"Thou art lost to me forever—I have lost thee, Isadore,Thy head will never rest on my loyal bosom more,Thy tender eyes will never more gaze fondly into mine,Nor thy arm around me lovingly and trustingly intwine.Thou art lost to me forever, Isadore!"My footsteps through the rooms resound all sadly and forlorn,The garish sun shines flauntingly upon the unswept floor;The mocking-bird still sits and sings a melancholy strain,For my heart is like a heavy cloud that overflows with rain.Thou art lost to me forever, Isadore!"
"Thou art lost to me forever—I have lost thee, Isadore,Thy head will never rest on my loyal bosom more,Thy tender eyes will never more gaze fondly into mine,Nor thy arm around me lovingly and trustingly intwine.Thou art lost to me forever, Isadore!
"My footsteps through the rooms resound all sadly and forlorn,The garish sun shines flauntingly upon the unswept floor;The mocking-bird still sits and sings a melancholy strain,For my heart is like a heavy cloud that overflows with rain.Thou art lost to me forever, Isadore!"
Within a week after that scene in which Jewel had betrayed her angry jealousy of Azalia Brooke, he wished devoutly that he had never entangled himself in an engagement with the imperious brunette.
Could he have followed the dictates of his heart he would not have lost an hour in wooing Azalia Brooke.
She had told him that she was going soon. They had been in Boston more than a month, and Lord and Lady Ivon were getting anxious to resume their travels. Theywould go to Washington next to see an American Congress in session, and an American President.
When he heard that she was going, he realized, by the terrible pain he felt, that he loved her with his whole soul, that when she was gone, the whole world would seem dark and cold and empty.
"For, alas, alas! with meThe light of life is o'er!'No more—no more—no more—'(Such language holds the solemn seaTo the sands upon the shore)Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,Or the stricken eagle soar!"And all my days are trances,And all my nightly dreams,Are where thy blue eye glances,And where thy footstep gleams—In what ethereal dances,By what eternal streams!"
"For, alas, alas! with meThe light of life is o'er!'No more—no more—no more—'(Such language holds the solemn seaTo the sands upon the shore)Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,Or the stricken eagle soar!
"And all my days are trances,And all my nightly dreams,Are where thy blue eye glances,And where thy footstep gleams—In what ethereal dances,By what eternal streams!"
He grew impatient with himself at what he called to himself his inexcusable folly. What if he were free to woo, was it likely she would listen?—she, the proud descendant of one of the proudest lords of England. Doubtless she had been taught to have a secret contempt for Americans, and he was a thorough American, proud of his country, proud of its institutions, and though rich, cultured, and well-born, he had no title to lay at the beauty's feet, while Mrs. Raynold Clinton had told him that the young and handsome Earl of Clive was desperately in love with Azalia Brooke.
"He was like her shadow in London last winter," she said. "Azalia refused him, but he would not take no for an answer, and Lord and Lady Ivon are in hopes she will reconsider her decision, as the match is a good one, even for their great-granddaughter."
Every word was a thorn in his heart. He began torealize something of what Jewel's jealousy was to her in the strange pain that racked his heart.
Then he tried to reason with himself. He never could be anything to Azalia Brooke, even if she were not so cold and proud. He belonged to Jewel Fielding, and she had made him understand very plainly that it would not be a safe plan for him to break with her now.
Suddenly the Earl of Clive made his appearance in Boston. He had crossed the Atlantic in order to be near the lady of his heart.
He was young, rich, and good-looking—a trifle arrogant, perhaps, but one with so many gifts of this life has some cause for vanity.
He devoted himself with ardor to Azalia Brooke, causing more than one gallant admirer to think, indignantly:
"Were there no beauteous maids at home,And no true lovers here,That he must cross the seas to winThe dearest of the dear?"
"Were there no beauteous maids at home,And no true lovers here,That he must cross the seas to winThe dearest of the dear?"
Jewel Fielding was very glad that Azalia Brooke's titled lover had come upon the scene.
The beautiful brunette was by no means blind to the state of her lover's feelings. She was half maddened with her bitter jealousy of her betrothed and her hatred of Azalia Brooke.
She hoped that Laurie would see the futility of his passion now that Lord Clive had come.
Jewel was very busy getting ready for her marriage now, which had been set for the early spring. In her anxiety to be sure of her husband she would have liked to forego the delights of a trousseau, and be married at once, but she had no excuse for hurrying the time, and LaurieMeredith never hinted at the intervening months as being at all too long.
So Jewel filled up her life as much as possible with ordering an expensive trousseau and mixing in the gay world, not giving herself time to think, for "that way madness lay."
One evening her lover had called to accompany her to an entertainment given in honor of Lord and Lady Ivon, who were to leave on the morrow. Jewel was exquisitely dressed for the occasion in a dress of dark-red satin, draped in rich black lace, one of her favorite and most becoming costumes. Her ornaments were deep red rubies set in gold.
A happy light was burning in the large dark eyes, for her rival was going away to-morrow, never to cross her path in life again, she hoped.
Mrs. Wellings, in rich black velvet and point lace, was in attendance as chaperon.
Jewel slipped her gloved hand through the arm of her betrothed.
"Let us go to the conservatory, dear Laurie," she whispered, fondly. "I have a fancy that you shall choose the flowers I wear to-night."
He rose with her and selected deep-red jacqueminot roses. She made him cut them off with long stems and an abundance of buds, and was about to fasten them in her corsage, when, to his utter amazement, she uttered a wild, startled shriek, dropped the flowers and fell against his breast, clasping her white arms around his neck.
"Jewel, what is it?" he exclaimed, putting his arm around her gently, and looking down at her convulsed face.
He saw that her eyes were fixed upon a door in the rear end of the conservatory, and his glance hastily followed her strained and startled one.
As he did so, a blast of keen, cold, wintery air sweptthrough the warm, odorous conservatory. The rear door was open, and upon its threshold, very clearly outlined against the blackness of the outer night, there was standing a slight, girlish figure all in white.
A swift shudder crept along the veins of Laurie Meredith.
