Faithful Margaret Part 22

Some weeks pa.s.sed, the executors professed to be searching for the legal proofs of Colonel Brand's death. Davenport had written to Washington desiring particulars. In reality they were merely amusing their willful ward by these formalities, having not the slightest doubt of the colonel's decease; and impatiently hoping for some change of resolve in Margaret Walsingham.

But that aimless, hopeless period of Margaret's history quickly pa.s.sed away, and it had fitted her well for the strange, pathetic, wondrous end to which she now was fast approaching with reluctant feet.

She sat with Mrs. Gay and the baby in the doctor's cozy parlor, one bl.u.s.tering evening in the end of November. The green curtains were drawn warmly over the misty panes, the little fire flickered cheerily in the bra.s.s-k.n.o.bbed grate, and the baby crowed l.u.s.tily in his languid mother's lap, almost forcing a smile from her dejectedly drooping lips in spite of her chronic melancholy, when the doctor's step was heard on the pa.s.sage, and a shuffling sound, as of another arrival, and the doctor called in a strange voice for his wife.

"Harriet, will you come here?"

She slowly arose and placed the child in Margaret's eager arms, and shaking her head forebodingly, left the room. Margaret was happily unconscious of all save Franky's pretty face.

Presently the lady came back with uplifted eyebrows, and placed some wine upon the side-table, and brought her own vinaigrette and put it beside the decanter.

"The doctor has something to say to you. Miss Walsingham," said she, at last. "I will take Franky up-stairs for awhile, and Dr. Gay says that he is anxious that you should prepare your mind for a very unexpected turn of your affairs."

She took the child and vanished from the room, leaving Margaret gazing after her with a vague feeling of terror.

"What has occurred, I wonder?" thought she. "Something is wrong."

She half rose, intending to seek Dr. Gay, but he appeared at the door, and shutting it close, approached her with a manifest tremor of apprehension.

"My wife has told you that I have something strange to say to you,"

began the little doctor, seizing her hand and pressing it closely. "I would like you to endeavor to form some conception of it before I startle you with it."

She was watching him with a wondering eye. His perturbation, his anxiety, his eagerness amazed her--she had never seen the mild little man so violently agitated.

"I can form no conception of your meaning," said she; "be so kind as to explain it in a word."

"My dear girl, we've made a queer mistake, that's all," faltered he, smoothing her hand anxiously. "Now, do you think over every possibility, and pick out the most unlikely--I don't want to startle you."

"Nothing can startle me now that St. Udo Brand is----"

She stopped abruptly and gazed fixedly in his face where yet lingered the traces of a serious shock; and her great gray eyes grew black as midnight while her cheeks flashed forth a splendid carmine.

"You don't intend to say that he is not dead?" cried she, sharply.

The doctor continued smoothing her hand; she s.n.a.t.c.hed it away and clasped both in an access of emotion.

"Tell me--tell me!" screamed Margaret wildly.

"St. Udo has come back, sure enough," said the doctor, putting his arm about her and trying to soothe her. "St. Udo Brand came home to-day and walked straight into Davenport's office."

Her great eyes drank in the a.s.surance in his face, her parted lips quivered into almost a wild smile of triumph, and she clung to the little doctor, crying out:

"St. Udo is not dead--not dead! Oh, my heart, he is not dead!"

And then she sank on her chair and lifted her sparkling eyes, as it were, to Heaven, and whispered:

"Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! Oh, I can never grieve again."

"Come, that's a right pleasant way of taking it," cried the doctor, quite charmed. "I was so afraid that you would take up the old hatred as soon as he came back to dispute the will with you, especially as he was thought to be so well out of the way."

"Hush," smiled Margaret, with the same glad radiance. "I can think of nothing just now except my grat.i.tude to Providence for giving him back to us instead of branding me with the mark of Cain. Poor, erring, n.o.ble St. Udo! I shall never cross his will again. He shall learn to-night how guiltless Margaret Walsingham was of his disappointment. Now I can sign away the Brand property, although the year is not out, and St. Udo Brand shall have it all."

