Jennie Arlington sat disconsolately at a window in Mr. Leonard’s
library. She was not alone. Mr. Augustus Wilson occupied a chair by
her. They had been conversing for a short time.
“It is a distressing affair to Mr. Leonard,” he said. “This thing of
finding himself robbed of valuable goods on every side, and quite
unable to trace the thief, is a source of great annoyance, and may
prove ruinous in the end.”
“I know it, Mr. Wilson,” she replied, “and wish I could help it.”
“You may be able to do something to help it,” he said, significantly.
“What do you mean?” she exclaimed, with a sudden flashing up.
“Simply that Mr. Leonard saw a piece of the lost silk in your
possession. He seems to think that you got it from the boy, Will
Somers.”
“Does he?” she asked, coldly.
Her visitor’s sharp glance could detect a nervousness beneath her
apparent ease.
“Yes. I might have given him a different idea of the case, but thought
it best to keep silent. I know, Miss Arlington, as well as yourself,
that you did not get the silk from the boy. I know, as well as you,
where it came from. I can appreciate your wish to keep silent, but
something is due to Mr. Leonard.”
“You assume to know a great deal,” she said, defiantly.
“Not much assumption about it,” he coolly replied. “The thing is patent
on its face. John Elkton is the man, and you cannot deny it.”
“John Elkton is no thief, as you insinuate,” she cried, red with anger.
“I would much sooner believe such things of you than of him. I doubt if
your honesty would weigh in the scale with his.”
“Facts are stubborn things,” he coolly replied. “I am not on trial now.
He is. You must excuse me for speaking, Miss Arlington. John Elkton was
connected with the theft of that silk, and I have abundant proof of it.”
“You have not, and you cannot have,” she answered, rising, but leaning
heavily upon her chair. “If you came here on purpose to insult me,
I can only say that you have succeeded, and that this interview had
better close.”
“I am sorry to have offended you,” he replied. “I certainly had no such
purposes as that. I came here to serve, instead of annoy you.”
“Serve me? In what way?” she asked. A pallor had replaced the flush.
“By keeping your secret. I alone have these proofs against John Elkton.
I can suppress them. Of course I must aid Mr. Leonard in seeking the
other thieves, but if the proofs in my possession are destroyed Elkton
cannot be implicated. It is consideration for your feelings brings me
here. I knew you would not wish him to be held as a felon.”
“No, indeed!” she said, clutching the chair, nervously.
“I am aware of your relations with him, and how bitterly you would feel
any such disgrace, as your betrothal is known to all your friends. Of
course your engagement must be broken. I care nothing for him, I care
much for you, and wish to save you from disgrace. Your engagement can
be quietly broken and the cause suppressed.”
“You are very kind, Mr. Wilson,” she said, turning a quick glance upon
him. “What object have you in this?”
“Nothing but your good,” he replied, in his slow, steady way. “I have
your welfare so deeply at heart that I would run any risk or do any
deed to aid you.”
“Indeed!” she said. “I did not know I had so warm a friend in you.”
“You did know it,” he answered, abruptly. “You trifle with me now. You
affect to forget our past intercourse, to forget that I opened the
secret of my heart to you on a former occasion.”
“Yes, I remember your making a goose of yourself by making love to
me when I was but a child,” she replied, with a curl of the lip. “I
laughed at you then as I should laugh now at anything ridiculous.”
“I loved you then, as I love you now,” he said earnestly. “I forbore
to press my claim when your fancy was turned elsewhere. I believe it
was but a girl’s fancy that drew you to John Elkton. That dream is
past now. You are a woman, and are free. I have a right now to press
the love that I have nursed in silence till it has grown too strong to
suppress. I have a claim on you that gives me the right to speak of
my affection. I love you. You are or will be free. May I not offer my
sincere affection? May I not lay claim to this dear hand? I who have so
long loved you in silence and hopelessness?”
He attempted to take her hand, which she quickly withdrew. She still
leaned upon her chair, with pallid face and set, compressed lips.
“When I am free I will let you know,” she said, with a touch of
sarcasm. “It would be well for you to suppress this sudden passion
till then. I do not imagine that you will die young from the pangs of
unrequited love. I despise you too much to give a serious answer to
such an unmanly and insulting suit.”
She walked with a queenly step across the room toward the door.
“Very well, then,” he cried, angrily. “You accept the other
alternative. I will at once inform Mr. Leonard and the officers of what
I have learned. Before this time to-morrow John Elkton shall be the
tenant of a prison, and shall know that you have consigned him there.”
“And do you think,” she exclaimed, turning on him sharply and suddenly,
“that I am such a weak and soulless woman as to desert the man I love
because he has fallen a victim to the schemes of a villain? Nay, more,
that I would sell myself, body and soul, to that villain to save my
betrothed? Do your worst, sir. I defy and scorn you. I would rather wed
John Elkton in a prison than you in a palace. But I believe that you
are a liar and a knave outright.”
“You have defied me; that is enough,” he said, with a gloomy and
resolute air. “But it is passion only that speaks in you. You will
return to reason and be sorry for what you have said.”
“Never, sir, never!” she cried, passionately. “You have put yourself
beyond the pale of my consideration by your base effort. This interview
has lasted long enough. I cannot and will not bear it longer.”
She turned and swept through the door like an offended queen, without
another look at the man, who stood there pale and discomfited, biting
his lips in impotent anger.