Sharing Her Crime Part 48

"Whew!--caught already! There's love at first sight for you."

"Gipsy, who is she--that vision of light--my life-dream--that I have found at last?"

"Then you don't know her? Bless your dear, innocent heart! that's Celeste--your 'Star of the Valley,' you know!"

"Yes, yes! I recognize her now--my Star of the Valley, rightly named.

Would she _were_ mine!" he added, in a lower tone.

"Shall I present you?"

"Does she know I am here?"

"No; I didn't tell her a word about it."

"Then leave me. I will present myself."

"All right; that'll save me some trouble; and I hear somebody over there singing out for Mrs. Wiseman. So _au revoir_, and Cupid be with you!"

And, laughingly, Gipsy glided away, and Louis went up and stood before Celeste.

She looked up with a start, to find the handsomest man she had ever seen in her life standing before her, gazing upon her with such a look of intense admiration in his deep, dark eyes, that the blood rushed to her cheek, and the white lids dropped over the shrinking blue eyes. Another moment, and both her hands were clasped in his; while he cried, in a voice that was low, but full of pa.s.sion:

"Celeste! Celeste! little sister!--do you not know me?"

"Louis!" broke from her lips, in a wild exclamation of joy.

"Yes, sweet sister, your boy-friend, Louis, home again."

"Oh, Louis, I am _so_ glad!" she said, lifting her cloudless blue eyes to his, radiant with delight.

"Then you have not forgotten me? I feared you had," he said, bending over her, and holding fast the little hand that lay imprisoned in his.

"Forget you!--oh, no," she said, her heart fluttering wildly that moment against a little golden cross--_his_ parting gift, which had lain on her bosom all those years.

There was a look of eager delight on his face at her words. She saw it, and grew embarra.s.sed. Withdrawing her hand from his, she said, in a more composed voice:

"When did you arrive?"

"About a week ago. I would have gone to see you, but the weather was so disagreeable," he replied, with a pang of regret and remorse for his neglect.

"Yes, so it was," said Celeste, sincerely; for, having no morbid self-love to be wounded, his excuse seemed the most natural thing in the world.

"And how is my old friend, Miss Hagar?" he asked, drawing her arm within his, and leading her toward the conservatory, now almost deserted.

"Oh, quite well. She will be delighted to see you."

"May I go and see her to-morrow, sweet Celeste?"

"Certainly you may. We will _both_ be very glad to see you," answered Celeste, delightedly.

"She is certainly a paragon of simplicity. No woman of the world would say that," thought Louis, as he glanced at her eager, happy face.

An exclamation from Celeste attracted his attention. He looked up. Right before him stood Minnette, with her glittering black eyes fixed upon them with a look so fierce, so flamingly jealous, that he started back.

"Why, Minnette, what is the matter? Are you ill?" asked Celeste, in alarm.

She would have turned away without answering; but the dark eye of Louis was upon her, and she replied, coldly:

"I am perfectly well. Excuse me; I fear I have interrupted a pleasant _tete-a-tete_."

And, with one fierce, scorching glance at Celeste, she turned, and hurried away.

Celeste shuddered; something in the dark, pa.s.sionate face of Minnette frightened her. Her companion perceived it--well he understood the cause; and with matchless tact he drew her mind from the subject to fix it on himself.

During the evening he devoted himself a.s.siduously to Celeste. With her he danced; on his arm she leaned in the promenade; by his side she sat at table. Standing alone and neglected by herself, Minnette saw it all; and, had looks power to kill, those flaming glances of fire would have stricken her rival dead.

It was near morning when the party broke up. Celeste--who always shared Gipsy's room when at the Hall--sought her couch, and soon closed her weary blue eyes in blissful slumbers.

That night, in the dreams of Louis, the dark, resplendent face of Minnette was forgotten for a white-robed vision with a haunting pair of blue eyes. And Minnette--in the calm light of the stars, she trod up and down her apartment until morning broke over the hill-tops, with a wild anguish at her heart she had never before known.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"THE OLD, OLD STORY."

"I have loved thee, thou gentlest, from a child, And borne thine image with me o'er the sea-- Thy soft voice in my soul! Speak! oh, yet live for me!"

--HEMANS.

A gay party gathered around the breakfast-table at Sunset Hall the next morning.

There was Mrs. Oranmore--fair, fragile, but still pretty; then Mrs.

Gower, over-shadowing the rest with her large proportions until they all shrank into skeletons beside her, with the exception of the squire, who was in a state of roaring good humor. There was Mrs. Doctor Nicholas Wiseman--our own little Gipsy--as usual, all life, bustle and gayety, keeping up a constant fire of repartee--laughing and chatting unceasingly, poor little elf! to drown thought.

Then there was Louis--gay, gallant and handsome--setting himself and everybody else at ease by his stately courtesy and polished manners. By his side sat our favorite Celeste, fair and fresh, and bright as a rosebud, smiling and blushing at the compliments showered upon her. And last, there sat Minnette, pale, and cold, and silent, with the long, black lashes falling over her eyes to hide the dusky fire that filled them.

"I wish you would stay all day with us, Celeste," said Mrs. Oranmore. "I always feel twice as well when I can look upon your bright face. It seems to me you must have drank at the fountain of beauty and youth."

"In that I agree with you, madam," said Louis.

Minnette bit her lip till the blood started.

"Oh! I really cannot stay, Mrs. Oranmore," said Celeste, blushing vividly. "Miss Hagar is always very lonely during my absence; and besides----"

"You are engaged to make gowns and nightcaps for all the old women of the parish! I know all about it," broke in Gipsy. "Formerly _I_ used to be prime favorite in St. Mark's; but since our return from school I am thrown aside like an old shoe, to make room for your ladyship. I'll leave it to the world in general if I wasn't quoted as an oracle on every occasion. There wasn't a baby spanked, nor an old dress turned upside down, but I was consulted about it. Now, just look at the difference; it's Miss Celeste here, and Miss Celeste there, and Miss Celeste everywhere; while I'm nothing but a poor, dethroned, misfortunate little wretch! I won't put up with it--I just won't. I'll leave it to my daughter-in-law over there, if it isn't unbearable."

"Ha, ha, ha! What do you say, Miss Wiseman?" said the squire, laughing.