introduce myself?”</p> - -<p>Berry turned quickly, and faced her visitor. There -was a brief pause; then she answered with cold, calm, -scornful dignity:</p> - -<p>“No, that is not in the least necessary. But you -may tell me, if you wish, why you presume to come -here.”</p> - -<p>“I have come to either open your precious moneybags -or to make you pay dearly for trying to shut -me out of Crumplesea.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[308]</span></p> - -<p>Berry gave a sort of faint gasp—so low that it was -scarcely audible—then pulled herself together and -tapped on the pane of the nearest window.</p> - -<p>“Thompson,” she said imperatively; “Thompson, -come out here at once and take this creature away.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[309]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A LAST DECISION.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Rosalind’s insolent face went red with wrath.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know who ‘Thompson’ is or whether it’s a -man or a woman,” she said threateningly, “but it will -be a bad night’s business for both of you, if either he or -she tries anything of that sort. I’ve some friends -within call, and if I can’t take care of myself without -them, I’ve only to call, to get all the help I need.”</p> - -<p>Berry looked the unutterable disgust she felt, and -she involuntarily drew back a step from her unwelcome -visitor. Fortunately for all concerned, however, -Thompson—who was one of the under footmen—was -in another part of the house at the time and did -not, therefore, put in an appearance in response to her -ladyship’s request.</p> - -<p>Rosalind waited for a moment in expectation of -hostilities of a more formidable character than the mere -resentment of an indignant gentlewoman, and, finding -that none were likely to come, stuck her cigarette between -her lips again and blew out a long writhing -plume of smoke.</p> - -<p>“I reckon that ‘Thompson’ knows when he’s well<span class="pagenum">[310]</span> -off, and has made himself scarce,” she said with a -laugh and a wave of one very much bejeweled hand. -“And as there’s no way for you to get into the house -unless I choose to step aside and let you, I also reckon -you’ve got to stand and face the music whether you -like it or not. Turn about’s fair play the world over. -You tried to shut me out of Crumplesea, and now I’m -shutting you in—in your own veranda.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want of me, that you have had the -impudence to come here and to play me such a trick -as you have done?” asked Berry, with cool scorn. “No! -don’t come any nearer; keep your distance, please; you -are quite too close for comfort as it is.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! you want to know what I’ve come for, do you? -Well, you shall—and in short order, too! Yes, and -you’ll dance to a more expensive tune than I first -intended for treating me like this. Ten thousand -would have bought me off when first I came, but it’ll -cost you fifty thousand now, I promise you.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a mistake on your part—it won’t cost me a -penny. If you have any idea of blackmailing me because -you are—well, what you are, get that idea out -of your mind at once. That my stepbrother married -a creature who was—and apparently still is—scarcely -a fit associate for one of my scullery maids and that I -disowned him for it, are matters that are known to<span class="pagenum">[311]</span> -every one who knows me, and I should scarcely be -likely to pay you money to keep secret a thing that is -public property.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s the ‘tack’ you’re going on, is it? Well, -suppose I start in telling something that everybody -doesn’t know—not even you yourself—what then? -Look here, my Lady High and Mighty, you snuffed -me out as a wife and widow, but you can’t snuff me out -as a mother—the mother of your brother’s daughter, -a child born in honorable wedlock nearly eighteen years -ago.”</p> - -<p>Save that it grew perhaps the fraction of a shade -paler, Berry’s face changed not one whit.</p> - -<p>She flung away her cigarette and fumbled for a moment -among the folds of her skirt, then her unsteady -hand drew a packet of paper from her pocket, loosened -the bit of string that held it together, and flirted off -two documents from the top.</p> - -<p>“There’s her baptismal certificate, for one, and my -marriage lines, for another,” she said, “and here’s one -of Adrian’s letters to me acknowledging that he knew -there was going to be a child. Solid evidence that, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly; indisputable evidence. But again—quite -unnecessary! Why all this palaver? I really don’t -see what you are driving at. Neither I, nor my husband,<span class="pagenum">[312]</span> -nor any one else, ever doubted your announcement, -years ago. We simply had no interest in the -matter. What is your intention?”