STRUGGLING AGAINST FATE.
When Claire left the drawing-room, Madeline had started up as if about
to follow her. Recalling herself, she sat down again, keeping, as
before, near to Olive, and taking as little share in the conversation
as was possible. She dared not trust herself too much; her good
resolves were strong, but not stronger than was the charm of his voice
and presence.
"Let them think me uncivil," she murmured to herself; "what does it
matter now?"
But her trial was not over. Olive and Clarence had held frequent
council together concerning the wayward girl, and how they could best
influence her aright without breaking the letter or spirit of their
promise to her. And the absence of Claire added to their freedom of
speech.
Olive had intimated to Doctor Vaughan that Madeline had taken some,
perhaps unsafe, steps in the pursuit of her enemies. He, understanding
the impetuosity of the girl, as well as her reckless fearlessness,
could not conceal the anxiety he felt.
Acting under an impulse of disinterested kindness, Clarence Vaughan
crossed the room and sat down by Madeline's side.
"Miss Madeline," he said, as respectfully as if to an empress, "we,
Mrs. Girard and myself, cannot get rid of the idea that somehow you
partly belong to us; that we ought to be given a little, just a very
little, authority over you."
There was a shade of bitterness in the girl's answer. "You have the
_right_ to exercise authority over me, if you choose to do so. You are
my benefactors."
They felt the reproof of her words. This keen-witted, uncontrollable
girl, was putting up barrier upon barrier between herself and their
desire to serve her. Very quietly he answered her:
"You do us an injustice, when you suggest that we claim your
confidence on the score of any indebtedness on your part. It has been
our happiness to serve you. If we have not your esteem, if we may not
stand toward you in the light of a brother and sister, anxious only
for your welfare and happiness, then we have no claim upon you."
"My happiness!"
The face was averted, but the lips were pale and drawn, and the words
came through them like a moan.
Olive stirred uneasily. She could see that the girl was suffering,
although she did not guess at the cause.
"Yes," continued Clarence, laying his hand gently upon hers;
"Madeline,--will you let me call you Madeline?--will you let me be
your brother? I have no sister, almost no kin; I won't be an exacting
brother," smilingly. "I won't overstep the limits you set me, but we
must have done with this nonsense about benefactors, and gratitude,
and all that."
No answer, eyes down dropped, face still half-averted, and looking as
if hardening into marble.
"What is my fate?" still holding her hand. "Can you accept so unworthy
a brother?"
"Yes," in such a cold, far-away tone.
He lifted the hand to his lips. "Thank you, Madeline," he said, as if
she had done him high honor.
Madeline felt her courage failing her. How could she listen to him,
talk to him, with anything like sisterly freedom, and not prove false
to her resolve to further his cause with Claire? And yet how could she
refuse him the trust he asked of her?
It was very pleasant to know that he was thus interested in her; she
felt herself slipping quickly into a day-dream in which nothing was
distinct save that there existed a bond between them, that he had
claimed the right to exercise authority over her, and that she was
very, very glad even to be his slave. Listening to his voice, a smile
crept to her lips, and--
"The eyes smiled too,
But 'twas as if remembering they had wept,
And knowing they would some day weep again."
"I don't intend to give up my claims upon Madeline; I elected her my
sister, when I brought her home with me. And I had been flattering
myself that I was to have a companion, but I am afraid she will run
away from me. She ought to take Claire's place in my home, ought she
not? Claire is with me so little," said Olive.
Madeline smiled sadly. "I could never do that," she said; "I could no
more fill Claire's place than I could substitute myself for the rays
of the sun."
"Claire would laugh at you for that speech," said Olive.
"But it is true; is it not?" appealing to Doctor Vaughan.
He colored slightly under her gaze. "We don't want two Claires," he
said; "but you can be yourself, and that will make us happy."
The girl let her eyes fall, and rest upon her clasped hands.
"I would like to make you happy," she said, softly.
"Really?"
"Really," lifting her eyes to his face.
"Then, promise us that you will let us help to right your wrongs, and
that you will come back, like a good sister, and stay with Mrs.
Girard."
Her face hardened. "I can not," she said, briefly.
"You will not," seriously.
No answer.
"Madeline, what is it you wish to do?"
"What I wish to do, I can not. I can tell you what I intend to do,"
sitting very erect.
"Then what do you intend?"
