December snows lay deep upon the ground when Laurier left the hospital
two weeks after the fateful accident that had postponed his wedding.
His first visit was to Cora.
Having punished him as she deemed sufficiently, she was passionately
glad to see him again.
The fond arms twined about his neck, the dark head nestled against
his breast, the dewy red lips were upturned to meet his own, but as
he pressed them he remembered other lips, oh, so warm and sweet and
clinging, now pale and cold in death.
Ah, pale, pale, now those rosy lips
That once I kissed so fondly,
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me so kindly.
And moldering now in silent dust
The heart that loved me dearly,
But still within my bosom’s care
Shall live my Highland Mary!
Was it Laurier’s punishment for his sin that Jessie should haunt him
so, that her pale wraith should glide between him and his living love,
and make his lips cold to her kiss and his heart chill to her tender
embrace!
Time was when his blood had run like fire with those arms about his
neck, and that dark head on his breast, but how strangely all was
altered now, and what a deep depression hung over him, though he tried
to hide it from those searching, dark eyes, and to outdo her in the
warmth of his greeting.
“Dear Frank, how pale and ill you look! And--and--you do not kiss me as
of old. Are you vexed with me because I would not consent to a sick-bed
wedding?” archly.
“No, no, dear; why should I be? It was better to wait and have a public
wedding so as to display your lovely bridal gown, of course,” he
answered, forcing a smile.
“And you were not impatient?”
“I was too ill for that, you know.”
“Poor Frank! How you must have suffered! I hope you were not vexed
that I did not come to see you. But they told me you were looking so
frightfully ill I had not the heart lest I should scold you, for, after
all, everything was your own fault, you know, going to that girl’s
funeral.”
“Do not let us bring that subject up again, Cora. I only did what I
thought was my duty.”
“Duty! That kept you from your own wedding!” she cried reproachfully.
“Only for that we should be married now.”
“We can be married to-morrow if you are willing, Cora.”
“Nonsense! How could we? All the arrangements will have to be made over
again. And my maid of honor is out of town--gone South for a month.”
“You can choose another!”
“But she made me promise to wait her return!”
“I do not think that is at all necessary. Choose some other girl and
let us have the agony over!” abstractedly.
“The agony! Sir?” and Cora Ellyson almost transfixed him with the
indignant flash of her great, dark eyes.
He started, realizing he had made a blunder.
“Dear Cora, I beg your pardon, I did not mean to wound you. Do you not
understand my impatient mood? That it is agony to me, this waiting to
call you mine,” anxiously.
“Dear Frank, was that what you meant? I thought for a moment
that--that--but, no, it would be impossible you should look on our
marriage as a bore!”
“Impossible!” he echoed fervently, but in the bottom of his heart he
was terribly distressed at his own indifference, he who had once loved
Cora to madness.
He would not have had her find out the cruel truth for the world. He
played his part as a true lover still with amiable deceit, thinking
anxiously:
“This is but a caprice of illness. Love will come back.”
Alas!
Would Love his ruined quarters recognize
Where shrouded pictures of the past remain,
And gently turn them with forgiving eyes
If Love should come again?
Cora was charmed with the belief in his anxiety for the wedding. She
thought that absence had, indeed, taught him her value. With pretty
coquetry she pretended coyness in naming another wedding day just to
make him plead for haste.
Understanding what was expected of him, he continued to insist, until
she named a day just two weeks distant.
“And it shall be a home wedding this time. I could not bear to go to
church again after--that day! Oh, I knew it was ill-fated when we met
that horrible funeral! I wish I had turned back then and so escaped
the next cruel hour--the waiting, the anxiety, the curious faces, some
sympathetic, some sarcastic--the sinking at the heart, the bitter
resentment, believing myself jilted at the altar! Ah, Frank, there are
times when I feel as if I can never forgive you for the humiliation of
that hour!” cried Cora, in passionate excitement.
He took her burning hands and kissed them fondly, crying:
“I will make it all up to you, my darling, when I am your husband, by
the most patient devotion!”
And as he gazed at the dark, brilliant face that had once charmed him
so, he told himself that surely the old love would come back as soon as
that painful, lingering remorse over Jessie should fade from his mind.
Who could help loving beautiful Cora, even in spite of the glimpses
he had had of cruel depths in her mind? He would try to forget how
heartlessly she had acted to her hapless little rival and love her
again in spite of all.
He knew that scores of men envied him the prize he had won in the
promise of her hand; even Ernest Noel, his best man, scarcely disguised
the fact that he had fallen a victim to her witcheries, and frankly
envied his friend, so he was not surprised on going out to meet Noel
coming up the steps to call on Cora, as had now become his daily habit.