The Missing Bride Part 23

"Here she is, mother! Oh! here she is!" cried Miriam, pulling at Marian's dress and drawing her in the house.

"Oh! Marian, how anxious you have made us! Where have you been?" asked Edith, in a tone half of love, half of vexation.

"I have been detained," said Marian, in a low voice.

The cottage room was very inviting. The evening was just chilly enough to make the bright little wood fire agreeable. On the clean hearth before it sat the tea-pot and a covered plate of toast waiting for Marian. And old Jenny got up and sat out a little stand, covered it with a white napkin, and put the tea and toast, with the addition of a piece of cold chicken and a saucer of preserves, upon it. And Marian laid off her straw bonnet and muslin scarf and sat down and tried to eat, for affectionate eyes had already noticed the trouble of her countenance, and were watching her now with anxiety.

"You do not seem to have an appet.i.te, dear; what is the matter?" asked Edith.

"I am not very well," said Marian, rising and leaving the table, and refraining with difficulty from bursting into tears.

"It's dat ar cussed infunnelly party at Lockemup--last Toosday!" said Jenny, as she cleared away the tea service--"a-screwin' up tight in cusseds an' ball-dresses! an' a-dancing all night till broad daylight!

'sides heavin' of ever so much unwholesome 'fectionery trash down her t'roat--de const.i.tution ob de United States hisself couldn't stan' sich!

much less a delicy young gall! I 'vises ov you, honey, to go to bed."

"Indeed, Marian, it was too much for you to lose your rest all night, and then have to get up early to go to school. You should have had a good sleep this morning. And then to be detained so late this evening.

Did you have to keep any of the girls in, or was it a visit from the trustees that detained you?"

"Neither," said Marian, nervously, "but I think I must take Jenny's advice and go to bed."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THAT NIGHT.

From that miserable night, Marian saw no more of Thurston, except occasionally at church, when he came at irregular intervals, and maintained the same coolness and distance of manner toward her, and with matchless self-command, too, since often his heart yearned toward her with almost irresistible force.

Cold and calm as was his exterior, he was suffering not less than Marian; self-tossed with pa.s.sion, the strong currents and counter-currents of his soul whirled as a moral maelstrom, in which both reason and conscience threatened to be engulfed.

And in these mental conflicts judgment and understanding were often obscured and bewildered, and the very boundaries of right and wrong lost.

His appreciation of Marian wavered with his moods.

When very angry he would mentally denounce her as a cold, prudent, calculating woman, who had entrapped him into a secret marriage, and having secured his hand, would now risk nothing for his love, and himself as a weak, fond fool, the tool of the beautiful, proud diplomat, whom it would be justifiable to circ.u.mvent, to defeat, and to humble in some way.

At such times he felt a desire, amounting to a strong temptation, to abduct her--to get her into his power, and make her feel that power. No law could protect her or punish him--for they were married.

But here was the extreme point at which reaction generally commenced, for Thurston could not contemplate himself in that character--playing such a part, for an instant.

And then when a furtive glance would show him Marian's angel face, fairer and paler and more pensive than ever before--a strong counter-current of love and admiration approaching to worship, would set in, and he would look upon her as a fair saint worthy of translation to heaven, and upon himself as a designing but foiled conspirator, scarcely one degree above the most atrocious villain. "Currents and counter-currents" of stormy pa.s.sion, where is the pilot that shall guide the understanding safely through them? It is no wonder, that once in a while, a mind is wrecked.

Marian, sitting in her pew, saw nothing in his face or manner to indicate that inward storm. She only saw the sullen, freezing exterior.

Even in his softened moods of penitence, Thurston dared not seek her society.

For Marian had begun to recover from the first abject prostration of her sorrow, and her fair, resolute brow and sad, firm lips mutely a.s.sured him that she never would consent to be his own until their marriage could be proclaimed.

And he durst not trust himself in her tempting presence, lest there should be a renewal of those humiliating scenes he had endured.

