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diff --git a/old/68274-h/68274-h.htm b/old/68274-h/68274-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b348a00..0000000 --- a/old/68274-h/68274-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11291 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - Neva’s Three Lovers, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis—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;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; - padding-top: 0;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} - -.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: 12em; - padding: 1em; - border: 0.5em double black; - margin: 0 auto; } - -.boxit1{ - max-width: 25em; - padding: 1em; - border: 0.5em double black; - margin: 0 auto; } - -.boxcontents{ - max-width: 22em; - 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; -} -/*Indent-padding*/ -.ir1{text-align:right; padding-right:1em} - -.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 .indent10{text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 12em;} -/* 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} -.smallfont{font-size: small} -.cheaderfont{font-size:medium} -.boldfont{font-weight:bold} -/*for drop caps*/ - -p.dropcap { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -p.dropcap:first-letter{ - float: left; - font-size: 2.75em; - padding-right: 0.05em; - margin-top: 0.1em; - margin-bottom: -0.1em; - line-height: 0.65em; -} - -.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter{ - font-size: 1em; - padding-right: 0em; - margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - line-height: 1em; -} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp75 {width: 75%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp75 {width: 100%;} -.illowp25 {width: 25%;} -.illowp47 {width: 47%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp47 {width: 100%;} -.illowp72 {width: 72%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp72 {width: 100%;} - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Neva's three lovers, by Harriet Lewis</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:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Neva's three lovers</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Harriet Lewis</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 9, 2022 [eBook #68274]</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 NEVA'S THREE LOVERS ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp75" style="max-width: 109.625em;"> - <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. The Game Well Begun.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Chapter II. A Decisive Move Commanded.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Chapter III. A Fateful Move Decided Upon.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Chapter IV. A Door Opened to Wickedness.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Chapter V. Settling Into Her Place.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Chapter VI. Her Ladyship’s Accomplice.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Chapter VII. Neva’s First Lover.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Chapter VIII. The Son of the Honorable Craven Black.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Chapter IX. A Knot Summarily Severed.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Chapter X. Neva at Home Again.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Chapter XI. Lady Wynde’s Idea Acted Upon.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Chapter XII. Black Continues His Conspiracy.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Chapter XIII. How Neva Received the Forgeries.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Chapter XIV. The Meeting of Neva and Rufus.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Chapter XV. Mr. Black Gets a New Idea.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Chapter XVI. Rufus Asks the Momentous Question.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Chapter XVII. The Young Wife’s Desolation.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Chapter XVIII. One of Neva’s Lovers Disposed of.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Chapter XIX. Neva’s Choice Foreshadowed.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Chapter XX. Was It a Dream?</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">Chapter XXI. A Scene in India.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">Chapter XXII. Back as From the Dead.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Chapter XXIII. Neva’s Decision About Rufus.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Chapter XXIV. Lally Finds a New Home.</a></p> -<p class="pcontents"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">Chapter XXV. Lally in Her New Situation.</a></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center largefont">SELECT LIBRARY No. 231</p> - -<p class="center xxlargefont pminus1" style="color:#B22222"><span class="smcap">Neva’s Three Lovers</span></p> - -<p class="center pminus1"><em>BY</em></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="xlargefont smcap">Mrs. Harriet Lewis</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp72" 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"> -<div class="figcenter illowp47" style="max-width: 40.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i003.jpg" alt="Title page." /> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1 class="nobreak">Neva’s Three Lovers</h1> -</div> - - -<p class="center xlargefont p2"><em>A NOVEL</em></p> - -<p class="center p2">BY<br /> -<span class="center xlargefont">MRS. HARRIET LEWIS</span></p> - -<p class="center smallfont">AUTHOR OF</p> - -<p class="center" style="margin-bottom:2em">“Adrift in the World,” “The Bailiff’s Scheme,” “The Belle of the<br /> -Season,” “Cecil Rosse,” “The Haunted Husband,” “Sundered<br /> -Hearts,” and numerous other books published in the<br /> -<span class="smcap">Eagle</span>, <span class="smcap">New Eagle</span>, and <span class="smcap">Select</span> Libraries.</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp25" style="max-width: 7.8125em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/publishers_icon.jpg" alt="Publishers icon." /> -</div> - -<p class="center p2" style="line-height:1.75"><span class="largefont">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</span><br /> -PUBLISHERS<br /> -<span class="largefont">79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York</span> -</p> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="boxit"> -<p class="center">Copyright, 1871 and 1892<br /> -By Robert Bonner’s Sons</p> - -<p class="center">Neva’s Three Lovers</p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xxlargefont nobreak" style="margin-bottom:1em" id="CHAPTER_I">NEVA’S THREE LOVERS.</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE GAME WELL BEGUN.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Sir Harold Wynde, Baronet, was standing upon the -pier head at Brighton, looking idly seaward, and watching -the play of the sunset rays on the waters, the tossing -white-capped waves, and the white sails in the -distance against the blue sky.</p> - -<p>He was not yet fifty years of age, tall and handsome -and stately, with fair complexion, fair hair, and keen -blue eyes, which at times beamed with a warm and -genial radiance that seemed to emanate from his soul. -The rare nobility of that soul expressed itself in his features. -His commanding intellect betrayed itself in his -square, massive brows. His grand nature was patent in -every look and smile. He was a widower with two -children, the elder a son, who was a captain in a fine -regiment in India, the younger a daughter still at boarding-school. -He possessed a magnificent estate in Kent, -a house in town, and a marine villa, and rejoiced in a -clear income of seventy thousand pounds a year.</p> - -<p>As might be expected from his rare personal and material -advantages, he was a lion at Brighton, even<span class="pagenum">[10]</span> -though the season was at its height, and peers and peeresses -abounded at that fashionable resort. Titled ladies—to -use a well-worn phrase—“set their caps” for him; -manœuvring mammas smiled upon him; portly papas -with their “quivers full of daughters,” and with groaning -purses, urged him to dine at their houses or hotels; -and widows of every age looked sweetly at him, and -thought how divine it would be to be chosen to reign as -mistress over the baronet’s estate of Hawkhurst.</p> - -<p>But Sir Harold went his ways quietly, seeming oblivious -of the hopes and schemes of these manœuverers. -He had had a good wife, and he had no intention of -marrying again. And so, as he stood carelessly leaning -against the railing on the pier head, under the gay awning, -his thoughts were far away from the gaily dressed -promenaders sauntering down the chain pier or pacing -with slow steps to and fro behind him.</p> - -<p>The sunset glow slowly faded. The long gray English -twilight began to fall slowly upon promenaders, -beach, chain pier, and waters. The music of the band -swallowed up all other sounds, the murmur of waters, -the hum of gay voices, the sweetness of laughter.</p> - -<p>But suddenly, in one of the interludes of the music, -and in the midst of Sir Harold’s reverie, an incident occurred -which was the beginning of a chain of events -destined to change the whole future course of the baronet’s -life, and to exercise no slight degree of influence -upon the lives of others.</p> - -<p>Yet the incident was simple. A little pleasure-boat, -occupied by two ladies and a boatman, had been sailing -leisurely about the pier head for some time. The -boatman, one of the ordinary pleasure boatmen who -make a living at Brighton, as at other maritime resorts, -by letting their crafts and services to chance customers, -had been busy with his sail. One of the ladies, a hired<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> -companion apparently, sat at one side of the boat, with -a parasol on her knee. The other lady, as evidently the -employer, half reclined upon the plush cushions, and an -Indian shawl of vivid scarlet lavishly embroidered with -gold was thrown carelessly about her figure. One cheek -of this lady rested upon her jewelled hand, and her eyes -were fixed with a singular intentness, a peculiar speculativeness, -upon the tall and stalwart figure of Sir -Harold Wynde.</p> - -<p>There was a world of meaning in that long furtive -gaze, and had the baronet been able to read and comprehend -it, the tragical history we are about to narrate -would never have happened. But he, wrapped in his -own thoughts, saw neither the boat nor its occupants.</p> - -<p>The little craft crept in quite near to the pier head—so -near as to be but a few rods distant—when the boatman -shifted his helm to go about and stand upon the -other tack. The small vessel gave a lurch, the wind -blowing freshly; the lady with the Indian shawl started -up, with a shriek; there was an instant of terrible confusion; -and then the sail-boat had capsized, and her late -occupants were struggling in the waters.</p> - -<p>In a moment the promenaders of the chain pier had -thronged upon the pier head. Cries and ejaculations -filled the air. No one could comprehend how the accident -had occurred, but one man who had been watching -the boat averred that the lady with the shawl had deliberately -and purposely capsized it. <em>And this was the actual -fact!</em></p> - -<p>Sir Harold Wynde was startled from the trance-like -musings by the lady’s shriek. He looked down upon the -waters and beheld the result of the catastrophe. The -boat’s sail lay half under water. The boatman had -seized the lady’s companion and was clinging to the upturned -boat. The companion had fainted in his arms,<span class="pagenum">[12]</span> -and he could not loosen his hold upon her unless he -would have her drown before his eyes. The lady, at a -little distance from her companions in peril, tangled in -her mass of scarlet and gold drapery, her hat lost, her -long hair trailing on the waves, seemed drowning.</p> - -<p>Her peril was imminent. No other boats were near, -although one or two were coming up swiftly from a distance.</p> - -<p>The lady threw up her white arms with an anguished -cry. Her glance sought the thronged pier head in wild -appealing. Who, looking at her, would have dreamed -that the disaster was part of a well-contrived plan—a -trap to catch the unwary baronet?</p> - -<p>As she had expected from his well-known chivalrous -character, he fell into the trap. His keen eyes flashed a -rapid glance over beach and waters. The lady was likely -to drown before help could come from the speeding -boats. Sir Harold pulled off his coat and made a dive -into the sea. He was an expert swimmer, and reached -the lady as she was sinking. He caught her in his arms -and struck out for the boat. The lady became a dead -weight, and when he reached the capsized craft her head -lay back on his breast, her long wet tresses of hair coiled -around him like Medusean locks, and her pale face was -like the face of a dead woman.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold clung to the side of the boat opposite that -on which the boatman supported his burden. And thus -he awaited the coming of the boats.</p> - -<p>Among the eager thronging watchers on the pier head -above was a tall, fair-faced man, with a long, waxed -mustache, sinister eyes and a cynical smile. He alone of -the throng seemed unmoved by the tragic incident.</p> - -<p>“It was pretty well done,” he muttered, under his -breath—“a little transparent, perhaps, and a trifle awkward -as well, but pretty well done! The baronet fell<span class="pagenum">[13]</span> -into the trap too, exactly as was hoped. Your campaign -opens finely, my beautiful Octavia. Let us see if the -result is to be what we desire. In short, will the baronet -be as unsuspicious all the way through?”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold certainly was unsuspicious at that moment. -The helpless woman in his arms aroused into activity -all the chivalry of his chivalric nature. He held her -head above the creeping waves until the foremost boat -had reached him. His burden was the first to be lifted -into the rescuing craft; the lady’s companion followed; -the baronet and the boatman climbing into the boat -last, in the order in which they are named.</p> - -<p>The capsized boat was righted and its owner took -possession of her. The rescuing craft transported the -baronet and the two ladies to the beach. The lady companion -had recovered her senses and self-possession, but -the lady employer lay on the cushions pale and motionless.</p> - -<p>On reaching the landing, a cab was found to be in -waiting, having been summoned by some sympathizing -spectator. The companion, uttering protestations of -gratitude, entered the vehicle, and her mistress was assisted -in after her. The former gathered her employer -in her arms, crying out:</p> - -<p>“She is dead! She is dead! I have lost my best -friend—”</p> - -<p>“Not so, madam,” said Sir Harold, in kindly sympathy. -“The lady has only fainted, I think. To what -place shall I tell the cabman to drive?”</p> - -<p>“To the Albion Hotel. Oh, my poor, poor lady! To -die so young! It is terrible!”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold made some soothing response, but being -chilled and wet, did not find it necessary to accompany -to their hotel the heroines of the adventure. He gave -their address to the cabman, watched the cab as it rolled<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> -away, and then breaking loose from the crowd of friends -who gathered around him with anxious interrogatories, -he secured his coat and procured a cab for himself and -proceeded to his own hotel.</p> - -<p>It was not until he had had a comfortable bath, and -was seated in dry attire in his private parlor, that Sir -Harold remembered that he did not know the name of -the lady he had served, or that he had not even seen her -face distinctly.</p> - -<p>“She is as ignorant of my name and identity,” he -thought, “as I am of hers. If the incident could be -kept out of the papers, I need never be troubled with -the thanks of her husband, father, or brother.”</p> - -<p>But the incident was not kept out of the papers. Sir -Harold Wynde, being a lion, had to bear the penalty of -popularity. The next morning’s paper, brought in to -him as he sat at his solitary breakfast, contained a glowing -account of the previous evening’s adventure, under -the flaming head line of “Heroic Action by a Baronet,” -with the sub-lines: “Sir Harold Wynde saves a lady’s -life at the risk of his own. Chivalry not yet dead in our -commonplace England.” And there followed a highly -imaginative description of the lady’s adventure, her -name being as yet unknown, and a warm eulogy upon -Sir Harold’s bravery and presence of mind.</p> - -<p>The baronet’s lip curled as he read impatiently the -fulsome article. He had scarcely finished it when a -waiter entered, bringing in upon a silver tray a large -squarely enveloped letter. It was addressed to Sir Harold -Wynde, was stamped with an unintelligible monogram, -and sealed with a dainty device in pale green -wax. As the baronet’s only lady correspondent was -his daughter at school, and this missive was clearly not -from her, he experienced a slight surprise at its reception.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[15]</span></p> - -<p>The waiter having departed, Sir Harold cut open the -letter with his pocket knife, and glanced over its contents.</p> - -<p>They were written upon the daintiest, thickest vellum -paper unlined, and duly tinted and monogrammed, and -were as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="ir1"><span class="smcap">Albion Hotel</span>, Tuesday Morning.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Sir Harold Wynde</span>: The lady who writes this letter -is the lady whom you so gallantly rescued from a -death by drowning last evening. I have read the accounts -of your daring bravery in the morning’s papers, -and hasten to offer my grateful thanks for your noble -and gallant kindness to an utter stranger. Life has not -been so sweet to me that I cling to it, but yet it is very -horrible to go in one moment from the glow and heartiness -of health and life down to the very gates of death. -It was your hand that drew me back at the moment -when those gates opened to admit me, and again I bless -you—a thousand thousand times, I bless you. Alas, that -I have to write to you myself. I have neither father, -lover, nor husband, to rejoice in the life you have saved. -I am a widow, and alone in the wide world. Will you -not call upon me at my hotel and permit me to thank -you far more effectively in person? I shall be waiting -for your coming in my private parlor at eleven this -morning.</p> - -<p class="ir1 pminus1"><span style="padding-right:5em">“Gratefully yours,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Octavia Hathaway</span>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The baronet read the letter again and again. His -generous soul was touched by its sorrowful tone.</p> - -<p>“A widow and alone in the world!” he thought. -“Poor woman! What sentence could be sadder than -that? She is elderly, I am sure, and has lost all her -children. I do not want to hear her expressions of gratitude, -but if I can make the poor soul happier by calling -on her I will go.”</p> - -<p>Accordingly, at eleven o’clock that morning, attired -in a gentleman’s unexceptionable morning dress, Sir<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> -Harold Wynde, having sent up his card, presented himself -at the door of Mrs. Hathaway’s private parlor at the -Albion Hotel, and knocked for admittance.</p> - -<p>The door was opened to him by the lady’s companion, -who greeted him with effusiveness, and begged him to -be seated.</p> - -<p>She was a tall, angular woman, with sharp features, -whose characteristic expression was one of peculiar hardness -and severity. Her lips were thin, and were usually -compressed. Her eyes were a light gray, furtive and sly, -like a cat’s eyes. Her pointed chin gave a treacherous -cast to her countenance. Her complexion was of a pale, -opaque gray; her hair, of a fawn color, was worn in -three puffs on each side of her face, and her dress was of -a tint to match her hair. Sir Harold conceived an instinctive -aversion to her.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Hathaway?” he said politely, with interrogative -accent.</p> - -<p>“No, I am not Mrs. Hathaway,” was the reply, in a -subdued voice, and the furtive eyes scanned the visitor’s -face. “I am only Mrs. Hathaway’s companion—Mrs. -Artress. Mrs. Hathaway has just received your card. -She will be out directly.”</p> - -<p>The words were scarcely spoken when the door of an -inner room opened, and Mrs. Hathaway made her appearance.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold stood up, bowing.</p> - -<p>The lady was by no means the elderly, melancholy -personage he had expected to see. She was about thirty -years of age, and looked younger. She had a tall, statuesque -figure, well-rounded and inclined to <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">embonpoint</i>. -She carried her head with a certain stateliness. Her hair -was dressed with the inevitable chignon, crimped waves, -and long, floating curl, and despite the monstrosity of -the fashion, it was decidedly and undeniably picturesque.<span class="pagenum">[17]</span> -Her face, with its clear brunette complexion, liquid black -eyes, Grecian nose, low brows, and faultless mouth, was -very handsome. There was a fascination in her manners -that was felt by the baronet even before she had spoken.</p> - -<p>She was not dressed in mourning, and it was probable, -therefore, that her widowhood was not of recent beginning. -She was clothed in an exquisitely embroidered -morning dress of white, which trailed on the floor, and -was relieved with ornaments of pale pink coral, and a -broad coral-colored sash at her waist.</p> - -<p>“<em>This</em> is Mrs. Hathaway, Sir Harold,” said the gray -looking lady’s companion.</p> - -<p>The lady sprang forward after an impulsive fashion, and -clasped the baronet’s hands in both her own. Her black -eyes flooded with tears. And then, in a broken voice, -she thanked her preserver for his gallant conduct on -the previous evening assuring him that her gratitude -would outlast her life. Her protestations and gratitude -were not overdone, and unsuspecting Sir Harold -accepted them as genuine, even while they embarrassed -him.</p> - -<p>He remained an hour, finding Mrs. Hathaway charming -company and thoroughly fascinating. The companion -sat apart, silent, busy with embroidery, a mere gray -shadow; but her presence gave an easy unconstraint to -both the baronet and the lady. When Sir Harold took -his departure, sauntering down to the German Spa, he -carried with him the abiding memory of Mrs. Hathaway’s -handsome brunette face and liquid black eyes, and -thought himself that she was the most charming woman -he had met for years.</p> - -<p>From that day, throughout the season, the baronet was -a frequent visitor at Mrs. Hathaway’s private parlor. -The gray companion was always at hand to play propriety, -and the tongues of gossips, though busy, had no<span class="pagenum">[18]</span> -malevolence in them. Sir Harold had his own horses at -Brighton, and placed one at Mrs. Hathaway’s disposal. -The widow accepted it, procured a bewitching costume -from town, and had daily rides with the baronet. She -also drove with him in his open, low carriage, and bowed -right and left to her acquaintances upon such occasions -with the gracious condescension of a princess. She -sailed with him in his graceful yacht, upon day’s excursions, -her companion always accompanying, and rumor -at length declared that the pair were engaged to be -married.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold heard the reports, and they set him thinking. -The society of Mrs. Hathaway had become necessary -to him. She understood his tastes, studying them -with a flattery so delicate that he was pleased without -understanding it. She read his favorite books, played -his favorite music, and displayed talents of no mean -order. She was fitted to adorn any position, however -high, and Sir Harold thought with a pleasant thrill at his -heart, how royally she would reign over his beautiful -home.</p> - -<p>In short, questioning his own heart, he found that he -had worshiped his dead wife, who would be to him always -young, as when he had buried her—but with the -passion of later manhood, an exacting, jealous yearning -affection, which gives all and demands all. With his -children far from him, his life had been lonely, and he -had known many desolate hours, when he would have -given half his wealth for sympathy and love.</p> - -<p>“I shall find both in Octavia,” he thought, his noble -face brightening. “I shall not wrong my children in -marrying her. My son will be my heir. My daughter’s -fortune will not be imperilled by my second marriage. -Neva is sixteen, and in two years more will come home. -How can I do better for her than to give her a beautiful<span class="pagenum">[19]</span> -mother, young enough to win her confidence, old enough -to be her guide? Octavia would love my girl, and would -be her best chaperon in society, to which Neva must be -by and by introduced. I should find in Octavia then a -mother for my daughter, and a gentle loving wife and -companion for myself. But will she accept me?”</p> - -<p>He put the question to the test that very evening. He -found the handsome widow alone in her parlor, the gray -companion being for once absent, and he told her his -love with a tremulous ardor and passion that it would -have been the glory of a good woman to have evoked from -a nature so grand as Sir Harold’s.</p> - -<p>The fascinating widow blushed and smiled assent, and -her black-tressed head drooped to his shoulder, and Sir -Harold clasped her in his arms as his betrothed wife.</p> - -<p>With a lover’s impetuosity he begged her to marry -him at an early day. She hesitated coyly, as if for -months she had not been striving and praying for this -hour, and then was won to consent to marry him a -month thence.</p> - -<p>“I am alone in the world, and have no one to consult,” -she sighed. “I have an old aunt, a perfect miser, who -lives in Bloomsbury Square, in London. She will permit -me to be married from her house, as I was before. -The marriage will have to be very quiet, for she is averse -to display and expense. However, what she saves will -come to me some day, so I need not complain. I shall -want to keep Artress with me, Sir Harold. I can see -that you don’t like her, but she has been a faithful friend -to me in all my troubles, and I cannot abandon her when -prosperity smiles so splendidly upon me. I may keep -her, may I not?”</p> - -<p>Thus appealed to, Sir Harold smothered his dislike of -the gray companion, and consented that she should -become an inmate of his house.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[20]</span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Hathaway proceeded to explain the causes of her -friendlessness. She was an orphan, and had early married -the Honorable Charles Hathaway, the younger son -of a Viscount, who had died five years before. The -Honorable Charles had been a dissipated spendthrift, and -had left his wife the meagre income of some three hundred -pounds a year. Her elegant clothing was, for the -most part, relics of better days. As to the expensive -style in which she lived, keeping a companion and maid, -no one knew, save herself and one other, how she managed -to support it. Her name and reputation were unblemished, -and the most censorious tongue had nothing -to say against her.</p> - -<p>And yet she was none the less an unscrupulous, -unprincipled adventuress.</p> - -<p>This was the woman, the noble, gallant baronet proposed -to take to his bosom as his wife, to endow with -his name and wealth, to make the mother and guide of -his pure young daughter. Would the sacrifice of the -generous, unsuspected lover be permitted?</p> - -<p>It <em>was</em> permitted. A month later their modest bridal -train swept beneath the portals of St. George’s Church, -Hanover Square. The bride, radiant in pearl-colored -moire, with point lace overdress, wore a magnificent parure -of diamonds, presented to her by Sir Harold. The -baronet looked the picture of happiness. The miserly -aunt of Mrs. Hathaway, a skinny old lady in a low-necked -and short-sleeved dress of pink silk, that, by its -unsuitability, made her seem absolutely hideous, attended -by a male friend, who gave away the bride, was -prominent among the group that surrounded the altar.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold’s son and heir was in India, and his daughter -had not been summoned from her boarding-school in -Paris. The baronet’s tender father soul yearned for his -daughter’s presence at his second marriage; but Lady<span class="pagenum">[21]</span> -Wynde had urged that Neva’s studies should not be interrupted, -and had begged, as a personal favor, that her -meeting with her young step-daughter might be delayed -until her ladyship had become used to her new position. -She professed to be timid and shrinking in regard to the -meeting with Neva, and Sir Harold, in his passionate -love for Octavia, put aside his own wishes, yielding to -her request. But he had written to his daughter, announcing -his intended second marriage, and had received -in reply a tender, loving letter full of earnest prayers for -his happiness, and expressing the kindest feelings toward -the expected step-mother.</p> - -<p>The words were spoken that made the strangely -assorted pair one flesh. As the bride arose from her -knees the wife of a wealthy baronet, the wearer of a -title, the handsome face was lighted by a triumphant -glow, her black eyes emitted a singular, exultant gleam, -and a conscious triumph pervaded her manner.</p> - -<p>She had played the first part of a daring game—and -she had won!</p> - -<p>As she passed into the vestry to sign the marriage register, -leaning proudly upon the arm of her newly made -husband, and followed by her few attending personal -friends, a man who had witnessed the ceremony from -behind a clustered pillar in the church, stole out into the -square, his face lighted by a lurid smile, his eyes emitting -the same peculiar, exultant gleam as the bride’s had -done.</p> - -<p>This man was the tall, fair-haired gentleman, with -waxed mustaches, sinister eyes and cynical smile, who, -nearly three months before, had witnessed from the pier -head at Brighton the rescue of Mrs. Hathaway from the -sea by Sir Harold Wynde. And now this man muttered:</p> - -<p>“The game prospers. Octavia is Lady Wynde. The<span class="pagenum">[22]</span> -first act is played. The next act requires more time, -deliberation, caution. Every move must be considered -carefully. We are bound to win the entire game.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A DECISIVE MOVE COMMANDED.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Sir Harold and Lady Wynde ate their wedding breakfast -in Bloomsbury Square, at the house of Lady -Wynde’s miserly aunt, Mrs. Hyde. A few of the baronet’s -choice friends were present. The absence of Sir -Harold’s daughter was not especially remarked save by -the father, who longed with an anxious longing to see -her face smiling upon him, and to hear her young voice -whispering congratulations upon his second marriage. -Neva had been especially near and dear to him. Her -mother had died in her babyhood, and he had been both -father and mother to his girl. He had early sent his -son to school, but Neva he had kept with him until, a -year before, his first wife’s relatives had urged him to -send her to a “finishing school” at Paris, and he had -reluctantly yielded. Not even his passionate love for -his bride could overcome or lessen the fatherly love and -tenderness of years.</p> - -<p>Immediately after the breakfast the newly married -pair proceeded to Canterbury by special train. The gray -companion and Lady Wynde’s maid traveled in another -compartment of the same coach. The Hawkhurst carriage -was in waiting for the bridal pair at the station. -Sir Harold assisted his wife into it, addressed a few -kindly words to the old coachman on the box, and<span class="pagenum">[23]</span> -entered the vehicle. The gray companion and the maid -entered a dog-cart, also in waiting. Hawkhurst was -several miles distant, but the country between it and -Canterbury was a charming one, and Lady Wynde found -sufficient enjoyment in looking at the handsome seats, -the trim hedges, and thrifty hop-gardens, and in wondering -if Hawkhurst would realize her expectations. -She found indeed more enjoyment in her own speculations -than in the society of her husband.</p> - -<p>About five o’clock of the afternoon, the bridal pair -came in sight of the ancestral home of the Wynde’s. -The top of the low barouche was lowered and Sir -Harold pointed out her future home to his bride with -pardonable pride, and she surveyed it with eager eyes.</p> - -<p>It was, as we have said, a magnificent estate, divided -into numerous farms of goodly size. The home grounds -of Hawkhurst proper, including the fields, pastures, -meadows, parks, woods, plantations and gardens, comprised -about four hundred acres. The mansion stood -upon a ridge of ground some half a mile wide, and was -seen from several points at a distance of three or four -miles. It was a grand old building of gray stone, with -a long facade, and was three stories in height. Its turrets -and chimneys were noted for their picturesqueness. -Its carved stone porches, its quaint wide windows, its -steep roof, from which pert dormer-windows, saucily -projected, were remarkable for their beauty or oddity. -Despite its age, and its air of grandeur and stateliness, -there was a home-like look about the great mansion -that Lady Wynde did not fail to perceive at the first -glance.</p> - -<p>The house was flanked on either side by glass pineries, -grape houses, hothouses, greenhouses and similar buildings. -Further to the left of the dwelling, beyond the -sunny gardens, was the great park, intersected with<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> -walks and drives, having a lake somewhere in the -umbrageous depths, and herds of fallow-deer browsing -on its herbage. In the rear of the house, built in the -form of a quadrangle, of gray stone, were the handsome -stables and offices of various descriptions. The mansion -with its dependencies covered a great deal of -ground, and presented an imposing appearance.</p> - -<p>The house was approached by a shaded drive a half -mile or more in length, which traversed a smooth green -lawn dotted here and there with trees. A pair of bronze -gates, protected and attended by a picturesque gray -stone lodge, gave ingress to the grounds.</p> - -<p>These gates swung open at the approach of Sir Harold -Wynde and his bride, and the gate-keeper and his -family came out bowing and smiling, to welcome home -the future lady of Hawkhurst. Lady Wynde returned -their greetings with graceful condescension, and then, -as the carriage entered the drive, she fixed her eager -eyes upon the long gray facade of the mansion, and -said:</p> - -<p>“It is beautiful—magnificent! You never did justice -to its grandeurs, Harold, in describing Hawkhurst. It -is strange that a house so large, and of such architectural -pretension, should have such a bright and sunny -appearance. The sunlight must flood every room in -that glorious front. I should like to live all my days at -Hawkhurst!”</p> - -<p>“Your dower house will be as pleasant a home as this -although not so pretentious,” said Sir Harold, smiling -gravely. “It is probable that you being twenty years -my junior, will survive me, Octavia, and therefore I have -settled upon you for your life use in your possible -widowhood one of my prettiest places, and one which -has served for many generations as the residence of the -dowager widows of our family.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p> - -<p>The glow on Lady Wynde’s face faded a little, and -her lips slightly compressed themselves, as they were -wont to do when she was ill pleased.</p> - -<p>“I have never asked you about your property, Harold,” -she remarked, “but your wife need be restrained -from doing so by no sense of delicacy. I suppose your -property is entailed?”</p> - -<p>“Hawkhurst is entailed, but it will fall to the female -line in case of the dying out of heirs male,” replied the -baronet, not marking his bride’s scarcely suppressed -eagerness. “It has belonged to our family from time -immemorial, and was a royal grant to one of our ancestors -who saved his monarch’s life at risk of his own. -Thus, at my death, Hawkhurst will go, with the title, -to my son. If George should die, without issue, Hawkhurst—without -the title, which is a separate affair—will -go to my daughter.”</p> - -<p>“A weighty inheritance for a girl,” remarked Lady -Wynde. “And—and if she should die without issue?”</p> - -<p>“The estate would go to distant cousins of mine.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde started. This was evidently an unexpected -reply, and she could not repress her looks of disappointment.</p> - -<p>“I—I should think your wife would come before your -cousins,” she murmured.</p> - -<p>“How little you know about law, Octavia,” said the -baronet, with a grave, gentle smile. “The property -must go to those of our blood. If our union is blessed -with children, the eldest of them would inherit Hawkhurst -before my cousins. But although the law has proclaimed -us one flesh, yet it does not allow you to become -the heir of my entailed property. It is singular even -that a daughter is permitted to inherit before male -cousins, but there was a clause in the royal deed of gift -of Hawkhurst to my ancestors that gave the property<span class="pagenum">[26]</span> -to females in the direct line, in default of male heirs, but -there has never been a female proprietor of the estate. -I hope there never may be. I should hate to have the -old name die out of the old place. But here we are at -the house. Welcome home, my beautiful wife!”</p> - -<p>The carriage stopped in the porch, and Sir Harold -alighted and assisted out his bride. He drew her arm -through his and led her up the lofty flight of stone steps, -and in at the arched and open door-way. The servants -were assembled to welcome home their lady, and the -baronet uttered the necessary words of introduction and -conducted his bride to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>This was an immensely long apartment, with nine -wide windows on its eastern side looking out upon gardens -and park. Sculptured arches, supported by slender -columns of alabaster, relieved the long vista, and curtains -depending from them were capable of dividing the -grand room into three handsome ones. The drawing-room -was furnished in modern style, and was all gayety, -brightness and beauty. The furniture, of daintiest -satin-wood, was upholstered in pale blue silk. The carpet, -of softest gray hue, was bordered with blue.</p> - -<p>“It is very lovely,” commented the bride. “And that -is a conservatory at the end? I shall be very happy -here, Harold.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so,” was the earnest response. “But let me -take you up to your own rooms, Octavia. They have -been newly furnished for your occupancy.”</p> - -<p>He gave her his arm and conducted her out into the -wide hall, with its tesselated floor, up the wide marble -staircase, to a suit of rooms directly over the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>This suit comprised sitting-room, bedroom, dressing-room -and bath-room. Their upholstery was of a vivid -crimson hue. A faultless taste had guided the selection<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> -of the various adornments, and Lady Wynde’s eyes kindled -with appreciation as she marked the costliness and -beauty of everything around her.</p> - -<p>“Your trunks have arrived in the wagon, Octavia,” -said her husband, well pleased with her commendations. -“Mrs. Artress and your maid, who came on in the dog-cart, -have also arrived. Dinner has been ordered at -seven. I will leave you to dress. And, by the way, -should you have need of me, my dressing-room adjoins -your own.”</p> - -<p>He went out. Lady Wynde rang for her maid and -her gray companion, and dressed for dinner. When her -toilet was made, the baronet’s bride dismissed her maid -and came out into her warm-hued sitting room, where -Mrs. Artress sat by a window looking out into the leafy -shadows of the park.</p> - -<p>“Well?” said the beauty interrogatively. “What do -you think? Have I not been successful?”</p> - -<p>“So far, yes,” said the grim, ashen-faced companion, -raising her light, hay-colored eyes in a meaning expression. -“But the end is not yet. The game, you know, -is only fairly begun.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” said the bride thoughtfully. “But it -is well begun. But hush, Artress. Here comes my happy -bridegroom!”</p> - -<p>There was a mocking smile on her lips as she bade -Sir Harold enter. The wedded pair had a few minutes’ -conversation in the sitting-room, her ladyship’s companion -sitting in the deep window seat mute as a shadow, -and they then descended to the drawing-room. Mrs. -Artress meekly followed. She remained near Lady -Wynde, in attendance upon her until after dinner, and -then went up to her own room, which was in convenient -proximity to the apartments of Lady Wynde.</p> - -<p>The bride and bridegroom were left to themselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[28]</span></p> - -<p>The former played a little upon the grand piano, and -then approached her husband, sitting down beside him -upon the same sofa. His noble face beamed love upon -her. But her countenance grew hard with speculative -thoughts.</p> - -<p>“Let me see,” said she, speaking with well-assumed -lightness. “What were we talking about when we arrived, -Harold? Oh, about your property! So, this -dear old Hawkhurst will belong to George? And what -will Neva have?”</p> - -<p>“Her mother’s fortune, and several estates which are -not entailed. Neva will be a very rich woman without -Hawkhurst. You also, Octavia, will be handsomely provided -for, without detriment to my children.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, of course,” said Lady Wynde. “But if the -estates are not entailed which you intend to give to -Neva, you must leave them to her by will. Have—have -you made your will?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but since I have contracted a new marriage, I -shall have to make a new will. I shall attend to that at -my leisure.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde became thoughtful, but did not press the -subject. She excused her questionings on the plea of -interest in her husband’s children, and Sir Harold gave -no thought to them.</p> - -<p>The days went by; the weeks and months followed. -Neva Wynde had not been summoned home, her step-mother -finding plenty of excuses for deferring the return -of her step-daughter. Perhaps she feared that a -pair of keen young eyes, unvailed by glamor, would -see how morally hideous she was—how base and scheming, -and unworthy of her husband.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold’s infatuation with his wife deepened as the -time wore on. His love for her became a species of -worship. All that she did was good in his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[29]</span></p> - -<p>Lady Wynde went into society, visited the first county -families, and received them at Hawkhurst. She gave a -ball, dancing and dinner parties, “tea-fights,” and fetes -champetres, without number. She promoted festivities -of every sort, and became one of the most popular ladies -in the county. She was a leader of fashion too, and -withal was so gracious, so circumspect, so full of delicate -flattery to every one, that even venomous tongued gossip -had naught but good to say of her. Her position at -Hawkhurst was thus firmly established, and she might -be called a happy woman.</p> - -<p>As the months went on, an air of expectancy began to -be apparent in her manner. The gray companion shared -it, moving with a suppressed eagerness and nervousness, -as if waiting for something. And that which she waited -for came at last.</p> - -<p>It was one February evening, more than a year after -the bride’s coming home to Hawkhurst. Outside the -night was wild. Within Lady Wynde’s dressing-room -the fire glowed behind its silvered bars, and its rays -danced in bright gleams upon the crimson furniture. -The lamps burned with mellow radiance. In the centre -of the room stood the lady of Hawkhurst. She had dismissed -her maid, and was surveying her reflection in a -full-length mirror with a complacent smile.</p> - -<p>She was attired in a long robe of crimson silk, and -wore her ruby ornaments. Her neck and arms were bare. -Her liquid black eyes were full of light; her face was -aglow.</p> - -<p>In the midst of her self-admiration, her gray companion -entered abruptly, bearing in her hand a letter. Lady -Wynde turned toward her with a startled look.</p> - -<p>“What have you there, Artress?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“A letter addressed to me,” was the reply. “I have -read it. I have a question to ask you, Octavia, before<span class="pagenum">[30]</span> -I show the letter to you. Sir Harold Wynde adores -you. He loads you with gifts. He lays his heart under -your feet. You are his world, his life, his very soul. -And now I want to ask you—do you love him?”</p> - -<p>The ashen eyes shot a piercing glance into the handsome -brunette face, but the black eyes met hers boldly -and the full lips curled in a contemptuous smile.</p> - -<p>“Love him?” repeated Lady Wynde. “You know I -do not. Love him? You know that I love another even -as Sir Harold loves me! Love him? Bah!”</p> - -<p>The gray woman smiled a strange mirthless smile.</p> - -<p>“It is well,” she said. “Now read the letter. The -message has come at last!”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde seized the letter eagerly. It contained -only these words, without date or signature:</p> - -<p>“<em>The time has come to get rid of him!</em> Now!”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A FATEFUL MOVE DECIDED UPON.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Notwithstanding that the sinister message, contained -in the single line of the mysterious missive brought to -Lady Wynde by her gray companion, had been long expected, -it brought with it none the less a shock when it -came.</p> - -<p>The paper fluttered slowly from the unloosed fingers -of the baronet’s wife to the floor, and into the liquid -black eyes stole a look half of horror and half of eagerness. -Unconsciously her voice repeated the words of -the message, in a hoarse whisper:</p> - -<p>“<em>It is time to get rid of him.</em> Now!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[31]</span></p> - -<p>Lady Wynde shuddered at the sound of her own voice, -and she stared at her gray companion, her eyes full of -shrinking and terror. Those ashen orbs returned her -stare with one that was bold, evil, and encouraging.</p> - -<p>“I—I haven’t the courage I thought, Artress,” faltered -her ladyship. “It is a terrible thing to do!”</p> - -<p>“You love Sir Harold, after all?” taunted the companion, -as she picked up the sinister slip of paper and -burned it.</p> - -<p>“No, no, but he trusts me; he loves me. There was -a time, Artress, when I could not have harmed a dog that -licked my hand or fawned upon me. And now—but I -am not so bad as you think. I am base, unscrupulous, -manœuvring, I know. My marriage was but part of a -wicked plan, the fruit of a conspiracy against Sir Harold -Wynde, but I shrink from the crowning evil we have -planned. To play the viper and sting the hand that has -warmed me—to wound to the core the heart that beats so -fondly and proudly for me—to—to cut short the noble, -beneficent, happy life of Sir Harold—oh, I cannot! I -cannot!”</p> - -<p>Her ladyship swept forward impetuously toward the -hearth and knelt down before a quaint crimson-cushioned -chair, crossing her arms upon it, and laying her head on -her bare white arms. The firelight played upon the -ruddy waves of her long robe, upon the gems at her -throat and wrists, upon her picturesquely dishevelled -hair, and upon her stormy, handsome face. She stared -into the fire with her great black terrified eyes, as if -seeking in those dancing flames some mystic meaning.</p> - -<p>Her gray companion flitted across the floor to her -side like an evil shadow.</p> - -<p>“How very tragic you are, my lady,” she said, with a -sneer. “It almost seems as if you were doing a scene -out of a melodrama. No one can force you to any step<span class="pagenum">[32]</span> -against your will. You can do whatever you please. -Sir Harold dotes upon you, and you can continue his -seemingly affectionate wife, can receive his caresses, can -preside over his household, and can soothe his declining -years. He is not yet fifty-eight years old, vigorous and -healthy, and, as he comes of a long-lived race, he will -live to be ninety, I doubt not. You will, should you survive -him, then be seventy. You can play the tender -step-mother to his children. His daughter is sure to -dislike you, and she may cause her father to distrust -you. All this will no doubt be pleasant to you—”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush!” breathed Lady Wynde, with a tempestuous -look in her eyes. “Let me alone, Artress. You -always stir up the demon within me. Forty years of a -dull, staid, respectable existence, when I might be a -queen of society in London, might be married to one I -have loved for years! Forty years! Why, one year seems -to me an eternity. It seems a lifetime since I was married -to Sir Harold. I—I will act upon the letter.”</p> - -<p>The gray companion smiled.</p> - -<p>“I was sure you would,” she said.</p> - -<p>“But Sir Harold has not made a new will since our -marriage,” urged Lady Wynde. “By our marriage -settlements, I am to have the use of the dower house, -Wynde Heights, during my lifetime, and a life income -of four thousand pounds a year. At my death, both -house and income revert to the family of Wynde. I -have nothing absolutely my own, nothing left to me by -will to do with as I please. Craven expected that I -would have the dowry of a princess, I suppose, out of -Sir Harold’s splendid property.”</p> - -<p>“It is not too late to acquire it,” said the companion, -significantly. “Sir Harold is clay in your hands. You -can mould him to any shape you will. He has no child -here to counteract your influence. He has money and<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> -estates which he intends to leave by will to his daughter -Neva. If you are clever, you can divert into your own -coffers all of Miss Wynde’s property that is not settled -upon her already from her mother’s estate. It will do -no harm to delay acting upon the message for a day or -two, since something of so much importance remains to -be transacted.”</p> - -<p>“I am thankful for even a day’s respite,” murmured -Lady Wynde. “I have been eager to receive the message, -intending to act upon it promptly. But I am not -all bad, Artress, and I shrink from the consummation -of our plans. If Sir Harold would only die naturally! -If something would only occur to remove him from my -path!”</p> - -<p>She breathed heavily as she arose, shook out the folds -of her dress, and moved toward the door.</p> - -<p>“The phial I had when we came here I found was -broken yesterday,” said Artress. “I shall have to go up -to London to-morrow for more of that fluid, so that -there must be a day’s delay in any case. We must be -very cautious, for people will wonder at the sudden -death of one so hale and strong, and should suspicion -arise, it must find no foundation to build upon.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde nodded assent, and opened the door and -went out with a weary step. She descended the broad -staircase, crossed the great hall, and entered the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold was seated near the fire, in a thoughtful -reverie, but arose at her entrance with a beaming face -and a tender smile.</p> - -<p>“It’s a wild night, Octavia,” he said. “Come forward -to the fire my darling. How pale you are! And you -are shivering with the cold.”</p> - -<p>He gently forced her into the easy-chair he had vacated,<span class="pagenum">[34]</span> -bent over her with lover-like devotion, patting her -head softly with his hand.</p> - -<p>“You look unhappy, dear,” resumed the baronet, after -a pause. “Is there anything you want—a ball, jewels, a -trip to the Continent? You know my purse is yours, -and I am ready to go where you may wish to lead.”</p> - -<p>“You are very good!” said Lady Wynde, her black -eyes fixed in a gaze upon the fire, and again she shivered. -“I—I am not worthy of all your kindness, Harold. Hark! -There is the dinner-bell. Thank fortune for the interruption, -for I believe I was growing really sentimental!”</p> - -<p>She forced a laugh as she arose and took her husband’s -arm, and was conducted to the dining-room, but -there was something in her laughter that jarred upon -Sir Harold, although the unpleasant impression it produced -upon him was evanescent.</p> - -<p>At the dinner Lady Wynde was herself again, bright -and fascinating, only now and then, in some pause of -the conversation, there came again into her eyes that -horrified stare which they had worn up stairs, and which -testified how her soul shrank from the awful crime she -contemplated.</p> - -<p>After dinner the pair returned to the drawing-room. -Sir Harold drew a sofa toward the corner of the hearth -and sat down upon it, calling his wife to him. She -obeyed, taking a seat beside him. Her face was all -brightness at this moment, and Sir Harold forgot his late -anxieties about her.</p> - -<p>“I believe I am the happiest man in the world, Octavia,” -he said thoughtfully, caressing one of her jewelled -hands he had lifted from her knee, “but my cup of joy -lacks a drop or two of sweetness still. You are all the -world to me, my wife, and yet I want something more.”</p> - -<p>“What is it you want, Harold?”</p> - -<p>“I have been thinking about my children,” said the<span class="pagenum">[35]</span> -baronet. “It is over a month since I heard from George, -and he does not intend to leave India this year, although -I have urged him to sell his commission and come home. -The boy has a passion for a military life, and he went -out to India against my better judgment. I cannot have -George home again this year, but there is Neva near -me. I long to see her, Octavia.”</p> - -<p>“You are the most devoted of fathers,” laughed Lady -Wynde. “We have been married but little over a year, -and yet you have made two trips alone to Paris to see -Neva. She must be a very paragon of daughters to -cause her father to forget his bride.”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold’s fair cheeks flushed a little.</p> - -<p>“You forget,” he said, “that Neva was my especial -charge from the hour of her mother’s death till I sent -her to that Paris school. My love for you, Octavia, cannot -lessen my love for her. I begin to think that I have -done wrong in not bringing you two together before. I -had a most pathetic letter from Neva before the holidays, -begging to be allowed to come home, but at your -request, Octavia, I denied her natural entreaty and compelled -her to remain at her school. Even Madame <a id="Ref_35" href="#BRef_35">Da-Caret</a>, -the head of the establishment, thought it singular -that Miss Wynde should, alone of all the English pupils, -spend her holidays at the deserted institution. And now -to-day I received a letter from Neva asking if she was to -come home for the Easter holidays. I am afraid I have -not rightly treated my motherless child, Octavia. She -has never seen you; never been at home since you became -mistress here. I fear that the poor child will -think her exile due to your influence, to speak frankly, -dear, and that she will regard you with dislike and bitterness, -instead of the trust and confidence I want her to -feel in you. You are both so dear to me that I shall be -unhappy if you do not love each other.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[36]</span></p> - -<p>“There is time enough to form the acquaintance after -Neva leaves school,” said Lady Wynde. “She is but a -child yet.”</p> - -<p>“She is seventeen years old, Octavia. I have decided -to have her home at Easter, and I hope you will take -some pains to win her trust and affection. She will meet -you half-way, dear.”</p> - -<p>“I am not fond of bread-and-butter school-girls,” said -Lady Wynde, half frowning. “The neighborhood will -be agape to see how I play the role of step-mother. -And, to own the truth, Harold, I have no fancy to be -called mother by a tall, overgrown girl, with her hair hanging -down her back in two braids, and her dresses reaching -to her ankles. I shall feel as old as Methuselah.”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold sighed, and a grave shadow settled down -upon his square massive brows.</p> - -<p>“I hope that Neva will win her way to your heart, -Octavia,” he remarked gently. “I thought it would look -better if my daughter were to call her father’s wife by the -endearing name of mother, but teach her to call you -what you will. I have faith in your goodness of heart, -my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I am a little jealous of her,” returned Lady -Wynde, with a forced smile. “You fairly idolize her—”</p> - -<p>“Have I not made her second to you?” interposed the -baronet. “Has she not been banished from her home to -please you since you entered it? When I think of her -dull, dreary holidays in her school—holidays! the name -was a mockery—my soul yearns for my child. Jealous -of her, Octavia? What further proofs do you need that I -prefer my wife in all things above my child?”</p> - -<p>“Why,” said Lady Wynde tremulously, a hectic flush -burning on either cheek, “look at the magnificent fortune -she will have! While, if you should die I have<span class="pagenum">[37]</span> -only the pitiful income of four thousand pounds a year.”</p> - -<p>“Pitiful, Octavia!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it <em>is</em> pitiful, compared to Neva’s. You have estates -which you can convey away absolutely by will. -Why should you not make me independently rich, with -property that I can sell if I choose? What you leave to -me is to be mine <em>for life</em>. What you leave to Neva is -hers absolutely. This is monstrous, hateful, unjust!”