She rattled on thus like a happy child. Her stern will was melted to tenderness, her timid nature was forgotten in joyful excitement. Had he been the chosen of her heart she could not have welcomed him with wilder rapture than this.

"By the lord Harry! you have a magnanimous soul," exclaimed Dr. Gay, delighted as he watched her. "Who would have expected this happy deliverance out of all our troubles? He can't help loving her in spite of himself," thought the sanguine Gay; "she's so gracious and upright.

She will win his heart, I could bet ten pounds, in a week."

"Now I can hear how this wonderful miracle came to pa.s.s," said she, composing herself presently; "how did he escape, and how was it that the rumor of his death got abroad?"

"It seems that it was all a mistake about his being engaged in the general engagement on the first of September. He was traveling on a secret emba.s.sy from Washington to Virginia, and was set upon by a strong force at midnight. His guard was composed of but twenty men, and they were killed to a man. The colonel was left for dead on the field. In the morning the Southern soldiers came back to strip the dead, and finding some life in this fellow they carried him to Richmond, where his wounds were looked to, and he recovered. He has lain in prison ever since, and was only exchanged three weeks ago; and being disgusted with his adventures, he has come home again to try his luck here."

Margaret could only clasp her hands again and raise her thankful eyes to heaven, while a sweet smile quivered on her lips.

"How does he look?" whispered she, at last; "is he not very weak and ill?"

"Y--es," hesitated Dr. Gay; "he's almost as lank as a grayhound, I must confess, and tolerably bronzed. But he is a fine looking man for all that, Miss Margaret, and you must let old sores drop and be kind to him."

"I will be just to him," said she gleefully.

"Not too generous though, my dear," said Gay, anxiously. "However, Davenport will take care of that. He has your interest very much at heart, although he is so rough-and-tumble in his manners."

She turned away her calm, happy face. His warnings fell on deaf ears, for, as ever, she had chosen her own path and would not depart from it.

"Now," said Gay, "perhaps we had best get through with this affair at once; you have borne it thus far with far more fort.i.tude than I had expected. Will you see the colonel to-night?"

She started, and flashed a quick look in his face.

"Is he here, Dr. Gay?" breathed she, with emotion.

"He came in with me," said the doctor; "He asked for you, and is waiting in the drawing-room."

The thin face of Margaret flushed hotly. One cannot doubt that a flicker of memory's lamp shone out in that moment, revealing the bitter past to her shrinking soul, but she dropped the curtain over that picture quickly, and bade the doctor bring him in.

So Dr. Gay went out with a satisfied smile, and brought the soldier in.

She rose to greet him, tall, majestic as a daughter of the G.o.ds, with her scarlet shawl draping her shoulders regally; and her quivering, spirited countenance seemed to glow with a new and beautiful effulgence, as if the glad soul illuminated each plain feature with rose lights. Her dark-fringed eyelids hid the beaming eyes for a moment of timid hesitancy, and she drooped before the stranger like a conquered empress; and then she flashed a full, sweet face upon him whom she had mourned as dead.

And the gaze grew fixed and troubled, the outstretched hand fell slowly to her side--she stood speechless. How often had her faithful memory held up to her the portrait of St. Udo Brand--grand, bold, fearless as she had beheld him in that hour of his fury; when the white lights of scorn were flashing from his straightly-leveled eyes, and the wrath of a king sat on his regal brow.

How was it that he cringed in the doorway there and with a forced stare met her gaze of bewilderment? Why did his lurid eyeb.a.l.l.s shift and shrink, and grow small and hare-like, when they had ever met hers, with the full glare of an eagle? How had these thin lines of patient waiting, and anxiety, and craft, escaped her intent scrutiny when last she had lifted her outraged eyes to that face.

Was this the hero of her dreams, this evil-faced man who looked at her so insolently?

The roses faded out of her cheeks, the rich light fled from her eyes, her heart swelled wildly in her bosom and then turned to a heavier weight than lead.

She averted a white, cold face from Colonel Brand and sank upon her chair like one whose blood has oozed to the last drop through the secret wound.

"Good heaven! she has fainted!" cried Dr. Gay.