Kitabı oku: «My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XXV.
A TRUE FRIEND

Liane Lester, late that afternoon, when coming home from her work with her friend, Lizzie White, saw again the handsome face and dark, flashing eyes of Jesse Devereaux. He had believed himself unseen, but he was mistaken.

Some subtle instinct had turned Liane's timid glance straight to the spot where he was watching, unseen, as he believed.

The quick, passionate throb of her heart sent the blood bounding to her cheeks and made her hands tremble as they clasped the envelope with her slender weekly earnings.

But at the same instant Liane dropped the thick, curling fringe of her lashes quickly over her eyes, for in his alert glance she met no sign of recognition, and her heart sank heavily again as she remembered his cold, careless greeting the day she had passed his house with Mrs. Brinkley.

The good woman was right. He might have amused himself with her in the country, but he was indifferent to her in town. He would not even take the trouble to bow when they met by chance, as now.

But Liane had the most loyal heart in the world, and she could never forget that night by the sea when Devereaux had saved her from the insulting caresses of the dark-browed stranger, and afterward from granny's blow, breaking his arm in her defense.

"How brave and noble he was that night! He was so handsome and adorable that my heart went out to him, never to be recalled, in spite of all that has happened since," she thought sadly.

With lowered lashes and a heart sinking heavily with its hopeless love and pain, Liane passed on with her friend, little dreaming that she was followed to her home by Devereaux, nor what dire consequences would follow on his learning her address.

She was restless that night, and he haunted her dreams persistently, and on the morrow she rose tired, and pale, and sad, almost wishing she had not met him again, to have all the old pain and regret revived within her breast.

The long day dragged away, and when she went home that evening she found awaiting her the Philadelphia magazine that had her beautiful face on the outside cover. Accompanying this was a batch of novels, together with a basket of fruit and a bunch of roses.

"Hothouse roses and tropical fruit—you must have caught a rich beau, Liane!" cried Mrs. Brinkley, as she delivered the gifts.

"Oh, no; there must be some mistake," she answered quickly, but her heart throbbed as she remembered the meeting with Devereaux yesterday, and she wondered if he could possibly be the donor.

"Impossible!" she sighed to herself, as the woman continued:

"There cannot be any mistake, for there is the card, tied to the basket, with 'Miss Liane Lester, with kind wishes of a true friend,' written on it. They came by a neat messenger boy, who would not answer a single question I asked him."

"A charming mystery! Oh, what magnificent roses for the last of November!" cried Lizzie, inhaling their fragrance with delight, while Liane handed around the basket, generously sharing the luscious fruit with her friends.

She was thinking all the while of the words Jesse Devereaux had said to her on the beach that never-to-be-forgotten night:

"I will be a true friend to you."

The card on the basket read the same: "A True Friend."

It was enough to send the tremulous color flying to Liane's cheek, while a new, faint hope throbbed at her heart.

Granny was out somewhere, or she would have got a scolding on suspicion of knowing the donor of the presents. She wisely kept the truth to herself, dividing the fruit with her friends, placing the books in her trunk, and the roses in a vase in Lizzie's room, though she longed very much to have them in her own.

That night her dreams were sweet and rose-colored.

She went to work with a blithe heart next morning, and, although it was the first day of December, and a light covering of snow lay on the roofs and pavements, she did not feel the biting wind pierce through her thin jacket; her pulse was bounding and her being in a glow because of the great scarlet rose pinned on her breast, seeming to shed a summer warmth and sweetness on the icy air—the warmth of hope and love.

All day her visions were rose-colored, and her thoughts hovered about Devereaux until she almost forgot where she was, and was recalled unpleasantly to reality by a proud, impatient voice exclaiming:

"I have spoken to you twice, and you have not heard me! Your thoughts must be very far away. Show me your best kid gloves—five and a half size!"

At the same moment a small hand had gently pressed her arm, sending an odd thrill through her whole frame, causing her to start and look up at a handsome, richly dressed woman, whose dark-blue eyes were fixed on her in surprise and dislike.