Thus pa.s.sing a greater portion of the summer; during which Thurston gradually dropped off from the church, and from all other haunts where he was likely to encounter Marian, and as gradually began to frequent the Catholic chapel, and to visit Luckenough, and to throw himself as much as possible into the distracting company of the pretty elf Jacquelina. But this--while it threw Dr. Grimshaw almost into frenzy, did not help Thurston to forget the good and beautiful Marian. Indeed, by contrast, it seemed to make her more excellent and lovely.

And thus, while Jacquelina fancied she had a new admirer, Dr. Grimshaw feared that he had a new rival, and the holy fathers hoped they had a new convert--Thurston laughed at the vanity of the elf, the jealousy of the Ogre, and the gullibility of the priests--and sought only escape from the haunting memory of Marian, and found it not. And finally, bored and ennuied beyond endurance, he cast about for a plan by which to hasten his union with Marian. Perhaps it was only that neighborhood she was afraid of, he thought--perhaps in some other place she would be less scrupulous. Satan had no sooner whispered this thought to Thurston's ear than he conceived the design of spending the ensuing autumn in Paris--and of making Marian his companion while there. Fired with this new idea and this new hope, he sat down and wrote her a few lines--without address or signature--as follows:

"Dearest, forgive all the past. I was mad and blind. I have a plan to secure at once our happiness. Meet me in the Mossy dell this evening, and let me explain it at your feet."

Having written this note, Thurston scarcely knew how to get it at once into Marian's hands. To put it into the village post-office was to expose it to the prying eyes of Miss Nancy Skamp. To send it to Old Fields, by a messenger, was still more hazardous. To slip it into Marian's own hand, he would have to wait the whole week until Sunday--and then might not be able to do so un.o.bserved.

Finally, after much thought, he determined, without admitting the elf into his full confidence, to entrust the delivery of the note to Jacquelina.

He therefore copied it into the smallest s.p.a.ce, rolled it up tightly, and took it with him when he went to Luckenough.

He spent the whole afternoon at the mansion house, without having an opportunity to slip it into the hands of Jacquelina.

It is true that Mrs. Waugh was not present, that good woman being in the back parlor, sitting at one end of the sofa and making a pillow of her lap for the commodore's head, which she combed soporifically, while, stretched at full length, he took his afternoon nap. But Mary L'Oiseau was there, quietly knotting a toilet cover, and Professor Grimshaw was there, scowling behind a book that he was pretending to read, and losing no word or look or tone or gesture of Thurston or Jacquelina, who talked and laughed and flirted and jested, as if there was no one else in the world but themselves.

At last a little negro appeared at the door to summon Mrs. L'Oiseau to give out supper, and Mary arose and left the room.

The professor scowled at Jacquelina from the top of his book for a little while, and then, muttering an excuse, got up and went out and left them alone together.

That was a very common trick of the doctor's lately, and no one could imagine why he did it.

"It is a ruse, a trap, the grim idiot! to see what we will say to each other behind his back. Oh, I'd dose him! I just wish Thurston would kiss me! I do so!" thought Jacquelina. "Thurston," and the elf leaned toward her companion, and began to be as bewitching as she knew how.

But Thurston was not thinking of Jacquelina's mischief, though without intending it he played directly into her hands.

Rising he took his hat, and saying that his witching little cousin had beguiled him into breaking one engagement already, advanced to take leave of her.

"Jacquelina." he said, lowering his voice, and slipping the note for Marian into her hand, "may I ask you to deliver this to Miss Mayfield, when no one is by?"

A look of surprise and perplexity, followed by a nod of intelligence, was her answer.

And Thurston, with a grateful smile, raised her hand to his lips, took leave and departed.

"I wonder what it is all about? I could easily untwist and seal it, but I would not do so for a kingdom!" said Jacko to herself as she turned the tiny note about in her fingers.

"Hand me that note, madam!" said Dr. Grimshaw, in curt and husky tones, as, with stern brow, he stood before her.

"No, sir! it was not intended for you," she said, mockingly.

"By the demons, I know that! Hand it here!"

"Don't swear nor get angry! Both are unbecoming professor!" said the elf, with mocking gravity.

"Perdition! will you give it up?" stamped the doctor, in fury.

"'Perdition,' no;" mocked the fairy.