The Shadow of a Sin Part 16

The more she weighed the evidence, the more startled she was to find how strongly circ.u.mstances were against Claude. She must clear him. If he would not speak, she must.

What would it cost her? Ah, Heaven, more than her life--her love! If she went into court to tell the truth, she could never hope to see Adrian again. He who had valued purity, delicacy, refinement and truth so highly--what would he say when he found that she had not only carried on a clandestine correspondence, deceived those with whom she lived, and stolen out to meet her lover, but had eloped with him--had left home, and travelled as far as Leybridge with him, and walked through the fields with him, and then, repenting, had gone back? What would he say when he knew all? She remembered how sternly he had spoken of Lady Wallace--what would he say of her? She was more unfortunate, more disgraced. Her name henceforward would be a.s.sociated with a murder case.

She, a Vaughan, one of the race, as Lady Vaughan had told her that morning, that had never experienced the shadow of disgrace or shame--she who had been, as they believed, so carefully kept from the world, so shielded from all its snares--she to bow those gray heads with sorrow, and slay her love with unmerited shame?

She was as one fastened to a stake; turn which way she would, her torture increased. Could she take advantage of Claude's honorable silence and saving herself, like a coward, let him die? Ah, no, she could not. "Loyal, even unto death," was the motto of her race; she could not do that. If she did--though her secret would be safe, her miserable weakness never be known--she would hate herself, loathe her life, so shamefully laden with secrecy and sin.

The temptation to take advantage of Claude's chivalrous silence lasted only a few moments. She would not have purchased life and love at such a price. She must save him.

What would it cost her? Her love--ah, yes, her love! She would never see Adrian again; he would never speak to one so disgraced. For she did not hide from herself the extent of that disgrace; she who had been reared as a lily in the seclusion of home would become, for a few days at least, the subject of scandal; the name of Hyacinth Vaughan would be lightly spoken by light lips; men would sneer at her, women turn away when her name was mentioned.

"Oh, how bitterly I am punished!" she cried. "What have I done that I must suffer so?"

She knew she must go into court when Claude was tried, and tell her shameful story before the hard-headed men of the world. She knew that her name and what she had to tell would be commented upon by every newspaper in England. After that, there could be no returning home, no love, no marriage, no safe rest in a haven of peace. It would be all at an end. She might lie down and die afterward; the world would all be closed to her.

Only a few hours ago she had lain on that little white bed scarcely able to bear the weight of her own happiness. How long was it since Adrian had asked her to be his wife? The misery, the pain, the anguish of a hundred years seemed to have pa.s.sed over her head since then.

"Oh, if I had but refused to go when Claude asked me!" she cried in a voice of anguish. "If I had only been true to what I knew was right! I am bitterly punished."

Not more bitterly than he was. The thought seemed to strike her suddenly. He had been in prison for over three weeks; he had been charged with the most terrible crime--he whose only fault was that of loving her too well. She must save him.

Then with a sudden thrill of fear she remembered how near the a.s.sizes were--they were to be held on the twenty-third and this was the twentieth. She would have only just time to reach Loadstone. She must say good-by to those who loved her, and had watched over her; she must leave all her love, her hope, her happiness behind, and go forth to save him who was willing to give even his life to save her. She must go. She must find out how she could reach England. The great brooding anguish of despair seemed to have fallen over her; her heart ached until it could ache no more; she wept until she seemed to have no more tears; she appeared to grow insensible to the pain that was wearing her young life away.

"I must go to-morrow night," she said to herself. "I shall see Adrian just once again, and then I must bid him farewell forever. Oh, my love, my love!"

She flung herself upon the floor, and wept until the morning dawned and the summer sun peeped into the room.

CHAPTER XVIII.

She was roused from her heavy trance of exhaustion and grief by a knock at her door. It was one of the housemaids bearing in her hand a bouquet of beautiful flowers--"From Mr. Darcy." The girl looked in wonder at her young lady's pale face and heavy eyes.

"You do not seem well this morning, miss," she said.

"I have not slept," returned Hyacinth.

But the few words put her on her guard. She bathed her face, rearranged her hair, and changed her dress, though the weight of misery lay like a weight of lead upon her. Then Lady Vaughan, thinking that she was tired from the emotion and shock of the previous evening, sent word that Miss Vaughan had better remain in her own room for a few hours. The hapless girl was thankful for the respite.

