Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 14 (31 page)

 
          
           
Paul laughed as he glanced after her and, flinging himself onto his horse, rode
away to the stables at a reckless pace, as if to work off some emotion for
which he could find no other vent.

 
          
           
"Here's a letter for you, lad, all the way from some place in
Italy
. Who do you know there?" said
Bedford
, as the boy came back.

 
          
           
With a hasty "Thank you," Paul caught the letter and darted away to
his own room, there to tear it open and, after reading a single line, to drop
into a chair as if he had received a sudden blow. Growing paler and paler he
read on, and when the letter fell from his hands he exclaimed, in a tone of
despair, "How could he die at such a time!"

 
          
           
For an hour the boy sat thinking intently, with locked door, curtained window,
and several papers strewn before him. Letters, memoranda, plans, drawings, and
bits of parchment, all of which he took from a small locked portfolio always
worn about him. Over these he pored with a face in which hope, despondency,
resolve, and regret alternated rapidly. Taking the locket out he examined a
ring which lay in one side, and the childish face which smiled on him from the
other. His eyes filled as he locked and put it by, saying tenderly,
"
Dear little heart! I'll not forget or desert
her whatever
happens. Time must help me, and to time I must
leave my work. One more attempt and then I'm off."

 
          
           
"I'll go to bed now, Hester; but while you get my things ready I'll take a
turn in the corridor. The air will refresh me."

 
          
           
As she spoke, Lady Trevlyn drew her wrapper about her and paced softly down the
long hall lighted only by fitful gleams of moonlight and the ruddy glow of the
fire. At the far end was the state chamber, never used now, and never visited
except by Hester, who occasionally went in to dust and air it, and my lady, who
always passed the anniversary of Sir Richard's death alone there. The gallery
was very dark, and she seldom went farther than the last window in her restless
walks, but as she now approached she was startled to see a streak of yellow
light under the door. She kept the key herself and neither she nor Hester had
been there that day. A cold shiver passed over her for, as she looked, the
shadow of a foot darkened the light for a moment and vanished as if someone had
noiselessly passed. Obeying a sudden impulse, my lady sprang forward and tried
to open the door. It was locked, but as her hand turned the silver knob a sound
as if a drawer softly closed met her ear. She stooped to the keyhole but it was
dark, a key evidently being in the lock. She drew back and flew to her room,
snatched the key from her dressing table, and, bidding Hester follow, returned
to the hall.

 
          
           
"What is it, my lady?" cried the woman, alarmed at the agitation of
her mistress.

 
          
           
"A light, a sound, a shadow in the state chamber.
Come quick!" cried Lady Trevlyn, adding, as she pointed to the door,
"There, there, the light shines underneath. Do you see it?"

 
          
           
"No, my lady, it's dark," returned Hester.

 
          
           
It was, but never
pausing
my lady thrust in the key,
and to her surprise it turned, the door flew open, and the dim, still room was
before them. Hester boldly entered, and while her mistress slowly followed, she
searched the room, looking behind the tall screen by the hearth, up the wide
chimney, in the great wardrobe, and under the ebony cabinet, where all the
relics of Sir Richard were kept. Nothing appeared, not even a mouse, and Hester
turned to my lady with an air of relief. But her mistress pointed to the bed
shrouded in dark velvet hangings, and whispered breathlessly, "You forgot
to look there."

 
          
           
Hester had not forgotten, but in spite of her courage and good sense she shrank
a little from looking at the spot where she had last seen her master's dead
face. She believed the light and sound to be phantoms of my lady's distempered
fancy, and searched merely to satisfy her. The mystery of Sir Richard's death
still haunted the minds of all who remembered it, and even Hester felt a
superstitious dread of that room. With a nervous laugh she looked under the bed
and, drawing back the heavy curtains, said soothingly, "You see, my lady,
there's nothing there."

