Infelice Part 73

"Come in."

Standing on the threshold, she merely said:

"Here is a telegraphic despatch, which may require a reply."

"Come in," repeated Mr. Palma.

Advancing, she saw with amazement that he was kneeling close to the couch, with Olga's hand in his, and his bowed head close to her face.

When she reached the lounge she found that Olga was weeping bitterly, while now and then heavy sobs convulsed her feeble frame.

"Mr. Palma, do you want to throw her back into delirium by this cruel excitement? Do go away, and leave us in peace."

"She will feel far happier after a little while, and tears will ease her heart. Olga, you have not yet given me your promise."

"Be patient! Some day you will learn perhaps that though the idol you worshipped so long has fallen from the niche where you set it, even the dust is sacred; and you want no strange touch to defile it. Oh the love, the confidence, the idolatry--I have so lavishly squandered! Because it was wasted, and all--all is lost, can I mourn the less?"

"At least give me your promise to wait two years, to follow my advice, to accede to my plan for your future."

He wiped the tears from her cheek, and after some hesitation she said brokenly:

"How can you care at all what becomes of me? But since you have saved me from Mr. Congreve, and contrived to conceal the traces of my disguise and flight from Albany, I owe you something, owe something to your family pride. I will think over all you wish, and perhaps after a time, I can see things in a different light. Now--all is dark, ruined--utterly----"

She wept pa.s.sionately, hiding her face in her hands; and rising, Mr.

Palma placed some open letters on the chair beside her. He walked to the window, opened and read the telegram, and Regina saw a heavy frown darken his brow. As if pondering the contents, he stood for more than a minute, then went to the door, and said from the threshold:

"The papers, Olga, are intended for no eye but yours. In reviewing the past, judge me leniently, for had you been born my own sister I should have no deeper interest in your welfare. Henceforth try to trust me as your brother, and I will forgive gladly all your unjust bitterness and aspersion."

He disappeared, and almost simultaneously Mrs. Palma came back and kissed her daughter's forehead.

With a low piteous wail, Olga threw her white hands up about her mother's neck, and sobbed:

"Oh, mamma! mamma! take me to your heart! Pity me!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Since the night of Olga's return, Regina had taken her meals in the sick-room, gladly availing herself of any pretext for avoiding the dreadful _tete-a-tete_ breakfasts.

On the morning after the painful interview between Olga and Mr.

Palma, the former desired to remove into her own apartment, and the easy chair in which she sat was wheeled carefully to the hearth in her room.

"Come close to me, dear child."

Olga held her companion for some seconds in a tight embrace, then kissed her cheek and forehead.

"Patient, true little friend; you saved me from destruction. How worn and white you look, and I have robbed you so long of sleep! When I am stronger, I want to talk to you; but to-day I must be alone, must spend it among my dead hopes, sealing the sepulchres. Jean Ingelow tells us of 'a Dead Year' 'cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom;' but I have seven to shroud and bury; and will the day ever dawn when I can truly say:

Silent they rest, in solemn salvatory'?

Go out, dear, into the sunshine; you look so weary. Leave me alone in the cold crypts of memory; you need not be afraid, I have no second vial of poison."

She seemed so hopeless, and her voice was so indescribably mournful, that Regina's eyes filled with tears, but Mrs. Palma just then called her into the hall.

"Erle says you must put on your hat, wrap up closely, and come downstairs. He is waiting to take you to ride."

She had not seen her guardian since he left Olga's sofa the previous day, and answered without reflection.

"Ask him to excuse me. I am not very well, and prefer remaining in my own room."

From the foot of the stairs, Mr. Palma's voice responded:

"Fresh air will benefit you. I insist upon your coming immediately."

She leaned over the railing, and saw him b.u.t.toning his overcoat.

"Please, Mr. Palma, excuse me to-day."

"Pardon me, I cannot. The carriage is waiting."

She was tempted to rebel outright, to absolutely refuse obedience to his authority, which threatened her with the dreaded interview, but a moment's reflection taught her that resistance to his stubborn will was useless, and she went reluctantly downstairs, forgetting her gloves in her trepidation. He handed her into the carriage, took a seat beside her, and directed Farley to drive to Central Park.

The day though cold was very bright, and he partly lowered the silk curtains to shut out the glare of the sun. For a half-hour they rolled along the magnificent Avenue, and only casual observations upon weather, pa.s.sing equipages, and similar trivial topics, afforded Regina time to compose her perturbed thoughts. With his overcoat b.u.t.toned tight across his broad chest, and hat drawn a little low on his brow, Mr. Palma sat, holding his gloved fingers interlaced; and his brilliant eyes rested now and then very searching upon the face at his side, which was almost as white as the snowy fur sack that enveloped her.

"What is the matter with your cheek?" he said at length.

"Why do you ask?" She instantly shielded it with her hand.

"It has a slightly bluish, bruised appearance."

"It is of no consequence, and will soon disappear."

"Olga must indeed have struck you a heavy blow, to leave a mark that lingers so long. She told me how desperately you wrestled to stay her suicidal course, and as a family we owe you much for your firm brave resistance."

"I am sorry she has betrayed what pa.s.sed. I hoped you would never suspect the distressing facts."

"When a girl deliberately defies parental wishes and counsel, and scorns the advice and expostulation of those whom experience has taught something of life and the world, her fate sooner or later is sad as Olga's. A foolish caprice which young ladies invariably denominate 'love,' but which is generally merely flattered vanity, not unfrequently wrecks a woman's entire life; and though Olga will rally after a time, she cannot forget this humiliating episode, which has blighted the brightest epoch of her existence. Her rash, blind obstinacy has cost her very dear. Here, let us go out; I want you to walk awhile."

They had entered the Park, and, ordering the driver to await them at a specified spot, Mr. Palma turned into the Ramble. For some moments they walked in silence, and finally he pointed to a rustic seat somewhat secluded, and beyond the observation of the few persons strolling through the grounds. Regina sat with her m.u.f.f in her lap, and her bare hands nervously toying with her white silk ta.s.sel. Her guardian noticed the tremulousness of her lip, and at that moment the sun, smiting the ring on her finger, kindled the tiny diamonds into a circle of fire. Mr. Palma drew off his gloves, put them in his pocket, and just touched the opal, saying coldly:

"Is that a recent gift from your mother? I never saw you wear it until the night you bathed poor Olga's forehead."

"No, sir."

Involuntarily she laid her palm over the jewels that was beginning to grow odious in her own sight.