As Darrell entered his room its dim solitude seemed doubly grateful
after the glare of the crowded rooms he had lately left. His brain
whirled from the unusual excitement. He wanted to be alone with his own
thoughts--alone with this new, overpowering joy, and assure himself of
its reality. He seated himself by an open window till the air had cooled
his brow, and his brain, under the mysterious, soothing influence of the
night, grew less confused; then, partially disrobing, he threw himself
upon his bed to rest, but not to sleep.
Again he lived over the last few weeks at The Pines, comprehending at
last the gracious influence which, entering into his barren, meagre
life, had rendered it so inexpressibly rich and sweet and complete. Ah,
how blind! to have walked day after day hand in hand with Love, not
knowing that he entertained an angel unawares!
And then had followed the revelation, when the scales had fallen from
his eyes before the vision of lovely maiden-womanhood which had suddenly
confronted him. He recalled her as she stood awaiting his tardy
recognition--recalled her every word and look throughout the evening
down to their parting, and again he seemed to hold her in his arms, to
look into her eyes, to feel her head upon his breast, her kisses on his
lips.
But even with the remembrance of those moments, while yet he felt the
pressure of her lips upon his own, pure and cool like the dewy petals
of a rose at sunrise, there came to him the first consciousness of pain
mingled with the rapture, the first dash of bitter in the sweet, as he
recalled the question in her eyes and the half-whispered, "I wondered if
there might have been a 'Kathie' in the past."
The past! How could he for one moment have forgotten that awful shadow
overhanging his life! As it suddenly loomed before him in its hideous
blackness, Darrell started from his pillow in horror, a cold sweat
bursting from every pore. Gradually the terrible significance of it all
dawned upon him,--the realization of what he had done and of what he
must, as best he might, undo. It meant the relinquishment of what was
sweetest and holiest on earth just as it seemed within his grasp; the
renunciation of all that had made life seem worth living! Darrell buried
his face in his hands and groaned aloud. So it was only a mockery, a
dream. He recalled Kate's words: "I hardly dare go to sleep for fear I
will wake up and find it all a dream," and self-reproach and remorse
added their bitterness to his agony. What right had he to bring that
bright young life under the cloud overhanging his own, to wreck her
happiness by contact with his own misfortune! What would it be for her
when she came to know the truth, as she must know it; and how was he to
tell her? In his anguish he groaned,--
"God pity us both and be merciful to her!"
For more than an hour he walked the room; then kneeling by the bed, just
as a pale, silvery streak appeared along the eastern horizon, he
cried,--
"O God, leave me not in darkness; give me some clew to the vanished
past, that I may know whether or not I have the right to this most
precious of all thine earthly gifts!"
And, burying his face, he strove as never before to pierce the darkness
enveloping his brain. Long he knelt there, his hands clinching the
bedclothes convulsively, even the muscles of his body tense and rigid
under the terrible mental strain he was undergoing, while at times his
powerful frame shook with agony.
The silvery radiance crept upward over the deep blue dome; the stars
dwindled to glimmering points of light, then faded one by one; a roseate
flush tinged the eastern sky, growing and deepening, and the first
golden rays were shooting upward from a sea of crimson flame as Darrell
rose from his knees. He walked to the window, but even the sunlight
seemed to mock him--there was no light for him, no rift in the cloud
darkening his path, and with a heavy sigh he turned away. The struggle
was not yet over; this was to be a day of battle with himself, and he
nerved himself for the coming ordeal.
After a cold bath he dressed and descended to the breakfast-room. It was
still early, but Mr. Underwood was already at the table and Mrs. Dean
entered a moment later from the kitchen, where she had been giving
directions for breakfast for Kate and her guests. Both were shocked at
Darrell's haggard face and heavy eyes, but by a forced cheerfulness he
succeeded in diverting the scrutiny of the one and the anxious
solicitude of the other. Mr. Underwood returned to his paper and his
sister and Darrell had the conversation to themselves.
"Last night's dissipation proved too much for me," Darrell said,
playfully, in reply to some protest of Mrs. Dean's regarding his light
appetite.
"You don't look fit to go down town!" she exclaimed; "you had better
stay at home and help Katherine entertain her guests. I noticed you
seemed to be very popular with them last night."
"I'm afraid I would prove a sorry entertainer," Darrell answered,
lightly, as he rose from the table, "so you will kindly excuse me to
Miss Underwood and her friends."
"Aren't you going to wait and ride down?" Mr. Underwood inquired.
"Not this morning," Darrell replied; "a brisk walk will do me good." And
a moment later they heard his firm step on the gravelled driveway.
Mr. Underwood having finished his reading of the morning paper passed it
to his sister.
"Pretty good write-up of last night's affair," he commented, as he
replaced his spectacles in their case.
"Is there? I'll look it up after breakfast; I haven't my glasses now,"
Mrs. Dean replied. "I thought myself that everything passed off pretty
well. What did you think of Katherine last night, David?"