Was It Right to Forgive? Part 18

For Harry had spoken freely, as soon as he found Yanna willing to listen. All his burdens and temptations, his remorses, his resolutions, and his inevitable slips again and again into sensual mire were confessed; and in spite of all, he had been made to feel that life still had the l.u.s.tre of divine dignity around it, and of divine duty before it. He left Adriana full of hope, and she stood a minute at the door to listen to the clear ring of his steps on the pavement; for steps are words, and Harry's steps were those of a man who has been turned into the right road, confident and purposeful.

Then she ran lightly to her own room. She stood quiet there, with clasped hands and radiant face, and told herself in so many audible words: "He loves me yet! He loves me yet! Oh, fluttering heart, be still! Be still!" And constantly, as she bathed her face and dressed her hair and put on her evening gown, she chided herself as tenderly as a mother the restless babe she loves, saying softly, "Be still! Be still!" And she was lovelier that night than she had been for a long time, for since her parting with Harry at Woodsome, her life had been out of harmony; but now heart and life were in tune, and she could live melodious days once more.

After leaving Adriana, Harry walked rapidly towards his home. He did not think of calling a cab; there was a necessity for motion in his condition, and walking is the natural tranquillizer of mental agitation. He had not gone far before he met Antony Van Hoosen. Now, the young men were still warm friends, though the exigencies of society had kept them more apart than at first seemed necessary. But Harry affected a set of young men outside of Antony's toleration; and their social engagements very rarely brought them together. At this hour, however, Harry was particularly delighted to meet Antony, and as they were in the neighborhood of a good hotel, he urged him to enter.

"Let us dine together, Antony," he said. "I want to tell you something particularly good--for me. I have just left Yanna."

Antony heard him with singular indifference. "Harry," he answered, "I will go with you, for indeed I have something particular to tell you.

I wish I could say it was good, but it is not."

"Then do not tell me anything about it, Antony. I am so happy to-night."

"But I ought to tell you. It relates to your sister."

Harry was instantly speechless.

"Will you come back with me to Miss Van Hoosen's? We can reach my room without disturbing the ladies."

"No. If you are not cold, we will walk here. What have you to tell me about Rose?"

"You know that I love her?"

"I have known that a long time."

"Well, every man loves in his own way; and mine is a way you may not understand. However, I cannot live if Rose is long out of my sight; and so I have seen some things--Oh, dear Harry! need I tell you?"

Harry shook his head, and was gloomily silent.

"I saw Rose go into Delmonico's this afternoon, after the matinee.

There was a person with her who has often been with her lately--that is, when Rose is without Mrs. Filmer's company."

"Who is he?"

"I do not know him. I have not liked to ask any questions about him.

He is tall, with a supple, languid figure. He has the face of a fallen angel, handsome and wicked. I have noticed his eyes particularly, because, though he is dark as a Mexican, the eyes are a calm frosty blue--cold and cruel."

"I know whom you mean. His name is Duval. So Rose was with him to-day?"

"You see what a position this confidence places me in--an informer against the girl I would die for. But I do not speak without good reason. I followed them into the restaurant. They had a bottle of champagne; then this scoundrel rang for another, though it was evident Rose had already taken quite enough."

"Well, Antony? Speak out, man."

"I went up, then, to Rose. I said, 'Miss Filmer, I am sent for you.

You must return at once. There is no time to lose.'"

"Well?"

"She trembled, and asked: 'Is my father ill? Has anything happened to Harry? What is the matter, Mr. Van Hoosen?' And I said, 'You had better hasten home, Miss Filmer.'"

"What did Duval say?"

"He bowed and palavered, and got out of the way as quickly as possible. Poor little Rose was sick and white with fear; he understood my meaning well enough. I left Rose at her own door. I did not wish to explain to Mrs. Filmer then. But I must speak to you, Harry, for Rose is in danger. I love her, and will devote my life to her welfare. She loves me, though she will not trust her heart when it tells her so.

To-morrow I am going to see your father and mother, and make an offer for your sister's hand. But I find it impossible to point out the danger in which this dear little Rose lives. Yet they should know it, for, oh, Harry! her salvation may depend upon their knowledge, and their willingness that she may be taken out of temptation."

"Can you do this?"

"I can."

"Will you do it?"

"I will. I shall live for her, and her alone."

"Pardon me, Antony, if I suggest that cash may have a great deal to do with this proposal."

"I am rich. I shall spend all I have to save her. I shall take her to Europe for a year. All that love and money can do to make her strong shall be done."

Then Harry let his hand seek Antony's hand, and they understood each other, without words. But Harry was very unhappy and also very angry.

His betrothal to Adriana had been interfered with because it was supposed to be inimical to the social interests of his sister; and now the joy of his reconciliation to his love was shadowed by Rose's misconduct. Yet he felt that some steps must be taken at once to prevent the evils which would certainly result from her selfish weakness, if it were unchecked. For, after all, the sin resolved itself into the black one of selfishness; Rose was determined to have the pleasure she desired, though she should tear it through, the hearts of all who loved her, though it should bring her personally only misery and shame.

Such thoughts were natural enough to Harry, and they irritated as well as wounded him. It scarcely needed his mother's look of reproach and querulous question as to "why he had forgotten the dinner hour," to make him speak the truth, with almost brutal frankness.

"Where is father?" he asked, impatiently.

"Your father has been all day hard at work in the Astor Library. He came home perfectly worn out, and had his dinner served in his study.

He did not feel able to dress for the table to-night."

"It is perfectly absurd. Father has some duties to his family, I think. For instance, if he would remember he had a daughter. Where is Rose?"

"Rose is with that angelic young person, Miss Van Hoosen. And it is not your place to call your father 'absurd.' Some day, you will be proud of him."

"My dear mother, Rose is not with Yanna."

"_Yanna!_ Rose told me that she was going to the matinee with Miss Van Hoosen. I suppose she is spending the evening with her also."

"Rose is at home. She was brought home by Antony Van Hoosen, in a cab.

He took her from that fellow Duval. They were taking wine together in a restaurant. Now do you understand?" He spoke with gathering pa.s.sion, and Mrs. Filmer looked frightened and anxious, but she answered scornfully:

"No, I do not. You must speak more plainly. Is Rose sick? Is she hurt?

Why should Mr. Van Hoosen interfere with Miss Filmer?"

"Mother, go and ask Rose 'why.' I cannot say what I intended to say. I shall go to father; perhaps I can talk to him, if he will listen to me."

Mr. Filmer was surrounded by slips of paper which he was arranging with so much absorbing interest that he did not at once look up. But as Harry remained standing before him, he said fretfully: "I have to arrange these data while the facts are fresh in my mind. What do you want, Harry?"

"I want to tell you about Rose, sir. You must put down your data and listen to me. It is the most important duty you have."

Then the att.i.tude of the elder gentleman changed as quickly as a flash of light. He cast the slips of paper upon the table; his thoughtful countenance became alert; he turned round, faced his son, and asked, sharply: "What do you want to say about your sister?"

Then it was as if some seal had been taken off Harry's heart and lips.