</p> - -<p>The baronet regarded his wife in amazement.</p> - -<p>“You were satisfied with your marriage settlements -when they were drawn up, Octavia,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I was not satisfied even then, but I had no male relatives -to speak to you about the matter, and it would -have been indelicate for me to have said what I thought. -But I hoped you would make things right in a will, as -you can easily do. It is <em>not</em> right that such a distinction -should be made between a daughter and a wife!”</p> - -<p>“I am surprised at you, Octavia,” declared the baronet. -“Neva inherits her mother’s fortune with something -from me, but I cannot undertake to alter my intentions -in regard to her. The provisions that were made for my -mother are the same as those that have been made for -you, and she found them ample. I can promise you -nothing more; but, Octavia,” and he smiled faintly, “I -have no intention of dying soon, and while I live your -income need not to be limited to any certain sum. Let -no jealousy of my Neva warp your noble nature, Octavia. -I shall love you all the better if you love her.”</p> - -<p>“Then you decline to make a new will, with further -provision for me?” demanded the wife, her eyes downcast, -the hectic spot burning fiercely on both cheeks.</p> - -<p>“You surprise me, Octavia. Why are you so persistent -about a subject of which I never dreamed you even -thought? I <em>do</em> decline to make further provision for you, -but not because I do not love and appreciate you, for I<span class="pagenum">[38]</span> -do both. So long as there is no issue to our marriage, -the sum settled on you is ample for your own wants. If -Providence sends us children, they will be provided for -separately. We will let the discussion end here, Octavia, -with the understanding that Neva will spend her -Easter at Hawkhurst.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde compressed her lips and looked sullen, -but, as Sir Harold suggested, the discussion was -dropped. The baronet was troubled, and disappointed in -the wife he had believed faultless. The first shadow of -their married life, the first suspicion of distrust of Lady -Wynde in her husband’s mind had come at last, and they -were hard to bear. Lady Wynde went to the piano and -executed a dashing fantasia, all storm and violence, expressive -of her mental condition. Sir Harold moved -back from the fire and took up a book, but his grave, -saddened face, his steady, intent gaze, and anxious -mouth, showed that he was not reading, and that his -thoughts were sorrowful.</p> - -<p>When Lady Wynde had become tired of music, she -went up to her rooms without a word to her husband. -She entered her sitting-room, made beautiful by her husband’s -taste, and going to the fire, knelt down before it -on the hearth-rug. Artress and her maid were neither -of them to be seen, and the baronet’s wife communed in -solitude with her own deformed soul.</p> - -<p>The winds tore through the trees in the park and on -the lawn with a melancholy soughing, and the sound -came to the ears of the kneeling woman. Her room was -warm and bright with firelight, lamplight, and the glowing -hue of crimson furniture. Every luxury was gathered -within those walls dedicated to her use. Silken -couches and fauteuils, portfolios of choice engravings, -rare bronzes on the low marble mantel-piece, exquisite -statuettes on carved brackets, albums of scenes in every<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> -hand done in water-colors, a beautiful cottage piano, and -a hundred other articles made the room a very temple of -comfort and beauty, yet in the spot where only loving -thoughts of her husband should have had place she -dared to harbor thoughts of crime! And that crime the -most hideous that can be named—the crime of <em>murder</em>!</p> - -<p>While she was kneeling there, the gray companion -stole in softly and silently.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde slowly turned her head, recognized the -intruder, and stared again with wide eyes into the -flames.</p> - -<p>“You look like a tragedy queen,” said Artress, with a -soft laugh like the gurgling of waters. “You look as if -you cast away all your scruples, and were ready to carry -out the game.”</p> - -<p>“I am,” said Lady Wynde, in a hard, suppressed -voice.</p> - -<p>“I thought you would come to it. Will Sir Harold -make a new will?”</p> - -<p>“No; he absolutely refuses.”</p> - -<p>“Well, four thousand pounds a year need not be despised. -And perhaps,” added Artress significantly, “we -can make the sum larger. Am I to go to town to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, by the morning train. Go to Craven, and tell -him the phial he gave you is broken and the contents -spilled, and ask him for more of the—the preparation. -I will find occasion to administer it. I have worked -myself up to the necessary point, and would not scruple -at any crime so long as I need not fear discovery. You -will be back before dinner,” added Lady Wynde, her -brunette complexion turning as gray as that of her companion, -“and to-morrow night at this time I shall be a -widow!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[40]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A DOOR OPENED TO WICKEDNESS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Soon after daybreak, upon the morning following the -occurrence of the incidents related in the preceding -chapter, Lady Wynde’s gray companion departed from -Hawkhurst for Canterbury in a dog-cart which, with its -driver, the baronet’s wife had ordered to be always at -Artress’ disposal. She took the early train up to London, -her business a secret between her mistress and herself.</p> - -<p>At the usual breakfast hour, eight o’clock, Lady -Wynde descended to the breakfast room. Sir Harold -was already there, and greeted her with his usual tender -smile, although he looked somewhat careworn. Their -greetings were scarcely over, and the couple had taken -their places at the table, when the butler appeared, -bringing in the morning mail bag.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold produced his key and unlocked it. There -were a few newspapers for himself, some packets of silk -samples, and a letter from Madame Elise, her dressmaker, -for Lady Wynde. There were two letters for -the baronet, one quite unimportant, which he tossed -aside. The other bore the Indian post-mark.</p> - -<p>“A letter from George,” said Sir Harold, his eyes -brightening. “No, it’s not from George. The address -is not in his hand. Who can have written to me in his -stead?”</p> - -<p>He tore open the letter hastily, his countenance falling.</p> - -<p>His first glance was at the date; his second at the -signature. An exclamation broke from his lips as he<span class="pagenum">[41]</span> -read aloud the name appended to the letter: “Cooper -Graham, Regimental Surgeon.”</p> - -<p>“What can this mean?” he exclaimed, in sudden agitation. -“Can George be ill? Octavia, read the letter -to me. The words seem all blurred.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde took the letter, reading it aloud.</p> - -<p>It was long, too long to transcribe here, and its import -was terrible to the baronet. It opened with the -announcement that the writer was the surgeon of Captain -Wynde’s regiment, and that Captain Wynde was a -patient under his care. It went on to say that Captain -Wynde was the victim of a terrible and incurable disease -under which he had been suffering for months, and -the surgeon had learned that the poor young man had -not written home to his friends the fact of his peril. -His disease was a cancer, which was preying upon his -vitals. Captain Wynde had been relieved of his regimental -duties, and sent up into the hill country, where -he now was. The young man’s thoughts by day and -night were of his home—his one longing was to see his -father before he died. Surgeon Graham went on to say -that Captain Wynde could not possibly survive a sea -journey; that he could not bear the bracing sea air, nor -the fatigues of the overland route, and he would assuredly -die on his way home. But, he added, that in -the cool and quiet seclusion of his upcountry bungalow, -his life could probably be prolonged for some three -months.</p> - -<p>Surgeon Graham concluded his startling letter with a -further reference to Captain Wynde’s anxiety to look -once more on his father’s face before he died. He said -that the poor young man had desired that the letter -should not be written to Sir Harold, and that the baronet -should be informed of his son’s illness only in the -letter which should announce that son’s death.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[42]</span></p> - -<p>This terrible news was a fearful shock to Sir Harold. -His son George, the heir of his name and estates, was -dying in a far, foreign land, with a frightful disease, -with no relative nor friend about him to smooth his -pillow in his last agony, or to wipe the death-damp -from his brows. The father sobbed aloud in his -agony.</p> - -<p>“My boy! my poor boy!” he cried, in a broken voice. -“My poor dying boy!”</p> - -<p>“It is very sad,” said Lady Wynde, wondering in her -own heart if George Wynde’s death could be made to -benefit her pecuniarily. “The surgeon seems a very -kind-hearted person, and he says that George has an excellent -native nurse, George’s man-servant—”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold interrupted his wife by a gesture of impatience.</p> - -<p>“The man is a Hindoo,” he said. “What consolation -can he offer George in the hour of his death, when his -eyes should rest on a tender, loving face—when his -dying hands should grasp the hands of a friend? My -poor brave boy! How could I ever consent to his going -out to India? All his bright, military genius, all his -longings to distinguish himself in the army, must end in -an early Indian grave! But he shall not die with not one -of his kindred beside him. We must go to him, Octavia. -We shall reach him in time.”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold seized upon his unopened <cite>Times</cite>, and -glanced over the advertisements.</p> - -<p>“A steamer sails from Marseilles two days hence,” he -announced. “We must be off to-day, immediately, to -catch it. I will have a bag packed at once. Order your -maid to pack your trunks, Octavia—”</p> - -<p>He paused, not comprehending the surprised stare in -her ladyship’s bold black eyes.</p> - -<p>“You seem to be laboring under a mistake Sir Harold,”<span class="pagenum">[43]</span> -said Lady Wynde, coolly. “If you choose to go out -to India, you can do so. George is your son and heir, -and I suppose it would really look better if you were to -go. But as to my hurrying by sea and land, by day -and night, to witness the death of a young man I never -saw, the idea is simply preposterous. My health could -never endure the strain of such a fatigue. You would -have two graves to make instead of one.”</p> - -<p>The lines in Sir Harold’s face contracted as in a sudden -spasm.</p> - -<p>“I—I was selfish to think of your going, Octavia,” he -said sorrowfully. “It is true that we should have to -travel day and night to reach Marseilles in time to catch -the steamer. The passage of the Red Sea would also be -hard for you. But I was thinking of my poor brave boy -dying there among strangers, with no woman beside -him. If—if you could have gone to him, my wife, and -let him feel that he was going from one mother here to -another mother <em>there</em>—”</p> - -<p>“I should like to go, if only my health would permit,” -sighed Lady Wynde. “But why do you not take your -daughter with you?”</p> - -<p>The father shook his head.</p> - -<p>“She is so young,” he said. “She is so fond of poor -George. I cannot cast so heavy a shadow over her -future life as that visit to her brother’s death-bed would -be. No, Octavia, I will go alone.”</p> - -<p>He arose and went out, leaving his breakfast untouched. -Lady Wynde sipped her coffee leisurely, and -ate her breakfast with untroubled appetite. Then she -proceeded to her own private sitting-room and took her -place at one of the windows, watching the whirling -snow-flakes of the February storm.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold found her here when he came in, dressed -for his journey. He had ordered a carriage, which was<span class="pagenum">[44]</span> -ready. His travelling bag was packed, and had been -taken below. He had come in to say good-bye to his -wife.</p> - -<p>“What a great change a single hour has wrought in -our lives!” he said, as he came up to Lady Wynde and -put his arms around her. “Octavia, my darling, it -wrings my heart to leave you. Write to me by every -post. I shall remain with my boy until all is over. Tell -me all the home news. You will have Neva home at -Easter, and love her for my sake! She will be our only -child soon!”</p> - -<p>He embraced his wife with passionate affection, and -murmured words of anguished farewell. He tore -himself from her, but at the door he turned back, and -spoke to her with a solemnity she had never seen in him -before.</p> - -<p>“Octavia,” he said, “at this moment a strange presentiment -comes over me—a sudden horror—a chill as of -death! Perhaps I am to die out there in India! If—if -anything happens to me, Octavia, promise me to be good -to my Neva.”</p> - -<p>“It is not necessary to promise,” said Lady Wynde, -“but to please you, I promise!”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold’s keen blue eyes, full of anguish, rested in -a long steady gaze upon that false handsome face, and -the solemnity of his countenance increased.</p> - -<p>“You will be Neva’s guardian, if I die,” he said, in a -broken voice. “I trust you absolutely. God do unto -you, Octavia, as you do unto my orphan child!”</p> - -<p>How those words rang in the ears of Lady Wynde -long afterward!</p> - -<p>Sir Harold gave her a last embrace, and dashed down -the stairs and sprang into the carriage. Lady Wynde -watched him with tearless eyes as he drove down the -avenue.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p> - -<p>When he had disappeared from her sight, she said to -herself:</p> - -<p>“Of course I could have done nothing to put an end -to Sir Harold’s life this morning. I only hope he will -die in India—to save me the trouble of—of doing anything -when he gets back!”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold proceeded to Canterbury with all speed. -On arriving, he proceeded directly to his solicitor’s, had -a new will drawn up, constituting Lady Wynde his -daughter’s personal guardian, and making Neva his sole -heiress in the event of her brother’s death, Lady Wynde -having been sufficiently provided for by her marriage -settlements. The will duly signed and witnessed, Sir -Harold hastened to the station, catching the train for -Dover.</p> - -<p>He crossed to Calais by the first boat, and went on to -Marseilles, by way of Paris, without stopping even -to see his daughter. He was not only in time to get -passage by the <em>Messageries Imperiales</em> steamer, but had -an hour to spare. In this hour he wrote a long and very -tender letter to his daughter, telling her of her brother’s -illness, and hinting of the gloom that had settled down -upon his own soul. He begged her if anything happened -to him on this journey, to love her step-mother, and to -obey her in all things, regarding Lady Wynde’s utterances -as if they came from Sir Harold.</p> - -<p>He also wrote a note to his wife, and sent the two -ashore to be posted by one of the agents of the company, -just as the vessel weighed anchor for Suez.</p> - -<p>In thirty-five days after leaving home he was in the -Indian hill country, and beside his dying son.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde went out very little after her husband’s -departure. She gave no more dinner parties, and behaved -with such admirable discretion that her neighbors -were full of praises of her. Although young, handsome<span class="pagenum">[46]</span> -and admired, presiding over one of the finest places in -the county, with no one to direct or thwart her movements, -the most censorious tongue could find nothing to -condemn in her.</p> - -<p>The only recreation she allowed herself were her weekly -visits to London, ostensibly to see Madame Elise, but as -the ashen-eyed Artress always accompanied her, they excited -no comment even in her own household.</p> - -<p>Easter drew near, and Lady Wynde wrote to her step-daughter -that it would not be convenient to have her at -Hawkhurst during the holidays, and ordered her to remain -at her school.</p> - -<p>The spring months passed slowly. Lady Wynde -wrote by every post to her husband, and received letters -as frequently. George’s minutest symptoms were described -to her by the anxious father, and George himself, -looking at his step-mother through his father’s eyes, -sent her loving and pathetic messages, to which she -duly responded.</p> - -<p>Thus the time wore on until the midsummer.</p> - -<p>About the middle of July, Lady Wynde received a -black-bordered letter from her husband stating that his -son and heir was dead. He had died at his up-country -bungalow, after an illness which had been protracted -considerably beyond the anticipations of his surgeon. Sir -Harold wrote that he was exhausted by long nursing, -and that he should remain a fortnight longer at his son’s -bungalow to recruit his own health, and that he should -then start for home.</p> - -<p>“I wish he would come,” said Lady Wynde discontentedly, -to her gray companion. “I am tired of this -dull existence. I am anxious to rid myself of the trammels -of my present marriage, and to be free to marry -again.”</p> - -<p>“You can be free within a week after Sir Harold’s return,”<span class="pagenum">[47]</span> -said Artress. “And he will be here in September.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be free in September,” mused Lady Wynde, -with sparkling eyes. “A widow with four thousand a -year! Ah, if only some good demon would bring about -that happy fact, leaving <em>my</em> hands unstained with crime?”</p> - -<p>It seemed as if her familiar demon had anticipated her -prayer.</p> - -<p>Some two weeks later, a second black-bordered letter -was brought to Lady Wynde. It was in an unfamiliar -handwriting, and proved to be from Surgeon Graham.</p> - -<p>It announced the death of Sir Harold Wynde!</p> - -<p>The surgeon stated that the baronet had made all arrangements -for returning to England, and that he had -gone for a last ride among the hills. He had taken a -jungle path, but being well armed and attended by a -Hindoo servant, had anticipated no trouble. Some -hours after he had set out on his ride, about the time the -surgeon looked for his return, the Hindoo servant, covered -with dust, rode up alone in a very panic of terror. -With difficulty he told his story. Sir Harold Wynde had -been attacked by a tiger that had leaped upon him from -the jungle, and before his terrified servant could come -to his aid, he had been dragged from his saddle, with -the life-blood welling from his torn throat and breast. -The servant, appalled, had not dared to fire, knowing -that no human power could help Sir Harold in his extremity, -and the baronet had been killed before his eyes. -The Hindoo had then fled homeward to tell the awful -story.</p> - -<p>The surgeon added, that a party had been made up to -visit the scene of the tragedy. A pool of blood, fragments -of Sir Harold’s garments, the bones of his horse, -and the foot-prints of a tiger, all tended to the confirmation -of the Hindoo’s story. A hunt was organized for<span class="pagenum">[48]</span> -the tiger, and he was found near the same spot on the -following day and killed.</p> - -<p>We have given a brief epitome of the letter that declared -to Lady Wynde that her prayer was answered, -and that she was a widow.</p> - -<p>She was sitting in the drawing-room at Hawkhurst -when the letter was brought in to her. She was still sitting -there, the letter lying on her lap, twice read, when -her gray companion stole into the room.</p> - -<p>“A letter from Sir Harold, Octavia?” said Artress, -glancing at the black-bordered missive.</p> - -<p>“No, it is from that Surgeon Graham,” answered her -ladyship, with an exultant thrill in her low, soft voice. -“You cannot guess the news, Artress. Sir Harold is -dead!”</p> - -<p>“Dead?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” cried Lady Wynde, “and I am a widow. Is it -not glorious? A widow, well-jointured and free to marry -again! Ha, ha! Tell the household the sad news, Artress, -and tell them all that I am too overcome with grief -to speak to them. Let the bell at the village be set tolling. -Send a notice of the death to the <cite>Times</cite>. I am a -widow, and the guardian of the heiress of Hawkhurst! -You must write to my step-daughter of her bereavement, -and also drop a note to Craven. A widow, and without -crime. The heiress of Hawkhurst in my hands to do with -as I please! Your future is to be linked with mine, my -young Neva, and a fate your father never destined for -you shall be yours. I stand upon the pinnacle of success -at last.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">SETTLING INTO HER PLACE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The announcement of Sir Harold Wynde’s death in -India, so soon too after the death of his son and heir, produced -a shock throughout his native county of Kent, and -even throughout England; for, although the baronet had -been no politician, he had been one of the best known -men in the kingdom, and there were many who had known -and esteemed him, who mourned deeply at his tragic -fate.</p> - -<p>The London papers, the <cite>Times</cite>, the <cite>Morning Post</cite>, and -others, came out with glowing eulogies of the grand-souled -baronet whose life had been so noble and beneficent. -The local papers of Kent copied these long obituaries, -and added thereto accounts of the pedigree of the -Wynde family, and a description of the young heiress -upon whom, by the untimely deaths of both father and -brother, the great family estates and possessions, all excepting -the bare title, now devolved.</p> - -<p>The retainers of the family, the farmers and servants—those -who had known Sir Harold best—mourned for him, -refusing to be comforted. They would never know again -a landlord so genial, nor a master so kindly: and although -they hoped for much from his daughter, yet, as -they mournfully said to each other, Miss Neva would -marry some day, and the chances were even that she -would give to Hawkhurst a harsh and tyrannical -master.</p> - -<p>The little village of Wyndham, near Hawkhurst, the -very ideal of a Kentish village, had been mostly owned -by Sir Harold Wynde. To him had belonged the row of<span class="pagenum">[50]</span> -shops, the old inn with its creaking sign, and most of the -neat houses that stood in gardens along the single street. -It was Sir Harold who had caused to be built the little -new stone church, with its slender spire, and in this -church the mourning villagers gathered to listen to the -sermon that was preached in commemoration of the baronet’s -death.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde was not present to listen to this sermon. -Her gray companion, attired in deep mourning, with the -entire household of Hawkhurst, was there, and the young -clergyman made a feeling allusion to “the bereaved young -widow, sitting alone in her darkened chamber and weeping -for her dead, refusing like Rachel of old, to be comforted.” -Many of the kindly women present shed tears -at this picture, but Artress smiled behind her double -mourning vail. She knew that Lady Wynde was lying -upon a sofa in her luxurious sitting-room at Hawkhurst, -busy with a French novel, and she knew also that not one -tear had dimmed her ladyship’s black eyes since the news -had come of Sir Harold’s horrible fate.</p> - -<p>Neighbors and friends thronged to Hawkhurst to offer -their condolences to the young widow. For the first -week she was reported inconsolable, and refused to see -any one; but a box of the most elegant and fashionable -mourning having come down from London, Lady Wynde -began to receive her visitors. She affected to be quite -broken down by her bereavement, and for weeks did not -go out of doors. And when, finally, being urged to take -care of her health and to become resigned to her loss, -she took morning drives, her equipage looked like a -funeral one, her carriage and horses being alike black, -and her own face being shrouded in double folds of -sombre crape.</p> - -<p>Artress had written to Sir Harold’s daughter immediately -upon the arrival of the news of Sir Harold’s<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> -death, but the letter had been cold and practical, and -contained merely the terrible announcement, without -one line to soften its horror. About a week later, no -letter having been received from Neva, Lady Wynde -wrote a very pathetic letter, full of protestations of sympathy, -and setting forth her own mock sorrow as something -genuinely heart-rending, and declaring herself -utterly prostrated in both body and mind. Her ladyship -offered her condolences to the bereaved daughter, -assuring her that henceforth they “must be all the world -to each other,” and concluded her letter by the false -statement that it had been the late Sir Harold’s wish -that his daughter should remain at her Paris school a -year longer, and, as the wishes of the dead are sacred, -Lady Wynde had sacrificed her own personal feelings in -the matter, and had consented that Neva should remain -another year “under the care of her excellent French -teachers.”</p> - -<p>“That disposes of the girl for a year,” commented -Lady Wynde, as she sealed the missive. “I won’t have -her here to spy upon me until the year of mourning is -over, and I am free to do just as I please.”</p> - -<p>So the letter was dispatched, and the baronet’s daughter -was condemned to continue her school tasks, even -though her heart might be breaking. There was no -leisure for her in which to weep for the fate of her noble -father; no one who had known him with whom she -might talk of him; and only in the long and lonely -night times was she free to weep for him, and then indeed -her pillow was wetted with her tears.</p> - -<p>About three weeks after the receipt of the letter from -India announcing Sir Harold’s death, the baronet’s solicitor -at Canterbury received a note from the widow, requesting -him to call at Hawkhurst on the following day. -He obeyed the summons, bringing with him a copy of<span class="pagenum">[52]</span> -Sir Harold’s will, made, as will be remembered, upon -the day of the baronet’s departure from England. Lady -Wynde, clad in the deepest weeds of woe, and attended -by Artress, also in mourning, received the solicitor in -the library, a grand apartment with vaulted ceiling, and -lofty walls lined with books in uniform Russia leather -bindings.</p> - -<p>“I have sent for you, Mr. Atkins,” said Lady Wynde, -when the customary greetings had been exchanged, “to -learn if poor Sir Harold left a will. I had his desk -searched, and no document of the sort can be found. If -he made no will, I am anxious to know how I am to be -affected by the omission.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Atkins, a thin, small man, with a large, bald head, -looked surprised at the simple directness of this speech. -He had expected to find her ladyship overcome with -grief, as report portrayed her; but her eyes were as -bright and tearless, her cheeks as red, her features as -composed, as if the business in hand were of the most -trivial and unimportant description. Atkins, who had -appreciated Sir Harold’s grand nature, felt an aversion -to Lady Wynde from this moment.</p> - -<p>“She didn’t care for him,” he mentally decided on the -instant. “She’s an arrant humbug, and poor Sir Harold’s -love was wasted on her. Upon my soul, I believe all -she cared about him was for the title and his money.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde’s sharp eyes did not fail to perceive the -unfavorable impression she had made. She bit her lip -fiercely, and her cheeks flushed hotly. Her brows arched -themselves superciliously, and Mr. Atkins, marking her -impatience, hastened to answer:</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold left a will, my lady. It was drawn up at -my office at Canterbury upon the day on which he left -England for India. You will remember that he left -Hawkhurst in the morning and drove to Canterbury. He<span class="pagenum">[53]</span> -came direct to my office, and dictated and signed his -will. He then proceeded directly to the station and -went by train to Dover, and crossed to Calais. The will -was left in my keeping and is, there can be no question, -the last will and testament of Sir Harold Wynde.”</p> - -<p>“I presume no one will care to question the will,” said -Lady Wynde coldly, “although Sir Harold was in a very -excited frame of mind that morning, on account of the -news of his son’s illness, and the pain of leaving his home -and me. Nevertheless, I dare say he was quite competent -to dictate a will. I sent you the particulars of Sir Harold’s -death, with some of the letters detailing the sad -event which I have received from India. There being -no possible doubt of his awful fate, it is time to prove -his will. I wish you to give me some idea of its contents.”</p> - -<p>The solicitor drew out a long leathern pocket-book -and took from it a neatly folded paper.</p> - -<p>“I have here a copy of the will,” he said briefly. “Is -it your ladyship’s wish to have the will formally read, in -the presence of witnesses?”</p> - -<p>“No, that is unnecessary. Leave out the usual useless -preamble and tell me what disposition my husband made -of his property—the freehold farms, the money in bank, -the consols, the bonds and mortgages? All these he was -free to leave to whom he pleased. I desire to know to -whom he did leave them.”</p> - -<p>There was a greediness in the looks and tones of Lady -Wynde that chilled Atkins. In her anxiety to learn the -contents of the will, her ladyship half dropped her mask -and displayed something of her true character, and he -was quick to read it.</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold Wynde, in expectation of the death of his -son and heir,” replied Atkins, in his most formal tones, -“bequeathed all the property you have mentioned, all<span class="pagenum">[54]</span> -his real and personal property, to his daughter, Miss -Neva Wynde.”</p> - -<p>“All to her?” muttered Lady Wynde. “<em>All</em>, you -say?”</p> - -<p>“All, my lady. Miss Wynde also inherits Hawkhurst -and the entailed property. She is one of the richest -heiresses in England.”</p> - -<p>“And—and my name is not mentioned?”</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold declares that you are provided for by the -terms of the marriage settlement. You have Wynde -Heights for your dower house and four thousand pounds -a year during your life, with no restrictions in regard to -a second marriage—a very liberal provision I consider -it.”</p> - -<p>“And a very shabby one I consider it,” cried Lady -Wynde, with a black frown. “Sir Harold’s daughter -seventy thousand pounds a year, and I have a paltry -four. It is a shame, a miserable, burning shame!”</p> - -<p>“It is unjust, scandalous!” muttered Artress.</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold thought the sum sufficient, and I must -say I agree with him,” declared Atkins. “Your ladyship -was contented with the provision at your marriage. -If the allowance was unsatisfactory, why did you not -expostulate with Sir Harold at that time? Why wait -until he is dead to accuse him of injustice?”</p> - -<p>“We will not argue the matter,” said Lady Wynde -superciliously. “I shall not contest the will. And now -about my rich young step-daughter. Who are her -appointed guardians?”</p> - -<p>There was a perceptible anxiety in her manner, which -Atkins noticed with some wonder. He referred to his -copy of the will, which was open in his hands.</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold appointed yourself, my lady, the personal -guardian of his daughter,” he said slowly. “Miss Wynde -is to reside at Hawkhurst under your care until she becomes<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> -of age or marries. Upon the occurrence of either -of those events your ladyship is to retire to Wynde -Heights, or to whatsoever place you may prefer, leaving -Miss Wynde absolute mistress of Hawkhurst. Of course -if Miss Wynde desires you to remain after her marriage, -or the attainment of her majority, you are at liberty to -do as you please. I think you comprehend Sir Harold’s -meaning. If it is not precisely clear, I will read the -will—”</p> - -<p>“Do not!” interrupted Lady Wynde impatiently. “I -abhor all that tedious phraseology. I understand that -I am Miss Wynde’s sole personal guardian, that I am to -direct her actions, introduce her into society, and that -she is to give me the simple, unhesitating obedience of -a daughter. Is this not so?”</p> - -<p>“It is,” assented Atkins, rather hesitatingly. “Sir -Harold expresses the hope that his widow and his daughter -will love each other; and that your ladyship will give -to his orphan child a mother’s tenderness and affection.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold knew that he could depend upon my -kindness to his child,” said Lady Wynde hypocritically. -“I promised him before he went away to be a mother to -her, although I shall be but a young mother, to be sure. -I shall be very good to the poor girl, whom I love -already. I don’t know anything about law, Mr. Atkins, -but is not some other guardian also necessary—some one -to see to the property, you know?”</p> - -<p>“There are three trustees appointed to look after the -estate during Miss Wynde’s minority,” answered Atkins. -“Sir John Freise is one. You know him well, my lady, -and a more incorruptible, honest-souled gentleman than -he does not exist. He is a man of fine business capacity, -and Sir Harold could not have chosen better. I am also -a trustee, and I can answer for my own probity, and for -my great devotion to the interests of Miss Wynde.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[56]</span></p> - -<p>“And the third trustee—who is he?”</p> - -<p>“The young Earl Towyn. He is the son of one of -Sir Harold’s dearest friends, as you probably know, and -his youth admirably balances Sir John’s age.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde looked thoughtful. Her gray companion -bent over her work, embroidering a black monogram -upon a black-bordered handkerchief, and did not look -up. Her ashen-hued lashes lay on her ashen cheeks, and -she looked dull, spiritless, a mere gray shadow, as we -have called her, but Atkins, studying her face, had an -uncomfortable impression that under all that coldness a -fire was burning.</p> - -<p>“She’s more than she looks to be,” he thought keenly. -“I wonder Sir Harold tolerated her in his house. How -singularly she resembles a cat!”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde presently broke the silence.</p> - -<p>“I understand the situation of affairs,” she said, “and -I am obliged to you for your prompt attendance upon -my summons, Mr. Atkins. I shall leave my money -affairs in your hands. I desire my jointure to be paid -into the bank and placed to my credit, so that I may -draw upon it when I please. There is nothing more, I -think.”</p> - -<p>“I would like to make a few inquiries about Miss -Wynde, if you please, my lady,” said Atkins, with -quiet firmness. “I understand that she is not at home. -Has she not been summoned from her school since her -father’s death?”</p> - -<p>“She has not,” answered Lady Wynde haughtily.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, madam, but are you not about to summon -her?”</p> - -<p>“I am not. Miss Wynde will remain this year at -school. Her studies must be interrupted upon no account -at this time.”</p> - -<p>“Not even by her father’s death?” asked Atkins<span class="pagenum">[57]</span> -bitterly. “Sir Harold mentioned to me his desire to -have her at home—”</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold Wynde is no longer master of Hawkhurst,” -interposed Lady Wynde, with increased superciliousness. -“I believe, by the terms of the will, that I -am mistress here during Neva’s minority. Let me tell -you, Mr. Atkins, that I am my step-daughter’s sole personal -guardian, and that I will submit to no dictation -whatever in my treatment of the girl. If my husband -had sufficient confidence in me to make me his daughter’s -guardian, the trustees whom he himself appointed -have no need nor right to comment upon my actions or -interfere in my plans. Permit me to assure you that I -will brook no interference, and if you try to sow dissension -between Neva and me you are proving unfaithful -to Sir Harold—as well as oblivious of your own -interests.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Atkins sighed, and murmured an apology. He -soon after took his leave, and drove away in the chaise -in which he had come. His heart was very heavy and -his face overcast as he emerged from the Hawkhurst -grounds into the highway, and journeyed toward Canterbury.</p> - -<p>“It was a sorry day for Neva Wynde when her father -died,” he murmured, looking back at the grand old seat—“a -sorry day! This handsome black-eyed Lady -Wynde, that everybody is praising for an angel of love -and devotion to her husband, is at heart a demon! She -means mischief, though I can’t see how. Poor Neva is -booked for trouble!”</p> - -<p>Enough of honest Mr. Atkins’ sentiments had been -apparent in his countenance to prejudice Lady Wynde -against him, and to warn her that he comprehended -something of her real character. As may be supposed, -therefore, she did not again summon him to Hawkhurst.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[58]</span></p> - -<p>The days and weeks and months of Lady Wynde’s -widowhood passed on without event. She carried herself -circumspectly in the eyes of the world. No visitors -were invited to Hawkhurst, and her ladyship’s visits to -London were few and far between. She seldom went -to Canterbury, and her drives about the neighborhood -of Hawkhurst were always of the most funereal description, -with black coach, black horses and black attire, -and a slow gait. Her ladyship was found every Sunday -in the baronet’s great square pew in the little Wyndham -church, and as she always sat with the silken curtains -drawn, no one could know that she was not absorbed in -the church services. In short, during the year she had -determined to devote to mourning for her dead husband, -the conduct of Lady Wynde was such as to deepen -her popularity throughout the county. Sir John Freise -enthusiastically declared her an angel, her neighbors -praised her, and only honest Mr. Atkins shook his head -doubtfully when her virtues were lauded, and dared to -suggest that she might not be all she seemed.</p> - -<p>The year slowly wore away, and midsummer had -come again. The languor of Lady Wynde’s dull existence -had begun to give place to a strange restlessness. -Her deep mourning had grown odious in her sight, and -was replaced by the lovely combinations of white and -black, the delicate lavenders and soft gray hues which -are supposed to indicate a mitigated grief. The hideous -widow’s cap, not at all becoming to her ladyship, was -exchanged for lavender ribbons in her hair, and jewels -took the place of the orthodox mourning ornaments of -jet. In her “half mourning,” Lady Wynde appeared -more than ever a strikingly handsome woman.</p> - -<p>“Artress,” she said one morning to her gray companion, -as she looked out of her sitting-room window -upon the fair domain of Hawkhurst, “this dreaded year<span class="pagenum">[59]</span> -is over at last. I have satisfied the demands of society; -I have hoodwinked the jealous and envious eyes of -neighbors, and am free at last. If I were to marry to-morrow, -no one could say that I had not treated the -memory of Sir Harold Wynde with respect. With the -sacrifice of but little over two years of my life, I have -won a fine income, a splendid home during Neva’s minority, -and the guardianship of one of the greatest heiresses -in England. That office is worth three thousand -a year to me while I hold it. Surely I have played my -part well.”</p> - -<p>“You have indeed,” echoed Artress.</p> - -<p>“Neva must come home soon, but my own business -must be settled before her advent on the scene. I shall -write to Craven immediately. I will have no further -delay.”</p> - -<p>She went to a small, beautifully inlaid writing desk, -which stood in a recessed window, and sitting down by -it, wrote upon heavy velvet paper the following words:</p> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Craven</span>: You may come to me at last. There is no -further obstacle between us.</p> - -<p class="center pminus1" style="padding-left:20em">“<span class="smcap">Octavia.</span>”</p> - -<p>This brief missive she inclosed in a square envelope, -and stamped with pale green wax and her favorite device.</p> - -<p>The letter she addressed to The Hon. Craven Black, -The Albany, London, W.</p> - -<p>She then touched her bell. To the servant who came -at her summons she gave the letter, ordering it to be -posted at Wyndham village without delay. When her -messenger had gone, her ladyship gave a sigh of consent, -and murmured:</p> - -<p>“I am about to reap the reward of all my schemes. -Craven will be here to-morrow!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[60]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">HER LADYSHIP’S ACCOMPLICE.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The morrow to which Lady Wynde looked forward -with feverish expectation dawned at last, bright and -clear, and deepened into a sultry afternoon. The baronet’s -widow spent hours at her toilet, and the effect of -her labors was satisfactory to her. She surveyed her -reflection in a full-length mirror in her dressing-room -with a smile of complacency. Her black hair was -arranged in braids, curls, and finely crimpled waves, -after the fashion of the day, and in the midst of its prodigal -luxuriance, above her forehead, a jeweled spray -flashed and glittered. Her dress, made low in the neck -and short in the sleeves, to display her finely rounded -shoulders and arms, was of lustrous silk of lavender hue, -and was draped with a black lace overskirt. A necklace -and bracelets incrusted with diamonds added brilliancy -to her appearance. Her liquid black eyes shone and -glittered; her cheeks were red as damask roses; she had -never looked half so handsome in the days when she -had fascinated Sir Harold Wynde and made him adore -her.</p> - -<p>She had dismissed her maid, and was giving a last -touch to the short curls that dropped over her forehead, -while she talked with Artress, when wheels were heard -coming up the drive. The gray companion flitted to a -shuttered window and peeped out. A cab was approaching -the house, and a man’s head was protruded from the -window. His face was half averted, as he apparently -studied the exterior of the dwelling, but Artress knew -him. She glided back to Lady Wynde with the words:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[61]</span></p> - -<p>“He has come!”</p> - -<p>A sudden agitation seemed to convulse the soul of the -baronet’s widow. A sudden paleness swept over her -face. She leaned heavily upon the back of a chair, and -stood there motionless until a servant brought up a -silver tray on which lay a large square card with the inscription, -“The Honorable Craven Black,” and announced -that the gentleman had been shown into the -drawing-room. Then her ladyship started abruptly, -the color returning to her face in ruddy waves.</p> - -<p>“Come, Artress,” she said, “we will go below. Yet -stay. You may delay your coming for half an hour. -Surely no one can find fault with me for seeing him -alone a little while. Since I became a widow for the -second time, I have felt as if I lived in a glass lantern -with the eyes of all Kent upon me. Yet there is no -need of carrying my caution too far.”</p> - -<p>She gave a last glance at her reflection in the mirror, a -last deft touch to her attire, and then swept from the -room down the stairs, and slowly entered the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>A gentleman within arose from his seat, and came -forward with outstretched hands and eager face. He -was tall, handsome, fair-haired, with light eyes full of -sinister gleams, and his full, sensual lips wore even now -a cynical smile that appeared habitual to them.</p> - -<p>He was the same man who had watched, from the -pier head at Brighton, the rescue of Octavia Hathaway -from the sea by Sir Harold Wynde—the same man who -had witnessed the marriage of the baronet and the -widow from behind a clustered pillar in the church, and -whose sinister comments, as he emerged into Hanover -Square, we have chronicled.</p> - -<p>His quick glance swept the form and face of Lady -Wynde; a look of admiration burned in his eyes. He<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> -held out his arms. With a joyous cry, the handsome -widow sprang forward, and was clasped in his embrace.</p> - -<p>“At last! At last!” she murmured.</p> - -<p>“Yes, at last!” echoed Mr. Black, in tones of exultation. -“Nothing stands between us now, Octavia! We -have lost nothing by waiting. We have been guilty of -no crime, and fate itself has played into our hands. And -you, Octavia, in the prime of your beauty, are more -magnificent than ever.”</p> - -<p>He drew her to a sofa and clasped an arm around her -waist. Her head drooped to his shoulder. The flush of -intense joy mantled her face. With all her soul Lady -Wynde loved this man, and her voice trembled as she -murmured:</p> - -<p>“Oh, Craven, I am glad that my life of hypocrisy is -over at last, that there is no longer fear of discovery, -and that we are free to enjoy our reward. How long -ago it seems since you and I formed and entered upon -our conspiracy which has placed me where I am! I -was a widow with a meager income and expensive -tastes. You were a widower with a son to educate, and -a beggarly home and a beggarly income, so that you -could not afford to marry. How well I remember that -night in London, when you told me that if I had courage -and boldness proportionate to my beauty, I could -make our fortunes and our happiness. I eagerly asked -how I could do this, and you showed me a copy of a -Court Journal in which was a paragraph to the effect -that ‘Sir Harold Wynde had gone down to Brighton, -and that his presence there had created quite a flutter -among marriageable ladies.’ And then you told me of -his wealth and generosity, and urged me to try my fascinations -upon him, to win him, to marry him—and to -succeed in good time to a handsome fortune upon which -you and I could marry. How long ago all that seems!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[63]</span></p> - -<p>“Was it not a clever idea, and cleverly executed?” -said Mr. Black triumphantly. “It was a successful conspiracy, -Octavia, and to you belongs the credit of its -success. You went down to Brighton; you introduced -yourself in a novel manner to Sir Harold Wynde; and -you followed up the acquaintance with such effect that -he offered you marriage. And as that was what you -wanted, you married him. You would have made yourself -a widow, but that fate saved you the trouble. Two -years and six months ago you were a poor widow, unable -to marry me because of our mutual poverty. Now -you are again a widow, rich, respected, honored throughout -Kent, and can marry whom you please. I am as -poor as I was three years ago, and yet, Octavia, I know -that you prefer me to all other men. Is it not so?”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde blushed as she murmured assent. She -was essentially bad, being unprincipled and unscrupulous, -but she loved Craven Black with her whole heart, -and with a fervor that astonished herself.</p> - -<p>After the death of her first husband, Lady Wynde had -first met Craven Black. They had fallen in love with -each other, as the phrase goes, at their first meeting. -He was a gambler, dissolute—an adventurer, in fact, although -his respectable birth and connections prevented -the name from attaching to him. He was a widower, -and possessed but a scanty settled income; yet, from -his nefarious gains at the gambling table, and in other -ways, he managed to keep up the appearance of a man -of fashion, to keep a private cab and a tiger, chambers -at the Albany, and to educate his only son, now a man -grown. His gains were, however, precarious, and he -declined entering upon marriage with a person even -poorer than himself.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde, in the days of her first widowhood, had -been but little better than an adventuress. It is true that<span class="pagenum">[64]</span> -she had a respectable name, high connections, and a -home in her aunt’s house in Bloomsbury Square; but -she was ambitious of social position, she chafed at her -poverty, and had too much worldly wisdom to marry -Craven Black in the then state of their fortunes, even -had he desired it.</p> - -<p>When his fertile brain, therefore, formed a scheme by -which she could enrich them both by imposing upon a -high-minded gentleman, marrying, and then putting him -out of her way as if his life were valueless, she hesitated, -and finally consented. How she had carried out her -share in the foul conspiracy against Sir Harold, the -reader knows.</p> - -<p>“Four thousand pounds a year and a good house are -worth serving for,” said Mr. Black meditatively. “I -think, however, that we have waited long enough, Octavia. -When are you going to marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Not before September,” declared Lady Wynde decisively. -“I must have a magnificent wardrobe. I am -so tired of dowdy black. And as I shall have to give -up the Wynde family diamonds to the heiress, I must -order some jewels for myself. Let us appoint our marriage -to take place in October. People will talk if it -occurs sooner.”</p> - -<p>Craven Black smiled cynically.</p> - -<p>“Shall you care what people say?” he inquired. “I -thought you were a law unto yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed I am not. No woman in the world has a -greater regard for ‘they say’ than I have,” returned -Lady Wynde emphatically. “You see I cannot afford -to turn my back upon Mrs. Grundy. I am ambitious to -be a social leader, and to become so, I must give people -faith in my knowledge of the proprieties of life. I occupy -a high position here as the widow of Sir Harold -Wynde, and he was a sort of idol here, so that, I dare<span class="pagenum">[65]</span> -say, people will be jealous of my marrying at all. And -then, again, I desire to gain the love and confidence of -my step-daughter before I remarry. Her guardianship -is worth three thousand a year to me. I shall have -that sum annually as a recompense for chaperoning -her.”</p> - -<p>“I would be willing to chaperon several young ladies -on such terms,” said Mr. Black. “How old is she?”</p> - -<p>“About eighteen.”</p> - -<p>“And how large an income has she?”</p> - -<p>“Seventy thousand a year.”</p> - -<p>An eager light came into Craven Black’s eyes, and an -eager glow mounted to his fair face.</p> - -<p>“A handsome sum,” he ejaculated. “She has a glorious -inheritance. What sort of girl is she?”</p> - -<p>“A bread-and-butter school-girl, I suppose. I have -never met her. She was Sir Harold’s idol, and he was -always wanting her to come home, but I did not want -her jealous eyes spying on me, so I contrived to keep -her away. She has not been at Hawkhurst since my -coming.”</p> - -<p>“You correspond with her?”</p> - -<p>“I write to her now and then, and she sends me a duty -letter, as I call it, once a month. I generally read a line -or two and throw them aside.”</p> - -<p>“Has she any love affair?” inquired Mr. Black -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Of course not. A girl in a French boarding-school -might as well be in a convent, as far as love affairs are -concerned. What are you thinking of, Craven?” and -Lady Wynde looked at him jealously.</p> - -<p>The glow on Craven Black’s face deepened, as he -hastened to answer:</p> - -<p>“I was thinking what if this girl were to take a liking -to my son Rufus? If we could bring about a marriage<span class="pagenum">[66]</span> -between her and Rufus, we should retain her fortune in -the family, and Rufus should agree to allow us ten thousand -a year for using our influence with her. What do -you think?”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde looked startled—pleased.</p> - -<p>“The very thing!” she exclaimed. “I have been -thinking that I should not long be allowed to remain -mistress of Hawkhurst after Neva’s return. An heiress -like her will not want for suitors, and she will marry, -and I cannot prevent it. The proper way is to direct -her marriage for our own benefit. Is Rufus likely to -please a romantic school-girl?”</p> - -<p>“I think he cannot fail to please her. He is not yet -one and twenty, well-looking, accomplished, well educated, -rather weak-willed and easily governed, and like -clay in my hands. He has romantic notions about love -and marriage, and if he is on the ground first I am sure -he will win the girl’s heart. I had a quarrel with him -some weeks ago, and he went away from me at my command, -and has taken cheap rooms somewhere and is trying -to live by painting cheap pictures, or some such -thing. I’ll send for him, and have him up at Wyndham -directly.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you quarrel with him, Craven? I thought -you were so fond of him.”</p> - -<p>“I was—I am. But he dared oppose his will to mine, -and I turned him adrift, to let him try how he could get -along without me. He is not long out of his university, -and is perfectly helpless about earning money, but he -has some high-flown notions which hardship will cure. -To be frank, our quarrel was about a little music teacher -that the boy thought himself in love with. He has given -her up, and will be glad enough to be summoned to me. -When will Miss Wynde be here?”</p> - -<p>“I had a letter to-day from Madame Dalaut, Neva’s<span class="pagenum">[67]</span> -preceptress, inquiring my wishes in regard to the girl. -Neva has completed her studies, and Madame Dalaut -insinuates that she ought to be removed from school and -be allowed to enter society. Moreover, the midsummer -holidays have commenced, and the other pupils are gone -to their homes. I have concluded to send Artress over -to Paris to-night to bring Neva home.”</p> - -<p>“Do so. My son shall also be at Wyndham to-morrow, -and shall be introduced to the heiress the day after her -return. I will engage rooms for Rufus and myself at -the Wyndham inn, so that I can be near you until our -marriage. Is this plan agreeable to you?”</p> - -<p>“Perfectly. We must be prompt in our actions. -Neva must become engaged to Rufus before she actually -enters society here. Her marriage can take place at -the same time with our own in October. Elise can do -the two trousseaux at the same time. It is an admirable -plan, and a worthy continuation of our little game.”</p> - -<p>They talked further, disclosing to each other their -nefarious plans of self-aggrandizement. Craven Black -talked in lover-like fashion, and even the exacting Lady -Wynde was persuaded that his passion for her had received -a new impulse, and that he loved her as she loved -him—with an utter devotion.</p> - -<p>As the dinner hour drew near Mr. Black took his departure, -not caring to excite the gossip of the household -upon his first visit to Lady Wynde. Directly after -dinner, Artress, attired in gray travelling suit, set out in -a carriage for Canterbury, on her way to Paris, whence -she was to bring to her own home the heiress of Hawkhurst.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[68]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">NEVA’S FIRST LOVER.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The dingy little packet-boat from Calais to Dover, -carrying the mails, bore her usual complement of passengers -upon the bright midsummer day upon which young -Neva Wynde returned after years of absence to her own -country.</p> - -<p>A few tall, mustached Frenchmen, with cigars in their -mouths; a German or two with the inevitable pipe; a -few students returning from foreign universities; a few -pedestrian tourists with hobnailed shoes, preposterous -alpenstocks, and a proudly displayed Bradshaw or Murray; -several stout and puffy Englishmen, with singularly -pale faces, and the usual number of rotund ill-dressed -English women, with flimsy muslin dresses and fur -tippets in odd contrast—a conjunction much affected by -the average British lady—made up the majority of the -passengers. Some of these people walked about, affecting -to enjoy the fresh breeze; others studied the now -useless guide-book, recalling their adventures; and others -scanned the blue shores of France alternately with the -chalk cliffs of England through the tourist glasses slung -from their shoulders, and wondered aloud if the passage -would be accomplished in the usual ninety minutes.</p> - -<p>An odd feature of a Channel packet is the total disregard -of appearances manifested by the passengers -upon it.</p> - -<p>Very few, if any, persons go below into the stuffy -little cabins, and doubting souls provide themselves with -ominous white bowls at the outset of the voyage, and -should illness come upon them they proceed to make<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> -themselves comfortable upon the deck, or moan, or -swear, according to the sex of the sufferer, totally unmindful -and oblivious of lookers on.</p> - -<p>In a corner by herself, at one side of the boat, her -thick green vail over her face shrouding a bowl that -filled her lap, sat Artress, Lady Wynde’s gray companion, -in a condition of abject misery. She had no thought of -any one but herself in that crisis of her physical career, -and gave no heed to her young charge, the one great -desire of her soul being to find herself once more upon -solid land.