Bonnibel

“ 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. ”

“ The fairy little bark, the Bonnibel, swept blithely out into the moonlighted waves.
Bonnibel tied her lace handkerchief over her head, and wrapped the shawl about her shoulders.
Somehow her heart began to grow lighter. This moonlight flitting seemed so sweet and romantic.
Her dark-eyed lover sitting opposite lightly swaying the oars [Pg 17] looked handsome as a demi-god to her partial eyes. She trusted him implicitly.
"The king can do no wrong," was her motto. ”

“ Word for word he is going over the specious sophistries of Felise, but he is utterly unconscious of the fact. He has been merely a pliant tool in her artful hands, but he believes that he has found out all these facts for himself, and he asserts them with a perfect conviction of truth.
For Bonnibel stands listening in stunned silence to his vehement rhodomontade. She has walked away from him a little way, and stands clinging to the back of a chair, as if to save herself from falling. ”

“ As Bonnibel felt the strange touch upon her mouth she wheeled, rearing a little, and the girl’s soft hat was shaken from her head. Roden wondered if he had ever seen anything prettier than the sunlight on the young Virginian’s sun-like curls, and the glossy hide of Bonnibel.
The mare was going quieter now, mincing along and picking up her feet after a fashion much in vogue among equine coquettes. She was beginning to like the feel of the light, firm hands, and to be sensible of the masterly pressure of the strong young knees upon her mighty shoulders. ”

“ Word for word, though it gave him inexpressible pain to recall it, he went over the story of his love for Bonnibel Vere, and her uncle's rejection of his suit, and the high words that passed between them. He passed lightly over their farewell, omitting but one thing. It was the story of their moonlight sail and secret marriage. That story was sealed within his breast. He would have died before he would have revealed Bonnibel's fatal secret to any living soul. ”

“ 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." ”

“ He is too proud and stubborn to do so voluntarily, and I think that Bonnibel has acquiesced so readily in the plan that he can find no loop-hole of escape from it. She is as proud as he is; besides, she does not love him, and his unreasoning harshness has rendered her perfectly reckless. ”

“ It was his intention to try stud-farming in Virginia. No better horseman than Roden ever put boot in stirrup. He had, as an old pad-groom once remarked, “a genus for osses.” It was a mania, a fad of the most pronounced type, with him. No woman’s eye had ever possessed for him half the charm that did the full orbs of his favorite mare, Bonnibel, as she gazed lustrously upon him over her well-filled manger. No sheen of woman’s hair had ever vied, in his opinion, with the satin flanks of Bonnibel. What was it to love a woman? ”

“ It is quite impossible that Bonnibel and this foreign artist should have met before. Anonymous warnings should always be treated with contempt."
And then he remembered the anonymous note he had received at Long Branch two years before.
"That was true," he said to himself. "Bonnibel as good as admitted it, for she would not show me the inscription in the ring, and she refused to give up wearing it. But she said that the giver was dead. Had she had two lovers, then, innocent and youthful as she was? Perhaps she deceived me. Women are not to be trusted, they say. ”

“ 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!" ”

“ You, a poor, penniless, unknown artist!"
"I grant you I am poor, Mr. Arnold," answered Leslie Dane, rising and confronting his accuser with a mien as proud as his own. "But that I have abused your confidence, I deny! Bonnibel loves me as I love her, but I have taken no undue advantage to gain her love. You invited me here, and gave me every opportunity to cultivate her acquaintance. Can you wonder that I learned to love one so sweet and beautiful?" ”

“ And he praised papa so highly I could not choose but like him for his words."
"The cunning old fox," said Felise to herself, while she drew her black brows angrily together. "Already he has been trying to find the way to her heart."
"He is rather fine-looking for one who is certainly no longer young—don't you think so, Bonnibel?" pursued the wily girl.
"Certainly," said Bonnibel, willing to praise Colonel Carlyle because she thought it would please Felise; "he does not seem so very old, and he is quite handsome and stately-looking." ”

“ Felise told them of the artist lover who had murdered the millionaire because he would not give him his niece. The excitement only ran higher than before, and people looked at the young creature with even more curiosity and interest than ever.
Bonnibel could not help seeing that she was an object of interest and admiration to everyone about her. She saw that the men sought her side eagerly and often, and that the women were jealous of her. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Arnold.
"He will think that Bonnibel is silent because she would sooner sacrifice him than lose her prestige in society, and her brilliant position as the wife of Colonel Carlyle. He will scorn to betray her secret, and will go to his death with the self-sacrifice of a martyr."
"But suppose Colonel Carlyle should let Bonnibel go free? What then?"
Felise laughed softly.
"He will not do so, mother. I have sent him an anonymous letter to-day that will fairly madden him with jealousy. He will never unlock her prison-door until the grass is growing over the handsome face of Leslie Dane." ”

