THE DOCTOR'S WOOING.
Mrs. Ralston had become to Olive Girard as one of the family. There
was a strange affinity between the two women, who had known so much of
sorrow, so many dark, dark days. As yet, however, there was not entire
confidence. Mrs. Ralston knew nothing of the movements then on foot to
liberate the husband of her hostess; and Olive knew no more of Mrs.
Ralston's past than had been communicated by Claire, which was in
reality but very little.
Dr. Vaughan had become an ardent admirer of the grave, sweet, pale
lady, who had, in her turn, conceived a very earnest admiration for
him.
Always a close student of the human countenance, Mrs. Ralston had not
been long in reading in the face of the young man his regard for
Claire Keith. Having discovered this, she studied him still more
attentively, coming, at last, to the conclusion that he was worthy of
her beloved Claire.
But Claire appeared ever under a strange restraint in the presence of
Dr. Vaughan. She seemed always to endeavor to keep either her sister
or her friend at her side, as if she found herself more at ease while
in their proximity. Evidently she was keeping close guard over
herself. And just as evidently she was glad to be in the presence of
Clarence Vaughan when supported by her sister and friend, and safe
from a _tete-a-tete_.
Mrs. Ralston was really troubled by this apparent misunderstanding, or
whatever it might be, that rendered Claire less cordial towards Dr.
Vaughan than she would have been to one who was only a friend, and far
less worthy of friendship. She mentally resolved, when a fitting
opportunity should occur, to endeavor to win the confidence of the
girl, for she saw that two natures, formed to love each other, were
drifting apart, with no prospect of a better understanding. And that
opportunity came sooner than she had expected.
One day, a day destined to be always remembered by the chief actors in
our strange drama, Mrs. Ralston seated herself at a davenport in Mrs.
Girard's pretty library to write a letter to Mr. Lord. The promptness
and energy of that good man had completely baffled the acute
detective, and the danger which Mrs. Ralston had so much feared, the
danger of being discovered by her worthless husband, was now past.
She had entered the library through the drawing-room and, both rooms
being untenanted, had left the door of communication between them half
open.
Sitting thus, she heard the door of the drawing-room open, and the
rustle of feminine garments betokened the entrance of one of her
friends. Presently soft ripples of music fell upon her ear, and she
knew that it was Claire who was now at the piano, playing dreamily,
softly, as if half fearful of awakening some beloved sleeper.
After a few moments, the ripple changed to a plaintive minor
accompaniment, that had in it an undertone as of far-off winds and
waves. Then the full, clear voice of the girl rang out in that most
beautiful of songs, which alone should make famous the genius of Jean
Ingelow and Virginie Gabriel:
"When sparrows build and the leaves break forth,
My old sorrow wakes and cries."
The singer sang on, all unconscious that two listeners were noting the
passion and pain in her voice:
"How could I tell I could love thee to-day,
When that day I held not dear?
How could I know I should love thee, away,
When I did not love thee near?"
As the last note died away in sorrowful vibrations, Mrs. Ralston, in
the library, was conscious of tears trickling down her cheek.
At the same moment there was a discordant crash among the piano keys,
and Claire's voice was saying, almost angrily: "Dr. Vaughan! how came
you here? How dared you--"
There was a suspicious tremor in her voice, and she stopped speaking,
as if too proud to show how very much she had been thrown off her
guard.
"Forgive me, Miss Keith," the deep voice of Clarence Vaughan
responded. "Believe me, I did not intend my presence as an
impertinence. Your servant admitted me, and I thought it not wrong to
enter unannounced, although I hardly hoped to find you alone. Surely
you do not blame me for my silence while you sang?"
Claire made no reply. She was strongly tempted to fly and let Clarence
Vaughan think what he would. But before she could stir, he had moved a
step nearer and was looking straight down in her eyes.
"Claire," he said, in tones of reverential tenderness, "I have waited
for the time to come when I might say to you what you must let me say
now. You have seemed to avoid me of late; I can not guess why. And
to-day, as I listened to your song, a new thought, a new fear, has
entered my mind. Claire, tell me, have you read the love that has
been in my heart since I first saw your face, and have you sought to
shun me because you love another?"
While he was uttering this speech, Claire Keith had regained her
self-command, and her answer now came low and clear: "Dr. Vaughan, you
have not guessed aright. I have not avoided you because I love
another."
"Claire, nature did not make you an actress. There was love in your
voice when you sang that song!"
"Thank you," coolly; "I have been taught to sing with expression."
"Claire, Claire Keith, I beg you answer me truly; do you really
dislike me? You say you do not love another; could you learn to love
me?"
