May Agnes Fleming

“ Your age, my dear Blanche, is it not?"
"Never mind my age!" retorted Mrs. Walraven, sharply. "My age has nothing to do with it. If you don't ask Mollie Dane to-night, Hugh Ingelow or James Sardonyx will to-morrow, and the chances are ten to one she accepts the first one who proposes."
"Indeed! Why?"
"Oh, for the sake of being engaged, being a heroine, being talked about. She likes to be talked about, this bewildering fairy of yours. She isn't in love with any of you; that I can see. It isn't in her shallow nature, I suppose, to be in love with anybody but her own precious self." ”

“ He came at last—cloaked and masked, and wearing the false hair and beard—utterly unrecognizable.
"At last, Miss Dane," he calmly said, "you have sent for me. You are tired of your prison? You long for freedom? You accede to my terms?"
"Yes," said Mollie, with a sort of sobbing cry, for she felt utterly broken down. "Anything, anything under heaven for freedom! Another week like this, and I should go mad! But, oh! if you are a man—if you have any pity in your heart—don't ask this sacrifice! Let me go as I am! ”

“ Oh, dear!" cried Mollie, impatiently, "I wish I was a gypsy, free and happy, to wander about all day long, singing in the sunshine, to sleep at night under the waving trees, to tell fortunes, and wear a pretty scarlet cloak, and never know, when I got up in the morning, where I would lie down at night. It's nothing but a nuisance, and a trouble, and a bother, being rich, and dressing for dinner, and going to the opera and two or three parties of a night, and being obliged to talk and walk and eat and sleep by line and plummet. ”

“ Mollie smiled softly, and looked into the glowing mask of coals.
"You forget I refused him, Miriam."
"Bah! a girl's caprice. If you discovered he was your mysterious husband, would you blow out his brains and your own?"
"No," said Mollie, coolly. "I would much rather live with Hugh Ingelow than die with him. Handsome Hugh." Her eyes softened and grew humid. "You are right, Miriam. You can spae fortunes, I see. I do like Hugh, dearly. But he is not the man."
"No? Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. He is too chivalrous, for one thing, to force a lady's inclination." ”

“ But, man—demon—whatever you are," she cried, with a sort of frenzy, "I do consent—I will become your wife, since my only chance of quitting this horrible dungeon lies that way!"
If Mollie could have seen the face behind the mask, she would have seen the red glow of triumph that overspread it at the words; but aloud he spoke calmly.
"My happiness is complete," he said. "But remember, Mollie, it will be no sham marriage, that you will be at liberty to break. A real clergyman shall unite us, and you must promise me to make no appeal to his sympathy—to make no attempt to converse with him. ”

“ But Mollie never looked. After that one brief, irrepressible cry, she had fallen back, her face bowed and hidden in her hands.
"You shrink from me, Mollie," Hugh Ingelow said; "you will not even look at me. I knew it would be so. I know I deserve it; but if I were never to see you again, I must tell you the truth all the same. Yes, Mollie, recoil from me, hate me, spurn me, for the base, unmanly part I have acted. It is not Doctor Oleander who is the dastard, the villain, the abductor of weak women—it is I!" ”

“ MOLLIE DANE,—Come to me at once, if you want to find out who you are, who your parents were, what Carl Walraven is to you. This is your wedding-night; but come. I am very ill—dying; I may not see morning. If you delay, it will be too late. The bearer is my friend; she will conduct you to me. Tell no one. Carl Walraven will prevent you, if he can. I say to you, come—come—come.
MIRIAM.
If there was one thing on earth that flighty Mollie was really in earnest about, it was in knowing her own history. ”

“ And the happiest day of Mollie's life is the day she finds you are Mollie's husband!"
They were back in the carriage, driving through the golden mist of the sunny afternoon slowly back to the city. Side by side, as happy lovers sit, they sat and talked, with—oh, such infinitely blissful faces!
"And now," said Mollie, "what are we going to do about it? It will never answer to reveal this horrid little romance of ours to all the world."
"Nor shall I. The world has no right to our secrets, and the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh will go to his grave with his little mystery unsolved. ”

“ Sir Roger Trajenna, inspired by the music, the moonlight, and the charming little beauty beside him, there and then laid name, heart, and fortune at Miss Dane's fair feet.
There was a pause. Even Mollie felt a little fluttered, now that the time had come.
"I know the disparity of years is great," the baronet said, quite trembling in his eagerness; "but my whole existence will be devoted to you; every pleasure wealth can purchase shall be yours; every wish that I can anticipate shall be anticipated. You will be my darling, my idol. I love you passionately. ”

“ For, with a shriek of madness, she made a spring at him, and the doctor just managed to slam the door and turn the key before her little, wiry hands were upon his throat.
"Great Heaven!" Dr. Oleander cried to himself, pale and aghast, wiping the cold perspiration off his face; "was ever such a mad creature born on the earth before? She looked like a little yellow-haired demon, glaring upon me with those blazing eyes. Little tiger-cat! I told them she was a raving lunatic, and, by George! she's going to prove me a prophet. It's enough to make a man's blood run cold." ”

