It had not entered into little Golden's plan for the discomfiture of
her scornful cousins, that anyone would have the temerity to approach
her in her character of the Glenalvan ghost. On the contrary, she had
confidently expected to spread fear, dismay and confusion among the
festive guests, and to effect her own escape unmolested and unsuspected.
What was her surprise and dismay to see a tall, dark, handsome man
start from Elinor's side, and cross the room toward her with the
evident purpose of accosting her!
Beautiful Golden was filled with fear and alarm. She turned swiftly and
fled down the long, dark corridor, her heart beating with dread lest
she should be overtaken and identified by her pursuer.
She thought of her grandfather's grief and mortification if he should
find out her girlish prank, and of her stern uncle's wrathful anger.
These swift thoughts seemed to lend wings to her light feet. She flew
rather than ran down the dark hall, but her rapid heart-beats could not
drown the quick and steady footsteps of her pursuer. They seemed to
come nearer and gain upon her.
To gain her own rooms in the western wing Golden would be compelled to
go up a wide stairway leading directly from the corridor in which she
was then running.
It dawned on her mind in the whirl of thoughts that rushed over her,
that it would be very unwise to return to the haunted rooms just then.
She believed that she would undoubtedly be pursued and captured if she
did.
It occurred to her that her best plan would be to escape into the open
air and hide herself in the belt of thick, dense shrubbery that grew
below the lake.
She knew every bend and turn, and secret nook within it. Her pursuer
did not. She could baffle him there.
Inspired by what seemed to her a happy thought, Golden flew past the
wide staircase and gained the outer door.
She flashed down the marble steps outside, and struck breathlessly
across the green lawn.
But swift and breathless as her flight had been, she had "a foe-man
worthy of her steel." Bertram Chesleigh had never faltered in his swift
pursuit of the supposed phantom.
If such a thing were indeed possible, he meant to capture the flying
form, and kiss the face whose beauty had struck him even through its
tragic expression of sorrow and despair.
He was light-footed and swift, and inspired by the novelty of the
chase. He was determined to keep his word to the handsome Elinor, if
possible.
He went over the marble steps at one flying bound that gained him a
great advantage over Golden. As he followed her over the lawn he was so
near that the frightened girl could hear his quick, panting breath, and
dreaded every moment to feel his outstretched hands clutch her white
shoulder.
It was a lovely night. The moon was at its full. Its white radiance
touched everything with weird beauty. It shone on the leaves, the
flowers, and the grass, and made the dew-drops glitter like diamonds.
Golden's white brocade shone with a silvery gleam as she fled through
the moonlight, her white arms and neck gleamed like ivory through the
golden mist of her streaming hair.
She had crossed the green expanse of the lawn in safety. Her light feet
struck into the path by the lake. When once she had crossed that path
she would be into the shrubbery. She felt sure that she might mislead
the determined follower then.
But the race had been an unequal one. That flying leap over the flight
of marble steps had decided the contest in the man's favor.
Scarce a minute more and the dreaded touch fell on her shoulder, two
strong arms were passed quickly around her waist, her head was drawn
back against a manly breast, and to Golden's horror and consternation,
she felt a pair of warm, mustached lips pressed fully and passionately
upon her own.
"Lovely Erma, may your spirit rest in peace after this fond kiss of
love," he cried; and Golden, trying vainly to struggle out of his
clasp, lifted her eyes and saw a dark, splendid, handsome face gazing
into her own, with large, black eyes that were full of eager admiration
and sparkled with pleasant excitement.
"Let me go!" she cried, with her blue eyes full of angry tears, "let me
go! How dared you--oh, how dared you _kiss_ me?"
But the strong arms held her fast, although Bertram Chesleigh began
to realize that it was not a phantom, but a real creature of flesh and
blood he had kissed so warmly.
He held her fast, and looked down with a smile into the girlish face
that was so very beautiful even through the crimson flush of anger.
"Do not be angry," he said. "You should be glad that I have kissed you."
