The Fatal Glove Part 15

But to profess love for him all the while she was planning to elope with another man, was too much! His heart hardened toward her.

If there had been, in reality, as he had at first supposed, any misunderstanding between him and her, and she had gone alone, he would have followed her to the ends of the earth, and have had everything made clear. But as it was now, he would not pursue her an inch. Let her go!

False and perfidious! Why should her flight ever trouble him?

But though he tried to believe her worthy of all scorn and contempt, his heart was still very tender of her. He kissed the sweet face of the picture he had worn so long in his bosom, before he locked it away from his sight, and dropped some tears, that were no dishonor to his manhood, over the half dozen elegant little trifles she had given him, before he committed them to the flames.

There was a nine days' wonder over Miss Harrison's sudden exodus. But her aunt was a discreet woman, and it was generally understood that Margie had taken advantage of the pause in the fashionable season to visit some distant relatives, and if ever any one coupled her flight and the departure of Castrani together, it was not made the subject of remark.

Alexandrine kept what she knew to herself, and of course Archer Trevlyn did not proclaim his own desertion.

For a week, nearly, he managed to keep about, and at the end of that time he called at Mrs. Lee's. He wanted to question Alexandrine a little further. The idea possessed him that in some way she might be cognizant of Margie's destination. And though he had given the girl up, he longed desperately to know if she were happy. He had felt strangely giddy all day, and the heat of Mrs. Lee's parlors operated unfavorably upon him. He was sitting on a sofa conversing with that lady and her daughter, when suddenly he put his hand to his forehead, and sank back, pale and speechless.

In the wildest alarm, they called a physician, who put him to bed, and enjoined the severest quiet. Mr. Trevlyn, he said, had received a severe shock to his nervous system, and there was imminent danger of congestive fever of the brain.

His fears were verified. Archer did not rally, and on the second day he was delirious. Then the womanly nature of Alexandrine Lee came out and a.s.serted itself. She banished all attendants from the sick room, and took sole charge herself of the sufferer. Not even her mother would she allow to take her place. When tempted by intense weariness to resign her post, she would take _that stained glove_ from her bosom, and the sight of it would banish all thought of admitting a stranger.

"No," she said to herself, "people in delirium speak of their most cherished secrets and he shall not criminate himself. It he did that terrible deed, only I of all the world can bring a shadow of suspicion against him, and the secret shall never be revealed to any other."

So she sat the long days and longer nights away, by the side of this man she loved so hopelessly, bathing his fevered brow, holding his parched hand, and lingering fondly over the flushed, unconscious face.

He sank lower and lower day by day--so very low that the physician said he could do no more. He must leave the case. There was nothing for it but to wait with patience the workings of nature.

At last, the day came when the ravings of delirium subsided and a deadly stupor intervened. It was the crisis of the disease. The sundown would decide, Dr. Grayson said; he would be better, or death would ensue.

Alexandrine heard his opinion in stony silence. She sat by the bed's-head now, calm and silent; her powers of self-control were infinite. Her mother came in to watch for the change, as did several of Archer's friends, heretofore excluded. She was not afraid for them to come; there was no danger of Mr. Trevlyn criminating himself now. He had not spoken or moved for twelve hours.

The time pa.s.sed slowly. The sun crept down the west. The ticking of the watch on the stand was all that broke the silence of the room. The last sun ray departed--the west flamed with gold and crimson, and the amber light flushed with the hue of health the white face on the pillow.

Alexandrine thought she saw a change other than that the sunset light brought, and bent over him.

His eyes unclosed--he looked away from her to the vase of early spring flowers on the centre-table. His lips moved--she caught the whispered word with a fierce pang at the heart:

"Margie!"

The physician stepped forward, and sought the fluttering pulse. His face told his decision before his lips did.

"The crisis is pa.s.sed. He will live."

Yes, he would live. The suspense was over. Alexandrine's labors were shared now, and Archer did not know how devotedly he had been tended--how he owed his very existence to her.

He mended slowly, but by the middle of May he was able to go out. Of course he was very grateful to the Lees, and their house was almost the only one he visited. Alexandrine was fitful and moody. Sometimes she received him with the greatest warmth, and then she would be cold and distant. She puzzled Archer strangely. He wanted to be friends with her.

He felt that he owed her an immense debt of grat.i.tude, and he desired to treat her as he would a dear sister.