She knew the proud, cold face instantly. It belonged to a woman she had seen on Edmund Clarke's arm the night of the beauty contest. It was his wife, the mother of haughty Roma, and Liane comprehended instantly her glance of anger—it was because she had taken the prize over Roma's head.

Wounded and abashed by the lady's scorn, Liane attended to her wants in timid silence, only speaking when necessary, her cheeks flushed, her soft eyes downcast, her white hands fluttering nervously over the gloves.

Mrs. Clarke selected a box of gloves, paid for them, and said in a supercilious tone, quite different from her usual gentle manner:

"I will take the gloves with me. You may bring them out to my carriage on the opposite side of the street."

She was purposely humbling Liane, and the girl felt it intuitively. Her bosom heaved, and her blue eyes brimmed with dew, but she did not resent the proud command, only took up the box of gloves and followed her customer out of the store to the thickly crowded pavement and over the crossing, where a carriage waited in a throng of vehicles on the other side.

All at once something terrible happened.

Mrs. Clarke, keeping proudly in front of Liane, and not noticing closely enough her environment of vehicles and street cars, suddenly found herself right in the path of an electric car that in another moment would have crushed out her life had not two small hands reached out and hurled her swiftly aside.

Hundreds of eyes had seen the lady's imminent peril, and marked with kindling admiration the girl's heroic deed.

Without a selfish thought, though she was exposing herself to deadly danger, Liane bounded wildly upon the track and seized the dazed and immovable woman with frantic hands, dragging her by main force off the track of the car that, in the succeeding moment, whizzed by at its highest speed, just as the two, Liane and the rescued woman, fell to the ground outside the wheels.

Eager, sympathetic men bore them to the pavement, where it was found that Mrs. Clarke was in a swoon, so deathlike that it frightened Liane, who sobbed and wrung her hands.

"Oh, she is dead! The terrible shock has killed her! Can no one do anything to bring back her life? She must not die! She has a loving husband and a beautiful daughter, who would break their hearts over their terrible loss!"

"Who is she?" they asked the sobbing girl, and she answered:

"She is Mrs. Clarke, a wealthy lady of Stonecliff, and must be visiting in the city."

At that moment the lady's eyes fluttered open, she gazed with a dazed air on the curious faces that surrounded her, and murmured:

"Where am I? What has happened?"

There were not lacking a dozen voices to tell her everything, loud in praise of the lovely girl who had saved her life at the imminent risk of her own.

"I—I did no more than my duty!" she sobbed, blushing crimson while they all gazed on her with the warmest admiration. There are so few who do their duty even in this cold, hard world, and one man exclaimed:

"It was not your duty to risk your life so nearly. Why, the car fender brushed your skirt as you fell. It was an act of the purest heroism!"

Mrs. Clarke pressed her hand to her brow bewilderingly, murmuring:

"I remember it all now! I stepped thoughtlessly on the track, and when I saw the car rushing down on me, I was so dazed with fear and horror I could not move or speak! No, though my very life depended on it, I could not move or speak! I could only stand like a statue, a breathing statue of horror, facing death! My feet were glued to the rail, my eyes stared before me in mute despair! Horrible anticipations thronged my mind! Suddenly I was caught by frantic hands and dragged aside! I realized I was saved, and consciousness fled."

At that moment the carriage driver, who had got down from his box and was waiting on the curb, advanced, and said anxiously:

"Shall I take you back to the hotel, madam?"

"Yes, yes." She glanced around at Liane, and put out a yearning hand. "Come with me, dear girl. I—I am too ill to go alone. Let me lean on your strength."

Somehow Liane could not refuse the request. She felt a strange, sweet tenderness flooding her heart for the proud lady who, up to the present time, had used her so cruelly in unfair resentment.

She sent a message explaining her absence across to the store, and led Mrs. Clarke's faltering steps to the carriage.

"Oh, I dropped the box of gloves in my rush to drag you from the track! I must go back for them!" she cried, in dismay.