</p> - -<p>At the opposite side of the boat, leaning lightly upon -the rail, and looking back with wistful, longing eyes -upon the fading blue of the French shores, stood a young -girl who was strangely lovely. She was slender and -graceful as a swaying reed, and her lithe, light figure -carried itself with a slight hauteur that was inexpressibly -charming. Her high-bred manner, her evident gentleness -and sweetness, betrayed thorough culture of heart -and mind. Her face was a rare poem. The features -were slightly irregular, and even in repose, with a grave -shadow upon her fair brows, her countenance had a -bright, piquant witchery. Her complexion was very -pure and fair, her lips a vivid scarlet, and under her -broad forehead a pair of wondrous red-brown eyes -sparkled and glowed with strange brilliancy. Her hair, -very abundant, and of a reddish-brown tint as rare as -beautiful, was gathered into braids at the back of her -small, noble head.</p> - -<p>She was dressed in a traveling suit of black cashmere, -and wore a black hat surmounted with a scarlet wing.</p> - -<p>She was Neva Wynde, the owner of Hawkhurst, one -of the greatest heiresses in England, and now the object of -the sinister machinations of her handsome step-mother -and Craven Black.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[70]</span></p> - -<p>Her school-days were over, and she was on her way to -a home she had not visited for years, and to a guardian -whom she did not know, and who was secretly her enemy. -She had emerged from the pleasant security of the school-room -into a region of perils. A premonition of the -dangers before her seemed almost to come upon her now, -and into her glowing eyes crept a look of sorrowful -yearning, and of passionate protest against the friendlessness -of her lot.</p> - -<p>A few feet distant from her, also leaning upon the railing, -stood a young man, whose gaze, ostensibly fixed -upon the French coast, now and then rested upon the -girl’s speaking face with an expression of keen admiration -and interest. He thought in his own soul that he -had never seen a being so fresh, so dainty, so pure, so -rarely beautiful. She seemed utterly alone. No one inquired -how she felt, nor offered her a seat, nor looked -after her, and her young admirer wondered if she were -all alone in the world, as she seemed.</p> - -<p>He was speculating upon the subject when a sudden -lurch of the boat upon the short, chopping Channel -waves, caused Neva to involuntarily loosen her hold upon -the railing, and pitched her abruptly along the deck -toward him. He sprang forward and caught her in his -arms. She recovered her equilibrium upon the instant, -and again grasped the railing, blushing, confused, and -murmuring her thanks for his civility.</p> - -<p>“The Channel is rough to-day,” remarked the young -gentleman. “Shall I not find you a seat?”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, no,” returned Neva, in her sweet, low, -cultured voice. “I prefer standing.”</p> - -<p>The words were simple enough, and her manner was -quiet and reserved, but her voice went to the young -man’s heart, thrilling it with a strange sensation. He did<span class="pagenum">[71]</span> -not attempt a retreat, and Neva looked up at him with -something of surprise in her glorious red-brown eyes.</p> - -<p>As he encountered her full gaze, his face flushed, his -eyes glowed, and a warm smile curved his mouth.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but are you not Miss -Wynde of Hawkhurst?”</p> - -<p>Neva bowed assent, with an increasing surprise.</p> - -<p>“I was sure, when I met your full glance, that you -were Neva Wynde,” cried the young gentleman. “You -do not remember me, I see; and yet, when you went -away to that odious Paris school you and I parted with -tears, and you promised to be true to me, little Neva. -And you have forgotten me—”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” cried the young girl, an answering glow in -her face, and her eyes shining like suns. “Is it really -you, Arthur? How you have changed!”</p> - -<p>She held out her hand to him, and he clasped it with -a warm, lingering pressure. Her eyes scanned his face -in an earnest scrutiny, and she blushed again when she -saw how handsome he was, and how like he was to an -ideal she had long cherished in the very depths of her -young soul.</p> - -<p>He was fair, with warm blue eyes, golden hair, and a -mustache of tawny gold. He had a frank, noble face, -and his sunny eyes betrayed a generous soul. One who -ran might read in his countenance a brave, dauntless -soul, a grand, unselfish nature, an enlightened spirit, -quick sympathies, and an honest, truthful, resolute character. -Neva thought, as she shyly regarded him, that -he was very like a hero of romance.</p> - -<p>“I can hardly believe that it is Arthur,” she said, smiling, -her face softly flushing. “You are not at all like -the Arthur Towyn I knew, and yet I can see the old -boyish gayety and brightness of spirit. Your mustache -has changed your looks greatly, Lord Towyn.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[72]</span></p> - -<p>“It makes me look older perhaps,” said Lord Towyn -gravely, “and as I am but three and twenty, and have a -ward who is eighteen years old, it becomes me to produce -as venerable an appearance as possible. Of course -you are aware Neva, that I am one of the three trustees -or guardians of your entire property, appointed by your -father in his will?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I knew it a year ago,” replied Neva, the brightness -fading a little from her face. “Mr. Atkins wrote -me about papa’s will. Mr. Atkins and Sir John Freise -are the two other executors. You are very young for -such an appointment, are you not, Lord Towyn?”</p> - -<p>“That is a fault that time will mend,” said his lordship, -smiling. “I am young for the post, but Sir Harold -Wynde knew that he could trust me, especially with two -older heads to direct me. I am only the least of three, -you know, and my youth was meant to balance Sir John -Freise’s age. Your school life is over, is it not, Miss -Wynde?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is over,” and Neva sighed. “I am on my way -to a new sort of life, and to new acquaintances and -friends. I feel a sort of terror of my future, Lord -Towyn. I am foolish, I know, but a dread comes over -me when I look forward to going home. Home! Ah, -all that made the old house home has vanished. My poor -brother George lies in an Indian grave. Papa—poor -papa—”</p> - -<p>Her voice broke down, and she averted her head.</p> - -<p>Young Lord Towyn came nearer to her. He longed -to press her hand and to offer her his sympathy. He -comprehended her desolation, and the unhealed wound -caused by Sir Harold’s fate. His heart bled for her.</p> - -<p>He had known Neva Wynde from her earliest childhood. -They had played together in the woods and gardens -of Hawkhurst and before Neva had been sent to<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> -her foreign school the child pair had betrothed themselves -and vowed an eternal fidelity to each other. The -late Earl Towyn, the father of Arthur, and Sir Harold -Wynde had been college-mates, and it had been their -dearest wish to unite their families in the persons of -their children, but they had been too wise to broach the -idea to the young couple. They had, however, encouraged -the affection of Arthur and Neva for each other, -and had looked forward hopefully to the time when that -childish affection should possibly ripen into the love of -manhood and womanhood. Soon after Neva’s departure -for school Lord Towyn had died, and his son, then at -college, had become earl in his stead. A mysterious -fate had also removed Sir Harold Wynde, and Neva’s -step-mother, as is known to the reader, had schemes of -her own in regard to Neva’s marriage.</p> - -<p>The young earl’s mute sympathy seemed to penetrate -to Neva’s heart, for presently she turned her face again -to him, and although her mouth quivered her eyes were -brave, as she said brokenly:</p> - -<p>“You will think me unchristian, Lord Towyn, but I -cannot become reconciled to the manner of papa’s death. -If he had but died as George died, peacefully in his bed; -but his fate was so horrible—so awful! I sometimes -fancy in the night that I can hear his cries and moans. -In my own imagination I have witnessed his awful death -a thousand times. The horror of it is as fresh to me -now as when the news first came. Shall I ever get used -to my sorrow? Will the time ever come, do you think, -when I can think of papa with the calmness and resignation -with which I think of my poor brother?”</p> - -<p>“It was horrible, even to me, beyond all words to describe,” -said the young earl softly. “I loved Sir Harold -only less than my own father, and I have mourned -for him as if I had been his son. All ordinary words of<span class="pagenum">[74]</span> -consolation seem a mockery to one who mourns a friend -who perished as he did. He was vigorous and young -for his years, noble and true and good. Let us hope -that his pangs and terrors were but brief, Neva. Perhaps -his death was not so terrible to him as it seems to -us. It were better so to die than to languish for years -a prey to some excruciating disease. And let us remember -‘whatever is, is right.’ Instead of dwelling on -the manner of his death, let us remember that his death -was but the opening to him of the gates of life eternal.”</p> - -<p>Neva did not answer, but her face was very grave and -tender, and her sun-like eyes glowed with a softer radiance. -There was a brief silence between them, and -finally Neva said, with an abrupt change of the subject:</p> - -<p>“Do you know Lady Wynde, Lord Towyn?”</p> - -<p>“I have met her several times, but not since Sir -Harold’s death,” was the reply. “Is she traveling with -you?” and the young earl glanced around the deck.</p> - -<p>“No, she sent her companion for me. That is Artress, -on the other side of the boat. I have never seen Lady -Wynde.”</p> - -<p>Lord Towyn looked his astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Have you not been home since your father’s marriage, -nor since his death, Miss Wynde?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“No. Papa came once to see me at my school after -his marriage, but he did not bring his wife. I have a -picture of her which papa sent me. He must have -adored her. His letters were full of loving praises of -her, and in the last letter he wrote he told me that he -desired me to love and obey her as if she were my own -mother. His wishes are sacred to me now, and I shall -try to love her. Is she very handsome?”</p> - -<p>“She is considered handsome,” replied Lord Towyn. -“She is dark almost to swarthiness, and has a gypsy’s -black eyes. Sir Harold almost worshiped her.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[75]</span></p> - -<p>“Then she must be good?”</p> - -<p>Lord Towyn hesitated. He knew little of the handsome -Lady Wynde, but he had an instinctive distrust of -her.</p> - -<p>“She must be good,” he answered thoughtfully. -“Had she not been good, Sir Harold would not have -loved her.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, I have thought that a hundred times,” said -Neva. “I shall try to win her love. She is to stay at -Hawkhurst as my personal guardian during my minority, -and there can be no indifference between us. It -must be peace or war. I intend it shall be peace. You -see, Lord Towyn, that I shall be almost completely dependent -upon her for society and friendship. I am -coming back a stranger to my childhood’s home. Years -of absence have estranged me from the friends I knew, -and I have no one outside of Hawkhurst to look to, save -Mr. Atkins and Sir John Freise.”</p> - -<p>“And me,” said Lord Towyn earnestly. “I am associated -with them, you know. But you will not be so -utterly friendless as you think. The old county families -will hasten to call upon you, and you can select -your own friends among them. The Lady of Hawkhurst -will be feted and welcomed, and made much of. -Your trouble will soon be that you will have no time to -yourself. I desire to add myself to your list of visitors. -I am staying this summer at a place of mine on the -Kentish coast. But here is the Dover pier straight -ahead, Miss Wynde. We have made the voyage in good -time, despite the roughness of the Channel.”</p> - -<p>There was no time for further conversation. The suggestive -bowls were being hidden under benches by the -late sufferers, and bundles, boxes and bags were being -sought after with reviving energies. Artress arose, -found her traveling bag and umbrellas, and then sought<span class="pagenum">[76]</span> -for her charge. As her gaze encountered Neva’s piquant -face upturned to the admiring glances of a handsome -young gentleman, she looked shocked and horrified, and -her sharp, ashen-hued features became vinegary in their -expression. She approached the young lady with unseemly -haste, and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Miss Wynde, I am surprised—”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” said Neva, quietly interposing, although -her face flushed haughtily, “but I desire to introduce -to you, Mrs. Artress, my old friend Lord Towyn.”</p> - -<p>The young earl bowed, and Mrs. Artress did the same, -divided between her desire to be polite to a nobleman -and her anger that Neva should have renewed his acquaintance -while under her charge. Artress was deep -in the confidence of Lady Wynde and Craven Black, and -her interests were identical with theirs. She had a keen -scent for danger, and in the attitude of Lord Towyn toward -Neva she recognized an admiration which might -easily deepen into love.</p> - -<p>“Come, my dear,” said Mrs. Artress anxiously. “The -boat is at the pier, and we must hasten ashore. Give -me your dressing bag—”</p> - -<p>She paused, seeing that Lord Towyn had already possessed -himself of it. The young earl offered his arm to -Neva, and she placed her hand lightly upon it, and was -conducted along the boat to the place of landing. Mrs. -Artress followed, biting her lips with chagrin.</p> - -<p>The landing and examination of baggage were duly -accomplished, and Lord Towyn conducted his charges -to a first-class coach of the waiting train, seated them, -and took his place beside Neva.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to Hawkhurst also, my lord?” inquired -Mrs. Artress sourly, as he fed the guard handsomely, -in order that no other travelers might be ushered -into their compartment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[77]</span></p> - -<p>“No, madam, not to-day,” answered the young earl -pleasantly. “I am on my way to Canterbury to consult -with Sir John Freise and Mr. Atkins concerning -some business relative to the Hawkhurst property, and I -shall probably do myself the honor to call with them -upon Miss Wynde in a day or two.”</p> - -<p>“Lady Wynde will be happy to see you and to consult -with you,” said Mrs. Artress, with ill-concealed -annoyance. “Miss Wynde is too young, I should judge, -to understand anything about business. Besides, her -friends should spare her all trouble of that description.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be always ready to consult with you about -business, Lord Towyn,” said Neva in her clear, low voice. -“I desire to fit myself for my position as owner and dispenser -of a large income. I regard the money intrusted -to me as a talent for which I shall be called to account, -and I want to learn to manage my affairs properly, and -with prudence and discretion. I think,” she added -lightly, “that I shall take Miss Burdett Coutts as my exemplar -in this matter. She is a business woman, I understand, -and I should like to be like her.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Artress was silenced, but she thought within -herself:</p> - -<p>“Our young lady has opinions of her own, and has the -courage to express them. I am afraid that she is not the -bread and butter school-girl we expected. I am afraid -that we shall have trouble with her.”</p> - -<p>The journey to Canterbury was accomplished only too -quickly for Lord Towyn and Neva. They talked of their -childhood, but no allusion was made to their childish betrothal, -although both doubtless thought of it. The -young earl explained that he had been over to Brussels -for a week, and had no thought of meeting her on his -way home, and his face as well as his tones told how glad -he was of that meeting.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[78]</span></p> - -<p>The Hawkhurst carriage with its liveried servants was -in waiting at the Canterbury station when they alighted. -Lord Towyn assisted the ladies into the vehicle, bade -them adieu, and as they drove away followed them with -a lingering gaze.</p> - -<p>“How beautiful Neva is!” he murmured to himself. -“And so pure and sweet and tender, yet spirited! I wonder -if she remembers our childish betrothal? I don’t like -that Artress, and I do not quite like Lady Wynde. I -hardly think Neva will be happy with her, their natures -being so dissimilar. I must go out to Hawkhurst to-morrow, -and judge whether they are likely to get on together. -If Neva does not like her step-mother, she has -but one avenue of escape from her dominion before she -becomes of age, and that avenue is marriage. If she -would only marry me. I love her already. Love her! I -could adore her.”</p> - -<p>A passionate flush arose to his fair cheek, and a tender -glowing light to his warm blue eyes, and he descended -the steps and strode out of the station, his heart thrilling -with the strange and new sensation which he now knew -was love. And as he walked along the street, he vowed -within himself that he would woo and, if he could, would -win young Neva Wynde to be his wife.</p> - -<p>Ah, he little knew the gulfs that would arise between -him and her—the dangers, the perils, the sorrows, they -two must taste. And even as he strode along, acknowledging -to his own soul that he was Neva’s lover, Neva -was speeding across the pleasant country toward the -home where her enemy awaited her with schemes perfected, -and an evil heart hidden under a smiling face.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[79]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE SON OF THE HONORABLE CRAVEN BLACK.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Upon the morning of the day on which Neva Wynde -and Lord Towyn so strangely encountered each other -upon the dingy packet-boat—an encounter that was destined -to be fateful—a scene transpired in one of the London -suburbs to which we would call the attention of the -reader.</p> - -<p>In an upper room, in one of the dingiest houses of one -of the dingiest crescents at New Brompton, a young man, -a mere youth, was engaged in painting a picture. The -room was bare and comfortless, with threadbare carpet, -decrepit and worn-out furniture, and springless sofa-bed—one -of the poorest rooms, in fact, a lodging-house of -the fourth rate can furnish. There were two windows -without curtains, and provided only with torn and faded -blue paper shades, rolled up and confined with cotton -cord. A few ashes were in the grate, showing that although -the season was summer, a fire had lately burned -there.</p> - -<p>The picture which the youth was painting stood upon -an easel before one of the windows, and was but little -better than a daub. It had been sketched by a bold and -vigorous hand, but was faulty in conception and ill-colored. -The light upon it was bad, and the hand that -wielded the brush was trembling and impatient, weakened -by fasting and emotions.</p> - -<p>The painter looked a mere boy, although he was full -twenty years of age. His complexion was florid, his -eyes hazel in hue, and he wore his brown hair long, artist -fashion, and tossed back from his high white forehead.<span class="pagenum">[80]</span> -He was handsome, with an honest look in his eyes, and -a pleasant mouth, but his chin was short, and weak in -its expression, and his countenance betrayed a character -full of good and noble impulses, yet with a weakness, -indecision, and irresolution that might yet prove fatal to -him.</p> - -<p>He was dressed in a shabby velveteen jacket, daubed -with paints and out at the elbows. His garments, like -his lodging, betrayed poverty of the most unmitigated -description.</p> - -<p>This young man was Rufus Black, the only son of -Craven Black who was Lady Wynde’s lover. And it -was Rufus Black whom his father and Lady Wynde had -planned should marry Neva Wynde, and thus play into -their hands, enabling them to possess themselves of a -portion of Neva’s noble fortune.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Black had said, he had quarrelled with his son -some weeks before, and cast him off, penniless and destitute -of friends, to shift for himself. He had drifted to -his present lodgings, and was trying to keep soul and -body together by painting wretched pictures, which he -sold to a general dealer for wretched pay.</p> - -<p>“The picture don’t suit me,” he said, pushing back his -chair, that he might get a better view of the painting. -“It’s only a daub, but it’s as good as the pay. I’ve been -three days at it, and it won’t bring me in even the fifteen -shillings I got for the last. It will do to stop up a -chimney-place, I suppose—and I had such grand ideas -of my art, and of my talents! I meant to achieve fame -and fortune, and here I am without food or fuel, with -the rent due, and with my soul so fettered by these cares, -so borne down by despair and remorse, that I am incapable -of work. I am gone to the dogs, as my father -told me to go—but, oh, why did I not travel the downward<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> -road alone? Why must I drag <em>her</em> down with -me?”</p> - -<p>A despairing look gathered on his face; the tears filled -his eyes; a sob escaped him. He looked haggard, worn -and despairing. He was in no condition for work, yet -he resumed his task with blinded eyes, and painted on -at random with feverish haste.</p> - -<p>He had grown somewhat calmer, with the calmness of -an utter despair, when the door opened, and a girl came -in bearing a large basket heavily loaded. She was a -slender young creature, not more than seventeen years -old, and her pale face and narrow chest betrayed a tendency -to consumption. Her complexion was of a clear -olive tint; her hair was of a blue-black color, and was -worn in braids; her eyes were dark and loving, with an -appealing expression in them; and, despite the circumstances -of her lot, she maintained a hopeful, sunshiny -spirit and a sunshiny countenance.</p> - -<p>She was the young music-teacher for whose sake Rufus -Black had quarrelled with his father. She was the -last member of a large family who had all died of consumption. -She had lost her situation in a ladies’ school -about the time that Rufus had separated himself from -his father; and after the young man had abandoned his -parent, he had hastened to her and begged her to marry -him. He was full of hope, ambitious, determined to -achieve fame and fortune by his painter’s brush, and she -was weak and worn, sorrowful and nearly ill, and quite -penniless. Believing in his talents and ability to support -them both, she had accepted the refuge he offered -her, and one week after Craven Black had turned his -son adrift, the young pair were married, and moved into -their present dingy quarters.</p> - -<p>They had joined their poverty together, and soon discovered -that the achievement of fame and wealth was<span class="pagenum">[82]</span> -uphill work. Rufus was fresh from his university, -unused to work for his bread, and he had overrated his -talent for painting, as he presently discovered. He found -it hard work to sell his poor efforts, and he could not -paint enough at first to bring him in twenty shillings a -week. It was now three months since his marriage, and -one by one his books, his better articles of clothing, his -watch, and other trinkets, had been sold or pledged to -buy necessaries or pay the rent. Upon this morning -they had had no breakfast.</p> - -<p>“How big your eyes are, Rufus!” laughed the young -wife, throwing off her battered little hat. “You look as -if I had brought you some priceless treasure; but you -well may, for I have the nicest little breakfast we have -had for a week.”</p> - -<p>“Where did you get it?” inquired the young artist, -his thin cheeks flushing with an eagerness he would -have concealed. “Have you prevailed on the grocer to -give us credit?”</p> - -<p>“No, I could not do that,” and the young wife shook -her head. “I’m afraid his heart is as hard as the nether -mill-stone we read about. He thinks I’m a humbug—a -cheat! But our landlady, Mrs. McKellar, you know, has -faith in your picture, and I borrowed two shillings of -her. See what a sumptuous repast we shall have,” and -she proceeded to display the contents of her basket, -unpacking them swiftly. “Here’s two-pence worth of -coffee, a pennyworth of milk, a threepenny loaf, and a -superb rasher of ham of the kind described by the Irishman -as ‘a strake of fat and a strake of lane.’ And here’s -a bundle of wood to boil the coffee; and I’ve gone to -the extravagance of a sixpenny pot of jam, your appetite -is so delicate. And now for breakfast.”</p> - -<p>She piled her wood skillfully in the grate, put on her -coffee-pot and frying pan, and lighted her fire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[83]</span></p> - -<p>Then while her breakfast was cooking, she laid her -table with her scanty ware, and bustled about like an -incarnate sunbeam, and no one would have suspected -that she too was weak and hungry, and that she was -sick at heart and full of dread for the future.</p> - -<p>“So breakfast is provided for,” murmured Rufus -Black, in a tone in which it would have been hard to -tell which predominated, relief or bitterness. “I began -to fear we should fast to-day, as we did yesterday.”</p> - -<p>The young wife turned her rasher of ham in the pan, -and put her small allowance of coffee in the pot, before -she answered gravely:</p> - -<p>“Rufus, I think I might get another situation to teach -music. I have good references, you know. I don’t like -being so utterly dependent upon you. You have not -been used to work. I’m afraid we did very wrong in -getting married.”</p> - -<p>“What else could we do?” demanded Rufus Black. -“I could not see you working yourself to death, Lally, -when a little care would save you. You had to go out -of doors in all weathers, and you were going into a galloping -consumption. I expected to be able to support -you, but I’m only a useless fellow, after all. I thought I -had talent, but it has turned out like the fairy money—it -has turned to dead leaves at the moment of using it. -I have a university education, and would be thankful -for a situation as usher in a dame’s school. I am willing -to dig ditches, only I’m not strong enough. Oh, -Lally, little wife, what is to become of us?”</p> - -<p>Lally Black—she had been christened Lalla by her -romantic mother, after the heroine of Moore’s poem, but -her name had lost its romantic sound through years of -every-day use—approached her young husband, and -softly laid her cheek against his. She stroked his hand -gently as she said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[84]</span></p> - -<p>“It is I who am useless, Rufus. You ought to have -married a rich wife instead of a poor little music-teacher. -I’m afraid you’ll reproach me in your heart some day -for marrying you—there, there, dear boy! I did not -mean it. I know you will never regret our marriage, let -what will be the result!”</p> - -<p>She caressed him tenderly, and then hurried to the fire -intent upon her breakfast. The coffee was steaming, -and the ham was cooked. The busy little housewife -made a round of toast, and then announced that breakfast -was ready. Rufus drew up his chair to the table, -and Lally waited upon him, and was so gay and bright -and hopeful that he became infected with her spirit.</p> - -<p>But when the delicious breakfast was over he became -grave and haggard again, and bowed his face on his -hand and sat in silence, while she washed the dishes and -carefully put away the remnants of the meal. Then she -came to him and sat on his knee, and drew his hand -from his face, and whispered:</p> - -<p>“Rufus, is your father rich?”</p> - -<p>“He has some three or four hundred pounds a year—that’s -all,” answered Rufus. “Why do you ask?”</p> - -<p>“Could he not assist us a little, if he wished?” ventured -Lally. “I have no relative to apply to. I had a -great-aunt who married a rich man, and I think she -lives in London, but I don’t know her name, and she -probably never heard of me, so I can’t write or go to -her. Let us humble ourselves to your father, dear—”</p> - -<p>“To what purpose?” interposed Rufus half fiercely. -“My father is a mercenary, villainous—Don’t stop me, -Lally. I am telling the truth, if he <em>is</em> my father. Thank -God, I took after my poor mother. My father does not -know we are married, and I dare not tell him. If I fear -anybody in this world, I fear my father.”</p> - -<p>“But he must know some time of our marriage,”<span class="pagenum">[85]</span> -urged the young wife. “You make me afraid, dear, that -we did wrong in marrying. We are too young, and I had -to work for my living. Your father could never forgive -me, and accept me as his daughter. My family is of no -account, and yours is good. People think of all these -things, and you will be looked down upon for your unfortunate, -ill-starred marriage. Oh, Rufus, if we could -undo what we have done, it might be well for us.”</p> - -<p>The young husband endeavored to console his wife, -and he had brought back her bright hopefulness, when -the postman’s knock was heard on the street door. A -sudden hope thrilled them both. They listened breathlessly, -and not in vain. Presently the housemaid’s heavy -tread was heard on the stairs, and she entered the room, -bringing a letter.</p> - -<p>When she had departed, Rufus opened the letter, and -the young couple perused it together. It was dated -Wyndham village, and had been written by Craven -Black, and contained simply an announcement that the -father desired to be reconciled to his son; that he saw -a way in which he could make Rufus a rich man; and -he begged his son, if he also desired a reconciliation and -wealth, and was willing to submit himself to his father’s -will, to come to him at once by the earliest train. Between -the leaves of the letter was a ten-pound note.</p> - -<p>“You will go, of course?” cried the young wife -excitedly.</p> - -<p>“I wish I knew what he meant,” muttered Rufus -irresolutely.</p> - -<p>“He is your father, dear, and you will go,” urged -Lally. “For my sake, you will go. And Rufus, I beg -you to yield to his wishes. They will not be unreasonable, -I am sure. Say you will go!”</p> - -<p>Rufus hesitated. He knew that when with his father, -he was a coward without a will of his own. What if he<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> -should be driven into some act he should hereafter repent? -Yet at last he consented to go to his father, and -an hour later he divided his money with his wife, giving -her the larger share, and took his departure. At that -last moment a horrible misgiving came over him, and -he ran back and kissed the little sunshiny face he loved, -and then he went out again and made his way to the -station, with a death-like pall upon his soul.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A KNOT SUMMARILY SEVERED.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Rufus Black’s heart grew heavier still, and his sense -of dread deepened, as he steamed down to Canterbury -in the express train. He had a seat by a window in a -second-class compartment in which were four other passengers, -but he was as much alone as if he had had the -compartment to himself. His travelling companions -chatted and laughed and jested among themselves, while -he looked from his window upon hop-gardens, green -fields, and clustering hamlets, with sad, unseeing eyes, -and thought of his poverty, his friendlessness, and the -slow starvation that lay before him and his young wife.</p> - -<p>“I could bear it for myself,” he thought bitterly. -“But it is hard to see Lally suffer, and I know she does -suffer, although she seems so light-hearted and brave. -My poor little wife! Ah, what place have I in the -world of gay idlers and strong workers? I am neither -the one nor the other. What is to be the end of it -all?”</p> - -<p>He looked enviously at the workers in a brick-yard<span class="pagenum">[87]</span> -the train was passing at that moment. There were men -there, coarse and ignorant, but brawny of limb and -broad of chest; and there were children too, boys and -girls of tender years, working steadily for scanty pay; -but they were all workers, and they looked stolidly contented -with their lot.</p> - -<p>“With all my university education,” thought the boy -artist bitterly, “I am less capable of self-support than -those ignorant brick-makers. Why did my father bring -me up with expensive tastes and like the heir of fine estates, -only to cast me off to starve at the first moment -I displeased him? What is the empty name of gentleman -worth, if one cannot keep it and be a worker? If -he had put me to some trade, I should not have been -half so miserable to-day. I am only twenty years old, -and my life is a failure at the outset.”</p> - -<p>The train swept on through new scenes, and the -course of the young man’s musings was changed, but -their bitterness remained in full strength.</p> - -<p>“I wonder what my father can want of me,” he said -to himself presently. “How can he put me in the way -of a fortune? He promised that I should study law, -but he has forgotten the promise. With a profession to -depend upon, I know I could win a competence. Perhaps -it is to speak of this he has sent for me this morning. -He surely cannot mean for me,” and the young -man’s brow darkened, “to become a gambler, as he has -been? I shall refuse, if he proposes it. For my innocent -Lally’s sake, I will keep myself pure of his vices.”</p> - -<p>This resolution was strong within him when he -alighted from the train at Canterbury and took a hansom -cab to Wyndham village. The drive of several -miles was occupied with speculations as to what his -father wanted of him, and with thoughts of his young -wife in her dingy lodgings at New Brompton, and he<span class="pagenum">[88]</span> -did not even notice the houses, farms and villas they -passed, nor any feature of the scenery, until the horse -slackened his speed to a walk, and the driver opened -his small trap in the roof, and said:</p> - -<p>“The house yonder on the ridge, sir, is Hawkhurst, -the seat of the Wynde family. Sir Harold Wynde died -in India a year ago, you know, sir, and the property belongs -to his only child, a daughter. A mile or so beyond -is Wyndham village.”</p> - -<p>Rufus Black turned his gaze upon the fair domain of -the Wyndes. It lay on both sides of the highway, -stretching as far as his eye could reach. The grand old -mansion of gray stone, with outlying houses of glass -glittering in the summer sunshine like immense jewels, -the great lawns, the gardens, the park, the cool woods, -all these made up one of the fairest pictures the eyes of -Rufus Black had ever rested upon.</p> - -<p>“How glorious!” he said involuntarily. “And it all -belongs to a lady!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, a mere girl,” replied the cabman. “She is -at school in France. It’s a great place, is Hawkhurst.”</p> - -<p>He dropped the trap and urged on his horse, but -Rufus continued to look upon the house and estate with -great, envious eyes. Why should all this belong to one, -and that one a mere girl, while he wanted for bread? -His soul was convulsed with bitterness and repining, -and the shadow of his trouble rested upon his face.</p> - -<p>A few minutes of brisk driving brought them to Wyndham -village, which consisted merely of one long straggling -street, lined with houses and gardens. In the -very centre of the street, upon four corners formed by -the intersection of a country road, was gathered the -business portion of the hamlet. Upon the corner was -the village smithy, from whose open door came the ringing -sound of hammer upon anvil. A group of countrymen<span class="pagenum">[89]</span> -were gathered about the door of the smithy, and a -few carts stood before it on the paved street. Upon a -second corner was a general shop and postoffice in one. -Upon a third corner was a rival establishment, of the -same description, but without the advantage and prestige -of the postoffice, and on the fourth corner stood the -Wyndham Inn, with its swinging sign, ample court-yard -and hospitable look.</p> - -<p>It was an old stone building, with a wide portico in -front, on which were tables and chairs. Rufus Black -was driven into the court, and sprang out of the cab, at -the same moment that the portly, rubicund landlord -came out to receive him. The young man inquired for -his father, and was informed that he was in his rooms at -the inn. Rufus paid and dismissed the cabman, and -followed the landlord into the inn.</p> - -<p>He was conducted up a flight of uncarpeted stairs, -and the landlord pointed out to him the door of a front -chamber as the one at which he was to knock. Rufus -quietly lifted the latch and ushered himself into the -room, closing the door behind him.</p> - -<p>The room was a pleasant little country parlor, with -three casement windows, a faded carpet on the floor, -cane-seated furniture, and a jug of flowers on the mantel-shelf. -The sunlight streamed in, but its heat was tempered -by the delicious breeze. The Honorable Craven -Black was not in the room, but there were vestiges of -his occupancy on every side. Upon a small table stood -his massive dressing case with mirror and brushes -mounted in exquisitely carved ivory, and with boxes and -bottle-stoppers of finely chased and solid gold. All the -appointments of the large case were luxurious in the -extreme, and Rufus thought bitterly that the sum which -that Sybaritic affair had cost would be a fortune to him -in his own present destitution.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[90]</span></p> - -<p>A beautiful inlaid writing case, a tobacco jar of the -finest Sevres porcelain, a Turkish pipe mounted in gold -and amber, a liqueur case, and various other costly -trifles, were scattered lavishly about. The Honorable -Craven Black had never denied himself a luxury in his -life, and these things he carried with him wherever he -went, as necessary to his comfort and happiness.</p> - -<p>Rufus Black’s lips curled as he looked on these luxuries -and mentally calculated their cost. He was in the midst -of his calculation when the door of the adjoining bedroom -was opened from within, and his father came out, -habited in slippers and dressing-gown, and with an Indian -embroidered cap of scarlet and gold poised lightly on his -fair head.</p> - -<p>His light eyes opened a little wider than usual as he -beheld his son, and his usual cynical smile showed itself -disagreeably around his white teeth.</p> - -<p>“So you’ve come at last, have you?” he exclaimed. -“I expected you yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“I received your letter this morning, soon after breakfast, -sir,” answered Rufus, “and I came on at once in the -express train. I have changed my lodgings from the one -you knew, and the letter was sent on from my old to my -new address.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black eyed his son critically, his cynical smile -deepening.</p> - -<p>“You have a general out-at-the-elbows look,” he observed. -“You’ve gone down hill since I threw you over. -You look hungry and desperate!”</p> - -<p>“I am both,” was the reply, in a reckless tone. “And -I have reason to be. I am starving!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black flung himself into the only easy chair the -room afforded, and made a gesture to his son to be seated -upon the couch. Rufus obeyed.</p> - -<p>“You are in the mood I hoped to find you,” declared<span class="pagenum">[91]</span> -the father, with a disagreeable laugh. “Desperate—starving! -That is better than I expected. What has -become of all your fine anticipations of wealth and fortune -achieved with your brush? You do not find it easy -to paint famous pictures?”</p> - -<p>“I mistook my desires for ability,” cried Rufus, his -eyes darkening with the pain of his confession. “I have -a liking for painting, and I fancied that liking was genius. -I find myself crippled by not knowing how to do anything -well. My pictures bring me in fifteen shillings -apiece, and cost me three days’ work. I could earn more -at brick-making—if I only knew how to make bricks. -When you sent me to the university, father, you said I -should study a profession. I demand of you the fulfilment -of that promise. I want some way to earn my -living!”</p> - -<p>“Better get a living without work,” said Mr. Black -coolly. “I don’t like work, and I don’t believe you do. -You want to study law, but your talents are not transcendent, -my son—you will never sit upon the woolsack.”</p> - -<p>“If I can earn two hundred pounds a year, I will ask -nothing more,” said Rufus bitterly. “I have discovered -for myself that my abilities are mediocre. I shall never -be great as anything—unless as a failure! But if I can -only glide along in the great stream of mediocre people, -and be nothing above or below them, I shall be content!”</p> - -<p>“And you say this at twenty years old?” cried his -father mockingly. “You talk like one of double your -years. Where have your hopefulness, your bright dreams, -your glowing anticipations, gone? You must have had -a hard experience in the last three months, to be willing -to settle down into a hard-working drudge!”</p> - -<p>“My experience <em>has</em> been hard.”</p> - -<p>“I believe you. You look beaten out, worn out, discouraged.<span class="pagenum">[92]</span> -Now, Rufus, I have sent for you that I may -make your fortune as well as mine. There is a grand -prospect opening before you, and you can be one of the -richest men in England, if you choose to be sensible. -But you must obey my orders.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot promise that before knowing what you -demand,” said the son, his face clouding. “I have no -sympathy with your manner of life, father. If you had -not the advantage of titled connections, and did not -bear the title of ‘Honorable,’ you would be called an -adventurer. You know you would. I want nothing to -do with your ways of life. I will not be a gambler—not -for all the wealth in England!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t refuse till you are asked,” said Mr. Black -harshly. “Don’t imagine that I want to corrupt your -fine principles by making a gambler of you. I am no -gamester, even though I play at cards. I play only as -gentlemen play. The game I have in hand for you is -easily played, if you have but ordinary skill. I can -make you master of one of the finest estates in England, -if you but say the word!”</p> - -<p>“Honorably? Can you do it honorably?” cried Rufus -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Certainly. I would not propose anything dishonorable -to one of your nice sense of honor,” said Mr. Black, -with sarcastic emphasis.</p> - -<p>“What is it you would have me do?”</p> - -<p>“You are young, enthusiastic, well looking and well -educated,” said Mr. Black, without paying heed to his -son’s questions. “In short, you are fitted to the business -I have in hand. I intended to give you a professional -education, but if you obey me you won’t want it, and if -you do not obey me you may go to the dogs. I suppose -your poverty has driven that little low-born music -teacher out of your head?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[93]</span></p> - -<p>“What has she to do with this business?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing whatever. I want to make sure that you -are well rid of her, but perhaps it would be as well to -leave her name out of the question. You say you are -starving. Now, if you will solemnly promise to obey -me, I will advance you fifty pounds to-day, with which -you can fit up your wardrobe and gratify any luxurious -desires you may have.”</p> - -<p>Rufus Black’s eyes sparkled.</p> - -<p>“Speak,” he said impatiently. “I am desperately -poor. I would do almost anything for fifty pounds. -What do you want done?”</p> - -<p>Again Craven Black laughed softly, well pleased with -his son’s mood.</p> - -<p>“Did you see Hawkhurst as you came?” he asked, with -seeming irrelevancy. “It’s one of the grandest places in -Kent.”</p> - -<p>“I saw it. The driver pointed it out to me.”</p> - -<p>“How did it look to you?”</p> - -<p>“Like heaven.”</p> - -<p>“How would you like to be master of that heaven?”</p> - -<p>Rufus stared at his father with wide, incredulous -eyes.</p> - -<p>“You are chaffing me,” said the young man, his countenance -falling.</p> - -<p>“I am in serious earnest. The owner of Hawkhurst -is a young girl, who is expected home from school to-day. -She has lived the life of a nun in her French school, and -does not know one young man from another. She will -be beset with suitors immediately, and the one who -comes first stands the best chance of winning her. I -want you to make love to her and marry her.”</p> - -<p>Rufus Black’s face paled. The suggestion nearly -overcame him. The project looked stupendous, chimerical.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[94]</span></p> - -<p>“I wondered that you should be down here at Wyndham, -father,” he said, “and I suppose you are here because -you had formed some design upon this young -heiress. Do you know her?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I know her step-mother, who is her personal -guardian,” explained Craven Black. “Do you remember -the handsome widow, Mrs. Hathaway, whom you -saw once at the theatre in my charge? She married Sir -Harold Wynde. He died in India last year, leaving her -well-jointured. I came down to see her the other day, -and it seems she remembers me with her old affection. -In short, Rufus, I am engaged to marry Lady Wynde, -and the wedding is to take place in October. She is her -step-daughter’s guardian, as I said, and will have unbounded -influence to back up your suit. The field is clear -before you. Go in and win!”</p> - -<p>Rufus grew yet paler, and his voice was hoarse as he -asked:</p> - -<p>“And this is your scheme for making me rich?”</p> - -<p>“It is. The girl has a clear income of seventy thousand -pounds a year. As her husband, you will be a man -of consequence. She owns a house in town, a hunting -box in the Scottish Highlands, and other houses in England. -You will have horses and hounds; a yacht, if -you wish it, at your marine villa, and a bottomless purse. -You can paint wretched pictures, and hear the fashionable -world praise them as divine. You can become a -member of Parliament. All careers are open to the fortunate -suitor of Neva Wynde.”</p> - -<p>The picture was dazzling enough to the half-starved -and desperate boy. He liked all these things his father -enumerated—the houses, the horses, the luxuries, the -money, and the luxurious ease and the honors. He had -found it hard to work, and harder to dispose of his -work. All the bitterness and hardness of his lot arose<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> -before him in black contrast with the brightness and -beauty that would mark the destiny of the favored lover -of young Neva Wynde.</p> - -<p>He arose and walked the floor with an impetuous -tread, an expression of keen anguish and keener longing -in his eyes. His father watched him with a furtive -gaze, as a cat watches a mouse. It was necessary to his -plans that his son should marry Neva Wynde, and he -was sanguine that he would be able to bring about the -match.</p> - -<p>“Well?” he said, tiring of the quick, impetuous walk -of his son. “What do you say?”</p> - -<p>“It is impossible!” returned Rufus abruptly. “Utterly -impossible.”</p> - -<p>“And why, if I may be allowed to ask?” inquired Mr. -Black blandly, although a scowl began to gather on his -fair forehead.</p> - -<p>“Because—because—the young lady may have other -designs for herself—I can’t marry her for her money—I -can’t give up Lally!”</p> - -<p>“The—the young person who taught music? I understood -you to say that she was a corn-chandler’s daughter. -And you prefer a low-born, low-bred creature to a -wealthy young lady like Miss Wynde? For a young -man educated as you have been, your good taste is remarkable. -You have a predilection for high-class society, -I must say. What is the charm of this not-to-be-given-up -‘Lally?’ Is she beautiful?”</p> - -<p>“She is beautiful to me.”</p> - -<p>“Which means that she is beautiful to no one else. -The beauty which requires love’s spectacles to distinguish, -is ugliness to every one but the lover. Low-born -and low-bred,” repeated Mr. Black, dwelling upon the -words as if they pleased him, “with a pack of poor and -ignorant relations tacked to her skirts, ugly by your<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> -own confession, what a brilliant match she would be for -the son of the Honorable Craven Black!”</p> - -<p>“She has no poor relations,” said Rufus hotly. “She -has no relations except a great-aunt, whose name she -does not know, and who very likely does not dream of -her existence. It is true that Lally’s father was a corn-chandler, -but he was an honest one, and more than that, -he was an intelligent, upright gentlemen. You arch -your brows, as if a man could not be a tradesman and a -gentleman. If the word gentleman has any meaning, he -was a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“I do not care to discuss the subtle meaning of words; -I am willing to accept them at the valuation society -puts upon them. The pedigree of ‘Lally’ is of no interest -to me. I merely want to know if you mean to marry -Neva Wynde and be rich, or marry your ‘Lally’ and -starve. And if you are willing to starve yourself, are -you willing to have ‘Lally’ starve also? With your fine -ideas of honor, I wonder you can wish to drag that girl -into a marriage that will be to her but a slow death.”</p> - -<p>A groan burst from the youth’s lips. He wrung his -hands weakly, while the secret of his marriage trembled -on his tongue. But he dared not tell it. He was afraid -of his father with a deadly fear, and more than that, he -had yet some hope of receiving assistance from his -parent.</p> - -<p>“I cannot give her up, father,” he said hoarsely. “I -beg you to help me in some way, and let me go. You -are not rich, I know, but you have influence. You could -get me a situation under government, in the Home office, -Somerset House, or as secretary to some nobleman. If -you will do this for me, I will bless you while I live. -Oh, father, be merciful to me. Give me a little help, -and let me go my ways.”</p> - -<p>“By Heaven, I will not. If you cling to that girl, you<span class="pagenum">[97]</span> -shall have not one penny from me, not one word of recommendation. -You can drift to the hospital, or the -alms-house, and I will not raise a finger to help you! I -will not even give one farthing to save you from a pauper’s -burial. I swear it!”</p> - -<p>Craven Black uttered the oath in a tone of utter implacability, -and Rufus knew that the heavens would sooner -fall than his father would relent. A despair seized upon -him, and again he wrung his hands, as he cried out recklessly:</p> - -<p>“I <em>must</em> cling to her, father. Cast me off if you will, -curse me as you choose—but Lally is my wife!”</p> - -<p>Craven Black was stupefied for the moment. An apoplectic -redness suffused his face, and his eyes gleamed -dangerously.</p> - -<p>“Your wife? Your wife?” he muttered, scarcely knowing -that he spoke.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she is my wife,” declared Rufus, his voice gathering -firmness. “I married her three months ago. We -have been starving together in a garret at New Brompton. -Oh, father—”</p> - -<p>“Not one word! Married to that girl? I will not -believe it. Have you a marriage certificate?”</p> - -<p>“I have. Here it is,” and Rufus drew from his -pocket-book a slender folded paper. “Read it, and you -will see that I tell the truth. Lally Bird is my wife!”</p> - -<p>Craven Black took the paper and perused it with -strange deliberation, the apoplectic redness still suffusing -his face. When he had finished, he deliberately tore -the marriage certificate into shreds. Rufus uttered a -cry, and sprang forward to seize the precious document, -but his father waved him back with a gesture of stern -command.</p> - -<p>“Poor fool!” said the elder man. “The destruction<span class="pagenum">[98]</span> -of this paper would not affect the validity of your marriage, -if it were valid. But it is not valid.”</p> - -<p>“Not valid.”</p> - -<p>“No; you and the girl are both minors. A marriage -of minors without consent of parents and guardians is -not binding. The girl is not your wife!”</p> - -<p>“But she is my wife. We were married in church—”</p> - -<p>“That won’t make the marriage binding. You are a -minor, and so is she. She had no one to consult, but -you married without my consent, and that fact will render -the marriage null and void. More than this,” and -Mr. Black’s eyes sparkled wickedly, “you have committed -perjury. You obtained your marriage license by declaring -yourself of age, and you will not become of age -under some months. Do you know what the punishment -is for perjury. It is imprisonment, disgrace, a -striped suit, and prison fare.”</p> - -<p>The young man looked appalled.</p> - -<p>“Who would prosecute me?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“<em>I</em> would. You have got yourself in a tight box, young -man. Your marriage is null and void, and you have -committed perjury. Now I will offer you your choice -between two alternatives. You can make love to Miss -Wynde and marry her, and be somebody. Or, if you refuse, -I will prosecute you for perjury, will have you sent -to prison, and will brand that girl with a name that will -fix her social station for life. Take your choice.”</p> - -<p>Craven Black meant every word he said, and Rufus -knew that he meant it. The young fellow shuddered and -trembled, and then broke into a wild appeal for mercy, -but his father turned a deaf ear to his anguished -cry.</p> - -<p>“You have my decision,” he said coldly. “I shall not -reconsider it. The girl is not your wife, and when she -knows her position she will fly from you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[99]</span></p> - -<p>Rufus groaned in his anguish. He knew well the pure -soul of his young wife, and he felt that she would not remain -in any position that was equivocal, even though to -leave him might break her heart. The disgrace, the terror, -the poverty of his lot, nearly crushed him to the -earth.</p> - -<p>“What is your answer to be?” demanded Mr. -Black.</p> - -<p>The poor young fellow sat down and covered his face -with his hands. He was terribly frightened, and the inherent -weakness and cowardice of his character, otherwise -full of noble traits, proved fatal to him now. He -gasped out:</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t know. I must have time to think. It is all -so strange—so terrible.”</p> - -<p>“You can have all day in which to consider the matter. -I have engaged a bedroom for you on the opposite side -of the hall. I will show you to it, and you can think the -matter over in solitude.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black arose and conducted his son across the hall -to a bedroom overlooking the street and the four corners, -and here, with a last repetition of the two alternatives -offered him, he left him.</p> - -<p>Poor Rufus, weak and despairing, locked the door and -dropped upon his knees, sobbing aloud in the extremity -of his anguish.</p> - -<p>“What shall I do? What can I do?” he moaned. “She -is not my wife. My poor Lally! And I am helpless in -my father’s hands. I shall have to yield—I feel it—I -know it. I wish I were dead. Oh, my poor wronged -Lally!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[100]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">NEVA AT HOME AGAIN.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The home coming of the heiress of Hawkhurst was far -different from that which her father had once lovingly -planned for her when looking forward to her emancipation -from school. There was no sign of festivity about -the estate, no gathering of tenants to a feast, no dancing -on the lawn, no floral arches, no music, no gladness of -welcome. The carriage containing Neva Wynde and -Mrs. Artress, and attended by liveried servants, turned -quietly into the lodge gates, halted a moment while Neva -spoke to the lodge keepers, whom she well remembered, -and then slowly ascended the long shaded drive toward -the house.</p> - -<p>Neva looked around her with kindling eyes. The fair -green lawn with its patches of sunshine and shade, the -close lying park with the shy deer browsing near the invisible -wire fence that separated the park from the lawn, -the odors of the flower gardens, all these were inexpressibly -sweet to her after her years of absence from her -home.</p> - -<p>“Home again!” she murmured softly. “Although those -who made it the dearest spot in all the world to me are -gone, yet still it is home. No place has charms for me -like this.”</p> - -<p>The carriage swept up under the high-pointed arch of -the lime trees, and drew up in the porch, where the -ladies alighted. Artress led the way into the house, and -Neva followed with a springing step and a wildly beating -heart.</p> - -<p>The great baronial hall was not brightened with<span class="pagenum">[101]</span> -flowers or green boughs. The oaken floor, black as -ebony, was polished like jet. The black, wainscoted -walls, hung with ancient pictures, glittering shields, a -few fowling pieces, a stag’s head with antlers, an ancient -boar’s head, and other treasures, was wide, cool and -hospitable. No servants were gathered here, although -Neva looked for them and was disappointed in not seeing -them. Most of the servants had been at Hawkhurst -for many years, and Neva regarded them as old friends.</p> - -<p>It had been the wish of the butler and housekeeper to -marshal their subordinates in the great hall to welcome -their young mistress, but Lady Wynde, hearing of their -design, had peremptorily forbidden it, with the remark -that until she came of age, Miss Wynde would not be -mistress of Hawkhurst. And therefore no alternative -had remained for the butler and housekeeper but to -smother their indignation and submit to Lady Wynde’s -decree.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Artress flung open the door of the drawing-room -with an excessive politeness and said:</p> - -<p>“Be kind enough to enter, Miss Wynde, and make -yourself comfortable while I inform Lady Wynde of -your arrival.”