The Bride of the Tomb and Queenie's Part 76

The actress sprang to her feet and confronted the daring intruder.

"Lawrence Ernscliffe!" she gasped.

"Lawrence Ernscliffe!" echoed Sydney, in a voice of horror.

"Yes, Lawrence Ernscliffe," he answered, looking at Queenie.

He seemed to have no eyes for anyone but her, although his second wife stood just at his elbow.

"Why are you here?" demanded the actress, haughtily.

The tall, handsome man looked at her in astonishment.

"Madam, you permitted me to call," he said, "and this is the hour you specified. I knocked, but no one came; then I opened the door and entered."

The pride and anger on the lovely face before him softened strangely.

"That is true, I had quite forgotten it," she said. "But then your rudeness in striking the gla.s.s from my hand--how do you account for that? What did you mean by it?"

Her beautiful eyes were looking straight into his--the dusky, pansy-blue eyes of the lost bride whom he had worshiped so madly.

His reason seemed to reel before that wonderful resemblance, his heart was on fire with the pa.s.sion she roused within him; yet through it all he had a vague feeling that he must shield Sydney, that he must not betray her to the beautiful woman whom she had wronged.

His dark eyes fell before her steady gaze, his cheek reddened, his tongue felt thick when he tried to speak.

Sydney's heart was beating almost to suffocation, while he stood thus hesitating. She knew when he struck the gla.s.s from Queenie's hand that he had witnessed her dastardly crime.

She wondered if his mad pa.s.sion for the beautiful actress would lead him to betray _her_--his wife!

In her terror and desperation she grasped his arm and looked up pleadingly into his face.

Captain Ernscliffe looked down at her--oh! the withering scorn, the just horror of that look.

She shrank back abashed before it, but he slowly shook his head.

She was safe--he could not forget that she bore his name, however unworthily.

"I ask you again, sir," said the actress, in a voice that demanded reply, "why did you strike the gla.s.s from my hand?"

"Madam, I--I--pardon me, I was excited, I knew not what I did!" he stammered, not daring to meet her searching gaze.

Suddenly Queenie uttered a cry of grief and terror. A little pet dog had left his cushion in the corner and lapped up the spilled wine from the floor with its tiny, pointed tongue.

Now, after a few, unsteady motions, and two or three whining moans of pain, it uttered one sharp, despairing yelp, rolled over upon the carpet and expired.

After Queenie's one terrified cry a dead silence reigned throughout the room.

Sydney dropped into a chair, trembling so that she could not stand, and put her hands before her face. Her sin had found her out.

Queenie would certainly revenge herself now by revealing her ident.i.ty.

What mercy could she expect from the sister she had hated and tried to murder?

"I understand your reluctance to explain yourself now, sir," said the voice of the actress, falling on her ears like the knell of doom. "You would shield your wife!"

He did not answer. His head was bowed on his breast, his handsome, high-bred face was pale with emotion. She went on coldly after a moment's pause:

"I thank you, Captain Ernscliffe, for the ready hand that struck the poisoned wine from my lips, although my life is so valueless to me that it was scarcely worth the saving. But now will you withdraw and leave me to deal with this lady?"

Sydney glanced up through the fingers that hid her shamed face. What did Queenie mean to do? Was it possible that she would not reveal her ident.i.ty to her husband?

"Madam," he remonstrated, "you were willing to accord me an interview.

Surely you will not send me away like this. I cannot go until I have told you why I am here!"

The resolution in his voice alarmed her. She stepped back a pace and stood looking at him with parted lips and burning eyes, her face as white as marble against the background of her rich but somber velvet robe, her loosened, golden hair falling around her like a veil of light.

"We--I--that is--you can have nothing to say to me that I wish to hear!"

she panted. "Pray go--let us part as we met--strangers!"

He looked at her with a strange light in his dark eyes, a warm flush creeping into his face.

Sydney watched him with wild, fascinated eyes. What would he say to this speech of the actress?

"We have not met as strangers--we cannot part thus!" he answered firmly.

"Surely my eyes and my heart cannot both deceive me! La Reine Blanche, you are my lost wife, Queenie!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

You might have heard a pin drop in the room, so utter was the silence that followed Captain Ernscliffe's bold declaration.

Sydney remained crouching in her chair, watching the two chief actors in this drama in real life, with wild, fascinated eyes, feeling that her whole future hung trembling in the balance on the answer that must fall from her sister's lips.

Queenie seemed stricken dumb by the words of Captain Ernscliffe. She stared at him speechlessly, her white teeth buried in her crimson lips, her hands clenched tightly together.

"Queenie, you cannot deny it," he went on pa.s.sionately, seeing that she could not, or would not speak. "Although I thought you dead, although the last time I beheld your sweet face it was under the shadow of the coffin-lid, yet I could swear that the lost bride whom I deemed an angel in Heaven, still walks the earth under the name of Reine De Lisle!"

Still she did not answer, still she stood there pale and statue-like, all the life that was left in her seeming concentrated in the burning gaze she fixed upon his face.

He ventured to come a little nearer, he touched the white, jeweled hands that were locked so tightly together. He altogether forgot Sydney crouching silently in the great arm-chair. He took up a long, curling tress of the golden hair and pressed it to his lips.

"My darling!" he cried, "speak to me! Tell me by what strange mystery you were resurrected and restored to my heart! Why have you remained so long away from me?"

The touch of his hands and lips seemed to galvanize her into life. She pushed him away and sprang to Sydney's side.

"Madam," she cried indignantly, "what ails your husband? Is he mad? Why does he claim me as his wife?"