And events did take their course, when, a few evenings later, Marion
suddenly saw Earle entering the _salon_, where three or four visitors
were already assembled. She herself was at the farther end of the room,
and somewhat concealed by a large Oriental screen, near which she was
seated. She was very glad of this friendly shelter when she felt her
heart leap in a manner which fairly terrified her, as, glancing up, she
saw Earle's face in the doorway. Her own emotion surprised her far more
than his appearance; she shrank farther back into the shadow to conceal
what she feared might be perceptible to others, and yet she could not
refrain from following him with her eyes.
What she saw was this--that, even while greeting Mrs. Kerr, his
glance wandered to Claire; that his first eager step was taken in her
direction; and that his face, when he took her hand, was so eloquent of
pleasure and tender admiration that it made Marion recall some words he
had spoken when they first knew each other in Scarborough. "She charmed
me," he had said then of Claire; "she is so simple, so candid, so
intent upon high aims." Every word came back with sudden distinctness,
with sudden, piercing meaning and weight, in the light of the look on
Earle's face.
"He is in love with Claire!" said Marion to herself. "Nothing could
be more natural, nothing more suitable. There is no struggle _here_
between his heart and his judgment, as was the case with me. She seems
to be made for him in every respect. Why did I not think of it sooner,
and why did not Claire tell me that he had transferred his affection to
her? Did she want me to see for myself, or did she think that I should
not see? But there is no reason why I should care--none whatever."
Even while she repeated this assurance to herself, however, the sinking
of her heart, the trembling of her hands, belied it, and frightened her
by the evidence of a feeling she had not suspected. Surely, among the
mysteries of our being, there is none greater than the existence and
growth of feelings which we not only do not encourage, but of which we
are often in absolute ignorance until some flash of illumination comes
to reveal to us their strength.
Such a flash came now to Marion. She had assured herself that she had
put Brian Earle out of her heart, and instead she suddenly found that,
during the interval in which she had condemned it to darkness and
silence, her feeling for him had increased rather than lessened. And
she was now face to face with the proof that he had forgotten her--that
he had found in Claire the true ideal of his fancy! She felt that it
was natural, she acknowledged that it was just, but the shock was
overpowering.
Fortunately, she happened at that moment to be alone--a gentleman who
had been talking to her having crossed the room to ask Mrs. Kerr a
question. Seeing him about to retrace his steps, a sudden instinct of
flight--of flight at any cost of personal dignity--seized Marion. She
felt that in another instant Claire would point her out to Earle, that
he would be forced to come and address her. Could she bear that?--was
she able to meet him as indifferently as she desired to do? Her beating
pulses told her no; and, without giving herself time to think, she
rose, lifted a _portière_ near her, and passed swiftly and silently
from the room.
Claire, meanwhile, glanced up at Earle; and she, too, met that look of
tender admiration which Marion perceived. It was not the first time
she had met it, but it was the first time that a consciousness of its
possible meaning flashed upon her. She did not color at the thought,
but grew instead suddenly pale, and glanced toward the corner of the
room where Marion at that instant had made her escape; but Claire did
not perceive this, and, with the sense of her presence, said to Earle:--
"You have probably not heard that my friend Marion Lynde is here?"
He started. "Miss Lynde _here_--in Rome!" he asked. "No, I had not
heard it. Why has she come?"
"To see and to be with me," answered Claire, calmly. "You know,
perhaps, that we are great friends."
"I have heard Miss Lynde speak of you," he said, regaining
self-possession; "and if the friendship struck me as rather a strange
one, knowing little of you as I did then, you may be sure that it
strikes me now as more than strange. I have never met two people in my
life who seemed to me to have less in common."
"Pardon me!" returned Claire. "You think so because you do not know
either of us very well. We have really a great deal in common, and I
doubt if any one in the world knows Marion as well as I do."
He looked at her with a sudden keen glance from under brows somewhat
bent. "Are you not aware that I had at one time reason to fancy that I
knew Miss Lynde quite well?" he asked.
"Yes," said Claire, with frankness; "I know. She has told me of that.
But in such a relation as the one which existed between you for a time,
people sometimes learn very little of each other. And I think that
perhaps you did not learn very much of her."
"I learned quite enough," he replied,--"all that was necessary to
convince me that I had made a great mistake. And there can be no doubt
that Miss Lynde reached the same conclusion. That, I believe, is all
that there is to say of the matter." He paused a moment, then added,
"If she is here, I hope it will not be unpleasant to her to meet me;
since I should be sorry to be banished from this _salon_, which Mrs.
Kerr and yourself make so attractive."
"There is no reason for banishment, unless you desire it," said Claire.
"Marion does not object to meeting you. But I think that there are
one or two things that you ought to know before you meet her. Are you
aware, in the first place, that she has given up your uncle's fortune?"
"No," he answered, very much startled. "Why has she done so?"
"Because Mr. Singleton's son appeared, and she thought that he should
in justice possess his father's fortune. Do you not think she was
right?"