“ You see we must hurry, if we would save him."
"Yes, yes; better to leave the old woman to die in the rain, and hurry on," whined the sick woman.
"We are here now. We will leave you under shelter at least," Bonnibel answered gently.
They led her in, and consigned her to the care of the wondering old housekeeper at Sea View, and went back to the shore.
The Bonnibel, battered and worn, but still seaworthy, rocked at her moorings yet. They loosened the little craft, sprang in, Bonnibel took up the oars, and the little namesake shot swiftly forward through the rough waves to Brandon. ”

“ I am compelled to keep that beggarly artist out of the country at any cost."
"But, my dear, there is no chance of Bonnibel marrying Colonel Carlyle even though she should be separated forever from her artist-husband, for she is a married woman anyhow. One hint of this to Colonel Carlyle would make your affair all right with him again!"
"It would not," answered Felise, passionately. "He is madly in love with her. Have I not seen it in these few weeks since she has been well enough to come down-stairs? Has not the old fool hung over her as dotingly as any boy-lover could do? ”

“ Bonnibel cannot repress a smile at the girl's quick gesture of disgust.
"You will like the French people better, I hope, when you stay among them two years, for I shall probably stay in Paris that long. I am going to school there, Lucy. You know that I have never been to school in my life, and my governesses were not strict enough with me. There are many things I do not know yet, that one moving in society I frequent should know. So I am going to learn something yet. It is never too late to mend, you know." ”

“ 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 pretty lines have a more attentive listener than Bonnibel. Her husband has come up softly and unnoticed. He sees the graceful head graciously inclined, hears the lines that Byron Penn has, unconsciously to himself, made the vehicle for expressing his own sentiments, and his heart quakes with fury. ”

“ He looked at her imploringly, but her face was turned away, and she was trailing one white ungloved hand idly through the blue water.
"Perhaps I am presumptuous in speaking such words to you, little one," he continued, gently. "I am but a poor artist, with fame and fortune yet to win, and the world says that you will be your uncle's heiress. Yet I have dared to love you, Bonnibel—who could see you and not love you? Are you very angry with me, darling?"
Still no answer from the silent girl before him. ”

“ I have come to take you away with me, Bonnibel."
A slight, almost impalpable, shiver runs through her at the words, and she smothers a faint sigh.
She will be very sorry to leave this haven of peace in which she has rested securely the last two years. She has grown fond of her quiet life among the "passionless, pale-cold" nuns of the convent, and is loth to break its repose by going back to the jar and fret of life with her jealous husband. ”

“ He is very old, but then he is a millionaire."
She arose, stately, handsome and dignified.
"Felise and I return to New York Saturday," she said. "Will you be strong enough to accompany us?"
"I am afraid not," said Bonnibel, faintly.
"Very well. Your maid and the housekeeper will take care of you in our absence. I will send you a traveling suit of mourning, and when you feel strong enough you can come to us."
"Yes, madam," Bonnibel answered, and the wealthy widow left the room. ”

“ And have you any money you can take with you? For it will take more money than I have in my purse, perhaps, to carry us home to New York."
"To New York—are we going back there?" faltered the listener.
"As fast as wind and water can carry us!" answered the girl. "You and me are needed there in a hurry, my darling mistress. At least you are, for I feel almost sure that a man's life is hanging on your evidence."
"Lucy, what can you mean?" exclaimed Bonnibel, in amazement.
"Ah! I see they have told you nothing!" answered Lucy.
Bonnibel caught her arm and looked anxiously into her face. ”

“ Colonel Carlyle was filled with a raging hatred against the man who had loved Bonnibel Vere before he had ever looked upon her alluring beauty.
He had received an anonymous letter filled with exaggerated descriptions of Bonnibel's love for the artist, and his wild passion for her. The writer insinuated that the lovely girl had sold herself for the old man's gold, believing that he would soon die, and leave her free to wed the poor artist, and endow him with the wealth thus obtained. ”

“ 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. ”

“ She glances up inquiringly into his face, but he will not meet her eyes.
"Bonnibel, I want you to give up waltzing altogether—will you do it?" he asks, bruskly.
"Give up waltzing?" she echoes, in surprise. "Is not that a very sudden notion, Colonel Carlyle? I did not know you harbored any objections to the Terpsichorean art."
"I do not in the abstract," he answers, evasively. "But you will pardon me for saying that I consider it exceedingly indelicate and improper for a married woman to dance with any man but her husband. ”

“ They grow in the depths of the deep blue sea!"
A sudden voice and step broke on her fancied solitude. She turned quickly and found herself face to face with the wandering sibyl, Wild Madge.
The half-crazed creature was, as usual, bare-headed, her white locks streaming in the air, her frayed and tattered finery waving fantastically about her lean, lithe figure. She looked at Bonnibel with a hideous leer of triumph.
"Ah maiden!" she cried—"said I not truly that the bitter waters of sorrow were about to flow over you? You will not mock the old woman's predictions now." ”