THE COURSE OF LOVE DOES NOT RUN SMOOTH.
Just before leaving, Godfrey went to Gertie, and, bending over her
whispered a few words so low that no one heard them except the one for
whom they were intended, and whose eye brightened as he said:
“Good-by, darling. I must go now, but shall come early to-morrow
morning.”
He was holding her hand, and he noticed the absence of the ring and the
scratch the stone had made when it was wrenched away. Instantly a cloud
passed over his face and he looked searchingly at Gertie, but she knew
nothing; and then he glanced at me.
“Ettie, if you find anything of value about Gertie’s person, or on the
floor, keep it till I come again,” he said; and then I knew he meant the
ring, and was puzzled more than ever.
Should I tell him where it was. No; he would see it for himself, I
decided, as he went out from the room and joined his father and the
ladies at the door.
Alice’s gloves were ruined, and she stood holding my water-proof around
her with the bare hand on which the gem was shining. But Godfrey did not
see it until he helped her into the carriage, when the stone pressed
hard against his hand, making him start as if he had been stung, or,
rather, as if that ring on Alice’s finger had riveted anew the fetters
he had been so glad to break. How came she by it, and what did it mean?
Surely not that he was hers again. A thousand times no, when he
remembered the mighty love for another surging through his veins and
making him so wildly happy. He was honorably free. Alice had made him so
herself, and even his father could not gainsay that or think the
Schuyler reputation for honor compromised in the least. A man could not
marry a woman who would not marry him, who had told him so with angry
words and biting sarcasms. Godfrey was in high spirits, and his manner
was not like that of one who has been so near to death. He could even
joke with Robert and Emma, and would have rallied Alice on her forlorn
and bedraggled appearance when she came to him on the shore, if he had
not remembered the scene which had followed that coming, when the ring
of betrothal was hurled at him so fiercely. How it flashed and shone
upon her hand, which, it seemed to him, was continually thrust upon his
sight, now on the table, now on the back of the chair, now on the
mantel,—everywhere he turned his eyes there was the restless hand and
the diamond sparkling on it, and seeming to say to him that his freedom
was not so sure. At last, when he could bear the sight no longer, he
sauntered away to his father’s present business-room, where he sat down
alone to think of Gertie, and wonder if it would be greatly out of place
for him to go and inquire for her that night instead of waiting till
morning.
And while he sat thinking there was a knock upon the door, and Alice
came in with a grieved look in her face and tears in her eyes, as she
said:
“Have you nothing to say to me, Godfrey? You have scarcely spoken to me
since the accident.”
“What shall I say to you, Allie?” Godfrey asked, not unkindly; and then
Alice’s tears fell in torrents as she burst out, impetuously:
“Oh, Godfrey, say you do not mind what I said to you on the river-bank.
I was angry, jealous, furious, because you put me away to save another,
and kissed her before my eyes, and called her your darling. I think I
must have been crazed to say what I did, and throw my engagement ring
away. But I have it again. I took it from her hand and put it back on
mine. See, it is here; look, Godfrey, and tell me it is just as it was
with us.”
To say that Godfrey was unmoved by this appeal would be wrong, for
though he had never loved Alice, he did not dislike her, and would
gladly have spared her pain could he have done so without compromising
himself again: but he could not; he must be frank with her now, and
settle their relations to each other at once and forever, and he said to
her: “But, Allie, it is _not_ with us as it was, and it never can be
again. I do not wish to hurt you unnecessarily, and I mean to be as
gentle and kind as I’d want a great brute of a fellow to be with my
sister under similar circumstances. Allie, I have never supposed that
you imagined our engagement to be one of _love_. We liked each other,
and were taught to think it was the proper thing for us to marry. I did
not love you very much, and you did not love me——”
“But, Godfrey, I can now,” Alice sobbed; and Godfrey replied:
“Not as you will love some one else by and by; while I,—Allie, I believe
I have loved Gertie Westbrooke since she was a child, but I did not know
it until I was engaged to you, and met her here a woman. Then it came
upon me, and for a time I was miserable. But I meant to keep my word to
you, and should have done so if you had not yourself set me free. I do
not ask if you knew what you were saying. I accept the fact, and cannot
go back on it. It was not a manly act to thrust you aside in the water,
but I did not know what I was doing, for Gertie was drowning and calling
on me to save her, and I had no thought for anything else. I shall ask
her to be my wife, and if she refuses, as she may, I shall bide my time
and ask her again; have her I must; but, Allie, you and I will be
friends always, just the same, and try to forget the past summer, which
has not brought much happiness to either of us. I have been constantly
fighting against my love for another, and you have been dissatisfied at
not receiving from me all you had a right to expect. And it would grow
worse, all the time, and it is better to end it now. If you like the
ring, keep it, as you would a gift from your brother, and let me be a
brother to you. I cannot be anything else. Will you, Allie?”
Never in her life had Alice Creighton prized Godfrey as she did then
when she knew she was losing him, and her slight form shook with sobs,
but she did not withdraw the hand he took in his, and when he said
again: “Shall it be so, Allie! Shall we be friends?” she answered: “Yes,
Godfrey,” and hurriedly left the room.