"Yes, Queenie was quite sick for more than a month after we returned
from abroad. She is not strong yet, but she has promised to come down
into the drawing-room for a little while this evening."
It was Mrs. Lyle who spoke, in the calmest, most composed tone in the
world. She was leaning back in her chair, richly dressed in silk and
lace and fluttering her fan as she talked to Captain Ernscliffe who
leaned over the back of her chair, tall, handsome and stately, the most
distinguished-looking man in the room.
Mrs. Lyle was giving a small reception after her return, and had bidden
the _creme de la creme_ of society only, to welcome her home.
There were beautiful women in plenty present, and none but had a
flattering smile for Captain Ernscliffe, but though he smiled and
chatted with all, he still kept looking over even the fairest heads
toward the door for one absent face while his heart thrilled with
anxiety and expectation.
She came at last, and though he had been watching for her so long he
scarcely knew her when she entered. He had expected to see a little,
fairy-like creature, with a sunny smile and falling ringlets, and cheeks
like pinkest rose leaves. Instead, there entered a tall, pale, graceful
girl, clad in a dress of white lace ornamented with knots of purple,
golden-hearted pansies. The crimson lips were set in a proud curve
instead of a smile, and the dark fringe of her lashes swept so low that
they almost shadowed her cheeks. Her golden hair was confined in a thick
braid and wound about her head like a coronet, making her seem as
stately as a young princess.
She was changed, greatly changed, from a year ago, and yet none who
looked at the fair, calm face, with pride sitting regnant on the broad,
white brow, would have dreamed that the pathos and pain of a terrible
tragedy had been wrought into her life and had seared her heart and soul
as with fire.
Friends and acquaintances crowded around her and it was many minutes
before she found her way to her mother's chair where Captain Ernscliffe
still stood with his heart beating so fast that he thought she must have
heard it. It seemed to him as if everyone in the room must read in his
face the secret of his love for Queenie Lyle who had rejected him a year
ago with all the thoughtless lightness of girlhood. But no, his face was
perfectly calm to all appearance, and as the girl gave one timid, upward
glance at him she thought he had forgotten or outlived the pain of his
rejection.
"I scarcely dared hope that you would return home as you went," he said
after the first formal greeting. "I feared some French count or English
lord would claim you as his own."
She blushed, and her eyes fell until the dark lashes rested on her
burning cheeks.
"I was not so fortunate as to claim the admiration of any of the
nobility," she answered carelessly. "Georgie outshone us all. She is to
be married to an English lord in a month from now."
"I am very glad it is not you who are to be married to him," he answered
laughing, but with an undertone of sincerity.
Other friends claimed her for awhile, but by-and-bye his restless glance
found her out sitting by a window alone for the moment, and looking
tired and a little sad.
"You are not strong enough to stand the heat of the rooms," he said
kindly. "Come out in the garden and walk in the moonlight with me."
She took his arm and they went out in the garden. It was summer, and the
flowers were blooming in profuse sweetness. The air was heavy with the
odor of the roses and honeysuckle. They sat down upon a rustic seat with
the full flood of brilliant moonlight falling on Queenie's uncovered
head and lovely white face.
"You have grown more beautiful than ever, Queenie," said her companion
admiringly.
She did not answer, but he fancied that he heard a faint, quickly
smothered sigh.
Impulsively he took into his own the small hand lying cold and listless
in her lap.
"It has been a year since I saw you, Queenie," he exclaimed, "but I find
the old love rising in my heart as passionately as if we had only parted
yesterday. Dearest, have you ever repented of your cruelty to me?"
She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of a fathomless sadness and
vague regret.
"Ah! yes," she said, and her voice was almost a wail of pain. "I have
repented, Captain Ernscliffe, I have been sorry often and often for my
blind mistake!"
He held out his arms, drawing he scarcely knew what hope from her
agitated words.
"Queenie, come to me," he cried. "Let atonement follow repentance."
But she drew back, trembling and frightened.
"I--oh, I did not mean that," she said, "I cannot--_it is too late!_"
"Queenie, do not be cruel to me again," he pleaded, carried away by the
rush of his wild passion. "If you knew how I have wearied for you since
you went away, how blank my life has been, you could not be so cruel!
You would give yourself to me out of sheer pity and tenderness."
"But I do not love you," she said.
"I will teach you to love me, Queenie. I love you so well that I could
not help winning your love in return if you only gave me the privilege
to try. Say yes, my beautiful darling, and make me the happiest of men!"
She sat still with her head bowed and her hands locked together in her
lap like one thinking intently. At length she said, without lifting her
head to look at him:
"I do not believe I can make you happy, Captain Ernscliffe, but I will
be your wife if you want me."