Perhaps it was because time hung so heavily on his hands that Trevlyn went so frequently to Mrs. Lee's. Certainly he did not go to visit Alexandrine. We all know how the habit of visiting certain places grows upon us, without any particular cause, until we feel the necessity of going through with the regular routine every day. He was to blame for following up this acquaintance so closely, but he did it without any wrong intention. He never thought it possible that any one should dream of his being in love with Alexandrine.

But the world talked. They said it was a very pretty romance; Mr. Trevlyn had been deserted by his lady-love, had fallen ill on account of it, and been nursed by one whom of course he would marry. Indeed, they thought him in duty bound to do so. In what other way could he manifest his grat.i.tude?

Vague whispers of this reached Trevlyn's ear, but he gave them at first little heed. He should never marry, he said; it was sinful to wed without love. But as he saw Alexandrine's pale face and strangely distraught manner day by day, he came to feel as if he had in some way wronged her though how he did not exactly understand.

One day he entered the sitting-room of Mrs. Lee with the freedom of a privileged visitor, without rapping, and found Alexandrine in tears. He would have retreated, but she had already seen him, and he felt that it would be better to remain. He spoke to her kindly.

"I trust nothing has occured to distress you?"

She looked at him almost defiantly.

"Leave me!" she said, impetuously; "you, of all others, have no right to question me!"

"Pardon me" he exclaimed, alarmed by her strange emotion, "and why not _I_ question you?"

"Because you have caused me misery enough already--"

She stopped suddenly, and rising, was about to leave the room. He took her hand, and closed the door she had opened, leading her to a seat.

"My dear Miss Lee, I do not comprehend you. Explain. If I have ever injured you in any way, it has been the very thing farthest removed from my intentions. Will you not give me a chance to defend myself?"

She blushed painfully; her embarra.s.sment disturbed him, for he was generous to all, and he really felt very kindly toward her.

"I cannot explain," she said, in a subdued voice. "I am sorry you came just now. But these slanders anger me, as well as wound my feelings."

"What slanders, Miss Lee?"

Her color grew deeper. Animated by some sudden resolve, she lifted her head proudly.

"I will tell you. Remember that you sought the information. Your coming here has been made the subject of remark, and I have been accused of having schemed to draw you here. You know if it be true."

His face flushed slowly. He recalled the silly stories that had some time before reached his ears. And because of them she had suffered! This woman whose unremitting care had saved his life! How thoughtless and cruel he had been! He was a man of honor; if any woman's reputation had been injured through his means, there was but one course for him to pursue.

He must make reparation. And how? For a moment his head whirled, but glancing at the pale, distressed face before him, he made his decision.

"Alexandrine," he said, quietly, "you know just what my course has been.

You know my lowly origin--you know how life has cheated me of happiness.

You know how dear Margie Harrison was to me, and how I lost her. I loved her with my whole soul--she will be the one love of my life time. I shall never love another woman as I loved her. But if my name, and the position I can give my wife, will be pleasant to you, then I ask you to accept them, as some slight recompense for what I have made you suffer. If you can be satisfied with the sincere respect and friendship I feel for you, then I offer myself to you. You deserve my heart, but I have none to give to any one. I have buried it so deep that it will never know a resurrection."

She shuddered and grew pale. To one of her pa.s.sionate nature--loving him as she did--it was but a sorry wooing. His love she could never have. But if she married him, she should be always near him; sometimes he would hold her hands in his, and call her, as he did now, Alexandrine. Her apparent struggle with herself pained him. Perhaps he guessed something of its cause. He put his arm around her waist.

"My child," he said, kindly, "do you love me? Do you indeed care for me?

Cold and indifferent as I have been? Tell me truly, Alexandrine?"

She did tell him truly; something within urged her to let him see her heart as it was. For a moment she put aside all her pride.

"I do love you," she said, "G.o.d only knows how dearly!"

He looked at her with gentle, pitying eyes, but he did not touch the red lips so near his own. He could not be a hypocrite.

"I will be good to you, Alexandrine. G.o.d helping me, you shall never have cause for complaint. I will make your life as happy as I can. I will give you all that my life's shipwreck spared me. Will that content you? Will you be my wife?"

Still she did not reply.

"Are you afraid to risk it?" he asked, almost sadly.

"No, I am not afraid! I will risk everything!" she answered.