"No, miss, here they are. An honest man picked them up and handed them up on the box this instant," said the driver, producing the gloves.

"Oh, my dear girl, no need to think of gloves at a moment like this! How can I ever thank you and bless you enough for your noble heroism that saved my life!" cried Mrs. Clarke fervently.

She gazed in gratitude and admiration at the exquisite face that owed none of its charm to extraneous adornment. The wealth of sun-flecked, chestnut locks rippled back in rich waves from the pure white brow, the great purplish-blue eyes, the exquisite features, the dainty coloring of the skin; above all, the expression of innocence and sweetness pervading all, thrilled Mrs. Clarke's heart with such keen pleasure that she quite forgot it was this radiant beauty that had rivaled Roma in the contest for the prize. She said to herself that here was the loveliest and the bravest girl in the whole world.

The carriage rattled along the busy streets, and Liane timidly disclaimed any need of praise; she had but tried to do her duty.

"Duty!" cried Mrs. Clarke, and somehow her cold, nervous hand stole into Liane's, and nestled there like a trembling bird, while she continued with keen self-reproach:

"You have returned good for evil in the most generous fashion. I was treating you in the most haughty and resentful manner, trying to sting your girlish pride and make you conscious of your inferiority. Did you understand my motive?"

"You were naturally a little vexed with me because I had carried off the prize for which your lovely daughter competed," Liane murmured bashfully.

"Yes, and I was wickedly unjust. You deserved the prize. Roma, with all her gifts of birth and fortune, is not one-half so beautiful as you, Liane Lester, the poor girl," cried Mrs. Clarke warmly. "Do you know I am quite proud that my husband says you resemble me in my girlhood; but, to be frank, I am sure I was never half so pretty."

Liane blushed with delight at her kindness, and bashfully told her of her meeting on the beach with Mr. Clarke, when he had impulsively called her Elinor.

"He told me then that I greatly resembled his wife!" she added, gazing admiringly at the still handsome woman, and feeling proud in her heart to look like her, so strangely was her heart interested.

Mrs. Clarke could not help saying, so greatly were her feelings changed toward Liane:

"My husband admires you greatly; did you know it? He wishes to befriend you, making you an honored member of our household. I believe he would permit me to adopt you as a daughter, so strong will be his gratitude for your act of to-day."

"Oh, madam!" faltered Liane, in grateful bewilderment, feeling that she could be very happy with these kind people, only for proud, willful Roma, and she added:

"Your handsome daughter would not want me as a sister!"

Mrs. Clarke hesitated, then answered reassuringly:

"Oh, yes, yes, when she learns how you saved my life to-day, Roma cannot help but love you dearly!"

The carriage stopped in front of a grand hotel, and she added:

"I want you to come in and stay all day with me, Liane, dear. I am too nervous to be left alone, and Roma has gone to a dentist and will not be back until late afternoon."

Liane went with her new friend into the grand hotel, and they spent a happy day together, the tie of blood, undreamed of by either, strongly asserting itself.

Mrs. Clarke found Liane a charming and congenial companion, as different from selfish, hateful Roma as daylight from darkness.

In spite of her loyalty, she could not help contrasting them in her mind, so greatly to Roma's disadvantage that she murmured to herself:

"I would give half my fortune if Roma were like this charming girl!"

She lay on the sofa and talked, while Liane stroked her aching temples with cool, magnetic fingers, so enchanting Mrs. Clarke that she caught them once and pressed them to her lips.

"I love you, dear, you are so sweet and noble. Bend down your head, let me kiss you for saving my life!" and Liane's dewy lips gave the longed-for caress so fervently that it thrilled the lady's heart with keen pleasure. How cold and reluctant Roma's lips were, even in her warmest, most deceitful moods.

But ere the day was far advanced Edmund Clarke suddenly burst in upon them, pale with anxiety lest wicked Roma had already harmed his gentle wife.

He was astonished when he found her in company with Liane Lester.

