Lilly in Detroit.-- First and last Remorse.-- The reverend
Villain and his Victim enjoy the Hospitality of the
Michigan Exchange Hotel.-- A Scene.-- "Bland, am I to go
to your Mother's, as you promised?"-- The Clergyman(?)
"crazed."-- Everything, save Respectability.-- A Woman's
Will-- And a Man's Cajolement.
To the imagination of the wayward country girl Detroit was a great city,
and as she was whirled into the depot, where she saw the rushing river
beyond, and was hustled hither and thither by the clamorous cabmen, a
sense of giddiness came upon her, and for the first, and undoubtedly
last time, she yearned for the quiet of the old log farm-house by the
pleasant river.
Perhaps the old forms and faces called to her imploringly, pleading with
her, as only the simple things of home, however plain and commonplace,
can plead with the wandering one; and in a swift, agonized longing for
the restfulness which the meanest virtue gives, but which had forever
fled from her, the thought, if not the words:
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are these: It might have been"--
sped through her mind in a pitiful way; but just as she had almost
resolved to return to her parents, ask their forgiveness, and disclose
the character of the reverend villain, a man approached her, who,
saying he was "from Bland," conducted her to a carriage in waiting and
conveyed her to the Michigan Exchange Hotel, where she was fictitiously
registered, and the clerk informed that her brother would call for her
in the evening.
She had been assigned a very pretty room, elegantly furnished, and the
windows gave her a view of the river and the shipping, with Windsor and
the bluff hills of Canada beyond. It was all beautiful and wonderful to
her--the hotel a palace, the river, with its great steamers, vessels,
and ferries--a fairy scene; and Windsor, with the broken country beyond,
all covered by the soft, blue, gossamer veil of early autumn--a
beautiful dream!
With her thoroughly unprincipled nature there was a lazy sort of
enjoyment in all this; and when her dinner was brought to her room, as
had been previously ordered by the hackman, and she was gingerly served
by an ordinarily nimble waiter, but who took every possible occasion to
illustrate the fact that he was cultivated and she was not, she received
the attention in as dignified a manner as though born to rule, and had
been accustomed to the service of menials from infancy.
The afternoon wore away, and as the gas-lights began to flare out upon
the city, a gentle tap was heard at her door, and a moment after, before
an invitation to enter had been given, the oily Bland slid into Lilly's
apartment, closed the door after him, and turned the key in the lock.
Then he walked right over to where Lilly was sitting upon the sofa, and
took her in his arms, saying:
"Well, I see my dearest Lilly has kept her word."
She allowed him to fondle her just long enough to dare to repel him
gently, and answered:
"After what passed by the river, I could not do otherwise than keep my
word. Yes, your 'dearest Lilly' has kept her word. And what now, Mr.
Bland?"
Seeing that she was disposed to ask leading questions, he changed the
subject laughingly.
"Why, some supper, of course," and immediately rang the bell, ordering
of the servant, who appeared directly, a sumptuous spread, not
forgetting a bottle of wine.
During the preparation of the meal Lilly stepped to the window, and
pressing her restless face against the panes, seemed intently regarding
the dancing lights upon the broad river, while Bland whistled softly,
and warmed his delicate, pliable hands at the coals in the fireplace,
which gave to the chilly evening a pleasant, cheery glow. Suddenly she
stepped close to him, leaned her head in her left hand, her elbow
resting upon the marble mantel, while with her right hand she firmly
grasped his shoulder. She then said, in a quiet, determined way:
"Bland, am I to go to your mother's, as you promised?"
[Illustration: _"Bland, am I to go to your mother's as you
promised?"--_]
She said this in such a resolute, icy way, and her hand rested upon his
shoulder so heavily, that, for the first time, he looked at her as if
satisfied that he had a beautiful tigress in keeping, and it might
possibly require supreme will force to control her.
"No, Lilly, you will not go to my mother's."
"Then I will go home."
"You will not go home. You will remain here."
"Bland, no person on God's earth shall say 'will' to me. That is just as
certain as the course of that river!" and her long, trembling forefinger
swept towards the rushing stream.
The appearance of the waiter with supper quieted the conversation, which
was becoming stormy, and it was only resumed when Bland saw that Lilly
was mellowing under the influence of the wine, which thrilled through
her veins, pushing the rich, healthy blood to her cheeks, and lighting
her great gray eyes with a wonderful lustre. It could not be said that
he loved the girl, but he had a mad passion for her which was simply
overwhelming at these times when, untutored and uncultivated as she was,
she became truly queenly in appearance.
It was a dainty little supper served upon a dainty little table, and
they were sitting very closely together, and Bland, after feasting his
eyes upon her magnificent form for a time, drew her into his arms
impulsively, kissing her again and again, calling her endearing names,
and promising her everything that could come to the tongue of a talented
man made wild by wine and a woman.
"Lilly, you have crazed me--ruined me!" he said, excitedly. "You know
what I profess to be--a Christian minister! God forgive me for my cursed
weakness, but you have me in your power!"
Although her face rested against his, and their hot cheeks burned
together, the old wicked light gleamed in her eyes, and the crimson and
ashy paleness played upon the curled lip. If it all could have been seen
by the reverend gentleman, it would have sobered him. The words "in your
power" had flung the lightning into Lilly Nettleton's face. Power,
power, power! No matter how secured; no matter what the result. The very
word maddened her, made a scheming devil of her, but also made her ready
for any proposition Bland might offer, as it swiftly came into her mind
that the deeper she sank with him the greater would be her power over
him.
"Well?" she said, reassuringly.
"'Well?'--I am at your mercy. A knowledge of what has passed between us
would be my ruin; your ruin also. We have done what cannot be undone;
yes," he continued passionately, and drawing her closer to him, "what I
would not undo!"
"Well?" It was tenderly said, and gave him courage.
"I am rich, or will be, Lilly."
"If you are careful," she added with a light laugh.
"Exactly. I can do a great deal for you, and will----"
"Conditionally?"
"Yes, conditionally. The conditions are that you live quietly at an
elegant place to which we will shortly be driven. You will be mistress
of the place; that is, you will have everything you can desire----"
"Save respectability, Mr. Bland?"
She was shrewder than he--in fact, his master already; but hinted at
the sale of her soul so heartlessly that it shocked even him.
"You had 'respectability' at home, Lilly; and," glancing at her plain
garments, which were a burlesque upon her beautiful figure, "and old
clothes, and surveillance, and restraint, and----"
"Bland," she said, springing to her feet with such violence as to send
him sprawling to the floor, from which he stared in amazement at her
magnificent form, which trembled like a leaf, while the wicked lightning
gleamed from her eyes, and swift shuttles of color flashed back and
forth upon her lips; "Bland, be careful! Never speak to me again of the
meanness of my home. The meanness of your black heart is a million times
greater. You have something more than a country girl to deal with, sir;
you have a woman and a woman's will. It is enough that I have sold my
body and soul for what you can, or might, give me. I bargained for no
contempt; and, Bland," she continued, advancing towards him fiercely as
he regained his feet and retreated from her in dismay, "as sure as there
is a heaven, and as sure as there ought to be a hell for such as we, if
you begin it, I will kill you! Yes," she hissed, "I will kill you!" and
then, woman-like, having passed the climax of feeling and expression,
she threw herself on the bed for a good cry, while Bland, with wine and
words and countless caresses, soothed her wild spirit, bringing her back
to pliant good nature, where she was as putty in his dexterous hands.