CHAPTER XXVI.ENID CHICHESTER.

CHAPTER XXVI.ENID CHICHESTER.

As Ralph withdrew from the presence of those heart-broken women, and was swiftly passing along the narrow corridor to his own apartment, he ran against a fairy form.

She was half enveloped in a cloud of gauzy, spotless lace and dainty ribbons, which she carried in her arms.

With a startled cry, she staggered and would have fallen, had not his quickly outstretched hand caught and upheld her.

Ralph was rewarded by a sweet “thank you,” and a glimpse of a pair of lovely purple-black eyes, which for a moment were roguishly upturned to his, and then vailed beneath their long silken fringes, which drooped low upon her fair, soft cheek.

“I beg your pardon, lady,” said he, gallantly, as he noted her exceeding beauty. “It was very awkward in me to be so heedless.”

“No harm done, sir, except the tumbling of my laces a little. And that my dear maid can easily remedy,” replied the girl, in clear, bell-like tones, while a deeper color suffused her face, as she noticed the look of ardent admiration.

Her manner was that of a high-bred lady, while her pure English accent showed her to be of that origin.

“May I ask is this in honor of the bridal to-night?” he cunningly asked, as he touched the finery in her arms.

“Yes,” and she laughed a little gleeful laugh; then added, “We do not often have an opportunity to grace a wedding here, so all are striving to look their sweetest and best to-night.”

“You say we; are there more young ladies like yourself here?”

“Yes, oh, yes,” with a deep sigh and a look of sadness. “There are seven, besides the poor young lady who was brought here last evening, and who is to be forced into a marriage to-night.”

“How do you know that the lady is opposed to the union?” he asked, flushing deeply.

“Oh, we found it out, through Nina, who is my maid, and whom I lent to wait upon this unfortunate lady. She says she is the loveliest person she has ever seen, and my faithful girl sobbed like a child while telling me of it.”

“Does she not even except her fair mistress, when she lavishes so much praise upon the captive?” asked Ralph, with a gaze she could not misinterpret.

“Ah! but Nina loves me, and besides, I do not allow her to flatter!” replied the little lady, with an air of reserved dignity.

“I beg pardon again. I realize that I am very unfortunate to-day in my words, as well as my motions. But do you know the gentleman whom this fair young girl is to wed?”

“No, but I think him a heartless wretch!” she returned, with blazing cheeks and flashing eyes, while her little foot came down with a decided pat upon the floor.

“Why so, my little friend?”

“If I were a man do you think I would wish to marry a girl who scorned my love? If it be for revenge that he wishes to wed her, and darken forever her bright younglife, why, he is more vile than aught else in the world. But to profess to love and wed one who loathed me, my pride would never let me bow so low as that!”

“But,” urged Ralph, uneasily, “look at the case in a different light. Suppose this man had taken a solemn oath that this lovely being should be his wife, what then?”

This little dark-eyed lady was showing him up in colors, altogether too truthful to be agreeable, though he could but admire her for her spirit and honesty, and already he felt his passion for Dora beginning to cool beneath the charms of the more brilliant, yet not more lovely, girl by his side.

“I should say,” she replied, in answer to his question, “that his oath was a most unworthy one, and were better broken than kept. But excuse me. I forget that I am talking very plainly to an entire stranger,” and with a haughty little bow she was turning away when his voice arrested her.

“Stay, please, and I will introduce myself according to rule. I should have done so before, but my awkwardness in obstructing your path has put to flight all my ideas of etiquette. I am Ralph Moulton, at your service.”

He bowed low and gracefully before her as he spoke, for, in spite of her surroundings, he recognized her as a lady noble and pure. Then he added, “Will you kindly return the favor?”

“Certainly. My name is Enid Chichester.”

“And are you and your companions retained as captives here? But I need not ask, for doubtless you are.”

“Yes. I have not seen my bright, beautiful home for two weary years.”

Two sparkling drops struggled up from the liquid depths of her lovely eyes, and rolled like gems over her flushed cheeks, hiding themselves within the folds of the fleecy robes in her hands.

A strange expression gleamed within Ralph Moulton’s eyes as he gazed upon her emotion. One might interpret it thus:

If he had but seen this lovely, friendless little fairy before he had gone to such extremes with Dora, he thought he could have found all the consolation he wished in her smile.

With a sigh, half of regret for himself, and the otherhalf of sympathy for her, Ralph Moulton asked, in a low tone:

“Would you accept freedom, Miss Chichester, could it be obtained for you?”

“Would I accept it? Oh, Heaven grant me but this one boon, and no sacrifice would be too great to testify my gratitude!”

“My friend,” he whispered, bending nearer, so that his own dark locks mingled with hers. “Listen. Prepare yourself for the change, and your wish shall be gratified. I pledge you my word that it shall be so.”

“Will you? Oh, thanks, thanks!”

She dropped her laces all in a heap upon the floor, and clasping her hands impulsively around his arm, bowed her dainty head, and sobbed like a child.

Ralph Moulton quivered in every nerve beneath her touch, and the color mounted hotly to his brow. He thought to clasp her in his arms and comfort her, dry her tears, and win back her smile.

But he dared not do it; from his very soul he respected this pure girl, and felt himself unworthy even to touch her robes. If he had not made that rash vow, or even if he had not had this last interview with Dora, all would be well.

He began to feel as if the net he had spread for others was becoming entangled about himself, and the chains which he had prepared for our heroine were beginning to gall him severely.

Cupid was busy at work, but—would he win?

Enid Chichester wept unrestrainedly for a few moments. The hope was so unexpected, she had schooled her heart so long to bear her lot, that this sudden rift in the clouds, revealing the brightness beyond, was too dazzling to her sorrow-shadowed soul, wholly overpowering her.

At last she started suddenly, and said, in a quivering, grateful voice:

“Oh, Mr. Moulton! it was so unexpected I could not help it, and you have my deepest gratitude, even though you should not succeed.”

The look which she shot at him contained something stronger than mere gratitude.

“I am a stranger to you, Miss Chichester. Are you sure that you can trust yourself to me. I fear you look upon meas being really better than I am,” he said, searching her face closely, and with a rather remorseful tone.

“I know I can,” she answered, confidently.

“But should I happen to do something, between this and the time that I could effect your escape, that seemed to you most unworthy—that would merit perhaps your sternest disapprobation—what then?”

She looked at him for a moment, with a puzzled air, then smilingly replied:

“If you should—if I should be very, very much displeased with you for anything you might do, still I should feel that there was some good in you—that you were noble and kind at heart—and I should not fear to trust you.”

“I thank you, and bless you for your words. I feel them more deeply than I can express,” returned Ralph, the tears actually springing to his eyes at so much trust and confidence.

He pressed her little hand reverently, and hearing footsteps approaching, he hastily left her, saying he would see her again, and passed on to his room, sadder and more dissatisfied with himself than he had ever been in his life.

He was not all bad, as she had said. There was a germ of truth and goodness within his heart which, if nourished and tended in the sunshine of purity and love, might yet bloom with beauty and fragrance.


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