"Right?--I suppose so. But this is very astonishing news. You are
positively certain that George Singleton, my uncle's son, is alive?"
"I am certain that Marion has told me so, and I do not suppose she is
mistaken, since she has resigned a fortune to him. People are usually
sure before they take such a step as that."
"Yes," he assented, "but it seems almost incredible. For years George
Singleton has been thought to be dead, and I was under the impression
that my uncle had positive reason for believing him so. This being the
case, there was no reason why he should not leave his fortune as he
liked, and I was glad when I heard that he had left it to Miss Lynde;
for the possession of wealth seemed to be the first desire of her
heart."
"Poor Marion!" said Claire, gently. "You might be more tolerant of
that desire if you knew all that she has suffered--suffered in a way
peculiarly hard to her--from poverty. And she has surely proved in
the most conclusive manner that, however much she desired wealth,
she was not prepared to keep it at any cost to her conscience or her
self-respect."
"Did she, then, resign _all_ the fortune?"
"Very nearly all. She said that she reluctantly retained only a few
thousand dollars."
"But is it possible that George Singleton did not insist upon
providing for her fitly? Whatever his other faults, he was not
mercenary--formerly."
"Mr. Singleton must have tried every possible argument to induce her
to keep half the fortune, but she refused to do so. I think she felt
keenly some reflections that had been thrown on her by Mr. Singleton's
relatives, and wished to disprove them."
Earle was silent for a minute. He seemed trying to adjust his mind to
these new views of Marion's character. "And you tell me that she is
here--with you?"
"I was about to say that she is in the room," Claire answered; "but I
do not see her just now. She was here a few minutes ago."
"Probably my appearance sent her away. Perhaps she would rather not
meet me."
"She assured me that she did not object to meeting you; and, unless
you give up our acquaintance, I do not see how such a meeting can be
avoided; for she has come to stay in Rome some time."
"Well," said Earle, with an air of determination, "I certainly have
no intention of giving up your acquaintance. Be sure of that. And it
would go hard with me to cease visiting here in the pleasant, familiar
fashion Mrs. Kerr and yourself have allowed me to fall into. So if Miss
Lynde does not object to meeting me, there assuredly is not the least
reason why I should object to meeting her."
Claire would have liked to ask, in her sincere, straightforward
fashion, if all his feeling for Marion was at an end; and she might
have done so but for the recollection of the look which had startled
her. She did not acknowledge to herself in so many words what that look
might mean; but it made her instinctively avoid any dangerous question,
and she was not sorry when at this point their _tête-à-tête_ was
interrupted.
But Marion did not reappear; and when Claire at length went to seek
her, she found that she had retired. Her room was in partial darkness,
so that her face could not be seen, but her voice sounded altogether as
usual when she accounted for her disappearance.
"I found that I was more tired than I had imagined by our day of
sight-seeing," she said. "I grew so stupid that flight was the only
resource. Pray make my excuses to Mr. Gardner. I vanished while he went
across the room, and I suppose he was astonished to find an empty chair
when he returned."
"Do you know that Mr. Earle entered just at the time you left?" asked
Claire, who had her suspicions about this sudden flight.
"Did he?" said Marion, in a tone of indifference. "Fortunately, it is
not necessary to make my excuses to him. There is no more reason why
he should wish to see me than why I should wish to see him. Another
time will answer as well to exchange some common-places of greeting.
Good-night, dear! Don't let me detain you longer from your friends."
"I am so sorry you are tired! Hereafter we must be more moderate in
sight-seeing," observed Claire.
As she went out of the room she said to herself that she must wait
before she could decide anything with regard to the feelings of these
two people. Was their alienation real and complete? One seemed as
cold and indifferent as the other. But did this coldness only mask
the old affection, or was it genuine? Claire had some instincts which
seldom misled her, and one of these instincts made her fear that the
indifference was more genuine with Earle than with Marion. "That would
be terrible," she said to herself: "if _he_ has forgotten and _she_ has
not. If it were only possible that they would tell the simple truth!
But that, I suppose, cannot be expected. If I knew it, I would know how
to act; but as it is I can only wait and observe. I believe, however,
that Marion left the room because he appeared; and if his presence has
such an effect on her, she certainly cares for him yet."
Marion was already writhing under the thought that this very conclusion
would be drawn--perhaps by Earle himself,--and determining that she
would never again be betrayed into such weakness. "It was the shock of
surprise," she said in self-extenuation. "I was not expecting anything
of _that_ kind, and it naturally startled me. I know it now, and it
will have no such effect a second time. I suppose I might have looked
for it if I had not been so self-absorbed. Certainly it is not only
natural, but very suitable. They seem made for each other; and I--I do
hope they may be happy. But I must go away as soon as I can. That is
necessary."