"I intend," turning her eyes away from them both, and fixing them
moodily upon the fire, "to follow up the path in which I have set my
feet. I intend to oust a base adventuress from the home that was my
mother's; to wrest the fortune that is mine from the grasp of a bad
old man, and make him suffer for the wrong he did my mother. I intend
to laugh at Lucian Davlin, when he is safe behind prison bars; to hunt
down and frustrate an impostor, and by so doing, clear the name of
Philip Girard before all the world." Her voice was low, but very firm,
dogged almost, in its tone.
He turned a perplexed face toward Olive.
"What does it all mean?" he asked.
"What she says," replied Mrs. Girard, flushing with suppressed
excitement. "She has found a clue that may lead to Philip's release."
He moved nearer to the girl, and taking her hand, drew her toward him,
until she faced him. "Madeline, is this true?"
"Yes."
"And you will hold me to a promise not to lift a hand to help clear
the name of my friend?" reproachfully.
"Yes," unflinchingly.
"Are you doing right, my sister?"
She attempted to draw away her hand.
"Child, what can you do?"
She turned her eyes toward Olive. "She will tell you what I have done.
I can do much more."
Olive came suddenly to her side. "Oh, Madeline!" she said, "let him
take all this into his hands. It is not fit work for you. It will
harden you, make you bitter, and--"
Madeline wrested her hand away and sprang up, standing before them
flushed and goaded into bitterness.
"Yes," she cried, wildly, "I know; you need not say it. It will harden
me; it has already. It will make me bitter and bad, unfit for your
society, unworthy of your friendship. I shall be a liar, a spy, a
hypocrite--but I shall succeed. You see, you were wrong in offering me
your friendship, Doctor Vaughan. I shall not be worthy to be called
your sister, but," brokenly, "you need not have feared. I never
intended to presume upon your friendship; I never intended to trouble
you after--after my work is done. Ah! how dared I think to become one
of you--I, whom you rescued from a gambler's den; I who go about
disguised, and play the servant to people whom you would not touch.
You are right; after this I will go my way alone."
Her voice became inarticulate, the last word was a sob, and she turned
swiftly to leave the room.
Olive sprang forward with a remorseful cry, but Clarence Vaughan
motioned her back, and with a quick stride was at the door, one hand
upon it, the other firmly clasping the wrist of the now sobbing girl.
Closing the door, which she had partially opened, he led her back,
very gently, but firmly, and placing her in a chair, stood beside her
until the sobs ceased. Then he drew a chair close to her own, and
said, softly:
"My little sister, we never meant this. These are your own morbid
fancies. Because you are playing the part of amateur detective, you
are not necessarily cut off from all your friends. We would not give
you up so easily, and there is too much that is good and noble in you
to render your position so very dangerous to your womanhood. You have
grieved Mrs. Girard deeply by imputing any such meaning to her words.
Can't you understand, child, that it is because we care for you,
because we want to shield you from the hardships you must of necessity
undergo, that we wish you to let us work with and for you?"
Madeline shivered and gave a long, sobbing sigh. He took both listless
hands in his own.
"Now, sister mine, won't you make me a promise, just one?"
Her hands trembled under his. How could she resist him when his
strong, firm clasp was upon her; when he was looking into her eyes
pleadingly, even tenderly; when his breath was on her cheek, and his
voice murmured in her ear? She sat before him, contrite, conquered,
strangely happy; conscious of nothing save a wish that she might die
then and there, with her hands in his. She was afraid to speak and
break the spell. He had said that he cared for her, was not that
enough?
"Tell me, Madeline."
"Yes," she breathed, rather than uttered.
[Illustration: "Yes," she cried, wildly, "I know; you need not say
it"--page 219.]
"Thank you. Now, sister, we are going to trust to your sagacity in
this matter. But you must promise me, as your brother, who is bound to
look after your welfare, that you will take no decisive steps without
first informing us, and that as soon as the work becomes too heavy for
your hands, you will call upon me to help you. My sister will surely
do nothing that her brother cannot sanction?"
She dropped her eyes and said, simply: "I will do what you wish me
to."
"You will give me your confidence, then?"
"Yes."
"Am I to hear a complete history of all that has happened thus far
from Mrs. Girard?"
"Yes."
"And, after hearing it, may I communicate with you?"
She glanced up in surprise.
"Or," continued he; "better still, may I come down to Bellair and talk
things over with you, should I deem it advisable?"
"If you wish;" looking glad.
"Mind, I don't want to intrude; I will not come if you don't desire
it; but I shall wish to come. And you may manage our interviews as you
see fit. I will do nothing to compromise you in the eyes of the people
you are among. May I come?"
