A Whisper In The Dark Part 42

"Voyage! I'm not going abroad," she answered, with well-acted surprise.

"I beg pardon. I fancied it was a party, from something I heard. Your cousin goes alone, then?"

"Alone-unless my husband is persuaded to join him. But that is not probable," and an irrepressible sigh escaped her.

"I hope he is quite recovered from the wounds he received last winter."

As I spoke I fixed my eye on Devon; he did not turn, but I saw his hand close on the meerschaum with such a sudden pressure that the amber mouthpiece snapped.

"Oh, yes; he is entirely himself again, and as devoted to business as ever," answered Mrs. Vaughn, looking from me to her cousin with evident uneasiness.

Mrs. Wayne, with a woman's quick instinct, perceived that something was amiss between us and adroitly changed the conversation. Nothing more was said, but I was satisfied that my suspicions were correct, and not wishing to rouse theirs, I never alluded to the subject, but watched them closely all that week.

They drove, walked, and were much together, and more than once I caught a look, a word, that confirmed my belief in their treachery to the good old man who trusted them.

One evening as I came up the unfrequented path from the beach, I heard Devon pa.s.sionately declaring that he could not leave her, and Mabel tearfully beseeching him to remember the duty she owed her husband.

"By Jove, it's too bad!" I muttered, much excited. "She wants to do right in spite of her love for this man, and he tempts her. She needs a friend to help her, even against her will, and the struggle that is wearing upon her. Mrs. Wayne is a gossip, so it won't do to ask her advice, for the story would be all over town in a day. No; I'll write to the old man, and let him manage the affair as he likes. It's none of my business, of course, and I shall get into trouble, I dare say; but as fate has mixed me up in the matter, I'll do a man's duty to the injured old party. She don't know that Devon is the ruffian who robbed her husband, but I believe he was, for his looks, his occupation, his b.l.o.o.d.y hands, and the coincidence of time and place are all against him. I'll inform Mr. Vaughn that I have a clue to the real offender; I'll get him down here privately, and tell him all."

In a fever of virtuous indignation I hurried to my room, and feeling that no time was to be lost, wrote an urgent letter to Mr. Vaughn, begging him to come down by the late train the next night and I would meet him to impart some most important information concerning the robbery and other matters of vital interest.

After the letter was gone and my ardor had somewhat subsided, I began to doubt the wisdom of my act, and to wish it were not past recall. However, I comforted myself by thinking of the wrong and suffering I hoped to spare the old man by what might seem my officious meddling, and soon worked myself into a state of stern complacency at the important part I was playing in this little drama.

My manner must have been peculiar that evening and the next day, for even Mrs. Vaughn observed it, and usually she took no more notice of me than if I had been a child.

Devon looked worried, and both were evidently preparing to leave, though neither spoke of it.

When evening came I stole away to the station, and was rather alarmed to see Mr. Vaughn alight, followed by a person whom I knew to be a policeman without his badge.

The old gentleman seemed rather excited, and my courage began to fail as the affair approached a climax. Telling him I wished to speak to him in private, the officer was left below, and we went quietly to my room.

There I told him all, and was much amazed at the utter incredulity of the old man. He wouldn't believe a word of it, though I repeated the scene in the Park, the midnight meeting, and showed the little ornament which Devon owned and which proved that he had been abroad that night in a strange dress and with b.l.o.o.d.y hands.

As I repeated, explained, and expostulated, Mr. Vaughn's faith began to waver. His own memory evidently brought up certain inexplicable and unusual events, words, or acts of the young pair and as he recalled them, his face darkened, his manner changed, and doubt slowly began to creep into his unsuspicious mind.

"Will you come with me and repeat this story before them? You accuse them of heinous offenses; they should have the privilege of clearing themselves. This you owe us all, for, having stirred in the affair, you must help to clear it up."

He said this after a long pause, during which he sat with his hands over his pale face, evidently suffering much in even admitting for an hour any doubt of his young wife.

His unbelief rather nettled me, and feeling sure of my facts, I consented, having a private pique against both Devon and Mrs. Vaughn for the supreme indifference with which they treated me, evidently regarding me as a boy.

I led the way to Mabel's apartments, and, finding my tap unanswered, was about to knock louder, when Mr. Vaughn abruptly opened the door and entered.

A feeling of triumph possessed me, for the scene before us confirmed a part of my charge most conclusively.

Mrs. Vaughn sat on the little balcony in the moonlight, and leaning toward her, with both her hands in his, was Devon, saying, in a low, pa.s.sionate tone: "My darling, why pause? The old man's claim can easily be set aside, nay, ought to be, for you love me, and I-"

There he stopped short, sprang to his feet, and stood looking at us in blank surprise.

