Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller

“ At that moment Wild Madge turned and saw them. Directly she came up to them with her fortune-teller's whine:
"Cross my palm with silver and I will tell your fortune, bonny ladies."
"No, no, Wild Madge, we haven't got time to hear our fortunes told," said Lucy Moore. "Don't try to detain us. We are on a mission of life and death."
"So am I," mocked the sibyl with her strange, discordant laugh. "Death is on my trail to-day; but I know you, Lucy Moore, and you, too, lovely lady," she added, peering curiously under Bonnibel's veil. "I told your fortune once, pretty one—did the prophecy come true?" ”

“ Life! The thought came to her suddenly and painfully. She raised herself slowly and heavily, as if the weight of her sorrow crushed her down to earth, and the full realization of the terrible change broke over her. Leslie Dane was dead. That graceful form, that handsome face was hidden beneath the damp earth mould. The dark eyes of her artist husband would never shine down upon her again with the love-light beaming in them, those lips whose smiles she had loved so well would never press hers again as they had done that night when he had blessed her and called her his wife. ”

“ New perils environ your future. Think not that mine is but a boasted art. Those things which are hidden from you lie open to the gaze of Wild Madge like a painted page. She can read your hands; she can read the stars; she can read the open face of nature!"
"You rave, poor creature," said Bonnibel, turning away with a shiver of unreasoning terror, and pursuing her homeward way.
Wild Madge stood still on the shore a few minutes, looking after the girl as her slim, black-robed figure walked away with the slow step of weakness and weariness.
"It is a bonny maid," she said, aloud; "a bonny maid. ”

“ No warmth or color tinged the strange pallor of her face and lips, no light of love shone in the violet eyes that drooped beneath the sweeping lashes. She spoke and moved like a soundless automaton.
Bonnibel had pleaded for a private marriage, but Colonel Carlyle had set his heart on a marriage at church, with all the paraphernalia of a fashionable wedding. He wanted to show the whole world what a peerless prize he was winning. He had urged the point with the persistency and almost obstinacy that is characteristic of age, and Bonnibel had yielded recklessly. ”

“ Arnold knew that nothing could deprive Bonnibel of the prestige of birth and rank. The young mother who had died in giving her birth, had been one of the proud and well-born Arnolds. Her father, a gay and gallant soldier, though he had quickly dissipated her mother's fortune, had yet left her a prouder heritage than wealth—a fame that would live forever in the annals of his country, perpetuating in history the name of the chivalrous soldier who had gallantly fallen at the head of his command while engaged in one of the most gallant actions on record. ”

“ How can I thank you enough for giving me so much happiness?"
"You have made me very happy, too, Leslie," said the girl, simply.
"But what will your uncle say to us, do you think, Bonnibel?" said he, presently. "Will he not be angry with the portionless artist who dares to sue for this fairy hand?"
"Oh! no," she said, innocently. "He has never denied me anything in his life. He will consent when he knows how much I love you. You must ask him this very evening to let us be engaged while you are away winning fame and fortune. He will not be angry."
"I hope not," said the less sanguine lover. ”

“ The rich curtains of silk and lace are looped back from the windows, and the view outside is the beautiful Bay of Naples with the clear, blue, sunny sky reflected in its blue and sparkling waves. A garden lies below the windows, rich, in this tropical clime, with beautiful flowers, and vines and shrubbery, while groves of oranges, lemons, figs and dates abound in lavish luxuriance. Within the room that was furnished with princely magnificence and taste, were a man and a woman, the man old, and bowed, and broken, the woman young and more beautiful than it often falls to the lot of women to be. ”

“ They cannot be happy. My revenge has struck too deep at the root of that evanescent flower that the world calls happiness. And Colonel Carlyle is the proudest man on earth. Think you that he can ever hold up his head again after the shame and disgrace of that dreadful blow?"
"Scarcely," said Mrs. Arnold, echoing her daughter's laugh with one as cold and cruel. "You have taken a brave revenge, Felise, for Colonel Carlyle's wrongs against you, and if all goes as you have planned, I shall be proud of your talents and rejoice in your success. ”

“ You are lovely as an angel, but your beauty will be your bane."
"But beauty wins love," cried the listener, artlessly, while a rosy blush stained her fair brow and cheeks.
"Aye, aye, it wins love," was the crusty answer. "Your life will have enough of love, be sure. But beauty wins hate, too. The love that is lavished on you will be shadowed and darkened by the hate your fair face will inspire. Do not think you will be happy because you are beautiful. Years of wretchedness lie before you!"
"Oh! no," said the girl, with an involuntary shiver. ”