 
          
           
But the words died on her lips, for, as the pale glimmer of the candle pierced
the gloom of that funeral couch, both saw a face upon the pillow: a pale face
framed in dark hair and beard, with closed eyes and the stony look the dead
wear. A loud, long shriek that roused the house broke from Lady Trevlyn as she
fell senseless at the bedside, and dropping both curtain and candle Hester
caught up her mistress and fled from the haunted room, locking the door behind
her.

 
          
           
In a moment a dozen servants were about them, and into their astonished ears
Hester poured her story while vainly trying to restore her lady. Great was the
dismay and intense the unwillingness of anyone to obey when Hester ordered the
men to search the room again, for she was the first to regain her
self-possession.

 
          
           
"Where's Paul? He's the heart of a man, boy though he is," she said
angrily as the men hung back.

 
          
           
"He's not here. Lord! Maybe it was him a-playing tricks, though it ain't
like him," cried Bessy, Lillian's little maid.

 
          
           
"No, it can't be him, for I locked him in myself. He walks in his sleep
sometimes, and I was afraid he'd startle my lady. Let him sleep; this would
only excite him and set him to marching again. Follow me, Bedford and
James,
I'm not afraid of ghosts or rogues."

 
          
           
With a face that belied her words Hester led the way to the awful room, and
flinging back the curtain resolutely looked in. The bed was empty, but on the
pillow was plainly visible the mark of a head and a single scarlet stain, as of
blood. At that sight Hester turned pale and caught the butler's arm, whispering
with a shudder, "Do you remember the night we put him in his coffin, the
drop of blood that fell from his white lips? Sir Richard has been here."

 
          
           
"Good Lord, ma'am, don't say that! We can never rest in our beds if such
things are to happen," gasped
Bedford
, backing to the door.

 
          
           
"It's no use to look, we've found all we shall find so go your ways and
tell no one of this," said the woman in a gloomy tone, and, having assured
herself that the windows were fast, Hester locked the room and ordered everyone
but Bedford and the housekeeper to bed. "Do you sit outside my lady's door
till morning," she said to the butler, "and you, Mrs. Price, help me
to tend my poor lady, for if I'm not mistaken this night's work will bring on
the old trouble."

 
          
           
Morning came, and with it a new alarm; for, though his door was fast locked and
no foothold for even a sparrow outside the window, Paul's room was empty, and
the boy nowhere to be found.

 
          
           
Four years had passed, and Lillian was fast blooming into a lovely woman: proud
and willful as ever, but very charming, and already a belle in the little world
where she still
reigned
a queen. Owing to her mother's
ill health, she was allowed more freedom than is usually permitted to an
English girl of her age; and, during the season, often went into company with a
friend of Lady Trevlyn's who was chaperoning two young daughters of her own. To
the world Lillian seemed a gay, free-hearted girl; and no one, not even her
mother, knew how well she remembered and how much she missed the lost Paul. No
tidings of him had ever come, and no trace of him was found after his flight.
Nothing was missed, he went without his wages, and no reason could be divined
for his departure except the foreign letter.
Bedford
remembered it, but forgot what postmark it
bore, for he had only been able to decipher "
Italy
." My lady made many inquiries and
often spoke of him; but when month after month passed and no news came, she
gave him up, and on Lillian's account feigned to forget him. Contrary to
Hester's fear, she did not seem the worse for the nocturnal fright, but
evidently connected the strange visitor with Paul, or, after a day or two of
nervous exhaustion, returned to her usual state of health. Hester had her own
misgivings, but, being forbidden to allude to the subject, she held her peace,
after emphatically declaring that Paul would yet appear to set her mind at
rest.

 
          
           
"Lillian, Lillian, I've such news for you! Come and hear a charming little
romance, and prepare to see the hero of it!" cried Maud Churchill, rushing
into her friend's pretty boudoir one day in the height of the season.

 
          
           
Lillian lay on a couch, rather languid after a ball, and listlessly begged Maud
to tell her story, for she was dying to be amused.