"Why should I be glad?" she demanded, in a sharp, imperious little
voice.
The dark eyes of little Golden's captor sparkled with mirth at her
indignant question.
"They told me up yonder at the hall," he replied, "that if a handsome
man could catch and kiss the Glenalvan ghost its wandering spirit would
be laid forever. Do you think that you can rest easy in your grave now,
beautiful Erma?"
Golden wrenched herself from his clasp, but he still held her so
tightly by one hand that she could not leave him. She looked at him
with bright eyes in which anger and reluctant mirth were strangely
blended. His quaint humor was infectious.
"Do you think yourself so very handsome, sir?" she demanded.
"A lady told me so this evening," he replied, unblushingly. "One must
always take a lady's word, must not one, fair Erma?"
"I am not Erma," she replied, impetuously; "I am only Golden."
"Golden! What a beautiful name!" cried Golden's captor.
"Golden--_what_?"
"Golden Glenalvan," she replied.
"That is prettier still," he said; then he looked at her more closely.
"Are you any kin to Clare and Elinor?"
"Yes; we are cousins," the girl replied, frankly.
She forgot how strange it was for her to be standing there talking to
this stranger from whom she had been desperately fleeing a moment ago.
But the dark, mesmeric eyes held her gaze with a luring power; the
warm, soft hand that clasped her own, sent strange thrills of tingling
sweetness through every nerve.
When she had looked at the dark, handsome, smiling face once she liked
to look at it again. She forgot to feel afraid of him.
They were standing on the border of the lake. The moonlight made it
shine like a sheet of silver; but Bertram Chesleigh had no eyes for its
beauty while the fair, fresh face of that innocent girl was lifted to
his.
He said to himself that in all his life he had never seen anyone half
so lovely.
"And you are not a ghost, after all?" he said.
"No; I was only masquerading," she replied. "I did it to frighten my
cousins and spoil their party. Do you think I have succeeded?" she
inquired, with _naive_ anxiety.
He looked a little surprised.
"I do not know, I am sure," he said. "Why did you wish to spoil their
pleasure?"
"Because they would not invite me to go, and said cruel things to me,
besides," answered Golden, with a heaving breast.
"Why would they not invite you?" he inquired, more surprised than ever.
"Elinor said I was _too young_, but I should sooner think that grandpa
guessed the true reason!" she replied with innocent frankness.
"What did grandpa guess?" he inquired.
"They were afraid for Uncle John's rich guest to see me. They mean to
marry him to Elinor," she replied, readily, and without a suspicion
that it was the "rich guest" himself who held her small hand that
moment so warmly and tightly in his own.
Bertram Chesleigh laughed long and merrily, and the little girl awoke
to a sense of her imprudence.
"Oh? I should not have talked to you so," she cried. "They will be very
angry. Oh, please don't tell anyone I was the ghost! Grandpa would
scold me, and I could not bear that."
At that moment the murmur of voices and laughter was borne to them on
the breeze from the hall door.
"Your friends are coming to look for you," she cried. "Oh! _do_ let go
my hand. I must hide myself. You will not betray my secret?"
"No; I will keep it faithfully, Golden," he replied, then he kissed her
small hand and released her, for he did not wish his friends to find
him with her.
She darted away like a bird, and hid herself in the shrubbery. The
young man lighted a cigar and turned back to meet his friends.
"Did you catch the ghost? Did you kiss her?" they asked him, eagerly.
"I was never so outwitted in my life," he replied. "Would you believe
it if I should tell you that I pursued her across the lawn to the
border of the lake, and that just as I might have touched her with my
hand she sprang into the water and not a ripple on the surface showed
where she had gone down?"
This clever and non-committal reply was accepted as a statement of
facts by the credulous. The romantic story spread from one to another
rapidly.
Bertram Chesleigh found himself quite a hero a few minutes after he had
returned to the house. But though they praised his bravery, everyone
chaffed him because he had failed to get the kiss from the beautiful
phantom.