</p> - -<p>“Now look here: here’s what is going to happen -to-morrow night, if you don’t buy me off at my own -price, and take that girl off my hands.”</p> - -<p>Speaking, she unfolded the last of the papers she -held, filling the air as she did so with the faint, sickly -smell of fresh printer’s ink, and shook out a still damp -half-sheet poster.</p> - -<p>Berry did not notice it for a moment; she had taken -up the baptismal certificate and the faded letter. But -she turned at last and saw the bill that was held up -for her inspection. And for the first time her face -became really pale.</p> - -<p>“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” said Rosalind, with a little -babble of splenetic mockery. “Your niece is going to -lead the Amazon march, and—in tights! She says she -won’t, but she will, you know; she’ll have to give in—people -always have to do that where I’m concerned. -You’ll do it presently, like all the rest, and I shall -leave this place with your check for fifty thousand -pounds in my pocket or else these bills go up to-morrow -morning, and what’s printed on them will happen -to-morrow night. It doesn’t do to run foul of me, -does it, now?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[313]</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Berry, in a low, level voice; -“and I really don’t think that I care, either. If you -have set your mind upon doing this thing, you must -do it, of course. And now, if you have said all that -you have to say, be good enough to relieve me of your -presence. You cannot extort one copper out of me, -madam, no matter what you propose to do.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[314]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A VAIN THREAT.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>“What!” she said, in a loud, aggressive voice, “you’ll -let this thing go on? You’ll let your brother’s daughter -be put on the stage and made a spectacle of, and you -won’t pay me my price to prevent it?”</p> - -<p>“I will not pay you one penny—no, not even one -farthing—to prevent that or any other piece of blackguardism -you may contemplate committing. The girl -is nothing to me, less than nothing since she is your -daughter. Do what you please with her; it is a matter -of perfect indifference to me, but I warn you that if -you take liberties with my name in the manner you -propose to do, it will be actionable, and I shall instruct -my lawyer to prosecute.”</p> - -<p>For one moment Rosalind stood irresolute, rage -tearing at her like a ravenous wolf and the fumes of the -wine she had drank mounting higher and higher until -her head swam. Then, of a sudden, she lurched away -from the rail of the veranda and leaped forward like -a cat springing at a mouse, her two hands reaching out -and shutting upon Berry’s throat.</p> - -<p>“You’re a pig, you’re a stingy, spiteful, vicious old -pig!” she said, as she shook her with all her strength.<span class="pagenum">[315]</span> -“I’ll make you suffer for this! I will, as I’m a living -woman! Those bills go up in the morning—do you -hear me? and you can send some one to Crumplesea -Opera House to-morrow night, if you think I’m afraid -of your threats of prosecution and won’t disgrace your -name as I said I would. Defy me, will you? You’ll -see what it costs, you’ll see, you’ll see!”</p> - -<p>And here, with one final shake, she pushed from her, -and scudded out of the veranda and ran dizzily down -the path to the waiting vehicle.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bodwin and Mr. Milton Dante, who were anxiously -awaiting her return, saw her the very instant she -appeared.</p> - -<p>“I say! it is really you at last,” said Mr. Dante, as -she came reeling up to the vehicle. “We began to think -you were never coming, and——Hello! what’s up? -You look as though you were in a dickens of a temper. -Has the old girl been using you roughly, and wouldn’t -she pay the price, after all?”</p> - -<p>“She wouldn’t pay any price, even a farthing’s -worth!”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean to say that she intends to let it -go on?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind what I intend to say, I’ll tell you in -time enough. Turn the horse round a bit, the wheel -is in the way of the step and I want to get in. What’s<span class="pagenum">[316]</span> -the matter with you two? Don’t you know how to -manage a horse? You keep the thing prancing about -so much I can’t get on the step.”</p> - -<p>“It—it’s not me, Miss Vance,” declared Mr. Bodwin; -“it’s you; you’re frightening it by rattling that -bell and slipping off the step so often, and it simply -won’t stand still!