Explanations followed, and surprise was succeeded by delight.

He was so sure that Liane was his own daughter that he longed to clasp her in his arms, kiss her sweet, rosy lips, and claim her for his own.

But he did not dare risk the shock to his delicate, nervous wife.

"I must wait a little, till I can get proof to back up my assertion," he decided, so his greeting to Liane, though grateful and friendly, was repressed in its ardor, while he thought gladly:

"Thank Heaven! She has won her way, unaided, to her mother's heart, and that makes everything easier. I shall not have to encounter her opposition in ousting Roma from the place so long wrongfully occupied."

"Do you know what I am thinking of, Edmund, dear?" said his wife. "I wish to adopt Liane for a daughter."

He started with surprise and pleasure, his fine eyes beaming:

"A happy idea!" he exclaimed; "but do you think Roma would care for a sister?"

She hesitated a moment, then answered:

"Frankly, I do not, but I have fallen so deeply in love with this dear girl, and she seems already so necessary to my happiness, that Roma must yield to my will in the matter."

At this moment Liane arose, saying sweetly:

"I am your debtor for a charming day, Mrs. Clarke, but it is time for me to go now, or my grandmother will be uneasy about me."

"Then you must promise me to come here again to-morrow morning; for I shall never let you work for a living again. Edmund, you must send her home in the carriage," cried Mrs. Clarke, kissing her charming guest farewell.

CHAPTER XXVI.
TREMBLING HOPES

Mrs. Brinkley was amazed to see Liane coming home in an elegant carriage, and when she entered she could not help exclaiming:

"Really, my dear, I shall believe presently that you and Mistress Jenks must be rich folks in disguise! Here was your granny receiving a visit from a grand young lady in a carriage this morning, and now you coming home in another one, just when I was expecting you and Lizzie to come trudging home, afoot, from work. It's rather strange, I think, and, coupled with your gifts yesterday, it looks like you were fooling with some rich young man that means nothing but trifling, though I hope for your own sake it ain't so!"

There was a sharp note of suspicion in her voice, but Liane, inured to harshness, dared not resent it, only shrank sensitively, as from a blow, and meekly explained the happenings of the day, giving the bare facts only, but withholding the promises Mrs. Clarke had made, too incredulous of good fortune coming to her to make any boast.

Mrs. Brinkley flushed, and exclaimed:

"That was a brave thing you did, my dear, and I want you to excuse me if I hurt your feelings just now. I spoke for your own good, wishing to be as careful over your welfare as I am over my own sister Lizzie's!"

"I understand, and I thank you!" the young girl answered sweetly, emboldening Mrs. Brinkley to ask curiously:

"Did the rich lady whose life you saved give you any reward?"

"She asked me very particularly to return to the hotel to-morrow, and intimated that I should not have to work for my living any more!"

"Then your fortune's made, my dear girl. Let me congratulate you," cried Mrs. Brinkley. "I've news for you, too. I was lucky enough to secure two new boarders for my two empty rooms this morning."

Liane feigned a polite interest, and she added:

"One was a man, a language teacher in a boarding school. I didn't like his looks much. He is dark and Spanish looking, but he paid my price in advance, so that reconciled me to his scowling brow and black whiskers. The other is a seamstress, very neat and ladylike, and I believe I shall find her real pleasant. Her name is Sophie Nutter, and his is Carlos Cisneros."

Liane's eyes brightened as she exclaimed:

"There used to be a lady's maid at Cliffdene named Sophie Nutter. I wonder if it can be the same?"

"You might make a little call on her and see. Her room is next yours, and your granny has gone out to buy some baked beans for her supper."

Liane was glad that granny had not seen her come home in the carriage, she hated having to explain everything to the ill-natured old crone, and she started to go upstairs, but looked back to ask:

"Who was granny's caller?"