"Yes;" very softly, and trembling under his hand.
"Then we will say no more about all this to-night. You have already
abused your strength, and if you don't get rest and sleep we shall
have you ill again, and then what would become of our little
detective?"
Olive came forward with outstretched hands and pleading eyes. "I can't
wait any longer to be forgiven for my thoughtless words," she said.
"Madeline, you will forgive me?"
"Of course Madeline will," replied Clarence. "Now you had better
forgive Madeline for putting such a perverse construction upon your
words, and then we will send her away to get the rest she must have."
"I was abominable, Olive," said the girl, so ruefully that Clarence
laughed outright. "Of course, I know you are too kind to say a cruel
thing. I--I believe I was trying to quarrel with you all; do forgive
me."
"Of course you were trying to quarrel with us; and I haven't a bit of
faith in your penitence now, young lady," said Clarence, rising and
smiling. "I can't believe in you until I am assured that you will go
to bed straightway, and swallow every bit of the wine I shall send up
to you."
"With something nice in it," suggested Olive.
"With something very nice in it, of course. Now, will you obey so
tyrannical a brother, and swallow his first brotherly prescription
without making a face?"
All his kindness and care for her comfort brought a thrill of gladness
to the girl's heart, and some of the old _debonnaire_, half-defiant
light back to her eyes, as she replied, while rising from her chair,
in obedience to a gesture of playful authority from Clarence, "Will I
accept a scolding and go to bed, that means."
Then making a wry face and evidently referring to the wine: "Is it
very bitter?"
"Not very; but you must swallow every drop."
"And I will order the wine," said Olive, touching the bell. "You know,
Dr. Vaughan, that Madeline leaves us in the morning?"
"No?" in surprise. "Must you go so soon?"
"Yes," demurely, "unless I am forbidden."
"We are too wise to forbid you to do anything you have set your heart
on. Then I must tell you good-by here and now, for a little time."
"Or a long one," gravely.
"Not for a long one. 'If the mountain won't come,' you know;--well, if
I don't get _very_ satisfactory reports from you, look out for me."
"You can't get at me," wickedly.
"Can't I? Wait and see. I'll come as your grandfather, or your maiden
aunt."
"Please don't," laughing, "one spinster is enough."
"Well, I won't, then; I think I'll come as your father confessor."
At this Olive joined in the laugh.
"Good-night, Dr. Vaughan."
"Good-night, Miss Payne," with exaggerated emphasis and dignity, but
holding fast to her hand.
She looked at the hand doubtfully, then up into his face.
"Good-night--brother," with pretty shyness.
"That is better," releasing the little hand. "Good-night, sister mine.
Mind you drink every drop of the wine."
"I will!" quite seriously. "Good-night, Olive."
Olive stooped and kissed her cheek. "Good-night, dear," she said, "and
happy dreams."
Dr. Vaughan opened the door for her, and smiled after her as she
looked back from the foot of the stairs. Then closing the door he came
back, and stood on the hearth-rug, looking thoughtful.
"It is a difficult nature to deal with, and in her present mood, a
dangerous one. She is painfully sensitive, and possesses an
exceedingly nervous temperament. Then, that episode with Davlin was
very humiliating to her, and it is constantly in her mind. Evidently
she has lately been under much excitement, and she is hardly herself
to-night. I think, however, if I were you, I would make no further
effort to dissuade her from her purpose. It will do no good, and harm
might come of it."
"Indeed, I will not," said Olive. "How thankful I am that you were
here; your calmness and tact has saved us something not pleasant. I
don't think I could have managed her myself."
"Probably not; and now I will prepare a soothing and sleeping draught,
and then, as it is late, will detain you no longer. Perhaps you had
better see that the draught is administered."
Olive gladly accepted the charge, and shortly after Doctor Vaughan
took his departure, wise and yet blind; blind as to the true cause of
Madeline's outbreak and subsequent submissiveness.
Madeline obeyed to the letter the instructions of Doctor Vaughan. As a
result, she fell asleep almost immediately, before calm thought had
come to dispel her mood of dreamy happiness.
In the morning she awoke quieted, refreshed, and quite mistress of
herself. She did not once refer to the events of the previous evening.
Only, before taking leave of Claire, she whispered in her ear:
"Dear Claire, you can make a noble man happy. Let his love atone to
you for this present bitterness. God bless you both."
It was an odd speech, truly. But as Madeline turned her back upon the
pretty villa, and was driven swiftly to the railroad depot, she
wondered why Claire had responded to it only with a passionate kiss
and with tears in her beautiful eyes.
