Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 14 (35 page)

 
          
           
"Oh, Lillian, where shall we go? This is no longer our home, but who will
receive us now?" cried Lady Trevlyn, in a tone of despair, for her spirit
was utterly broken by the thought of the shame and sorrow in store for this
beloved and innocent child.

 
          
           
"I will." And Paul's face shone with a love and loyalty they could
not doubt. "My lady, you gave me a home when I was homeless; now let me
pay my debt. Lillian, I have loved you from the time when, a romantic boy, I
wore your little picture in my breast, and vowed to win you if I lived. I dared
not speak before, but now, when other hearts may be shut against you, mine
stands wide open to welcome you. Come, both. Let me protect and cherish you,
and so atone for the sorrow I have brought you."

 
          
           
It was impossible to resist the sincere urgency of his voice, the tender
reverence of his manner, as he took the two forlorn yet innocent creatures into
the shelter of his strength and love. They clung to him instinctively, feeling
that there still remained to them one staunch friend whom adversity could not
estrange.

 
          
           
An eloquent silence fell upon the room, broken only by sobs, grateful whispers,
and the voiceless vows that
lovers
plight with eyes,
and hands, and tender lips. Helen was forgotten, till Lillian, whose elastic
spirit threw off sorrow as a flower sheds the rain, looked up to thank Paul,
with smiles as well as tears, and saw the lonely figure in the shadow. Her
attitude was full of pathetic significance; she still stood on the threshold,
for no one had welcomed her, and in the strange room she knew not where to go;
her hands were clasped before her face, as if those sightless eyes had seen the
joy she could not share, and at her feet lay the time-stained paper that gave
her a barren title, but no love. Had Lillian known how sharp a conflict between
passion and pride, jealousy and generosity, was going on in that young heart,
she could not have spoken in a tone of truer pity or sincerer goodwill than that
in which she softly said, "Poor girl! We must not forget her, for, with
all her wealth, she is poor compared to us. We both had one father, and should
love each other in spite of this misfortune. Helen, may I call you
sister?"

 
          
           
"Not yet. Wait till I deserve it."

 
          
           
As if that sweet voice had kindled an answering spark of nobleness in her own
heart, Helen's face changed beautifully, as she tore the paper to shreds,
saying in a glad, impetuous tone, while the white flakes fluttered from her
hands, "I, too, can be generous. I, too, can forgive. I bury the sad past.
See! I yield my claim, I destroy my proofs, I promise eternal silence, and keep
'Paul's cousin' for my only title. Yes, you are happy, for you love one
another!" she cried, with a sudden passion of tears. "Oh, forgive me,
pity me, and take me in, for I am all alone and in the dark!"

 
          
           
There could be but one reply to an appeal like that, and they gave it, as they
welcomed her with words that sealed a household league of mutual secrecy and
sacrifice.

 
          
           
They
were
happy, for the world never
knew the hidden tie that bound them so faithfully together, never learned how
well the old prophecy had been fulfilled, or guessed what a tragedy of life and
death the silver key unlocked.

 
          
"How
goes it, Frank?
Down first, as usual."

 
          
"The
early bird gets the worm, Major."

 
          
"Deuced
ungallant speech, considering that the lovely Octavia is the worm," and
with a significant laugh the major assumed an Englishman's favorite attitude
before the fire.

 
          
His
companion shot a quick glance at him, and an expression of anxiety passed over
his face as he replied, with a well-feigned air of indifference, "You are
altogether too sharp,
Major
. I must be on my guard
while you are in the house.
Any new arrivals?
I
thought I heard a carriage drive up not long ago."

 
          
"It
was General Snowdon and his charming wife. Maurice Treherne came while we were
out, and I've not seen him yet, poor fellow!"

 
          
"Aye,
you may well say that; his is a hard case, if what I heard is true. I'm not
booked up in the matter, and I should be, lest I make some blunder here, so
tell me how things stand, Major. We've a good half hour before dinner. Sir
Jasper is never punctual."

 
          
"Yes,
you've a right to know, if you are going to try your fortune with
Octavia."

 
          
The
major marched through the three drawing rooms to see that no inquisitive
servant was eavesdropping, and, finding all deserted, he resumed his place,
while young Annon lounged on a couch as he listened with intense interest to
the major's story.

 
          
"You
know it was supposed that old Sir Jasper, being a bachelor, would leave his
fortune to his two nephews. But he was an oddity, and as the title
must
go to young Jasper by right, the old man said Maurice should have the money. He
was poor, young Jasper rich, and it seemed but just, though Madame Mère was
very angry when she learned how the will was made."