"I don't know. She was in such a bad temper when she went away, I didn't dare ask. The young lady was all in silk and fur, with a thick veil over her face, but some locks of hair peeped out at the back of her neck, and they were thick and red as copper. She stayed upstairs with granny as much as an hour, and when she left the old woman seemed to be perfectly devilish in her temper. Seems to me I'd be afraid to live with her if I was you, Liane!"

"So I am, Mrs. Brinkley, but she is old and poor, and it would be wicked for me to desert her, you know!"

"I wonder what God leaves such as her in the world for to torment good people, while He takes away good, useful ones, that can ill be spared!" soliloquized the landlady; but Liane sighed without replying, and, running upstairs, tapped lightly on the new boarder's door.

It opened quickly, and there were mutual exclamations of surprise and pleasure. It was, indeed, the Sophie Nutter of Cliffdene.

"Do come in my room and sit down, Miss Lester. I'm so proud to see you again!" cried the former maid.

Liane accepted the invitation, and they spent half an hour exchanging confidences.

"I saw in a Stonecliff paper that you got the prize for beauty, and no wonder! You are fairer than a flower, my dear young lady! But, my goodness, how mad Miss Roma must have been! By the way, I saw her getting out of a carriage here to-day, and she was closeted with your granny an hour in close conversation. Does she visit you often?"

"She has never been here before. I cannot imagine why she came, but I dare not ask granny unless she volunteers some information," confessed Liane, as she started up, exclaiming: "I hear her coming in now, so I will go and help her make the tea!"

"Bless you, my sweet young lady, you deserve a better fate than living with that cross old hag!" exclaimed Sophie Nutter impulsively.

She was surprised when Liane turned back to her and said with a sudden ripple of girlish laughter:

"Sophie, suppose my lot should change? Suppose Mrs. Clarke should do something grand for me in return for saving her life to-day? Suppose I were rich and grand, which it isn't likely I shall ever be! Could I employ you for my maid?"

"Yes, indeed, my dear Miss Lester, and I should be proud, and grateful for the chance to serve such a sweet, kind mistress!" cried Sophie earnestly.

"Thank you, and please consider yourself engaged, if the improbable happens!" laughed Liane, in girlish mockery, as she hurried out, meeting in the hall a dark-browed stranger, from whom she started back in dismay as he passed scowlingly to his room.

It was no wonder Liane recoiled in fear and dislike from Carlos Cisneros, the new boarder.

The sight of his somber, scowling face, with its dark beard, recalled to her that night upon the beach when Devereaux had saved her from a ruffian's insults.

For it was the selfsame face that had scowled upon her in the moonlight that night. It had terrified her too much ever to be forgotten.

He had evidently recognized her, too, from his start of surprise, and the angry bow with which he passed her by.

Trembling with the surprise of the unpleasant rencounter, Liane hastened to seclude herself within her own rooms.

Granny Jenks had just entered, and she was still in the vilest of humors, glaring murderously at Liane, without uttering a word, and giving vent to her temper by banging and slamming everything within her reach.

Liane, gentle, sorrowful, patient, her young heart full of the happenings of the day, and tremulous hopes for the morrow, moved softly about, laying the cloth for tea on the small table, and helping as much as the snapping, snarling old woman would permit.

The sight of her humility and patience ought to have melted the hardest heart, but Granny Jenks was implacable. She only saw in the lovely creature a rival to Roma, and an impediment that must be swept from her path.

Most exciting had been the interview that day between granny and her real granddaughter, and they had mutually agreed that Liane's continued life was a menace not to be borne longer. The beautiful, injured girl must die to insure Roma's continuance in her position.

When Roma left the house a devilish plot had been laid, whose barest details almost had been worked out, and the beautiful schemer's heart throbbed with triumph as she swept out to her carriage.

She had not noticed, on entering the house, a dark, scowling face at the parlor window, neither did she guess that, while she was with granny, the new boarder went out and slipped into the carriage, unobserved by the driver, calmly remaining there and awaiting her return.