* * * * *
When the reception was over and the guests all gone, Queenie sought her
father and found him alone in the library.
"Papa," she said, abruptly, laying her hand on his arm. "Captain
Ernscliffe has proposed to me again!"
"You refused him, of course, Queenie," he answered, looking at her with
the grave sadness that always rested on his features now.
Her eyes fell, and a crimson flush crept slowly over her features, but
she answered steadily:
"_Au contraire_, papa, I have accepted him."
"Queenie!"
"Papa!"
"Why have you acted thus? You do not love him?"
"No, papa, but it will be a fine match for me!" she answered, with a
hard little laugh, and a slight ring of sarcasm in her voice.
He looked at her almost angrily.
"Queenie, I have never intended--never contemplated the possibility of a
marriage for you--since--since you came back home. I took you back and
forgave you, kept your secret, and forced your mother and sisters to
receive you and overlook that dreadful blank year whose secret I would
not reveal to them. But I cannot--you must not expect it--allow you to
deceive an honest man."
"Oh, papa! papa!" she fell on her knees and looked up at him
imploringly, "for sweet pity's sake, have mercy on me! Keep my secret
and let me marry Captain Ernscliffe! I need another home--mamma and the
girls are so cold and hard to me--I will be a good wife to him--I will
indeed! He shall never know."
"Ah, Queenie, if your sin should find you out!" he said.
"It will not, it _cannot_," she said, with a shudder; "it is buried _too
deep_. And I have prayed--oh, how I have prayed, papa--and God has
forgiven me!"
"God has forgiven you, but _men_ would not," he said.
"_You_ forgave me, papa."
"Because you had been sinned against, and because I love you so dearly,
and pitied you also. But, Queenie, Captain Ernscliffe would recoil from
you in horror if he knew what I know."
"Papa, he shall _never_ know," she cried, clasping his knees with her
round, white arms, and lifting her wild, streaming eyes to his face. "I
will try to make him happy; and he wants me so very much. You will only
make him unhappy if you come between us."
A gleam of relenting came into his eyes. He had loved her so dearly even
since her innocent babyhood, and now, despite her fault, despite the
hidden tragedy in her young life, the father's heart bled for her, and
sweet pity stood sentinel over her past.
"Queenie, do you think you are doing right?" he said, appealing to her
honor.
Alas! her terrible wrongs and deep despair had steeled her heart against
all appeals.
"Right or wrong," she said, almost defiantly, "I shall marry him, unless
you tell him my secret, papa. And if you do, what good will you
accomplish! You will only break his heart."
"Go, then, unhappy, willful child," he answered, sternly, "go; but if
shame and sorrow come of your folly, remember the fault is on your own
head."
"I accept the responsibility," she answered, with a hard, steely ring in
her voice.
He turned away with a groan and went abruptly out of the room.
"She is changed almost beyond belief," he said to himself. "That
dreadful tragedy has warped her whole nature and made her reckless and
heartless. Unless some softening influence is brought to bear upon her
she will be lost forever!"
* * * * *
Queenie was about to leave the library, when a rustling noise made her
look around, and the next moment Sydney Lyle stepped from behind the
heavy curtains at the window, where she had been an unsuspected listener
to the conversation.
Sydney looked brilliantly beautiful in a ruby-colored satin, trimmed
with Spanish lace. A cluster of rich, scarlet roses were fastened in the
dark braids of her hair, and diamonds blazed on her neck and arms, but
they were scarcely brighter than the fire in her dark eyes as she seized
Queenie by the white shoulder and shook her roughly.
"Queenie Lyle, you little wretch!" she exclaimed, in a low voice of
concentrated rage and passion, "how dare you promise to marry Captain
Ernscliffe?"
Queenie shook herself loose from the cruel grasp that had left ugly red
marks on her smooth, white shoulder, and answered defiantly:
"What business is that of yours, Sydney?"
"You shall not marry him!" Sydney continued, passionately. "You are not
fit to marry any man; but I care not whom you wed so that it be not
Captain Ernscliffe."
"I shall marry no other," answered Queenie, stung into defiance by
Sydney's overbearing look and manner. "I shall marry Captain Ernscliffe
as surely as I live, Sydney, and you cannot prevent it."
"Can I not?" hissed Sydney, furiously. "What if I tell him to ask you
for the secret of that _missing year_ of your life?"
Queenie looked back at her calmly and quietly.
"You will not dare to do it," she said. "If you did I would tell him
that you wanted him for yourself."
"He would not believe you," flashed Sydney.
"You dare not risk it, Sydney," said Queenie, defiantly. "As for me, I
have promised to marry Captain Ernscliffe at the same hour that Georgina
marries Lord Valentine, and I shall surely keep my word."
She swept from the room without pausing to listen to the reply of her
infuriated sister.