“ There was that in the girl's white, rigid face that frightened the strong man. He recoiled and looked at the little flashing serpent with horror.
"I have listened to you, Doctor Guy Oleander," said Mollie Dane, slowly, solemnly; "now listen to me. All you say may be true, but yours I never will be—never, never, never! Before you can lay one finger on me this knife can reach my heart or yours. I don't much care which, but yours if I can. If I am your wife, as you say, the sooner I am dead the better." ”

“ The fate you allotted to Mollie Dane shall fall upon yourself. You shall quit this house before the week ends, never to return to it more."
"Carl! Husband—"
"Silence, madame! No husband of yours, either now or at any future time! This shall be our last interview. We part to-day to meet no more."
"Carl! Carl! for pity's sake, hear me."
"Not a word, not a syllable. All the excuses in the world would not excuse you. I never loved you—now I hate you. After this hour I never want to look upon your wicked white face again."
Blanche Walraven's spirit rose with the insult. ”

“ So Susan Sharpe fetched along her tray, and received a bountiful supply of coffee and toast, and steak and muffins.
"There's nothing like plenty of good victuals for curing the vapors," observed Sally, sagely. "You make the young woman eat this, Mrs. Sharpe, and she'll feel better, you'll see."
Mrs. Sharpe smiled, as she bore off her burden, at the idea Sally must have of one little girl's appetite.
She found Mollie sitting at the window gazing at the sea, sparkling as if sown with stars, in the morning sunshine.
"Is it not beautiful?" she said, turning to the nurse. ”

“ An artist stood in his studio, overlooking busy, bright Broadway. He stood before his easel, gazing in a sort of rapture at his own work. It was only a sketch, a sketch worthy of a master, and its name was "The Rose Before It Bloomed." A girl's bright, sweet face, looking out of a golden aureole of wild, loose hair; a pair of liquid, starry, azure eyes; a mouth like a rosebud, half pouting, half smiling. An exquisite face—rosy, dimpled, youthful as Hebe's own—the radiant face of Mollie Dane. ”

“ I didn't want to see you the wife of an old dotard you didn't care a fillip for."
"So, to mend matters, you've made me the wife of a scoundrel. I must forever hate and despise—yourself."
"Not so, Mollie! I mean you to be very fond of me one of these days. I don't see why you shouldn't. I'm young; I'm well off; I'm clever; I'm not bad-looking. There's no reason why you shouldn't be very fond of me, indeed. Love begets love, they say, and I love you to madness."
"So it appears. A lunatic asylum would be the fitter place for you, if you must escape state prison. ”

“ Oleander, in the face of freedom. And Hugh Ingelow was near, and she loved Hugh. Oh, if she had never refused him—bravest, noblest heart that ever beat! the most generous gentleman the Creator ever made!
Alone Mollie sat—alone, but lonely no longer; for yonder, drifting lazily into the setting tide, the sunset glowing above and around it, floated the snow-white skift. In the amber mist fluttered the banner of blue—the banner of hope—and there, lounging easily, with his face turned to her, was the man she loved, handsome Hugh! her beloved—her darling! ”

“ Miss Blanche Oleander, darkly majestic in maize silk and jewels, sat at Miss Dane's right hand, and eyed her coldly with jealous dislike. Mollie read her through at the first glance.
"She hates me already," thought Mr. Walraven's ward; "and your tall women, with flashing black eyes and blue-black hair, are apt to be good haters. Very well, Miss Oleander; it shall be just as you like."
A gentleman sat on her other hand—a handsome young artist—Mr. Hugh Ingelow, and he listened with an attentive face, while she held her own with the sarcastic Blanche, and rather got the best of the battle. ”

“ How are you, Sally?" said Mollie's conductor, nodding familiarly to these two antediluvians. "Is the room ready? Here's the lady."
He drew Mollie, whose arm he retained in a close grasp, a little closer to him, and Mollie noticed that, for some reason, the ancient pair shrunk back, and looked as though they were a little afraid of her.
"The room's all ready," said the old woman, with a pair of glittering little eyes fixed, as if fascinated, on Mollie's pretty face. "The missis and me's been a-tidying of it all day long. Poor creeter! so young and so pretty! What a pity!" ”

“ It is dreadful to see any human being so destitute."
She started impetuously up, but Miriam stretched forth her hand to detain her, her fierce eyes flaming up.
"Not half so dreadful, Mollie Dane, as the eating the bread or drinking the cup of Carl Walraven! No; I told him before, and I tell you now, I would die in a kennel, like a stray dog, before I would accept help from him."
"Miriam!"
Miriam made an impatient gesture.
"Don't let us talk about me. Let us talk about yourself. It is my first chance since you came here. You are well and happy, are you not? You look both." ”

