The Missing Bride Part 46

"Nothing."

"'Nothing?' What do you think of my explanation?"

"I think nothing. My mind is in an agony of doubt and conjecture. I must be governed by stern facts--not by my own prepossessions. I must act upon the evidences in my possession--not upon your explanation of them,"

said Miriam, distractedly, as she arose to leave the room.

"And you will denounce me, Miriam?"

"It is my insupportable duty! it is my fate! my doom! for it will kill me!"

"Yet you will do it!"

"I will."

"Yet turn, dear Miriam! Look on me once more! take my hand! since you act from necessity, do nothing from anger--turn and take my hand."

She turned and stood--such a picture of tearless agony! She met his gentle, compa.s.sionate glance--it melted--it subdued her.

"Oh, would Heaven that I might die, rather than do this thing! Would Heaven I might die! for my heart turns to you; it turns, and I love you so--oh! I love you so! never, never so much as now! my brother! my brother!" and she sunk down and seized his hands and wept over them.

"What, Miriam! do you love me, believing me to be guilty?"

"To have been guilty--not to be guilty--you have suffered remorse--you have repented, these many long and wretched years. Oh! surely repentance washes out guilt!"

"And you can now caress and weep over my hands, believing them to have been crimsoned with the life-stream of your first and best friend?"

"Yes! yes! yes! yes! Oh! would these tears, my very heart sobs forth, might wash them pure again! Yes! yes! whether you be guilty or not, my brother! the more I listen to my heart, the more I love you, and I cannot help it!"

"It is because your heart is so much wiser than your head, dear Miriam!

Your heart divines the guiltlessness that your reason refuses to credit!

Do what you feel that you must, dear Miriam--but, in the meantime, let us still be brother and sister--embrace me once more."

With anguish bordering on insanity, she threw herself into his arms for a moment--was pressed to his heart, and then breaking away, she escaped from the room to her own chamber. And there, with her half-crazed brain and breaking heart--like one acting or forced to act in a ghastly dream, she began to arrange her evidence--collect the letters, the list of witnesses and all, preparatory to setting forth upon her fatal mission in the morning.

With the earliest dawn of morning, Miriam left her room. In pa.s.sing the door of Mr. Willc.o.xen's chamber, she suddenly stopped--a spasm seized her heart, and convulsed her features--she clasped her hands to pray, then, as if there were wild mockery in the thought, flung them fiercely apart, and hurried on her way. She felt that she was leaving the house never to return; she thought that she should depart without encountering any of its inmates. She was surprised, therefore, to meet Paul in the front pa.s.sage. He came up and intercepted her:

"Where are you going so early, Miriam?"

"To Colonel Thornton's."

"What? Before breakfast?"

"Yes."

He took both of her hands, and looked into her face--her pallid face--with all the color concentrated in a dark crimson spot upon either cheek--with all the life burning deep down in the contracted pupils of the eyes.

"Miriam, you are not well--come, go into the parlor," he said, and attempted to draw her toward the door.

"No, Paul, no! I must go out," she said, resisting his efforts.

"But why?"

"What is it to you? Let me go."

"It is everything to me, Miriam, because I suspect your errand. Come into the parlor. This madness must not go on."

"Well, perhaps I am mad, and my words and acts may go for nothing. I hope it may be so."

"Miriam, I must talk with you--not here--for we are liable to be interrupted every instant. Come into the parlor, at least for a few moments."

She no longer resisted that slight plea, but suffered him to lead her in. He gave her a seat, and took one beside her, and took her hand in his, and began to urge her to give up her fatal purpose. He appealed to her, through reason, through religion, through all the strongest pa.s.sions and affections of her soul--through her devotion to her guardian--through the grat.i.tude she owed him--through their mutual love, that must be sacrificed, if her insane purpose should be carried out. To all this she answered:

"I think of nothing concerning myself, Paul--I think only of him; there is the anguish."

"You are insane, Miriam; yet, crazy as you are, you may do a great deal of harm--much to Thurston, but much more to yourself. It is not probable that the evidence you think you have will be considered by any magistrate of sufficient importance to be acted upon against a man of Mr. Willc.o.xen's life and character."

"Heaven grant that such may be the case."

"Attend! collect your thoughts--the evidence you produce will probably be considered unimportant and quite unworthy of attention; but what will be thought of you who volunteer to offer it?"

"I had not reflected upon that--and now you mention it, I do not care."

"And if, on the other hand, the testimony which you have to offer be considered ground for indictment, and Thurston is brought to trial, and acquitted, as he surely would be--"

"Ay! Heaven send it!"

"And the whole affair blown all over the country--how would you appear?"

"I know not, and care not, so he is cleared; Heaven grant I may be the only sufferer! I am willing to take the infamy."

"You would be held up before the world as an ingrate, a domestic traitress, and unnatural monster. You would be hated of all--your name and history become a tradition of almost impossible wickedness."

"Ha! why, do you think that in such an hour as this I care for myself?

No, no! no, no! Heaven grant that it may be as you say--that my brother be acquitted, and I only may suffer! I am willing to suffer shame and death for him whom I denounce! Let me go, Paul; I have lost too much time here."

"Will nothing induce you to abandon this wicked purpose?"

"Nothing on earth, Paul!"

"Nothing?"

"No! so help me Heaven! Give way--let me go, Paul."

"You must not go, Miriam."

"I must and will--and that directly. Stand aside."

"Then you shall not go."