Charles Garvice

“ Taking up her hat, and telling the footman that her father was not to wait breakfast for her, she went out, caring nothing about the direction she should take, and, after leaving Bessie, she wandered aimlessly on to the woods and threw herself down on the thick undergrowth in an abandon of misery and dread.
She—she Bartley Bradstone’s wife; she who could not endure the sight of his face, she upon whose ear his very voice and laugh jarred! It was terrible; and yet—and yet there was no other way of saving her father, whom she loved with a passionate devotion. ”

“ The governor of her Majesty’s prison at Wainford was a certain Colonel Summerford; a gentleman, and a man of sound common sense. He had been governor for nearly twenty years, but during all that long experience he had never had so strange and puzzling an inmate as Harold Faradeane. Colonel Summerford knew the ordinary jail-bird by heart, and understood every song that bird could sing; but this man, charged with the murder of a woman in Hawkwood woods, scattered all the good colonel’s experiential theories and ideas, like chaff before the wind. ”

“ Then Lord Bertie, with an earnestness which went to the hearts of all who heard him, spoke of his long knowledge of Faradeane; how they had been at Eton together—he the younger and the weaker, Faradeane (or Lord Clydesfold) the stronger and the protector; how, all through their lives, Faradeane had proved himself the truest of friends and the most upright, honorable, and lofty-minded of men. “Such a man as my friend Lord Clydesfold is simply incapable of murder!” he wound up, and there was a buzz of applause.
“You knew nothing of this secret marriage with the gypsy?” asked Edgar. ”

“ There was an instantaneous movement toward them, and amidst the excited whispering they entered the vestry. She carried in her hand the bouquet he had sent; but the snow-like flowers were not whiter than her face, and she clung to her father’s arm with a clasp which seemed as if it could never be loosened.
With downcast eyes she stood for a moment, scarcely seeming to breathe, more like a lovely statue than a living woman; then Bartley Bradstone, who had been standing in the center of a group, came toward her. ”

“ Bartley Bradstone’s, Seth, the gypsy, might have been seen making his way along the crowded Strand. There is never too much room either in the road or on the pavement of that famous thoroughfare at any time; but just before eleven, and from that hour to midnight, it is, perhaps, the most densely thronged of any of the London streets, and Seth had to shoulder his way through the usual streams of humanity which emerge from the various theatres, on their way home or to the supper-rooms and restaurants. ”

“ Though you are lost to him, you are still the one being in the world for him, and it is not saying too much to say that he would lay down his life for you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If he could have trusted himself he would have stayed near you to be ready at any moment, at any cost, to do you service; but he was not strong enough, his love made him weak. Miss Vanley, Bertie asked me to promise that I would, as it were, take his place—that I would be ready, should the occasion present itself, to lay my services at your feet. You smile.” ”

“ At any time in the past the idea of accepting him would have been repugnant; but now, since the last few days, she shrank from the prospect with an absolute loathing. She rose, pale and weakened, bewildered; she felt she could not meet her father that morning. She dreaded to hear even Bartley Bradstone’s name. And yet what escape was there for her? If what he had said were true, he held her in an iron thrall. For her father she would sacrifice anything—life itself. But she must have time to think, time to realize the awful ordeal through which she must pass ”

“ Olivia was silent for a moment, then she raised herself on her elbow.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“In Wainford jail, miss,” replied Bessie, piteously. “He has been there ever since—ever since the day of the wedding——”
“And the murder!” breathed Olivia. “He is shut up there with no friend to help him, while the guilty man is free!” Her eyes flashed, and she drew a long breath of repressed and passionate indignation. “Is there no one to help him—no one trying to save him?”
Bessie shook her head.
“I don’t know, miss. They say that no one can help him, unless he will help himself.” ”

“ Miss Vanley forget if you can—I know it will be hard—that I am almost a stranger, that you know nothing of me, and—listen to me. Do not send me away till I have told you what I came to tell you, what I would have kept from you, even now, if I had not given my word.”
Again the look swept over her face.
“You will not wonder that a man should love you. I don’t think it is possible for any one to see you, to hear you, to be in your presence for one short day without loving you.” ”

“ The only man who seemed to have retained his calmness in the midst of the excitement was the prisoner himself. While everybody else was eagerly debating the probability of his guilt or innocence, and endeavoring to ascribe the motive for his crime, if indeed he committed it, Harold Faradeane uttered no word which could tend toward a solution of the mystery.
Some thought that it was impossible for him to be innocent; and when the coroner’s jury had returned a verdict of willful murder, people shook their heads, and pursed their lips significantly. ”

“ Harold Faradeane glanced ever so slightly at Bartley Bradstone, then met Lord Carfield’s grave and troubled regard.
“Nothing, my lord,” came the reply.
“Remove the prisoner,” said Lord Carfield in a low voice, and Faradeane followed the policemen from the dock.
A murmur of pent-up excitement rose from the crowded court, and several ladies who had grown pale and somewhat hysterical during the examination drew long and audible breaths of relief.
“That man is not guilty,” said one of them. “I am as certain of it as I am that I am sitting here. ”

“ Faradeane’s face went white.
“It is you who are mad,” he said, sternly.
“Forgive me,” pleaded Bertie, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “But I’ve seen her with both you and him; and I’ve heard her speak to him, seen her look at him as if she disliked him, while to you she was all smiles.”
Faradeane sprang to his feet.
“That will do!” he said, in a low, harsh voice. “You are scarcely accountable for your words to-day, Bertie; but don’t you see, great heavens, man, how you are giving her away? Is Miss Vanley the kind of woman to engage herself to one man while she is in love——Bah! ”

“ He stopped.
“Dearer than your own life,” said the squire, solemnly. “I do not know how she is. I expected to carry her home more dead than alive; but she has not broken down or given way. Bessie, who has been like a sister and as good as gold, says that my girl will not give way; that—that—I can scarcely speak of him”—and he shuddered—“that the sense of freedom, absolute freedom from that man, will sustain Olivia even through so terrible an ordeal as that through which she has passed; the sense of freedom and—and”—he pressed Clydesfold’s hand—“the knowledge that you are safe.” ”