Bertha M. Clay

“ Margery, do not promise till you have heard what it is. Nugent!” The earl came to her with slow steps. “You shall not be left alone, Margery, when I am gone. Margery, you have loved me—you know all; I want you to be my brother’s wife!”
Margery drew back for an instant, and stood with her hands pressed against her bosom, her mind distracted, the words just uttered ringing in her ears.
Could she link herself to one whom she could never love, though she deeply respected him? Could she give herself to another while she believed herself pledged to Stuart Crosbie forever? ”

“ Ah, Love was never yet without
The pang, the agony, the doubt,
Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh,
While day and night roll darkling by.
Without one friend to bear my woe,
I faint, I die, beneath the blow;
That love had arrows well I knew;
Alas! I find them poison’d, too!
Birds yet in freedom shun the net
Which love around your haunts hath set;
Or, circled by his fatal fire,
Your hearts shall burn, your hope expire. [Pg 124]
Who ne’er has loved, and loved in vain,
Can neither feel nor pity pain.
The cold repulse, the look askance,
The lightning of Love’s angry glance. ”

“ Blanche’s laced handkerchief stole to her eyes for a moment, then she kissed her friend by way of thanks. There was a little buzz of well-bred, musical voices for a minute or two, and then the girls emerged on the upper terrace as if coming out to breathe the fresh air.
Paul Desfrayne drew back still farther within the sheltering gloom, rendered all the more secure by the increasing splendor of the moonlight, which caused strange, sudden contrasts of light and shade in the gardens. The faint scent of his cigar might have warned the girls of his proximity, but they did not notice it. ”

“ To be born to an inheritance of shame; to come into a world which had no welcome for it; to see tears always instead of smiles in the eyes which would have been so fond and proud, but for all this shame. No wonder Lady Gwendolyn threw herself down despairingly on the very floor, feeling in her abasement as if this were the only fitting place for such as she. ”

“ I do not know what madmen suffer, but it seems to me, on looking back, that for many long months afterward I was mad. There was nothing that I left undone to drive even the memory of her fair face from me; I could not do it. Clarice, a drowning man clings to a straw—I cling to you. Will you save me from the total wreck of life, reason and happiness? Can you be more generous than woman ever was before? Can you marry me, knowing that another woman has had the best of my life? Can you marry me, to save me and restore me to the world of men? ”

“ Margery scarcely heard the explanation; with a heart full of dread she was bending over the pale face, breathing words of agony and tenderness that fell on silent ears. The squire came to her and tried to draw her away; but she would not stir. They brought brandy from the house, and a mattress with pillows on which to carry the injured man; but all were afraid to touch him. Then, when her misery, her despair, was greatest, the heavy lids were raised, and she met the gaze of the deep, dark eyes. The white lips trembled and moved; she bent her head to catch the whisper. ”

“ Those betraying words of hers: “They said he was dead—they pretended I had killed him—my husband—Gilardoni!” echoed in the brain of the prince like a beating pulse. Had she, then, committed some fearful crime, and had her reason given way under the sting of conscience?
But no—no, a thousand times no! It was impossible. With a love, a loyalty wasted on its object, he refused to believe anything ill of his beloved one. ”

“ While waiting for the reply, I went to live with the only relative I had in the world—a cousin of my mother—a cross, proud, stiff, elderly lady, Donna Maria de Borga, who hated every one in the world younger than herself. I was so wretched, so unutterably wretched, that I wished myself dead over and over again. You can fancy a flower shut out from the sunshine and left to die in the cold. You can imagine a bird deprived of light and liberty. With my mother, life had been all poetry and happiness; now it was all gloom. ”

“ At ten o’clock precisely Colonel Dacre loosened his hold on her and said gently:
“Now, my darling, you must go to bed. To-morrow will be a fatiguing day for you, and I shall want to see a few roses at starting. Oh! Gwen, when I think what to-morrow is to be, it seems to me that I must be dreaming. All my own—my very own, ‘to love and to cherish till death us do part.’ It is too much happiness! Give me one kiss—the first I have ever had from you, sweetest—to make it all seem real.”
“No,” she answered shyly, and trembling; “I have always vowed that my husband should have my first kiss.” ”

“ Vane Charteris saw her cousin’s admiration, and her heart thrilled. Once more she would taste the joy of power, she would no longer be neglected. A vision of future triumph filled her mind at that instant. She would wake from her indifference. The world should see her again as queen, reigning this time by charm and fascination as well as by her beauty. The color mounted to her cheeks, the light flashed in her eyes at the thought, and she turned with animation and interest to converse with the man beside her. ”

“ Frank Amberley, fully conscious of the risk to his peace involved by lingering, could not tear himself away. But by degrees he discovered the charm, the beauty, the sweetness of the innocent Blanche’s character, so was in a fair way of being consoled. Happily for himself, he was not one of those who love but once and forever.
Paul Desfrayne did not tell his painful story all at once, and Lois spared him much of the distress involved in the recital, but by degrees she became aware of all the sad details; and she gave him all the pity and sympathy of her fresh young heart. ”