No answer.
"Tell me, Claire, do you not know how deeply I love you?"
Silence.
"Claire, Claire, speak to me. End this suspense. Will you not try to
love me?"
She moved away from him, and avoiding his eyes, answered in an odd,
hard voice: "No, Dr. Vaughan, I will not try to love you."
His next words were uttered almost tremulously. "Ah! I understand. I
have displeased you; tell me how."
"You have never displeased me. You are goodness itself. Let me pass,
Doctor Vaughan; I must not listen to you."
"Must not? Then you do avoid me?"
"Yes," almost inaudibly.
"Why?" stepping before her and cutting off her retreat.
"I won't tell you. Yes, I will, too. Oh, how blind you are! How can
you love me when--when there is some one better, better a thousand
times, and braver, too. Some one whose life needs your love, because
it has been so loveless always. I won't love you. I won't listen to
you. If you want me to be your friend, make the life that is giving
its best to others, as happy as it deserves to be. And--don't ever
talk--like this--to me again."
Before he could open his lips, or put out a hand to detain her, she
had rushed from the room.
Clarence Vaughan gazed after the flying form in speechless grief and
amazement. Then flinging himself into a chair, he bowed his head upon
his hands in sorrowful meditation. Sitting thus he did not perceive
the approach of some one, who laid a hand lightly upon his bowed head,
murmuring: "Blind! blind! blind!"
Starting up, he saw the face of Mrs. Ralston bending toward him and
wearing an expression of mingled compassion and amusement.
"Forgive me," she said, her countenance resuming its usual gravity. "I
was in the library, and heard all. I listened willfully, too, for I
have been observing you and Claire, and I want to help you."
Clarence dropped disconsolately back in his chair. "If you have heard
all," he said, "you know that it is useless to try to help me."
Mrs. Ralston laughed outright. "If you were not blind you would not
need my help," she said. "As it is, you do."
"Mrs. Ralston, what do you mean?"
"I mean that your battle is half won. If you will explain to me one
half her words, I will explain to you the other half."
"You are laughing at me," he said, wearily. "What can you explain?"
"That ridiculous girl commanded you to bestow your love upon some more
worthy object; some one who was living for others; or some such words.
Whom did she mean, may I ask?"
He started up as if inspired by a new thought. "I see!" he exclaimed;
"She must have meant--a very dear friend of hers."
He could not say the name that was in his thought. It would sound like
egotism.
"That is sufficient," said the lady. "Now, I am going to betray
Claire, as she has betrayed this other one. You foolish fellow, can't
you see that the child loves you and is striving to do a Quixotic
thing by giving you up to her friend? Think over her words and manner,
and don't take her at her bidding. If this other, to whom Claire
commands you to turn, is a true woman, she would not thank you for the
offer of a preoccupied heart."
"She is a true woman," said Clarence, emphatically. "And as dear to me
as a sister could be, but--"
"Then let her be a sister still," said Mrs. Ralston, quietly. "And
don't lose any time in persuading Claire that she is wronging herself
as well as you; and that you would be wronging still more this friend
whom you both love, were you to offer her so pitiful a thing as a hand
without a heart. She is a true woman, you say. If so, she would never
forgive that. Believe me, Dr. Vaughan, there are even worse depths of
sorrow than to have loved worthily--and lost."
Mrs. Ralston turned and went softly from the room.
For a few moments, Clarence Vaughan stood wrapped in thought. Then his
face became illuminated as he said, half aloud: "What a fool I have
been, that I should have so misunderstood that dear girl! Oh, I can be
patient now, and bide my time."
And now his reverie was broken in upon by Olive, who entered
hurriedly, saying: "Doctor Vaughan, are you here alone? I thought
Claire was with you."
He made no answer to this remark, but said, as he took her proffered
hand: "I ran down to tell you that I have taken the detectives off.
Jarvis is still in our pay, in case of emergency. He has sent his
report to Davlin, and a scant one it was. Of course, Davlin is glad to
have him withdraw; that is, if he knows, as he must, that the papers
are not in Percy's hands."
"Then all depends upon Madeline now?"
"All depends upon Madeline."
"Poor Philip," sighed Olive, "what would he say if he knew that his
fate rests in the hands of a mere girl?"
"If he knew of that 'mere girl' what we know, he would say that his
fate could not rest in better hands. No man ever had a more efficient
champion, nor one half so brave and beautiful."
They had not dared to tell Philip of the hope that was daily growing
stronger in their hearts; if they failed, he should be thrust back
into no gulf of black darkness because they had cheated him with a
false hope.