</p> - -<p>“I am not a guest in my own home, and I decline to -be treated as one,” said Neva quietly. “I presume -my rooms are ready, and I will go up to them immediately.”</p> - -<p>“I am not positive,” said Artress hesitatingly, “as to -the rooms Lady Wynde has ordered to be made ready -for your use. I will ring and see.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, but I won’t put you to the trouble. I shall -resume possession of my old rooms, whatever rooms -may have been made ready,” said Neva half haughtily.</p> - -<p>Her cheeks burned with a sense of indignation and -annoyance at the strangeness of her reception. She<span class="pagenum">[102]</span> -had not wished for the rejoicings her father had once -planned for her, but she had entered her own house precisely -as some hireling might have done, with no one to -receive or greet her, no one to care if she had come. -She turned away to ascend the stairs, but paused with -her foot on the lowest step as a door at the further -end of the hall opened, and the housekeeper, rosy and rotund, -with cap ribbons flying, came rushing forward with -outstretched arms.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear Miss Neva,” cried the good woman, -who had known and loved the baronet’s daughter from -her birth. “Welcome home, my sweet lamb! How -you have grown—so tall, so beautiful, so bright and -sweet!”</p> - -<p>“You dear old Hopper!” exclaimed Neva, springing -forward and embracing the good woman with girlish -fervor. “I began to think I must have entered a strange -house. I am so glad to see you!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Artress looked upon this little scene with an air -of disgust, and with a little sniff hastened up the stairs -to the apartments of Lady Wynde.</p> - -<p>“Your rooms are ready, Miss Neva,” said Mrs. Hopper—“your -old rooms. I made sure you wanted them -again, because poor Sir Harold furnished them new for -you only four years ago. I will go with you up stairs.”</p> - -<p>Neva led the way, tripping lightly up the broad steps, -and flitting along the wide upper hall.</p> - -<p>Her rooms comprised a suit opposite those of Lady -Wynde. Neva opened the door of her sitting-room and -went in. The portly old butler was arranging wreaths -of flowers about the pictures and statuettes, but turned -as the young girl came in, and welcomed her with an -admixture of warmth and respectfulness that were pleasant -to witness. Then he took his basket of cuttings and -withdrew, the tears of joy flooding his honest eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[103]</span></p> - -<p>The girl’s sitting-room had been transformed by the -loving forethought of the butler into a very bower of -beauty. The carpet was of a pale azure hue starred -with arbutus blossoms, and the furniture was upholstered -in blue silk of the same delicate tint. The pictures on -the walls were all choice and framed in gilt, and with -their wreaths of odorous blossoms, gave a fairy brightness -to the room. The silvermounted grate was crowded -thickly with choice flowers from the conservatory, whose -colors of white and blue were here and there relieved -with scarlet blossoms like living coals. The wide French -windows, opening upon a balcony, were open.</p> - -<p>“Ah, this is home!” said Neva, sinking down upon a -silken couch, and looking out of one of the windows -upon the lawn. “I am glad to be back again, Hopper, -but it’s a sad home coming. Poor Papa!”</p> - -<p>“Poor Sir Harold!” echoed the housekeeper, wiping -her eyes. “If he could only have lived to see you grown -up, Miss Neva. It was dreadful that he should have -been taken as he was. I can’t somehow get over the -shock of his death.”</p> - -<p>“I shall never get over it!” murmured Neva softly.</p> - -<p>“I am making you cry the first thing after your return,” -exclaimed Mrs. Hopper, in self-reproach. “I hope -those tears are not a bad omen for you, Miss Neva. I -have arranged your rooms,” she added, “as they used to -be, and if they are not right you have only to say so. -You are mistress of Hawkhurst now. Did you bring a -maid from Paris, Miss Neva?”</p> - -<p>“No, Mrs. Artress said it was not necessary, and my -maid at school did not wish to leave France. Mrs. Artress -said that Lady Wynde had engaged a maid for -me.”</p> - -<p>“Her ladyship intended to give you her own maid, -but I made bold to engage your old attendant, Meggy<span class="pagenum">[104]</span> -West, and she is in your bedroom now. She is wild -with joy at the prospect of serving you again.”</p> - -<p>Neva remembered the girl Meggy with pleasure, and -said so.</p> - -<p>“I had dreaded having a strange attendant,” she said. -“You were very thoughtful, Hopper. I suppose I ought -to dress at once. Since Lady Wynde did not meet me -at the door, she evidently means to be ceremonious, and -I must conform to her wishes. I am impatient to see -my step-mother, Hopper. Is she as good as she is handsome?”</p> - -<p>“I am not fond of Lady Wynde, Miss Neva,” replied -the housekeeper, coloring. “Her ways are different from -any I have been accustomed to, but you must judge of -her for yourself. Sir Harold just worshiped the ground -she walked on.”</p> - -<p>Neva did not pursue her questioning, comprehending -that Lady Wynde was not adored by the housekeeper, -whoever else might admire her. The young girl was -not one to gossip with servants, nor even with Mrs. -Hopper, who was lady by birth and education, and she -dropped the subject. Soon after Mrs. Hopper withdrew, -and Neva went into her bedroom.</p> - -<p>She found here the maid who had attended her before -she had left home, and who was now to resume service -with her. The girl was about her own age, bright-eyed -and red-cheeked, hearty and wholesome, the daughter -of one of the Hawkhurst tenants. Neva greeted her so -kindly as to revive the girl’s old affection for her with -added fervor, and, Neva’s trunks having arrived, the -process of the toilet was at once entered upon.</p> - -<p>The dress of the heiress of Hawkhurst was exceedingly -simple, but she looked very lovely when fully attired. -She wore a dress and overskirt of white Swiss -muslin, trimmed with puffs and ruffles. A broad black<span class="pagenum">[105]</span> -sash was tied around her waist, with a big bow and ends -at the back. Ear-rings, bracelets, and brooch of jet, -were her ornaments.</p> - -<p>The housekeeper sent up a tempting lunch, and after -partaking of it Neva went down stairs to the great drawing-room, -but it was untenanted. She stood in the large -circular window and looked out upon the cool depths of -the park, and became absorbed in thought. More than -half an hour thus passed, and Neva was beginning to -wonder that no one came to her, when the rustling of -silk outside the door was heard, and Lady Wynde came -sweeping into the room.</p> - -<p>Her ladyship presented a decidedly striking appearance. -She had laid aside the last vestige of her mourning -garments, and wore a long maize-colored robe of -heavy silk, with ornaments of rubies. Her brunette -beauty was admirably enhanced by her attire, and Neva -thought she had never seen a woman more handsome or -more imposing.</p> - -<p>Behind Lady Wynde came Artress, clad in soft gray -garb, as usual, and making an excellent foil to her employer.</p> - -<p>“Lady Wynde, this is Miss Wynde,” said the gray -companion, in her soft, cloying voice.</p> - -<p>Neva came forward, frank and sweet, offering her -hand to her step-mother. Lady Wynde touched it with -two fingers, and stooping, kissed the girl’s forehead.</p> - -<p>“You are welcome home, Neva,” she said graciously. -“I am glad to see you, my dear. I began to think we -should never meet. Why, how tall you are—not at all -the little girl I expected to see.”</p> - -<p>“I am eighteen, you may remember, Lady Wynde,” -returned Neva quietly. “One is not usually very small -at that age.”</p> - -<p>Her ladyship surveyed her step-daughter with keen<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> -scrutiny. She had already heard Artress’ account of the -voyage home from Calais, and of Neva’s meeting with -Lord Towyn, and she was anxious to form some idea of -the girl’s character.</p> - -<p>She saw in the first moment that here was not the insipid, -“bread-and-butter school girl” she had expected. -The frank, lovely face, so bright and piquant, was full of -character, and the red-brown eyes bravely uplifted betrayed -a soul awake and resolute. Neva’s glances were -as keen as her own, and Lady Wynde had an uncomfortable -impression that her step-daughter was reading her -true character.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, my dear,” she said, somewhat disconcerted. -“Artress has been telling me about your voyage. Artress -is my friend and companion, as I wrote you, and -has lived with me so many years that I have learned to -regard her as a sister. I hope you will be friends with -her. She is an excellent mentor to thoughtless youth.”</p> - -<p>Neva bowed, but the smile that played for an instant -on her saucy lips was not encouraging to the would-be -“mentor.”</p> - -<p>“I shall try not to trouble her,” she said, smiling, -“although I shall always be glad to receive advice from -my father’s wife. I trust that you and I will be friends, -Lady Wynde, for poor papa’s sake.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde sat down beside her step-daughter. -Artress retreated to a recessed window, and took up her -usual embroidery. Neva exerted herself to converse -with her step-mother, and was soon conscious of a feeling -of disappointment in her. She felt that Lady -Wynde was insincere, a hypocrite, and a double-dealer, -and she experienced a sense of uneasiness in her presence. -Could this be the wife her father had adored? -she asked herself. And then she accused herself of injustice -and harsh judgment, believing that her father<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> -could not have been so mistaken in the character of his -wife, and in atonement for her unfavorable opinion she -was very gentle, and full of deference. Lady Wynde -congratulated herself upon having won her step-daughter’s -good opinion after all.</p> - -<p>“I must acquire a thorough control and unbounded -influence over her,” she thought. “But how can I do -it? If her father had only left her stronger injunctions -to sacrifice everything to my wishes, I think she would -obey the injunctions as if a voice spoke to her from the -grave. She will obey in all things reasonable—I can -see that. But if she has formed a liking for Lord -Towyn, how am I to compel her to marry Rufus -Black?”</p> - -<p>The question occupied her attention even while she -talked with Neva. It made her thoughtful through the -dinner hour, and silent afterward. Neva was tired, and -went to her own rooms for the night soon after dinner, -and Lady Wynde and Artress talked together for a -long time in low tones.</p> - -<p>“I have it!” said her ladyship exultantly, at last. “I -have a brilliant idea, Artress, that will make this girl my -bond-slave. But I shall need the cooperation of Craven. -I must see him this very evening. It is strange he does -not come—”</p> - -<p>“He is here,” said the gray companion, as the house -door clanged and heavily shut. “I will go to my room.”</p> - -<p>She slipped like a shadow down the long triple drawing-room -and out at one door, as the Honorable Craven -Black was ushered in at the other. Lady Wynde rose -to receive him, welcoming him with smiles, and presently -she unfolded to him the scheme she had just conceived, -and the two conspirators proceeded to discuss -it and amplify it, and prepare it for the ensnarement of -the baronet’s daughter.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[108]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">LADY WYNDE’S IDEA ACTED UPON.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was still early upon the evening of Neva’s return -to Hawkhurst when Craven Black took his leave of the -handsome widow and set out upon his walk to Wyndham. -The summer night was filled with a light, pleasant -gloom; and the songs of the nightingales, the chirping -and drumming of insects in the Hawkhurst park -and plantations, made the air musical. But Craven -Black gave no heed to these things as he strode along -over the hilly road. His mind was busy with the -scheme that had been suggested to him that evening by -Lady Wynde, and as he hurried along, he muttered:</p> - -<p>“It’s a good idea, if well worked out. But there’s no -finesse in it. It’s too simple, if it has any fault. And -the girl may see through it, although that’s not likely. -People who are guileless themselves are not apt to suspect -guile in others. We shall have no difficulty with -her. The only one who can balk our plans is that obstinate -boy of mine, whom I have not seen since he shut -himself up in his chamber. I must know his decision -before I move a step further in this business. Of course -he will yield to me; he has never dared pit his will -against mine, and say to my face that he would not -obey me. Poor weak coward! If he dares cling to -that girl he married, I’ll risk the exposure and disgrace, -and have the marriage legally set aside on the ground -of his minority. By Heaven, if he dares to beard me, -he shall find me a very tiger!”</p> - -<p>He set his teeth together and his breath came hissingly -between them as he strode heavily along the village<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> -street and approached the Wyndham inn. He saw -that his own rooms were lighted, and that the room -that he had assigned his son was dark. The fear came -to him that Rufus had stolen away and returned to his -young wife with the mad idea of flying with her, and, -with a muttered curse upon the boy, he hurried into the -inn and sped swiftly up the stairs, halting at his son’s -door, with his hand on the knob.</p> - -<p>It did not yield to his touch. The door was locked -from within. Rufus must be within that darkened -chamber, and as this conviction came to him Craven -Black recovered all his coolness and self-possession. He -crossed the hall into his own room and procured a -lighted lamp, and then returned and knocked loudly on -his son’s door. No voice answered him. No sound -came from within the room.</p> - -<p>“Can he have committed suicide?” Craven Black -asked himself, with a sudden fluttering at his heart. -“He was desperate enough, but I hardly think he could -have been such a fool as that.”</p> - -<p>He shook the door loudly, but eliciting no reply, he -stooped to the key-hole, and cried, in a clear, hissing -whisper:</p> - -<p>“Rufus, open this door, or I’ll break it in! I’ll arouse -the whole house. Quick, I say! Be lively!”</p> - -<p>There was a faint stir within the room, as if a tortured -wild beast were sluggishly turning in his cage, -and then an unsteady step crossed the floor, and an -unsteady hand groped feebly about the door, seeking -the key. The bolt suddenly shot back, and then the -unsteady steps retreated a few paces.</p> - -<p>Craven Black opened the door and entered the room, -closing the portal behind him. He set down his lamp, -and his light eyes then sought out the form of his son.</p> - -<p>Rufus stood in the centre of the room, his eyes<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> -covered with one hand to shade them from the sudden -light, his figure drooping and abject, his head bowed to -his breast, his mouth white and drawn with lines of pain. -It seemed as if years had passed over his head since the -morning. It would have been scarcely possible to trace -in this spiritless, slouching figure, in this white, haggard -face, the boy artist who had left his young wife that -morning. All the brightness, elasticity and youth -seemed gone from him, leaving only a poor broken -wreck.</p> - -<p>The cynical smile that was so characteristic of Craven -Black’s countenance came back to his lips as he looked -upon his son. He read in the changed aspect of the -boy that he had achieved a victory over Rufus.</p> - -<p>“I have come for your decision, Rufus,” he said. -“What is it to be? Disgrace, imprisonment, a blasted -name? Or will you turn from your low-born adventuress -and accept the career I have marked out for you? -Speak!”</p> - -<p>The hand that shaded the artist’s eyes dropped, and -he looked at his father with a countenance so wan, so -woeful, so despairing, that a very demon might have -pitied him. Yet his father only smiled at what he -deemed the evidence of the lad’s weakness.</p> - -<p>“Oh, father,” said the young man hollowly, “will you -not have mercy upon me—upon <em>her</em>?”</p> - -<p>“None!” replied Craven Black curtly. “Again I -demand your choice!”</p> - -<p>Rufus wrung his hands in wild despair.</p> - -<p>“If I abandon her, what will become of her?” he -moaned. “She will die of starvation! My poor little -wife!”</p> - -<p>“Do not call her again by that title!” cried Craven -Black frowning. “Can you not comprehend that the -marriage is illegal—is null and void—that she is not your<span class="pagenum">[111]</span> -wife? When she hears the truth, she will turn from you -in loathing. As to her support, I will provide for her. -She shall not starve, as she will do if you are sent to -prison for perjury. For the last time I demand your -decision. Will you give up the girl peaceably, or will -you be forced to?”</p> - -<p>There was a moment of dead silence. Then the -answer came brokenly from the young man’s lips.</p> - -<p>“I—I give her up!” he muttered. “God help us -both!”</p> - -<p>“It is well,” declared Craven Black, more kindly. -“You could not do otherwise. You like the girl now, -but a year hence you will smile at your present folly. -Why should you fling away all your possibilities of -wealth and honor for a silly boyish fancy? Cheer up, -Rufus. Throw aside all that despair, and accept the -goods the gods provide you. The girl will marry some -one else, as you must do. Your future bride has arrived -at Hawkhurst, and to-morrow evening I shall take you -to call upon her. I suppose you have eaten nothing since -the morning, and your first need is supper.”</p> - -<p>He rang the bell vigorously, and to the servant who -came up gave an order for supper—to be served in his -own parlor. Taking up his lamp, and drawing his son’s -arm through his, he conducted Rufus to his own rooms, -and seated him in an easy-chair. The young man’s -head fell forward on his breast and he sat in silence, -but Craven Black, rendered good-natured by the success -of his schemes, talked at considerable length of the revenues -of Hawkhurst, and the perfections of Lady Wynde, -and of Neva, whom he had not yet seen.</p> - -<p>The supper of cold game was brought up, and Mr. -Black ordered two bottles of wine. Rufus refused to -eat, having, as he declared, no appetite, but he drank an -entire bottle of wine with a recklessness he had never<span class="pagenum">[112]</span> -before displayed, and was finally prevailed upon to take -food. When he had finished, he arose abruptly and retired -to his own chamber.</p> - -<p>The waiter removed the remains of the supper, and -Craven Black was left alone. He sat a little while in his -chair, with a complacent smile on his fair visage, and -then arose and locked his door, and brought forward his -small inlaid writing-desk and deposited it upon the -table.</p> - -<p>He produced from his pocket a small packet which -Lady Wynde had given him that evening, and opened -it. It contained a dozen sheets of note paper, of the style -Sir Harold had liked and had habitually used. It was a -heavy cream-colored vellum paper, unlined, and very -thick and smooth. Upon the upper half of the first page -was engraven in black and gold the baronet’s monogram -and crest, and below these to the right, in quaint black -and gold letters, were stamped the words, “Hawkhurst, -Kent.” It was upon paper like this that nearly all of Sir -Harold’s letters to his daughter had been written.</p> - -<p>A dozen square envelopes similarly adorned with crest -and monogram accompanied the paper; and a tiny vial -of a peculiar black ink, a half stick of bronze wax, Sir -Harold’s seal, and a half dozen letters, comprised the remaining -contents of the packet.</p> - -<p>The curtains were drawn across the windows, and Mr. -Black had carefully vailed the keyhole of his door, so he -leaned back in his chair, with a pleasant feeling of -security, and engaged in the study of the letters. -Five of them had been written by Sir Harold to his wife -during the early part of his visit to India, and bore the -Indian postmark. The sixth letter had been an enclosure -in one of those to Lady Wynde, and was addressed -to Neva. It had evidently been thus inclosed by Sir -Harold under the impression that Neva would spend her<span class="pagenum">[113]</span> -midsummer holidays at Hawkhurst in the absence of her -father. The letter had been opened by Lady Wynde -and read, and she had thrown it aside, without thought -of delivering it to its rightful owner.</p> - -<p>“How the baronet adored his wife!” thought Craven -Black, as he carefully perused the letters. “What a -depth of passion these letters show. It is strange that -Octavia should not have been touched and pleased by -his devotion, and learned to return it. But she had an -equal passion for me, and thought of him only as an -obstacle to be removed from her path. I never loved a -woman as Sir Harold loved her. I do not think I am -capable of such intense devotion. I am fond of Octavia—more -fond of her than I ever was of woman before. -She is handsome, stately and keen-witted. Her tastes -and mine are similar. She will make me a rich man, -and consequently a happy one. Four thousand a year -from her, and ten thousand a year from Rufus when he -marries Miss Wynde. That won’t be bad. I could have -married an African with prospects such as these!”</p> - -<p>He studied the style of the composition, the peculiar -expression, and the penmanship, at great length, and -then took up Sir Harold’s intercepted letter to his -daughter. It was very tender and loving, and was written -in a deep gloom after the death of the baronet’s son -in India. It declared that the father felt a strange conviction -that he should never see again his home, his wife, -or his daughter, and he conjured Neva by her love for -him to be gentle, loving and obedient to her step-mother, -to soothe Lady Wynde in the anguish his death -would cause her, if his forebodings proved true, and he -should die in India.</p> - -<p>“Women are mostly fools!” muttered Craven Black -impatiently. “Why didn’t Octavia send the girl this -letter? Probably because Sir Harold mentions in it her<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> -probable anguish at his loss, and she was waiting impatiently -for the hour of her <a id="Ref_114" href="#BRef_114">third</a> marriage. And Sir -Harold writes as if he had expected his daughter to -spend her summer’s holidays at Hawkhurst, and Octavia -did not want her here at that time. The girl must have -the letter. It will strengthen Octavia’s influence over -her immensely.”</p> - -<p>After an hour’s keen study, Craven Black seized pen -and ink and carefully imitated upon scraps of paper the -peculiar and characteristic handwriting of Sir Harold. -He had a singular aptitude for this sort of forgery, and -devoted himself to his task with genuine zeal. He -wrote out a letter with careful deliberation, studying the -effect of every line, incorporating some of the favorite -expressions of the baronet, and this he proceeded to copy -upon a sheet of the paper Lady Wynde had given him, -and in a curiously exact imitation of Sir Harold’s penmanship.</p> - -<p>He worked for hours upon the letter, finishing it -to his satisfaction only at daybreak of the following -morning. His nefarious composition purported to be a -last letter from Sir Harold Wynde to his daughter, written -the night before his tragic death in India, and under -a terrible gloom and foreboding of approaching death!</p> - -<p>The forger began the letter with a declaration of the -most tender, paternal love for Neva on the part of the -father in whose name he wrote, and declared that he -believed himself standing upon the brink of eternity, -and therefore wrote a few last lines to Neva, which he -desired her to receive as an addenda to his last will and -testament.</p> - -<p>The letter went on to state that Sir Harold adored his -beautiful wife, but that as she was still young, it was -not his wish that she should spend the remainder of her -life in mourning for him. He desired her to marry<span class="pagenum">[115]</span> -again, to form new ties, to take a fresh lease of life, and -to make another as happy as she had made him happy!</p> - -<p>This message he wished to be delivered to Lady -Wynde from his daughter’s lips, as his last message to -the wife he had worshiped.</p> - -<p>And now came in the subtle point of the forged missive. -As from the pen and heart of Sir Harold Wynde, -the letter went on to say that the father was full of -anxieties in regard to his daughter’s future. She was -young, an heiress, and would perhaps become a prey to -a fortune-hunter. From this fate he desired with all his -soul to save her.</p> - -<p>“I think I should rise in my grave, if my loving, -tender little Neva were to marry a man who sought her -for her wealth,” the forged letter said. “If I die here, -I have a last request to make of you, my child, and I -know that your father’s last wish will be held sacred by -you. If I do not die, this letter will never be delivered -to you. I shall send it to the care of Octavia, to be -given to you in the case of my death. I know not why -this strange gloom has come upon me, but I have a premonition -that my death is near. I shall not see you -again in life, my child, my poor little Neva, but if you -obey my last request I shall know it in heaven.</p> - -<p>“My request is this. I have long taken a keen interest -in the character and career of a young man now at -Oxford. His talents are good, his character noble and -elevated, his principles excellent. His name is Rufus -Black. He comes of a fine old family, but he is not -rich. There is not a man in the world to whom I would -give you so readily as to Rufus Black. He will come to -see you at Hawkhurst some day when the edge of your -grief for me has worn away, and for my sake treat him -kindly. If he asks you to marry him, consent. I shall -rest easier in my grave if you are his wife.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[116]</span></p> - -<p>“My child, your father’s voice speaks to you from the -grave; your father’s arm is stretched out to protect you -in your desolation and helplessness. I lay upon you no -commands, but I pray you, by your love for me, to -marry Rufus Black if he comes to woo you. And as -you heed this, my last request, so may you be happy.”</p> - -<p>There was a further page or two of similar purport, and -then the letter closed with a few last tender words, and -the name of Sir Harold Wynde.</p> - -<p>“It will do, I think,” said Craven Black exultantly. -“I might have made it stronger, ordered her to marry -Rufus under penalty of a father’s curse, but that would -not have been like Sir Harold Wynde, and she might have -suspected the letter to be a forgery. As it is, Sir Harold -himself would hardly dare to deny the letter as his own, -should his spirit walk in here. I’ve managed the letter -with the requisite delicacy and caution, and there can be -no doubt of the result. The handwriting is perfect.”</p> - -<p>He inclosed the letter, and addressed it to Miss Neva -Wynde, sealing it with the bronze wax, and Sir Harold’s -private seal. Then he inclosed the sealed letter in a -larger envelope, that which had inclosed the baronet’s last -letter to his wife from India. The letter which had come -in this envelope was written upon three pages, and contained -nothing at variance with his forged missive. Upon -the fourth and blank page of Sir Harold’s last letter he -forged a postscript, enjoining Lady Wynde to give the -inclosure—the forgery—to Neva, in case of his death in -India, but to keep it one year, until her school-days -were ended, and the first bitterness of grief at her father’s -death was past.</p> - -<p>Craven Black made up the double letter into a thick -packet resembling a book, and addressed it to Lady -Wynde. He gathered together all his scraps of paper -and the envelopes remaining and burned them, and<span class="pagenum">[117]</span> -cleared away the evidences of his night’s work. He extinguished -his lights, drew back his curtains, opened his -windows to the summer morning breeze, and flung himself -on a sofa and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>He was awakened about eight o’clock by the waiter at -the door with his breakfast. He arose yawning, gave -the waiter admittance, and summoned a messenger, whom -he dispatched to Hawkhurst, early as was the hour, with -orders to give the packet he had made into the hands -of Lady Wynde or Mrs. Artress, Lady Wynde’s companion.</p> - -<p>“Artress will be on the look-out for him,” thought -Craven Black. “She will meet the messenger at the -lodge gates, and carry the packet herself to Octavia. So -that is arranged!”</p> - -<p>He summoned his son to breakfast, and presently -Rufus came in, worn and haggard, having evidently -passed a sleepless night. The two men ate their breakfast -without speaking. After the meal, when the tray -had been removed, Rufus would have withdrawn, but his -father commanded him to remain.</p> - -<p>“I want you to write a letter to that girl in Brompton,” -said Craven Black, in the tone that always compelled the -abject obedience of his son. “Tell her it is all up between -you—that she is not your wife—that you shall never see -her again!”</p> - -<p>“I cannot—I cannot! I must see her again. I must -break the news to her tenderly—”</p> - -<p>“Do as I say. There are writing materials on my desk. -Write the letter I have ordered, or, by Heaven, I’ll summon -a constable on the spot!”</p> - -<p>Rufus sobbed pitifully, and turned away to hide his -weakness. He was but a boy, a poor, weak, cowardly -boy, afraid of his father, unable to earn a living for himself -and Lally, unable even to support himself, and he<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> -had actually gained his marriage license by committing -perjury—swearing that he was of age, and his own master. -He had laid a snare for himself in that wrong act, -and was now entangled in that snare.</p> - -<p>He felt himself helpless in his father’s hands, and sat -down at the desk, and with tear-blinded eyes and unsteady -hand, dashed off a wild, incoherent letter to his -poor young wife, telling her that their marriage was null -and void—that she was not his wife—and that they two -must never meet again. When he had appended his -name, he bowed his head on his arms and wept aloud.</p> - -<p>Craven Black coolly perused the letter and approved -it. He folded it, and put it in his pocket-book.</p> - -<p>“I will take it to her,” he said quietly. “My cab is at -the door, and I am ready to start to London. I shall take -the half-past ten express, if I can reach Canterbury in -time. You will await my return here. I shall be back -before evening. Reconcile yourself to your fate, Rufus, -and don’t look so woe-begone. I shall expect to find you -in a better frame of mind when I return. As to the girl, -I will provide for her liberally. Fortunately I am in funds -just now. I shall send her away somewhere where she will -never cross your path again!”</p> - -<p>Without another glance at his son, he took up his hat -and went out. The rumbling of the carriage wheels, as -it bore Craven Black on his way to Canterbury, aroused -Rufus from his stupor. That sound was to him the knell -of his happiness!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[119]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">BLACK CONTINUES HIS CONSPIRACY.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>As the hours wore on after Rufus Black’s departure -from the dingy little lodging he had called home, poor -Lally became anxious and troubled. Her young husband -had inspired her with a great awe for his father, as well -as terror of him, but she was a brave little soul and prayed -with all her heart that Rufus would have courage to confess -his marriage, let the consequences of that confession -be what they would. She had a horror of concealment -or deception, and she believed that Craven Black would -relent toward his son when he should discover that he -was really married.</p> - -<p>As the afternoon of that first day of solitude wore on, -and the hour for Rufus’ return drew near, she swept -and dusted and garnished the dreary little room as well -as she could, put the shining tin kettle on the grate, and -made her simple toilet, putting on her best dress, a cheap -pink lawn that contrasted well with her berry-brown -complexion, and winding a pink ribbon in her hair. -She looked very pretty and fresh and bright when she -had finished, and she stood by the window, her face -pressed to the glass, all hopefulness and expectancy, and -looked out upon the opposite side of the crescent until -long after the hour appointed for her husband’s return. -But when evening came on and the gas lamps were -lighted in the streets, her expectancy was changed to a -terrible anxiety and she put on her shabby little hat -and hurried out to a little newsstand, investing a penny -in an evening paper, with a vague idea that there must<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> -have been an accident on the line and that her husband -had perhaps been killed.</p> - -<p>But no accident being reported, she returned to her -poor little home, and waited for him with what patience -she could summon. But he came not, and no message, -letter, or telegram came to allay her fears. She waited -for him until midnight, hearkening to every step in the -street, and then lay down without undressing, consoling -herself with the thought that Rufus would be home in -the morning.</p> - -<p>But morning came, and Rufus did not come. Poor -Lally was too anxious to prepare her breakfast, and sustained -her strength by eating a piece of bread while she -watched from the window. She assured herself that it -was all right, that Rufus’ prolonged absence was a sign -that he had reconciled himself with his father, and that -probably he would return in company with his parent. -This idea prompted her to brush her tangled waves of -hair, and to press out her tumbled dress and otherwise -make herself presentable.</p> - -<p>As the day deepened a conviction that something had -happened that was adverse to her happiness dawned -upon her. It was not like Rufus to leave her in such -suspense, and she was sure that some harm had come to -him.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he has been murdered and thrown out of -the railway coach,” she thought, her round eyes growing -big with horror. “I will go to Wyndham by the next -train.”</p> - -<p>She was about to put on her hat when her landlady, a -coarse, ill-bred woman, opened the door unceremoniously, -and entered her presence.</p> - -<p>“Going out, Mrs. Black?” she demanded, with a sniff -of suspicion. “I hope you are not going off, like the last -lodger I had in this ’ere blessed room, without paying of<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> -the rent? I hope you don’t intend to give me the slip, -Mrs. Black, which you’ve got no clothes nor furniture to -pay the rent, and you owing ten and sixpence!”</p> - -<p>“I have the money for the rent, Mrs. McKellar,” answered -Lally, producing her pocket-book, while her -childish face flushed. “I have no intention of giving -you the slip, as you call it. I—I am going down into -the country to look for my husband. Here is your pay.”</p> - -<p>The landlady took her money with an air of relief. -Her greed satisfied, her curiosity became ascendant.</p> - -<p>“Where is Mr. Black, if I may be so bold?” she inquired. -“It’s not like him to be away over night. But -young men will be young men, Mrs. Black, whether they -are young gentlemen or otherwise, and they will have -their sprees, you know, Mrs. Black, although I <em>would</em> say -that Mr. Black seemed as steady a young gentlemen as -one could wish to see.”</p> - -<p>“He <em>is</em> steady,” asserted the young wife, half indignantly. -“He never goes on a spree. He—he went to -see his father, and said he would be back last night. -And, oh, I am so anxious!” she cried, her terrors getting -the better of her reserve. “I am sure he would never -have stayed away like this if something had not happened -to him.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he’s deserted you?” suggested her Job’s -comforter. “Men desert their wives every day. Lawks! -What is that?” the landlady ejaculated, as a loud double -knock was heard on the street door. “It’s not the postman. -Perhaps Mr. Black has been killed, and they’re -bringing home his body.”</p> - -<p>The poor young wife uttered a wild shriek and flew to -the head of the stairs, the ponderous landlady hurrying -after her, and reaching her side just as the slipshod -maid-servant opened the door, giving admittance to -Craven Black.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[122]</span></p> - -<p>The landlady descended the stairs noisily, and Lally -retreated to her room. She had hardly gained it when -Mr. Black came up the stairs alone and knocked at the -door. She gave him admittance, her big round eyes full -of questioning terror, her pale lips framing the words:</p> - -<p>“My husband?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black, holding his hat in his hand, closed the door -behind him. He bowed politely to the scared young -creature, and demanded:</p> - -<p>“You are Miss Lally Bird?”</p> - -<p>The slight, childish figure drew itself up proudly, and -the quivering voice tried to answer calmly:</p> - -<p>“No, sir; I am Mrs. Rufus Black. My name used to -be Lally Bird. Do—do you come from my husband?”</p> - -<p>“I come from Mr. Rufus Black,” replied Craven Black -politely. “I am the bearer of a note from him, but -must precede its delivery with an explanation. Mr. -Black is now in Kent, and will remain there for the summer.”</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t understand you, sir,” said poor Lally, -bewildered.</p> - -<p>There was a rustling outside the door, as the landlady -settled herself at the keyhole, in an attitude to listen to -the conversation between Lally and her visitor. Mrs. -McKellar was convinced that there was some mystery -connected with her fourth floor lodgers, and she deemed -this a favorable opportunity of solving it.</p> - -<p>“Permit me to introduce myself to you, Miss Bird,” -said her visitor, still courteously. “I am Craven Black, -the father of Rufus.”</p> - -<p>The young wife gasped with surprise, and her face -whitened suddenly. She sat down abruptly, with her -hand upon her heart.</p> - -<p>“His father?” she murmured.</p> - -<p>Craven Black bowed, while he regarded her and her<span class="pagenum">[123]</span> -surroundings curiously. The dingy, poverty-stricken -little room, with its meagre plenishing and no luxuries, -struck him as being but one remove from an alms-house. -The young wife, in her wretchedly poor attire, with her -big black eyes and brown face, from which all color had -been stricken by his announcement, seemed to him a -very commonplace young person, quite of the lower -orders, and he wondered that his university bred son -could have loved her, and that he still desired to cling to -her and his poverty, rather than to leave her and wed an -heiress.</p> - -<p>For a moment or more Lally remained motionless and -stupefied, and then the color flashed back to her cheeks -and lips, and the brightness to her eyes. She could interpret -the visit of Craven Black in but one manner—as -a token of his reconciliation with his son.</p> - -<p>“Ah, sir, I beg your pardon,” she said, arising to her -feet, “but I was sorely frightened. I have been so -anxious about Rufus. I expected him home last night. -And I could not dream that you would come to our poor -home.”</p> - -<p>She placed a chair for him, but he continued standing, -hat in hand, and leaned carelessly upon the chair -back. He was the picture of elegance and cool serenity, -while Lally, flushed and excited, glanced down at her -own attire in dismay.</p> - -<p>“I understand that Rufus has remained in Kent,” she -said, all breathless and joyous, “and I suppose you have -been kind enough to come to take me to him. I fear I -am hardly fit to accompany you, Mr. Black. We have -been so poor, so terribly poor. But I will be ready in a -moment. Oh, I am so grateful to you, sir, for your -goodness to us. Poor Rufus feared your anger more -than all things else. I know I am no fit match for your -son, but—but I love him so,” and the bright face drooped<span class="pagenum">[124]</span> -shyly. “I will be a good wife to him, sir, and a good -daughter to you.”</p> - -<p>“Stay,” said Mr. Black, in a cold, metallic voice. “You -are laboring under a misapprehension, Miss Bird. I am -not come to take you down into Kent. You will never -look upon the face of Rufus Black again.”</p> - -<p>“<em>Sir!</em>”</p> - -<p>“I mean it, madam. I pity you from my soul; I do, -indeed. It were better for you if you had never seen -Rufus Black. You fancy yourself his wife. You are -not so.”</p> - -<p>“Not his wife? Oh, sir, then you do not know? -Why, we were married at St. Mary’s Church, in the -parish of Newington. Our marriage is registered there, -and Rufus has a certificate of the marriage.”</p> - -<p>“But still you are not married,” said the pitiless visitor, -his keen eyes lancing the soul of the tortured girl. -“Permit me to explain. My son procured a marriage -license, and he made oath that you and he were both of -age, and legally your own masters. He swore to a lie. -Now that is perjury. A marriage of minors without -consent of parents is null and void, and my consent was -not given. Your marriage is illegal, is no marriage at -all. You are as free and Rufus is as free as if this little -episode had not been.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Heaven!” moaned the young girl, in a wild -strained voice, sinking back into a chair. “Not married—not -his wife!”</p> - -<p>“You are not his wife,” declared Craven Black mercilessly. -“I cannot comprehend by what fascination you -lured my son into this connection with you, but no -doubt he was equally to blame. He is well born and -well connected. You are neither. A marriage between -you and him is something preposterous. I have no fancy -for an alliance with the family of a tallow-chandler. I<span class="pagenum">[125]</span> -speak plainly, because delicacy is out of place in handling -this affair. You are of one grade in life, we of -another. I recognize your ambition and desire to rise -in the world, but it must not be done at my expense.”</p> - -<p>“Ambition?” repeated poor Lally, putting her hand -to her forehead. “I never thought of rising in the world -when I married Rufus. I loved him, and he loved me. -And we meant to work together, and we have been so -happy. Oh, I am married to him! Do not say that I -am not. I am his wife, Mr. Black—I am his own wife!”</p> - -<p>“And I repeat that you are not,” said Mr. Black -harshly. “The law will not recognize such a marriage. -And if you persist in clinging to the prize you fancy you -have hooked, I will have Rufus arrested on the charge -of perjury and sent to prison.”</p> - -<p>Lally uttered a cry of horror. Her eyes dilated, her -thin chest heaved, her black eyes burned with the fires -that raged in her young soul.</p> - -<p>“Rufus has recognized the stern necessity of the case, -and full of fears for his own safety he has given you up,” -continued Lally’s persecutor. “He will never see you -again, and desires you, if you have any regard for him -and his safety, to quietly give him up, and glide back -into your own proper sphere.”</p> - -<p>“I will not give him up!” cried Lally—“never! never! -Not until his own lips tell me so! You are cruel, but -you cannot deceive me. I am his own wife, and I will -never give him up!”</p> - -<p>“Read that!” said Mr. Black, producing the note his -son had written. “I presume you know his handwriting?”</p> - -<p>He tossed to Lally the folded paper. She seized it -and read it eagerly, her face growing white and rigid -like stone. She knew the handwriting only too well. -And in this letter Rufus confirmed his father’s words,<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> -and utterly renounced her. A conviction of the truth -settled down like a funeral pall upon her young soul.</p> - -<p>“You begin to believe me, I see,” said Mr. Black, -growing uncomfortable under the awful stare of her horrified -eyes. “You comprehend at last that you are no -wife?”</p> - -<p>“What am I then?” the pale lips whispered.</p> - -<p>“Don’t look at me in that way, Miss Bird. Really -you frighten me. Don’t take this thing too much to -heart. Of course it’s a disappointment and all that, but -the affair won’t hurt you as if you belonged to a higher -class in life. It’s a mere episode, and people will forget -it. You can resume your maiden name and occupations -and marry some one in your own class, and some day -you will smile at this adventure!”</p> - -<p>“Smile? Ah, God!”</p> - -<p>Poor Lally cowered in her chair, her small wan face -so full of woe and despair that even Craven Black, villain -as he was, grew uneasy. There was an appalled -look in her eyes, too, that scared him.</p> - -<p>“You take the thing too hardly, Miss Bird,” he said. -“I will provide for you. Rufus must not see you again, -and I must have your promise to leave him unmolested. -Give me that promise and I will deal liberally with you. -You must not follow him into Kent. Should you meet -him in the street or elsewhere, you must not speak to -him. Do you understand? If you do, he will suffer in -prison for your contumacy!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Heaven be merciful to me!” wailed the poor -disowned young wife. “See him, and not speak to him? -Meet him and pass him by, when I love him better than -my life? Oh, Mr. Black, in the name of Heaven, I beg -you to have pity upon us. I know I am poor and humble. -But I love your son. We are of equal station in the<span class="pagenum">[127]</span> -sight of God, and my love for Rufus makes me his equal. -He loves me still—he loves me—”</p> - -<p>“Do not deceive yourself with false hopes,” interposed -Craven Black. “My son recognizes the invalidity -of his marriage, and has succumbed to my will. If you -know him well, you know his weak, cowardly nature. -He has agreed never to speak to you again, and, moreover, -he has promised to marry a young lady for whom -I have long intended him—”</p> - -<p>A sharp, shrill cry of doubt and horror broke from -poor, wronged Lally.</p> - -<p>“It is true,” affirmed Craven Black.</p> - -<p>The girl uttered no further moan, nor sob. Her wild -eyes were tearless; her white lips were set in a rigid -and awful smile.</p> - -<p>“I—I feel as if I were going mad!” she murmured.</p> - -<p>“You will not go mad,” said Craven Black, with an -attempt at airiness. “You are not the first woman who -has tried to rise above her proper sphere and fallen -back to her own detriment. But, Miss Bird, I must have -your promise to leave Rufus alone. You must resume -your maiden name, and let this episode be as if it had -not been.”</p> - -<p>“I shall not trouble Rufus,” the poor girl said, her -voice quivering. “If I am not his wife, and he cannot -marry me, why should I?”</p> - -<p>“That is right and sensible. Here are fifty pounds -which may prove serviceable if you should ever marry,” -and Mr. Black handed her a crisp new Bank of England -note.</p> - -<p>The girl crumpled it in her hand and flung it back to -him, her eyes flashing.</p> - -<p>“You have taken away my husband—my love—my -good name!” she panted. “How dare you offer me -money? I will not take it if I starve!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[128]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Black coolly picked up the note and restored it -to his pocket.</p> - -<p>He was about to speak further when the door was -burst violently open, and the landlady, flushed with -excitement, came rushing in like an incarnate tornado. -The rejection of the money by Lally had incensed her -beyond all that had gone before.</p> - -<p>“I keep a respectable house, I hope, Miss,” snapped -the woman. “I’ve heard all that’s been said here, as is -right I should, being a lone widow and a dependent upon -the reputation of my lodging-’us for a living. And -being as you an’t married, though a pretending of it, I -can’t shelter you no longer. Out you go, without a -minute’s warning. There’s your hat, and there’s your -sack. Take ’em, and start!”</p> - -<p>Lally obeyed the words literally. She caught up her -out-door apparel, and with one wild, wailing cry, dashed -out of the room, down the stairs and into the street.</p> - -<p>Mr. Black and the landlady regarded each other in a -mutual alarm.</p> - -<p>“You have driven her to her death, Madam,” said -Craven Black excitedly. “She has gone out to destroy -herself, and you have murdered her.”</p> - -<p>He put on his hat and left the house. The girl’s flying -figure had already disappeared, and the villain’s -conscience cried out to him that she would perish, and -that it was <em>he</em>, and none other, who had killed her.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[129]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">HOW NEVA RECEIVED THE FORGERIES.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>While Craven Black was successfully pursuing his -machinations to destroy the happiness of two young -lives, Lady Wynde had been active in carrying out her -part in the infamous plot against Neva. The little -packet of forged letters which had cost Lady Wynde’s -fellow-conspirator a night of toil, and which had been -sent to Hawkhurst by a special messenger, had been -safely delivered into the hands of Mrs. Artress, who had -been waiting at the gate lodge to receive it. It had so -happened that not even the lodge keeper had witnessed -the reception of the packet, and she had dismissed the -messenger, and carefully concealed the packet upon -her person, and returned to the house and to the presence -of her mistress.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde had not yet risen. She lay in the midst -of her white bed, with her black hair tossing upon her -ruffled pillow, one white and rounded arm lying upon -the scarlet satin coverlet, and with a profusion of -dainty frills and laces upon her person. A small inlaid -table stood at her bedside, supporting a round silver -tray, upon which gleamed a silver <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tete-a-tete</i> set of the -daintiest proportions, and at the moment of her companion’s -entrance her ladyship was sipping her usual -morning cup of black coffee, which was expected to tone -and strengthen her nerves for the day.</p> - -<p>She dropped her tiny gold spoon, and looked up -eagerly and expectantly, and Artress, closing the door, -drew forth the packet with an air of triumph.</p> - -<p>“I have received it,” said the gray companion, “and<span class="pagenum">[130]</span> -no one is the wiser for it. The messenger thinks it a book, -and the people at the lodge did not even see it. We are -in the usual luck, Octavia. Everything goes well with -us.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad that Craven did not fail me,” murmured -Lady Wynde. “I feared he might find the task too -heavy for him. But he is always prompt. Open the -packet, Artress.”</p> - -<p>The companion obeyed, bringing to light the double -letter, the one Craven Black had forged being securely -lodged within the last letter Sir Harold Wynde had -written to his wife from India.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde saw that the inner letter, addressed to -Neva, was securely sealed, read the forged postscript to -the letter addressed to her, and placed both under her -pillow, with a complacent smile.</p> - -<p>“Craven is a clever fellow,” she muttered. “And how -much he loves me, Artress. Not many men could have -seen the woman they loved marry another, but Craven -and I have been worldly wise, and we shall reap the reward -of our self-denial. If we had married three years -ago, we should have been poor now, mere hangers on -upon the outskirts of society, tolerated for the sake of -our connections, but nothing more. But we determined -to play a daring game, and behold our success. I am -again a widow, with four thousand a year and a good -house while I live, and I can lay up money if I choose -while I continue the chaperon of my husband’s daughter. -And if our game continues to prosper, and Neva -marries Rufus Black, Craven and I will make ten thousand -a year more for the remainder of our lives. Rufus -will have to sign an agreement giving us that amount -out of Neva’s income. Think of it Artress; fourteen -thousand a year!”</p> - -<p>“Of which if you win it, I am to have five hundred,”<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> -said Artress, her gray face flushing. “And if you do not -win the ten thousand, I am to have two hundred pounds -a year settled upon me for life. Is not that our bargain?”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde nodded assent.</p> - -<p>“And,” continued Artress, “I am to enter society with -you, to remain with you as your guest instead of companion. -I have been necessary to you in playing this -game. I have lived with you some three years now, and -though people know that I am a lady born, no one suspects -that I am own cousin to Craven Black, and soon to -be your cousin by marriage. We have joined our forces -and wits together in this game, and we shall enjoy our -success together.”</p> - -<p>This, then, was the secret of the connection between -the two women so unlike each other, yet so in unison in -their schemes. Mrs. Artress was the cousin of Craven -Black, and being poor as well as unscrupulous, she was -his most faithful ally in his stupendously wicked schemes. -The interests of the three conspirators were indeed identical.</p> - -<p>“I believe I will rise,” said Lady Wynde. “I am impatient -to give this letter to Neva, and to see how she -receives it. Do you suppose she is up?”</p> - -<p>“She has been up these two hours,” answered Artress. -“She has been all over the house, has talked with the -butler and the servants, has visited the stable and gardens, -and has even been into the park. She means to -assert her dignity as mistress of Hawkhurst, and to win -the hearts of her dependents, so that in case she disagrees -with you they will support her.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde frowned darkly.</p> - -<p>“Miss Neva is not yet of age, and so, although she -owns Hawkhurst, there may be a question whether she is<span class="pagenum">[132]</span> -its mistress, or whether I, who am her guardian and her -father’s widow, am mistress here.”</p> - -<p>Her ladyship pulled the bell cord at her bed head, -summoning her maid. Artress retired into Lady Wynde’s -sitting-room, and upon the appearance of her attendant, -the widow arose and attired herself in a white morning -wrapper with crimson trimmings, and put upon her head -a small square of white lace adorned with crimson bows. -She had some time since discarded her widow’s cap, as -“too horribly unbecoming.”</p> - -<p>She ascertained that Neva was now in her own rooms, -and took her way thither, the forged letters in her hand. -Neva was alone when her step-mother, after a preliminary -knock upon the door, entered her sitting-room, and -she greeted Lady Wynde with a smile and look of welcome.</p> - -<p>Neva was looking very lovely this morning, flushed -with her early exercise, her red-brown eyes strangely -brilliant, her red-brown hair arranged in crimps and -braids. She wore a simple dress of white lawn, made -short to escape the ground, and her ribbons and ornaments -were of black. Lady Wynde fancied that Neva’s -half-mourning attire was a reproach to her, and this -fancied reproach, coupled with Neva’s bright, spirited -beauty, gave an impulse to her incipient dislike to the -girl.</p> - -<p>A vague jealousy of Neva’s youth and loveliness had -found place in her heart on the previous evening. Now -that faint spark became fanned into a burning flame. -She aspired to be a social queen, and here under her very -roof, and under her chaperonage, was a girl whom she -felt sure would eclipse her. She would not be known in -society as the handsome Mrs. Black, but as the chaperon -of the beautiful Miss Wynde.</p> - -<p>But, despite her anger and jealousy, nothing could<span class="pagenum">[133]</span> -have been more bland and affectionate than the greeting -of Lady Wynde to her step-daughter. She kissed her -with seeming tenderness, and caressed her bright hair as -she said:</p> - -<p>“How animated you look, my dear—fairly sparkling! -I should fancy that you have an electric sort of temperament—all -fire and glow. Is it not so? You remind me -of your father, Neva. It will be very sweet to have you -with me, but my grief at my husband’s awful death has -been so great that until now I could never bear to look -upon his daughter’s face. I fancied you would look even -more like him, and I could not have borne the resemblance -in my first grief.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde sighed deeply, and sat down upon the -blue silken couch, drawing Neva to a seat beside her.</p> - -<p>“I have come in to have a long confidential talk with -you, my child,” resumed her ladyship. “There should be -between you and me strangely tender relations. Your -poor dear father desired us to be all the world to each -other, and for his sake, as well as your own, I intend to -be a true and good mother to you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, madam,” said Neva, gravely, yet gratefully. -“I will try to deserve your kindness, and to be a -daughter to you.”</p> - -<p>“You do not call me mother,” suggested Lady Wynde, -reproachfully.</p> - -<p>The young girl colored, and her brilliant eyes were -suddenly shadowed. Her scarlet lips quivered an instant, -as she said gently:</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, dear Lady Wynde, but one has but one -mother. I love my dead mother as if she were living, -even though I know her only through my dear father’s -description of her. I cannot give you her name, and I -think it would hardly be appropriate. You are too young<span class="pagenum">[134]</span> -to be called mother by a grown-up girl. Does it not -seem so to you?”</p> - -<p>“Possibly you are right. Suit yourself, my dear. I -seek only your happiness. I can be a mother to you, -even if you decline to give me the name.”