 
          
"But
Maurice didn't get the fortune. How was that?"

 
          
"There
was some mystery there which I shall discover in time. All went smoothly till
that unlucky yachting trip, when the cousins were wrecked. Maurice saved Jasper's
life, and almost lost his own in so doing. I fancy he wishes he had, rather
than remain the poor cripple he is. Exposure, exertion, and neglect afterward
brought on paralysis of the lower limbs, and there he is—a fine, talented,
spirited fellow tied to that cursed chair like a decrepit old man."

 
          
"How
does he bear it?" asked Annon, as the major shook his gray head, with a
traitorous huskiness in his last words.

 
          
"Like
a philosopher or a hero. He is too proud to show his despair at such a sudden
end to all his hopes, too generous to complain, for Jasper is desperately cut
up about it, and too brave to be daunted by a misfortune which would drive many
a man mad."

 
          
"Is
it true that Sir Jasper, knowing all this, made a new will and left every cent
to his namesake?"

 
          
"Yes,
and there lies the mystery. Not only did he leave it away from poor Maurice,
but so tied it up that Jasper cannot transfer it, and at his death it goes to
Octavia."

 
          
"The
old man must have been demented. What in heaven's name did he mean by leaving
Maurice helpless and penniless after all his devotion to Jasper? Had he done
anything to offend the old party?"

 
          
"No
one knows; Maurice hasn't the least idea of the cause of this sudden whim, and
the old man would give no reason for it. He died soon after, and the instant
Jasper came to the title and estate he brought his cousin home, and treats him
like a brother. Jasper is a noble fellow, with all his faults, and this act of
justice increases my respect for him," said the major heartily.

 
          
"What
will Maurice do, now that he can't enter the army as he intended?" asked
Annon, who now sat erect, so full of interest was he.

 
          
"Marry
Octavia, and come to his own, I hope."

 
          
"An
excellent little arrangement, but Miss Treherne may object," said
 
Annon, rising with sudden kindling of
the eye.

 
          
"I
think not, if no one interferes. Pity, with women, is akin to love, and she
pities her cousin in the tenderest fashion. No sister could be more devoted,
and as Maurice is a handsome, talented fellow, one can easily foresee the end,
if, as I said before, no one interferes to disappoint the poor lad again."

 
          
"You
espouse his cause, I see, and tell me this that I may stand aside. Thanks for
the warning, Major; but as Maurice Treherne is a man of unusual power in many
ways, I think we are equally matched, in spite of his misfortune. Nay, if
anything, he has the advantage of me, for Miss Treherne pities him, and that is
a strong ally for my rival. I'll be as generous as I can, but I'll
not
stand aside and relinquish the woman I love without a trial first."

 
          
With
an air of determination Annon faced the major, whose keen eyes had
 
read the truth which he had but newly
confessed to
himself
. Major
 
Royston smiled as he listened, and said
briefly, as steps approached,
 
"Do your best. Maurice will
win."
 
         
"We
shall see," returned Annon between his teeth.

 
          
Here
their host entered, and the subject of course was dropped. But the major's
words rankled in the young man's mind, and would have been doubly bitter had he
known that their confidential conversation had been overheard. On either side
of the great fireplace was a door leading to a suite of rooms which had been
old Sir Jasper's. These apartments had been given to Maurice Treherne, and he
had just returned from
London
, whither he had been to consult a certain famous physician. Entering
quietly, he had taken possession of his rooms, and having rested and dressed
for dinner, rolled himself into the library, to which led the curtained door on
the right. Sitting idly in his light, wheeled chair, ready to enter when his
cousin appeared, he had heard the chat of Annon and the major. As he listened,
over his usually impassive face passed varying expressions of anger, pain,
bitterness, and defiance, and when the young man uttered his almost fierce
"We shall see," Treherne smiled a scornful smile and clenched his
pale hand with a gesture which proved that a year of suffering had not
conquered the man's spirit, though it had crippled his strong body.

 
          
A
singular face was Maurice Treherne's; well-cut and somewhat haughty features; a
fine brow under the dark locks that carelessly streaked it; and remarkably
piercing eyes. Slight in figure and wasted by pain, he still retained the grace
as native to him as the stern fortitude which enabled him to hide the deep
despair of an ambitious nature from every eye, and bear his affliction with a
cheerful philosophy more pathetic than the most entire abandonment to grief.
Carefully dressed, and with no hint at invalidism but the chair, he bore
himself as easily and calmly as if the doom of lifelong helplessness did not
hang over him. A single motion of the hand sent him rolling noiselessly to the
curtained door, but as he did so, a voice exclaimed behind him, "Wait for
me, cousin." And as he turned, a young girl approached, smiling a glad
welcome as she took his hand, adding in a tone of soft reproach, "Home
again, and not let me know it, till I heard the good news by accident."