When she entered the carriage and seated herself, looking up the next moment to find herself opposite Carlos Cisneros, she opened her lips to shriek aloud, but his hand closed firmly over her lips, and his hoarse voice muttered in her ear:

"Scream, and your wicked life shall end with a bullet in your heart, adventuress, false wife, murderess!"

The driver, unaware of his double fare, whipped up his horses and drove on, while the strange pair glared fiercely at each other, the man hissing savagely:

"I don't know how I keep my hands from your fair white throat, murderess, unless I am lenient because I remember burning kisses you once gave me before your false nature turned from me, and you fled from the school, where you had wedded the poor language teacher secretly while I lay ill of a fever. Cruel heart, to desert me while I was supposed to be dying!"

"A pity you had not died!" she muttered viciously between her red lips, and he snarled:

"It is not your fault that I am living! When I found you, after long, weary search, at Cliffdene, that night, and you toppled me so madly over the cliff, I am sure you meant to kill me!"

"Yes, I cannot see how I failed!" she muttered.

"If you wish to know, the explanation is easy. I was picked up more dead than alive by a passing yacht, and carried to the nearest town, where I spent weary months in a hospital from the blow I had received on my head in falling over the bluff. I have but lately recovered, and came here and found a position to teach in a school."

"You had wisely concluded to give up your pursuit of me?" she sneered.

"Yes, discouraged by the warm reception I got from you at Cliffdene; but, fate having thrown you across my path again, I believe I ought to make capital of it. You are my wife secretly, and you tried to murder me. Both are dangerous secrets. Perhaps you would pay me well to keep them?"

"I suppose that I must do so?" Roma answered, after a moment's hesitancy, with bitter chagrin.

"Very well. I will take what money you have about you now, and I must know what terms you will make for my silence. A liberal allowance monthly would suit me best."

Roma emptied her purse into his hands, saying:

"If we agree upon terms of silence, will you promise never to molest me again? Not even if I marry another man!"

"I promise! And I pity the fellow who gets you, if you treat him as you did me!"

"The less you say on that subject the better! Do not forget that you persuaded an innocent schoolgirl into a secret marriage, that she was bound to repent when she came to her sober senses," she cried bitterly. "But there, it is too late now for recriminations. I hoped you were dead, but, since you are not, I wish only to be rid of you!"

"You can buy my silence!" replied Carlos Cisneros, so calmly that she congratulated herself, thinking:

"He is not going to be dangerous, after all."

Aloud, she said:

"I will arrange to send you a monthly allowance of fifty dollars, the best I can do for you! Will that satisfy your greed?"

"It is very little, but I will accept it," he replied sullenly.

"Very well; now leave me, if you can do so without attracting the driver's attention. I shall be leaving the carriage at the next corner," she said, and he obeyed her, springing lightly to the ground, and disappearing.

"He was not very violent, thank goodness!" sighed Roma, believing that as long as she paid him he would not betray her dangerous secrets; but bitterly chagrined that he was not dead, as she had believed so long.

"Perhaps I can compass that later!" she thought darkly, as she gave the order to the driver for Commonwealth Avenue.

She had determined to call on Lyde Carrington, with whom she had a society acquaintance, in the hope of seeing Jesse Devereaux again.

Mrs. Carrington received her with graceful cordiality, and Roma proceeded to make herself irresistible, in the hope of getting an invitation to remain a few days.

"I shall have to remain in Boston several days to have my teeth treated by a dentist, but mamma is compelled to return to Cliffdene to-night. I think of sending for my maid to cheer my loneliness," she said.

"Come and stay with me," cried Lyde, falling into the trap.

She knew that Jesse had been engaged to the dashing heiress, and amiably thought that their near proximity to each other might effect a reconciliation.

She had a shrewd suspicion of Roma's object in coming; but she did not disapprove of it; she was so anxious to see him married to the proper person, a rich girl in their own set. She knew he was romantic at heart, and secretly feared he might make a mésalliance.

But even while she was thinking these thoughts she remembered Liane, and said to herself:

"If my pretty glove girl were rich and well-born, I should choose her above all others as a bride for my handsome brother!"