“ She shook her head and a heavy sigh drifted across her lips.
"Do not deceive yourself, Colonel Carlyle," she said. "My heart is dead. I shall never love any one."
"I will risk all that," he answered. "Only say yes, most peerless of women, and so that I call you mine I will risk all else!"
"Do you mean it?" she asked, earnestly. "The hand without the heart—would that content you?"
"Yes," he answered, bent on attaining his end, and foolishly believing that he could teach her to love him. "Yes; am I to have it, Bonnibel?" ”

“ The little white bed awaits her, tempting to repose by its daintiness and coolness, but she does not look toward it; only sits still as Lucy left her, with her face bowed on her hand.
Colonel Carlyle has gone back to the ball-room again, trying to steel his heart against the upbraidings of his conscience. He moves among the revelers pale and distrait, yet still trying to bear his part in the gaieties lest people should whisper that he is unhappy, and fearful that some one may read the secret of his jealousy and cruelty to his beautiful darling. ”

“ Arnold had wished to diminish Bonnibel's beauty by giving it so meager a setting she failed in the endeavor. The jewel was too bright to miss extraneous adornment.
The somber black dresses could not dim the gleam of her golden hair, the sparkle of her sea-blue eyes. Her white brow and throat were like the petals of a lily, and with returning health a lovely rose-tint began to flush her cheeks.
Her beauty was a royal dower of which no spite or malignity could deprive her. ”

“ It is Leslie Dane who has done this dreadful deed. That was what he meant by his dark threats this evening!"
"Leslie Dane has killed him!" echoed her mother, wildly.
"It is false, woman! How dare you accuse him of such a deed?" Bonnibel cried out fiercely, wild with grief and horror; then suddenly she looked at the half-dazed men-servants standing around their master helplessly.
"Idiots!" she cried, "why do you stand here idle? Why does not some one bring a doctor? Perhaps he is not dead yet—he may be revived." ”

“ His glance follows hers across the room to where his young wife stands a little outside the giddy circle of waltzers, leaning on the arm of a handsome, dreamy-looking youth, and despite the jealous pang that thrills him at Felise's artful speech, his heart throbs with a great love and pride at her exceeding beauty.
She looks like a snow-maiden, indeed, as her enemy says. She wears costly white lace over her white silk, and her cheeks and brow, her arms and shoulders are white as her dress. Colonel Carlyle's wedding gift, a magnificent set of diamonds, adorns her royally. ”

“ Oh, how can you forget your sense of honor as a soldier and a gentleman, and descend to an act so ignoble and unworthy? To imprison a weak and helpless woman, who has no friend or defender save Heaven! Oh, for shame, for shame!"
His eyes fell before the unbearable scorn in hers, and he turned as if to leave the room. But half way to the door he paused and came back to her.
"Bonnibel," he said, sternly, "cease this wild raving, and calm yourself. My troubles are hard enough to bear without the additional weight of unmerited reproaches from you. I am of all men the most miserable." ”

“ Leslie Dane had told her so; she had heard it from others, too, and even Wild Madge had admitted it.
Ah! Wild Madge! Over her memory rushed the words of the fearful old hag, freighted with a deeper meaning than they had held at first.
"You are beautiful, but your beauty will be your bane." "Years of sorrow lie before you!" "You will be a young man's bride, but an old man's darling!"
"It has all come true," she thought, turning from the circle around her, and looking wistfully out over the waves that came swelling against the shore, like some wild heart beating against the bars of life. ”

“ Felise Herbert had done a fearful work in making this man the victim of her malevolent revenge. Left to himself he had the nobility of a good and true manhood within him. But the hand of a demon had played upon the strings of the viler passions that lay dormant within him, and transformed him into a fiend.
"Not one word!" he exclaimed, to himself, in a passion of bitter resentment. "Not one word will she vouchsafe for me in her pride and scorn. Ah, well, Leslie Dane, you shall pay for this! I will hound you to your death if wealth and influence can push the prosecution forward! ”

“ Bonnibel, sweet Bonnibel! It is a dark world indeed on which your tearful gaze looks forth! It has been the grave of hope to many, yet destiny pushes us forward blindly, and we cannot stay her juggernaut wheels as they roll over our hearts.
"I am eighteen years old, and I am a widow," she moans at last, and staggers blindly to her feet, pushing back the fair locks from her brow with shaking hands. "I am a widow!" ”