And Claire, having seen her driven from the door, fled precipitately
to her room. Locking herself in, she fell upon her knees beside a low
chair. Burying her face in her hands she wept bitterly,--not for
herself, but for the girl who was so heroically resigning to another
the man she loved; who was going forth, alone, to encounter hardship,
perhaps danger, to fight single-handed, not only her own battles, but
those of her friends as well.
"And I dared to judge her," said the girl, indignantly. "I presumed to
criticise the delicacy of this grand, brave nature! Why, I ought to be
proud to claim her friendship, and I am!"
From that hour, let Madeline's course seem ever so doubtful, let Olive
fear and doubt as she would, Claire Keith stoutly defended every act,
and averred that Madeline could do nothing wrong. And from that hour,
Claire began to plot upon her own responsibility.
* * * * *
In due course Doctor Vaughan called, and was closeted with Olive a
very long time--rather, with Olive and Claire, for this young lady had
surprised her sister, by expressing a desire to hear what Doctor
Vaughan would say of Madeline's adventures. To tell the truth, Claire
had fancied that Clarence would criticise more or less, and it was in
the capacity of champion for the absent that she appeared at the
interview.
After the matter had been fully discussed, Doctor Vaughan addressed
himself to Claire: "Miss Keith, you have been a good listener. Won't
you give us your opinion as to the achievements of our little friend?"
Claire came forward, with a charming mixture of frankness and
embarrassment: "First, let me make the _amende honorable_, Doctor
Vaughan. I presented myself at this interview with the full intention,
and for the express purpose, of waging war upon you both, if
necessary, and I had no doubt that it would be."
Doctor Vaughan looked much astonished.
"But," pursued Claire, "I have misjudged you. I did not think you
would so heartily approve of Madeline's course, and I was bristling
with bayonets to defend her."
"I must own to being of Claire's opinion," interposed Olive, looking
somewhat amused.
Clarence smiled and then looked thoughtful.
"I can easily understand," he said, seriously, "how you ladies might
have looked upon the course Miss Payne has taken, as an objectionable,
even an improper, one. The position in which she has placed herself
is, certainly, an unusual, a startling one for a woman of refinement
and delicacy. But we must consider that the occasion is also an
unusual one, and ordinary measures will not apply successfully to
extraordinary cases. As to the impropriety, no one need fear to trust
his or her honor in the keeping of a woman as brave and noble as
Madeline Payne is proving herself."
"Then you do not censure Madeline for refusing to trust the matter in
the hands of a detective?" questioned Olive.
"The matter _is_ in the hands of a detective, Mrs. Girard; in the
hands of the shrewdest and ablest little detective that could, by any
possibility, have been found. Why, Madeline has accomplished, in a
short time, what the best detectives on our regular force might have
labored at for a year, and then failed of achieving!"
Claire threw a look of triumph at her sister. "Oh, how glad I am to
hear you say all this, and how glad Madeline would be." Then she
checked herself suddenly.
"I can suggest but one improvement upon the present state of things,"
said Clarence, after a moment's reflection. "That is, if we can
persuade Madeline to permit it, and I think we can, we should set two
men at work, neither one to be aware of the employment of the other.
One to trace out as much of the past of this man Percy, as may be. The
other to perform the same office for Davlin. Of course, they would not
be advised of the actual reason for these researches, and so their
investigations would in no way interfere with Madeline's pursuit of
the game at Oakley. I don't think we could improve upon the present
arrangement there."
"And how do you propose to bring this about?" questioned Olive.
"By going down to Bellair, as soon as I can get the necessary
permission from our little _generalissimo_, and talking the matter
over with her. I think she will see the propriety of the move, don't
you?" appealing to Claire.
"I think she will follow your advice," gravely.
"I hope she will," said Olive.
"I _know_ she will do exactly right," asserted Claire, so positively
that they both smiled.
"I think I may venture to agree with you, Miss Keith," said Dr.
Vaughan.
"You had better, both of you, where Madeline is concerned," looking
ferocious.
"I begin to think that valor is infectious," laughed Olive, and
Clarence joined in the laugh.
Altogether the result of their council was pleasing to each of the
three. Olive was hopeful; Clarence was full of enthusiasm, and more
deeply in love than ever with generous Claire; and she was pleased
with his frank admiration of Madeline's courage, and full of hope for
Madeline's future.
"He admires her now. He will love her by and by," she assured herself.