</p> - -<p>“And I can equally be a daughter to you, dear Lady -Wynde,” said Neva. “We shall be like sisters, I trust. -And I desire to say that I hope you will consider yourself -as fully mistress of Hawkhurst as when poor papa -was here. I shall not interfere with your rule here, even -if I may, until I attain my majority. While I live, my -home shall be a home to my father’s widow.”</p> - -<p>“You are very kind, my dear. All these things will -settle themselves hereafter. I have now to deliver to -you a last message from your dear father—a message, -as I might say, from the grave. Your father’s voice -speaks to you from the other world, my dear Neva, and -I know that you will heed its call.”</p> - -<p>Her ladyship drew forth the packet of letters, and laid -them on Neva’s knee.</p> - -<p>“You have there,” continued Lady Wynde, putting her -handkerchief to her eyes, “the last letter I ever received -from my dear husband. You may read it. You will see -that he had a presentiment of his approaching death; that -a gloom hung upon him that he could not shake off. That -letter was written the night before his tragic death.”</p> - -<p>Neva opened the letter with trembling hands and -read it, even to the postscript upon the last page which -had been forged by the cunning hand of Craven Black. -Her tears fell as she read it.</p> - -<p>“The inclosure—ah, you have not seen it,” said Lady -Wynde—“is the letter alluded to in that last page of the -letter to me. You see that it has never been opened. -It is a sealed document to me in every sense, although, -as poor Sir Harold often told me of his secret wishes in<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> -regard to your future, I have some suspicion of its contents. -Your father requested me should he die in India, -to give you this letter one year after his death. The -appointed time has now arrived, and I deliver into your -hands the last letter your father ever wrote, and which -contains his last sacred wishes in regard to you. You -are to receive it as an addendum to his will, as a sacred -charge, as if his voice were speaking to you from his -home in Heaven!”</p> - -<p>She lifted the sealed letter, laying it in Neva’s hands.</p> - -<p>The young girl received it with an uncontrollable -agitation.</p> - -<p>“I—I must read it alone,” she said brokenly.</p> - -<p>“Very well, dear. Go into your dressing-room with -it, and when you have finished reading it come back to -me. I have more to say to you.”</p> - -<p>Neva departed without a word, and went into the adjoining -room. As the door closed behind her, Lady -Wynde softly arose, crossed the floor, and peeped in -upon the young girl’s privacy through the key-hole of -the door.</p> - -<p>Neva was alone in her dressing-room, and was kneeling -down before a low chair upon which she had laid -the forged letter, as yet unopened. The baronet’s widow -watched the girl as she examined the address and the -seal, and then cut open the top of the letter with a pocket-knife. -Neva unfolded the closely written sheet, all -stamped with her father’s monogram, and with low sobs -and tear-blinded eyes began to read the letter, accepting -it without doubt or question as her father’s last letter -to her.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde’s eyes gleamed, and a mocking smile -played about her full, sensual lips, as Neva read slowly -page after page, still upon her knees, now and then -pausing to kiss the handwriting she believed to be her<span class="pagenum">[136]</span> -father’s. The forger’s work had been well done. The -tender pet names by which Sir Harold had loved to call -his daughter were often repeated, with such protestations -of affection as would most stir a loving daughter’s -heart when receiving them long after the death of her -father, and believing them to have been written by that -father’s hand.</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa! poor, poor, papa!” the girl sobbed. “He -foresaw my loneliness and desolation, and left these last -words to cheer me. I will remember your wishes so -often expressed in this and other letters. I will be kind -and gentle and obedient to Lady Wynde. I will try to -love her for your sake.”</p> - -<p>When she had grown calmer, Neva read on. As she -read that her father had a last request to make of her, -she smiled through her tears, and murmured:</p> - -<p>“I am glad that he has left me something to do—whatever -it may be. I should like to feel that I am -obeying him still, although he is in Heaven. Dear papa!—your -‘request’ is to me a sacred command, and I shall -so consider it.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde’s eyes glittered like balls of jet. She -had estimated rightly the childlike trust of Neva in her -father’s love and devotion to her.</p> - -<p>“She accepts the whole thing as gospel!” thought -the delighted schemer. “Our success is certain. But -let me see how she takes it, when she finds what the -‘request’ is.”</p> - -<p>Neva perused the letter slowly, and again and again, -with careful deliberation. Her surprise became apparent -on her features, but there was no disbelief, no distrust, -betrayed on her truthful face. But a wan whiteness -overspread her cheeks and lips, and a weary look came -into her eyes, as she folded the letter at last and hid it -in her bosom. She bent her head as if in prayer, and<span class="pagenum">[137]</span> -murmured words which Lady Wynde tried in vain to -hear. They were simple—only these:</p> - -<p>“It is very strange—very strange; but papa meant it -for the best. He feared to leave me unprotected, and a -prey to fortune-hunters. Who is this Rufus Black? Oh, -if papa had only mentioned Lord—Lord Towyn!”</p> - -<p>The very thought brought a vivid scarlet to Neva’s -face in place of her strange pallor, and as if frightened at -her own thought, she arose and went to the open window, -and leaned upon the casement.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde stole back to her couch, and she was sitting -upon it the picture of languor when Neva returned, -very pale now and subdued, and with a shadow of trouble -in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Have you finished your letter so soon, dear?” asked -the step-mother, sweetly. “I believe I can guess what -were the last injunctions to you of your dear father. He -often told me of his plans for you. Shall you do as he -desired?”</p> - -<p>Again the glowing scarlet flush covered Neva’s cheeks, -lips, even her slender throat.</p> - -<p>“My father’s last wishes are a command to me,” she -said, slowly, yet as if her mind were quite made up to -obey the supposed wishes of her father.</p> - -<p>“It was Sir Harold’s request that you should marry a -young man in whom he took considerable interest—one -Rufus Black, was it not?” asked Lady Wynde.</p> - -<p>Neva uttered a low assent.</p> - -<p>“And you will marry this young fellow?”</p> - -<p>“My father liked him well enough to make him my—my -husband,” said Neva. “I can trust my father’s -judgment in all things. I never disobeyed papa in his -life, and I cannot disobey him now that he seems to speak -to me from Heaven. If—if Rufus Black ever proposes<span class="pagenum">[138]</span> -marriage to me, and if he is still worthy of the good -opinion papa formed of him, I—I—”</p> - -<p>Her voice broke down, as she remembered the fair, -boyish face, the warm blue eyes, the tawny hair and -noble air of Lord Towyn, and again with inward shame -the question framed itself in her mind—why could not -her father have recommended to her affection young Arthur -Towyn, whom her father had loved next to his own -son? Why must he desire her to marry a man she had -never seen?</p> - -<p>“You will marry Rufus!” demanded Lady Wynde, as -the girl’s pause became protracted.</p> - -<p>Neva bowed her head—she could not speak.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde’s face glowed, and an evil light gleamed -in her eyes. Her heart throbbed wildly with her evil -triumph.</p> - -<p>“You are indeed a good and faithful daughter, Neva,” -she said caressingly. “In accordance with your father’s -wishes, I must give Mr. Black every chance to woo you. -I believe he knows something of what Sir Harold designed -for you and him, and he is at this moment at -Wyndham village. He is staying at the inn with his -father, and both will call upon you this evening.”</p> - -<p>“So soon?”</p> - -<p>“The sooner the better. I have not seen Rufus Black, -but his father called here last evening. The father -knew poor Sir Harold intimately. And, Neva, dear, in -honor of your guests, and in deference to my wishes, you -ought to lay aside all vestige of your mourning to-day. -You have worn black a year, and that is all that modern -society demands.”</p> - -<p>“The outward garb does not always indicate the feelings -of the heart,” said Neva. “I will change my manner -of dress, since you desire it, but I shall mourn for -papa all my days.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[139]</span></p> - -<p>As Neva became thoughtful and abstracted, Lady -Wynde soon took her leave. She found Artress in her -sitting-room and the gray companion had no need to -ask of her success.</p> - -<p>“Our silly little fish has swallowed the bait,” said -Lady Wynde. “She is ready to immolate herself ‘for -dear papa’s sake,’ although I could see that she is already -interested in Lord Towyn. I am impatient for evening. -I want to see how young Rufus Black will proceed in -his task of winning the heiress of Hawkhurst.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE MEETING OF NEVA AND RUFUS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The hours of his father’s absence in London were full -of an insupportable suspense to Rufus Black. He was -tempted to hurry up to town by the next train, and only -his weakness and cowardice prevented him from flying -to the succor of his wronged young wife. His terror of -his father was a lion in his way. And the act of perjury -he had committed in declaring himself of age when obtaining -his marriage license—an act more of thoughtlessness -and boyish ardor than of deliberate lying—arose -now between him and poor Lally like a wall of iron. -He had erred, and must accept the consequences, but he -thought to himself that he would give all his hopes of -heaven if Lally might have been spared his punishment.</p> - -<p>Anguished and despairing, he put on his hat and -hurried out into the street, eager for fresh air and for -action. He passed out of the little hamlet, seeing no -one, and wandered into the open country, where a noble<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> -park bordered one side of the road, and fair green fields -stretched far away upon the other. Both park and fields -belonged to the domain of Hawkhurst, but Rufus Black -was unconscious of the fact until he came out in full -view of the great gray stone house throned upon the -broad ridge of ground, and set in its parks and gardens -like some rare jewel in its setting.</p> - -<p>Then he recognized the place, and muttered moodily:</p> - -<p>“So, this is what I am to sell my soul for? A goodly -price, no doubt, and more than it is worth. The owner -of all this wealth cannot go begging for a husband, be -she ugly as Medusa. Perhaps, after all, I have been -troubling myself for nothing. She may not choose to -accept a shabby young man, without a penny in his -pocket, and with a gloomy face. If she refuses me, I -dare say that father will let me go back to Lally.”</p> - -<p>This thought afforded him some comfort, and he -plodded on, seeking relief from his troubles in exertion. -He cared not whither he went, and his surprise was -great when at last, arousing from his abstraction, he -found himself in the streets of Canterbury.</p> - -<p>He was near an inn of the humbler sort, and, with a -sudden recklessness as to what became of him, he turned -into the low barroom and demanded a private parlor. -A bare little apartment on the upper floor, overlooking -the inn stables, was assigned him. The floor was uncovered, -and a deal table, rush-bottomed chair and -rickety lounge made up the sum of the furniture.</p> - -<p>Rufus called for brandy and water, tossing a shilling -to the frowsy waiter. A decanter of brandy and a bottle -of water were brought to him, and he entered upon -a solitary orgie. He had not been used to drink, and -the fiery liquid mounted to his brain, inducing stupidity -and drunkenness. For an hour or two he drank with -brief intermission, but sleep overpowered him, and his<span class="pagenum">[141]</span> -head fell upon the table and he snored heavily. With -his red face, dishevelled hair and stertorous breathing, -his unmistakable aspect of drunkenness, he presented a -terrible contrast to the hopeful boy artist with his honest -eyes and loving soul, who had made the dingy lodging -in New Brompton a very paradise to poor Lally.</p> - -<p>The day wore on. A waiter looked in upon the poor -wreck, once or twice, and went away each time chuckling. -In the latter part of the afternoon Rufus awakened, -and came to himself. Ashamed and conscience-stricken, -his first thought being of what Lally would -think of him, he summoned a waiter and demanded -strong coffee and food. These were furnished him, and -having partaken of them he settled his bill, and set out -to walk back to Wyndham.</p> - -<p>“It makes no difference what becomes of me now,” he -said to himself, as he strode along the return route. “I -have started down hill, and I may as well keep on -descending.”</p> - -<p>He had accomplished half the distance between Canterbury -and his destination, when a four-wheeled cab, -traveling briskly, came up behind him, compelling him -to take to the side path. The next moment the cab -stopped, and Craven Black’s head was protruded from -the open window, and Craven Black’s smooth voice -called:</p> - -<p>“Is that you, Rufus? What are you doing away out -here? Jump in! jump in!”</p> - -<p>Rufus obeyed, entering the vehicle, and the cabman -drove on.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?” demanded the elder Black, -as the son settled himself upon the front seat and opposite -his father.</p> - -<p>“I have spent the day in Canterbury,” returned Rufus -sullenly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[142]</span></p> - -<p>“What have you been doing there?”</p> - -<p>“Getting drunk,” was the dogged answer.</p> - -<p>The young man’s face testified to his truthfulness. -His eyes, wild in their glances, were bloodshot and -watery, and he had a reckless air, as if he had thrown -off all restraints of virtue and decency.</p> - -<p>Craven Black experienced a sense of alarm. He began -to fear lest his son would defeat all his plans by his -obstinacy and recklessness.</p> - -<p>“You do not ask me about the girl,” said the father, -with more gentleness than was usual to him. “I have -seen her.”</p> - -<p>“I supposed you had,” was the reply. “I gave you -her address.”</p> - -<p>“I told her the truth,” said Craven Black, puzzled by -his son’s strange mood. “I explained to her kindly -enough that her marriage with you was no marriage at -all. She readily accepted the situation. She cried a little, -to be sure, but she said herself that she was of lower -rank than you, and that the match was too unequal. -She—she said that of course all was over between you, -and it was best you and she should never meet again. -And in fact, to render any such meeting impossible, she -left her lodging while I was there.”</p> - -<p>Rufus fixed a burning gaze upon his father.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe a word you say,” he cried. “The -news you carried to her broke my darling’s heart. Do -you suppose I do not know how much she loved me? I -was all she had in the wide world—her only friend. -Think of that, sir! Her only friend—and you have torn -me from her. If she dies of grief, you are her murderer.”</p> - -<p>Craven Black shuddered involuntarily, remembering -poor Lally’s flight, and his conviction that she had<span class="pagenum">[143]</span> -gone to destroy herself. His emotion did not pass unnoticed -by his son.</p> - -<p>“Poor Lally!” said Rufus, his voice trembling. “It’s -all over between us forever. I have blighted her life, -ruined her good name, and made her an outcast. Yet -it was not I who did this. It was you. Her blood be -upon your head. If I could find her and were free to -woo her, she would never take me back, now that I have -proved myself a liar, perjurer and pitiful wretched coward. -It is indeed all over between us. You can do what -you like with the wreck you have made me. You might -have given me a chance to redeem myself; you might -have let me be true to her, but you would make me -perjure myself doubly. I hope you are pleased with -your work.”</p> - -<p>“Let there be an end of these silly boyish reproaches,” -exclaimed Mr. Black harshly. “You have done with the -girl, and are about to enter upon a new life. I have -generously forgiven your errors and crimes. If you repeat -the drunkenness of to-day, I’ll send you to prison. -Try me, and see if I do not. I have brought you a trunk -from London, filled with new clothing from your tailor, -shirt-maker, boot-maker and jeweller. I have spared no -expense to make you look as my son should look. And -now, by Heaven, if you disgrace me to-night by any -recklessness and folly, any mock despair, I’ll prosecute -you on that charge of perjury.”</p> - -<p>“You need not fear that I shall disgrace myself, or -insult my hostess,” said Rufus doggedly. “You think -no one has the instincts of a gentleman save yourself.”</p> - -<p>With such recriminations as these, the pair beguiled -their drive to Wyndham; nor did they cease from them -after their arrival in Mr. Black’s private parlor. A sullen -silence succeeded in good time, and reigned throughout<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> -the dinner, of which they partook together. After -dinner, they retired to their several rooms to dress.</p> - -<p>The trunk Mr. Black had brought from London had -been deposited in his son’s chamber. Rufus had the -key, and unlocked the receptacle, bringing to light an -ample supply of fine garments, perfume cases, a dressing -case, and a set of jewelled shirt studs in a little velvet -case.</p> - -<p>He arrayed his boyish figure in his new black garments, -noticing even in his despair that they fitted him -as if he had been measured for them. He waited in his -room until his father came for him, and submitted sullenly -to his father’s careful inspection.</p> - -<p>“You’ll do,” commented Craven Black. “If you act -as well as you look, I shall be satisfied. Mind, if you -mention to Miss Wynde one word about the girl Lally, -it’s all up with you. The cab is waiting. Come on!”</p> - -<p>They descended together to the cab, and were conveyed -to Hawkhurst. On arriving at the mansion, they -alighted, and entered the great baronial hall, sending in -their cards to Lady Wynde by the footman. The baronet’s -widow having signified to her domestic that she -was “always at home” to Mr. Black and his son, the -visitors was ushered into the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde and Artress arose to receive them. Craven -Black presented his son, and the baronet’s widow -welcomed the young man graciously. She was looking -unusually well this evening in a robe of pale amber silk, -with a row of short locks trimmed squarely, nursery -fashion, across her low polished forehead, a long black -curl trailing over each shoulder, and her cheeks glowing -with suppressed excitement. Rufus remembered having -seen her before her marriage to Sir Harold Wynde, and -his face brightened as at the sight of a friend.</p> - -<p>He was acquainted, although slightly, with his father’s<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> -cousin, Mrs. Artress, and as he held out his hand to her, -he looked his surprise at seeing her at the house of Lady -Wynde.</p> - -<p>“I am her ladyship’s hired companion,” said Artress, -explainingly. “My husband left me very poor, you know, -Rufus, and I have been in dear Lady Wynde’s employ -for some three years. I beg you not to recognize me as -a relative, nor to mention the fact to any one. I have my -family pride, you know, Rufus, and it is hard to be -obliged to earn one’s own living when one has not been -brought up to it.”</p> - -<p>Her reasons for concealment of the relationship existing -between them seemed to Rufus no reasons at all, but -he could not gainsay her wishes, and muttered that he -would obey her.</p> - -<p>“Miss Wynde has gone out for a solitary stroll in the -park,” observed Lady Wynde, as Mr. Black’s eyes wandered -about the room. “I sent her out for the fresh air. -She is not looking well, I regret to say. Mr. Rufus, if -you will be kind enough to go down the wide park -avenue, you cannot fail to find her. I beg you will -introduce yourself to her, and bring her back to the -house.”</p> - -<p>Rufus bowed, and stepping lightly out of the open window, -moved leisurely toward the park.</p> - -<p>“There is nothing like an informal meeting,” said -Lady Wynde, looking after the young man. “I planned -to have the meeting occur in this way, so that neither -should be embarrassed by the presence of a third -party.”</p> - -<p>“I should have preferred to keep my eye upon Rufus,” -remarked Mr. Black uneasily. “Did you give the letter -to the young lady?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and she received it exactly as I had expected she -would. She is not at all the style of girl I looked for,<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> -Craven, and it is fortunate for our plans that she cared so -much for her father.”</p> - -<p>While the conspirators were thus conversing, Rufus -crossed the lawn and entered the park by a small gate. -The wide avenue, a fine carriage drive, was readily found, -and Rufus walked for some distance upon it, keeping a -vigilant look-out for Miss Wynde. He was beginning to -meditate upon a return to the house without the young -lady, when a flutter of white garments among the dusky -shadows of a side path caught his gaze. He plunged -into the path without hesitation, and presently overtook -the wearer of the garments, who was of course Miss -Wynde.</p> - -<p>Hearing his swift approach, she halted and turned her -face toward him. Rufus also halted, strangely embarrassed -under her brave full glance. She had laid aside -her mourning garments, and wore rose-colored ribbons -and a profusion of frills and puffs and lace, in which she -looked very fair and dainty and sweet. Her wine-brown -eyes were all aglow, but her cheeks were pale, and her -face was very grave, even to sadness.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Rufus awkwardly, raising -his hat. “I am looking for Miss Wynde.”</p> - -<p>“I am Miss Wynde,” said Neva, with gentle courtesy.</p> - -<p>The young man’s embarrassment was not lessened by -this announcement.</p> - -<p>“Lady Wynde sent me to look for you,” he declared. -“I—I am Rufus Black!”</p> - -<p>Neva started and looked at him with her grave, serious -eyes. He appeared to advantage in his new garments, -and his face was pale and worn by the day’s dissipation. -His sorrows and his sickness had given him a -refined look to which he was not fully and fairly entitled, -and his eyes met hers frankly and honestly, with a -real admiration in their gaze.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[147]</span></p> - -<p>Neva’s cheeks flushed slightly, and her heart fluttered. -Clearly Rufus Black had not made an unfavorable impression -upon her in that first glance.</p> - -<p>They turned and walked slowly up the path together, -entering the avenue. Rufus tried to conquer his unwonted -awkwardness, and singularly impressed with -Neva’s beauty, exerted himself to please her. They -sauntered on, stopping now and then to gather ferns or -flowers, and when they emerged from the park upon the -lawn, they were chatting gayly, and on the best of terms -with each other.</p> - -<p>And yet the heart of each was strangely sore. Neva -thought of what “might have been,” and sighed in -her inmost soul that the husband her father was supposed -by her to have chosen for her was not the one her -heart most longed for. And Rufus mourned as bitterly -as ever in his soul for his lost young wife, and felt that -he should never be comforted.</p> - -<p>Craven Black and Lady Wynde watched them as they -approached the house, and the lip of the former curled, -as he muttered:</p> - -<p>“So fade the griefs of the young! Unstable as water, -Rufus is already this girl’s lover!”</p> - -<p>“They are mutually pleased,” murmured Lady -Wynde. “Her father’s supposed wishes and this young -man’s interesting melancholy will soon efface Lord -Towyn’s image from Neva’s mind, if it has made any -impression there.”</p> - -<p>It seemed indeed as if the opinion of the worldly-wise -conspirators would be justified.</p> - -<p>The young couple halted upon the lawn, and Neva’s -gravity and the melancholy of Rufus began to disappear, -when the lodge gates swung open, and three gentleman -came riding up the avenue.</p> - -<p>The long twilight had begun, and even Neva’s keen<span class="pagenum">[148]</span> -eyes could not recognize the new-comers at that distance, -and she chatted merrily to Rufus, who answered -as lightly. But as the horsemen came nearer, and Neva -regarded them more closely, a sudden silence fell upon -her, and a strange shyness seized her.</p> - -<p>It was a critical movement in the progress of the -game which Craven Black and Lady Wynde were playing, -and these new-comers had arrived in time to give -a new turn to it.</p> - -<p>For Neva recognized them as the three guardians of -her property—Sir John Freies, Mr. Atkins, and the -young Lord Towyn!</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">MR. BLACK GETS A NEW IDEA.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>As Neva recognized the youngest of her three guardians, -as they rode up the avenue of Hawkhurst at a -leisurely pace, a strange embarrassment seized upon -her. The horsemen had not yet seen her in the twilight -and the shadow of shrubbery, and she proposed a -return to the drawing-room. Rufus Black assented, -and they passed in at the open French window which -gave directly upon the marble terrace.</p> - -<p>The drawing-room was full of shadows. Artress sat -in a recessed window, silent and immovable, and Lady -Wynde and Craven Black were in the second portion of -the triple arched apartment, completely hidden from -view, and their low whispers barely penetrated to the -outer room. Lady Wynde, hearing her step-daughter’s -return, came forth, rang for lights, and ordered the lace -curtains to be dropped.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[149]</span></p> - -<p>A score of wax candles were presently glowing in their -polished silver sconces, and a couple of moon-like lamps -dispensed a mellow radiance that penetrated to every -corner of the triple room. The curtains, fluttering in -the soft night breeze, shut out all insects, but admitted -the perfumed air. Craven Black, satisfied that his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tete-a-tete</i> -with Lady Wynde was over for the present, sauntered -into the outer room to make the acquaintance of -the young heiress.</p> - -<p>He had thought of Neva as an insipid, affected, weak-headed -young lady, who would be a mere puppet in his -hands and those of Lady Wynde. His surprise may be -imagined when he beheld a slender, spirited girl, with -eyes of red gloom, brown hair tinted with the sunshine, -scarlet lips, and a piquant face, full of an irresistible -witchery and sauciness—a girl so bright and keen of -intellect, so resolute and strong in herself, that he wondered -that she could ever have been imposed upon by -even his skilfully forged letter.</p> - -<p>“Neva, my dear,” said Lady Wynde, “allow me to -present to you the Honorable Craven Black—one of your -dear papa’s friends, and consequently yours and mine.”</p> - -<p>Neva acknowledged the introduction by a bow of her -haughty little head, and a smile so warm and sweet that -Craven Black was captivated by it. Any friend of her -late father’s had a peculiar claim upon Neva’s friendship, -and Craven Black resolved to elaborate the small -fiction, and coin agreeable little anecdotes of his relations -to her father, so that the heiress would be inspired -with a liking for him.</p> - -<p>Before time had been granted for more than the usual -commonplaces incident to an introduction, the three -guardians of Miss Wynde were announced by the footman, -and were ushered into the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Sir John Freise came first—a tall, stately old gentleman,<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> -with white hair and closely cropped whiskers, distinguished -for his old-fashioned courtliness of bearing, -and noted throughout Kent for his unswerving integrity.</p> - -<p>Mr. Atkins, the attorney, came next, looking more -than ordinarily insignificant of person, his bald head -shining, his honest face flushed to redness. He was not -fine looking, nor well shaped, but, like Sir John, he was -a man of invincible integrity and honesty of character, -and many years of service to Sir Harold Wynde had -inspired him with a genuine affection for the family, and -given him, as one might say, a personal interest in its -prosperity.</p> - -<p>Lastly, and because he preferred to come last, was -young Lord Towyn, as handsome as any knight of chivalry, -his golden hair tossed back from his noble forehead, -his blue eyes glowing, and a warm smile playing -about his tawny mustached lips.</p> - -<p>Neva recognized her guardians, and welcomed them -all in turn with handshakings and quiet greetings. Lady -Wynde introduced the Blacks, father and son, to the -new-comers.</p> - -<p>“This is scarcely a business visit, Miss Neva,” said Sir -John Freise, leading his young hostess to a sofa with old-fashioned -gallantry. “Lord Towyn and Mr. Atkins have -been closeted with me to-day, discussing your affairs in -the way of rents and leases, but it is our business to -spare you these details, and it is your province to enjoy -the fruits of our labors,” and he smiled paternally upon -her. “We are come to welcome you back to the home -of your fathers, and to express the hope that you will -fill worthily the place your father has resigned to you.”</p> - -<p>“I will try to walk in papa’s steps,” returned Neva, -lowly and gravely.</p> - -<p>“Lady Freise and my girls will call upon you to-morrow,” -said Sir John. “They sent their love to you,<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> -and would have come to-day, but that I begged them to -allow you a day to rest in after your journey. You will -be inundated with visitors, Miss Neva. The Lady of -Hawkhurst will not be permitted to hide her light under -a bushel! Lady Freise has already projected no end of -fetes, balls and dinners in your honor, and she has persuaded -our young friend Lord Towyn to spend a month -with us, so that you will not lack an escort, should you -desire one.”</p> - -<p>“You are very thoughtful, Sir John,” said Lady -Wynde, with a curl of the lip. “Miss Wynde, however, -can never lack for an escort. I fancied, when I saw you -three gentlemen enter in such formidable array, that -some horrid red-tape business was about to be transacted. -I did not know indeed but that you had come -with some official suggestions as to the management of -the household, or to discuss the matter of pin-money.”</p> - -<p>“All that is settled by Sir Harold’s will,” said Mr. -Atkins quietly. “The baronet was very explicit in his -directions, and assigned to Miss Wynde an extraordinarily -liberal allowance until she comes of age, when, of -course she comes into full possession of her magnificent -revenues. Your residence at Hawkhurst was also provided -for, Lady Wynde with a very handsome allowance -in recognition of your services to Miss Wynde as friend -and chaperon.”</p> - -<p>“And are we compelled to remain at Hawkhurst, -whether we will or not?” demanded the baronet’s -widow.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not,” replied Atkins. “You and Miss -Wynde are free to reside where you please, but it is -natural to suppose you will prefer for a stated residence -the seat of the family grandeur.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde made no reply, but her glittering eyes -became speculative.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[152]</span></p> - -<p>The visitors, while courteous to her ladyship, bestowed -the larger share of their attention upon the young heiress -to whom their visit was directed. They had intended -to make but a brief call, but the time flew by as if on -wings. Neva talked with them with cheerful gayety or -gravity, as the subject rendered befitting, and at Sir -John’s request played and sang for him. Lord Towyn -leaned over the piano, turning the music leaves, a rapt -expression on his face, and there was not one present, -save Neva, who failed to see that he was already the -lover of the beautiful young heiress.</p> - -<p>Rufus Black recognized the fact with an actual jealousy. -He said to himself with a furious bitterness that -his happiness and Lally’s had been ruined for the sake -of Neva Wynde, and he would not be cheated of fortune -and bride by the young earl.</p> - -<p>Craven Black sat apart, his forehead shaded by his -hand, his light eyes fairly devouring the glowing loveliness -of Neva’s face. He was a world-worn, base, dissolute -man, incapable of honor and fidelity, even to -the woman who had sinned and perilled so much for -him. As he sat there, he contrasted Neva’s spirited and -dainty beauty with the maturer and lesser charms of -Lady Wynde, and strange thoughts and hopes awoke to -life within his breast.</p> - -<p>“My fate is not so settled as to be irrevocable,” he -thought within himself. “I wish I had seen the girl -before I forged that letter. Why should I throw myself -away upon four thousand a year and a woman of -the world when, by skillful manœuvring, I might gain -seventy thousand per annum and a bride like an houri? -I will study my chances. If there is a chance for me -with Neva, I will run the race with these others and win -the prize.”</p> - -<p>And so, all unknown and unsuspected by Neva, she<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> -had three aspirants to her hand among those who listened -to her music.</p> - -<p>And of these three lovers, one only was pure and true -and altogether worthy of her love. Only one loved her -without a shadow of greed, and that one was the young -Lord Towyn.</p> - -<p>But which, should she choose among these three, -would she prefer? To whose fate, of these three, would -she link her own? Would a regard for the supposed -wishes of her dead father outweigh the desires of her -own heart? These were problems which time alone -could solve.</p> - -<p>After the music, Lady Wynde rang for coffee, which -was brought in and dispensed to the guests. Sir John -Freise, waxing eloquent upon the degeneracy of modern -society, held Lady Wynde captive. Rufus Black wandered -down the length of the drawing-rooms, looking -with an artist’s eye at the glorious pictures upon the -walls. Mr. Atkins and Craven Black engaged in conversation, -and Artress sat apart, silent and observing, as -usual.</p> - -<p>Lord Towyn and Neva also looked at the pictures -and talked of their childhood days, growing animated -over their pleasant reminiscences. The young earl -gradually drew his hostess into the great conservatory, -a huge glass dome at the bottom of the drawing-room. -Here the air was heavy with fragrance. Stalks of white -lilies sprang from the side walls, bearing pistils of red -and dancing light. Aisles of tropical shrubbery, thick -with golden fruitage or snowy blossoms, or both at once, -stretched on either side. A feathery palm reared its -plumed head in the very centre of the dome. Vines -trailed and festooned themselves from floor to roof, -dropping perfume from fiery chalices. And through -the light foliage of a well-trimmed jungle of flowers and<span class="pagenum">[154]</span> -leaves, gleamed a great mellow moon of light, reminding -one of a Brazilian forest on a moonlit summer night.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember when we were here last, Neva?” -asked Lord Towyn, as they paused beside the marble -basin of a great fountain, and Neva idly dropped rose -petals upon the crystal waters. “We were standing -upon this very spot, with only that marble Naiad to -hear us, and you and I were but children when we -entered upon our childish betrothal. How long ago -that seems! Do you remember it, Neva?”</p> - -<p>The rose petals in the girl’s white fingers were not -brighter than her cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember,” she said, dropping her head over -the bright waters. “What precocious children we were, -Lord Towyn.”</p> - -<p>The young earl sighed.</p> - -<p>“The utterance of my title shows the great gulf between -the now and the then,” he said. “I was no lord -in those days, and you called me Arthur. Now when -your name comes instinctively to my lips, I must remember -that you are no longer Neva, but Miss Wynde. -Why will you not call me by the old name, and let us -take up our old friendship where we left off, instead of -beginning anew as strangers?”</p> - -<p>“I am willing,” said Neva frankly, yet shyly. “I—I -look upon you as a brother, Arthur, and you may call -me Neva.”</p> - -<p>Strange to say, the permission thus granted did not -seem to delight Lord Towyn. His warm blue eyes -clouded over with a singular discontent, and a pained -expression gathered about his mouth.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to be considered as your brother, -Neva,” he declared, after a minute’s struggle with himself. -“I would prefer to begin again as your merest acquaintance. -A fraternal relation toward you would<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> -be insupportable. For years I have dreamed and hoped -that I might some time win your love. I am no longer -a boy, Neva, and I love you with a man’s love. I have carried -your picture for years next my heart. I have worshiped -you in secret ever since our childhood. I do not know -how I have been betrayed into this confession, Neva,” he -added. “I did not intend to be so premature. I do not -yet ask you to love or to marry me, but I do ask you to -allow me to become your suitor.”</p> - -<p>Neva’s heart thrilled under this ardent and impassioned -declaration as under an angel’s touch. Then a leaden -pall seemed to descend upon her soul, and her face grew -white, as she faltered:</p> - -<p>“It cannot be, Arthur.”</p> - -<p>Lord Towyn shivered with sudden pain.</p> - -<p>“You—you are not promised to another, Neva?”</p> - -<p>“N-no!”</p> - -<p>“You love another then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no!”</p> - -<p>“It is that I have startled you by my premature confession, -Neva?” he cried tremulously. “Dolt that I am! -I have thought and dreamed of you so much, that I had -forgotten how perfect a stranger I must seem to you -after all these years of separation. You cannot take up -the old life where we dropped it. I was foolish to have -expected it. Do not let my undue haste prejudice you -against me. It will not, Neva?”</p> - -<p>“No, Arthur,” answered the girl lowly and hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>“And you will give me a chance to reprieve my error?” -he demanded eagerly. “Perhaps in time you may grow -to love me, Neva—”</p> - -<p>“Arthur,” said the young girl, nerving herself to tell -him of her father’s supposed last wishes, “I have something -to say to you. Papa—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[156]</span></p> - -<p>Her voice died out in a half sob.</p> - -<p>“Well, darling?” said the young earl, bending nearer -to her, his eyes burning with the love that filled his being. -“What of Sir Harold? Did you fancy that he would -not have approved of our love?”</p> - -<p>Neva nodded a dumb assent.</p> - -<p>“And if Sir Harold had approved, do you think you -could learn to love me?” whispered the young earl softly, -his eager breath fanning the girl’s cheek.</p> - -<p>Neva’s silence was interpreted as a favorable answer.</p> - -<p>“Before my father died,” said Lord Towyn gently, -“he told me that it had long been his wish and that of -Sir Harold to unite the two families in our marriage. -Sir Harold was in India at the time of my father’s death, -and was not likely, at that distance from home, to have -contracted an aversion to me, or to have formed other -plans for your future. You see, I am right, Neva, and now -I claim to be considered as your suitor. May it not be?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Arthur,” the girl murmured, sorely perplexed, -“I—”</p> - -<p>The story trembled on her lips, but she did not give -utterance to it, for at that critical moment Rufus Black -entered the conservatory, and came up the flower-bordered -aisle, with an unmistakable displeasure upon his -melancholy face.</p> - -<p>Neva started guiltily at his approach, as if she had been -wronging him or her dead father in listening to Lord -Towyn’s avowals of love. But although she moved away -from the young earl, she paused under a tropical rose-tree, -and began to gather roses, and her two suitors hovered -about her, each recognizing in the other a rival.</p> - -<p>They were presently joined by Neva’s third lover, -Craven Black. The last-named looked moodily and -jealously at his son and the young earl, and devoted -himself so closely to the heiress that, with a feeling of<span class="pagenum">[157]</span> -annoyance, Neva presently proposed a return to the -drawing-room.</p> - -<p>A glance of jealous anger from the eyes of Lady -Wynde greeted Craven Black as he reentered the presence -of his betrothed. The baronet’s widow began to -entertain a suspicion of the disaffection of her lover.</p> - -<p>Sir John Freise was the first to propose a departure, -and the horses were ordered, and he, with Mr. Atkins -and Lord Towyn, took their leave.</p> - -<p>Craven Black exchanged a few whispered words with -Lady Wynde, appointing an interview for the next -morning, and then also departed with his son.</p> - -<p>They were to walk to Wyndham, and not a word was -spoken by either as they strode down the wide avenue, -and passed out at the lodge gates. Once out upon the -highway, Craven Black broke the silence, saying:</p> - -<p>“Well, Rufus, how do you like Miss Wynde?”</p> - -<p>“She is beautiful—lovely beyond comparison,” answered -Rufus enthusiastically. “I never saw a being -so witching, so bright, so sweet!”</p> - -<p>“You talk like a lover,” sneered Craven Black. “One -would not believe that you had been lying drunk all day -at a low inn through love for another woman.”</p> - -<p>“You will drive me mad!” ejaculated Rufus, his voice -choking suddenly. “How dare you taunt me with my -misery and degradation? I did love Lally—I do love -her, God knows. But you have separated us. She despises -me, and I am thrown upon myself. Why grudge -me the little comfort Miss Wynde’s presence and smiles -give me? If I had never met Lally, I should have idolized -Miss Wynde. And as Lally can never be mine -again—my poor wronged girl—and I shall go to perdition -unless some hand pulls me back, I turn to Miss -Wynde as a drowning man might turn to any frail support<span class="pagenum">[158]</span> -and cling to it. I—I like her. I could almost say -I love her.”</p> - -<p>“Enviable elasticity of youthful affections!” sighed -Craven Black, still sneeringly, and speaking in a stilted -voice. “You remind me of a child, Rufus, whose doll is -smashed to-day, but who is equally content with a new -one to-morrow. You remind me also of the old maid’s -prayer. She wanted one man and another, but as the -years went on and she grew old, she ceased to pray for -the affections of any man in particular, but cried out, -‘Any, O Lord, <em>any</em>!’ And so, I judge, one woman is to -you the same as another. It is ‘Lalla Rookh’ one day, -and Miss Wynde the next. ‘Extremes meet.’”</p> - -<p>Rufus grew terribly angry.</p> - -<p>“You talk as if you were dissatisfied with me for obeying -your own orders to make myself agreeable to Miss -Wynde,” he ejaculated. “Do you want her now for -yourself?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black hastened to disclaim any such desire.</p> - -<p>“As to me,” said Rufus, with unwonted decision, “I -will not be much longer dependent upon you. I will -win Miss Wynde and her fortune, or I’ll blow my brains -out. Lally is lost to me, but all is not lost, as I thought -this morning. I like Miss Wynde. I even love her -already, strange as it may seem, but I do not and cannot -love her as I love poor Lally. But I shall marry her -and make her happy. I am desperate, but by no means -helpless and hopeless.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black maintained a dogged silence during the -remainder of the walk. He bade his son good-night -coldly upon the inn stairs, and locked himself in his own -rooms, muttering:</p> - -<p>“The girl has three lovers, for my fickle son really -loves her. I must watch my chances, and not loosen my -hold upon Octavia until I have made sure of Neva. In<span class="pagenum">[159]</span> -default of the greater prize, I must not lose the lesser. It -requires some skill to sit upon two stools and not fall between -them. I wish I could have foreseen the turn affairs -would take, and had inserted my name in that forged letter -in place of my son’s name. I shall have to be pretty -keen to do away with the effect of that letter. I would -give all I own in the world at present to know which -of her three lovers will win the heiress of Hawkhurst.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">RUFUS ASKS THE MOMENTOUS QUESTION.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Craven Black and his son met at their late breakfast in -the private parlor of the former. The father was himself -again, cold, polite, and cynical. The son was sullen and -irritable, at war with himself and all mankind. His grief -for the loss of his young wife had lost none of its poignancy, -although he had avowed himself the suitor of another. -His thoughts during the night just passed had -been all of Lally, and not of Neva. In his dreams at -least, he was still true to the loving heart he had -broken.</p> - -<p>The pair were sipping their coffee when a waiter -brought in Mr. Black’s morning paper, just arrived from -London. Craven Black unfolded the sheet and scanned -its contents lazily.</p> - -<p>“Any news?” inquired Rufus.</p> - -<p>“Nothing particular. It’s all about a war in prospect -between Prussia and France. I never read politics, so I’ll -skip the French letter and alarming head lines. I prefer -to read the smaller items. Ah, what is this?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[160]</span></p> - -<p>Craven Black started and changed color as his eye -rested upon a familiar name in an obscure paragraph, -under a startling title. His agitation increased as he -glanced over the paragraph, taking in its meaning.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” demanded Rufus. “Any of -your acquaintance dead? Any one left you a fortune?”</p> - -<p>“It is terrible,” said Craven Black, shuddering, and regarding -the paper with horrified eyes. “How could she -have been so utterly foolish and insane? It was not I -who killed her.”</p> - -<p>“Killed whom? Then some one is dead?”</p> - -<p>“Poor girl!” muttered Craven Black, still staring at -the paper with wide eyes, as if he read there an accusation -of wilful murder. “Poor Lally—”</p> - -<p>“<em>Who?</em>”</p> - -<p>Rufus leaped to his feet with a shriek on his lips, -bounded to his father’s side, and snatched the paper in -his trembling hands.</p> - -<p>“I—I see nothing,” he cried. “You shocked me cruelly. -I—I thought that Lally— Oh, my God!”</p> - -<p>He stood as if suddenly frozen, staring as his father -had done at an item in a lower corner of the paper—an -item which bore the title: “Distressing Case of Suicide. -Another unfortunate gone to her death!”</p> - -<p>From the midst of this paragraph the name of Lalla -Bird stood out with startling distinctness.</p> - -<p>Unconsciously to himself, Rufus Black read the brief -paragraph aloud in a hoarse, strained, breathless sort of -voice, and his father listened with head bent forward, -and with a horrified look graven on his face, as upon -stone.</p> - -<p>“Last evening,” the notice read, “as officer Rice was -pursuing his usual beat, a young woman dashed past him, -bonnetless, her hair flying, and ran out upon Waterloo -Bridge. She was muttering wildly to herself, and her<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> -aspect was that of one beside herself. The officer, comprehending -her purpose, rushed after her, but he was too -late to arrest her in her dread purpose. She looked back -at him, sprang up to the parapet like a flash, and with -a last cry upon her lips—a name the officer could not -make out—she precipitated herself into the river. In -falling, her head struck a passing boat, mutilating her -features beyond all semblance of humanity. She was -dead when taken from the water, and will have a pauper’s -burial unless some one comes forward to claim her -remains. No token of her identity was found upon her -person, but her handkerchief, floating on the water and -picked up immediately by a boatman, bore the name of -Lalla Bird. The girl, for she was very young, was -pretty, and without doubt belonged to that frail class -which more than any other furnishes us suicides.”</p> - -<p>Rufus Black read this paragraph to the very end, and -then the paper fell from his nerveless hands.</p> - -<p>“Dead!” he said hollowly. “Dead!”</p> - -<p>“Dead!” echoed his father hoarsely.</p> - -<p>“<em>Dead!</em>” said Rufus Black, turning his burning, terrible -eyes upon his father’s face. “And it was you who -killed her! I loved her—I would have been true to her -all her days, but you tore us asunder, and drove her to -despair, madness and death. You are her murderer!”</p> - -<p>Craven Black started, nervously, and looked around -him.</p> - -<p>“Don’t, Rufus—don’t,” he ejaculated uneasily. “Some -one might hear you. The girl is to blame for killing -herself, and no one else can be held accountable for -it. I offered her money but she would not take it. It -was the landlady who drove her to the—the rash act. -The old woman listened at the door, and suddenly burst -in upon us and called the girl some foul name and<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> -ordered her out of her house. The girl fled as if pursued -by demons. I thought then she meant to kill herself—just -as she has done!”</p> - -<p>A groan burst from Rufus Black’s lips.</p> - -<p>“My poor, poor wife!” he moaned. “She <em>was</em> my -wife, and she shall not lie in a pauper’s grave. I am -going up to London—”</p> - -<p>“To make a fool of yourself,” interrupted Craven -Black, recovering from his shock. “And to-morrow -morning the papers will all come out with the romantic -story that this girl was your wife, and the story will stick -to you all your days. People will say that you drove -her to her death. Your chance of becoming master of -Hawkhurst will end on the spot. You will be cast out -and abhorred. Others as pretty and as good as this girl -have been buried at the public expense. Leave her alone.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot—”</p> - -<p>“Suppose you go then? What will you say to the -coroner, or police justice? What excuse will you have -for abandoning your wife, as you persist in calling the -girl? Shall you confess your perjury? Can you stand -the cross-questioning, the badgering, the prying into -your life and motives?”</p> - -<p>Rufus shrank within himself in a sort of terror. The -besetting weakness and cowardice of his nature now -paralyzed him.</p> - -<p>“I cannot go,” he muttered. “Oh, Lally, my lost -wronged wife!”</p> - -<p>He dashed from the room, and entered his own, locking -his door, and was not visible again that day.</p> - -<p>Craven Black attired himself in morning costume and -walked over to Hawkhurst. Neva was in the park, and he -had a long private interview with Lady Wynde. In returning -to his inn, he crossed the park, ostensibly to cut<span class="pagenum">[163]</span> -short his walk, but really to exchange a few words with -the heiress.</p> - -<p>He found her in one of the wide shaded paths, but she -was not alone. Lord Towyn, on his way to the house, -had just encountered her, and they were talking to each -other, in utter forgetfulness of any supposed obstacles to -their mutual love. Craven Black accosted them, and -lingered a few moments, and then pursued his way -homeward, while the young couple slowly proceeded -toward the house.</p> - -<p>Craven Black called at Hawkhurst the next day, and -the next, but alone, Rufus remaining obstinately sequestered -in his darkened chamber. Neva was busy with -visitors, Lady Freise and her daughters, and other friends -and neighbors, hastening to call upon the returned -heiress. Lord Towyn found excuses to call nearly every -day. He was devoting all his energies to the task of -wooing and winning Neva, and he pushed his suit with -an ardor that brought a cynical smile to Craven Black’s -lips continually.</p> - -<p>There were fetes given at Freise Hall in Neva’s honor; -breakfast and lawn parties at other houses; and the -young girl found herself in a whirl of gayety in strong -contrast with her late life of seclusion.</p> - -<p>During the week that followed the publication of the -announcement of Lally Bird’s suicide, Rufus Black did -not cross his threshold. He meditated suicide, and wept -and bemoaned his lost darling with genuine anguish. -During this week, Craven Black made various overtures -to Miss Wynde, uttered graceful compliments to her -when Lady Wynde was not within hearing, and threw a -lover-like ardor into his tones and countenance when -addressing her. But he could not see that he was regarded -by her with any favor, and grew anxious that -his son should again enter the lists, and win her from<span class="pagenum">[164]</span> -Lord Towyn, who seemed to be having the field nearly -to himself.</p> - -<p>After an energetic talk with his son, Craven Black -persuaded Rufus to emerge from his retirement and to -again visit Hawkhurst. There is a refining influence about -grief, and Rufus had never looked so well as when, habited -in black, his face pale, thin, and sharp-featured, his -eyes full of melancholy and vain regret, he again called -upon Neva. The impression he had made upon her -upon the occasion of his first visit had been favorable, -and it became still more favorable upon this second -visit. Neva received the impression, from his steady -melancholy and the occasional wildness of his eyes, that -he was a genius, and became deeply interested in him.</p> - -<p>Add to this interest the influence of the forged letter, -which she devoutly believed to have been written by her -father now dead, and one will see that even Lord Towyn -had in the boy artist a dangerous rival.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde steadily pursued her preparations for -her marriage, keeping a keen watch upon her lover, -whom she more than suspected of faithlessness to her. -She loved him with all her wicked soul, and was anxious -to secure him in matrimonial chains, but her engagement -to him had not yet been announced, and even Neva -did not know of it.</p> - -<p>By the exercise of Lady Wynde’s influence, the Blacks, -father and son, were invited to all the parties given in -Neva’s honor, and Rufus Black and Lord Towyn were -ever at the side of the young heiress. Lady Wynde -hinted judiciously to a few of her chosen friends that -Neva and young Black were informally betrothed, but -that the betrothal was still a secret.</p> - -<p>As the summer passed and September came, bringing -near at hand the time appointed for the marriage of -Lady Wynde and Craven Black, both the Blacks, father<span class="pagenum">[165]</span> -and son, became uneasy and restless. The former was -anxious to try his fate with Neva before committing -himself beyond retrieval with her step-mother. Rufus -had learned to love the heiress with a genuine love, not -as he had loved Lally, but still with so much of fervor -that he believed he could not live without her. His -grief for his young wife had not lessened, but time had -robbed the blow of its sharpest sting, and he thought -of Lally in heaven, while he coveted Neva on earth. He -grew anxious to put his faith to the test.</p> - -<p>A favorable opportunity was afforded him.</p> - -<p>Neva was fond of walking, and frequently took long -walks, despite the fact that she had carriages and horses -at command. One mild September evening, after her -seven o’clock dinner, she walked over to Wyndham village -to purchase at the general dealer’s some Berlin -wool urgently required for the completion of a sofa pillow, -or some such trifle, and sauntered slowly homeward -in the gloaming.</p> - -<p>Rufus Black, who was idly wandering in the streets -at the time, hurried after her and offered his escort, and -took charge of her parcel. They walked on together.</p> - -<p>As they emerged from the village into the open country, -Rufus felt that the hour had come in which to learn -his fate from Neva’s lips. He revolved in his mind a -dozen ways of putting the momentous question, but the -manner still remained undecided when Neva sat down -to rest upon a way-side bank in the very shadow of -Hawkhurst park.</p> - -<p>This bank was her favorite halting-place when going -on foot to or from Wyndham. It was shaded by a giant -oak, and clothed in the softest and greenest turf. Here -the earliest primroses blossomed and hearts-ease starred -the ground. Near the bank a small private gate opened -into the park. Rufus decided in his own mind that this<span class="pagenum">[166]</span> -was the spot, and this soft, deepening twilight the hour -for the avowal of his love.</p> - -<p>There was no one within the park within view to interrupt -him; no one coming along the road. With a -slight sense of nervousness he even surveyed a way-side -thicket that flanked the bank upon one side, as if fearing -some way-side tramp might be lurking there within -hearing, but he saw nothing to discountenance his projects.</p> - -<p>“It’s a lovely evening,” said Neva softly, looking up -at the shadowing sky and around her at the shadowed -earth. “The air is full of balm!