Harriet Lewis

“ The yacht lay at anchor at the further side of the loch, and a mile away. A lantern hung at her masthead, and the forms of men were seen in the spectral glare, moving hurriedly to and fro on her deck.
“We have come to the right place, you see,” said Lord Towyn exultantly. “This is the loch. Yonder lies the yacht, but recently come in. The men are busy unloading their purchases.”
Sir Harold and Atkins swept the bold and rocky shores with their keen glances. The rugged steeps were black and bare, and in the dense gloom they saw no gleaming lights, no signs of habitation. ”

“ Why can my father’s wife, whom my father so loved, desire to harm me? Is she determined upon my marriage to Rufus Black? How will such a marriage benefit her? I acquit Rufus of any share in the conspiracy. They dared not bring him with them to this place. He would not permit this oppression and wickedness. Can it be that my fortune tempts Craven Black and his wife to force me into a marriage that is repugnant to me, and that they count upon the weak nature of Rufus, and that when they get me securely wedded to Rufus, they will seize upon my income and divert it to their own use? ”

“ Neva, I have been twice to Hawkhurst to receive the answer you promised me, but I could not speak to you alone. I may not find another opportunity than this, as you go with the Blacks to Wynde Heights on Monday. And so, although this does not seem a fitting place, I ask you again if you will be my wife. I love you, Neva, with all my heart and soul. If you will trust your happiness to me, you will find in me a true lover to the end of our days. ”

“ There are adventuresses in good society, of good birth and spotless reputations, as there are well-born adventurers. Mr. Atkins is right. Craven Black and Mrs. Hathaway have played a daring game, but they have not yet won. This is a terrible stroke to you, dear Sir Harold; but bear it bravely. You are not desolate because Lady Wynde feigned a love for you, and has proved false and wicked. You have the holy memories of your first wife to keep pure and steadfast your faith in woman. You have Neva to love you. You have your friends.”
But Sir Harold threw up his arms with a gesture of despair. ”

“ After the luncheon the young mistress of Heather Hills announced her intention of going out for a solitary walk. The wind was not so high as it had been in the morning, and Mrs. Peters did not venture any objections. Lally attired herself in a bombazine walking dress and astrachan jacket, hat and muff, and about two o’clock she went out alone for a walk along the cliffs.
For an hour or more she rambled on, stopping now and then to rest, and keeping near the sea, over whose wide wild waters her gaze strayed and fixed itself with singular steadfastness. ”

“ Neva Wynde sat until a late hour upon the deck, watching the play of the moonlight on the waters, the leaping white crests of the waves, and the white furrow plowed by the Arrow as she sped onward over the waters on her way to the northward.
The prophetic gloom settled down yet more darkly upon the young girl’s soul. A bitter, homesick yearning [58] filled her heart—a yearning for her father’s love to shield her, her father’s arm to lean upon, and her father’s wisdom to counsel her. ”

“ Wroat. “It’s consumption.”
“Do you employ a doctor for it?” asked the lawyer.
“Death is the best doctor,” answered the old lady, with grim facetiousness. “He’ll cure it for nothing. This is my last visit to you, Charles. I sha’n’t last much longer.”
“Oh, I hope you will live twenty years yet, and visit us every year!” cried Mrs. Blight. “Dear Aunt Wroat, we love to have you with us.”
“Yes, I know it,” said Mrs. Wroat, with another odd snap in her witch-like eyes. “I know it, my dear. It’s time to settle my affairs. I am thinking of making my will soon.” ”

“ The lawyer’s instinct had not deceived him. The noble face, the bright blue eyes, so full of warmth and glow, the tawny mustache, and the golden hair above a grand forehead—all these, now displayed to the solicitor’s gaze, were the features of Neva’s favored lover. But the young earl looked pale and worn by anxieties, and although now there was a glow and brightness and eagerness in his face and manner, yet one could see in all his features the traces of great and recent suffering. ”

