Strange Visitors Part 9

He continued to urge his plea; but seeing I would not yield, his countenance changed. The sweet, seductive smile vanished. He grew white as the moonbeam, and, clenching his hand and setting his teeth, bent over me, whispering huskily:

"Agnes, I shall not step from this room to-night. I have the key. You have promised to be mine. You shall keep that promise. To-night you shall keep that promise!"

If he was pale, I became paler. A cold chill crept over me. But I took my resolution, unyielding as death, not to grant his request.

A chasm seemed to yawn before me. The loneliness and friendlessness of my position were presented to my mind with terrific reality. A deadly swoon-like feeling ensued. To yield in this might seal my fate. I paced the floor rapidly, praying for help.

Help came suddenly. As I pa.s.sed the door of my wardrobe, I remembered that the same key unlocked this and the door of my apartment. I drew it forth, and in the twinkling of an eye I was free.

The cool air from the outside pa.s.sage, and the prospect of liberty, cooled my excited nerves, and revived me for the work I had to accomplish.

"Richard," said I, my hand upon the latch, "you or I must leave."

He made no reply, but violently rising from his chair, grasped something that lay near him, and tearing it to atoms, rushed by me without word or look, and reaching the stairs, hastened out of sight.

Mechanically I sat down, and with sad, straining eyes surveyed the wreck before me. My bridal wreath was shivered into fragments; its white petals, like fruit blossoms caught in an untimely blast, sprinkled the floor; my laces were in shreds like the riven mast of some shipwrecked vessel.

Of course there was no sleep for me that night. When worn out with thinking and weeping, I drew a large easy chair up to the door and sat there as guard, listening, with the hope which moment after moment grew fainter, that he would return and whisper in my willing ear a sweet demand for pardon, some word in extenuation for his unseemly conduct; but he came not.

Toward daybreak, I was aroused from the lethargy into which I had fallen from sheer exhaustion by the sound of excited voices and hurried movements in the room below. As these subsided and the gray morning broke, I was startled by the sound of a horse's hoofs on the graveled walk.

A fearful foreboding possessed me; what could it mean? Somebody was riding away; who was it? Through the gate and down the avenue I heard the galloping steed.

I dragged my nerveless limbs to the window and peered forth. Clear against the horizon, now streaked with pale crimson rays of dawn, rising in bold relief I beheld the receding figure of Richard Bristed.

He was leaving me without word or sign. My head reeled; I grasped the window cas.e.m.e.nt to steady myself, and sank insensible upon the floor.

CHAPTER VI.

I must have remained in this condition some hours, for the sun was high in the heavens when I opened my eyes and became conscious. Where was I?

Not in my own room, surely; the fragrance of exotics did not penetrate my lattice; the simple honeysuckle that twined around my window breathed forth a different perfume from this. My heart gave one glad leap. Oh, it is all a dream! I thought; Richard's galloping down the road, and all the past night's misery is a dream! With this reflection a happy tranquillity was stealing over me, when I heard a well-known voice exclaim:

"Look, Mary, attend her; she has opened her eyes, thank G.o.d."

It was Mr. Bristed's voice, and as he spoke Mary approached me, and bending over, bathed my head with scented water. "Hope you feel better, Miss," said she.

"Have I been ill, Mary? Where am I?"

"In master's library."

Surely it was so. I was lying upon a divan near the conservatory. Alas, I was not dreaming! I sat up and looked drearily around, and as I did so Mr. Bristed drew near with a beautiful lily in his hand, which he offered to me. He inquired kindly after my health and looked pleased when I told him I felt quite strong. Indeed I did feel strong for the moment, and arose determined to leave the room.

"Sit still--where are you going?" he asked anxiously.

"Going to the school-room--going to see Herbert," I replied.

"Herbert," said he, and his countenance darkened; "you cannot see Herbert, he is ill."

Not see Herbert, and he ill? What could be the matter? He was well but yesterday.

Mr. Bristed's strange manner, coupled with Richard's absence and the fearful events of the night, seemed likely to turn my brain.

He saw my startled look of inquiry, and said, "Be quiet awhile; I have something of importance which I will communicate to you by-and-by, when you are composed."

"Mary," he ordered, "ring the bell for breakfast to be sent hither; meanwhile, Miss Reef, while awaiting our coffee, if you will walk with me in the conservatory I will take pleasure in showing you my tropical curiosities."

I followed him languidly with wandering thoughts. Gradually, however, I grew interested and listened with increased attention to his animated description of the homes and haunts of the wonders by which he was surrounded. He had visited many climes, and gathered each strange flower and plant he had seen in its native clime. He became eloquent and genial as he described the strange habits and peculiarities of his floral companions, which he seemed to regard as a species of humanity; to him they were not inanimate existences--creations--but objects endowed with soul and sensation.

While we were thus conversing, Mary announced that breakfast was ready, and I reluctantly accompanied him to the library. He almost compelled me to eat, selecting for me dainty morsels to tempt my appet.i.te.

Mr. Bristed evidently labored under some mental disquiet, which he evinced by undue efforts at cheerfulness.

Breakfast being removed I sought to withdraw from the room, but he requested me to remain, and dismissing Mary, seated himself in an easy chair next the ottoman on which I rested, and warming his hands over the fire, his eyes bent upon the blaze, said, with an abruptness that was natural to him:

"I am not accustomed to concern myself about strangers, Miss Reef, but in you I have felt a peculiar interest since the day we first met. You will remember I warned you then that you were too young for the responsibility which I foresaw awaited you. I feared at that time that Richard, on seeing so bright a flower, would endeavor to s.n.a.t.c.h it from its stem. My fears have been realized; you see I am acquainted with what has taken place, and now the hour has come when you and I must part."

"Oh no," cried I gaspingly, "not yet, not yet."

"Miss Reef," he demanded solemnly, "why will you delay? I understand what you would say; you desire to see Richard again, but that can never be; you have looked your last upon him in this life. I know his magnetic influence over you; once again under that influence you are lost!"

I did not like what he said. He overstepped the bounds of courtesy, I thought. The warning which Richard had given me against him revived in force and I recoiled from him, saying:

"Sir, your brother is my friend; I can listen to nothing in his disfavor."

He sighed, "Ah, Agnes, you are but a child. The sun just rising above yonder horizon must soon be darkened; I see the gathering cloud and would warn you of the approaching storm. Why will you turn from me when I desire to help you?"

His musical voice was so sympathetic that it moved me deeply; but I shook my head and answered pa.s.sionately, "I cannot trust you. You wrong him, and would compel me to wrong him too."

"My child," said he sadly, "I had hoped to have saved you from further anguish, but perhaps it is best that you should know all. Come with me."

He opened the door and led me to a room on the opposite side of the hall.

I knew it to be the room where Herbert slept.

"Let us go in," he whispered.

We entered softly: the apartment was darkened, but a dainty crib which occupied the centre of the floor could be dimly seen. As we stepped in, his nurse, who was bending over the cot, moved with hushed footsteps away to give us room.

There he lay, my dear, sick lamb! I was so glad to be permitted to see him. But the result of no ordinary sickness met my eye.

Great purple rings had settled around his closed eyelids, his lips were blue, his sweet mouth partly opened, he seemed to breathe with difficulty. I could not speak. Mr. Bristed turned down the coverlet from the little shoulders.

"Look, Miss Reef," said he hoa.r.s.ely, his voice quivering with agitation, pointing to some hideous marks on the little sufferer's throat--"those are _his_ finger marks."

I sickened. What crime was this that he hinted at so strangely? But the insinuation was too incredible. The thought that he was working on my credulity exasperated me.