The figure he was gazing at was all in misty, yet luminous white, that fell from neck to feet in a loose, graceful fashion. The face was not quite clear in the dim light, but it seemed to be of mortal paleness, while all around it fell long waves of golden hair.
Laurie Meredith gazed in wonder and awe at that strange, unearthly looking figure, while Jewel shuddered and moaned, faintly:
"You see it, do you not, Laurie—the awful spirit form? Oh, this old house is haunted! I have seen the ghosts more than once, but I would not speak lest no one would believe me. But, oh, you can not guess what I have suffered, and, dear, I shall be so glad when I am married and gone from this dismal, haunted abode!"
Jewel had seen the ghost so often that her nerves were steeled against it, and she turned it to account by this clever hint to Laurie to hasten their marriage.
Both were looking intently at the luminous figure in the open door. It moved slightly and threw up one arm in a theatrical gesture, and Laurie Meredith uttered an exclamation:
"A ghost, Jewel! But I do not believe in ghosts!"
"Nor did I, till I came to this horrible house!" she whispered. "Oh, Laurie, what are you going to do?" for he had drawn her arms from his neck and was pushing her hurriedly into a chair.
"I shall speak to the ghost," he whispered, and darted down the flowery vista.
There was a stifled shriek, a flutter of garments. Theghost fled into the outer darkness, and Laurie Meredith after it.
Jewel sat quaking in her chair, thinking in terror:
"Ah, what if it should lead him into the old cellar, and he should discover my awful secret?"
At that moment a woman's shrill, frightened cry became audible, a moment later the voice of a man:
"Who are you, playing ghost like this, and frightening helpless women out of their senses? You need not struggle, for I am going to unmask you."
The pretty ghost was quite strong. It struggled desperately out there in the darkness, but it was no match for Laurie Meredith, and presently he dragged it triumphantly into the conservatory, and tore from it a wig of fair hair and a white complexion mask. This revealed the pretty, flustered face of Jewel's maid, who, in a spangled tarletan dress and wig and mask, had made an ethereal-looking ghost.
"Marie!" exclaimed Jewel, in astonishment and relief.
"Oui, ma'amselle," replied the pretty maid, with a titter.
"So you recognize the ghost?" Laurie demanded.
"Yes," said Jewel. "Oh, Marie, was it you all the time?"
"Pardon, mademoiselle, but—yes. I—I—did not mean to frighten any one, only to tease Jules, the gardener, who is my lover."
"It was a very poor joke. If I were in your place, Jewel, I would dismiss this girl from my employ at once," Laurie Meredith said, sternly.
Marie whimpered, and looked pleadingly at Jewel, who hardened her heart, and said, severely:
"Yes, you may go. You are a mischievous girl, and have given me several frights that I shall never forget."
A strange smile flickered over the girl's face, but she said, humbly:
"I will never do it again—only let me stay, ma'amselle!"
"No, you shall not stay. I discharge you, and without a character," replied Jewel, angrily.
"Oh, mademoiselle, you are cruel. Grant me but a private interview, and I will convince you that I am not to blame," pleaded Marie, humbly; but her eloquence would have had no effect on Jewel but for an expression that appeared in the girl's eyes and startled her into yielding, it was so full of bold meaning and deadly menace.
The glance made Jewel quake, she could not tell why, only that her consciousness of a dark and guilty secret made her nervous and fearful. She hesitated a moment, and the girl, turning her back completely on Laurie, made large eyes of such impudent menace at her that she was compelled to acquiesce.
She looked at her betrothed, and said, sweetly:
"Perhaps I had better hear her defense, Laurie. I do not wish to be too hard on a poor, friendless girl."
"That is very magnanimous of you, Jewel," he replied, admiringly. "Do as you please, only let our young friend here understand that at another such offense she must go."
"Monsieur, I will never do so again!" whimpered Marie again; and she dropped into a mocking courtesy, and followed her mistress up the stairs.
Jewel was trembling with indefinable fear, but she turned boldly on the delinquent maid.
"Now, Marie, if there is anything you can plead in your own defense, do so quickly," she said, sharply.
Marie faced her with an impudent smile bold and taunting.
"Mademoiselle, you dare not discharge me," she replied, coolly.
"Dare not!" Jewel echoed.
"That was what I said," replied the French maid, calmly. "I repeat it. You dare not discharge me, for it would be dangerous to send away the trusty maid who shares your fatal secret."
She saw horror and consternation on the dark, beautiful face. It grew pale as marble, and the eyes dilated in horror.
"Ah, you understand me!" Marie said. "I confess it was naughty in me to play ghost, but then I thought you ought to be punished a little for that terrible deed. She was young and lovely, the girl you killed and flung into the cellar. You see I know all, Miss Fielding, for I watched, and I saw you dragging her down the steps."
"I deny it all!" Jewel gasped, feebly; but Marie laughed her to scorn.
"You deny it, with your victim lying down there under the water in the cellar!"
Jewel saw that denial would be useless.
"Oh, Marie, I did not kill her," she gasped, feebly. "She was weak and sick; she fell down dead in my room, most probably with heart disease. I was frightened. I thought I might be accused of murder, so I hid the body."
"A very unwise thing to do, as you would not get any one to believe that story, especially if I showed them this," replied Marie, drawing from her pocket the piece of bronze bric-à-brac, and showing Jewel a dull red stain on its brightness.
She shuddered, and asked:
"Why have you kept the secret so long?"
"To forward my own interests," Marie answered, promptly. "You will retain me in your service as long as I choose to remain, and you will raise my wages to three hundred dollars per month. I think that is veryreasonable, considering everything; and, besides, you ought to be very grateful to me for keeping your awful secret."
Jewel knew that this was quite true. She would have sacrificed her whole fortune rather than that her guilty secret should be betrayed.
"Does any one else know?" she asked.
"I have never opened my lips," Marie replied, truthfully; and Jewel very gladly consented to the terms of her silence.
She went to her lover, and the full glass of wine she had taken was not sufficient to steady her nerves. She trembled like one with a chill, and he begged her to remain at home, declaring that the shock she had received made her look too ill to go to the entertainment.