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is lovely,” said Rufus, fixing his gaze upon -the young girl, as if he meant his remark to apply to -her face. “How the time has sped since I first saw you, -Miss Neva. Life was very dark to me in those July -days, but you have given it a glow and brightness I did -not dream that it could ever possess. It seems to me -that I never existed until—until I knew you. You cannot -fail to know that I love you. I have often thought -that you have purposely encouraged my suit. But be -that as it may, I love you more than all the world, Miss -Neva. Will you be my wife?”</p> - -<p>He waited in a breathless suspense for her reply.</p> - -<p>Neva’s face did not flush with joy, as it might have -done had the speaker been Lord Towyn. She looked -very grave, and into her eyes of red gloom came a sadness -that was terrible to see.</p> - -<p>“I like you, Rufus,” she said gently, looking beyond -him with a strange, far-seeing gaze. “I believe you to -be good and honorable—would to God I did not—for -then—then—Rufus, I do not know what to say to you. -What shall I answer you?”</p> - -<p>“Say Yes,” pleaded Rufus, with the energy of a gathering -terror. “Do not refuse me, Neva, I implore you. I<span class="pagenum">[167]</span> -am not handsome and titled like Lord Towyn; I am -plain and awkward, but I love you with all my soul. -I place my fate in your hands. I have it in me to become -great and good, and if you will be my wife I will be -noble for your sake. But if you cast me off, I shall -perish. In you are centred all my hopes. Oh, Neva, I -beseech you to be merciful to me, and to save me from -the utter misery of a life without you. I cannot—cannot -live if you cast me off!”</p> - -<p>He spoke with an earnestness that went to Neva’s soul. -She trembled, as if the burden of responsibility laid -upon her were too heavy to be borne. In her uplifted -eyes was a wild, beseeching look, as if she called upon -her father from his home in heaven to aid her now.</p> - -<p>“Remember,” said Rufus desperately, “you are deciding -upon my life or death—mortal and physical!”</p> - -<p>Neva read in the declaration an awful sincerity that -made her shudder.</p> - -<p>“I must think,” she faltered. “I cannot decide so -suddenly. Give me a week, Rufus—only a week in -which to decide. Oh,” she added, under her breath, -with a passionate emphasis, “if papa only knew! He -would have spared me this.”</p> - -<p>Rufus assented to the delay with a beaming face. If -she had intended to refuse him, he thought, she would -have done so on the spot. But she had not refused -him, and there was hope. She should be his wife, and -he would be master of Hawkhurst yet.</p> - -<p>In the midst of his self-gratulations, Neva arose and -walked slowly onward, grave and sorrowful. Rufus -walked beside her with a joyous tread.</p> - -<p>When they had passed on into the thickening shadows, -and the primrose bank had been left far behind, a -ragged, childish figure stirred itself from the further -shadow of the thicket, and a childish face, wan and<span class="pagenum">[168]</span> -thin and haggard, with a woman’s woe in the great -dark eyes, looked after the young pair with an awful -horror and despair.</p> - -<p>That face belonged to the disowned young wife whom -Rufus mourned as dead! The wild and woful eyes were -the eyes of Lally Bird!</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">THE YOUNG WIFE’S DESOLATION.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was indeed poor Lally Bird, the wronged young -wife, whom her husband mourned as dead, who, crouching -in the shelter of the way-side thicket, stared after -Neva Wynde and Rufus Black with eyes full of a burning -woe and despair.</p> - -<p>“He loves her! He loves her!” the poor young creature -moaned, in the utter abandonment of her terrible -anguish. “He said her answer meant life and death to -him! And I am so soon forgotten? Oh, he never loved -me—never—never! And he does love her with all his -soul—O Heaven!”</p> - -<p>She sank back into the deeper shadow of the thicket, -moaning and wringing her hands.</p> - -<p>Her hat had fallen off, and her face was upturned to -the gray evening sky. That face, still childlike in its -outlines and in its innocence, yet sharp of feature, wan, -thin and haggard, was full of wild beseeching. The -great hungry black eyes were upraised to Heaven in -agonized appeal.</p> - -<p>How terribly alone in all the wide world she was! Alone -and friendless, with no roof to shelter her, no food to<span class="pagenum">[169]</span> -break a long fast, no money. She was ragged and forlorn, -her feet peeping from their frail coverings, her -sharpened elbows protruding through her sleeves. And -now her last hope had been dashed from her, and it -seemed as if nothing remained to her but to die.</p> - -<p>The story of her life from the moment in which she -had fled from her dingy lodgings at New Brompton, had -been one of bitterness and privation.</p> - -<p>When she had escaped from her only shelter, half -maddened and wholly despairing, with the voices of -Craven Black and Mrs. McKellar yet ringing in her ears, -her first impulse had been self-destruction. She had -sped along the streets until, by a circuitous route, she -had gained the river and a jutting pier, but it was daylight, -and people were in waiting for the boats, so her -dread purpose was checked, and she wandered on, wild -of face and half distraught, keeping the river ever in -sight, as if the view of its waters soothed her mad despair.</p> - -<p>Wandering aimlessly onward, she passed through foul -river streets, where the vile of every sort congregated, -but no one spoke to her or molested her. The shield of -a watchful Providence interposed between her and all -harm. Once or twice some ruffian would have accosted -and stayed her, but a glance into her white and rigid face -and wild unseeing eyes made him shrink back abashed, -and she sped on as if pursued, not knowing the dangers -she had escaped.</p> - -<p>She grew weary of foot, and to the wildness of her -anguish succeeded a merciful apathy, which steeped her -senses. The night came on; the gas lamps were lighted -in the streets; the warehouses and shops were closed, -there were fewer women in the streets; and in happy -homes in the suburbs, at the north and south and east -and west of the great teeming city, wives and daughters<span class="pagenum">[170]</span> -were gathered into pleasant homes. But she had no -home, no refuge, no shelter. She had—oh, saddest of -words, and saddest of meaning—she had nowhere to -go!</p> - -<p>And so she plodded on, slowly and wearily now. She -had traversed miles since leaving her lodgings, and it -seemed as if her march, like that of the fabled Wandering -Jew, must be eternal.</p> - -<p>At last, still wandering without aim, she staggered -through the turn-gate and out upon the Waterloo Bridge, -in the wake of a party of returning play-goers. No one -noticed her, and she passed half-way over the bridge -and sank down upon one of the stone benches, while -the party she had followed went on and were soon lost -to view in the Waterloo Road.</p> - -<p>She was alone on the bridge, in the night and darkness. -Below her lay the dark river, with the small -steamers puffing and glancing through the gloom with -their tiny eyes of fire, and lowering their stack-pipes as -they passed under the bridge. A few people stood at -the landing below. Somerset House, dark and silent, -like some gigantic mausoleum, lay to her left. Along -the river banks were the great warehouses, long since -closed for the night, and in the distance the dome of St. -Paul’s reared its head, faint and shadowy, among the -deeper shadows.</p> - -<p>The glancing lights of the river boats, the lamps at the -landing and along the shores looked strangely unreal to -Lally’s dazed eyes. She crouched in a corner of the -seat and peered over the parapet and tried to think, but -her brain seemed paralyzed. The only thought that -came to her was that she was no wife, that Rufus had -abandoned and disowned her, and that he was to marry -another.</p> - -<p>People crossed the bridge in laughing groups as the<span class="pagenum">[171]</span> -Strand theatres and concert-halls closed, but no one paid -heed to, even if they saw, the slender, crouching figure -with its wild, fearing eyes. Sometimes, for many minutes -together, Lally was alone upon that portion of the -bridge—alone with her desperate soul and her terrible -temptation to end her sorrows in one fatal plunge.</p> - -<p>She arose in one of these intervals to her feet upon -the bench and leaned over the parapet, a prayer upon -her lips that Heaven would forgive the deed she meditated. -And, as she stood poised for the leap into eternity, -there came back to her, though years had passed -since she heard it, the voice of her mother, as she had -once listened to it, denouncing the self-murderer as one -who destroys his soul as well as his body. The remembrance -of the words, and the thought of her mother, -caused her to drop again into the corner of her bench -sobbing, and weeping a storm of tears that saved her -reason.</p> - -<p>The wild outburst of her anguish had been succeeded -by a strange dullness and apathy, when a woman—a -mere girl—“bonnetless, and her hair flying,”—as the -Blacks had read in the paper—came running upon the -bridge with moans upon her lips. Lally was as pure -and innocent as a little child, yet she knew at a glance -that this poor creature belonged to that class which is -often termed “unfortunate”—as Heaven knows they -are indeed, in every sense of the sad word. This girl -came up to the very niche where Lally was hidden, and -sprang upon the bench. She gave one wild look over -her shoulder, at the officer who pursued her, and then, -with the name of some man upon her lips, tossed up her -arms, and sprang over the parapet—into eternity!</p> - -<p>Lally uttered a cry of horror.</p> - -<p>“It might have been me!” was her first thought, and<span class="pagenum">[172]</span> -trembling and terrified, she looked over at the whirling -figure as it struck heavily upon the passing boat.</p> - -<p>And in the same instant Lally’s handkerchief, upon -which her name was marked, and which she had held in -her hand, dropped over the parapet upon the body of -the woman. That accident it was that changed poor -Lally’s destiny. For the poor suicide was she of whose -death Rufus Black read in the paper of the following -morning, and Lally’s handkerchief found upon the -water beside the dead girl gave the impression that the -suicide was Lally Bird.</p> - -<p>The presence of Lally upon the bridge escaped the -notice of the officer, who turned and ran along the -bridge to the end, and hurried down to the pier, whither -the rescued body of the suicide was being carried.</p> - -<p>People began to gather upon the bridge, seeming almost -to spring up miraculously, and Lally, fearing questioning, -or detention as witness of the suicide, arose and -went back by the way she had come, up Wellington -street, into the Strand. She was sufficiently herself by -this time to know that she must seek shelter for the -night; but where could she go? What respectable inn -would give shelter to one so forlorn of aspect, so utterly -alone as she? She would be driven forth as something -disreputable and unclean, should she demand lodgings -at such an inn. She had money in her pocket—the -share Rufus had given her of the ten pounds his father -had sent him—but she might almost as well have been -penniless, since her money could not procure her respectable -shelter for the night.</p> - -<p>There might be some home for friendly wanderers, -some asylum for respectable women, where she could -pass the dangerous hours of darkness, but she knew of -none. Such asylums are generally for reclaimed women, -not for those who have never gone astray. The<span class="pagenum">[173]</span> -omnibuses were still running, it not being yet midnight, -and Lally being too tired to walk further, signalled an -empty one and took her seat in it.</p> - -<p>A long ride followed over rough pavements, past -dingy rows of shops and houses, past small villas in -small gardens, looking like toy establishments, and -through a more sparsely settled region. Lally, overcome -with fatigue, dozed most of the time, and was -rudely awakened from her slumbers by the stopping of -the omnibus and the rough voice of the driver bidding -her alight.</p> - -<p>She got out, feeling quite dazed, and saw that the -omnibus had stopped at the end of its route, and that -the horses were already unhitched and being led into the -stable. She crept away, not knowing where to go, not -even knowing where she was.</p> - -<p>Plodding on wearily, now and then clinging to some -way-side fence or wall for a moment’s rest, she came out -upon a wide, deserted heath, open to whoever might -choose to camp upon it. This was Hampstead Heath. -She walked out upon the turf for some distance, and lay -down in the shelter of a furze patch, thinking she was -going to die. The skies were dark above her, and all -around her the black gloom brooded, covering her from -the sight of any tramps who might be taking their sleep -that summer night on that same broad common.</p> - -<p>And here Lally slept the sleep of utter weariness. She -awakened at the dawn of the new day, and started up, -with a wild look around her.</p> - -<p>There were donkeys of diminutive breed grazing -around her, a few tramps rising lazily from the ground, -and a score of industrious people, men, women, boys and -girls, digging up groundsel, chickweed and other green -weeds, to sell in the great city for the sustenance of -birds.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[174]</span></p> - -<p>Lally wonderingly surveyed this species of industry of -which she had not previously suspected the existence, -and then hastily took her departure, not even tempted -to prolong her stay by the offer of some bread and cheese -from an old, blackened chimney-sweep, who had evidently -also slept upon the heath.</p> - -<p>All thoughts of self-destruction had gone from her -mind, and the question as to her future course now presented -itself. The school with which she had formerly -been connected as music teacher was broken up, and -among the few people she had known there was one only -to whom she was tempted to go in her distress. That -one was an old, consumptive woman who had been -“wardrobe mistress” at the seminary during Lally’s stay -there—that is, the old woman had mended and darned -the garments of the pupils, and had supported herself -on her meagre pay. She lived at Notting Hill, the school -having been located in that neighborhood, and Lally -knew her address. The old woman had been kind to -her, and Lally resolved to seek her.</p> - -<p>She walked a portion of the distance, and availed herself -of the aid of omnibuses when she could. Yet the -morning was well on when the girl climbed the rickety -stairs to the garret of her old friend, and timidly knocked -for admittance.</p> - -<p>The old woman was at home, busy with her needle, -and gave Lally admittance. More—when she heard her -pitiful story—she gave the girl sympathy and the -tenderest kindness. She was very near her grave, and -very poor, but she offered Lally a share of her home, and -the girl gratefully accepted it. Here she ate breakfast. -During the day her old friend borrowed a copy of the -morning’s paper, as was her daily custom, and Lally read -in it the account of the suicide on Waterloo Bridge, her<span class="pagenum">[175]</span> -name being given—to her utter amazement—as that of -the self-murderess.</p> - -<p>Having a conviction that Rufus would see the same -notice, as indeed he had done, she visited the coroner’s -office with a yearning to see her young husband -as he should bend over the poor mutilated body believing -it to be her own, and to relieve his anguish and remorse. -But Rufus came not, and the suicide was buried -in a pauper’s grave.</p> - -<p>Lally went back to the garret at Notting Hill, with a -strange gloom on her face, and shared the labors of the -old seamstress, gradually assuming the entire support -of her friend, as the old woman’s strength failed. She -did all the sewing her friend—who was now wardrobe -mistress at a boys’ school—had engaged to do, and -nursed her with a daughter’s tenderness, actually starving -herself to nourish her only friend, watching by day -and night at her side, denying herself food, clothes, and -needed rest, to take care of the one who had befriended -her; but with all her care and kindness the old woman -faded day by day, and early in September died, invoking -with her last breath blessings on Lally’s name.</p> - -<p>The few sticks of furniture were sold to give the old -woman a decent burial. Lally was out of money—out -of everything. The superintendent of the boys’ school -refused to allow her to continue the duties she had performed -in the old woman’s name, alleging that she was -too young. And as a last blow, she was turned out of -her lodgings because of her inability to pay the rent.</p> - -<p>At this crisis of her history, when as it seemed only -death presented an open door to her, she resolved to go -down to Wyndham and look once more on her husband’s -face.</p> - -<p>To think, with our desperate Lally, was to act. She -set out to walk to Wyndham, working in the hop-fields<span class="pagenum">[176]</span> -for sustenance as she went. Thus she did three full days -of work before she arrived near her destination, and she -had crept into the way-side thicket to rest before continuing -her journey to Wyndham, when she chanced to -overhear the conversation between Neva Wynde and -Rufus Black.</p> - -<p>Her despair, as she listened to the words of her young -husband in declaring his love for Neva, may be imagined. -She did not dream how bitterly he had mourned for his -lost young wife; she did not dream that she was dearer -to him still than Neva could ever be. How could she -tell, when listening to his passionate vows of love to Miss -Wynde, that the young wife who had slept in his bosom -was in his thoughts by day and by night, and was regarded -by him as a holy, precious memory?</p> - -<p>“It’s all over!” she sobbed, pressing her face down -upon the dewy turf. “I am forgotten—but why should -I not be? I never was his wife. He said so himself in -his letter to me that I carry still next my heart. Not -his wife—but <em>she</em> will be! How beautiful she is! How -lovely her face was, how clear her voice. She would pity -me if she knew, but she is an heiress, I dare say, while I -am only the poor outcast Rufus has made me! Oh, -Rufus, Rufus!”</p> - -<p>She wailed aloud, but she had learned to bear her -griefs in silence, and presently she struggled to her feet -and walked in the direction in which the heiress and her -lover had gone—the same way by which Lally had recently -come.</p> - -<p>There was no need for her to go to Wyndham now. -Her presence there, or her appearance to Rufus, might -embarrass his relations to his newer love, and possibly -interfere with his marriage. He thought her dead, and -had not even come forward to claim the body he supposed -to be hers. Ah, yes, she had never been his wife,<span class="pagenum">[177]</span> -and she was forgotten. She would never cross his path -again.</p> - -<p>She staggered wearily along the road, in and out of -the beaten foot-path, with the twilight deepening around -her, and with a deeper twilight settling down upon her -heart and brain. She passed the Hawkhurst park, the -picturesque stone lodge guarding the great bronze gates, -and here she paused.</p> - -<p>The lodge was closed, and a faint light streamed out -through the dotted white curtains. Lally crept close to -the great gates formed of bronze spears tipped with gilt, -like the gates of the Tuileries gardens at Paris, and -pressing her face against the cool rods, looked up the -avenue.</p> - -<p>At the distance of half a mile or more, the great gray -stone mansion sat throned upon a broad ridge of land, -and lights flared from the wide uncurtained windows -far upon the terrace, and the glass dome of flowers was -all alight, and the stately old house looked to the homeless -wanderer down by the gates like Paradise.</p> - -<p>Her eager eyes searched the terrace, and then, inch -by inch, the great tree-arched avenue.</p> - -<p>Midway up the avenue, walking slowly, as lovers walk, -she saw her young husband and Neva Wynde. With -great jealous eyes she watched their progress through -the shadows, and, when they paused in the stream of -light upon the terrace, and Rufus Black bent low -toward the heiress, a great flame leaped into poor Lally’s -sombre eyes, and she caught her breath sharply.</p> - -<p>The heiress and her suitor stood for some moments -upon the terrace, unconscious of the eyes upon them. -Rufus declined to go into the house that evening, alleging -his agitation as an excuse. Neva took her small parcel -which he had carried, and he seized her hand, uttering -passionate words of love, and begging her to look<span class="pagenum">[178]</span> -favorably upon his suit. Then not waiting for an answer, -he pressed her hand to his lips, and dashed down -the avenue toward the gates, while Neva entered the -house.</p> - -<p>And all this the jealous, disowned wife saw, with her -face growing death-like, and the flame burning yet more -brightly in her sombre eyes.</p> - -<p>“She has accepted him,” she muttered. “She will -not take the week to consider his suit. They are betrothed. -I was sure she lived here. Perhaps she owns -the place, and he will be its master. They will both be -rich and happy and beloved, while I—Ah, how swiftly -he comes! He walked like that the night <em>I</em> accepted -him. But I am not his wife; I never was, even when I -thought myself so. He must not see me. No shadow -from the past must darken his happy life—his and hers. -It is all over—all over—and I shall never see his face -again!”</p> - -<p>With one last, long lingering look, and a sob that -came from her very soul, she turned and sped down the -road like a mad creature—away from Wyndham, and -Rufus, and all her hopes—going, ah, where?</p> - -<p>And Rufus, with his new love-dream glowing in his -soul, came out of the Hawkhurst grounds, and hurried -toward his inn, never dreaming how near he had been -to his lost wife, nor how surely he had lost her.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">ONE OF NEVA’S LOVERS DISPOSED OF.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Upon his return to the Wyndham inn, Rufus Black -found his father awaiting him in their private parlor. -The elder Black arched his brows inquiringly as his son -came in, and Rufus bowed to him gayly, as he said:</p> - -<p>“Well, father, you ought to be pleased with me now. -I have offered myself to Miss Wynde.”</p> - -<p>Craven Black started.</p> - -<p>“She has accepted you?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“Not yet. She wants to think the matter over, and I -have consented to let the thing rest where it is for a -week. I take it as a good sign that she did not refuse -me at once. Her hesitation implies a regard for me—”</p> - -<p>“Or a sense of duty toward some one else,” muttered -Craven Black. “Curse that letter. If I had seen the -girl, I would never have written it.”</p> - -<p>“What is it you say, father? I did not catch your -words.”</p> - -<p>“They were not meant for your ears. So, Miss Wynde -demands a week in which to consider your offer? It -would be proper for you to refrain from going to Hawkhurst -to-morrow. I’ll explain to her that you remained -away from motives of delicacy.”</p> - -<p>“Which I shall not do,” said Rufus doggedly. “I -shall go to Hawkhurst to-morrow evening. I will not -leave the field clear to Lord Towyn. He’s an earl, rich, -handsome, and intellectual, the very man to capture a -girl’s heart, and if I know myself, I am not going to give -him a clear field. Why, he loves her better than I do -even, and I can only come out ahead of him by dint of<span class="pagenum">[180]</span> -sheer persistency. It’s a mystery to me how she refrained -from saying No to me, when she can have Lord Towyn -if she chooses. There is something behind her hesitation—some -hidden cause—”</p> - -<p>“Which you will do well to let alone,” interposed his -father. “‘Take the goods the gods provide’ without -questioning.”</p> - -<p>Rufus was not satisfied, but concluded to act upon this -advice.</p> - -<p>The next morning Craven Black attired himself with -unusual care, and mounted his piebald horse, a new purchase, -and set out alone, at a slow canter, for Hawkhurst. -He knew that the heiress usually took a morning -ride, attended only by her groom, and he knew in -what direction these rides usually lay. It was impossible -for him to demand a private interview with her at -her home without exciting the suspicions and jealousy -of Lady Wynde, and he was determined to see the -heiress alone, and discover in what estimation she held -him. He was also determined not to accept quietly the -four thousand a year of the baronet’s widow until he -knew, beyond all peradventure, that he could not obtain -the seventy thousand per annum of the baronet’s -daughter.</p> - -<p>He rode up to Hawkhurst lodge, slackening his speed, -but not pausing. As it happened, a little boy, a son of -the lodge keeper, was playing in the road, and Craven -Black tossed him a sixpence, and demanded if Miss -Wynde were out riding, and which way she had gone.</p> - -<p>“Dingle Farm way,” said the urchin, scrambling in -the dust for the shining coin. “She’s been gone a long -time.”</p> - -<p>“Who is with her?” asked Craven Black.</p> - -<p>“Jim, the groom—that be all.”</p> - -<p>Black put spurs to his horse and dashed on. He knew<span class="pagenum">[181]</span> -where the Dingle Farm was, it having been pointed out -to him by Lady Wynde, as a portion of the Hawkhurst -property. The ride was a favorite one with Neva, being -unusually diversified. The road led through the Dingle -wood, across a common, and skirted a chalk-pit of unusual -size and depth.</p> - -<p>Craven Black turned off from the main road into a -narrower one that led across the country, and pursued -this course until he entered into the cool shadows of the -Dingle wood. Still riding briskly, he came out a little -later upon the Dingle common, a square mile of unfenced -heath, covered with furze bushes. At the further -edge of the common was the chalk-pit, now disused. -The road ran dangerously near to the precipitous side -of the pit, and there was no railing or fence to serve as a -safeguard. Beyond the chalk-pit lay the Dingle Farm, -a cozy, red brick farm-house, embowered with trees.</p> - -<p>The morning was clear and bright, and the sun was -shining. As Craven Black emerged from the shadow of -the wood he swept a keen glance over the level common, -and beheld a mile or more away, beyond the chalk-pit, -but approaching it, the figure of Miss Wynde.</p> - -<p>She was superbly mounted upon a thoroughbred -horse, and was followed at a little distance by her -groom.</p> - -<p>Even at that distance, Craven Black noticed how well -Neva sat her horse; how erectly she carried her lithe, -light figure; how proudly the little head was poised upon -her shoulders. She was coming on toward him at a -sweeping gait, her long green robe fluttering in the -swift breeze she made.</p> - -<p>“She will be a wife to be proud of,” thought Craven -Black, with a strange stirring at his heart. “How fearless -she is. One would think she would pass the<span class="pagenum">[182]</span> -chalk-pit at a walk, but it is evident she does not intend -to.”</p> - -<p>He dashed on to meet her. Neva saw him coming, -recognized him, and the close grasp upon her bridle -rein relaxed, and the fierce gallop subsided into a quiet -canter.</p> - -<p>She was past the chalk-pit when he came up to her, -and she bowed to him coldly, but courteously.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Miss Wynde,” said Mr. Black. “You -were having a mad ride here. I fairly shuddered when -I saw you coming. A single sheer on the part of your -horse would have sent you over the precipice.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Badjour and I understand each other,” said -Neva lightly, patting the horse’s proudly arched neck. -“I never ride a horse, Mr. Black, if I have not confidence -in my ability to control him.”</p> - -<p>“But the road is so narrow and dangerous at this -point,” said Craven Black, wheeling and riding slowly -at her side.</p> - -<p>“You are right, Mr. Black. The road must be fenced -in. I will speak to Lord Towyn about it.”</p> - -<p>“And why not to Sir John Freise or Mr. Atkins, who -are equally your guardians?” asked Craven Black, with -an attempt at playfulness.</p> - -<p>“Because I presume I shall see Lord Towyn first,” -replied Neva, gravely. “What do you say to a race, Mr. -Black? I see that you are returning with me.”</p> - -<p>Craven Black looked over his shoulder. The discreet -groom had fallen behind out of earshot. Now was the -time to make his declaration of love. Such an opportunity -might not again occur.</p> - -<p>“The truth is, Miss Wynde,” he exclaimed, “I came -out to meet you. I want to have a quiet talk with you, -if you will hear me.”</p> - -<p>Neva bowed her head gravely, and her reins fell<span class="pagenum">[183]</span> -loosely in her gauntleted hand. They were out upon -the wide common now, the Dingle farm behind them. -The Dingle wood ahead.</p> - -<p>“You may guess the nature of the communication I -have to make to you, Miss Wynde,” said her elderly -lover, with an appearance of agitation, a portion of -which was genuine. “That which I have to say would -be more fittingly said in some other position perhaps. I -should prefer to say it on my knees to you, as the -knights made love in olden times.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Neva. “Hadn’t we better move on faster, -Mr. Black?”</p> - -<p>“Coquettish like all of your sex!” said Craven Black, -drawing nearer to her. “You understand my meaning, -Neva? You know that I love you—I who never loved -before—”</p> - -<p>“Surely,” cried Neva, with an arch sparkle in her red-brown -eyes, “you did not perjure yourself when you -married the mother of your son?”</p> - -<p>Craven Black bit his lips fiercely, but said smilingly:</p> - -<p>“That marriage was one of convenience. No love -entered into it, on my side, at least. I never loved till I -met you, fair Neva. You have younger suitors, but not -one among them all who will be to you what I would be—your -slave, your minister, your subject.”</p> - -<p>“And I should want my husband to be my king,” -murmured Neva softly. “And I would be his queen.”</p> - -<p>“That arrangement would suit me perfectly,” declared -Craven Black, feeling a little awkward at his -love-making, not altogether sure Neva was not secretly -laughing at him, yet eagerly catching at the assistance -her words afforded him. “I would be your king, Miss -Neva—”</p> - -<p>He paused in anger, as the girl’s light laugh made -music in his ears that he by no means appreciated. His<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> -anger deepened, as Neva looked at him with a bright -sauciness, a piquant witchery of eyes and mouth.</p> - -<p>“You are very kind,” the girl laughed, “but I do not -think—pardon me, Mr. Black—that you are of the stuff -of which kings of the kind I meant are made!”</p> - -<p>Craven Black’s fair face flushed. He tugged at his -light beard with nervous fingers. An angry light -glowered in his light eyes.</p> - -<p>“I may not know the full meaning of your words, -Miss Neva,” he said, forcing himself to speak calmly. -“A romantic young girl like you is sure to have many -fancies which time will prune. A young girl’s fancy is -like the overflowing of some graceful rose-tree. When -time shall have picked off a bud here, a leaf there, or a -half-blown rose elsewhere, the remainder of the blossoming -will be more perfect. I am no knight of romance, -but I am not aware that there is anything ridiculous -in my face or figure. Ladies of the world have -smiled graciously upon me, and more than one peeress -would have taken my name had I but asked her. My -heart is fresh and young, full of romantic visions like -yours. My love is honest, and a king could offer no -better. Miss Wynde, I ask you to be my wife!”</p> - -<p>Neva’s face was grave now, but the sparkle was still -in her eyes, as she said:</p> - -<p>“I am sure I beg your pardon, Mr. Black, but I -thought you were a suitor of Mrs. Artress. I never had -an idea that your visits were directed to me. I am -deeply grateful for the honor you have done me—I suppose -that is the proper remark to make under the -circumstances; the ladies in novels always say it—but -I must decline it.”</p> - -<p>“And why, if I may be allowed to ask?” demanded -Craven Black, his face deepening in hue nearly to<span class="pagenum">[185]</span> -purple. “Why this insulting refusal of an honest offer -of marriage, Miss Wynde?”</p> - -<p>Neva regarded her angry suitor with cool gravity.</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon if the manner of my refusal -seemed insulting,” she said gently, “but the idea seems -so singular—so preposterous! At the risk of offending -you again, Mr. Black, I must suggest that a union with -Mrs. Artress would be more suitable. I am only a girl, -and young still, as you know, and it is proper that youth -should mate with youth.”</p> - -<p>“You prefer my son then?”</p> - -<p>“To you? I do.”</p> - -<p>“And you will marry him?”</p> - -<p>The lovely face shadowed, but Neva answered -quietly:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Rufus has asked me that question, sir, and I -prefer to have him receive his answer from my lips. -Whatever my feelings toward him, I have no indecision -in regard to you.”</p> - -<p>“And you actually and decidedly refuse me?”</p> - -<p>“Actually and decidedly, Mr. Black!”</p> - -<p>“Is there no hope that you may change your mind -Miss Wynde? Will no devotion upon my part affect -your resolution?”</p> - -<p>“None whatever. I cannot even give your proposal -serious consideration, Mr. Black. I am willing to regard -you as a friend. As a lover, pardon me, you would be -intolerable to me.”</p> - -<p>Neva spoke with an honest frankness that increased -Craven Black’s anger. He saw that he had no chance -of winning her love or her fortune, and it behooved him -not to lose the lesser fortune and lesser charms of her -step-mother. He tried to take his failure philosophically, -but in refusing his love, Neva had made him her -bitter and unscrupulous enemy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[186]</span></p> - -<p>“I accept my defeat, Miss Wynde,” he said bitterly, -“and resign all my pretensions to your hand. Pardon -my folly, and forget it. I hope my son will meet with -better success in his suit. And may I ask as a favor that -you will keep my proposal secret, not even telling it to -your step-mother?”</p> - -<p>“I am not in the habit of boasting of such things, -even to Lady Wynde,” said Neva, coldly. “Your proposal, -Mr. Black, is already forgotten.”</p> - -<p>They were in Dingle wood now, and the heiress struck -her horse sharply and dashed away at a canter. Craven -Black kept pace with her, and at a discreet distance -behind followed the liveried groom.</p> - -<p>Neither spoke again until they were out of the wood, -and had traversed the cross-road and gained the highway. -When the gray towers of Hawkhurst loomed up -in full view, their speed slackened, and Craven Black -said hastily:</p> - -<p>“One word, Miss Wynde. I have your solemn promise, -have I not, that you will never betray the fact that -I have proposed marriage to you?”</p> - -<p>Neva bowed haughtily.</p> - -<p>“Since you have not confidence in my delicacy,” she -said, “I will give the promise.”</p> - -<p>Craven Black’s face flushed with something of triumph. -He was still smarting with his anger and disappointment, -still secretly foaming with a bitter rage, but -he desired to show Neva that he was not at all crushed -or humiliated.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he said. “I shall rely upon that promise. -The truth is, Miss Neva, a betrayal of my secret -would cause me serious trouble. Ladies never pardon -even a slight and temporary disaffection like mine. I -am engaged to be married, and my promised bride is the -most exacting of women. She would rage if she knew<span class="pagenum">[187]</span> -that I had looked with love upon one so many years -her junior.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! You will marry Artress then?”</p> - -<p>“Artress?” ejaculated Black, in well-counterfeited -amazement. “What, marry the companion when I can -have the mistress? No, indeed, Miss Neva. I am engaged -to Lady Wynde!”</p> - -<p>“To Lady Wynde—to my father’s widow?”</p> - -<p>Black bowed assent.</p> - -<p>Neva was astounded. She had been too busy with -her friends since her return to Hawkhurst to detect the -real object of Craven Black’s visits, and both Lady -Wynde and Black had conspired to hoodwink her. She -had never contemplated the possibility of Lady Wynde -marrying for the third time. The idea almost seemed -sacrilegious. Her father had seemed to her so grand -and noble, so above other men, that she had not deemed -it possible for a woman who had once been honored -with his love to marry another.</p> - -<p>“It is like Marie Louise, who married her chamberlain -after having been the wife of Napoleon,” she -thought. “It is incredible. I refuse to believe it!”</p> - -<p>Her incredulity betrayed itself in her face.</p> - -<p>“You don’t believe it?” said Black, with a mocking -smile. “It is true, I assure you. Lady Wynde and I -became engaged before your return from school. We -are to be married next month. Her trousseau is secretly -preparing in London.”</p> - -<p>His manner convinced Neva that he spoke the truth.</p> - -<p>“And so,” she said, her lip curling, “when your wedding-day -is so near, and the woman you have won is -making ready for your marriage, you amuse yourself in -talking love to me! And that is your idea of honor, -Mr. Black? You are well named. Craven by name, and -Craven by nature!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[188]</span></p> - -<p>She inclined her head haughtily and dashed on. Black, -choking with rage, hurried in close pursuit. The lodge -gates swung open at their approach, and they galloped -up the avenue. Lady Wynde came out upon the terrace -to meet them. Neva dismounted at the carriage porch, -the terrace being only upon one side of the mansion, and -with a haughty little bow to Lady Wynde passed into -the house.</p> - -<p>Black dismounted and gave his horse in charge of the -stable lad who had taken in hand the horse of Neva, -and then walked toward the open drawing-room window -with his betrothed wife.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter between you and Neva, Craven?” -asked Lady Wynde jealously. “You look as black as a -thundercloud, and she looked like an insulted queen. -What have you been saying to her?”</p> - -<p>“I thought it time to divulge our secret to her, my -darling,” said Black hypocritically. “Our wedding-day -is so near that I deemed it best to inform her. I met her -out riding, and seized upon the occasion to declare the -truth.”</p> - -<p>“And what did she say?”</p> - -<p>“She fairly withered me with her scorn; recommended -me to marry Matilda Artress; and seemed to regard my -marriage with her father’s widow as a species of sacrilege. -I hate her!” he hissed between his clenched -teeth.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde smiled, well-pleased.</p> - -<p>“And so do I,” she acknowledged frankly. “But it -is for our interest to counterfeit friendship for her. Be -patient, Craven. Some day you and I may bring down -her haughty pride to the dust.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose she refuses Rufus?”</p> - -<p>“You and I will soon be married, Craven, and in our -union is strength. Tell Rufus to write to Neva, delaying<span class="pagenum">[189]</span> -her answer to his suit for a month. By that time we shall -be married. If she refuses then to accept your son as her -husband, we can contrive some way to compel her -obedience. I am her step-mother and guardian, and -have authority which I shall use if I am pushed to the -wall. I promise you, Craven, that we shall secure our -ten thousand a year out of Neva’s fortune, and that we -shall compel the girl to marry your son. Leave it all to -me. Only wait and see!”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">NEVA’S CHOICE FORESHADOWED.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>In accordance with the advice of his scheming father, -Rufus Black wrote a letter to Neva Wynde entreating -her to take a month or six weeks, instead of the single -week for which she had stipulated, for the consideration -of his suit. And Neva, struggling between conflicting -feelings, whose nature the reader already knows, and -glad to be relieved of the necessity for an immediate -decision, gratefully accepted the offered reprieve.</p> - -<p>The engagement of Craven Black and Lady Wynde, -now that it had been declared to Neva, was no longer -kept a secret from the world. Mr. Black, in a moment -of good-natured condescension, informed his host at the -Wyndham inn, and the amazed landlord bruited the -story through the village. The engagement was publicly -announced in the court papers, Craven Black himself -writing the paragraph and procuring its insertion, -and this announcement was copied into the Kentish -journals.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[190]</span></p> - -<p>As may be imagined, the news of Lady Wynde’s intended -marriage produced quite a sensation in the neighborhood -of Hawkhurst. Sir Harold Wynde’s former -friends were scandalized that he should have been so -soon forgotten by the wife he had idolized, and that a -man so palpably inferior to the baronet in character and -attributes should have been chosen to take his place. -Others, the three guardians of Neva’s property among -the number, were ill-pleased that Craven Black should -take his place during Neva’s minority as nominal master -of Hawkhurst, and accordingly one morning, a fortnight -after the publication of the engagement, Sir John Freise, -Mr. Atkins, and Lord Towyn, rode over to Hawkhurst, -and demanded an interview with Lady Wynde and -Neva.</p> - -<p>Miss Wynde appeared first in the drawing-room, simply -dressed in white, and fresh from a ramble in the park. -She looked a little worn and troubled, as if her nights -were spent more in anxious thoughts than in slumbers, -but the radiance of her wonderful red-brown eyes was -undimmed, and her face had lost nothing of the piquant -witchery which was its chiefest charm.</p> - -<p>Before time had been granted Neva to more than -exchange greetings with her guardians, Lady Wynde -entered the room with an indolent languor of motion, -and welcomed her visitors with effusion.</p> - -<p>“This is an unexpected pleasure, gentlemen,” said her -ladyship, her black eyes glancing from one to another. -“You have come to congratulate me upon the change in -my prospects, I dare say. I have been overwhelmed -with calls during the past week, and begin to find my -connection with an old county family decidedly onerous,” -and she laughed softly. “All of Sir Harold’s -friends have been to see me, and really I believe that -some of them have felt it their duty to condole with<span class="pagenum">[191]</span> -Neva upon the misfortune of so soon possessing a step-papa.”</p> - -<p>The three gentlemen had called for the purpose of -discussing with Lady Wynde and Neva the expected -change in the prospects of her ladyship, but the quiet -audacity of the handsome widow’s speech and manner -half-confounded them.</p> - -<p>Sir John Freise, being the eldest of the party, took -upon himself the office of spokesman.</p> - -<p>“I was an old friend of Sir Harold, Lady Wynde,” he -said, a little stiffly. “I was a man when Sir Harold was -a boy, but I knew him well, and I loved him. I know -how deeply he was attached to you, and it is for his sake -that I have now intruded upon you. You are still young, -and with your attractions and your fortune you are peculiarly -liable to be beset by fortune-hunters. As your -late husband’s most intimate friend, I desire to ask you -if you have well considered this step you are about to -take?”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde bowed a cold assent.</p> - -<p>“Your knowledge of the character of Mr. Black can -be but slight,” persisted Sir John Freise, leaning his -chin upon the gold knob of his walking-stick, and regarding -the handsome widow with troubled eyes. “He -has been at Wyndham but a few months. I grant that -he is of attractive exterior, Lady Wynde, but what do -you know of his character? I have not come here to -make any charges against Mr. Black but those I am prepared -to substantiate. These gentlemen who have accompanied -me will bear me out in the statement that I -have no personal prejudices in the matter, and that I am -actuated only by a desire for your ladyship’s happiness -and that of Miss Wynde. I have written to London -since hearing the report of your engagement, and yesterday -received a reply of so much moment that I summoned<span class="pagenum">[192]</span> -Lord Towyn from his marine villa and Mr. Atkins -from Canterbury to accompany me into your presence, -and assist me to impart to you the unpleasant -news. Lady Wynde, this Craven Black, your accepted -lover, is a scoundrel, a gamester, a man unworthy your -consideration for a moment.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed!” said Lady Wynde, with a slight sneer. -“Mr. Black, to my knowledge, goes in the first society. -He visited at the Duke of Cheltenham’s last year, and -the duke is a perfect Puritan, as every one knows.”</p> - -<p>“The Duke of Cheltenham is a distant connection of -Mr. Black, and invited him to his house with the hope -of winning him into better courses,” said Sir John -gravely. “But it is not Mr. Black’s high connections, -but the man himself, with whom your destiny is to be -linked, Lady Wynde. I implore you to consider your -decision. Better to remain for ever the honored widow -of Sir Harold Wynde than to become the wife of Mr. -Craven Black.”</p> - -<p>“I do not think so,” said her ladyship, her sneer deepening. -“I believe I am competent to choose for myself, -Sir John, and it is <em>my</em> happiness, you will be pleased to -remember, which is at stake. I resent your interference, -as uncalled for and intrusive. I shall marry Mr. Craven -Black in two weeks from to-day, and if you do not -approve the marriage I presume you will be able to -testify your disapproval by remaining away from the -wedding.”</p> - -<p>Sir John looked deeply pained; Mr. Atkins looked -disgusted. Lord Towyn’s warm blue eyes were directed -toward Neva rather than toward Lady Wynde, but he -lost nothing of the conversation.</p> - -<p>“I have performed only my duty in warning you, -Lady Wynde,” said Sir John, after a pause. “You are -bent upon this marriage with a man who was a stranger<span class="pagenum">[193]</span> -to you three months since, and so soon after the tragic -death of Sir Harold Wynde in India?”</p> - -<p>“I have waited a year and three months before marrying -again,” declared Lady Wynde, impatiently. “Why -should I wait longer? Surely a year of mourning is all -that custom requires. And as to not knowing Mr. Black, -permit me to say that I know him well. I knew him -before I ever met Sir Harold. Frequenting the same -circles in town, and meeting more than once at the same -houses in the country, it is impossible that I should not -have known him. And here I beg you will drop the -subject. I am in no mood to hear your aspersions of an -honorable man, and your jealousy for the memory of -Sir Harold Wynde need not blind you to the fact that -virtue and honor did not die with him.”</p> - -<p>Sir John looked shocked and amazed. Neva’s face -paled, and a sudden indignation flamed in her eyes, but -she remained silent.</p> - -<p>“I think, with all deference to your opinion, Sir John,” -said Mr. Atkins, “that, as Lady Wynde suggests, we -would better drop the subject of Mr. Black. It is difficult -to convey unpleasant information in a case like this without -giving offence. We have done our duty, and that -must content us. Let us now come to the actual business -in hand. Allow me to ask you, Lady Wynde, if you -intend to continue your residence at Hawkhurst after -becoming Mrs. Craven Black?”</p> - -<p>A flash of defiance shot from her ladyship’s black -eyes.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, I intend to reside here with my husband -during the minority of my step-daughter,” she declared -boldly. “I am Neva’s guardian, and my residence as -such was assigned at Hawkhurst.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold never contemplated a state of affairs such -as you propose Madam,” said Mr. Atkins doggedly.<span class="pagenum">[194]</span> -“To make this Mr. Craven Black nominal master of -the home of the Wyndes is something utterly unlooked -for.”</p> - -<p>“Where I am mistress, my husband will be master!” -asserted Lady Wynde, with temper.</p> - -<p>“It should be so,” declared Mr. Atkins, “but you see -how inappropriate it would be to make Mr. Black master -of Hawkhurst. Good taste—pardon my plainness—would -dictate your ladyship’s retirement from Hawkhurst -upon the occasion of your third marriage, and we -have come to propose that Hawkhurst be closed, Miss -Neva transferred to the guardianship of Sir John Freise -and Lady Freise, and that you and your new husband -take up your abode at Wynde Heights, your dower house, -or at any other place you may prefer.”</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde frowned her anger and defiance.</p> - -<p>“I shall remain at Hawkhurst,” she exclaimed haughtily. -“If you desire to remove me, you must do so by -process of law. If you think her father’s wife an unfit -personal guardian for Miss Wynde, you can have Sir -Harold’s will set aside, or take legal proceedings to obtain -for her another guardian. I shall not relinquish my -post, or the charge my dead husband reposed in me, until -I am compelled to do so.”</p> - -<p>The young Lord Towyn’s face flushed, and he addressed -Neva, in his clear ringing voice:</p> - -<p>“Miss Wynde, this matter concerns you above all -others, and it is for you to have a voice in it. The proposed -marriage of Lady Wynde completely vitiates your -present relations to her. In becoming Mrs. Craven Black, -I consider that Lady Wynde throws off all allegiance to -Sir Harold Wynde, and ceases to be your step-mother. -It is for you to decide if you will choose a new personal -guardian in her stead.”</p> - -<p>All eyes turned upon the fair young girl. The young<span class="pagenum">[195]</span> -earl awaited her reply with a breathless anxiety. Sir John -Freise and Mr. Atkins fixed their eager gaze upon her, -and Lady Wynde regarded her sharply and with some -uneasiness.</p> - -<p>“Before Neva comes to a decision,” said her ladyship -hastily, “I have a word to say to her. Have I not treated -you with all kindness and tenderness, Neva, since you -came under this roof? Have I been guilty of one act of -neglect, of step-motherly cruelty, or want of consideration? -Have not your wishes been considered in all -things?”</p> - -<p>Neva could not answer these questions in the negative.</p> - -<p>“There is no stipulation in Sir Harold’s will that I -should not again marry,” continued Lady Wynde. “Sir -Harold, without mention of the contingency of another -marriage on my part, constituted me his daughter’s personal -guardian, with the request that I make Hawkhurst -my home until Neva marries or attains her majority. Not -one word is said about or against my marriage, you will -observe; and certainly Sir Harold Wynde was too sensible -to expect me to remain a widow long—at my age -too. My marriage, therefore, does not interfere with my -relations toward Neva as her step-mother and personal -guardian. Any court of law will confirm this decision. -If you choose, Neva, to apply for a change of guardians, -and to make a scandal, and to make your name common -on every lip, I can only regret your ill-taste, and that you -have yielded to such ill-guidance.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Atkins felt a sentiment of admiration mingle with -his dislike for Lady Wynde.</p> - -<p>“She ought to have been a lawyer,” he thought. “She’s -a mighty sharp woman, and we are sure to get the worst -of it in a battle with her. Pity we made the attack, if it -is only to put her on her guard.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[196]</span></p> - -<p>Neva was still considering the matter intently. She -had a thorough contempt for Craven Black, and disliked -the prospect of being under the same roof with him, but -she dreaded still more the publicity that would be given -to her application for change of guardians. She remembered -her father’s many injunctions to cling to Lady -Wynde until her own marriage, or the attainment of her -majority. Lady Wynde had not been unkind to her, nor -illy fulfilled her duties as chaperon. Neva had actually -nothing of which to complain, save Lady Wynde’s proposed -marriage. She was a conscientious girl, and she -could not decide to throw off the yoke her father had -placed upon her shoulders, simply because Lady Wynde -had chosen to enter into new relations which were not -likely to affect the old. She felt that she was placed in -a cruel position, but her duty, she thought, was plain to -her.</p> - -<p>“Well, what is your decision, my child?” asked Sir -John Freise paternally.</p> - -<p>“You are very kind to me, Sir John, and you also, -Lord Towyn and Mr. Atkins,” said the young girl tremulously, -“and I cannot properly express my gratitude to -you for your concern for me. I appreciate all you have -said, all that you mean. I own that Lady Wynde’s intended -marriage is repugnant to me, and that I cannot -understand how her ladyship can take Mr. Craven Black -into papa’s place, but I have tried to reconcile myself to -the change. And I think,” added Neva, her tones gathering -firmness, and a brave look shining in her eyes of -red gloom, “that I have not sufficient excuse for appealing -to the law to give me a change of guardians. I shall -have little to do or say to Mr. Craven Black, and Hawkhurst -is large enough for us both. It was papa’s wish -that I should remain for a certain period under the care -of Lady Wynde, and I cannot forget that she was papa’s<span class="pagenum">[197]</span> -wife, and that he loved her. And more,” concluded -Neva very gently, “if Lady Wynde is about to contract -an imprudent marriage, and if she is likely to know sorrow -because of her false step, she will need my friendship -when the truth comes home to her. I thank you -again, Sir John, Lord Towyn, Mr. Atkins, but I do not -think I should be justified in taking the decided step -you advise.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know but you are right, Neva,” said Sir John. -“At any rate, give your ideas of duty a fair trial, and if -you change your mind let us know. It is not as if you -were going away from us. Mr. Black, finding himself in -a quiet, decorous neighborhood, may choose to settle -down, and become a better man. We shall see you frequently, -and my house will always be open to you, my -dear, and my wife and girls will always be glad to receive -you as an inmate of our family.”</p> - -<p>“I shall not forget your kindness, Sir John,” said Neva -gratefully.</p> - -<p>“Miss Neva has always a way of escape from an unpleasant -situation,” said the practical Mr. Atkins. “Her -marriage will free her from Lady Wynde’s guardianship -without publicity of an unpleasant description.”</p> - -<p>Neva reddened vividly.</p> - -<p>The frankness with which the conversation had been -distinguished had considerably surprised the young earl. -No one seemed to require the use of diplomacy in making -plain an unpleasant meaning, and even Lady Wynde did -not seem offended at the utterance of home truths from -the lips of Mr. Atkins. It was an hour for plain-dealing, -which was freely indulged in.</p> - -<p>The visitors, finding their errand fruitless, offered -Lady Wynde their best wishes for her future, and bade -her good-morning. At the door, Sir John Freise looked -back with a smile and said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[198]</span></p> - -<p>“You look pale, Neva. Come down the avenue for a -walk. I have a message for you from the girls which I -forgot to deliver.”</p> - -<p>Neva procured her hat, and followed Sir John out of -the house. The horses were in waiting, and Mr. Atkins -mounted. Sir John and Lord Towyn took their bridles -on their arms, and walked slowly down the long arched -avenue with the young heiress.</p> - -<p>Lady Wynde watched them jealously from the window.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid, my dear,” said the kindly baronet, “that -you have made a romantic decision to-day, but you must -decide in this matter for yourself. If you remain unmarried, -these Blacks will fairly riot at Hawkhurst for the -next three years. Craven Black will fill your father’s -house with dissolute company, and you will be brought -in contact with men whom your father would never have -allowed to cross his threshold.”</p> - -<p>“Should such an event arise,” said Neva, her lovely -face growing resolute and stern, “I will then consider -your proposition, Sir John, to seek a change of guardians. -But I dread the publicity such a proceeding -would cause.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you take into consideration Atkins’ idea -then?” demanded Sir John, smiling, yet earnest. “You -must marry some day, Neva; why not marry soon? -You have plenty of suitors. Only choose some one -worthy to stand in your father’s place, and you will be -happy. Your marriage will be the best way out of the -difficulty—the best and the easiest. It would be a great -load off my mind to see you happily married, my dear -child. Wait a moment, Atkins?” added the baronet, -raising his voice. “Why go so fast? I have a word to -say to you.”</p> - -<p>The kindly old man hurried on to speak to his coadjutor,<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> -leading his horse as he went, and Neva and Lord -Towyn were left to themselves—an opportunity specially -planned by Sir John, who regarded his manœuvres -as decidedly Machiavellian, and who consequently -plumed himself upon their success.</p> - -<p>The young earl’s visit at Freise Hall had long since -terminated, and he was now stopping at his marine villa -on the coast, a dozen miles or more away. The distance -was not so great that he could not ride over to Hawkhurst -every pleasant day, and he did so with an utter -disregard of distance or exertion. His suit with Neva, -however, had never progressed beyond his early declaration -of love, Neva’s reserve having chilled him whenever -he had attempted to renew the subject.