It was several days after this that the meeting between herself and
Earle took place. She had been with Claire for some hours in the
galleries of the Vatican, and finally before leaving they entered the
beautiful Raphael Loggia--that lovely spot filled with light and color,
where the most exquisite creations of the king of painters glow with
immortal sunshine from the walls. As they entered and paced slowly down
its length, a figure was advancing from the other end of the luminous
vista toward them. Marion recognized this figure before Claire did,
and so had a moment in which to take firm hold of her self-possession
before the latter, turning to her quickly, said, "Yonder comes Mr.
Earle."
"So I perceive," replied Marion, quietly. "He has not changed
sufficiently to make an introduction necessary."
The next moment they had met, were shaking hands, and exchanging
greetings. Of the two Marion preserved her composure best. Earle was
surprised by his own emotion when he saw again the face that once had
power to move him so deeply. He had said to himself that its power was
over, that he was cured in the fullest sense of that which he looked
back upon as brief infatuation; but now that he found himself again in
Marion's presence, a thrill of the old emotion seemed to stir, and for
a moment rendered him hardly able to speak.
Conventionalities are powerful things, however, and the emotion must be
very strong that is not successfully held in check by them. Claire went
on speaking in her gentle voice, giving the others time to recover any
self-possession which they might have lost.
"We just came for a turn in this beautiful place before going home,"
she said to Earle. "They are my delight, these _loggia_ of the Vatican.
All the sunshine and charm of Italy seem to meet in the divine
loveliness of the frescos within, and the beauty of the classic gardens
without. A Papal audience is never so picturesque, I am sure, as when
it is held in one of these noble galleries."
Earle assented rather absently; then saying, "If you are about to go
home, I will see you to your carriage," turned and joined them. It was
a singular sensation to find himself walking again by Marion's side;
and the recollection of their last parting returned so vividly to his
mind that when he spoke he could only say, "My poor uncle's life was
much, shorter than I imagined it would be, Miss Lynde."
"Yes," replied Marion, quietly. "His death was a great surprise to
everyone. I am sure you did not think when you parted from him that his
life would be numbered only by weeks."
"I certainly did not think so," he answered, with emphasis. Then he
paused and hesitated. Conversation seemed hedged with more difficulties
than he had anticipated. His parting with his uncle had been so closely
connected with his parting from Marion, that he found it a subject
impossible to pursue. He dropped it abruptly, therefore, and remarked:
"I was greatly surprised to learn from Miss Alford that my cousin
George Singleton is alive, and has returned from the wild regions in
which he buried himself."
This was a better opening. Marion replied that Mr. Singleton's
appearance had astonished everyone concerned, but that his identity was
fully established. "Indeed," she added, "I do not think there was a
doubt in the mind of any one after he made his personal appearance."
"And you gave up your fortune to him?" said Earle, with a sudden keen
glance at her.
She colored. "I did not feel that it was _my_ fortune," she answered,
"but rather his. Surely his father must have believed him dead, else he
would never have made such a disposition of his property."
"That was my impression--that he believed him dead. But it is difficult
to speak with certainty about a man so peculiar and so reticent as my
uncle. You will, perhaps, pardon me for saying that, since he had left
you his fortune, I do not think you were bound to resign it all."
"I suppose," said Marion, somewhat coldly, "that I was not bound to
resign any of it: I had, no doubt, a legal right to keep whatever the
law did not take from me. But I am not so mercenary as you believe. I
could not keep what I did not believe to be rightfully mine."
Despite pride, her voice trembled a little over the last words; and
Earle was immediately filled with self-reproach to think that he had
wounded her.
"So far from believing you mercenary," he said gravely, "I think that
you have acted with extraordinary generosity,--a generosity carried,
indeed, beyond prudence. Forgive me for alluding to the subject. I only
regret that my uncle's intentions toward you have been so entirely
frustrated."
"I have the recollection of his great kindness," she said, hurriedly.
"I know that he desired to help me, therefore I felt it right to keep
something. I did not leave myself penniless."
"You would have been wrong if you had done so," remarked Earle; "but
it would have been better still if you had kept a fair amount of the
fortune."
"Oh, no!" she replied; "for I had no claim to any of it--no claim, I
mean, of relationship. I was a stranger to your uncle, and I only kept
such an amount as it seemed to me a kind-hearted man might give to a
stranger who had wakened his interest. Mr. George Singleton was very
kind, too. He wished me to keep more, but I would not."
"I understand how you felt," said Earle; "and I fear I should have
acted in the same manner myself, so I really cannot blame you. I only
think it a pity."
The gentleness and respect of his tone touched and pleased her. She
felt that it implied more approval and sympathy than he liked to
express. Unconsciously her eyes thanked him; and when they parted a
little later in one of the courts of the Vatican, each felt that the
awkwardness of meeting was over, and that there was no reason why they
should shrink from meeting again.
"I have wronged her," said Earle to himself as he strolled away. "She
is not the absolutely mercenary and heartless creature I had come to
believe her. I might have known that I was wrong, or Miss Alford would
not make a friend of her. Whoever _she_ likes must be worthy of being
liked."