“ Perhaps the most bitter hour of all was when I stood with Kenelm by the body of Clarice and heard the story of his love for her. How cruel Fate was! I loved you! Kenelm loved Clarice, and we were parted.
“Can you imagine what a long, dark, dull brooding dream is, Hermione? That was mine after she was buried. A man who commits a murder is hung for the crime; his lot is merciful compared to that of the man who repents and lives on. I have wept tears of blood for mine. I would have given my life over and over again ten thousand times never to have done the deed. ”

“ Nugent has loved me as a father, mother, brother, all in one; we were left orphans so young; and, oh, Margery, you could never fathom how dear he is to me! When I was well and could run about I can remember that my greatest treat was to have a holiday with Nugent. Then, when my illness came, and I was crippled for life, it was Nugent who brought all the happiness, all the light into my existence. ”

“ Lois’ eyes were kindling with the varying sensations that rose in her heart as she listened. With the swiftness of an already overexcited brain, her imagination ran rapidly through every conceivable range of impediments, except the one that really existed.
She looked so lovely, so graceful, so ethereal in the cross-light, that, as Paul Desfrayne looked down upon her fair, English face and beautiful figure, he felt a strange yearning desire to take her for a moment in his arms, and press one kiss upon the half-open rose-bud lips. ”

“ She was watching a bird feed its little ones, and the smile on her face was open and frank as that of a child.
“She cannot be more than twenty,” said Kenelm Eyrle to himself. “There is not the faintest trace of a line on her brow, and her lips are parted just as are the lips of a child. I thought she was older when I saw her first. She cannot be more than twenty. Is she a widow? Has she loved and lost? No; that cannot be. She spoke of unkindness, cruelty, but not of loss. Can she have been betrayed, as the youngest and fairest are at times? ”

“ Margery lay silent, his words ringing in her ears, and again and again she told herself that she could not destroy this man’s new-found peace, his life’s happiness. She must strive to crush all love and remembrance from her heart, turn her face from the past, with all its store of sweetness and bitterness, and look upon the future, where the path of duty lay straight before her. ”

“ Oh, welcome death! Death that would place her at Ronald’s side again. Once more the pain passed, and she looked around her with frightened eyes.
“I wish I were not quite alone,” she said. “Oh Ronald, Ronald, how cruel has fate been to us! Oh! my own love! my dearest, only love! Are you where you can hear me? Ronald, when I call to you, do you hear me? My husband, I have kept my vow; I was willing to die for you; I would have gone to the scaffold and have smiled while I died for you. ”

“ Stuart, her Stuart, the being who held her very life, marry another—that fair, lovely woman who had laughed her to scorn! The sunshine grew blood-red before her eyes, for one instant she reeled, and then grasped the doorpost for support. Then gradually she awoke to the fullness of her pain and humiliation. Pride was swelling in her heart; she seemed in that instant changed from a girl of glowing, living hopes to a woman who had tasted the bitterness of all earthly grief. ”

“ I do not know who could properly describe Lady Hermione Lorriston, the real heroine of our story. It seems to me easier to paint the golden dawn of a summer morning, the transparent beauty of a dewdrop, to put to music the song of the wind or the carol of a bird, or the deep, solemn anthem of the waves, as to describe a character that was full of light and shade, tender as a loving woman, playful as a child, spiritual, poetical, romantic, a perfect queen of the fairies, whose soul was steeped in poetry as flowers are in dew. ”

“ What is love?”
“Love,” cried Stuart, “is the greatest joy or the greatest pain. To love is to think, dream, live only for one person, to be happy when near them, lonely when away, ever longing to clasp their hand, listen to their voice, as I have done these past weeks, my own sweet dear one.”
“Then”—the color came vividly into the cream-white cheeks, the eyelids drooped, and the graceful head was bent—“then I do love you, Mr. Stuart; but——”
“But!” interrupted Stuart, gathering her to his arms. “There is no ‘but,’ my darling, my very own! Oh, Margery, if you could know what happiness I feel! ”

“ Many pictures lived in Kenelm Eyrle’s mind, one of the fairest was that of the balcony, with its twisted pillars and odorous flowers, where he sat that morning to hear Lady Pelham’s story.
A large laburnum, with drooping, golden tresses, was near them, in full flower; a lilac, with full, tufted plumes, filled the air with fragrance; the white acacias were all in bloom; the mavis sang in the trees; there was a vision of drooping limes and spreading oaks, a balcony that might have served the “Queen of the Fairies” as a drawing-room. ”

“ Wavemouth was so quiet, so peaceful, so completely in keeping with her desire for rest, that Margery loved the place.
She was still far from strong, and the sea breezes brought a sense of relief and freshness to her spirit. She was fighting a hard battle with herself, striving with all her might to crush out her old love and turn to her husband, whose depths of goodness and generosity she was learning to know better each day. ”

“ If she, poor Clarice, could speak, she would plead for him! Oh, spare him, Kenelm; spare him!”
She seized his hand, and the tears from her weeping eyes fell on it.
“You will be kind to me. You are chivalrous and kind. You will not let a woman kneel here at your feet, and refuse her prayer?”
“It is to avenge a woman’s cruel death that I act,” he said, gloomily.
“‘Vengeance is mine,’ said the Lord; ‘and I will repay it.’”
“Hermione, this is not revenge, but justice. You know it; I know it. If I could save your husband by laying down my own life, I would gladly do it, but I cannot.” ”