 
          
           
"Well my, dear, just listen and you'll be as enthusiastic as I am,"
cried Maud. And throwing her bonnet on one chair, her parasol on another, and
her gloves anywhere, she settled herself on the couch and began: "You
remember reading in the papers, some time ago, that fine account of the young
man who took part in the Italian revolution and did that heroic thing with the
bombshell?"

 
          
           
"Yes, what of him?" asked Lillian, sitting up.

 
          
           
"He is my hero, and we are to see him tonight."

 
          
           
"Go on, go on! Tell all, and tell it quickly," she cried.

 
          
           
"You know the officers were sitting somewhere, holding a council, while
the city (I forget the name) was being bombarded, and how a shell came into the
midst of them, how they sat paralyzed, expecting it to burst, and how this
young man caught it up and ran out with it, risking his own life to save
theirs?"

 
          
           
"Yes, yes, I remember!" And Lillian's listless face kindled at the
recollection.

 
          
           
"Well, an Englishman who was there was so charmed by the act that, finding
the young man was poor and an orphan, he adopted him. Mr. Talbot was old, and
lonely, and rich, and when he died, a year after, he left his name and fortune
to this Paolo."

 
          
           
"I'm glad, I'm glad!" cried Lillian, clapping her hands with a joyful
face. "How romantic and charming it is!"

 
          
           
"Isn't it? But, my dear creature, the most romantic part is to come. Young
Talbot served in the war, and then came to
England
to take possession of his property. It's
somewhere down in
Kent
, a fine place and good income, all his; and he deserves it. Mamma heard
a deal about him from Mrs. Langdon, who knew old Talbot and has seen the young
man. Of course all the girls are wild to behold him, for he is very handsome
and accomplished, and a gentleman by birth. But the dreadful part is that he is
already betrothed to a lovely Greek girl, who came over at the same time, and
is living in
London
with a companion; quite elegantly, Mrs. Langdon says, for she called
and was charmed. This girl has been seen by some of our gentlemen friends, and
they already rave about the 'fair Helene,' for that's her name."

 
          
           
Here Maud was forced to stop for breath, and Lillian had a chance to question
her.

 
          
           
"How old is she?"

 
          
           
"About eighteen or nineteen, they say."

 
          
           
"Very pretty?"

 
          
           
"Ravishing, regularly Greek and divine, Fred Raleigh says."

 
          
           
"When is she to be married?"

 
          
           
"Don't know; when Talbot gets settled, I fancy."

 
          
           
"And he? Is he as charming as she?"

 
          
           
"Quite, I'm told. He's just of age, and is, in appearance as in everything
else, a hero of romance."

 
          
           
"How came your mother to secure him for tonight?"

 
          
           
"Mrs. Langdon is dying to make a lion of him, and begged to bring him. He
is very indifferent on such things and seems intent on his own affairs. Is
grave and old for his years, and doesn't seem to care much for pleasure and
admiration, as most men would after a youth like his, for he has had a hard
time, I believe. For a wonder, he consented to come when Mrs. Langdon asked
him, and I flew off at once to tell you and secure you for tonight."

 
          
           
"A thousand thanks. I meant to rest, for Mamma frets about my being so
gay; but she won't object to a quiet evening with you. What shall we
wear?" And here the conversation branched off on the all-absorbing topic
of dress.

 
          
           
When Lillian joined her friend that evening, the hero had already arrived, and,
stepping into a recess, she waited to catch a glimpse of him. Maud was called
away, and she was alone when the crowd about the inner room thinned and
permitted young Talbot to be seen. Well for Lillian that no one observed her at
that moment, for she grew pale and sank into a chair, exclaiming below her
breath, "It is Paul—
my
Paul!"

 
          
           
She recognized him instantly, in spite of increased height, a dark moustache,
and martial bearing. It was Paul, older, graver, handsomer, but still "her
Paul," as she called him, with a flush of pride and delight as she watched
him, and felt that of all there she knew him best and loved him most.
For the childish affection still existed, and this discovery added
a tinge of romance that made it doubly dangerous as well as doubly pleasant.