Mabel hesitated an instant, as if something in our faces daunted her; then came forward with a smile, exclaiming, frankly: "Why, Vaughn, dear, what a surprise you give me!"

"So I see, and I have still other equally unpleasant surprises for you, madame," he answered, coldly, putting out his hand as if to keep her off, as he eyed her with anger, grief and distrust in his sincere old face.

"I don't understand," she faltered, shrinking back with a bewildered air.

"I do, and fancy we have that young gentleman to thank for this unexpected visit," cried Devon, glancing at me with a significant expression.

"You are right. Speak, if you please, sir," and Mr. Vaughn drew me forward with a decided gesture.

It was a hard task, but there was no help for me, and I blundered through it as briefly as possible.

Judge of my chagrin, amazement, and wrath, when, as my tale ended, the young couple broke into a laugh, and seemed overwhelmed with amus.e.m.e.nt instead of shame.

Peal after peal rang through the room, while we stood blankly looking from each other to the merry pair, who vainly tried to speak.

As Mabel dropped exhausted into a seat, Devon wiped the tears from his eyes, and with frequent interruptions of mirth, explained the mystery, at least his part of it.

"My dear sir," he cried, ignoring me, "the night you were attacked I was at the Medical College till late, busy in the dissecting-room. You see, we are forbidden to stay after a certain hour, but sometimes, when the students have an interesting subject, they bribe the janitor not to turn off the gas at the usual time, and then stay and work as long as they like. I did it for the first time that night, and being new to the thing, was a trifle nervous when I found myself alone in the great room at midnight, with six or eight dead bodies laid out around me. I worked away till a groan startled me, and, to my horror, one of the bodies began to move under the sheet. In my alarm I cut my hand, dropped my instruments, and made for the door as a ghastly face looked at me from a distant table.

"At that moment the gas went out, and I bolted down-stairs into the street, forgetting my black linen dissecting-gown, my red hands, and the janitor, who, I afterward discovered, was in the joke, got up by some of my mates. I was half way home before I thought of my suspicious appearance; I stopped a minute in a quiet street, meaning to light my pipe and roll up my gown. Hearing some one approach, I stepped into a doorway to escape observation, and there I met that-person, whom I fancied a policeman."

With a scornful glance at me, he turned his back, and Mabel took up the tale.

"Let me explain the part of the silly mystery which most affects me. Vaughn, dear, we were getting up a little play for your birthday, and farewell party for Val-a French play, in which a young wife is tempted to leave her old husband; but she learns his worth, she truly loves him, and she cannot go. I've fancied now and then that you were a little jealous of Val, dear; that you forgot we were brought up like brother and sister and freely show our affection, never dreaming of harm. The conversation this gentleman overheard was half earnest and half quotations from the play. The scenes he has taken the trouble to watch were rehearsals which we came here to have quietly, out of your way. Oh, my dear, kind husband, don't doubt me, don't believe any slander, foolish officious boys may invent. Forgive my little secret, and take me to your heart again!"

It was impossible to doubt that truthful, earnest, loving face, and Mabel was gathered close in her husband's arms.

Devon turned and looked at me. My pitiable mortification and distress touched his heart. He came to me, and frankly offering his hand, said with a hearty laugh: "My good fellow, I don't bear malice, though, upon my life, you'd got up a nice little tragedy for my benefit. Let me recommend you to curb your romantic tendencies, and busy yourself about something safer and more useful than your neighbors' affairs."

"Well said, Val. It's all right, young man; we'll say no more; and on the whole, I'm not sure I don't thank you for your meddling, since the half hour's heartache you've given me has cured my jealousy forever," said Mr. Vaughn, kindly, as he kissed his young wife.

"You've spoilt my little surprise, but I forgive you, and as your punishment, ask you to come and see the play, in the rehearsals of which you've taken such deep interest," added Mabel, with a half compa.s.sionate, half mirthful glance in her beautiful eyes.

I could only stammer my thanks, regrets, and apologies, and retire as speedily as possible.

"You may dismiss the officer who is waiting to take Val in charge," said Mr. Vaughn, as I bowed myself out, and with the sound of a general burst of merriment ringing in my ears, I rushed away, vowing I'd see my fellowmen to the deuce before I'd meddle in their affairs again.

About the Author.

Louisa May Alcott was born in 1832 to a Concord, Ma.s.sachusetts, family who numbered Ralph Waldo Emerson Susie Mee has edited an anthology of southern women writers called Downhome and published a novel, The Girl Who Loved Elvis, as well as a collection of poetry, The Undertaker's Daughter. Born in Georgia, she currently lives in New York City.