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! it won’t, eh? Thinks it can play tricks on me -like every one else this evening, does it? I’ll show it—the -beast!”</p> - -<p>Her temper was up now in real earnest.</p> - -<p>She lurched away from the side of the vehicle after -still another futile effort to keep her foothold upon the -step, and by the time the two men divined her intention -she was halfway to the horse’s head.</p> - -<p>“Stop!” screeched out Mr. Milton Dante.</p> - -<p>“Miss Vance, for Heaven’s sake!” began Mr. Bodwin; -but both cries fell upon deaf ears.</p> - -<p>Blind with rage and maddened with drink, she rushed -at the horse’s head, caught at the bridle with one hand, -and with the other struck it full in the face.</p> - -<p>“Defy me, will you, you beast?” she began, and -then—spoke never again!</p> - -<p>The reins that Mr. Bodwin was holding slackened -suddenly and curved in a loop between his knees for -one instant before they drew taut again; the horse<span class="pagenum">[317]</span> -reared in terror, an awful figure in the dark of the -night, over the small slight shape which for two seconds -stood erect in the pathway, then came a -thud of descending hoofs and a little bleat of -agony, and in the winking of an eye men and vehicle -were being whirled off through the darkness by a -runaway horse, and all that was mortal of the woman -whose loveliness had charmed all Crumplesea to-night -lay huddled up in the dust with one arm twisted under -it and its skull crushed in like an eggshell.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the following day, Berry—who had lain awake -all night, wondering what she ought to do, and finally -resolving to find her niece and save her from the disgrace -that threatened her—lost no time in tracing the -unhappy girl.</p> - -<p>To her surprise, she was charmed with her niece, -after only an hour’s talk with Dora. Childless herself, -and loving children dearly, Berry welcomed Dora -to her heart and home; and when Charles returned -from America, he, too, rejoiced in Berry’s happiness.</p> - -<p>Thus Dora found in Berry a mother who deserved -and won her love, and in Charles a kind father, to -take the place of one whom she had never known.</p> - -<p class="center p1">THE END.</p> - -<p>No. 1173 of the <span class="smcap">New Eagle Series</span>, by Charlotte -May Stanley, is entitled “Could He Have Known.”</p> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xxlargefont boldfont">Love Stories</p> - -<p>There is a great deal of difference between -love stories and sex stories. There is something -about <em>love</em> which commands respect and -reverence.</p> - -<p>There is nothing about the sex story which -commands either. Most decent-minded people -are disgusted with the sort of literature -that some publishers are putting out in the -guise of truth.</p> - -<p>If you want to know what a really decent, -clean, wholesome love story is, ask your dealer -to sell you a copy of the <cite>Bertha Clay Library</cite>, -or the <cite>Eagle Library</cite>.</p> - -<p>In these two series, you will find everything -that is necessary in fiction to hold your -interest, and a great deal that is preferable to -the sort of stuff which is being put out under -camouflage by certain publishers who are not -very careful either about the way they make -money or what they publish.</p> - -<p class="center p1"><span class="xlargefont">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</span><br /> -<span class="largefont">79 Seventh Avenue New York City</span> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="boxit1"> -<p class="xxlargefont center boldfont">Only One Best</p> - -<p>The best paper-covered books are -S. & S. NOVELS; consequently they -are imitated.</p> - -<p>When you ask for an S. & S. NOVEL, -be sure that you get an S. & S. NOVEL, -and save yourself disappointment.</p> - -<p>We have 1500 different titles to offer -you, most of them copyrights.</p> - -<p>A complete catalog may be secured -from your dealer or we will send one -free upon request.</p> - -<p class="xlargefont center boldfont">Street & Smith Corporation</p> - -<p class="center boldfont">79 SEVENTH AVENUE</p> - -<p class="center boldfont">NEW YORK CITY</p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<h2 id="TN_end" style="margin-top: 0em">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> - -<p>Punctuation has been made consistent.</p> - -<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors -have been corrected.</p> - -<p>The following changes were made:</p> - -<p><a id="BRef_81" href="#Ref_81">p. 81</a>: he changed to she (and she knew)</p> - -<p><a id="BRef_186" href="#Ref_186">p. 186</a>: mister changed to master (his master was)</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALL FOR LOVE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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