“ Down the stair-way pealed the wild, melancholy music of a German waltz; from the dining-room came the clink and jingle of silver, and china, and glass. The woman's haggard face filled with scorn and bitterness as she gave one fleeting, backward glance.
"They say there is a just and avenging Heaven, yet Carl Walraven is master of all this. Wealth, love, and honor for him, and a nameless grave for her; the streets, foul and deadly, for me. The mill of the gods may grind sure, but it grinds fearfully slow—fearfully slow!" ”

“ A brilliant, full moon flooded the dark earth and purple sea with silvery radiance; the sky was cloudless—blue as Mollie Dane's eyes, the stars beyond number, big and bright.
A faint sea-breeze just stirred the swaying trees; the surf broke in a dull, monotonous wash on the shining strand; even the dreary Long Island farmhouse and its desolate surroundings were transfigured and glorified by the radiant moonlight.
Mrs. Susan Sharpe was an inestimable woman in her way, but neither a poet nor an artist. ”

“ A gaunt and haggard woman, clad in rags, soaking with rain—a wretched object as ever the sun shone on.
"Is Carl Walraven within?" demanded this grisly apparition, striding in and confronting the tottering footman with blazing black eyes. "Tell him Miriam is here."
The footman recoiled further with another feeble yelp, and Blanche Walraven haughtily and angrily faced the intruder.
"Who are you?"
The blazing eyes burning in hollow sockets turned upon the glittering, perfumed vision.
"Who am I? What would you give to know? Who are you? Carl Walraven's wife, I suppose. His wife! Ha! ha!" ”

“ Mr. Walraven remembered the anonymous note, and started violently. An instant later, they heard a servant open the door, and then a wild, ringing shriek echoed through the house.
There was one simultaneous rush out of the drawing-room, and down-stairs. There, in the hall, stood Wilson, the footman, staring and gasping as if he had seen a ghost; and there, in the door-way, a silvery, shining vision, in the snowy bridal robes she had worn last, stood Mollie Dane! ”

“ I love the little witch to madness, and I owe her one for the way she jilted me. I'll do it, by thunder!"
"Very well," said Mrs. Walraven, quietly. "Don't get excited, and don't make a noise. I knew you would."
"But what will the old lady say?"
"Who cares for the old lady?" retorted Mme. Blanche, contemptuously. "Not you, I hope. Tell her it's an insane patient you have brought to her for quiet and sea air. Judy is a regular dragon, and the old woman is as keen as a ferret and as sly as a female fox. Mollie won't escape from them. She may yield, if she really is convinced you are her husband. ”

“ But Hugh Ingelow, strange to say, looked rather relieved. His face had flushed hotly under that innocent kiss, and then grown deathly pale. He was very white when Mrs. Sharpe came in, and Mrs. Sharpe's sharp eyes saw it. The green glasses were gone.
"You look fit to die," observed Mrs. Susan Sharpe, eying him. "What's the matter?"
Mollie looked at him, then turned away. Had she been forward? Was he mortified?
She colored painfully, then slowly petrified to marble. But the young artist only laughed.
"Pining for you, Mrs. Sharpe. I only exist in the light of your eyes. ”

“ Mollie cried, her eyes sparkling. "He shall be, if all the world knows the story! What care I? I will have my revenge on the man I hate—on the man who has wronged me beyond reparation. And then I can go away where no one will know me, and make my own way through the world, as I did before I ever came to New York."
Hugh Ingelow looked at her. Her eyes were alight, her cheeks flushed, her whole face eager, angry, and aglow. ”

“ I absolutely and utterly and altogether abhor and detest Doctor Oleander!"
"What is that? Some one is listening."
Miriam had started in alarm to her feet; Mollie rose up also, and stood hearkening. There had been a suppressed sound, like a convulsive sneeze, outside the door. Mollie flung it wide in an instant. The hall lamp poured down its subdued light all along the stately corridor, on pictures and statues and cabinets, but no living thing was visible.
"There is no one," said Mollie. "It was cats or rats, or the rising wind. Every one in the house is asleep." ”

“ He took the gag from her mouth, and Mollie caught her breath with a gasp. He untied the bandage round her eyes, and for a second or two she was dazzled by the sudden blaze of light. The instant she could see, she turned full upon her abductor.
Alas and alas! he wore a black mask, a flowing wig, a beard, and a long cloak reaching to the floor.
He was a tall man—that was the only thing Mollie could make out of the disguise.
"Miss Dane does not spare me; but it is all in vain. She may gaze until her lovely eyes drop from their sockets, and she will not recognize me. And now I will leave you. ”

“ Walraven dropped his bill, poised his lorgnette, and prepared to stare his fill.
She was very well worth looking at, this clear-voiced Mollie Dane—through the tatters and unkempt hair he could see that. The stars in the frosty November sky without were not brighter than her dark, bright eyes; no silvery music that the heir of all the Walravens had ever heard was clearer or sweeter than her free, girlish laugh; no golden sunburst ever more beautiful than the waving banner of wild, yellow hair. Mollie Dane stood before him a beauty born. ”