But not for any consideration would Jewel have remained at home and left the field clear for Laurie to linger by the side of her rival.
"I would not miss it for anything, and I know I shall be better presently," she said; and went back to the parlor and aroused Mrs. Wellings, who all this time had been dozing in her easy-chair, oblivious to all that had happened.
The chaperon was sadly addicted to champagne with her dinner, and was prone to fall asleep afterward—a failing on which Jewel looked very complacently, since she did not have to be bored with the old woman's droning remarks.
Having aroused her to a sense of the impending festivities, she hastily donned her warm cloak, and all three went out to the elegant sleigh which was in readiness to convey them over the glittering crust of snow to the grand entertainment.
It was in a shady, flowery alcove, that must have been designed especially for lovers, that Lord Clive was sitting with Azalia Brooke, and by one of the strangest of chances Laurie Meredith was close by, unseen and unheard, yet within ear-shot of their talk.
It could not have been very pleasant to him to listen to Azalia's lover pleading his cause with the lovely girl, yet that was what Jewel's betrothed was forced to hear as he lingered there unable to get away without attracting their notice.
"I feared you would be angry if I followed you to America, yet I could not help it," Lord Clive said, plaintively, presently, and Azalia's voice answered gravely:
"It seemed very useless. We should have been back in England in a few months."
"A few months—an eternity!" exclaimed the earl. "Ah, how coldly you can speak of being away from me, while I was devoured by the pangs of jealousy lest some handsome American should win you from me."
"That is all nonsense!" said Azalia Brooke, quite haughtily; and Laurie Meredith sighed heavily, and thought that he had judged rightly. She was proud of her ancient name, and scorned the Americans who could point to no long line of ancestry.
"I am glad you think it is all nonsense, but you can't think how I have been hating these fellows over here, Miss Brooke. I had to come. And now that I'm here you won't send me away again as you did in London, will you? Oh, Azalia—"
Passionate words followed, words of love and entreaty. Lord Clive could be quite eloquent on the subject whichoccupied his heart, and there was one but a few feet away who envied him the privilege of wooing sweet Azalia Brooke, one who was almost maddened by jealous pain.
He listened intently for the girl's answer. It came low and sadly:
"I hoped you had given up all hope of me!"
"Never!" declared Lord Clive.
"I told you last winter that it was useless—I have no love to give you," said the sweet, musical voice, very gently.
"I will teach you to love me if you will only give me an opportunity!" protested Lord Clive.
The girl laughed, but the laugh had a mocking sound, so did her voice as she exclaimed:
"Suppose I tell you that I was once taught that lesson by another? Will you give over talking to me then of what could never be?"
"Azalia—Miss Brooke!"
"It is true," she answered, in a bitter tone.
"You love another!" he exclaimed, despairingly.
"Nay, nay; I loved once! Put it in the past tense, please!" she interrupted; and even where he sat, Laurie Meredith could hear the deep sigh that heaved her breast as she added, in a voice of passionate self-scorn: "I should hate myself could I love him still, false and fickle as he proved to be!"
Lord Clive stared at her in the most profound amazement, startled by her unwonted emotion, but the agitated voice went on:
"Yes, look at me in wonder. You have thought me cold and heartless because I turned a deaf ear to lovers. It is due to you that I confess the truth. I have no heart to give, because it was wiled from me long ago by one who valued it but for a little while, then flung it carelessly away!"
"Impossible!" he exclaimed, in the greatest wonder.
"It is true," she answered; and the pathos of her voice went to Laurie Meredith's heart.
"It was when you were an American girl?" asked Lord Clive.
"Yes, before Lord Ivon sent Mr. Kelso to seek me," said Azalia Brooke. "And now you know why I despise love and lovers, Lord Clive. I have no faith in their protestations, because I know how to rate them."
"You do injustice to honest lovers for the sake of one traitor," he said, warmly. "Miss Brooke, he deserves death at the stake. Tell me his name that I may call him out and shoot him!"
A dreary, mocking laugh rippled over her lips as she answered, simply:
"Perhaps he is past your vengeance, Lord Clive. I heard long ago that he was dead."
"It is some comfort to know that he has gone to his reward," murmured Lord Clive, with grim satisfaction.
He looked a moment curiously at her agitated face, then said:
"I thank you for giving me your confidence, Miss Brooke. Rest assured I shall respect it. And you will permit me to express the sentiment that the fellow must have been ice itself to turn cold to you."
She did not reply, and he continued:
"But all that was in the past. You look back with scorn upon your fickle lover. Let me teach you to forget him in a new love. Be my bride, and no wife was ever worshiped as shall be Azalia, Countess of Clive!"
"I thought you would not tease me any more when you heard my story," she said, pensively; but he vowed that this only made him more determined to win her for his own.
"You have loved before—what does it matter?" he said. "There are few who do not fancy themselves in love at an early stage of existence. This first love, whatis it but the light froth on the wave, shining brightly a moment, then dissolving forever. I would be contented to be your last love, dear, to have you say to me:
"'But thou—thou art my last love,My dearest and my best!My heart but shed its outer leavesTo give thee all the rest.'"
"'But thou—thou art my last love,My dearest and my best!My heart but shed its outer leavesTo give thee all the rest.'"
What a persistent lover he was, thought the irritated listener. He wished that Lord Clive would go away, but to his chagrin he only renewed his suit, and presently Azalia said, wonderingly:
"You would be willing to marry me after what I have told you?"
"Willing and happy. I believe that I could teach you to forget the bitter past, and to love me," he replied, earnestly; then, eagerly, "Oh, Azalia—"
She held out her beautiful hand to him.
"Then I consent for you to make the effort," she said.
It seemed to Laurie Meredith as if the point of a poisoned dagger had gone through his breast. His head drooped and he seemed dazed for a little. He came to himself with a start, and heard Azalia saying:
"Now, leave me alone a little to think of my rash promise. You may tell my great-grandpapa, if you wish. It will make him very happy."
He left her reluctantly, and Laurie Meredith stumbled out of his seat to go. She looked up at the sound, and their eyes met, hers full of bitter triumph, his dim with a misery she could not fathom.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Brooke. I was here when you and Lord Clive came. I did not wish to interrupt you—it would have been embarrassing. But had I known I was to hear—" he paused, and she said:
"My bitter confession and Lord Clive's proposal, you would have gone; but you stayed and heard—so now."
"I should congratulate Lord Clive, and wish you ahappy future, which I do, fair Countess of Clive to be," he answered, in a strained voice, and Azalia Brooke thanked him with superb self-possession.
But could he have seen how the proud head drooped when he had gone, could he have read the secret thoughts of that tortured heart?
"Oh, what if he knew that I saw him there, that my confession, my acceptance of Lord Clive were all to pique him to return to his old allegiance? Alas, my test has failed! I thought he was beginning to care for me again, that somehow he suspected that I was Flower. But no, he cares not. It is Jewel he loves, and I can doubt no longer. That marriage was a sham, as she said, and it was well that my baby died, poor little one, with the same dark brand on his birth as that upon his mother's! Alas, dare I keep my troth with Lord Clive without confessing my shameful birth? But then, Lord Ivon has forbidden me ever to confess the truth, so what can I do?"
Lord Ivon and his party left for Washington the next day, and Jewel said to herself that they did not go one day too soon for their own good, for there was murder in her heart toward the beautiful Azalia Brooke.
"If she had stayed any longer, and Laurie had continued to show his preference for her so plainly, I believe I should have poisoned her," she muttered, angrily, to herself.
She had heard with great satisfaction of the beauty's betrothal to Lord Clive, and fearful lest Laurie had missed hearing it, she repeated it to him with malicious delight, eliciting the quiet answer that Lord Clive was a very fortunate man.
Jewel pouted charmingly, but he took no notice. Eversince last night he had been thinking of the words Lord Clive had said to Azalia Brooke:
"It was when you were an American girl."
She had answered:
"Yes, before Lord Ivon sent Mr. Kelso to seek me."
Tossing on a sleepless pillow between the dawn and the daylight, he had been ceaselessly asking himself:
"What did they mean? I was under the impression that she had never been in America before."
It seemed to him that he could not know rest nor peace until he found out what Azalia Brooke had referred to in her answer to Lord Clive.
That afternoon found him in the office of the noted lawyer, Raynold Clinton.
"I wish to ask you some questions," he said. "You were in England last winter, and you were intimate with Lord Ivon?"
"Yes."
"There is a mystery about Miss Azalia Brooke that I wish to penetrate. It is generally believed that she has never been in America before this time, but I think you could tell a different story if you would."
The lawyer looked at him, surprised to see how white and eager his face looked.
"My dear fellow, I can not see what concern this is of yours," he said, hesitatingly. "You are not in love with Miss Brooke, as she is engaged to Lord Clive and you to Miss Fielding. As for what is hinted about a mystery, Lord Ivon does not deny that his great-granddaughter is an American girl, although I admit that he does not care to dwell on the circumstance."
"You will tell me all that you know, Mr. Clinton? Believe me, I have a vital interest in this matter."
The lawyer could see that Laurie Meredith was terribly in earnest. His sparkling brown eyes were dark with feeling, his face pale with excitement.
"Really, there is not much to tell," said the lawyer. "Lord Ivon had a younger son who ran away to America, and was disowned by his family. But his elder and second son both died, as also his grandchildren. Then he sent his lawyer to America to seek his disinherited son, or his descendants. He brought this girl back, the last descendant of the house of Ivon. 'Sole daughter of her father's house and heart.'"
"Her name?" Laurie demanded, hoarsely.
"Azalia Brooke," replied Mr. Clinton.
"You are sure, quite sure, Mr. Clinton?"
"That is what I was told," replied the lawyer, with so truthful an air that the listener could not doubt him.
"Perhaps you can tell me where she lived before Lord Ivon's lawyer found her, Mr. Clinton?"
"It was in the South. I do not remember the name of the place. Indeed, I am not sure I ever heard. It was not talked about much, because Lord Ivon seemed to have a marked distaste to the subject."
"I thank you for your information, Mr. Clinton. I shall make no improper use of it, yet there may be a startlingdénouementto the story you have told me. If so, you will understand what brought me here to-day," the young man said, with an earnestness that impressed the lawyer very much and made him very curious.
But Laurie Meredith went away without confiding anything, for he felt that such a step would be premature.
But his brain was reeling with the wild suspicions that chased each other through it.
"I am almost persuaded that the girl is Flower herself!" he thought. "Yet, in that case, she knows me—knows me as the husband for whom she ceased so soon to care, and secure in her fancied sure disguise, laughs at me and my love—even pledges her faith to another before my eyes! Who could have believed that lovely, gentle little Flower could be so heartless and wicked? Will she dareto marry him, knowing herself bound to me? Yet she told him her lover had proved false, and that she had heard that he was dead. What if there has been treachery somewhere? Jewel—she has loved me always, and there has been something of the tiger-cat in her jealousy of Azalia Brooke. What if—"
He could think collectedly no longer, but flung himself down on his bed, while wild, blissful visions chased each other through his brain.
Jewel was expecting her lover that evening, and he came promptly. She thought she had never seen him so handsome, his brown eyes were so bright, his cheeks glowing with feverish color.
Artfully he led her on to talk of her past life, and at last said, curiously:
"Do you know, dear Jewel, that you have never told me the name of your birthplace?"
"It was Springville, Georgia," she replied, without a suspicion of the anxiety with which he awaited her reply.
But when he talked on indifferent subjects awhile, he took leave, and the next day she was astonished to receive a short note from him, bidding her a hasty adieu, as he had been called away from the city for a few days on a matter of business.
"He has followedher—he has gone to Washington to be near Azalia Brooke!" she exclaimed, angrily; and her eyes blazed with such intense jealous fury that she seemed on the point of going mad. A terrible purpose began to form in her mind.
Jewel ordered her carriage, dressed hastily, and was driven to the residence of Mrs. Meredith.
That lady and her daughters were sitting cozily in theirwarm, luxurious morning-room, each engaged in a fascinating piece of fancy work, when Jewel was shown into the room.
The handsome elderly lady and her two placid, brown-eyed daughters presented quite a contrast to the visitor, who burst impetuously into the room with crimson cheeks and blazing eyes, and, scarcely waiting for the customary greeting, exclaimed in an excited voice:
"Mrs. Meredith, where has Laurie gone?"
"My dear Jewel, what is the matter? You look as if something dreadful had happened," exclaimed the matron.
"Yes, indeed you do," chimed in Edith and Io, as both came up to her in consternation.
"Somethinghashappened!" Jewel cried, angrily. She flung herself into a cushioned chair, and continued: "Laurie has proved false to me! He has followed that girl to Washington!"
She flung his note into Mrs. Meredith's lap, and the stately matron adjusted her glasses in great trepidation, and ran over it quickly.
"But, my dear Jewel, he does not say anything here about going to Washington. He says, called away on business," she remonstrated, gently.
"Pshaw! a blind, a weak, transparent excuse!" Jewel answered, in a sharp, high-pitched voice. "Pray tell me what excuse he made to you!"
The warm color mounted to Mrs. Meredith's cheek at this haughty arraignment; but making excuses to herself for the girl's excitement, which evidently arose from jealousy, she answered:
"He told me that he was called South by some very important business, the nature of which he could not explain until his return."
"Humph, I should think not! He was ashamed to confess to his mother that he was running after anothergirl, leaving his betrothed at home to fret her heart out!" sneered Jewel, so bitterly that Io Meredith exclaimed, resentfully:
"Jewel, I think you ought to be ashamed to accuse my brother of such disgraceful conduct. I would have you understand that he is a gentleman, not a dastard!"
"Let me alone, Io Meredith! I shall say what I like about your brother! He is behaving shamefully! Do you think I did not know that he was madly in love with Azalia Brooke? He showed it so plainly that every one noticed it. You can not deny that!"
No one spoke, for Jewel's shot told. It was quite true that Laurie Meredith had betrayed so much interest in the lovely English girl as to excite comment. His mother had remonstrated with him gently but decidedly.
"I can not help myself. It is fate," he had answered, in such a despairing voice, and with such a miserable look that she had not the heart to pursue the subject further, although quite sure that his interest in Azalia Brooke was so strong as to be a wrong to Jewel Fielding.
"It will wear off, this sudden fancy, when sweet Azalia is gone," she thought to herself; and it was with a feeling of relief that she heard of the betrothal of Azalia and Lord Clive.
She asked herself anxiously now if it could be true, as Jewel suspected, that her son had followed Azalia Brooke to Washington. Her heart said no, for although he had been weak enough to lose his head over her despite his engagement to another, she felt assured that his passion had been hopeless from first to last, and that he had struggled against it in vain.
She could not help feeling sorry for her son and for the dark-eyed girl who loved him with such jealous passion.
With it all there was mixed a little self-reproach, for had she not pitied Jewel so much that she had persuaded her son to make an effort to return the girl's affection?
Out of her anxiety had grown that engagement. He had yielded to her wishes, engaged himself to Jewel, and here were the consequences.
He had been too hasty, and when the girl, whom he could have loved with his whole heart, crossed his path, it was too late.
"And he might have won her, who knows?" she thought; for her keen eyes had noted that Azalia Brooke took a secret and curious interest in Laurie Meredith.
But something must be done to soothe the excited Jewel, and after a moment's silence, the matron said, gently:
"My dear girl, I am sure that you wrong Laurie by your suspicions. He is too honorable a man to deceive you and outrage your affections in such a cruel manner. I am convinced that he has gone South, as he stated to me, and that you will soon hear from him at a distance from Washington."
"And I am quite sure that he has gone to Washington, madame, to be near the girl I hate so bitterly, and I came here to inform you that I intend to follow him within twenty-four hours!" replied Jewel, with startling emphasis, springing to her feet and beginning to walk rapidly up and down the long room with swift, graceful movements that reminded the Merediths of the sinuous grace of the beautiful, deadly tigress.
These cultured, highly refined ladies gazed in amazement and consternation at Laurie's betrothed, and Edith cried out, indignantly:
"Really, Jewel, you must be out of your senses! What will people say?"
The beautiful pantheress paused a moment in her wild walk, and gazing at the speaker with lurid eyes, exclaimed:
"That will depend upon your mother and you, Edith and Io. If she will consent to go with me to Washington,taking you with her, no one can say anything. If she will not go, people will say that I was wronged and jealous and that I went after my recreant lover."
"Jewel, you must not go!" Mrs. Meredith exclaimed, with mixed entreaty and command, but the girl laughed wildly.
"I will go, if I die for it," she said, fiercely. "He has driven me mad by his love for another, and I am not answerable for what I do. Yes, I shall follow him, and if I find him there by her side I shall be tempted to kill them both!" and she sunk upon the floor in wild hysterics.
Her jealous wrath, her wild threats, ended as she meant they should. The Merediths were forced into compliance with her wishes. They could not persuade her to remain at home, and they dared not let her go alone.
But this terrible revelation of her mind and temper thoroughly disgusted the Merediths, and made them anxious over Laurie's future.
"Who would have dreamed that she was such a shrew? Why, there was murder in her eyes as they flashed and glowed. She will lead our brother a miserable life, I am sure," Edith said to her sister, as they hurriedly packed their trunks for the unexpected visit to the Capital City.
"Yes, and how sweet and gentle she seemed to be before she was sure of Laurie. She was deceiving us all, then, in order to forward her cause, and she succeeded so well, too, for we all praised her to Laurie, and gave him no peace until he proposed to her. How she takes on the airs of a queen. I should not be sorry if Laurie would jilt her outright!" Io declared, spiritedly.
But, reckless in her fierce wrath and jealousy of their good or bad opinion, Jewel had gone home to prepare forher trip. She rang the bell furiously for Marie to come and pack her things.
No one responded at first; but when she went angrily down-stairs to inquire for the delinquent, Mrs. Wellings started up from her doze in the arm-chair to ask, stupidly:
"Is that you, Miss Fielding? Do—do you want me?"
"No," Jewel said, with a contemptuous glance at the dull face, "I want Marie!"
"Oh!" said Mrs. Wellings.
"Do you know where she is?" continued Jewel, with wild impatience.
"No, I do not, I'm sure," said the only half-awakened woman. Then she started and muttered, "Oh, I forgot, she came in here soon after you went away. She was dressed for going out, and she gave me this letter to hand to you as soon as you returned," placing a sealed envelope in Jewel's eagerly outstretched palm.
Jewel was terribly afraid of the maid who held her awful secret in possession. She ran upstairs with a wildly throbbing heart, wondering what her absence and the letter combined could mean.
But she would soon know; for her nervous fingers eagerly tore the end of the envelope across, and her blazing eyes soon devoured the contents, which stated, in an oddmélangeof French and English, that the writer feared to remain any longer in her employ, as she did not consider her life secure while in the power of a lady whose deadly secret she held. She had been joking about the three hundred dollars per month wages, as no sum could have been large enough to tempt her to stay. She had made arrangements to enter the service of a young English lady, and would be gone before Miss Fielding's return. Lastly, she would ease Miss Fielding's conscience by telling her that the poor girl she had flung into the cellar was not dead—only stunned—and that she, Marie, had resuscitated her and helped her away. If Miss Fielding would takethe trouble to look in the cellar, she would see for herself. Lastly, Miss Fielding need not be afraid that Marie would betray her sin to the world, as she had faithfully promised the golden-haired lady that she would keep the secret.
Marie did not add that a bountiful golden bribe had bought her silence; but Jewel readily guessed it, knowing the French girl's cupidity. She tore the letter into a hundred fragments after she had impressed its contents on her furious brain, and for a few moments her wrath was something fearful—so near akin to madness that it recalled to her mind the terrible spells of her mother in those first days after she had discovered her rival's child to be blue-eyed Flower, whom she had always loved best in her secret heart, because of the two girls, she resembled her father most—the man whose memory Mrs. Fielding had alternately loved and hated.
Frightened at the thought of going mad, Jewel ceased her wild raving, and tried to look her fate fairly in the face.
One of the first conclusions to which her mind leaped was that Azalia Brooke was no other than her half-sister, Flower. She had come to see her in disguise that night, pleading poverty, when in reality she had been the heiress of Lord Ivon and the toast of the city. Ah, and Jewel's hand clutched at the empty air in impotent passion, how she regretted that her work had failed her that afternoon, and that Marie had rescued her victim from death! It was well indeed for cunning Marie that she was out of reach of Miss Fielding's vengeance.
But, Jewel asked herself, wonderingly, why had not Flower claimed her husband? She had certainly recognized him, and she knew that it was his father's death she had read in the paper that terrible night. Why then hadFlower kept the secret of her identity, and even betrothed herself to another?
Jewel's mind could furnish but one solution to that strange problem.
Flower had been adopted in some mysterious manner by the old nobleman and his wife, and was ambitious of shining in the world. She doubted whether she had ever been really Laurie's wife, and did not wish for him to recognize her, fearing that it would ruin her brilliant prospects in life. She intended to let Laurie Meredith believe her dead, while in reality she would be alive, the wife of an earl, one of the most beautiful countesses in England.
Jewel choked with anger at the thought of the despised Flower attaining such lofty heights, but even that was better than to reveal herself to Laurie Meredith.
"Yes, far better, for I would rather have him than a king!" she thought, that stormy love of hers always rising superior to every other ambition. She decided that she would go to Washington, seek an interview with Flower, and tell her that she recognized her, but would keep her secret if she would return at once to England and marry Lord Clive. If she refused, and the beautiful face grew dark with passion at the thought, Jewel told herself, in a vindictive whisper, that her rival must be removed at all hazards from her path.
Her plans thus laid, she called in the house-maid to assist in packing her trunks, picturing to herself the alarm of her lover when he should find that she had followed him to Washington.
"I will make him understand, once for all, that I am not to be trifled with by any one," she told herself, angrily, and with a bitter wonder at her failure to win Laurie Meredith's heart.
"And I so beautiful, so wondrously beautiful," she thought, pausing a moment to gaze at her reflection inthe glass—at her flashing dark eyes, her red lips and cheeks, her braided coronal of purplish jet-black hair.
"I am beautiful enough to be a queen, yet I can not win the heart of the only man I ever cared for," she thought, with a sort of agony at her failure.
But every pang she suffered only made her more determined to triumph in the end.
"Only let me get Flower out of the way, and I may win him yet. I was near to it when she came, and surely I can recover my lost ground some day," she said.
She was driven in her carriage to Mrs. Meredith's, and found them waiting, although they hoped that she would change her mind even at the last moment.
But no, Jewel took her seat in the train as grim and implacable as fate itself, and determined as ever to make all else on earth yield to her imperious will and desire.
The Merediths, thoroughly disgusted at her jealous freak, sat with her; but there was very little said by any one. But Jewel scarcely noticed the constraint and silence of Laurie's mother and sisters. She was completely wrapped up in her own dark thoughts, and remained so until they reached the end of their long journey.
Lord Ivon and his party had been in Washington a week, when they became aware that the Merediths, with Miss Fielding, had also arrived in the city.
It was on one of Patti's nights at the opera that the two parties became aware of each other's presence in opposite stage-boxes. Their first start of surprise was succeeded on either hand by amicable nods of pleased recognition.
This was Jewel Fielding's rôle, and she had insisted on its being carried out to the letter by the Merediths. Shedid not desire that any one should know yet of her fierce jealousy of Azalia Brooke. Time enough yet, she said.
They had been in the city one day and night, and careful inquiry revealed the fact that the absent Laurie was not in this city. The Merediths were jubilant, but Jewel would not allow them to boast over their triumph.
"He will come yet, if Lord Ivon's party stays here any time," she said.
And it occurred to her that she must hasten to get rid of her lovely, blue-eyed rival before the return of Laurie.
The color leaped to her face, and her heart throbbed with fierce anger when she first beheld Azalia Brooke sitting in the opera-box with Lord Clive by her side, and Lord and Lady Ivon in the background.
Azalia's loveliness shone with all the luster of a beautiful pearl from her shining robe of silvery-blue satin and misty lace, and her perfect identity with the Flower Fielding of old struck her half-sister more strongly than ever.
"How could I ever have been fooled for a minute into doubting her identity? The resemblance is perfect, complete, and it is wonderful that Laurie has not recognized her, and taxed her with it," she thought.
She had taken pains to convince herself of the truth of Marie's story. She had peered into the old cellar, which was clear of water now, during a spell of continued clear weather, and she had seen no body of a murdered girl lying there in ghastly decay, but only the old black water-proof cloak, which, floating on the top of the water, had so deceived her before. Of course, her wily foes had left it there for that purpose, as she well knew now.
After her one smile and nod at the party in the other box she sat silent, glowering at Patti, who was enchanting the vast house with her exquisite voice. Jewel scarcely heard it at all. She was listening to other voices, impish, seducing ones, which said:
"You ought to crush that girl from the face of theearth. You will never have any peace until you do, for she is the evil genius of your life. Why hesitate or falter? It was born in you both to hate each other. Your mothers were rivals and foes. Her mother wrecked the peace of yours. Will you let this girl, with her siren glance, cross your path with the same fatal intent?"
Lord Clive, when he could spare a glance from Azalia or thediva, looked at the handsome trio in the opposite box, and presently he said:
"Miss Fielding is not as handsome as she was in Boston. She seems almost to have grown thinner, and her eyes, though bright, have a worn, haggard look, and her expression is strange and hard. Do you observe it, Azalia?"
Azalia was obliged to answer in the affirmative. No one could deny the change that terror and unrestrained jealousy and passion had worn in distinctive lines on Jewel's beautiful lineaments. It was too plain to deny. She looked years older and graver than a few weeks ago.
Azalia had grown more grave and sad, too; but she tried to hide it from her relatives and her lover. Not for worlds would she have had them know that she was restless and unhappy, almost beyond all bearing, since her constrained parting with Laurie Meredith.
She could not help feeling gratified when she saw the lines of pain and unrest on the features of her cruel half-sister.
"She has won him from me; but she is not happy," was her conclusion. "I wonder where he is to-night. I should like to see him again. False and fickle as I know him to be, the old fascination steals over me when I look at his beautiful, regular profile, his clear, brown eyes, and the soft waves of hair that I used to thread with loving fingers. Of course he came with them to Washington, and I suppose the reason of Jewel's angry looks is because for some reason he could not, or would not, come to theopera with her to-night. She is a tyrant, and will rule him with a rod of iron, that half-sister of mine! Well, I do not pity him. He may learn in time to regretme, and that will be my vengeance for his cruelty!"
She sighed bitterly; and Lord Clive, who had been looking into the opposite box, started, and turned back to look at her.
"I beg your pardon for my inattention, dearest," he murmured, tenderly.
Azalia threw off her depression, and answered, gayly:
"I shall be quite jealous of Miss Fielding if you continue to gaze at her with such admiring eyes."
His blue eyes gleamed with pleasure at the bare idea of jealousy on the part of this cold, proud fiancée.
"I was not even looking at Miss Fielding," he protested. "It was the elder Miss Meredith that attracted my attention. My dear Azalia, the girl, with her brown eyes and tawny hair, and that stately carriage, is really a beauty. She reminds me of the Duchess De Vere, one of the loveliest ladies in London."
Azalia looked with pleasure at stately Edith Meredith, and also at the pretty andpetiteIo. Both had a look of Laurie that always made her traitor heart beat quick and fast.
All the evening her anxious eyes kept straying to the box. Would he not come in during the whole time?
No, he did not come, to her bitter disappointment; and the next day she heard, with surprise, that he had not accompanied his party to Washington at all, but had gone South on some important business.
Face to face with her half-sister at last, with all pretenses laid aside, Jewel had never spent a more uncomfortable hour in her life.
She had sent a note requesting a private interview the day after the meeting at the opera, and Azalia Brooke had granted it on the condition that her maid should be present at the interview, stationed in an anteroom with doors open between, so that she could see if not hear all that passed.
Jewel had to consent to the humiliating condition; and when she made her appearance was not surprised to find her runaway Maria seated complacently in the anteroom with a malicious grin upon her pretty face.
"She knows so many of our secrets already that I thought it would not matter having her here as a precautionary measure for my own safety," Miss Brooke proclaimed, frankly; and as Jewel frowned darkly upon her, she added, coolly: "Yes, I am Flower, as you charged in your note; but I would not own it to you, only that I know you are as anxious to keep my secret as I could be myself."
"You do wish to keep it, then?" Jewel sneered, vindictively.
"Yes, I wish to keep it," the other answered, and a passionate despair thrilled in her low, sweet voice. "Lord Ivon is very proud, and it is hard for him to bear the stain upon my birth. I think it would kill him if he knew that other dark story of man's deceit and betrayed love."
"Tell me how and where you met Lord Ivon, and why he adopted you," her half-sister said, curiously; and in as few words as possible Azalia Brooke related the story.
"So you really are related to that distinguished family?" her half-sister exclaimed, in palpable chagrin.
"Yes; and I have a horror of their ever knowing the whole of my sad story, so I have deceived them, but it is for their own good."
Jewel could not repress a sneer, as she said:
"I thought you too goody-goody to deceive them so, although I remember now that you kept your intimacy with Laurie Meredith hid to the last from your mother, asyou then believed her to be. But do you really intend to carry your brazenness so far as to marry Lord Clive without confessing the truth?"