</p> - -<p>He recognized his present favorable opportunity, and -hastened to improve it.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid we took you by storm to-day, Neva,” -said the young earl, as they slowly walked down the -avenue, considerably behind Mr. Atkins and Sir John, -who had now mounted. “But Sir John Freise was determined -to make an effort to save Lady Wynde from a -union which she is likely to regret. Her ladyship is too -pure and true to comprehend the character of her suitor, -and she will cling to him all the more determinedly because -of our well-meant warning.”</p> - -<p>By this it will be seen that Lord Towyn, with his -frank nature, and honest soul, had not the slightest suspicion -of the real character of Lady Wynde. If Craven -Black was bad, she was also bad. She could never have -loved or been wholly at ease in the society of a good -man.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry for her,” said Neva, sighing.</p> - -<p>“She must ‘go her own gait,’” said Lord Towyn, “but -you must not be involved in her unhappiness. Neva, -darling Neva, I would almost die to spare you one pang<span class="pagenum">[200]</span> -of sorrow, one shadow of grief. I love you, and each -day only adds to that love,” and his voice grew unsteady -and impassioned. “You have held me off at arms’ length -ever since that evening in which I told you so prematurely -how dear you were to me. Do not repulse me -now. Tell me honestly, my darling, whether you could -be happy with me—whether I am dearer to you than -another?”</p> - -<p>His blue eyes, radiant with the warmth of his glowing -soul, flashed an electric light into hers. His passionate -face, so fair and handsome, so noble in expression -and feature, looked love upon hers. Neva’s eyelids -trembled and drooped. An answering thrill convulsed -her heart, and she knew in that moment that, come what -would, she loved Arthur Towyn with all her soul, even -as he loved her, and that she would know perfect happiness -only as his wife.</p> - -<p>Yet the conviction came upon her as a painful shock, -and in that instant the struggle between her love and -her duty of obedience to the supposed wishes of her -dead father began in her heart.</p> - -<p>“You love me?” whispered the young earl ardently, -and with a passionate tremor of his voice. “Neva, with -all my soul I love you, and I never loved before. Do I -love in vain?”</p> - -<p>The shy, red-brown eyes were upraised for a brief -glance, but in their swift flash Lord Towyn read his -answer, and knew himself beloved.</p> - -<p>There was a brief silence between them full of rapture. -They exchanged no betrothal kiss, no embrace, but Lord -Towyn held Neva’s hand in his, and in his fervent pressure -his soul spoke to hers.</p> - -<p>“I may tell Sir John and Mr. Atkins that we are betrothed, -may I not, my darling?” said the young earl -softly, as they walked on yet more slowly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[201]</span></p> - -<p>“Not yet, Arthur—not yet. I love you,” and the girl’s -voice sank to a whisper her lover’s ears could scarcely -catch, “but I want a little time to decide. Don’t look -surprised, Arthur; I do love you better than all the -world, but it is all so new and strange, and—and—”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said the earl, his face beaming. “Our -love is too sacred to be proclaimed on the instant we -acknowledge it ourselves. We will keep it secret until -after Lady Wynde’s marriage; but we are promised, -darling! Our happiness would be complete if we could -know beyond all doubt that Sir Harold smiles upon our -union. And why should he not smile upon our marriage -from his home in Heaven? He loved me, Neva, and he -desired our marriage. My father told me this on his -death-bed.”</p> - -<p>“If I could think so!” breathed Neva. “I know papa -loved you, Arthur. Do you think he would really -approve our marriage?”</p> - -<p>“What an anxious little face! I know he would approve -it, Neva. My blessed little darling, mine own, -whom no one can take from me!” cried Lord Towyn -passionately. “I am going home to dine with Sir John, -and I will call upon you this evening. I am going to -exact a lover’s privilege of seeing you when I please, -without the cold, prying eyes of Mrs. Artress devouring -me. I will be prudent and secret, Neva, since you insist -upon it, but oh, if my month of probation were over -and I might proclaim my happiness to the world!”</p> - -<p>They parted near the lodge gates, and Neva returned -slowly toward the house, while her young lover vaulted -into his saddle and rejoined his friends with a countenance -so rapturous that they could not avoid knowing -that he had confessed his love to Neva and had not been -rejected.</p> - -<p>While they overwhelmed him with congratulations,<span class="pagenum">[202]</span> -which he tried to disclaim as altogether premature, -Neva’s mind was divided between joy and grief, and she -murmured:</p> - -<p>“What shall I do? What is right for me to do? I love -Arthur, and life will not be complete without him. Shall -I, for the sake of that love, disregard papa’s last wishes -which I vowed to accept as sacred commands? Oh, if I -only knew what to do!”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">WAS IT A DREAM?</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>As the time appointed for the marriage of Lady -Wynde and Craven Black drew near, great preparations -were entered upon for its celebration. One would have -thought, from the scale of the arrangements on foot, -that the heiress of Hawkhurst was to be the bride, -rather than the baronet’s widow. Dress-makers came -down from London, boxes were sent to and fro, new -jewels from Emanuel’s or Ryder’s, were selected to replace -the Wynde family jewels, which Mr. Atkins had -compelled the handsome widow to yield up to her step-daughter, -and Artress made a special trip to Brussels -for laces, and to Paris for delicate and sumptuous novelties -in attire. One or two of Madame Elise’s best -work women spent several days at Hawkhurst in fitting -robes, and Lady Wynde, with Neva, Artress and two -maids, spent a week in London at the long-closed town -house of Sir Harold.</p> - -<p>The eventful day came at last, and was one of the -mellowest of all that mellow October. The sun flooded<span class="pagenum">[203]</span> -the little village of Wyndham in waves of golden light. -The pretty little stone church in which the marriage -ceremony was to be performed was beautifully decorated -with flowers. A floral arch vailed the door-way. -A carpet of red roses, from the glass-houses at Hawkhurst, -strewed the path the bride must traverse in going -from her carriage to the church door.</p> - -<p>Inside the church, myrtles and red roses festooned the -walls, and were suspended above the spot where the -bride and groom would stand, in the form of a marriage -bell. The breath of roses filled the air with perfume -sweeter than “gales from Araby.”</p> - -<p>Long before eleven o’clock, the villagers and the tenants -of Hawkhurst began to assemble at the church. -They were all in gala attire, for Lady Wynde, with an -insatiable vanity, had decreed that her third marriage-day -was to be a gala-day for the retainers of the Wynde -family. The villagers and tenants were all invited to a -grand out-door feast at Hawkhurst, where a hogshead -of ale, it was said, was to be broached, and deers and -pigs roasted whole. A brass band from Canterbury had -been engaged for the evening, and there would be colored -lanterns suspended from the trees, and dancing on -the terrace and on the lawn.</p> - -<p>Soon after eleven, the carriages of various county -families began to arrive at the church. Sir John and -Lady Freise, with their seven blooming daughters whose -ages ranged from eighteen to thirty-five, were among -the first comers. One of the white-gloved ushers, with -a bridal favor pinned to his coat, showed them into -a reserved seat. Other acquaintances and friends, some -curious, some full of condemnation, made their appearance, -and were similarly accommodated. Lord Towyn -and Mr. Atkins came in together.</p> - -<p>It was nearly twelve o’clock when two carriages rolled<span class="pagenum">[204]</span> -up to the church door, bringing the bridal party from -Hawkhurst. From the first of these alighted Neva and -Rufus Black. The heiress was attired in white, with -pink ribbon at her waist and pink roses securing the -frill of lace at her throat, and Rufus wore the prescribed -dress suit of black. They walked up the aisle side by -side, and more than one noticed how pale the young -girl was. They took their places in the Wynde family -pew, for Neva had resolutely declined to enact the part -of bride’s-maid to her father’s widow, and would have -declined to appear at the wedding had not she realized -that her absence would be more marked and conspicuous -than her presence.</p> - -<p>The young heiress had scarcely sank into her seat, -when a fluttering at the door declared to the assembly -that the hero and heroine of the occasion were at hand. -In defiance of the custom of meeting at the altar, Craven -Black and Lady Wynde came in together, she leaning -upon his arm.</p> - -<p>Her ladyship was dressed in a pink moire, with sweeping -court train of pink velvet. She had worn white at -her first marriage, pearl color at her second; and for the -third, and most satisfactorily to her, had put on the -color of love. A diadem set with flashing diamonds -starred her black, fashionably dishevelled hair, above -her low forehead. Her arms and neck were bare, and -glittered with gems. Her face was flushed with -triumph; her black eyes shone with a perfect self-content.</p> - -<p>The bridal pair took their places before the altar, and -the clergyman and his assistants began their office. The -usual questions were asked and answered; the usual appeal -made to any one who knew “any just cause or impediment -why these two should not be united,” but -which, of course, received no response; and her third<span class="pagenum">[205]</span> -marriage ring was slipped upon Lady Wynde’s finger, -and for the third time she was a wife.</p> - -<p>If any regret mingled with her present happiness, it -was that by her third marriage she lost the title her -second alliance had conferred upon her. But as there -was a prospect that Craven Black would inherit a title -some day, and that she would then be a peeress, she -easily contented herself with her present untitled condition.</p> - -<p>After the ceremony, the newly married pair proceeded -to the vestry and signed the marriage register. Friends -and curious acquaintances thronged in upon them with -congratulations, and soon after, when the church bell -began peeling merrily, the bride and groom reentered -their carriage, and drove home to Hawkhurst.</p> - -<p>Neva and Rufus Black followed in the second carriage.</p> - -<p>The guests invited to the wedding breakfast entered -their carriages, and followed in the wake of the bridal -pair.</p> - -<p>The villagers and tenants, in a great, straggling -crowd, proceeded on foot along the dusty road, to take -their part in the out-door festivities.</p> - -<p>A magnificent green arch had been erected over the -great gates, with the monogram of the bride and groom -curiously intertwisted, and lettered in red roses upon the -green ground. Three similar arches intersected at regular -distances the long avenue. The marble terrace was -bordered with orange trees, oleanders, lemon-trees, and -tropical shrubs, all in wooden tubs, and the front porch -was a very bower of myrtles and red roses.</p> - -<p>“It is all in singularly bad taste,” was Sir John -Freise’s exclamation, as he surveyed the scene. “It’s -very fine, girls, and would do very well if it was all for -Neva’s marriage, but it is worse than tomfoolery to invite<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> -Sir Harold Wynde’s tenantry and friends to rejoice -at the wedding of Sir Harold’s widow to a man not -worthy to tie his shoes. I must repeat that it is in singularly -bad taste. The tenantry are not Lady Wynde’s; -the house is not Lady Wynde’s. What can be done to -give distinction to the marriage-day of the heiress, if all -this display is made for Lady Wynde?”</p> - -<p>Sir John’s sentiment was the general one among the -house guests. Some were disgusted, and others privately -sneered, but there were some to whom the proceedings -of the baronet’s widow seemed eminently -proper, and these fawned upon her now.</p> - -<p>The wedding breakfast was eaten in the grand old -dining-hall, among flowers which, by a rare refinement -of taste, had been chosen for this room without perfume. -The tables were resplendent with gold and silver plate. -Fruits of rare species and delicious flavor, fresh from -the hot-houses of Hawkhurst, were nestled among blossoms -or green leaves. A noted French cook from London -had charge of the commissary department, and -the rare old wines from Sir Harold’s cellar were unequalled.</p> - -<p>While toasts were offered and drank to the newly -married pair in the banquet hall, the tenantry were -amusing themselves with their barbecue and ale out of -doors, and their hilarity corresponded to the lower-toned -merriment within the house.</p> - -<p>After the breakfast, Sir John Freise and his family, -and several others, all of whom had come out of respect -to Neva rather than to compliment Lady Wynde, took -their departure. Many guests remained for the ball. -Lord Towyn took his leave toward evening, and Neva -retired to her own room, whence she did not emerge -again that night.</p> - -<p>She had tried hard to dissuade Lady Wynde from<span class="pagenum">[207]</span> -giving the ball, but her persuasions had not availed. -Neva had declined to attend the ball, and Lady Freise -had supported her in her refusal. How could she dance -in honor of the third marriage of her father’s widow? -All day her thoughts had been of India and of her father, -and remembering his tragical fate, how could she rejoice -at a union which could never have taken place but -for his death?</p> - -<p>Her step-mother was angry at what she deemed -Neva’s obstinacy, and came to her and commanded her -to descend to the ball-room. The young girl was -sternly resolute in her refusal, and the bride went away -muttering her anger and annoyance, but powerless to -compel obedience.</p> - -<p>There was dancing until a late hour that night in the -old baronial hall that traversed the centre of the great -mansion, and there was dancing outside upon the terrace -and lawn to the music of a brass band. Mrs. Craven -Black—Lady Wynde no longer—was the belle of the -occasion, full of gayety and brightness. Mrs. Artress, -to the amazement of everybody who had known her as -the gray companion of Lady Wynde, flashed forth in the -sudden splendor of jewels and a trained dress of crimson -silk, and Craven Black danced one set with her, and -saw her supplied with numerous partners. Mrs. Artress -considered that her day of servitude was over, and that -it was quite possible that she might make a “good -match” with some wealthy country gentleman, for -whom, during all the evening, she kept a diligent look-out.</p> - -<p>Among the guests were two or three reporters of -society papers from London, whom Craven Black, with -an eye to the publicity of his glory, had invited down to -Hawkhurst. These gentlemen danced and supped and -wined, and in the pauses of these exercises wrote down<span class="pagenum">[208]</span> -glowing descriptions of the festivities, elaborate details -of the ladies’ dresses, and ecstatic little eulogies of the -bride’s beauty and connection with the Wynde family, -and of the groom’s pedigree, stating the precise value of -Craven Black’s prospects of a succession to his cousin, -Viscount Torrimore.</p> - -<p>The aunt of the bride, Mrs. Hyde of Bloomsbury -Square, was not present. She lay indeed at the point -of death, a fact which Mrs. Craven Black judiciously -confined to her own breast, the news having reached her -that morning as she was dressing for her bridal.</p> - -<p>At twelve o’clock, midnight, fire-works were displayed -on the lawn. They lasted over half an hour, and were -very creditable. After they had finished, carriages were -ordered, and the house guests departed in a steady -stream until all were gone. The tenantry and villagers -departed to their homes on foot or in wagons, as they -had come. The colored lanterns were taken down from -the trees; the musicians went away, and the lights one -by one died out of the great mansion.</p> - -<p>The bridal pair were to remain a week at Hawkhurst, -and were then to go to Wynde Heights, the dower -house of the baronet’s widow, and it had been arranged -that Neva should accompany her step-mother. Rufus -Black was to be a member of the party also, and much -was hoped by Mr. and Mrs. Craven Black from the -enforced propinquity of the young couple.</p> - -<p>Silence succeeded to the late noise, confusion and -merriment—a silence the more profound by contrast -with what had preceded. The household had retired. -Neva had long since dismissed her maid and gone to -bed, thinking sadly of her father. Even before the last -carriage had rolled away, Neva had fallen asleep, not-withstanding -her wrapt musings concerning her father, -and as the hours went on, and darkness and silence fell,<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> -that sleep had deepened into a strange and almost -breathless slumber.</p> - -<p>But suddenly she sprang up, broad awake, her eyes -starting, a cold dew on her forehead, a wild cry upon -her lips.</p> - -<p>She stared around her with a look of terror. The -white curtains of her bed were fluttering in the breeze -from her open window, and around her lay the thick -gloom of her chamber.</p> - -<p>Her voice called through the darkness in a wild, piercing -wail:</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa, papa! I dreamed—ah, was it a dream?—that -he still lives! I saw him, pale and ghastly, at the -door of a hut among the Indian hills, and I heard his -voice calling the names: ‘Octavia! Neva!’ He is not -dead—he is not dead! So surely as I live, I believe that -papa too is alive! Oh, my father, my father!”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">A SCENE IN INDIA.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Neva Wynde had retired to her bed, as will be remembered, -upon the marriage night of Lady Wynde and -Craven Black, her thoughts all of her father and of his -tragic fate in India. All day long she had thought of him -with tender yearning, pity and regret, recalling to mind -his goodness, nobleness, and grandeur of soul; and when -night came, and she lay in her bed with the noise of -revellers in the drawing-rooms and on the lawn coming -faintly to her ears, she had sobbed aloud at the thought -that her father had been so soon forgotten, and that his<span class="pagenum">[210]</span> -friends and tenantry were now making merry over the -marriage of his widow to a man unworthy to cross the -threshold of Hawkhurst.</p> - -<p>And thus sobbing and thinking, she had slept, and in -her sleep had dreamed that her father still lived, and -that she saw him standing at the door of a hut among -the far-off Indian hills, and that she heard his voice calling -“Octavia! Neva!” And thus dreaming, she had -awakened with a cry of terror, to ask of herself if it was -only a dream.</p> - -<p>It was not strange that she had thus dreamed, since -all the day and all the evening her mind had been fixed -upon her father. It would have been strange if she had -not dreamed of him. Her dream had had the clearness -of a vision, but Neva was not romantic, and although -she slept no more that night, but walked her floor with -noiseless steps and wildly questioning eyes, yet she convinced -herself long before the morning that she had been -the victim of her excited imagination, and that her -dream was “only a dream.”</p> - -<p>But was it so? There is a philosophy in dreams -which not the wisest of us can fathom. And although -the cause of Neva’s dream can be simply and naturally -explained as the result of her agitated thoughts of her -father, yet might one not also think, with less of this -world’s wisdom, perhaps, and more of tenderness, that -the girl’s guardian angel had placed that picture before -her in her sleep, and so made recompense, in the joy of -her dream, for her day of anguish and unrest?</p> - -<p>Be this as it may, our story has to deal with actual -facts, and has now to take a startling turn, perhaps not -anticipated by the reader.</p> - -<p>It was about one o’clock of the morning when Neva -awakened from her dream.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[211]</span></p> - -<p>It was then about seven o’clock—there being six hours -difference in time—in India.</p> - -<p>Among the cool shadows of the glorious Himalayas -are many country seats, or “bungalows,” occupied at -certain seasons by exhausted English merchants from -Calcutta, with their families, by army officers, and by -others of foreign birth, enervated or rendered sickly -by the scorching heats of the sea-coast or more level -regions. They find “among the hills” the fresh air, -and consequent health, for which otherwise they would -have to undertake, at all inconvenience and expense, a -voyage home to England or Holland.</p> - -<p>These bungalows, for the most part, are cheaply built -of bamboo, with thatched roofs, and are encircled with -broad and shaded verandas, always roofed, and sometimes -latticed at the sides and grown with vines, to form -a cool and leafy arcade, which serves all the purposes of -promenade, sitting-room, music-room, dining-room, and -even sleeping room, for there are usually bamboo -couches scattered about, upon which the indolent resident -takes his siesta at midday.</p> - -<p>To one of these bungalows, a fair type of the rest, we -will now direct the attention of the reader.</p> - -<p>It stood upon an elevated plateau, with the tall mountains -crested with snow in the distance. It was surrounded -at the distance of a few miles by a range of -hills, and between it and them lay miles of forest, which -was an impenetrable jungle. Around the bungalow was -a clearing of limited extent, and which was dotted with -plumed palms, bamboo, and banyan trees.</p> - -<p>The dwelling, frail like all of its class, was sufficiently -well built for the climate. It was constructed of bamboo, -was a single story in height, and was thatched with -the broad leaves of the palm. A veranda, twelve feet -wide, surrounded it. Its interior consisted of a broad<span class="pagenum">[212]</span> -hall, extending from front to rear, with two rooms opening -from each side of it. The central hall, containing no -staircase, was a long and wide apartment, which served -as dining-room, sitting-room, and parlor, when required.</p> - -<p>A little in the rear of this dwelling were two others, -one of which served as the kitchen of the establishment, -and the other as the quarters of the half-dozen native -servants belonging to the place.</p> - -<p>The bungalow which we have thus briefly described -belonged to a Major Archer, H. M. A., and it was under -its roof that George Wynde had breathed his last. -It was from its broad veranda that Sir Harold Wynde -had rode away for a last morning ride in India, upon -that fatal day on which he had encountered the tiger -of the jungle, in which encounter he was said to have -perished.</p> - -<p>At about seven o’clock of the morning then, as we -have said, and about the moment when Neva awakened -from her dream, Major Archer reclined lazily upon a -bamboo couch in the shadow of his veranda. He was -dressed in a suit of white linen, and wore a broad-brimmed -straw-hat, which was tipped carelessly upon -the back part of his head. He was reading an English -paper, received that morning at the hands of his messenger, -and indolently smoking a cigar as he read.</p> - -<p>The major was a short, stout, choleric man, with a -warm heart and a ready tongue. He had greatly loved -young Captain Wynde, and still mourned his death, and -he mourned also the tragic fate of Sir Harold.</p> - -<p>“Not much news by this mail,” the major muttered, -as he withdrew his cigar and emitted a cloud of smoke -from his pursed lips.</p> - -<p>“And no hope whatever of our regiment being ordered -back to England! We shall get gray out here in this -heathenish climate, while the fancy regiments play the<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> -heroes at balls in country towns at home. The good -things of life are pretty unevenly distributed any how.”</p> - -<p>He replaced his cigar and clapped his hands sonorously. -A light-footed native, clad in loose white trousers and -white turban, and having his copper-colored waist naked, -glided around an angle of the veranda and approached -him with a salaam.</p> - -<p>“Sherbet,” said the major sententiously.</p> - -<p>The servant muttering, “Yes, Sahib,” glided away as -he had come.</p> - -<p>The major let fall his paper and reclined his head -upon a bamboo rest, continuing to smoke. He had -arisen hours before, had taken his usual morning ride to -the house of a friend, his nearest neighbor, three miles -distant, and had returned to breakfast with his wife and -family, who were now occupied in one of the four rooms -of the dwelling. The major’s duties for the day were -now to be suspended until sunset, the intervening hours -being spent in smoking, reading, sleeping and partaking -frequently of light and cooling refreshments.</p> - -<p>The sherbet was presently brought to the major in a -crystal jug upon a salver. He laid down his cigar and -sipped the beverage with an air of enjoyment, yet lazily, -as he did everything.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see how I should get along without you, -Karrah,” said the major. “And you know it too, you -dog. I pay you big wages as it is, and now I want to -know how much extra you will take, and forego your -present practice of stealing. I think I’d better commute. -Mrs. Archer says you are robbing us right and left. -What do you say?”</p> - -<p>The native, a slim, lithe, sinewy fellow with oblong -black eyes, full of slyness and wickedness, a mouth indicative -of a cruel disposition, and with movements like a -cat, grinned at the major’s speech, but did not deny the<span class="pagenum">[214]</span> -charge. He had formerly been George Wynde’s servant -and nurse, then Sir Harold’s attendant, and was now -Major Archer’s most valued servant. He had made himself -necessary to the officer by his knowledge of all his -master’s requirements, and his exact fulfillment of them; -by his skill in concocting sherbets and other cooling -drinks; by his apparent devotion, and in other ways. -Being so highly valued, he had every opportunity, in -that loosely ordered household, of robbing his employer, -and he was maintaining a steady drain upon the major’s -purse which that officer now purposed to abolish.</p> - -<p>“Come, you coppery rascal,” said the major good-humoredly, -“what will you take to let the sugar and -tea and coffee and the rest of the things alone, except -when you find them on the table?”</p> - -<p>“Karrah no make bargain, Sahib,” said the native, -rolling up his eyes. “Karrah do better as it is.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt; but I’m afraid, my worthy copper, that -we shall have to part unless you and I can commute -your stealings. Yesterday, for instance, I left five gold -sovereigns in my other coat pocket, and last night when -I happened to think of them and look for them they -were gone. You took them—”</p> - -<p>“No prove, Sahib—no prove!” said the native stolidly.</p> - -<p>“I can prove that no one but you went into that room -yesterday except me,” declared the major coolly. “You -needn’t deny the theft, even if you purpose taking that -trouble. I know you took the money. You are a thief, -Karrah,” continued his master placidly and indolently, -“and a liar, Karrah, and a scoundrel, Karrah; but your -race is all tarred with the same stick, and I might as -well have you as another. By the way my fine Buddhist, -if that is what you are, did you use to steal right -and left from Captain Wynde?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[215]</span></p> - -<p>“Karrah honest man; Karrah no steal, but Karrah -always same.”</p> - -<p>“Always the same! Poor George! Poor fellow! -No wonder he died!” muttered the major compassionately. -“It was a consumption of the lungs by disease, -and a consumption of means by a scoundrel. And did you -take in Sir Harold in the same way?”</p> - -<p>The Hindoo’s face darkened, and an odd gleam shone -in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold no ’count gen’leman,” he said briefly. -“Karrah no like him. Three days ’fore tiger eat him, -Karrah look into Sir Harold’s purse and take out gold, -only few miserable pieces, and Karrah look into Captain -Wynde’s trunk and take a few letters and diamond pin. -Sir Harold come in sudden, see it all; he eyes fire up; -he seize Karrah by waistband and kick he out doors. -Karrah hate Sir Harold—<em>hate—hate</em>!”</p> - -<p>The indolent officer shrank before the sudden blaze of -his servant’s eyes, with a sudden realization of the possibilities -of that ignorant, untaught and vicious nature.</p> - -<p>“Why, you’re a perfect demon, Karrah,” exclaimed -the major. “You’re a firebrand—a—a devil! If you -hated Sir Harold to such an extent, how did it happen -that you continued in his service, and were even his attendant -upon that last ride?”</p> - -<p>The Hindoo smiled slowly, a strange, cruel smile.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” he said softly, “Karrah go back; Karrah say -sorry; know no better. Sir Harold smile sad, say been -hasty, and forgive. Karrah say he love Sir Harold. -That night Karrah send messenger up country—”</p> - -<p>He paused abruptly, as if he had said more than he -intended.</p> - -<p>“Well, what did you send a messenger up country for, -you rascal?”</p> - -<p>“To Karrah’s people, many miles away, to say that<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> -Karrah not come home,” declared the Hindoo more -guardedly. “Makes no difference why Karrah sent. -Karrah stay with Sahib Sir Harold three days, and see -him die. Then Karrah live with Sahib Major.”</p> - -<p>“I hope you don’t hate me,” said the major, with a -shudder. “I have a fancy that your hatred would be as -deadly as a cobra’s. If it were not for the tiger, I might -think—But, pshaw! And yet—I say, Karrah, did you -know that there was a tiger in that part of the jungle -that morning?”</p> - -<p>“Karrah know nothing,” returned the Hindoo. “Karrah -good fellow. He has enemies—they happen die, -that’s all. Karrah no set a tiger on Sahib. Karrah no -friend tigers. Sahib have more sherbet?”</p> - -<p>“No, nothing more. You may go, Karrah.”</p> - -<p>The Hindoo glided away around the angle of the veranda.</p> - -<p>“I believe I’ll have to let the fellow go,” muttered the -major, uneasily. “His looks and words give me a -strangely unpleasant sensation. I shall take care not to -offend him, or he may season my sherbet with a snake’s -venom. How he glared in that one unguarded moment -when he said he hated Sir Harold! There was murder -in his look. I declare I had a hundred little shivers -down my spine. If Sir Harold had not been killed so -unmistakably by a tiger, and if Doctor Graham and I -had not seen the fresh tracks and the marks of the -struggle, and if the tiger had not been afterward killed, I -should think—I should be sure—”</p> - -<p>An anxious look gathered on his face, and he ended -his sentence by a heavy sigh.</p> - -<p>“Strange!” he said presently, giving utterance to his -secret thoughts; “my wife never liked this fellow, although -I could see no difference between him and the -rest. She insists that he is treacherous and cruel. <a id="Ref_216" href="#BRef_216">I’ll</a><span class="pagenum">[217]</span> -dismiss him, and tell her that I do so out of deference -to her judgment. But the truth is, since I’ve seen the -fellow’s soul glaring out of his eyes, I sha’n’t dare to -sleep nights for fear I may have offended his High Mightiness. -I think it better for me that he should travel out -of this.”</p> - -<p>He had just announced to himself this decision, when -raising his eyes carelessly and looking out from the cool -shadows of the pleasant veranda, he beheld a horseman -approaching his bungalow, riding at great speed.</p> - -<p>“It may be Doctor Graham coming up for a month, -as I invited him,” thought the major, too indolent to feel -more than a trivial curiosity at the sight of a coming -stranger. “But the doctor’s too sensible to ride like -that. It is either a green Englishman, with orders from -headquarters for me, or it’s some reckless native. In -either case the fellow’s preparing for a first-class sunstroke -or fever, or something of that nature. But that’s -his look-out. I’ve troubles enough of my own without -worrying about him. It might be as well to finish my -sherbet before losing my appetite under an order to return -to my post. Oh, bother the army!”</p> - -<p>He sipped his sherbet leisurely, not even looking again -at the horseman, who came on swiftly, urging his horse -to a last burst of speed. That the horse was jaded, his -jerking, convulsive mode of going plainly showed. He -was wet with sweat, and his head hung low, and he frequently -stumbled. The horseman urged him on with -spur and whip, now and then looking behind him as if -he feared pursuit.</p> - -<p>The major did not look up until the horseman drew -rein before the bungalow, and alighted at a huge stone -which served as a horse-block. The stranger came slowly -and falteringly toward the veranda, and then the Sybaritic -major set down his empty cup and glanced at him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p> - -<p>The glance became a fixed gaze, full of wildness and -affright.</p> - -<p>The stranger slowly entered the shade of the veranda -and there halted, his features working, his form trembling. -He looked weary and travel-stained. His haggard eyes -spoke to the owner of the bungalow in a wild appeal.</p> - -<p>With the peculiar movement of an automaton, the -major slowly arose to his feet and came forward, his face -white, his eyes dilating, a tremulous quiver on his lips.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know me, major?” asked the stranger -wearily.</p> - -<p>“Great heaven!” cried the major, even his lips growing -white. “It is not a ghost! I am not dreaming! -Have the dead come to life? It is—<em>it is—Sir Harold -Wynde</em>!”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">BACK AS FROM THE DEAD.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The stranger who stood upon the veranda of Major -Archer’s bungalow was tall and thin, with a haggard face, -worn and sharp of feature, and full of deeply cut lines, -such as a long-continued anguish never fails to graven -on the features. His weary eyes were deeply sunken -under his brows, and were outlined with dark circles. -His hair was streaked with gray, and his long ragged -beard was half gray also. His face was white like death, -and unutterably wan. His garments were torn, and hung -about his lank body in rags, save where they were ill-patched -with bits of rags and vegetable fibres.</p> - -<p>Was Major Archer right? Could this haggard and -pitiable being be Sir Harold Wynde of Hawkhurst, one<span class="pagenum">[219]</span> -of the richest baronets in England, who was supposed to -have perished in the clutches of a tiger?</p> - -<p>It seemed incredible—impossible.</p> - -<p>And yet when the heavy eyelids lifted from the thin -white cheeks, and looked upon the major, it was Sir -Harold’s soul that looked through them. They were the -keen blue eyes the major remembered so well, so capable -of sternness or of tenderness, so expressive of the grand -and noble soul, the pure and lofty character, which had -distinguished the baronet.</p> - -<p>Yes, the stranger was Sir Harold Wynde—alive and -well!</p> - -<p>“You know me then, Major?” he said. “I am not -changed, as I thought, beyond all recognition!”</p> - -<p>He held out his hand. The major grasped it in a mixture -of bewilderment and amazement, and not without -a thrill of superstitious terror.</p> - -<p>“I—I thought you were dead, Sir Harold,” he stammered. -“We all thought so, Graham and all. We -thought you were killed by a tiger. I—I don’t know -what to make of this!”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold let go the major’s hand and staggered to -the bamboo couch upon which he sank wearily.</p> - -<p>“He’s not dead—but dying,” muttered the major. -“Lord bless my soul! What am I to do?”</p> - -<p>He clapped his hands vigorously. A moment later -his Hindoo servant Karrah glided around upon the front -veranda.</p> - -<p>“Bring brandy—sherbet—anything!” gasped the -major, pointing at his guest. “He’s fainting, Karrah—”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold lifted his weary head and gazed upon the -Hindoo. The sight seemed to endue him with new life. -He leaped to his feet, and his blue eyes blazed with an -awful lightning, as he pointed one long and bony finger -at the native, and cried:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[220]</span></p> - -<p>“Traitor! Viper! Arrest him, Major. I accuse -him—”</p> - -<p>The Hindoo stood for a second appalled, but as the -last words struck his hearing he flung at the baronet a -glance of deadly hatred, and then turned in silence and -fled from the bungalow, making toward the jungle.</p> - -<p>Something of the truth flashed upon the major’s mind. -He routed up his household in a moment, and dispatched -them in pursuit of the fugitive.</p> - -<p>Aroused by the tumult, Mrs. Archer came forth from -her chamber. She was a portly woman, and was dressed -in a light print, and wore a cap. Her husband met her -in the hall and told her what had occurred. Restraining -her curiosity, she hastened to prepare food and drink -for the returned baronet.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Sir Harold had sank down again upon the -couch. The major approached him, and said:</p> - -<p>“You look worn out, Sir Harold. Let me show you -to a room, where I will attend upon you. My men will -capture that scoundrel—never fear. Come with me.”</p> - -<p>The baronet arose and took the major’s arm and was -led into the central hall of the house, and into one of -the four rooms the house contained. It was the room -in which his son had died. The windows were closely -shuttered, but admitted the air at the top. The floor -was of wood and bare. A bedstead, couch, and chairs -of bamboo comprised the furniture.</p> - -<p>At one side of the room were two spacious closets. -One of these contained a portable bath-tub, a rack of -fresh white towels, and plenty of water. The other contained -clothes depending from hooks.</p> - -<p>“You’ll find your own suit of clothes there, Sir Harold,” -said the major. “I intended to send them to -England, but I am as fond of procrastination as ever.<span class="pagenum">[221]</span> -It’s just as well though, now. You can take them home -yourself.”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold sat down in the nearest chair.</p> - -<p>“Home!” he whispered. “How are they—Octavia? -Neva?”</p> - -<p>“All well—or they were when I heard last.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me what you know of them?” And Sir Harold’s -great hungry eyes searched the major’s face. “They -believe me dead?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, Sir Harold. Everybody believes you dead. -And I am dying to know how it is that you are alive. -Where have you been these fifteen months? How did -you escape the tiger?”</p> - -<p>The desired explanation was delayed by the appearance -at the door of Mrs. Archer, who brought a jug of -warm spiced drink and a plate of food. The major -took the tray, and shut his wife out, returning to his -guest.</p> - -<p>Sir Harold was nearly famished, and ate and drank -like one starving. When his hunger was appeased, and -a faint color began to dawn in his face, he pushed the -tray from him, and spoke in a firmer voice than he had -before employed.</p> - -<p>“I have imagined terrible things about my wife and -Neva,” he said. “My poor wife! I have thought of her -a thousand times as dead of grief. Do you know, major, -how she took the report of my death?”</p> - -<p>“I have heard,” said the major, “she nearly died of -grief. For a long time she shut herself up, and was inconsolable, -and when she did venture out at last, it was -in a funereal coach, and dressed in the deepest mourning. -There are few wives who mourn as she did.”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold’s lips quivered.</p> - -<p>“My poor darling!” he muttered inaudibly. “My<span class="pagenum">[222]</span> -precious wife! I shall come back to you from the -dead.”</p> - -<p>“Lady Wynde is heart-broken, they say,” said the -major. “One of the men in our mess, a lieutenant, is -from Canterbury and hears all the Kentish gossip, and -he says people were afraid that Lady Wynde would go -into a decline.”</p> - -<p>“My poor wife!” said Sir Harold, with a sobbing -breath. “I knew how she loved me. We were all the -world to each other, Major. I must be careful how she -hears the news that I am living. The sudden shock may -kill her. Have you any news of my daughter also?”</p> - -<p>“She was still at school when I last heard of her,” -answered the major. “There is no more news of your -home, Sir Harold. Your family are mourning for you -and you will bring back their lost happiness. You ought -to have seen your obituaries in the London papers. -Some of them were a yard long, and I’d be willing to die -to-day if I could only read such notices about myself. -That sounds a little Hibernian, but it’s true. And your -tenantry put on mourning, and they had funeral sermons -and so on. By all the rules, you ought to have been dead, -and, by the Lord Harry, I can’t understand why you are -not.”</p> - -<p>Sir Harold smiled wanly.</p> - -<p>“Let me explain why I am not,” he said. “You remember -that I was taking my last ride in India, and was -about to start for Calcutta, to embark for England, when -I disappeared? Some three days before that I had a -quarrel, if I might call it so, with the Hindoo Karrah—”</p> - -<p>“I know it. He told me about it for the first time this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“You understand then that I had incurred his enmity -by kicking him out of this house? I found him stealing -the effects of my dead son. He had also stolen from me.<span class="pagenum">[223]</span> -The letters he was stealing he was acute enough to know -were precious to me, and there was George’s diary, for -which I would not have taken any amount of money. -The scoundrel meant to get away with these, and then -sell them to me at his own terms. I took back my property, -and punished him as he deserved. I have now reason -to believe he went away that night to his friends among -the hills—”</p> - -<p>“He did. He told me he did. But what did he go -for?” cried the major excitedly.</p> - -<p>“You can soon guess. The next morning Karrah came -back, professing repentance,” said Sir Harold. “I reproached -myself for having been too harsh upon the poor -untaught heathen, and took him back. He accompanied -me upon that last ride, and was so humble, so deprecating, -so gentle, that I even felt kindly toward him. We -rode out into the jungle. I was in advance, riding slowly, -and thinking of home, when suddenly a monstrous tiger -leaped out of a thicket and fastened his claws in the neck -of my horse. I fought the monster desperately, for he -had pinned my leg to the side of my horse, and I could -not escape from him. We had a frightful struggle, and -I must have succumbed but for Karrah, who shot at the -tiger, wounding him, I think, in the shoulder, and frightening -him into retreat.”</p> - -<p>“And so you escaped, when we all thought you -killed?” cried the major.</p> - -<p>“My horse was dying,” said the baronet, “and I was -wounded and bleeding. I thought I was dying. I fell -from my saddle to the ground, groaning with pain. -Karrah came up, and bent over me, with a devilish smile -and moistened my lips with brandy from a flask he -carried. Then, muttering words in his own language -which I could not understand, he carried me to his own -horse, mounted, with me in his arms, and rode off in the<span class="pagenum">[224]</span> -direction in which we had been going, and away from -your bungalow.”</p> - -<p>“The scoundrel! What was that for?”</p> - -<p>“After a half-hour’s ride, we came to a hollow, where -three natives were camped. Karrah halted, and addressed -them. They gathered around us, and then Karrah -said to me, in English, that he hated me, that he -would not kill me, but meant me to suffer, and that -these men were his brothers, who lived a score of miles -away up among the mountains. I was to be their slave. -He transferred me to their care, disregarding my pleas -and offered bribes, and rode away on his return to you. -I was carried on horseback, securely bound, a score of -miles to the north and westward. How I suffered on -that horrible journey, wounded as I was, I can never tell -you. A dozen times I thought myself dying.”</p> - -<p>“It is a wonder you did not die!”</p> - -<p>“It is,” said Sir Harold. “We went through savage -jungles, and forded mountain torrents. We went up -hill and down, and more than once leaped precipices. I -was in a dead faint when we reached the home of the -three Hindoos, but afterward I found how wild and secluded -the spot was, and that there were no neighbors -for miles around. Their cabin was niched in a cleft in -a mountain, and hidden from the eye of any but the -closest searcher. Had you searched for me, you would -never have found me. It was in a rear hut, small and -dark, with a mud floor, and windowless walls, that I have -been a prisoner for fifteen months, major. My enemies, -for the most part, left me to myself, and I have dragged -out my weary captivity with futile plans of escape. Ah, -I have known more than the bitterness of death!”</p> - -<p>“If we had only known it, we’d have scoured all -India for you, Sir Harold,” said the major hotly. “We’d -have strung up every native until we got the right ones.<span class="pagenum">[225]</span> -But that episode of the tiger—for it seems that the tiger -was only an episode, coming into the affair by accident, -but greatly assisting Karrah’s foul treachery—threw us -off the scent, and made us think you dead. Why did -we not suspect the truth?”</p> - -<p>“How could you? Don’t reproach yourself, major. -My chiefest sufferings during these horrible fifteen -months have been on account of my wife and my -daughter. To feel myself helpless, a slave to those -Hindoo pariahs, bound continually and in chains, while -Octavia and Neva were weeping for me and crying out -in their anguish, and perhaps needing me—ah, that was -almost too hard to bear! Now and then Karrah came -to taunt me in my prison, and to tell me how he hated -me, and how sweet was his revenge. He told me that -you had heard through a friend that my poor wife was -dying of her grief. After that I tried, with increased -ingenuity, to find some way of escape. Last night the -three Hindoos went away—upon a marauding expedition, -I think. After they had gone, one of the women -brought me my usual evening meal of boiled rice. I -pleaded to her to release me, but she laughed at me. -She went out, leaving the door open, intending to return -soon for the dish. The sight of the sky and of the -green earth without nerved me to desperation. I was -confined by a belt around my waist, to which an iron -chain was attached, the other end of the chain being secured -to a ring in the wall. I had wrenched my belt -and the chain a thousand times, but last night when I -pulled at it with the strength of a madman, it gave way. -I fell to the floor—unfettered!”</p> - -<p>“You bounded up like an India rubber ball, I dare -swear?” cried the major, wiping his eyes sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“I leaped up, and darted out of the door. There was<span class="pagenum">[226]</span> -a horse tethered near the hut. I bounded on his back -and sped away, as the woman came hurrying out in -wild pursuit. I knew the general direction in which -your bungalow lay. I rode all night, going out of my -road, but being set straight again by some kindly Hindoos; -and here I am, weary, worn, but Oh, how thankful -and blest!”</p> - -<p>The baronet bowed his head on his hands, and his -tears of joy fell thickly.</p> - -<p>“You’re safe now, Sir Harold,” cried the major. “I -hear a hubbub outside. My fellows have got back, with -Karrah, no doubt. I want to superintend the skinning -him, and while I am gone, you can refresh yourself with -a bath, and put on a suit of Christian garments. My -wife is dying to see you. I hear her pacing the hall like -a caged leopardess. Get ready, and I’ll come back to -you as soon as you have had a little sleep. You’re -among friends, my dear Sir Harold; and, by Jove, I’m -glad to see you again!”</p> - -<p>He pressed Sir Harold’s hand, catching his breath -with a peculiar sobbing, and hurried out.</p> - -<p>His servants had returned, but Karrah had escaped. -The major indulged in some peculiar profanity, as he -listened to this report, and then withdrew to his wife’s -cool room, and told her Sir Harold’s story.</p> - -<p>The baronet, meanwhile, took a bath and went to bed. -He slept for hours, awakening after noon. He shaved -and trimmed his beard, dressed himself in the suit of -clothes he had formerly worn, and which were now -much too large for him, and came forth into the central -hall of the dwelling. Major Archer was lounging here, -and came forward hastily, with both hands outstretched, -and with a beaming face.</p> - -<p>“You look more like yourself, Sir Harold!” he exclaimed.<span class="pagenum">[227]</span> -“Mrs. Archer is out on the veranda, and is -full of impatience to see you.”</p> - -<p>He linked his arm in the baronet’s and conducted him -out to the veranda, presenting him to Mrs. Archer, who -greeted him with a certain awe and kindliness, as one -would welcome a hero.</p> - -<p>The little Archers were playing about under the -charge of an ayah, and they also came forward timidly -to welcome their father’s guest.</p> - -<p>Tiffin—the India luncheon—was served on the veranda, -and after it was over, and the young people had -dispersed, Sir Harold said to his host:</p> - -<p>“When does the next steamer leave for England?”</p> - -<p>“Three days hence. You will have time to catch the -mail if you write to-day,” said Major Archer.</p> - -<p>“Write! Why, I shall go in her, Major!”</p> - -<p>“Impossible, Sir Harold. You are not fit for the voyage,” -said Mrs. Archer.</p> - -<p>“I must go,” persisted the baronet, in a tone no one -could dispute. “Think of my wife—of my daughter. -Every day that keeps me from them seems an eternity. -Major, I was robbed by Karrah of every penny I possessed. -Plunder was a part of his motive, as well as desire -for revenge. I shall have to draw upon you for a -sufficient sum for my expenses.”</p> - -<p>“It’s fortunate, and quite an unprecedented thing -with me, that I have a couple of hundred pounds in bank -in Calcutta,” said the major. “I wish it were a thousand, -but you’re quite welcome to it, Sir Harold—a -thousand times welcome. I appreciate your impatience -to be on your way home. If it were I, and your wife -was my Molly, I’d travel day and night—but there, I’ve -said enough. I’ll go to Calcutta with you, and see you -off on the <em>Mongolian</em>. I wish I could do more for you.”</p> - -<p>“You can, Major. You can keep silence concerning<span class="pagenum">[228]</span> -my reappearance,” declared Sir Harold thoughtfully. -“My wife is reported to be dying of grief. If she hears -too abruptly that I still live, the shock may destroy her. -Major, I am going home under a name not my own, that -the story of my adventures may not be bruited about -before she sees me. I will not reveal myself to any one -in Calcutta, nor to any one in England, before reaching -home. I will go quietly and unknown to Hawkhurst, -and reveal myself with all care and caution to Neva, who -will break the news to my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Harold is right,” said Mrs. Archer. “Lady -Wynde and Miss Wynde should not first hear the news -by telegraph, or letter, or through the newspapers. Their -impatience, anxiety, and suspense, after hearing that Sir -Harold still lives, and before they can see him, will be -terrible. The shock, as Sir Harold suggests, might -almost be fatal to Lady Wynde.”</p> - -<p>“My wife is always right,” said the burly major, with -a glance of admiration at his spouse. “Sir Harold, you -cannot do better than to follow your instincts and my -Molly’s counsels. It is settled then, that you return to -England under an assumed name, and see your own family -before you proclaim your adventures to the world. -What name shall you adopt as a ‘name of voyage,’ to -translate from the French?”</p> - -<p>“I will call myself Harold Hunlow,” said the baronet. -“Hunlow was my mother’s name. I am rested, Major, -and if you can give me a mount, we’ll be off at sunset -on our way to Calcutta.”</p> - -<p>It was thus agreed. That very evening Sir Harold -Wynde and Major Archer set out for Calcutta on horseback, -arriving in time to secure passage in the <em>Mongolian</em>. -And on the third day after leaving Major Archer’s bungalow, -Sir Harold Wynde was at sea, and on his way to -England. Ah, what a reception awaited him!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[229]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">NEVA’S DECISION ABOUT RUFUS.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Could her guardian angel have whispered to Neva -that her father did indeed still live, and that at the very -moment of her vivid dream he stood upon the veranda -of Major Archer’s Indian bungalow, weak, wasted and -weary, but with the principle of life strong within him, -what agony she might have been spared in the near -future! what terrors and perils she might perhaps have -escaped!</p> - -<p>But she did not know it—she could not guess that life -held for her a joy so rare, so pure, so sweet, as that of -welcoming back to his home her father so long and bitterly -mourned as dead.</p> - -<p>As we have said, she remained awake during the remainder -of the night, walking her floor in her white -gown and slippered feet, now and then wringing her -hands, or sobbing softly, or crying silently; and thus -the weary hours dragged by.</p> - -<p>Before the clear sunlight of the soft September morning, -which stole at last into her pleasant rooms, Neva’s -dream lost its vividness and semblance of reality, and -the conviction settled down upon her soul that it was -indeed “only a dream.”</p> - -<p>She dressed herself for breakfast in a morning robe of -white, with cherry-colored ribbons, but her face was very -pale, and there was a look of unrest in her red-brown -eyes when she descended slowly and wearily to the -breakfast-room at a later hour than usual.</p> - -<p>This room faced the morning sun, and was octagon -shaped, one half of the octagon projecting from the<span class="pagenum">[230]</span> -house wall, and being set with sashes of French plate-glass, -like a gigantic bay-window. One of the glazed -sections opened like a door upon the eastern marble terrace, -with its broad surface, its carved balustrade, and -its rows of rare trees and shrubs in portable tubs.</p> - -<p>There was no one in the room when Neva entered it. -The large table was laid with covers for five persons. -The glazed door was ajar, and the windows were all -open, giving ingress to the fresh morning air. The -room was all brightness and cheerfulness, the soft gray -carpet having a border of scarlet and gold, the massive -antique chairs being upholstered in scarlet leather, and -the sombreness of the dainty buffet of ebony wood being -relieved by delicate tracery of gold, drawn by a -sparing hand.</p> - -<p>Neva crossed the floor and passed out upon the terrace, -where a gaudy peacock strutted, spreading his fan -in the sunlight, and giving utterance to his harsh notes -of self-satisfaction. Neva paced slowly up and down the -terrace, shading her face with her hand. A little later -she heard some one emerge from the breakfast room -upon the terrace, and come behind her with an irregular -and unsteady tread.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Miss Neva,” said Rufus Black, as he -gained her side. “A lovely morning, is it not?”</p> - -<p>Neva returned his salutation gravely. She knew that -Rufus Black had slept under the same roof with herself -the preceding night, after the ball, and that a room at -Hawkhurst had been specially assigned him by Lady -Wynde, now Mrs. Craven Black.</p> - -<p>“You ought to have sacrificed your scruples, and come -down to the drawing-rooms last night,” said Rufus -Black. “I assure you we had a delightful time, but you -would have been the star of the ball. I watched the -door for your appearance until the people began to go<span class="pagenum">[231]</span> -home, and I never danced, although there was no end of -pretty girls, but they were not pretty for me,” added -Rufus, sighing. “There is for me <em>now</em> only one beautiful -girl in the whole world, and you are she, sweet -Neva.”</p> - -<p>“Did you ever love any one before you loved me?” -asked Neva, with a quiet frankness and straightforwardness, -looking up at him with her clear eyes full of dusky -glow.</p> - -<p>“Ye—no!” stammered Rufus, turning suddenly pale, -and his honest eyes blenching. “Almost every man has -had his boyish fancies, Miss Neva. Whatever mine may -have been, my life has been pure, and my heart is all -your own. You believe me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I believe you. Mr. and Mrs. Black have come -down to breakfast, Mr. Rufus. Let us go in.”</p> - -<p>She led the way back to the breakfast room, Rufus -following. They found the bride and bridegroom and -Mrs. Artress waiting for them. Neva greeted Lady -Wynde by her new name, and bowed quietly to Craven -Black and Mrs. Artress. The little party took seats at -the table, and the portly butler, with a mute protest in -his heart against the new master of Hawkhurst, waited -upon them, assisted by skillful subordinates.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Craven Black, dressed in white, looked the incarnation -of satisfaction. She had so far succeeded in the -daring game she had been playing, and her jet-black -eyes glittered, and her dark cheeks were flushed to -crimson, and her manner was full of feverish gayety, as -she did the honors of the Hawkhurst breakfast table to -her new husband.