Jessie Graham Part 16

"By the way, Jessie says you know about that unfortunate affair with poor Nellie. Believe me, Walt, I loved that girl, and even now the thought of her takes my breath away; but she was too poor. Isn't it lucky Jessie is rich? You ought to see how delighted my grandmother-elect is with the match. But time hastens, and I must finish. Remember, July 10th, hour 11, from -- Church. Adieu.

"_Bill Bellenger_."

For a time after reading the letter Walter sat powerless to act or think. Then the storm burst upon him with overwhelming fury, and he raved like one bereft of reason. Jessie was lost to him forever, and, what was worse than all, she had proved herself unworthy of esteem by her heartless treachery. How could she so soon forget the little grave on the hillside? How could she plight her faith to one whom, only a few weeks since, she had denounced so strongly? Was there no truth in woman?

Were they all as false as fair? Yes, they were, he said; and he laughed bitterly as he thought how, hereafter, he should hate the entire s.e.x.

Walter was growing desperate, and, in his desperation, he resolved to put the width of the western hemisphere between himself and the fickle Jessie Graham. He could go to California now as well as later, and he determined to start for New York that night. So with a hurried good-by to his family he left them, and scarcely knowing whether he were dead or alive, he took the express for the city.

It was morning when he reached there, and the Wall street thunder had already commenced. His first business was to ascertain that a vessel would sail that day for California,-his next to call on Mr. Graham and make the necessary explanations.

Mr. Graham was not at the office,-he was sick, the clerk said, and as Walter had neither the time nor the inclination to go all the way up-town to find him, he sat down and wrote to him what he would have said.

He was going to California, and the reason why he went Mr. Graham could perhaps divine; if not, Walter would tell him frankly that he could not stay in New York and see a man of William Bellenger's character married to the girl he loved better than he loved his life.

"I understand the business on which I am going thoroughly, I believe,"

he added in conclusion; "but if there is anything more which you wish to say, you can write it by the next steamer, and your directions shall be attended to most strictly."

This letter he left for Mr. Graham, and when the night shadows fell again on Deerwood, where in the large old kitchen the family talked of him, he sat upon the upper deck, listening, with an aching heart, to the surging of the waves, as they dashed against his floating home.

CHAPTER XIII.-EXPLANATIONS.

After Jessie's return to the city, several days had elapsed ere she met with William; and when at last she did, he saw at once that there was a change in her demeanor,-that she was unusually reserved; but this he hoped might arise from the sad scene through which she had recently pa.s.sed, and as he was fast nearing a point when something must be done, he resolved upon a decisive step.

His attentions to Jessie must have prepared her for a proposal, he thought, and as it would be better for him to know his fate at once, so that in case she refused him, he could look elsewhere for aid, he determined to improve the present opportunity, which, so far as outward circ.u.mstances were concerned, seemed propitious.

Mr. Graham was away, and Mrs. Bartow kindly absented herself from the room, as was her custom when William was present. The night was rainy, too, and they would not be liable to interruption. Accordingly when Jessie spoke to him of Nellie's death, and gave him the note which had been entrusted to her, he drew his chair to her side, and, after a few preliminary coughs, plunged at once into business, and made her a formal offer of himself, saying that he knew he was very faulty, but she could mould him as she pleased, and make him a good and useful man.

With a cold, haughty look upon her face, Jessie Graham listened to him until he finished, and then said:

"You astonish me more than I can express, for if you do not respect yourself, I hoped you had too much respect for me to offer me a hand reeking, as it were, with the blood of sweet Nellie Howland. I know it all,-know the lie you imposed upon the poor, weak girl, whose only fault was loving you too well. And now do you think I would marry you? I have never seen the hour when I would have done so,-much less will I do it now. I despise you, William Bellenger,-despise you more than I can tell."

She ceased speaking, but her eyes never for a moment left the white face, which had grown whiter as she proceeded, and which was now almost livid with chagrin, disappointment and rage.

"I have nothing to offer which can extenuate my sin toward Nellie," he answered, at last, "though I did love her,-better than I love you,-but for certain reasons, I preferred that you should be my wife. You refuse me, and I know well to whom I am indebted for the good opinion you are pleased to entertain of me; but I warn you now, fair lady, that my precious cousin is no better than myself."

"Hush!" interrupted Jessie. "You are not to speak of Walter in that way.

Shall I consider our interview at an end?"

She spoke with dignity, and motioned him toward the door.

"Jessie," he stammered, as he started to leave the room, "I'll admit that I'm a wretch, but I trust that you will not think it necessary to repeat this to everybody."

"I have no desire to injure you," she answered, and walking to the window she stood until she heard him leave the house; then her unwonted calmness gave way, and she burst into a flood of tears, sometimes wishing she had spoken more harshly to him, and again regretting that she had been harsh at all.

She might have spared herself this last feeling, for at that moment the man she had discarded was pouring into the ear of Charlotte Reeves words similar to those he had breathed to her not an hour before. And Charlotte, knowing nothing of Nellie,-nothing of Jessie, save that the latter had been a dreaded rival, said _yes_ to him, on condition that her father's consent could be won.