“ Will nothing subdue your proud spirit? Will nothing bend your haughty will? Do you like bread and water and close confinement so well that you prefer them to a marriage with a handsome young man who adores you?”
“I prefer them to perjuring myself, madam,” said Neva bravely. “I prefer a brief imprisonment to a lifetime of sorrow and repining.”
“A brief imprisonment!” repeated Octavia. “It won’t be so brief as you think. We are going to remain here all winter, if necessary to subdue you. We have entered on a path from which there is no turning back. ”

“ We shall soon be shut in with snows and awful winds. Your lover can never trace you here, and if he could he would not be able to reach the Wilderness in the dead of winter. We shall have a dismal winter—you especially. What do you say, Neva?” and her tone grew anxious. “Will you yield?”
“Never!” said Neva quietly. “I am no child to be frightened by cold, and I am not so fond of the pleasures of the table as to sell my soul for them. I will live here till I die of old age before I will yield!”
Octavia Black’s face darkened with an awful shadow. She dreaded the terrible Highland winter ”

“ Artress,” she said quietly, “that the marriage of Lady Wynde to Mr. Black has completely transformed you. You do not seem like the same person.”
“And I am not,” declared Mrs. Artress. “There is no use in keeping the secret any longer, Miss Wynde. The whole world may know that I am the cousin of Craven Black, and being his cousin, of course I am his wife’s equal. I am going into society with Mrs. Craven Black during the approaching season, and it is quite possible that I may make as brilliant a marriage as Octavia Hathaway did when she married Sir Harold Wynde.” ”

“ The yacht was out in the North Sea now, battling with the short, chopping waves, but impelled onward by a fine breeze. She was well ballasted, seaworthy, and a swift sailer. What more could be desired by the guilty pair whose hearts beat exultantly at their evil success, as they regarded the unconscious victim of their machinations.
“She has no suspicion,” murmured Craven Black, as he promenaded the deck, his wife leaning on his arm.
“None whatever. She is too guileless herself to suspect guile in others. And she trusts me implicitly,” laughed Octavia Black softly. ”

“ She opened a door upon her right, and ushered Neva into a long ante-room, furnished as a bed-chamber. Beyond this ante-room, the door open between them, was a large square bed-room, where candles were burning in battered silver sconces.
“This ante-room was intended for the use of your maid,” remarked Mrs. Artress, “but as you did not bring your maid, and as Celeste is to attend upon you as well as upon Octavia and me, she may as well occupy your ante-room. In fact, we are so cramped for habitable quarters, that I have been compelled to assign it to her. How do you like your room?” ”

“ At six o’clock, dinner was served in the cabin. This second meal resembled the one that had preceded, but there were also roast beef, roast fowls, and vegetables, and wines. The swinging lamp was lighted in the cabin, which looked as comfortable as a yacht cabin can be made to look. There is, at best, a dreariness about a ship’s cabin or state-room which no art can conquer. And this cabin was no exception to the rule. Neva was glad to throw a shawl around her and go out again upon the deck. ”

“ Craven Black sat with hands outstretched, as they had grasped the letter Neva had snatched from them, his face growing livid, and a look of consternation glaring from his eyes. Octavia Black stood, half leaning still over her husband’s shoulder, as if turned to stone, the mocking smile frozen on her lips, a look of terror and defiance on her face. Mrs. Artress, retaining more of self-possession than the others, stared at Neva with unmistakable hatred and triumph. The treacherous French woman drooped her gaze, and grew pale and awe-stricken. ”

“ The Blacks looked at each other darkly, and read in each other’s eyes incitement to continue in their wickedness with unabated courage. Mrs. Artress looked on, evilly exultant. She had never liked the heiress of Hawkhurst, with her dainty beauty, her piquant witchery of face and manner, and with all the wealth that seemed so boundless. Mrs. Artress was jealous, envious, and full of hatred of her, and her greed of money had been enlisted against the young girl.
There was a brief pause, during which Neva sat down laying aside her muff and dressing bag. ”