</p> - -<p>Three years before she had been a poor adventuress, -unable to marry the man she loved. Now, through the -success of a daring and terrible conspiracy, she was -wealthy, the real and nominal mistress of one of the<span class="pagenum">[232]</span> -grandest seats in England; the personal guardian of one -of the richest heiresses in the kingdom; and the wife of -her fellow-conspirator, to obey whose behests, and to -marry whom, she had been willing to peril her soul’s -salvation.</p> - -<p>Only one thing remained to render her triumph perfect, -her fortune magnificent, and her success assured. Only -one move remained to be played, and her game would be -fully played.</p> - -<p>That move comprehended the marriage of Neva Wynde -to Rufus Black, and Mrs. Craven Black, from the moment -of her third marriage, resolved to devote all her energies -to the task of bringing about the union upon which she -was determined.</p> - -<p>The breakfast was eaten by Neva almost in silence. -When the meal was over Mr. and Mrs. Craven Black -strolled out into the gardens, arm in arm. Mrs. Artress, -who had fully emerged from her gray chrysalis, and who -was now dressed in pale blue, hideously unbecoming to -her ashen-hued complexion, retired to her own room to -enjoy her triumph in solitude, and to count the first installment -of the yearly allowance that had been promised -her, and which had already been paid her, with remarkable -promptness, by Lady Wynde.</p> - -<p>Neva went to the music-room, and began to play a -weird, strange melody, in which her very soul seemed to -find utterance. In the midst of her abstraction, the door -opened, and Rufus Black came in softly.</p> - -<p>He was standing at her side when her wild music -ceased abruptly, and she looked up from the ivory keys.</p> - -<p>“Your music sounds like a lament, or a dirge,” said -Rufus, leaning upon the piano and regarding with admiration -the pale, rapt face and glowing eyes.</p> - -<p>“I meant it so,” said Neva. “I was thinking of my -father.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[233]</span></p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Rufus, rather vacantly.</p> - -<p>“I dreamed of papa last night,” said Neva softly, -resting her elbow on the crashing keys and laying one -rounded cheek upon her pink palm. “I dreamed he was -alive, Rufus, and that I saw him standing before the -door of an Indian hut, or bungalow, or curious dwelling; -and my dream was like a vision.”</p> - -<p>“A rather uncomfortable one,” suggested Rufus. -“You were greatly excited yesterday, Neva, I could see -that; and, as your mind was all stirred up concerning -your father, you naturally dreamed of him. It would -make a horrid row if your dream could only turn out -true, and you ought to rejoice that it cannot. You have -mourned for him, and the edge of your grief has worn -off—”</p> - -<p>“No, no, it has not,” interrupted the girl’s passionate -young voice. “If I had seen him die, I could have been reconciled -to the will of God. But to lose him in that awful -manner—never to know how much he suffered during -the moments when he was struggling in the claws of that -deadly tiger—oh, it seems at times more than I can bear. -And to think how soon he has been forgotten!” and -Neva’s voice trembled. “His wife whom he idolized -has married another, and his friends and tenantry have -danced and made merry at her wedding. Of all who -knew and loved him, only his daughter still mourns at -his awful fate!”</p> - -<p>“It is hard,” assented Rufus, “but it’s the way of the -world, you know. If it will comfort you any, Neva, I -will tell you that half the county families came to the -wedding breakfast to support and cheer you by their -presence, and the other half came out of sheer curiosity. -But few of the best families remained to the ball.”</p> - -<p>“Papa thought much of you, did he not, Rufus?” -asked Neva, thinking of that skilfully forged letter<span class="pagenum">[234]</span> -which was hidden in her bosom, and which purported to -be her father’s last letter to her from India.</p> - -<p>Rufus Black had been warned by his father that Neva -might some day thus question him, and Craven Black -had told his son that he must answer the heiress in the -affirmative. Rufus was weak of will, cowardly, and -timid, but it was not in him to be deliberately dishonest. -He could not lie to the young girl, whose truthful eyes -sought his own.</p> - -<p>“I had no personal acquaintance with Sir Harold -Wynde, Neva,” the young man said, inwardly quaking, -yet daring to tell the truth.</p> - -<p>“But—but—papa said—I don’t really comprehend, -Rufus. I thought that papa loved you.”</p> - -<p>“If Sir Harold ever saw me, I do not know it,” said -Rufus, cruelly embarrassed, and wondering if his honesty -would not prove his ruin. “I was at the University—Sir -Harold may have seen me, and taken a liking to -me—”</p> - -<p>Neva looked strangely perplexed and troubled. Certainly -the awkward statement of Rufus did not agree -with the supposed last declaration of her father.</p> - -<p>“There seems some mystery here which I cannot -fathom,” she said. “I have a letter written by papa in -India, under the terrible foreboding that he would die -there, and in this letter papa speaks of you with affection, -and says—and says—”</p> - -<p>She paused, her blushes amply completing the sentence.</p> - -<p>A cold shiver passed over the form of Rufus. He -comprehended the cause of Neva’s blushes, and a portion -of his father’s villainy. He understood that the -letter of which Neva spoke had been forged by Craven -Black, and that it commanded Neva’s marriage with -Craven Black’s son. What could he say? What should<span class="pagenum">[235]</span> -he do? His innate cowardice prevented him from confessing -the truth, and his awe of his father prevented -him from betraying him, and he could only tremble and -blush and pale alternately.</p> - -<p>“Papa might have taken an interest in you, without -making himself known to you,” suggested Neva, after a -brief pause. “Some act of yours might have made your -name known to him, and he might secretly have watched -your course without betraying to you his interest in you, -might he not?”</p> - -<p>“He might,” said Rufus huskily.</p> - -<p>“I can explain the matter in no other way. It is singular. -Perhaps poor papa might not have well known -what he was writing, but the letter is so clearly written -that that idea is not tenable. After all, so long as he -wrote the letter, what does it matter?” said Neva wearily. -“He must have known you, Rufus—or else the -letter was forged!”</p> - -<p>Rufus averted his face, upon which a cold sweat was -starting.</p> - -<p>“Who would have forged it?” he asked hoarsely.</p> - -<p>“That I do not know. I know no one base enough -for such a deed. It could not have been forged, of -course, Rufus, but the discrepancy between your statement -and that in the letter makes me naturally doubt. -Papa was the most truthful of men. He hated a lie, -and was so punctilious in regard to the truth that he -was always painfully exact in his statements. He trained -me to scorn a lie, and was even particular about the -slightest error in repeating a story. How then could he -speak of knowing you? Perhaps, though, I am mistaken. -I may find, on referring to the letter, that he -speaks of liking you and taking an interest in you, without -alluding to a personal acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“If I had known Sir Harold, I should have tried to<span class="pagenum">[236]</span> -deserve his good opinion,” said Rufus, his voice trembling. -“I have the greatest reverence for his character, -and I wish I might be like him.”</p> - -<p>“There are few like papa,” said Neva, a sudden glow -transfiguring her face.</p> - -<p>“How you loved him, Neva. If I had had such a -father!” and Rufus sighed. “I would rather have an -honorable, affectionate father whom I could revere and -trust than to have a million of money!”</p> - -<p>Neva reached out her hand in sympathy, and the -young man seized it eagerly, clinging to it.</p> - -<p>“Neva,” he exclaimed, with a sudden energy of passion, -“it is more than a month since I asked you to be -my wife, and you have not yet given me my answer. -Will you give it to me now?”</p> - -<p>The girl withdrew her hand gently, and rested her -cheek again on her hand.</p> - -<p>“I know I am not worthy of you,” said Rufus, beseechingly. -“I am poor in fortune, weak of character, a -piece of drift-wood blown hither and thither by adverse -winds, and likely to be tossed on a rocky shore at last, -if you do not have pity upon me. Neva, such as I am, -I beseech you to save me!”</p> - -<p>“I am powerless to save any one,” said Neva gently. -“Your help must come from above, Rufus.”</p> - -<p>“I want an earthly arm to cling to,” pleaded Rufus, -his tones growing shrill with the sudden fear that she -would reject him. “I have in me all noble impulses, -Neva; I have in me the ability to become such a man -as was your father. I would foster all noble enterprises; -I would become great for your sake. I would study my -art and make a name of which you should be proud. -Will you stoop from your high estate, Neva, and have -pity upon a weak, cowardly soul that longs to be strong -and brave? Will you smile upon my great love for you,<span class="pagenum">[237]</span> -and let me devote my life to your happiness and comfort?”</p> - -<p>His wild eyes looked into hers with a prayerfulness -that went to her soul. He seemed to regard her as his -earthly saviour—and such indeed, if she accepted him, -she would be, for she would bring him fortune, and, -what he valued more, her affection, her pure life, her -brave soul, on which his own weak nature might be -stayed.</p> - -<p>“Poor Rufus!” said Neva, with a tenderness that a -sister might have shown him. “My poor boy!” and her -small face beamed with sisterly kindness upon the tall, -awkward fellow, the words coming strangely from her -lips. “I am sorry for you.”</p> - -<p>“And you will marry me?” he cried eagerly.</p> - -<p>The young face became grave almost to sternness. -The lovely eyes gloomed over with a great shadow.</p> - -<p>“I want to obey papa’s wishes as if they were commands,” -she said. “I have thought and prayed, day -after day and night after night. I like you, Rufus, and -I cannot hear your appeals unmoved. I believe I am -not selfish, if I am true to my higher nature, and obey -the instincts God has implanted in my soul. I must be -untrue to God, to myself, and to my own instincts, or I -must pay no heed to that last letter and to the last -wishes of poor papa. Which shall I do? I have decided -first one way, and then the other. The possibility that -that letter was—was not written by papa—and there is -such a possibility—I cannot now help but consider. -Forgive me, Rufus, but I have decided, and I think -papa, who has looked down from heaven upon my perplexity -and my anguish, must approve my course. I -feel that I am doing right, when I say,” and here her -hand took his, “that—that I cannot marry you.”</p> - -<p>“Not marry me! Oh, Neva!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[238]</span></p> - -<p>“It costs me much to say it, Rufus, but I must be -true to myself, to my principles of honor. I do not love -you as a wife should love her husband. I could not -stand up before God’s altar and God’s minister, and perjure -myself by saying that I thus loved you. No, -Rufus, no; it may not be!”</p> - -<p>Rufus bowed his head upon the piano, and sobbed -aloud.</p> - -<p>His weakness appealed to the girl’s strength. She had -seldom seen a man in tears, and her own tears began to -flow in sympathy.</p> - -<p>“I am so sorry, Rufus!” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“But you will not save me? You will not lift a hand -to save me from perdition?”</p> - -<p>“I will be your sister, Rufus.”</p> - -<p>“Until you become some other man’s wife!” cried -Rufus, full of jealous anguish. “You will marry some -other man—Lord Towyn, perhaps?”</p> - -<p>The girl retreated a few steps, a red glory on her features. -A strange sweet shyness shone in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“I see!” exclaimed Rufus, in a passion of grief and -jealousy. “You will marry Lord Towyn? Oh, Neva! -Neva!”</p> - -<p>“Rufus, it cannot matter to you whom I marry since -I cannot marry you. Let us be friends—brother and -sister—”</p> - -<p>“I will be all to you or nothing!” ejaculated Rufus -violently. “I will marry you or die!”</p> - -<p>He broke from the grasp she laid upon him, and with -a wild cry upon his lips, dashed from the room.</p> - -<p>In the hall he encountered Craven Black and his bride, -just come in from the garden. He would have brushed -past them unseeing, unheeding, but his father, seeing his -excitement and agitation, grasped his arm forcibly, arresting -his progress.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[239]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” demanded Craven Black fiercely. -“What’s up?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to kill myself!” returned Rufus shrilly, trying -to break loose from that strong, unyielding clasp. -“It’s all over. Neva has refused me, and turned me -adrift. She is going to marry Lord Towyn!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, is she?” said Craven Black mockingly. “We’ll -see about that.”</p> - -<p>“We will see!” said Neva’s step-mother, with a cruel -and fierce compression of her lips. “I am Miss Wynde’s -guardian. We will see if she dares disobey her father’s -often repeated injunctions to obey me! If she does refuse, -she shall feel my power!”</p> - -<p>“Defer your suicide until you see how the thing turns -out, my son,” said Craven Black, with a little sneer. “Go -to your room and dry your tears, before the servants -laugh at you.”</p> - -<p>Rufus Black slunk away, miserable, yet with reviving -hope. Perhaps the matter was not ended yet? Perhaps -Neva would reconsider her decision?</p> - -<p>As he disappeared up the staircase, Mrs. Craven Black -laid her hand on her bridegroom’s arm, and whispered:</p> - -<p>“The girl will prove restive. We shall have trouble -with her. If we mean to force her into this marriage, -we must first of all get her away from her friends. Where -shall we take her? How shall we deal with her?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum">[240]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">LALLY FINDS A NEW HOME.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Nearly six weeks had intervened between Rufus -Black’s proposal of marriage to Neva Wynde on the -road-side bank and his final rejection by her in the music-room -at Hawkhurst.</p> - -<p>It will be remembered that there had been a hidden -witness to the half-despairing, half-loving, proposal of -Rufus, and that this hidden witness, seeing, but unseen, -was no other than the wronged young wife whom Rufus -Black mourned as dead, and whom in his soul he loved -a thousand-fold better than the beautiful young heiress.</p> - -<p>During the six weeks that had passed, what had become -of Lally—poor, heart-broken, despairing Lally?</p> - -<p>We have narrated how she staggered away in the -night gloom, after seeing Rufus and Neva together in -the square of light from the home windows upon the -marble terrace, not knowing whither she went, but hurrying -as swiftly as she might from her young husband, -from happiness, and from hope itself.</p> - -<p>She had no thought of suicide. She had learned many -lessons by the bedside of her old friend the seamstress, -whose dying hours she had cheered. She had learned -that life may be very bitter and hard to bear, but that it -may not be thrown aside, or flung back in anger or -despair to the Giver. Its burdens must be borne, and -he who bears them with earnest patience, and in humble -obedience to the divine will, shall some day exchange -the cross of suffering for the crown of a great -reward. No; Lally, weak and frail as she was, deserted -by humanity, would never again seriously think of -suicide.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[241]</span></p> - -<p>She wandered on in the soft starlight and moonlight, -a helpless, homeless, hopeless creature, with nowhere to -go, as we have said. She had no money in her pocket, -no food, and her shoes were worn out, and her clothes -were patched and darned and pitiably frayed and worn. -The very angels must have pitied her in her utter forlornness.</p> - -<p>For an hour or two she tottered on, but at last wearied -to exhaustion, she sank down in the shelter of a way-side -hedge, and sobbed and moaned herself to sleep.</p> - -<p>She was awake again at daybreak, and hurried up and -on, as if flying from pursuit. About eleven o’clock she -came to a hop-garden, divided from the road by wooden -palings. There were men and women, of the tramp -species, busy at work here under the supervision of the -hop farmer. Lally halted and clung to the palings with -both hands, and looked through the interstices upon the -busy groups with dilating eyes.</p> - -<p>She was worn with anguish, but even her mental sufferings -could not still the demands of nature. She was -so hungry that it seemed as if a vulture were gnawing -at her vitals. She felt that she was starving.</p> - -<p>The hop-pickers, many of them tramps who lived in -unions and alms-houses in the winter, and who stray -down into Kent during the hop season, presently discovered -the white and hungry face pressed against the palings, -and jeered at the girl, and called her names she -could not understand, making merry at her forlornness.</p> - -<p>The hop raiser heard them, and discovering the object -of their rude merriment, came forward, opened a gate in -the palings, and hailed the girl. He was short of hands, -he said, and would give her sixpence a day, and food and -drink, if she chose to help in the hop picking.</p> - -<p>Lally nodded assent, and crept into the gate, and into -the presence of those who mocked at her. Her eyes<span class="pagenum">[242]</span> -were so wild, her manner so strange and still, that the -workers stared at her in wonder, whispered among -themselves, discovering that she was not of their kind, -and turned their backs upon her.</p> - -<p>It was taken for granted that the new hand had had -her breakfast, and not a crust was offered to her. The -hop raiser had doubts about her sanity, and observed -her narrowly, but a dozen times that day he mentally -congratulated himself on his acquisition. Lally worked -with feverish energy, trying—ah, how vainly—to escape -from her thoughts, and she did the work of two persons. -She had bread and cheese and a glass of ale at -noon, and a similar allowance of food for supper.</p> - -<p>That night she slept in a barn with the women tramps, -but chose a remote corner, where she buried herself in -the hay, and slept peacefully.</p> - -<p>The next day she would have wandered on in her unrest, -but the farmer, discovering her intention, offered -her a shilling a day, and she consented to remain. That -night she again slept in her remote corner of the barn, -and no one spoke to her or molested her.</p> - -<p>She made no friends among the tramps, not even -speaking to them. They were rude, vicious, quarrelsome. -She was educated and refined, had been the -teacher and companion of ladies, and was herself a lady -at heart. She went among these rude companions by -the soubriquet of “The Lady,” and this was the only -name by which the hop farmer knew her.</p> - -<p>For a week Lally kept up this toil, laboring in the -hop-fields by day, and sleeping in a barn at night. At -the end of that period, the work being finished, she was -no longer wanted, and she went her way, resuming her -weary tramp, with six shillings and sixpence in her -pocket.</p> - -<p>For the next fortnight she worked in various hop-fields,<span class="pagenum">[243]</span> -paying nothing for food or lodging. Her pay -was better too, she earning a sovereign in the two -weeks.</p> - -<p>Three weeks after overhearing Rufus solicit the hand -of Miss Wynde in marriage, Lally found herself at Canterbury, -shoeless and ragged, a very picture of destitution. -Her first act was to purchase a pair of shoes, a -ready-made print dress and a thin shawl. Her purchases -were all of the cheapest description, not costing her over -five shillings. She added to the list a round hat of -coarse straw, around which she tied a dark blue ribbon.</p> - -<p>She found a cheap lodging in the town; and here put -on her new clothes. The lodging was an attic room, -with a dormer window, close up under the slates of a -humble brick dwelling. There was no carpet on her -floor, and the furniture comprised only an iron bed-stead, -a chair and a table. The house was rented by a tailor, -who used the ground floor for his shop and residence, -and sub-let the upper rooms to a half dozen different -families. The three attic rooms were let to women, -Lally being one, and two thin, consumptive seamstresses -occupying the others.</p> - -<p>It was necessary for Lally to find employment without -delay, and she inserted an advertisement in one of -the local papers, soliciting a position as nursery governess. -She had the written recommendation of her former -employers, the superintendents of a ladies’ school, and -with this she hoped to secure a situation.</p> - -<p>Her advertisement was repeated for three days without -result. Upon the fourth day, as she was counting -her slender store of money, and wondering what she was -to do when that was gone, the postman’s knock was -heard on the private door below, and presently the -tailor’s little boy came to Lally’s room bringing a letter.</p> - -<p>She tore it open eagerly. It was dated Sandy Lands,<span class="pagenum">[244]</span> -and was written in a painfully minute style of penmanship, -with faint and spidery letters. The writer was a -lady, signing herself Mrs. Blight. She stated that she -had a family of nine children, five of whom were young -enough to require the services of a nursery governess. -If “L. B.”—the initials Lally had appended to her advertisement—could -give satisfactory references, was an -accomplished musician, spoke French and German, and -was well versed in the English branches, she might call -at Sandy Lands upon the following morning at ten -o’clock.</p> - -<p>Accordingly the next morning Lally set out in a cab -for Sandy Lands, whose location Mrs. Blight had described -with sufficient accuracy. It was situated in one -of the fashionable suburbs of the old cathedral town. -Lally expected from the grandeur of its name to find a -large and handsome estate, but found instead a pert -little villa, close to the road, and separated from it by a -high brick wall in which was a wooden gate. The domain -of Sandy Lands comprised a half-acre of rather -sterile soil, in which a few larches struggled for existence, -and an acacia and a lime tree led a sickly life.</p> - -<p>The little villa, with plate-glass windows, green parlor -shutters drawn half-way up, a gabled roof, from which -three saucy little dormer windows protruded, was unmistakably -the house of which Lally was in search, for on -one side of the gate, over a slit in the wall required for -the use of the proper letter-box, was the legend in bright -gilt letters, “Sandy Lands.”</p> - -<p>The cabman alighted and rang the garden bell. A -smart looking housemaid with white cap and white apron -answered the call. Lally alighted and asked if Mrs. -Blight were at home. The smart housemaid eyed the -humbly clad stranger rather contemptuously, and remarked<span class="pagenum">[245]</span> -that she could not be sure; Mrs. Blight might -be at home, and then again she might not.</p> - -<p>“I received a letter from her telling me to call at this -hour,” said Lally, with what dignity she could summon. -“I am seeking a situation as nursery governess.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, then Missus is at home,” replied the housemaid. -“You can come in, Miss.”</p> - -<p>Bidding the cabman wait, Lally followed the servant -across the garden to a rear porch and was ushered into -a small over-furnished reception room.</p> - -<p>“What name shall I say, Miss?” asked the maid, pausing -in the act of withdrawal.</p> - -<p>“Miss Bird,” answered poor Lally, who had relinquished -her young husband’s name, believing that she -had no longer any right to it.</p> - -<p>The maid went out, and was absent nearly twenty -minutes. Lally began to think herself forgotten, and -grew nervous, and engaged in a mental computation of -her cabman’s probable charges. The maid finally appeared, -however, and announced that “Missus was in -her boudoir, and would see the young person.”</p> - -<p>Lally was conducted up stairs to a front room overlooking -the road. This room, like the one below, was -over-furnished. The wide window opened upon a balcony, -and before it, half-reclining upon a silken couch, -was a lady in a heavy purple silk gown, and a profusion -of jewelry—a lady, short, stout, and red-visaged, with a -nose much turned up at the end, and so ruddy as to induce -one to think it in a state of inflammation.</p> - -<p>“Miss Bird!” announced the maid abruptly, flinging -in the words like a discharge of shot, and retired precipitately.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Blight turned her gaze upon Lally in a languid -curiosity, and waved her hand condescendingly, as an intimation -that the “young person” might be seated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum">[246]</span></p> - -<p>Lally sat down.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Blight then raised a pair of gold-mounted eye-glasses -to her nose, and scrutinized Lally more closely, -after what she deemed a very high-bred and <em>nonchalant</em> -fashion indeed.</p> - -<p>She beheld a humbly dressed girl, not past seventeen, -but looking younger, with a face as brown as a berry and -velvet-black eyes, which were strangely pathetic and sorrowful—a -girl who had known trouble evidently, but -who was pure and innocent as one might see at a glance.</p> - -<p>“Ah, is your name Bird?” asked Mrs. Blight languidly. -“Seems as if I had heard the name somewhere, but I -can’t be sure. Of course you have brought references, -Miss Bird?”</p> - -<p>“I have only a recommendation signed by ladies in -whose service I have been,” said Lally. “I have been -a music-teacher, but I possess the other accomplishments -you require.”</p> - -<p>She drew forth the little worn slip of paper which she -had guarded as of more value to her than money, -because it declared her respectable and a competent -music-teacher, and gave it into the lady’s fat hands.</p> - -<p>“It is not dated very lately,” said Mrs. Blight. “How -am I to know that this recommendation is not a forgery? -People do forge such things, I hear. Why, a -friend of mine took a footman on a forged recommendation, -and he ran away and took all her silver.”</p> - -<p>Lally’s honest cheeks flushed, and her heart swelled. -She would have arisen, but that the lady motioned to -her to retain her seat, and so long as there was a prospect -that she might secure the situation Lally would -remain.</p> - -<p>“The recommendation looks all right,” continued -Mrs. Blight, scanning it with her glass, while she held it -afar off, and daintily between two fingers, as if it were a<span class="pagenum">[247]</span> -thing unclean. “You look honest too, but appearances -are <em>so</em> deceiving! I had a nurse girl once who looked -like a Madonna, and as if butter wouldn’t melt in her -mouth, but she turned out a perfect minx, artful as a -cat. What salary do you expect?”</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t know, Madam. I have never been employed -as nursery governess.”</p> - -<p>“My husband allows me forty pounds a year for the -salary of the governess,” said Mrs. Blight. “But, of -course, forty pounds ought to get a governess with the -very best of references. You are inexperienced, as you -confess. Now I will take the risk of you turning out -bad, if you should decide to remain with me as governess -to my five children, at a salary of twenty pounds a -year, board and washing, lights and fuel, included.”</p> - -<p>It was “<a id="Ref_247" href="#BRef_247">Hobson’s</a> choice—that or none”—to poor -Lally. Twenty pounds a year, and to be sheltered and -fed and warmed besides, seemed very liberal after her -recent terrible struggle with the vulture of starvation.</p> - -<p>“I will accept it, Mrs. Blight,” she said, her voice -trembling—“that is, if you will take me when you know -that I have only the clothes I stand in, and that for a -few weeks I shall need my pay weekly to provide me -with decent garments.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, as to that,” said Mrs. Blight, “your clothes are -poor, beggarly, I might say. They will have to be improved -at once. I will advance you a quarter’s salary, -five pounds, if you are quite sure you will use it for -clothes, and that you do not intend to cheat me out of -my money. You see I always speak plainly. My governesses -are not pampered. They have to earn their -money, but that you probably expect to do. I don’t -know of another lady in Canterbury who would do as I -am doing, lending money to a perfect stranger, on a recommendation -you may have written yourself. But I<span class="pagenum">[248]</span> -am different from other ladies. <em>I</em> am a judge of physiognomy, -and am not often deceived in my estimate of -people. Why are you out of clothes?”</p> - -<p>“I have been out of a situation as a teacher for some -time,” said Lally. “I have the present addresses of the -ladies who signed my recommendation, and I beg you -to write to them to assure yourself that I have spoken -the truth. The addresses are written on the recommendation -itself.”</p> - -<p>“I noticed them, and shall write this very morning,” -declared Mrs. Blight. “Go now for your clothes, and -be back to luncheon. I want to introduce you to the -children, who are running wild.”</p> - -<p>She waved her hand, and Lally, with her five pounds -in her hand, took her departure. She had found a new -home, and one not likely to be pleasant, but it would -afford her shelter, and she believed she could bear all -things rather than to pass again through the poverty -and misery she had known. She little knew that it was -the hand of Providence that had brought her to Sandy -Lands, and that the acceptance of her present situation -was destined to change the entire future current of her -existence, and even to affect that of her young husband.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. -<br /><span class="cheaderfont">LALLY IN HER NEW SITUATION.</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>Lally returned to Canterbury in the cab that had -brought her out to Sandy Lands, Mrs. Blight’s pert little -villa in the suburbs, and entered upon the task of procuring -a neat although necessarily scanty wardrobe. -She bought a cheap box, which she had sent to her<span class="pagenum">[249]</span> -lodgings. A lady’s furnishing house yielded her a -change of under garments, another print dress, and a -gown of black alpaca, and a supply of collars and -cuffs; her entire purchases amounting to three pounds -ten shillings. She carried her effects to her attic lodgings, -the rent of which she had paid in advance, packed -her box, and set out again in the cab for Sandy Lands.</p> - -<p>It was noon when the vehicle stopped again before the -little villa. The cabman rang the garden bell as before, -and when the housemaid appeared he dumped down -Lally’s box upon the gravelled walk, received his pay, -and departed. The smart housemaid was as contemptuous -as before of Lally’s humble garments, but spoke -to her familiarly, as if the two were upon a social level, -and conducted her toward the rear porch, saying:</p> - -<p>“Missus said you was to be shown up to your room, -Miss, to make your twilet before seeing the children. If -you please,” added the girl, with increasing familiarity, -“you and I are to see a good deal of each other, and so -I want to know what to call you.”</p> - -<p>Whatever the social rank of Lally’s parents, Lally herself -was a lady by instinct and education. The housemaid’s -easy patronage was offensive to her. She answered -quietly:</p> - -<p>“You may call me Miss Bird.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said the housemaid, with a sniff and a toss of -her head. “That’s the talk, is it? Well, then, Miss -Bird, follow me up to your room. This way, Miss Bird. -Up these stairs, Miss Bird.”</p> - -<p>Lally followed her guide up the stairs to the third -and topmost story, and to a rear room.</p> - -<p>“This is the room of the nussery governess,” said the -offended housemaid, her nose in the air. “The room on -your right is the school-room, Miss Bird. That on the -left is the nussery. You are to have your room to yourself,<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> -Miss Bird, which I hopes will suit you. There’s no -petting of governesses in this here ’stablishment. You -rises at seven, Miss Bird, and eats with the children. -You begins lessons at nine o’clock, Miss Bird, and keeps -’em up till luncheon, and then comes music, langwidges, -and them sort. Dinner in the school-room, Miss Bird, -at five o’clock. Your evenings you has to yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I shall receive my list of duties from Mrs. Blight,” -said Lally pleasantly, “but I am obliged to you all the -same.”</p> - -<p>The housemaid’s face softened under Lally’s gentleness -and sweetness.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t wonder if she was a born lady, after all,” -the girl thought. “She won’t stand putting down, and -her face is that sorrowful I pity her.”</p> - -<p>But she did not give expression to these thoughts. -What she did say was this:</p> - -<p>“My name’s Loizy, and if I can do anything for you -just let me know. There’s my bell, and I must go. -When you get ready, come down stairs to Missus’s boo-door.”</p> - -<p>She vanished just as the house boy, or Buttons, as he -was called, appeared with Lally’s box. He set this down -near the door, and also departed. Left alone, Lally examined -her new home with a faint thrill of interest.</p> - -<p>The floor was bare, with the exception of a strip of -loose and threadbare carpet before the low brass bedstead. -There was a chintz-covered couch, a chintz-covered -easy-chair, a chest of drawers, and a green-shuttered -blind at the single window. The room had a dreary aspect, -but to Lally it was a haven of refuge.</p> - -<p>She locked her door and knelt down and prayed, -thanking God that He had been so good to her as to -give her a safe shelter and a home. Then, rising, she -dressed herself as quickly as possible, putting on her<span class="pagenum">[251]</span> -black alpaca dress, a spotless linen collar and cuffs, a -black sash, and a black ribbon in her hair. Thus attired, -she descended the stairs, finding the way to the boudoir, -at the door of which she knocked.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Blight’s languid voice bade her enter.</p> - -<p>She obeyed, finding her employer still reclining in an -armed chair, looking as if she had not moved since -Lally’s previous visit. She had a book in one hand, a -paper cutter in the other. She recognized Lally with a -sort of pleased surprise.</p> - -<p>“Ah, back again, and punctual!” she exclaimed, glancing -at a toy clock in white and blue enamel on the low -mantel-piece. “I had a great many misgivings after -you went away, Miss Bird. Five pounds is a good deal -of money to one in your position in life, and the world -is <em>so</em> full of swindlers. I have already written to the -ladies to whom you referred me. I suppose I should -have waited for their answer before engaging you, but I -am such an impulsive creature, I always do just as I feel -at the spur of the moment. My husband calls me ‘a -child of impulse,’ and the words describe me exactly. -I’m glad to see you back. I don’t know, I’m sure, what -I should have said to Mr. Blight if you had decamped, -for he does not appreciate my ability to read faces. -The time I got taken in with my last cook—the one -we found lying with her head in a brass kettle, and -the kitchen fire gone out, at the very hour when I had a -large company assembled to dine with me—Charles said, -‘Fudge, don’t let us hear any more about physiognomy.’ -You see, I engaged the woman because her face was all -that could be desired. And since that time Charles -won’t hear a word about physiognomy.”</p> - -<p>Lally sat down, obeying a wave of Mrs. Blight’s hand. -That “child of impulse,” silly, garrulous, and puffed up<span class="pagenum">[252]</span> -with self-importance and vulgarity, pursued her theme -until she had exhausted it.</p> - -<p>“You are looking very well, Miss Bird,” she said, -changing the subject, “but all in black—why, you are -quite a black-bird, I declare,” and she laughed at her -own wit. “Are you in mourning? Have you lately -lost a friend?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madam,” replied Lally sorrowfully, “I have -lately lost the only friend I had in the whole world.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed. That is sad; but I do hope you won’t -wear a long face and go moping about the house, frightening -the children,” said Mrs. Blight, with a candor that -was less charming than oppressive to her newly engaged -governess. “You must do as the poet so romantically -says:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="indent10">“‘Wear a smile, -</div><div class="indent0">Though the cold heart runs darkly to ruin the while.’ -</div></div></div></div> - -<p>“If he doesn’t say that, it’s some such thing, and a very -pretty sentiment too. And now let us discuss your new -duties.”</p> - -<p>She proceeded to sketch Lally’s duties much as the -housemaid had done. Then she gave a history of each -one of the five children who were to be under Lally’s -supervision. Three of the children were boys, and their -fond mother described them as paragons. Her girls -also were extraordinary in their mental and physical -attractions, “having once been taken at the Zoological -gardens during a visit to London, by a strange gentleman, -for the children of a nobleman!”</p> - -<p>“I will accompany you to the nursery, Miss Bird,” -said the lady, arising. “I desire to introduce you to my -darlings. I have great faith in the instincts of children, -and I want to see what my children think of you.”</p> - -<p>Accordingly Mrs. Blight conducted Lally again to the<span class="pagenum">[253]</span> -upper floor and to the nursery, which was at the moment -of their entrance in a state of wildest confusion -and disorder.</p> - -<p>The nurse, a stout old woman, and the nursemaid, a -red-faced young girl, were in a state of despair, and -frantically holding their hands to their ears, while five -robust, boisterous, frouzy-headed children rode about -the room upon chairs, played “tag,” and otherwise disported -themselves.</p> - -<p>The entrance of Mrs. Blight and Lally caused a cessation -of the noise. The mother called her children to -her, but they retreated with their fingers in their mouths, -looking askance at their new governess. The three -“noble boys” presently set up a loud bellowing, and the -two girls who had been “mistaken by a strange gentleman -for the children of a nobleman,” hid behind their -nurses.</p> - -<p>It required all the persuasions, coupled with threats, -of Mrs. Blight, to induce her shy children to show themselves -to Lally. It appeared that they had a horror of -governesses, regarding them as tyrants and ogresses created -especially to destroy the happiness of children; but -Lally’s smiles, added to the fact that she looked but little -more than a child, finally induced them to be sociable -and to approach her.</p> - -<p>“In a day or two you won’t be able to do anything -with them, Miss,” said the head nurse. “They’ll ride -rough-shod over you.”</p> - -<p>“They are so spirited,” murmured Mrs. Blight. -“Study their characters closely, Miss Bird, and be very -tender with them. I have one child more than the -Queen, and my children are named for the royal family. -These three boys are Leopold, Albert Victor, and -George. The girls are named Victoria and Alberta. -My elder children are at school. Children, this is Miss<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> -Bird, your new governess. Now come with her into the -school-room. Lessons begin immediately.”</p> - -<p>The little flock, with Lally at their head, was conducted -to the school-room, a large, bare apartment, furnished -with two benches, a teacher’s chair and desk, and -a black-board. Here Mrs. Blight left them, convinced -that she had fulfilled her duties as parent and employer, -and returned to her book.</p> - -<p>Lally proceeded to examine into the acquirements of -her pupils, finding them lamentably ignorant. Lessons -were given out, but there was no disposition on the part -of her pupils to study. They threw paper balls at each -other, whispered and giggled, and altogether proved -at the very outset a sore trial to their young teacher. -Their shyness lasted for but a brief period, and then, -having no longer fear of the sad-faced governess, they -began to romp about the room, to shout, and to engage -in a general game of frolics.</p> - -<p>Lally had a vein of decision in her character, and with -the exercise of a gentle firmness induced her pupils to -return to their seats. She explained their lessons to -them, with an unfailing patience, but the hours of that -September afternoon seemed almost endless to her. -The children were froward, disobedient, and idle. They -had been spoiled by their mother, and were full of mischievous -tricks, so that Lally’s soul wearied within her.</p> - -<p>Dinner, a very plain and frugal one, was served to the -governess and the children in the school-room at five -o’clock. After dinner, Lally’s time belonged to herself, -and she put on her hat and went out for a walk, having -a longing for the fresh air.</p> - -<p>This first day at Sandy Lands was a fair type of the -days that followed. The children, under Lally’s firm -but gentle rule, became more quiet and studious, and -conceived an affection for their young governess. Mrs.<span class="pagenum">[255]</span> -Blight was delighted with their improvement. She had -received a reply from Lally’s former employers, giving -the young girl very high praise, and was consequently -well pleased with herself for securing such valuable services -as Lally’s at a salary less than half she had ever -before paid to a governess.</p> - -<p>Mr. Blight was a lawyer in good practice at Canterbury, -and spent his days at his office, returning to Sandy Lands -to dine, and leaving home immediately after breakfast. -He was a small, ferret-eyed man, always in a hurry, -a mere money making machine, with a great ambition to -make or acquire a fortune. At present he lived fully up -to his income, a fact which gave both him and Mrs. -Blight much secret anxiety. With ten children to educate -and provide for, several servants to pay, a carriage -and pair for Mrs. Blight, and the lawyer’s wines, cigars, -frequent elaborate dinners to his friends, and other items -by no means small to settle, Mr. Blight was continually -harassed by debt, and yet had not sufficient strength of -will to reduce his expenses and live within his income.</p> - -<p>One cause, perhaps, of their indiscreet self-indulgence -was that they had “expectations.”</p> - -<p>There was an old lady connected with the family, the -widow of a wealthy London banker who had been Mr. -Blight’s uncle. This old lady was supposed to have no -relatives of her own to enrich at her death, and the -Blights had lively hopes of inheriting her fifty thousand -pounds, which had descended to her absolutely at her -husband’s death, and of which she was free to dispose as -she might choose.</p> - -<p>This lady lived in London, at the West End, was very -eccentric, very irascible, and went little in society, being -quite aged and infirm. She was in the habit of coming -down to Sandy Lands annually in September, ostensibly -to spend a month with her late husband’s relatives; but<span class="pagenum">[256]</span> -she always returned home within a week, alleging that -she could not bear the noise of the Blight children, and -that a month under the same roof with them would deprive -her of life or reason. It was now about the time -of this lady’s annual visit, and one morning, when Lally -had been about two weeks at Sandy Lands, Mrs. Blight -came up to the school-room, an open letter in her hand, -and dismissing the children to the nursery for a few minutes, -said confidentially:</p> - -<p>“Miss Bird, I have just received a letter from the -widow of my husband’s uncle, a remarkable old lady, -with fifty thousand pounds at her own absolute disposal. -My husband is naturally the old lady’s heir, being her -late husband’s nephew, and we expect to inherit her property. -Her name is Mrs. Wroat.”</p> - -<p>“An odd name!” murmured Lally.</p> - -<p>“And she’s as odd as her name,” declared Mrs. Blight. -“She comes here at this time every year, and always -brings a parrot, a lap-dog, a band-box in a green muslin -case, a blue umbrella, and a snuffy old maid, who eyes us -all as if we had designs on her mistress’s life. The absurd -old creature is devoted to her mistress, who is a mere -bundle of whims and eccentricities. The old lady calls for a -cup of coffee at midnight, and she hates our dear children, -and she thrashed Leopold with her cane last year, because -he put nettles in her bed and flour on her best cap, -the poor dear innocent child. And I never dared to interfere -to save Leopold, though his screams rang through -the house, and I stood outside her door listening and -peeping, for you know we must have her fifty thousand -pounds, even if she takes the lives of all my darlings!” -and Mrs. Blight’s tone was pathetic. “She’s a nasty old -beast—there! Of course I say it in confidence, Miss -Bird. It would be all up with us, if Aunt Wroat were to -hear that I said that. She’s very tenacious of respect,<span class="pagenum">[257]</span> -and all that bother, and insisted I should punish Albert -Victor because he called her ‘an old curmudgeon.’”</p> - -<p>“When do you expect this lady?” asked Lally.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow, with her maid, lapdog, parrot, umbrella -and bandbox. She writes that she will stay a month, -and that she must have no annoyance from the children, -and that she won’t have them in her room—the old nuisance! -If it wasn’t for her money, I’d telegraph her to -go to Guinea, but as we are situated I can’t. I must put -up with her ways. And what I want of you, Miss Bird, -is to see that the children do not stir off this floor while -she is here. Let them die for want of exercise, the poor -darlings, rather than we offend this horrid old woman. -If we sacrifice ourselves, she can’t leave her property to -some fussy old charity, that’s one comfort.”</p> - -<p>“I will do my best to keep the children out of Mrs. -Wroat’s sight,” said Lally gravely.</p> - -<p>“You must succeed in doing so, for the old lady says -this will probably be her last visit to us, as she is growing -more and more infirm, and she hints that it is time -to make her will. Everything depends upon her reception -on the occasion of this visit. Let her get miffed at -us, and it’s all up. I declare I wish I had a place where -I could hide the children during her stay. She must not -see or hear them, Miss Bird.”</p> - -<p>“Is there anything more that I can do, Mrs. Blight?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; she always has the governess play upon the -piano and sing to her in the evening. She is fond of -music, desperately so. We always hire a cottage piano -and put it in her sitting-room while she stays, and the -governess plays to her there evenings. She’s very liberal -with a governess who can play well. She gave Miss -Oddly last year a five-pound note. And always when -she leaves us after a visit, she hands me twenty pounds -and says she never wants to be indebted to anybody, and<span class="pagenum">[258]</span> -that’s to defray her expenses while here. I have to -take it. I wouldn’t dare to refuse it.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be glad to amuse her in any way, Mrs. Blight,” -declared the young governess. “I shall not mind her -eccentricities, and shall remember that she is ‘aged and -infirm.’”</p> - -<p>“And she has fifty thousand pounds which we must -have,” said Mrs. Blight. “Don’t fail to remember that!”</p> - -<p>Much relieved at having guarded against a meeting -between her expected guest and her children, Mrs. Blight -departed to seek an interview with her cook.</p> - -<p>Extensive preparations were made that day for the reception -of Mrs. Wroat. Two rooms were prepared for -her use, one of them having two beds, one bed being for -the use of the maid. A cottage piano was hired and put -into one of the rooms. The choicest articles of furniture -in the house were arranged for her use. The hint that -Mrs. Wroat was thinking of making her will was sufficient -to render her time-serving, money-hunting relatives -gentle, pliable, and apparently full of tender anxiety for -her happiness and comfort.</p> - -<p>Mr. Blight was informed of the good news when he -came home to dinner, and he sought a personal interview -with his children’s governess, entreating her to -keep the youngsters out of sight during the visit of Mrs. -Wroat, as she valued her situation.</p> - -<p>Everything being thus arranged, it only remained for -the guest to arrive.</p> - -<p>No. 232 of the <span class="smcap">Select Library</span>, entitled “Neva’s -Choice,” is the sequel to the foregoing novel, and the -story of Neva’s romance, together with the intrigues and -plottings of her enemies, is charmingly brought to its -conclusion.</p> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="xxlargefont boldfont center">What Makes a Superwoman?</p> -<div class="center boldfont largefont"> -<table style="border:0em; padding:0em; border-spacing:0em" summary="Superwoman list"> -<tr><td class="tdl">Beauty?</td><td class="tdr">No!</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Daintiness?</td><td class="tdr" style="padding-left:1em">No!</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Wit?</td><td class="tdr">No!</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Youth?</td><td class="tdr">No!</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Femininity?</td><td class="tdr">No!</td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p class="xlargefont boldfont center">Seek the Superwoman</p> - -<p>You will find her in almost every generation, in almost every -country, in almost every city. She is not a typical adventuress, -she is not a genius. The reason for her strong power is occult. -The nameless charm is found as often in homely, clumsy, dull, -old masculine women as in the reverse of these types.</p> - -<p class="xlargefont boldfont center">What Makes a Superwoman?</p> - -<p>If you think the problem worth while, why not try to solve it -by reading Albert Payson Terhune’s great book, SUPERWOMEN? -From Cleopatra to Lady Hamilton—they are mighty -interesting characters. Some of them smashed thrones, some -of them were content with wholesale heart smashing. You -will know their secret, or rather their secrets, for seldom did -two of them follow the same plan of campaign.</p> - -<p>We have prepared a very handsome, special, limited edition -of the book, worthy of a place on your “best book” shelf. If -you subscribe to AINSLEE’S MAGAZINE now you can purchase -it for 50c. Send us a money order for $2.50 and receive -SUPERWOMEN postpaid, and, in addition, over 1900 pages of -splendid fiction throughout the coming year. AINSLEE’S -MAGAZINE is the best and smartest purely fiction magazine -published. You cannot invest $2.50 in reading matter to better -advantage than by availing yourself of this offer. Send check -or money order or, if you remit in cash, do not fail to register -the envelope. Act now!</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont"><span style="word-spacing:0.5em">The Ainslee Magazine Company</span><br /> -79 Seventh Avenue <span style="padding-left:1em">New York City</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="boxit1"><p class="center xxlargefont boldfont">History of the<br /> -World War</p> - -<p class="center xlargefont boldfont"><em><span class="largefont">By</span> Thomas R. Best</em></p> - -<p class="dropcap">The most portentous crisis in the history -of the human family has just passed. -The World War was conceived in greed -and will be consummated in justice. It will -prove a blessing to mankind, because it spells -emancipation to countless unborn generations -from enslaving political and social -evils. It is a big subject and one that will -be discussed in every household for many -years to come. Questions will arise that -only a clear, concise account of the war -in handy form can settle.</p> - -<p>Therefore, we ask you to consider <cite><b>History -of the World War</b></cite> by Thomas R. Best -which has been written from the American -standpoint. It is purely history—not vituperation. -This volume has a chronology of -important events that will prove of inestimable -reference value.</p> - -<p class="largefont boldfont center">Price 25 Cents</p> - -<p class="center"><em>If ordered by mail add four cents to cover cost of postage</em></p> - -<p class="center largefont"><span class="xlargefont">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</span><br /> -79 Seventh Avenue<span style="padding-left:4em"> New York City</span></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center xxlargefont boldfont">A Big Step</p> - -<p>forward in quality is the reason for the unprecedented -strides in popularity that the S. & S. -novels are making.</p> - -<p>The demand has been greater than the supply, -the latter having been somewhat restricted on -account of war conditions. We are running our -presses night and day turning out “good ones” -for the consumption of men and women who -want good reading matter and who have got to -get it at a modest price.</p> - -<p>If you want to read a novel really worth while, -buy a copy of No. 1020 <span class="smcap">New Eagle Series</span>—SLIGHTED -LOVE—by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh -Miller. This is a book that will be appreciated -by every woman.</p> - -<p>If the above are ordered from the publishers, -4c. must be added to the retail price of each copy -to cover postage.</p> - -<p class="center largefont"><span class="xlargefont">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</span><br /> -79 Seventh Avenue,<span style="padding-left:4em"> New York City</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="boxit1"> -<p class="center xxlargefont boldfont">1855-1919</p> - -<p>For sixty-four consecutive years, Street & -Smith have specialized in the publication of clean, -wholesome fiction. During this time we gave -the public what it wanted, and as the demand -changed, our publications changed with it.</p> - -<p>What most American readers want at present -are the S. & S. novels, especially those in the <span class="smcap">New -Eagle Series</span> by Emma Garrison Jones, who -wrote straightaway American love stories of exceptional -interest and vigor. Mrs. Jones’ works -cannot be found in any other line, and for interest -they cannot be excelled at the price.</p> - -<p>Here are some of the best Jones books:</p> - -<div class="center boldfont largefont"> -<table style="border:0em; padding:0em; border-spacing:0em" summary="Book list."> -<tr><td class="tdl"><b>Against Love’s Rules</b></td><td class="tdr" style="padding-left:2em"><b>No. 890</b></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><b>All Lost but Love</b></td><td class="tdr"><b>No. 868</b></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><b>Her Twentieth Guest</b></td><td class="tdr"><b>No. 860</b></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><b>His Good Angel</b></td><td class="tdr"><b>No. 786</b></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl"><b>Just for a Title</b></td><td class="tdr"><b>No. 909</b></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p>If the above are ordered from the publishers, -4c. must be added to the retail price of each copy -to cover postage.</p> - -<p class="center largefont"><span class="xlargefont">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION</span><br /> -79 Seventh Avenue,<span style="padding-left:4em"> New York City</span></p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="xxlargefont boldfont center" style="word-spacing:0.15em">A REQUEST</p> - -<p>Conditions due to the war have made it very difficult -for us to keep in print all of the books listed in our -catalogues. We still have about fifteen hundred different -titles that we are in a position to supply. These -represent the best books in our line. We could not afford, -in the circumstances, to reprint any of the less -popular works.</p> - -<p>We aim to keep in stock the works of such authors as -Bertha Clay, Charles Garvice, May Agnes Fleming, -Nicholas Carter, Mary J. Holmes, Mrs. Harriet Lewis, -Horatio Alger, and the other famous authors who are -represented in our line by ten or more titles. Therefore, -if your dealer cannot supply you with exactly the -book you want, you are almost sure to find in his stock -another title by the same author, which you have not -read.</p> - -<p>It short, we are asking you to take what your dealer -can supply, rather than to insist upon just what you -want. You won’t lose anything by such substitution, -because the books by the authors named are very uniform -in quality.</p> - -<p>In ordering Street & Smith novels by mail, it is advisable -to make a choice of at least two titles for each -book wanted, so as to give us an opportunity to substitute -for titles that are now out of print.</p> - -<p class="center largefont boldfont" style="margin-left:15em">STREET & SMITH CORPORATION,<br /> -<span style="padding-left:5em">79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.</span></p> -</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_35" href="#Ref_35">p. 35</a>: Missing letter assumed to be C (Even Madame Da-Caret, the)</p> - -<p><a id="BRef_114" href="#Ref_114">p. 114</a>: second changed to third (her third marriage)</p> - -<p><a id="BRef_216" href="#Ref_216">p. 216</a>: In changed to I’ll (cruel. I’ll dismiss)</p> - -<p><a id="BRef_247" href="#Ref_247">p. 247</a>: Dobson’s changed to Hobson’s (was “Hobson’s choice)</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEVA'S THREE LOVERS ***</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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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