This last was an easy matter; for Mr. Reeves, who scarcely had an ident.i.ty save that connected with his business, answered that in this thing Charlotte would do as she pleased, just as she did in everything else, adding in a kind of absent way:

"I always intended giving her fifty thousand the day she was married, and after that my duty will be done."

William could scarcely refrain from hugging his prospective father-in-law, but he wisely withheld the hug for the daughter, who, while he was closeted with the father, ran with the news to the grandmother.

The next morning, as Jessie sat at her work, she was surprised at a call from Charlotte, who, seating herself upon the sofa began at once to unfold the object of her visit.

"She was engaged, and Jessie could not guess to whom if she guessed a year."

"William Bellenger," Jessie said at once, her lip curling with scorn, and her cheek growing slightly pale.

"You wicked creature," exclaimed Charlotte, jumping up and giving her a squeeze. "What made you think of him? I always supposed he would marry you, and used to be awful jealous. Yes, it's William. He came in last night and as pa chanced to be home in his room, the whole thing was arranged at once. I wanted so badly to wait till fall, and have a grand affair, but William is in such a hurry, and says it will be so much nicer to be a bride and belle, too, at Newport or Nahant, that I gave it up, and we are to be married the 10th of July, and go right off. Won't it be fun? I'm going to employ every dressmaker in the city, that is, every fashionable one. Father gave me a thousand dollars this morning to begin my shopping with," and the thoughtless light-hearted Charlotte clapped her hands and danced around the room in childish delight.

"Shall I tell her? Ought I to tell her?" Jessie thought, looking into the bright face of the young girl.

Then as she remembered how really good-natured William was, and that after all he might make a kind husband, she resolved to throw no cloud over the happiness of her friend, and congratulated her as cordially as it was possible for her to do. But Charlotte detected the absence of something in her manner, and imputing it to a feeling of chagrin at having lost Mr. Bellenger, she soon brought her visit to a close, and hastened home, telling her grandmother that she believed Jessie Graham was terribly disappointed, for she was as white as a ghost, and could scarcely keep from crying.

Meantime William, in a most singular state of mind, tried to play the part of a devoted lover to Charlotte,-avoided an interview with Jessie,-received quite indifferently the congratulations of his friends, and spent the remainder of his time in hating Walter, who, he believed, stood between him and Jessie Graham, just as he was sure he stood between him and his rich grandmother.

"I'll torment him while I can," he thought. "I'll make him think for a time, at least, that Jessie is lost," and sitting down he wrote the carefully-worded letter which had sent Walter so suddenly from home.

"There," said he, as he read it over, "he can infer what he pleases. I don't say it's Jessie I'm going to marry; but he can think so, if he likes, and I don't envy him his cogitations."

William could not have devised a way of wounding Walter more deeply than the letter had wounded him, or of affecting Jessie more sensibly than she was affected, when she heard that Walter had gone to California.

"Not gone!" she cried, when her father brought to her the news. "Not gone, without a word for me. Oh, father, it was cruel! Didn't he leave a message for you?"

"Yes, read it if you choose," and Mr. Graham pa.s.sed to her the letter which had greatly puzzled him.

Was it possible he had been deceived? Was it Charlotte Reeves, and not his daughter, whom Walter Marshall loved? It would seem so, and yet he could not be so mistaken; Walter must have been misinformed as to the bride. Jessie, perhaps, could explain; and he stood watching her face as she read the letter.

At first it turned very red, then spotted, and then, as the horrible truth burst upon her, it became as white as marble, and stretching out her arms she moaned:

"Oh, father, I never thought that he loved Charlotte Reeves. I most wish I were dead;" and with another cry, Jessie lay sobbing in her father's arms. Very gently he tried to soothe her; and then, when she was better, laid her upon the sofa, and kneeling beside her, kissed away the tears which rolled down her cheeks so fast.

She had betrayed her secret, or rather it had been betrayed to herself, and winding her arms around her father's neck, she whispered:

"I didn't know that before I,-that I,-oh, father,-I guess I do love Walter better than I supposed; and I guess I thought that he loved me.

You won't tell anybody, will you?" and she laid her burning cheek against his own.

"Jessie," he said, "I have known for a long time that you loved Walter Marshall. Once I believed that he loved you. I believe so still. There is surely some mistake. I will inquire of William."

Mr. Graham did not know why he should seek for an explanation from William Bellenger, but he could think of nothing else, and after Jessie was somewhat composed, he sought an interview with that young man, asking him if he knew of any reason why his cousin should start so suddenly for California, without a word from any one.

"I should suppose he might have waited until after your marriage with _Miss Reeves_?" and Mr. Graham fixed his eyes upon Will, who colored slightly as he replied:

"Oh, yes, I wrote to him about it, and invited him to be present."

Mr. Graham was puzzled. If William wrote as he said, Walter could not have been deceived, and he wended his way homeward, quite uncertain how to act. At last, he decided that as he must write to Walter by the next steamer, he would take particular pains to speak of Charlotte as having been the bride, and this might, perhaps, bring Walter back sooner than was expected. Still he would not tell this to Jessie, lest she should be disappointed, and day after day her face grew less merry than of old, until at last the kind-hearted Charlotte, who watched her narrowly, threw her arms around her neck, and said to her, entreatingly: