CHAPTER XXIX.HER LOVE.
Hers is the love which keepsA constant watch-fire light,With a flame that never sleepsThrough the longest winter night.—Eliza Cook.
Hers is the love which keepsA constant watch-fire light,With a flame that never sleepsThrough the longest winter night.—Eliza Cook.
Hers is the love which keepsA constant watch-fire light,With a flame that never sleepsThrough the longest winter night.—Eliza Cook.
Hers is the love which keeps
A constant watch-fire light,
With a flame that never sleeps
Through the longest winter night.—Eliza Cook.
Meanwhile, Drusilla slept long and deeply, like one much worn in mind and body. It was afternoon when she opened her eyes. She saw Pina sitting by her side. At first, she thought it was yet early in the morning, and that she had awakened at her usual hour, and she wondered why her maid should be watching by her bed; but in another moment, memory returned and reminded her of all the events of the day. And she thought of Alexander’s loving kindness to her, and she smiled with delight. Then she asked:
“Where is Mr. Lyon?”
“He is gone to town, ma’am,” answered Pina.
The little lady’s face fell. Its gladness was all gone in an instant.
“Gone to town again, Pina?” she repeated in a sad tone.
“Yes, ma’am, which he told me to tell you, as he was unwillin’ compelled for to go, and which he would be sure to come back very early,” said the girl, in her good nature; adding a little to her master’s message.
“Oh! did he say that, Pina? Did he say he would come back very early? Are you sure, Pina?” And the little face brightened up again.
“Sure as sure, ma’am; which ‘very early’ was his very words,” said Pina, telling a little white lie.
“What time is it now?”
“Near five, ma’am.”
“Then he will soon be here,” she said. And strengthened by this hope, she threw off the counterpane, and got out of bed.
With the help of her maid she dressed herself as carefully to please her husband’s taste, as a maiden might to attract a lover’s eyes.
Then she went down stairs to see if the drawing-room was made comfortable for the evening. She found that Leo had done his duty in the matter. The fire in the grate was burning brightly; the hearth was shining clearly; the deep sofa was drawn up on one side of the chimney, and the easy chair on the other, and the round table was placed between them. The front blinds were left as usual unclosed until the master’s return; but the crimson curtains were drawn before the windows. The chandelier was lighted, and its rays were reflected back by the pictured walls, the gilded mirrors and the glowing draperies of the room, so that the little retreat looked very cozy and home-like.
“Yes, this is all very well; but there are no flowers,” said this loving little wife; (for wife we must call her, notwithstanding Mr. Alick’s discovery;) and she went into her small conservatory and cut a few fragrant tea roses and lemon geraniums, and arranged them in a beautiful group, and placed them in a vase, and set them on the round table.
And then she opened her piano and selected from her music some of her husband’s favorite pieces, and laid them in readiness.
“He is so fond of music, and he likes my voice and touch, and yet he so seldom hears me sing or play now. Perhaps he will to-night, though,” she said, as she sat down to try the tone of her long neglected instrument.
She had taken no food since morning, for in fact, her long sleep had kept her from feeling the want of it; butsoon she felt faint from hunger, and she got up to ring the bell for a cup of tea.
But Pina, who had not forgotten her mistress’s needs, was even now on her way to the drawing-room with the tea tray.
She brought it in and sat it down on the table, and stood waiting orders.
“Did your master say he would be home to dinner, Pina?” the little lady asked.
“No, ma’am; he said ‘very early’ tome. And when Leo asked him if dinner should be prepared for him, he said ‘no,’ and that he should ‘be home to an early tea,’” the girl replied.
“Then, here; I will only take half a cup of that oolong and half a biscuit to keep me up till he comes, for I wish to take tea with him this evening,” said the little wife, as she hastily took the bit and sup she spoke of.
“Now, take this down, Pina; and listen,” she added, as she pushed away the tray. “Have a very nice tea got ready—the oolong and the imperial, mixed half and half as he likes it; and make some sweet muffins; and slice that venison tongue; and open those West India sweetmeats, especially the preserved green figs and the pineapples. Do you hear?”
“Yes, madam.”
“And will you remember all?”
“Yes, madam, I will be sure to.”
Pina left the room, and her mistress resumed her practising.
She went over all his favorite pieces in turn, stopping at the end of each to go to the window, and watch and listen.
But hour after hour passed by, and still he for whom she looked came not. As night deepened, her spirits sank.
“Perhaps he will not come at all,” she said, with a sigh. “Something keeps him that he cannot help,” she added, in excuse for him.
When the clock struck ten she could hardly keep back her tears.
