DISCOVERED.
The report of the pistol had startled Minnie, and for a moment had
greatly agitated her. The cry of Mrs. Willoughby elicited a response
from her to the effect that all was right, and would, no doubt, have
resulted in a conversation, had it not been prevented by Girasole.
Minnie then relapsed into silence for a time, and Ethel took a seat by
her side on the floor, for Minnie would not go near the straw, and
then the two interlocked their arms in an affectionate embrace.
"Ethel darling," whispered Minnie, "do you know I'm beginning to get
awfully tired of this?"
"I should think so, poor darling!"
"If I only had some place to sit on," said Minnie, still reverting to
her original grievance, "it wouldn't be so very bad, you know. I could
put up with not having a bed, or a sofa, or that sort of thing, you
know; but really I must say not to have any kind of a seat seems to me
to be very, very inconsiderate, to say the least of it."
"Poor darling!" said Ethel again.
"And now do you know, Ethel dear, I'm beginning to feel as though I
should really like to run away from this place, if I thought that
horrid man wouldn't see me?"
"Minnie darling," said Ethel, "that's the very thing I came for, you
know."
"Oh yes, I know! And that dear, nice, good, kind, delightful priest!
Oh, it was so nice of you to think of a priest, Ethel dear! I'm so
grateful! But when is he coming?"
"Soon, I hope. But _do_ try not to talk so."
"But I'm only whispering."
"Yes, but your whispers are too loud, and I'm afraid they'll hear."
"Well, I'll try to keep still; but it's so _awfully_ hard, you know,
when one has _so_ much to say, Ethel dear."
Minnie now remained silent for about five minutes.
"How did you say you were going to take me away?" she asked at length.
"In disguise," said Ethel.
"But _what_ disguise?"
"In an old woman's dress--but hu-s-s-s-sh!"
"But I don't _want_ to be dressed up in an old woman's clothes; they
make me _such_ a figure. Why, I'd be a perfect fright."
"Hu-s-s-s-sh! Dear, dear Minnie, you're talking too loud. They'll
certainly hear us," said Ethel, in a low, frightened whisper.
"But _do_--_do_ promise you won't take me in an old woman's clothes!"
"Oh, there--there it is again!" said Ethel. "Dear, dear Minnie,
there's some one listening."
"Well, I don't see what harm there is in what I'm saying. I only
wanted--"
Here there was a movement on the stairs just outside. Ethel had heard
a sound of that kind two or three times, and it had given her alarm;
but now Minnie herself heard it, and stopped speaking.
And now a voice sounded from the stairs. Some Italian words were
spoken, and seemed to be addressed to them. Of course they could make
no reply. The words were repeated, with others, and the speaker seemed
to be impatient. Suddenly it flashed across Ethel's mind that the
speaker was Girasole, and that the words were addressed to her.
Her impression was correct, and the speaker was Girasole. He had heard
the sibilant sounds of the whispering, and, knowing that Minnie could
not speak Italian, it had struck him as being a very singular thing
that she should be whispering. Had her sister joined her? He thought
he would go up and see. So he went up softly, and the whispering still
went on. He therefore concluded that the "Italian woman" was not doing
her duty, and that Mrs. Willoughby had joined her sister. This he
would not allow; but as he had already been sufficiently harsh he did
not wish to be more so, and therefore he called to the "Italian
woman."
"Hallo, you woman there! didn't I tell you not to let the ladies speak
to one another?"
Of course no answer was given, so Girasole grew more angry still, and
cried out again, more imperatively:
"Why do you not answer me? Where are you? Is this the way you watch?"
Still there was no answer. Ethel heard, and by this time knew what his
suspicion was; but she could neither do nor say any thing.
"Come down here at once, you hag!"
But the "hag" did not come down, nor did she give any answer. The
"hag" was trembling violently, and saw that all was lost. If the
priest were only here! If she could only have gone and returned with
him! What kept him?
Girasole now came to the top of the stairs, and spoke to Minnie.
"Charming mees, are you awake?"
"Yes," said Minnie.
"Ees your sistaire wit you?"
"No. How can _she_ be with me, I should like to know, when you've gone
and put her in some horrid old room?"
"Ah! not wit you? Who are you whisperin' to, den?"
Minnie hesitated.
"To my maid," said she.
[Illustration: "WHAT DIT YOU COME FOR?"--"FOR HER."]
"Does de maid spik Inglis?" asked Girasole.
"Yes," said Minnie.
"Ah! I did not know eet. I mus have a look at de contadina who spiks
Inglis. Come here, Italiana. You don't spik Italiano, I tink. Come
here."
Ethel rose to her feet.
Girasole ran down, and came back after a few minutes with a lamp.
Concealment was useless, and so Ethel did not cover her face with the
hood. It had fallen off when she was sitting by Minnie, and hung
loosely down her shoulders from the strings which were around her
neck. Girasole recognized her at one glance.
"Ah!" said he; and then he stood thinking. As for Ethel, now that the
suspense was over and the worst realized, her agitation ceased. She
stood looking at him with perfect calm.
"What dit you come for?" he asked.
"For _her_," said Ethel, making a gesture toward Minnie.
"What could you do wit her?"
"I could see her and comfort her."
"Ah! an' you hope to make her escape. Ha, ha! ver well. You mus not
complain eef you haf to soffair de consequence. Aha! an' so de priest
bring you here--ha?"
Ethel was silent.