“ The long lashes droop over her cheeks a little sadly as he talks. So these are the things with which she is to fill her life—society, dress, jewels, fashion. A long life, too, perhaps, for she is barely twenty-one now. For other women there may be love and happiness—for her nothing but the gilded pleasures that wealth can purchase. Ah, well, and with a start she remembers Mrs. Arnold's threat and her weak subjugation by it—these are the things for which she sold herself to the old man sitting yonder. ”

“ Again her laugh rang out mockingly.
"Never fear, fond lover, Wild Madge would not harm a hair of that bonny head you shelter on your breast. But destiny is stronger than you or I. Her doom is written. Take the little maid in your arms and spring out into the sea there, and save her from the heart-aches that are beginning now!"
"Begone, I say!" reiterated the young artist threateningly.
"I obey you," said the sibyl, retreating, with her mocking, discordant laugh still ringing in their ears.
"Bonnibel," he whispered, "look up, my sweet one. The crazy old creature is gone. ”

“ There was a wild glare akin to that of madness in her dark eyes.
"'Hell has no fury like a woman scorned!'" she said, repeating the words of the great poet. "Oh, mother, how I hate Colonel Carlyle and his wife! I seem to live but for revenge."
"Felise, you frighten me with your looks and words," Mrs. Arnold said, a little anxiously. "You seem like one on the verge of madness." ”

“ The housekeeper at the seaside home was left in charge of the hapless Bonnibel, who lay sick unto death in her luxurious chamber, tended carefully by hirelings and strangers, but with never one kiss of love to fall on her fevered brow in sympathy and tenderness.
Love had gone out of her life. With the young husband adrift now on the wide sea, and the kindly uncle lying in his gory grave, love had gone away from her. ”

“ Leslie Dane walked down the piazza to where Bonnibel's uncle and guardian, Francis Arnold, the millionaire, sat in his easy-chair puffing his evening cigar, and indolently watching the blue wreaths of smoke curling over his head.
Mr. Arnold was a spare, well-made man of sixty-five, with iron-gray hair and beard. His well-cut features were sharp and resolute in contour, and betokened more sternness than Bonnibel Vere ever dreamed of in his unfailing tenderness to herself. ”

“ Felise, if that were possible, was a worse woman than her mother, and possessed an iron will. She was the power behind the throne before whom Mrs. Arnold trembled in fear and bowed in adoration.
She hastened to console the angry girl.
"I think you are mistaken, my dear," she said. "I cannot see a vestige of prettiness left. Her hair is gone, her color has faded, and she never smiles now to show the dimples that people used to call so distracting. There are few that would give her a second glance. Besides, what is beauty without wealth? You know in our world it simply counts for nothing. ”

“ No thought of his forgetfulness or falsity crossed the mind of the loyal little bride. It seemed to her that death was the only thing that could have thrown that strange gulf of silence between their hearts.
She sprang into the little skiff—one of her uncle's loving gifts to his niece—and suffered it to drift out into the blue waves. A fresh breeze was blowing and the water was rather rough. The breeze blew the soft, short rings of gold merrily about her white temples where the blue veins were seen wandering beneath the transparent skin. ”

“ Thus Colonel Carlyle found her when he entered, late that morning. He was honestly shocked at the sight, for he had supposed that she would yield gracefully to the inevitable, and retire to her sleeping-apartment without more ado when she found how inflexible a will he was possessed of. Instead, here she lay prostrate on the rich velvet carpet of the boudoir, still attired in her ball-dress, the traces of tears on her pale cheeks, and her restless slumber broken by sobs and moans that shook her slight form like a wind-shaken-willow. ”

“ He stood glaring at her with rage and malignity distorting his aristocratic features. How dared that feeble, puny girl defy him thus?
For a moment he almost hated her. A sleeping devil was aroused within his heart.
"Bonnibel," he exclaimed, angrily, "you shall repent this hour in dust and ashes!"
All the latent fire and scorn of the girl's passionate nature were fanned into flame by his threatening words.
"I care nothing for your threat," she answered, haughtily. "I defy you to do your worst! Such threats do honor to your manhood when addressed to a weak and helpless girl! ”

“ Bonnibel saw him wince as the name of her beloved father passed her lips.
"Ah, you are not lost to all sense of shame," she cried. "You can tremble at the name of the hero you have wronged through his helpless daughter! Oh, Colonel Carlyle, by the memory of my father, whom you pretended to love and honor, I beg you to let me go free from this place." ”