 
          
"Was
it good news, Octavia?" and Maurice looked up at the frank face with a new
expression in those penetrating eyes of his. His cousin's open glance never
changed as she stroked the hair off his forehead with the caress one often
gives a child, and answered eagerly, "The best to me; the house is dull
when you are away, for Jasper always becomes absorbed in horses and hounds, and
leaves Mamma and me to mope by ourselves. But tell me, Maurice, what they said
to you, since you would not write."

 
          
"A little hope, with time and patience.
Help me to
wait, dear, help me to wait."

 
          
His
tone was infinitely sad, and as he spoke, he leaned his cheek against the kind
hand he held, as if to find support and comfort there. The girl's face
brightened beautifully, though her eyes filled, for to her alone did he betray
his pain, and in her alone did he seek consolation.

 
          
"I
will, I will with heart and hand! Thank heaven for the hope, and trust me it
shall be fulfilled. You look very tired, Maurice. Why go in to dinner with all
those people? Let me make you cozy here," she added anxiously.

 
          
"Thanks,
I'd rather go in, it does me good; and if I stay away, Jasper feels that he
must stay with me. I dressed in haste, am I right, little nurse?"

 
          
She
gave him a comprehensive glance, daintily settled his cravat, brushed back a
truant lock, and, with a maternal air that was charming, said, "My boy is
always elegant, and I'm proud of him. Now we'll go in." But with her hand
on the curtain she paused, saying quickly, as a voice reached her, "Who is
that?"

 
          
"Frank
Annon. Didn't you know he was coming?" Maurice eyed her keenly.

 
          
"No,
Jasper never told me. Why did he ask him?"

 
          
"To please you."

 
          
"Me!
When he knows I detest the man. No matter, I've got on the color he hates, so
he won't annoy me, and Mrs. Snowdon can amuse herself with him. The general has
come, you know?"

 
          
Treherne
smiled, well pleased, for no sign of maiden shame or pleasure did the girl's
face betray, and as he watched her while she peeped, he thought with
satisfaction, Annon is right,
I
have the advantage, and I'll keep it at
all costs.

 
          
"Here
is Mamma. We must go in," said Octavia, as a stately old lady made her
appearance in the drawing room.

 
          
The
cousins entered together and Annon watched them covertly, while seemingly
intent on paying his respects to Madame Mère, as his hostess was called by her
family.

 
          
"Handsomer
than ever," he muttered, as his eye rested on the blooming girl, looking
more like a rose than ever in the peach-colored silk which he had once
condemned because a rival admired it. She turned to reply to the major, and
Annon glanced at Treherne with an irrepressible frown, for sickness had not
marred the charm of that peculiar face, so colorless and thin that it seemed
cut in marble; but the keen eyes shone with a wonderful brilliancy, and the
whole countenance was alive with a power of intellect and will which made the
observer involuntarily exclaim, "That man must suffer a daily martyrdom,
so crippled and confined; if it last long he will go mad or die."

 
          
"General
and Mrs. Snowden," announced the servant, and a sudden pause ensued as
everyone looked up to greet the newcomers.

 
          
A
feeble, white-haired old man entered, leaning on the arm of an indescribably
beautiful woman. Not thirty yet, tall and nobly molded, with straight black
brows over magnificent eyes; rippling dark hair gathered up in a great knot,
and ornamented with a single band of gold. A sweeping dress of wine-colored
velvet, set off with a dazzling neck and arms decorated like her stately head
with ornaments of Roman gold. At the first glance she seemed a cold, haughty
creature, born to dazzle but not to win. A deeper scrutiny detected lines of
suffering in that lovely face, and behind the veil of reserve, which pride
forced her to wear, appeared the anguish of a strong-willed woman burdened by a
heavy cross. No one would dare express pity or offer sympathy, for her whole
air repelled it, and in her gloomy eyes sat scorn of herself mingled with
defiance of the scorn of others.
A strange, almost
tragical-looking woman, in spite of beauty, grace, and the cold sweetness of
her manner.
A faint smile parted her lips as she greeted those about
her, and as her husband seated himself beside Lady Treherne, she lifted her
head with a long breath, and a singular expression of relief, as if a burden
was removed, and for the time being she was free. Sir Jasper was at her side,
and as she listened, her eye glanced from face to face.