A Daughter Of The Vine Part 22

She invoked the image of her baby, the glory of the few days she had known it. But a bitter tide of resentment overwhelmed the memory of that brief exaltation. If she was to be saved, why had not the baby been spared? Those who shared her secret had attempted to console her by a.s.suring her that its death was a mercy for all concerned. She had not answered them; but her grief was cut with contempt for their lack of vision. The baby might have cost her her social position, but it would have stood between her soul and perdition. It had been taken--by One who was supposed to know the needs of all His creatures. Therefore it was only reasonable to a.s.sume that He wished her to be destroyed.

She thought of nothing else, but cunningly pretended to be absorbed in her books.

There came a night when her nerves shrieked until her brain surged with the din of them, and her hands clutched at the air, her eyes hardened and expanded with greed, her lips were forced apart by her panting breath. She jerked the stopper out of a bottle of cologne and swallowed a quarter of the contents, then flung her wraps about her, stole downstairs and out of the house, found a carriage, and was driven to South Park.

III

Two weeks later she sat huddled over the fire in the library. Her face was yellow; her eyes were sunken and dull; her hands trembled. She looked thirty-five.

In her lap lay a letter from Dudley Thorpe. He and his brother, at the risk of their lives, had got through the lines and reached New York. The excitement, fatigue, and exposure had nearly killed Harold, who was in a hospital in a precarious condition. Thorpe could not leave him. He implored her to come on to New York at once; and he had never written a more tender and pa.s.sionate letter.

Cochrane opened the door, and announced that Dr. Clough had called.

"Tell him to come here," she said.

Dr. Clough wore his usual jaunty air, and he made no comment on her appearance; he had come straight from Miss Shropshire.

"Sit down," said Nina, curtly, interrupting his demonstrations. "You come at the right moment. I was about to send for you."

"My dear cousin Nina! I hope there is no--"

"Let me talk, please. Do you wish to marry me?"

Clough caught his breath. He flushed, despite his nerve. "Of course I do," he stammered. "What a question! Certainly there never was a woman so original. It is like you to settle matters in your own way."

"Don't delude yourself for a moment that I even like you. Of all the men I have ever known, the sort of person I take you to be has my most unmitigated contempt. It is for that reason I marry you. I must marry some one at once to keep myself from ruining the life of Dudley Thorpe.

I choose you, because, in the first place, I am so vile a thing that no punishment is severe enough for me; and, in the second, Fate has acquitted herself so brilliantly in regard to my humble self that I feel a certain satisfaction in giving her all she wants."

"My dear Nina, you are morbid." He spoke pleasantly, but he turned away his eyes.

"Possibly; it would be somewhat remarkable if I were not. Do you still wish to marry me?"

"Certainly. I do not take your rather uncomplimentary utterances seriously. In your present frame of mind--"

"It is the only frame of mind I shall ever be in. You will have an unpleasant domestic life; but you will have all the money you want.

Don't flatter yourself for a moment that you will either control or cure me. You will be no more in my house than a well-paid butler--after my father has been induced to accept you, which will not be in a hurry.

Meanwhile, you will probably beat me: you are quite capable of it; but you may save yourself the exertion."

"I shall not beat you, Nina, dear." He spoke softly, with an a.s.sumption of masculine indulgence; but his small pointed teeth moved suddenly apart.

"You will understand, of course, that this engagement must not get to my father's ears. He would lock me up before he would permit me to marry you. He has all the contempt of the gentleman for the cad, of the real man for the bundle of petty imitations: and you are his pet aversion. On the tenth, he is obliged to go to San Jose to attend an important law-suit. He will be detained not less than three days. We shall marry on the eleventh--at Mrs. Lester's. I shall not tell my mother, for I will not give her the pleasure of conspiring against my father. I suppose that I shall break my father's heart; but I don't know that I care. He might have saved me, if he had been stronger, and I am no longer capable of loving any one--"

"Suppose Mr. Thorpe should come out here after you, anyhow, married or not."

"He will do nothing of the sort. One reason you would be incapable of understanding, should I attempt to explain; the other is, that he will no longer want me after I have been the wife of a person of your sort."

"My word, Nina, you are rather rough on a fellow; but give me a kiss, and I'll overlook it."

She lifted her face, and let him kiss her, then struck him so violent a blow that the little man staggered.

"Now go," she said, "and don't let me see you again until the eleventh.

If you have anything to say, you can write it to Molly Shropshire."

When he had gone, she drew her hand across her lips, then looked closely at it as if expecting to see a stain. Then she shuddered, and huddled closer to the fire, and in a few moments threw Dudley Thorpe's letter on the coals.

IV

"Well, some women _are_ remarkable!" exclaimed Miss Shropshire to her sister, Mrs. Lester. "The idea of her having a wedding dress,--white satin, train, and all. She even fussed over at least twenty pairs of slippers, and I was almost afraid to bring home that bridal veil for fear it wouldn't suit her."

"I suppose she thinks that weddings, white satin ones, at least, only come once in a lifetime." Mrs. Lester was a tired little woman, quite subservient to her strong-minded sister. The wedding was to take place in her back parlour at an hour when Mr. Lester, occupied and unsuspecting, would be away from home. She did not approve of the plot; but her opinion, much less her consent, had not been asked.

"I'd like to thoroughly understand Nina Randolph, just for once," said Miss Shropshire, meditatively. "It would be interesting, to say the least."

The night before the wedding she went into Nina's room, and found her standing before the mirror arrayed in her bridal finery,--veil, gloves, slippers, all. She had regained her natural hues; but her eyes were still sunken, her face pinched and hard. She was almost plain.

"Nina! Why on earth have you put on those things? Don't you know it's bad luck?"

Nina laughed.

Miss Shropshire exclaimed, "_Umburufen!_" and rapped loudly three times on the top of a chair. "There! I hope that will do some good. I know what you are thinking--you are so unlucky, anyhow. But why tempt fate?"

She hesitated a moment. "It is not too late. Put it off for six months, and then see how you feel about it. You are morbid now. You don't know what changes time might--"

"No earthly power can prevent me from marrying Richard Clough to-morrow."

"Very well, I shall stand by you, of course. That goes without saying.

But I believe you are making a terrible mistake. I would rather you married almost any one else. There are several gentlemen that would be ready and willing."

"I don't wish to marry a gentleman."

The next afternoon Nina, Mrs. Lester, and Miss Shropshire were in the back parlour awaiting the arrival of Clough, his best man, and the clergyman, when there was a sudden furious pull at the bell of the front door. Nina sprang to her feet. For the first time in many weeks animation sprang to her eyes.

"It is my father!" she said. "Close the folding-doors. Molly, I rely on you! Do you understand? Send him away, and as quickly as possible. Tell a servant to watch outside, and take the others round the back way."

Before she had finished speaking, Mr. Randolph's voice was heard in the hall, demanding his daughter. The servants had been given orders to deny the fact of Miss Randolph's presence in the house to any one but Dr.

Clough. Nevertheless, Mr. Randolph brushed past the woman that opened the door, and entered the front parlour. Miss Shropshire joined him at once. Every word of the duologue that followed could be heard on the other side of the folding-doors.

"Why, Mr. Randolph!" exclaimed Miss Shropshire, easily. "Why this unexpected honour? I thought you were in San Jose."

"Is my daughter here?" He was evidently much excited, and endeavouring to control himself.