Witness to the Deed Part 8

"Bah! Heroics! Come away, Myra. Of course he'll talk big for his friend. But where is he? Why has he insulted us all like this?"

"Heaven only knows, sir," said Guest solemnly. "Forgive me for speaking as I do before you, Mrs Barron, but at the cost of alarming you I must take Malcolm's part. I saw him this morning at his chambers, ready almost to come on. He placed Miss Perrin's telegram in my hands--about the bouquet--and begged me to see to it at once--to take the flowers to the hotel, and meet him at the church."

"Yes--yes!" cried Myra eagerly, and her large, dark eyes were dilated strangely.

"I did not pay any heed to it then, for I attributed it to anxiety and nervous excitement."

"What, Mr Guest?" cried Myra piteously.

"His appearance, Mrs Barron. There was a peculiar wild look in his eyes, and his manner was strange and excited. Some seizure must have been coming on."

"Yes, yes; it is that," said Myra hoa.r.s.ely, and she hurriedly tore off gloves, veil, and ornaments.

"He was quite well last night," said the admiral scornfully. "It was a trick to get rid of you. I'll never believe but what it is all some deeply laid plan."

"You do not know what you are saying, Sir Mark, or I would resent your words. Mrs Barron, I will come back directly I obtain tidings of my poor friend. You know him better than to think ill of him."

"Yes, yes," cried Myra, speaking firmly now, but in a low, hurried murmur. "But stop, Mr Guest; stop!"

He turned sharply, for he was already at the door.

"Wait for me--only a few minutes. Edie--quick; help."

Her cousin flew to her side.

"Myra!" cried the admiral fiercely; "what are you going to do?"

"Change my dress," she said with unnatural calmness. "Go to him."

"What?"

"Where should I be but at his side?"

"Impossible, girl! You shall not degrade yourself like this!" cried the admiral; and Miss Jerrold caught her niece's hands.

"There would be no degradation, Sir Mark," said Guest firmly; "but, Mrs Barron, you cannot go. For years Malcolm has been like my brother. He had no secrets from me, and I can tell you from my heart that there is but one reason for his absence--a sudden seizure. Don't keep me, though, pray. Stay here and wait my return. Unless,"--he added quickly, with a deprecating glance at Sir Mark.

"What! I--go with you to hunt up the man and beg him to come? Pshaw!"

"Mark, it is your duty to go," said his sister sternly. "I don't believe Mr Stratton would insult us like this."

"Then for once in my life, madam, I will not do my duty!" cried the admiral furiously. "It is not the only occasion upon which a man has gained the confidence of his friends. It is not the first time I have been so cruelly deceived. I can see it plainly. Either, like a pusillanimous coward, he turned tail, or there is some disgraceful entanglement which holds him back!"

"Father, it is not true!" cried Myra angrily. "How dare you insult me like that?"

"I--insult you?"

"Yes, in the person of the man I love--my husband, but for this terrible mischance. You do not mean it; you are mad with anger, but you will go with Mr Guest at once."

"Never!" roared the admiral.

"For my sake," she cried as she flung her arms about his neck and clung to him. "I give up--I will not attempt to go there myself--you are quite right; but," she murmured now, so that her words were almost inaudible to all but him for whom they were intended, "I love him, dear, and he is in pain and suffering. Go to him; I cannot bear it. Bring him to me, or I shall die."

The admiral kissed her hastily, and she clung to him for a moment or two longer as he drew a long, deep breath.

"My own dearest father," she whispered, and she would have sunk at his feet, but he gently placed her in a lounge chair and turned to Guest.

"Now, sir," he said, as if he were delivering an order from the quarter-deck, "I am at your service."

Myra sprang from her chair and caught her aunt's arm, looking wildly in her eyes; and the meaning of the look was grasped.

"Stop a moment, Mark," she said. "My carriage is waiting. You may want a woman there; I'll come with you."

"You?" cried her brother. "Absurd!"

"Not at all," said the lady firmly. "Mr Guest, take me down to my carriage; I shall come."

Sir Mark frowned, but said no more; he merely glanced back as Myra now gave up and sank in her cousin's arms, while, as Miss Jerrold went down, her lips tightened, and she looked wonderfully like her brother, as she said to herself:

"Thank goodness! No man ever wanted to marry me."

"Benchers' Inn," said Guest sharply as the footman closed the carriage door, and the trio sat in silence, each forming a mental picture of that which they were going to see.

CHAPTER SIX.

GUEST THINKS THE WORST.

"Myra! My own darling!" sobbed Edie.

"Hush! No, I must talk. If I think in silence I shall go mad."

"O Myra, Myra, are you never to be really married after all?"

The bride made a hurried motion with her hands, then pressed them to her temples and thrust back her hair.

"It makes me think of two years ago, dear," whispered Edie, "and all the horrors of that day."

"Yes; is it fate?" said Myra hoa.r.s.ely as she sat gazing at vacancy.

"But I'll never believe that Malcolm Stratton could do wrong," whispered Edie, caressing and trying to soothe the sufferer as she clung to her side. "It couldn't have been that this time, or else Percy would not be such friends."

Myra bent forward with her eyes dilated as if she were gazing at something across the room.

"Your poor hands are so cold and damp, and your forehead burning hot. O Myra, Myra! I did not think that two such terrible days could come in one poor girl's life."

"Edie," said Myra in a husky whisper, "you saw Malcolm last night?"