She looked so terribly ill, so ghastly pale, that, when Pincott brought her breakfast, she started in alarm.

"There is nothing the matter," said Hyacinth, "but that I did not sleep well." Pincott went away only half satisfied.

Hyacinth managed to obtain a railway guide. A train would leave Bergheim at ten that night, and reach Ostend on the following morning before the boat started. She would have time to secure a pa.s.sage and cross. She could take the mail train for Dover, and reach Loadstone so as to be in time for the trial.

At ten that night she must go. She had run away from home once before.

Then she had been blinded, tempted and persuaded--then she had believed herself going straight into the fairyland of love and happiness; but now it was all changed. She was running away once more; but this time she was leaving all the hope, all the happiness of her life behind her.

It was well for her that the dull stupor of exhaustion fell over her, or the pain she was suffering must have killed her. She did not know how the time pa.s.sed. It was like one long, cruel dream of anguish, until the summons came for luncheon. Then she went down stairs. Adrian was not there--that was some consolation. She looked quickly around the room.

"How could I look on his face and live, knowing that I shall see it no more?" she said to herself.

It was like a horrible travesty--the movements of the servants, the changing of the dishes, Lady Vaughan's anxiety about the cold chicken, Sir Arthur's complaint about the wine, while her heart was breaking, and Claude lay in the prison from which she must free him.

Lady Vaughan was very kind to her. She expressed great concern at seeing her look so ill--tried to induce her to eat some grapes--told her that Adrian was coming to dinner, and would bring some friends with him; then said a few words about Claude, pitied his mother, yet blamed her for not bringing him up better, and the ordeal was over.

Hyacinth went away from the dining-room with a faint, low moan.

"How shall I bear it?" she said--"how shall I live through it?"

It was two o'clock then. How were the long hours to be pa.s.sed? How was she to bear the torture of her own thoughts? Whither could she go for refuge? Suddenly it occurred to her that she had no money. How was she to travel in England without some?

She did not give herself time for thought; if she had, her courage would have failed her. She went to Sir Arthur's room and tapped at the door.

The tremulous, feeble voice bade her enter. Sir Arthur was writing some letters. She went up to him.

"Grandpa," she said, "I have no money--and I want some. Will you give me a little, please?"

He looked at her in surprise--she had never made such a request to him before.

"Money, child," he repeated--"of course you shall have some. You want to buy some trinkets--something for Adrian. What shall I give you--ten--twenty pounds?"

"Twenty, if you please."

He drew a small cash-box near to him, and counted twenty bright sovereigns into her hand.

"Five more, for luck!" he said with a smile. "Always come to me when you want money, Hyacinth."

She kissed him--he was so kind, and she had to leave him so soon.

"Good girl," he said. "You will be very happy, Hyacinth. Adrian Darcy is the n.o.blest man in the wide world."

She turned aside with a groan. Alas! Adrian Darcy was to be nothing to her--in this terrible future that was coming he would have no place.

Then she went to her own room, and sat there mute and still. Pincott came to dress her, and the girl went through her toilet mechanically.

She never remembered what dress she wore. The maid asked something about it, and Hyacinth looked up with a vague, dreamy expression.

"It does not matter--anything will do," she said, almost wondering that people could think of such trifles when life and death were in the balance.

"There has been a lover's quarrel," thought Pincott, "and my young lady does not care how she looks."

When the bell rang Hyacinth went down. How she suffered when she looked in her lover's face and listened to his voice, knowing it was for the last time! She did not even hear the name of his friends, when they were introduced to her. She sat wondering whether any one living had ever gone through such torture before--wondering why it did not kill her; and then it seemed to her but two or three minutes before dinner was over.

Mr. and Mrs. Vernon--two of the visitors--suggested that they should go out into the grounds; and Adrian, delighted at the chance of a _tete-a-tete_ with Hyacinth, gladly consented. In after years she liked to recall this last interview.

"Let us walk to the waterfall," said Adrian. "I shall have a photograph taken of it, Cynthy, because it reminds me so much of you."

She said to herself he would not when he knew all--that he would hate it, and would not think of the place. They sat down in the old favorite resort. Suddenly she turned to him, and clasped his hand with one of hers.

"Adrian," she asked, "do you love me very much?"