“ I am so relieved, dear Neva, for I feared you would oppose my wishes, and I think if a woman ought ever to have her own way, it should be on her bridal tour. Craven has been telling me of the only piece of property he owns in the world, a worthless old Highland estate, valueless except for the shooting, with a dear old tumble-down house which no one will rent, and I fairly long to see it. ”

“ Rufus spoke with a plain sincerity that convinced his hearers of his truthfulness.
“We have had our journey to Scotland for nothing,” said Atkins.
Ryan looked crestfallen.
“We will detain you no longer, Rufus,” said Lord Towyn, a shadow darkening his fair and noble face. “Make our excuses to your bride for taking you from her so soon after your marriage, and accept our best wishes for your future prosperity and happiness. And now good-morning.” ”

“ Even Craven Black was alarmed at her appearance, and was calmed into instant gentleness.
“My poor Neva!” he cried. “I am come to take you home—”
“I will not go!” cried the girl, her red-brown eyes flashing. “O God, am I utterly forsaken and abandoned to my enemies?”
“You hear her?” exclaimed Black. “Poor thing! she needs her step-mother’s tender care and nursing. We brought her up to the Wilderness, hoping that the change would cure her propensity to these paroxysms. Come, Neva. Your step-mother is very anxious about you, and the whole household is alarmed.” ”

“ While I thought of her upon the deck, with longings for wings, that I might sooner reach her, she was the wife of another, and exulted in the thought that she was rid of me forever! Ah, this is a dreary coming home!”
“It is, Sir Harold,” said Lord Towyn sorrowfully; “but the wickedness of one person whom you have [195] loved need not darken your life, nor paralyze your energies. Neva is in peril. Rouse yourself from this great grief for her sake. Think what joy your return will be to her. We must find her, and save her.” ”

“ Sir Harold Wynde and Mr. Atkins looked at each other, and then both glanced at the clock. It was upon the stroke of twelve.
“A late hour for a call,” said the baronet uneasily. “I have no wish to be seen, Atkins. I am in no mood to encounter a possible client of yours.”
The knock sounded again, in a lull of the storm, low, secret and imperative.
Atkins’ face brightened up with sudden relief and joy.
“I know that knock,” he said. “Please step into the inner office, Sir Harold. You shall see no one but friends to-night.” ”

“ Craven Black is much higher than mine. Have you been blind to the insatiable vanity, and the vulgarity and ill-taste of the widow of Sir Harold Wynde, who, fifteen months after losing the noblest husband the sun ever shone on, converts that husband’s house into a ball-room, and sets his church bells ringing and his tenantry dancing at her marriage with a gambler and adventurer, unworthy even to breathe the same air with Sir Harold’s pure young daughter? ”

“ As the new-comers drew near the house, the forms Neva had seen disappeared. The travelers ascended the single step to the low broad porch, and entered the wide hall of the dwelling. This hall was lighted by a lantern suspended from the ceiling, and had a stone floor, a stone staircase, and doors upon each side opening into the living rooms of the house.
The travelers halted in the midst of the hall, and at the same moment the parlor door opened, and a woman came out with smiles of welcome—a woman clad in bright-colored garments, but with ash-colored hair and complexion. ”

“ Blight, with a degree of worldly wisdom for which her husband, it is to be feared, had never given her credit, “there’s nothing like making the old woman think we are prosperous. Money brings money. If Aunt Wroat sees us haggling about the butcher’s bills and the school bills, she may think her money is going into a bottomless bucket. But if she sees us apparently rich, and without money cares, she will be more anxious to leave her money to us.”
“That’s so,” said Mr. Blight. “I wish she’d come. Upon my soul, I do. Why didn’t my uncle leave me his money, and give his wife an annuity? ”