“He will not be home until very late, even if he comes to-night,” she said, with a deep sob, as she closed the piano and sat down by the fire.
She waited then for her servants to come as usual for orders, before bidding her good night. Then, as they did not appear, she rang for them.
And when Pina entered, her mistress said:
“It is long past your bed time.”
“I know it, madam; but master, he gave us such a rowing for leaving you alone last night, after you had been frightened the night before, that Leo and me, we daren’t go. We’ll sit in the kitchen, if you please, ma’am, or wait in the hall, as you order, until the master returns.”
“He may not be able to get home to-night.”
“Then, please, ma’am, we’ll have to sit up and watch, or sleep anywhere in the house as you’ll appoint.”
Drusilla reflected for a moment, and then said:
“You may sit up in the kitchen for an hour longer, and then come to me for orders.”
The girl left the room, and her mistress sank back in her resting chair, repeating to herself,
“He knows that I am ill and nervous, and almost unprotected here; and he left me word he would be back early. Oh, surely he will keep his promise, in part, at least, by coming back some time to-night. He will if he can! I am sure he will, if he can!” she added, confidingly.
But as the next hour wore slowly on, her long tried courage utterly broke down, and she bowed her head upon the table and wept bitterly.
The clock was striking eleven, when two sounds from opposite ways struck her ear. One was the galloping of a horse’s feet coming to the house. The other was the running of her servants up the back stairs.
Drusilla hastily wiped her eyes as Pina entered the room.
“Your master has come. Send Leo around to the stable to take his horse, and do you bring up the supper-tray,” she said.
And the girl left the room to obey orders; but before going down stairs she went and unlocked the front door, and set it slightly ajar, that her master might enter at once when he should reach the house.
Drusilla meanwhile tried to still the spasmodic sobs that were yet heaving her bosom, and to force back the tears that were yet wetting her eyes, and to put on a pleasant face to meet her beloved. But it is not so easy all at once to suppress nervous excitement.
So when Alexander hurried through the hall door, locking it as he passed, and hurried into the drawing-room to see her, she was still sobbing and weeping.
He stopped short in surprise and some anger.
“Why, Drusa! why, what is all this row about?”
“Oh, Alick, Alick!” she gasped, her nerves being all unstrung, “I did not think you would have stayed away from me to-night! I have been waiting for you so long, as I have waited for you so often! oh, so often!”
“Is that meant for a reproach, Drusilla?” he asked, coldly, as he dropped into a chair.
“Oh, no, Alick! no dear, no! but I can not—can not help it!”
And she cried harder than ever.
“Well, this is a pretty way to meet a man, upon my word, after he has taken a long cold ride to see you,” said Mr. Lyon, angrily.
“I didn’t mean it, Alick! Indeed I didn’t, dear! I tried hard to help it; but I couldn’t. I broke down,” she cried, sobbing heavily between her words.
“Humph, this is pleasant, upon my soul,” he said, grimly, watching her without making one attempt to soothe her.
“I know—I know how bad it is in me to do so, Alick dear, and I’m trying to stop it; indeed I am. Bear with me a little, dear; I will stop soon, indeed I will,” she sobbed.
“I hope it will be very soon. This looks very much as if you were accusing me of misusing you, Drusilla; do you mean to say that I do?”
“Oh, no, no, no, Alick! I never even thought so! You are very good to me. It is not your fault, dear; it is mine. I don’t know what ails me that I cry so much at such little things. I feel like a baby that wants its mother’s lap,” she said, with a still heaving bosom.
“That is very childish, Drusilla,” he answered, in a harsh, unsympathizing manner.
“I know it is, dear. I am sorry I am so foolish; it is because I am so, so lonely, Alick. Oh, so lonely, dear, you can’t think; it is like death—like heart-break. But it is not your fault, dear; I don’t mean that; don’t you think that. You are not to blame, Alick; it is I. But then, dear, think of this, and bear with me a little. I have no one in the wide world but only you; and when you are away all is so still, so silent—oh, so dreary you don’t know. If I only had a mother to turn to when I feel so weak and foolish, and so lonesome—if I could only lay my head down on my mother’s shoulder when you are away, and cry a little I should be better; I should be all right when you should return home. But I have no mother to go to, Alick.”
“If you had she would box your ears for such nonsense; that is, if I remember the old lady rightly,” said Alexander, brutally, as he arose from his chair and walked the room.
But her nervous excitement was now subsiding. Her tears ceased to flow; her sobs were softer. Presently she wiped her eyes, and, smiling like sunshine through raindrops, she said:
“It is all over now, Alick dear, all quite over. It was only a summer gust, dear, and it did me no harm; and you will excuse it this once, Alick?”