 
          
           
Will he know me?
she
thought, glancing at a mirror
which reflected a slender figure with bright hair, white arms, and brilliant
eyes; a graceful little head, proudly carried, and a sweet mouth, just then
very charming, as it smiled till pearly teeth shone between the ruddy lips.

 
          
           
I'm glad I'm not ugly, and I hope he'll like me, she thought, as she smoothed
the golden ripples on her forehead, settled her sash, and shook out the folds
of her airy dress in a flutter of girlish excitement. "I'll pretend not to
know him, when we meet, and see what he will do," she said, with a wicked
sense of power; for being forewarned she was forearmed, and, fearing no
betrayal of surprise on her own part, was eager to enjoy any of which he might
be guilty.

 
          
           
Leaving her nook, she joined a group of young friends and held herself prepared
for the meeting. Presently she saw Maud and Mrs. Langdon approaching, evidently
intent on presenting the hero to the heiress.

 
          
           
"Mr. Talbot, Miss Trevlyn," said the lady. And looking up with a
well-assumed air of indifference, Lillian returned the gentleman's bow with her
eyes fixed full upon his face.

 
          
           
Not a feature of that face changed, and so severely unconscious of any
recognition was it that the girl was bewildered. For a moment she fancied she
had been mistaken in his identity, and a pang of disappointment troubled her;
but as he moved a chair for Maud, she saw on the one ungloved hand a little
scar which she remembered well, for he received it in saving her from a
dangerous fall. At the sight all the happy past rose before her, and if her
telltale eyes had not been averted they would have betrayed her. A sudden flush
of maidenly shame dyed her cheek as she remembered that last ride, and the
childish confidences then interchanged. This Helen was the little sweetheart
whose picture he wore, and now, in spite of all obstacles, he had won both
fortune and ladylove. The sound of his voice recalled her thoughts, and
glancing up she met the deep eyes fixed on her with the same steady look they
used to wear. He had addressed her, but what he said she knew not, beyond a
vague idea that it was some slight allusion to the music going on in the next
room. With a smile which would serve for an answer to almost any remark, she
hastily plunged into conversation with a composure that did her credit in the
eyes of her friends, who stood in awe of the young hero, for all were but just
out.

 
          
           
"Mr. Talbot hardly needs an introduction here, for his name is well-known
among us, though this is perhaps his first visit to
England
?" she said, flattering herself that
this artful speech would entrap him into the reply she wanted.

 
          
           
With a slight frown, as if the allusion to his adventure rather annoyed him,
and a smile that puzzled all but Lillian, he answered very simply, "It is
not my first visit to this hospitable island. I was here a few years ago, for a
short time, and left with regret."

 
          
           
"Then you have old friends here?" And Lillian watched him as she
spoke.

 
          
           
"I had. They had doubtless forgotten me now," he said, with a sudden
shadow marring the tranquillity of his face.

 
          
           
"Why doubt them? If they were true friends, they will not forget."

 
          
           
The words were uttered impulsively, almost warmly, but Talbot made no response,
except a polite inclination and an abrupt change in the conversation.

 
          
           
"That remains to be proved. Do you sing, Miss Trevlyn?"

 
          
           
"A little."
And Lillian's tone was both cold
and proud.

 
          
           
"A great deal, and very charmingly," added Maud, who took pride in her
friend's gifts both of voice and beauty. "Come, dear, there are so few of
us you will sing, I know. Mamma desired me to ask you when Edith had
done."

 
          
           
To her surprise Lillian complied, and allowed Talbot to lead her to the
instrument. Still hoping to win some sign of recognition from him, the girl
chose an air he taught her and sang it with a spirit and skill that surprised
the listeners who possessed no key to her mood. At the last verse her voice
suddenly faltered, but Talbot took up the song and carried her safely through
it with his well-tuned voice.

 
          
           
"You know the air then?" she said in a low tone, as a hum of
commendation followed the music.