A Speckled Bird Part 35

"Judge Kent, for her sake I would do anything--save dishonor myself."

"Then you have ceased to love her!"

"No; I love her, and I always shall, until she is some other man's wife.

I gave her my whole heart when she was a mere child, and she is still the one woman in all the world who holds it in her dear little hands. To shield her from this terrible sorrow, I have thought you might go abroad at once, and keep American papers out of her reach for a while. Duncan will probably move promptly in exonerating his father's name; there will be, of course, a nine days' sensation, then matters will settle; a later stratum of news will press it out of sight, and Eglah need never know."

"Could not the boy be influenced to sell the papers and drop it?"

"Certainly not by me. Do you think it possible I could insult the dead by helping to undo what I swore to aid his son in accomplishing?"

"But you swore in ignorance of facts learned since."

"No, only in ignorance of the personality of some who contributed to Keith's ruin. I am the most unhappy poor devil on earth, but no honorable alternative is allowed me, and to-night I go on to Duncan and deliver the box. I must meet the vessel which touches at Sydney, Cape Breton, on the 15th, and I have no time to spare. I shall come back this afternoon to see Eglah and say good-bye, and I can only hope that after calm consideration of all the circ.u.mstances embarra.s.sing me, you will not censure me for a deplorable course of action which my sense of honor makes absolutely imperative."

Judge Kent sat facing the Madras drapery towards which Mr. Herriott's back was turned, and at this moment a gla.s.s door leading to the colonnade opened; the draught of air blew the curtain into the library, and the Judge saw his daughter slip quickly from his bedroom. With a vague hope of gaining time, he said unsteadily:

"I am so stunned, I am not myself. That you should sweep me and mine to destruction seems incredible; but, nevertheless, will you stay and dine?"

"No, thank you, Judge Kent. It would be painful for both of us. Later, I must see Eglah once more."

In crucial hours, when some crisis wrecks plans, landmarks, life-long aims, the brain works with preternatural clearness and celerity. Through the torturing ordeal of that half hour Eglah had listened, numb with shame and horror. The world seemed to have dissolved in a night that could know no dawn; yet, groping in this chaos, two desperate resolves nerved her.

She would secure that box of papers, no matter at what cost. Her father should be saved from disgrace, and he should never suspect she knew his guilt. She must see Mr. Herriott before she saw her father. Swiftly she matured her resolution; then an unusual glitter came into her lovely soft eyes, and she sat down between the chestnut trees and waited.

At a quick stride, Mr. Herriott descended the avenue until nearly opposite the seat, and she rose and walked toward him.

Their hands met in a tight, clinging clasp, but for an instant neither spoke. He noted that the blood had ebbed from her lips, and that she was frightfully pale, but the eyes lifted to his glowed unnaturally.

"I intended coming back later, to spend an hour with you and say good-bye, as----"

"Never to say good-bye again! You shall not leave me."

She drew him down to the seat beside her, and he smiled at the imperious tone, so suggestive of her childish days.

"You do not understand conditions, unless--When did you see your father?"

"Not since last night. He went fishing at daylight."

"Then you do not know that I came to bid you farewell before sailing for the Arctic circle?"

"Yes. I have not seen father to-day, but this letter from Mrs. St. Clair arrived by the morning mail. Mr. Herriott, I am the most miserable woman G.o.d ever made, and I want to turn to you now, but I scarcely know just how to do so. Once--that night in Washington--you said you would never change, that you would always love me; but I have no right to expect after years of absence--" She paused and the frozen face crimsoned.

He caught his breath and leaned toward her.

"I love you now as I loved you then. My heart has always belonged to you. If you doubt it, you wrong me."

"Then, Mr. Noel, do not leave me. If you go away now you will break my heart."

He rose and looked down at her, wondering at the desperate appeal in her eyes.

"I do not understand, because I long ago ceased to hope I could ever be essential to your happiness. I am obliged to leave here to-night; but if there is any service I can render before I sail from Sydney, on the 15th, I am sure you know how very gladly I should help you. If, as you say, you wish to turn to me, I beg that you will do so at once. Why are you miserable?"

She covered her face with her hands.

"If you love me, will you abandon this expedition for my sake?"

"I cannot now, it is too late. My word is pledged by cable, and the vessel is on the Atlantic. Eglah, I dare not hope that you have learned to care; I will not delude myself. Don't torture me by vague suggestions that half madden me."

He sat down beside her, painfully perplexed.

Her hands fell into her lap, clutched each other, and when she spoke it was in a shuddering, broken whisper.

"Then, if you must go, take me with you till you sail. We can be married to-night."

For fully a moment his eyes, amazed, incredulous, searched hers; then he surrendered himself to a measureless exultation.

"My darling--my own proud darling!"

He drew her close, and she felt him tremble as she hid her face against his shoulder--felt his lips on her neck, on her bare, quivering hand that he held pressed to his cheek.

"I know it is selfish to permit you to bind yourself to me on the eve of a perilous journey from which I may not return, but after so many long, hopeless years the temptation is more than I can resist. I can have you, my darling, for only a few short days, but the happiness of a lifetime shall glorify them. To-night I must go to Ohio, to close up some business with my ward, Duncan Keith; then on to Greyledge for two days before starting for Cape Breton. Why did you not give me this precious intimation earlier? You have always known what you are to me. Was it the news in Mrs. St. Clair's letter regarding my departure that pleaded for me in your proud, stubborn heart?"

"I never realized until to-day how much I need you. Mr. Noel, this has come upon me so suddenly I am stunned. Give me a little time--till my mind clears. Let us see father at once; there are so many things to be arranged if--if----"

He bent to kiss her, but with one shaking hand she softly turned his face aside.

"Not yet, please--while I am Eglah Kent."

Her arms stole up around his neck and her strained voice broke.

"I am so unhappy; I seem to be in a horrible, strangling dream. Be patient with me. You are the only one in all the world who can comfort me, and I am looking to you now as--I once looked to G.o.d."

Holding her in a close clasp, he felt her quivering from head to foot.

"Sweetheart, don't tremble so. Trust me, darling, and love me, and no home in the wide universe will be so happy and blessed as ours. Ours!

The word holds heaven. Are you cold, that you shiver so constantly? Come into the sunshine."

Pacing up and down the colonnade, Judge Kent watched them approaching.

He looked worn, hunted, and a sickly pallor marked his usually florid face. Before Mr. Herriott could speak, he was startled by a strange hysterical sound from Eglah; not a cry, not a sob. As she looked at her father, her face lighted with a marvellous, yearning tenderness, and she sprang into his extended arms.

"Father, you will love me now! Kiss me, kiss me. Hold me tight--take me back to my place in your heart."

Only he could hear the low ripple of broken words, and his tears dripped on her face as he pressed his lips to hers.

"Herriott, what does it all mean?"

"That I am the happiest, proudest man on earth. Coming here to say good-bye to my sweetheart, I shall carry my wife away with me."