“I shall hardly know how to do so if this exhibition is ever to be repeated,” he growled.
“I hope it never will be, Alick,” she said, with a subsiding sigh, as she arose and touched the bell.
“Drusilla, if you knew as much as I do you would very carefully avoid giving me any annoyance,” he said, in so meaning a manner that her hand dropped from the bell-pull, and she turned to him in dismay, and, gazing on him, asked:
“What is it that you know, Alick, dear? Indeed I never wish to annoy you. But what is it you mean, dear?”
“No matter! You will know some day; all too soon whenever that day shall come,” he said, evasively.
“But, Alick dear, you frighten me. Please what is it?”
“No matter what. Let the subject drop, Drusilla,” he replied, repenting the cruelty that made him allude to the guilty secret of his own breast.
“But, dear Alick——” she re-commenced.
“Let the subject drop, I say,” he interrupted her, in a tone so peremptory that she immediately bowed her head and obeyed.
And Pina now entered the room with the tray, and laid the cloth for supper. And having done so she retired.
When Mr. Lyon had supped to his satisfaction, and felt himself in a better humor, he turned around to the blazing fire, and said:
“I have a mind to sit up and watch to-night for that face at the window”
“Do, dear Alick, if you are not too tired,” she answered.
“And I will sit with my revolver by my side.”
“Yes, do; and with me also.”
“But you are not able to sit up.”
“Oh, yes, I am. You know I slept nearly all day. And I do wish to watch with you.”
“So be it then. But we must draw the curtains back from the windows, as they were last night and all nights before. Who closed them to-night?”
“Leo did, I suppose, to keep the face from looking in and frightening me again. And I did not change the arrangement, because I reflected that you could see the light almost as well through these fine crimson curtains as glass itself.”
“That is true. It is a pity you or one of your servants had not thought of this before. It would have saved you a fright.”
“But, Alick, dear, if any dangerous person were lurking about the premises, is it not better that I should have detected him, even at the cost of a fright, than that he should be let to go on and do the mischief he is plotting, whatever that is?”
“There is something in what you say, my brave little wi—woman,” he answered.
She did not perceive how he caught and corrected his words, for she was busy drawing back the curtains of one window, while he did the like with those of the other.
Alexander went and got his small revolver from the pocket of his riding coat and laid it on the table beside him. And then they sat down to wait the issue.
At first they talked a little in low voices. Alexander would make Drusilla tell him again and again the particulars of her two frights. But she had so little to tell.
“Only a white stern face, looking in at me through the dark window.”
Alexander questioned her as to the hour of its appearance.
“It was at two o’clock on the first night. And at one o’clock on the second night,” she answered.
“Exactly; and if it keeps on coming an hour later each night, it will appear at twelve precisely to-night. And it now wants just ten minutes to that time,” said Alexander, with a laugh.
Then he questioned her as to her thoughts, feelings and occupations at the time she saw the face.
Drusilla replied that she was reading, and confessed that she was thinking of supernatural beings and feeling a little afraid of looking over her shoulder.
“Precisely; and now let me ask youwhatwere you reading?”
“I had been reading ‘The Night Side of Nature,’” replied Drusilla.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Alexander, “the secret is out! The face at the window was an optical illusion created by your over-excited imagination. Next time, my little love, read Scott’s ‘Demonology.’ It will be a perfect antidote to the ‘Night Side of Nature.’ I don’t wonder, poor child! that you were afraid to look over your shoulder, or that you saw faces glaring at you through dark windows. I wonder you didn’t see a spectral face grinning through every single pane of glass. Ha! ha! ha!”
“Ha! ha! ha!” echoed another voice—a strange, harsh, unearthly voice.
Alexander started and looked at his companion, who was pale as death.
“Ha! ha! ha!” shouted the voice again.
He then seized his revolver and turned quickly to the window whence the voice seemed to come.
“Ha! ha! ha!” it shrieked a third time, as Alexander caught a glimpse of a ghastly, grinning face that showed itself for an instant at the window, and he levelled his pistol. But as he fired it, it dropped and disappeared.
“Stay here while I search the grounds,” whispered Mr. Lyon to his panic-stricken companion.
And revolver still in hand, he ran out of the house.
Drusilla sat with her hands clasped tightly together, her face white as a sheet and her heart half paralyzed with fright. She had not long to wait. A pistol shot, followed by another and another in quick succession, startled her. With a wild cry she sprang to her feet and rushed out to the help of her husband.