"Ah! you fear to say--you fear you harma de priest--ha?"
Minnie had thus far said nothing, but now she rose and looked at
Girasole, and then at Ethel. Then she twined one arm around Ethel's
waist, and turned her large, soft, childish eyes upon Girasole.
"What do you mean," she said, "by _always_ coming here and teasing,
and worrying, and firing off pistols, and frightening people? I'm sure
it was horrid enough for you to make me come to this wretched place,
when you _know_ I don't like it, without annoying me so. Why did you
go and take away poor darling Kitty? And what do you mean now, pray,
by coming here? I never was treated so unkindly in my life. I did not
think that _any one_ could be so very, very rude."
"Charming mees," said Girasole, with a deprecating air, "it pains me
to do any ting dat you do not like."
"It don't pain you," said Minnie--"it don't pain you _at all_. You're
_always_ teasing me. You _never_ do what I want you to. You wouldn't
even give me a chair."
"Alas, carissima mia, to-morra you sall haf all! But dis place is so
remote."
"It is _not_ remote," said Minnie. "It's close by roads and villages
and things. Why, here is Ethel; she has been in a village where there
are houses, and people, and as many chairs as she wants."
"Oh, mees, eef you will but wait an' be patient--eef you will but wait
an' see how tender I will be, an' how I lof you."
"You _don't_ love me," said Minnie, "one bit. Is this love--not to
give me a chair? I have been standing up till I am nearly ready to
drop. And you have nothing better than some wretched promises. I don't
care for to-morrow; I want to be comfortable to-day. You won't let me
have a single thing. And now you come to tease me again, and frighten
poor, dear, darling Ethel."
"Eet ees because she deceif me--she come wit a plot--she steal in
here. Eef she had wait, all would be well."
"You mustn't _dare_ to touch her," said Minnie, vehemently. "You
_shall_ leave her here. She _shall_ stay with me."
"I am ver pain--oh, very; but oh, my angel--sweet--charming mees--eet
ees dangaire to my lof. She plot to take you away. An' all my life is
in you. Tink what I haf to do to gain you!"
Minnie looked upon Girasole, with her large eyes dilated with
excitement and resentment.
"You are a horrid, horrid man," she exclaimed. "I _hate_ you."
"Oh, my angel," pleaded Girasole, with deep agitation, "take back dat
word."
"I'm sorry you ever saved my life," said Minnie, very calmly; "and I'm
sorry I ever saw you. I _hate_ you."
"Ah, you gif me torment. You do not mean dis. You say once you lof
me."
"_I_ did not say I loved _you_. It was _you_ who said you loved _me_.
_I_ never liked _you_. And I don't really see how I _could_ be engaged
to you when I was engaged to another man before. He is the only one
whom I recognize now. I don't know you at all. For I couldn't be bound
to two men; could I, Ethel dear?"
Ethel did not reply to this strange question.
But upon Girasole its effect was very great. The manner of Minnie had
been excessively perplexing to him all through this eventful day. If
she had stormed and gone into a fine frenzy he could have borne it. It
would have been natural. But she was perfectly unconcerned, and her
only complaint was about trifles. Such trifles too! He felt ashamed to
think that he could have subjected to such annoyances a woman whom he
so dearly loved. And now he was once more puzzled. Minnie confronted
him, looking at him fixedly, without one particle of fear, with her
large, earnest, innocent eyes fastened upon his--with the calm, cool
gaze, of some high-minded child rebuking a younger child-companion.
This was a proceeding which he was not prepared for. Besides, the
child-innocence of her face and of her words actually daunted him. She
seemed so fearless, because she was so innocent. She became a greater
puzzle than ever. He had never seen much of her before, and this day's
experience of her had actually daunted him and confounded him. And
what was the worst to him of all her words was her calm and simple
declaration, "I hate you!"
"Yes," said Minnie, thoughtfully, "it must be so; and dear Kitty would
have said the same, only she was so awfully prejudiced. And I always
thought he was so nice. Yes, I think I really must be engaged to him.
But as for you," she said, turning full upon Girasole, "I hate you!"
Girasole's face grew white with rage and jealousy.
"Aha!" said he. "You lof _him_. Aha! An' you were engage to _him_.
Aha!"
"Yes, I really think so."
"Aha! Well, listen," cried Girasole, in a hoarse voice--"listen.
He--he--de rival--de one you say you are engage--he is dead!"
And with this he fastened upon Minnie his eyes that now gleamed with
rage, and had an expression in them that might have made Ethel quiver
with horror, but she did not, for she knew that Girasole was mistaken
on that point.
As for Minnie, she was not at all impressed by his fierce looks.
"I don't think you really know what you're talking about," said she;
"and you're very, very unpleasant. At any rate, you are altogether in
the wrong when you say he is dead."
"Dead! He is dead! I swear it!" cried Girasole, whose manner was a
little toned down by Minnie's coolness.
"This is getting to be awfully funny, you know," said Minnie. "I
really think we don't know what one another is talking about. I'm sure
_I_ don't, and I'm sure _he_ don't, either; does he, Ethel darling?"
"De Inglis milor," said Girasole. "He is dead."
"Well, but I don't mean him at all," said Minnie.
"Who--who?" gasped Girasole. "Who--who--who?"
"Why, the person I mean," said Minnie, very placidly, "is Rufus K.
Gunn."
Girasole uttered something like a howl, and retreated.