"Oh, Jewel, I can never marry Lord Clive! I never meant to do it, but I promised it to pique Laurie, to force him to a self-betrayal, if possible. He was sitting near by. Lord Clive did not know it, but I did. I thought if Laurie loved me still, that if I were really his wife, he would claim me at once. And so—Heaven forgive me—I toyed with a man's heart just as mine had been treated. I promised to marry Lord Clive, and when I found that Laurie did not care, I almost died of chagrin and repentance. Of course, I can never marry Lord Clive—I, with my soiled fame and broken heart, but day by day I put off the telling—because—because—he loves me so, and it is so hard to wound him—him, and those good people who have taken me to their heart, forgiving the dark stain upon my birth."
"You are a fool, Flower Fielding, as I've often told you before. Why, there's nothing to prevent your marrying the man. I will keep your secret if you will go back to England and marry him."
"I can not do it," Flower answered, sorrowfully. "Even if there was nothing else, it would be a sin to marry him, with my heart full of love for another."
"Another man!"
"Yes, Jewel," and the girl suddenly fell down upon her knees before the frowning, dark-faced beauty. "Oh, my sister," she wailed, "have you not guessed my bitter secret? I love Laurie still, in spite of my wrongs, in spite of my pride! Oh, tell me, is it really true that I was never his wife, or have you deceived me? Have you both deceived me, because he grew weary of me so soon? How did you win him from me after all his vows?"
Jewel gazed into the tear-wet, suppliant face, with anger and consternation. It was worse than she thought.Her sister actually dared to love Laurie Meredith still! Why, she was courting her doom by that candid avowal!
And, as if to incense her still further, the unhappy girl continued, wildly:
"I know I ought to hate him, but I can not do it, no matter how hard I try; and I think it is because I can never seem to comprehend him as he really is. My love seems to glorify him and make him better than other men, while in reality he is worse. But I have loved him so—and he was the father of my child, you know, Jewel, and it was such a lovely little baby! Oh, Jewel, could you but have seen my little Douglas, with his own papa's lovely brown eyes, you must have loved him, and been kinder to me. It was not my fault Laurie loved me first."
"Hush! Get up!" Jewel hissed, with such murderous fury in her face and glance that her half-sister started up in terror of her life, and retreated toward the anteroom. "Come back, you coward!" Jewel exclaimed, harshly, "I am not going to kill you, unless you talk to me in such a strain again. But if you did, and there were a hundred present, I believe I should fly at you."
Flower shivered through all her slender frame at those cruel words, and sunk down sobbing bitterly into a chair.
Jewel glared at her in fierce displeasure, a few moments, then said, in low, cutting accents:
"You had as well go back to England and marry your grand lover, for Laurie Meredith is as dead to you as if the grass was indeed growing on his grave. Do you think he did not recognize you? He laughed with me about it, and said that he had half a mind to give Lord Clive a hint of your character. I persuaded him not to do so, telling him it was unfair after the way he had treated you."
"He could say that? Oh, my God! he could menace me like that?" Flower whispered, with a strange gleam in her dilated eyes.
"Yes, he could do so. That is nothing. It is the way of men," Jewel replied, indifferently.
She went away at last, having utterly failed in all her efforts to cajole Flower into a solemn promise to marry Lord Clive.
"I could not deceive him so, and I am too proud to confess my bitter secret to him; so, in a short while I shall break my engagement," the girl said, with sorrowful firmness.
Jewel repressed all expression of her hate for her half-sister as much as possible. She wanted to be on good terms with her in order to further her own nefarious designs.
But it was very hard to keep her temper when the poor girl, meekly dismissing her own grievances, asked, eagerly:
"Jewel, do you ever go to see mam—I mean your mother?"
"No, never! I stood her ravings at home until I became almost as mad as she was, and I have no fancy for a second experience! The doctor keeps me posted as to her condition."
"But, Jewel, will you not go and see her once? I do not believe she is mad now, for even so long ago as that day in the grave-yard she seemed to me almost sane. And, with kind treatment, she ought to have been cured by this time. Poor soul! I feel so sorry for her. I can not forget that she gave me a mother's love for seventeen years."
"The doctor never told me of her escape that time," Jewel said, angrily.
"He looked like a bad man," Flower said. "Perhaps she is in her right mind now, and you ought to take her away into a pleasant home and make her life endurable."
An angry frown drew Jewel's brows together.
"Oh, stop your preaching!" she exclaimed, impatiently. "Mamma is incurably insane, and will never come out of that asylum alive!" and with that she took her leave, smiling wickedly as she went along the broad corridors of the large hotel.
Flower began to pace quickly up and down the room, but was arrested by Marie, who caught her arm and held her back.
"Look there upon the floor, Miss Brooke," she said. "Ah, she was vair cunning. She thought we did not see her place the little box under the chair, when she stooped to arrange her skirts! Ugh, it is no doubt a dynamite bomb!"
"Ah, no, no, Marie, she could not dothat, and she my half-sister!" shuddered Flower.
"And your rival," added the French maid, knowingly. "See, mademoiselle, you will come into the anteroom. I will open the back window which looks down on a brick-paved yard. There is no one near. Wait, I will bring the little box very careful, afraid of my life. I toss it from the window. See!"
The box, only half as long as her hand, a simple, innocent-looking thing, was hurled quickly from the window. There was the swift sound of a crash on the pavement, followed by a loud explosion. Marie shut down the window with a bang, and caught the trembling figure in her arms.
"You understand, ma'amselle, that your rival is fully determined to sweep you from her path," she said, warningly. "If you had struck your little foot sharply against that box in walking, or drawn forward the chair over it, there must have been an explosion that would have ended both your life and mine!"
Flower shuddered and hid her pallid face in her hands, wondering at the wickedness of her half-sister.
"But I was watching very close," Maria continued, complacently. "This is twice I've foiled that wicked woman. You must look to yourself, my gentle-hearted lady, for terrible danger lurks near you. She fears and hates you, and she will keep on trying to kill you. If you take my advice you will deliver her up to the authorities."
"Oh, how can I do that? She is my sister! Besides,heloves her, Marie!" Flower sighed.
"And shows vair bad taste, in my opinion, ma'amselle," the maid replied, candidly, and added, "and you show vair poor judgment in letting her go free."