CHAPTER XXXIV.

For a moment there was a blank silence. Robert Lyle stared silently at

his niece's husband as though he doubted his sanity, and after a pause

Captain Ernscliffe gravely repeated his words:

"Surely I have misunderstood your meaning sir. Queenie certainly went to

Europe that year with her mother and sisters."

"If she did I was certainly not aware of the fact," Mr. Lyle answered

dryly, for he felt just a little nettled at the other's persistent

contradiction.

Captain Ernscliffe looked around at his wife. He started and uttered a

cry of alarm as he did so.

She had fallen back against the deck-rail, grasping it with both hands

as if unable to stand alone; her cheeks and lips had blanched to an

ashen hue, her eyes were wild and frightened.

"Queenie," he said, with an unconscious accent of sternness, "do I speak

the truth or not?"

"Lawrence," she gasped, in a frightened voice, "I thought you knew--did

not Sydney tell you? you said she had told you _all_!"

"I meant she had told me all that had transpired between you two in the

last six weeks," he answered; "she did not refer to the past only to say

that you had been resurrected from the grave by a disappointed suitor

who hated you and kept you for weary months a prisoner. What more is

there to tell, Queenie?" he inquired, in a voice rendered sharp by

suddenly awakened suspicion that as yet took no tangible form.

Through the wild chaos of conflicting feelings that rushed over her she

was conscious of a new feeling of tenderness and respect for poor,

erring Sydney.

"She kept my terrible secret after all," she thought. "I believed she

had told him everything, but in her desire to atone for her cruelty to

me she kept back all that dreadful story, and died in the fond belief

that my happiness was secure. She was nobler than I thought. But, oh!

what an awful position I am placed in. I thought he knew all and had

forgiven me. I meant to tell him everything before I came back to him,

and would have done it but for that dreadful mistake. But now, oh, how

can I?"

"Uncle Rob is right, Lawrence," she said, speaking with the calmness of

despair. "I did not go to Europe with mamma. I meant to go, but at the

very last my heart failed me and I begged to remain at home with papa.

She gave me my will, though very reluctantly, and I staid behind.

Afterward I went out of town on a visit."

"And yet," he said, with a heavy frown, "it was supposed--you allowed

everyone to believe that you had been in Europe. Why was that?"

Great crimson waves of color swept into her cheeks at his half-angry

words.

"Mamma permitted it," she stammered. "She was so angry and ashamed

because I remained behind, and I was, too, after I saw how silly I had

been. So when people spoke of it we simply never contradicted it. But

you may have noticed that I would never speak of that continental

tour--that I always turned the subject when anyone named it."

"Yes, I do remember that," he said. "But you should, at least, have told

me, Queenie. It is very strange that you made a secret of such a

trifle."

"I am very sorry," she answered, sadly; "I intended to tell you about it

before--before I came back to you, but you said when I spoke of it

that--that Sydney had told you _all_. I am very, very sorry."

Her eyes fell and rested on the blue waves of the ocean. Her head felt

dizzy with the motion of the ship and the waves. It seemed to her as if

she could scarcely stand. She seemed to be whirling round and round. Mr.

Lyle came forward and took her hand.

"My dear little Queenie," he said. "I am very sorry that my careless

words have exposed your foolish, girlish little secret. But forgive me,

my pet, and do not look so sad. Captain Ernscliffe, you must not be

angry with my little girl. She was very willful and thoughtless in those

days, but she has told you she was sorry and meant to tell you all about

it."

One gentle, appealing look from her blue eyes did more to melt the heart

of the angry husband than all her uncle's words.

His moody brow unbent; he came back to her side, and, as no one was

looking, bent down and kissed away the pearly tears that trembled on her

delicate cheek.

"There, I forgive you," he said; "but you must have no more secrets from

me, little one."

She shivered slightly, but made no answer, and for this one time the

threatened cloud in the sky of their happiness blew safely over, and all

was peace between them. Yet the heart of the wife lay like lead in her

breast.

Day and night she thought of the terrible secret she was jealously

guarding from the eyes of her husband. But after a calm and lovely

voyage, in which she had been most tenderly cared for by her uncle and

her husband, she found herself once more in the beautiful city where she

had been wooed and wedded.

"Uncle Robert, you will go home with us?" she said, as they were getting

into the carriage on the wharf.

"Not now," he answered. "You know I told you that it was bad news

regarding some of my property here that brought me over to America. I

must go to my lawyer's at once and see what can be done. I will come to

you in a day or two and see how you like housekeeping," he added, with a

laugh.

"We shall certainly expect you," answered Captain Ernscliffe, heartily,

as the carriage drove away to the beautiful mansion he had prepared for

his bride years ago.

A cablegram from England to his housekeeper had instructed her to

prepare the house for the reception of himself and wife.

Now, as they drew up before the grand marble steps, the front door

opened as if by magic, and the cruel woman who had turned Queenie away

homeless and friendless years before, appeared in the hall, richly

clothed in fine black silk, and smirking and smiling upon her master and

his beautiful bride as they came up the steps.

Queenie had told him of that cruel deed, and he looked sternly and

coldly upon the woman as she came up to them.

"Mrs. Purdy," he said, haughtily, "this is my wife. Look well at her,

and tell me if you have ever met her before?"

The housekeeper looked searchingly at the beautiful face, whose blue

eyes flashed lightning scorn upon her. In a moment it all rushed over

her mind.

That face was too lovely to be lightly forgotten. She grew pale, and

commenced to stammer forth incoherent apologies.

"Ah! I see that you remember me," said Mrs. Ernscliffe, curling a

scornful lip.

"Madam, I--pardon me," stammered the crestfallen woman, "you were not

then his wife. I thought you a stranger, a----"

"Silence!" thundered Captain Ernscliffe. "She was my wife then as she

is now. There is no excuse for your infamous conduct. She might have

died but for the kindness of strangers--she, my unfortunate wife, turned

from her own house without shelter for her friendless head. Go, now, and

never let me see you again. Even as you drove her out I will drive you!"

"No--no," exclaimed Queenie, for she saw how utterly the proud,

overbearing woman was abashed. "No--no; I was very angry, but I forgive

her now, for I see how she is humbled at remembrance of her fault. Let

her stay, and this incident may teach her in future to be guided by the

golden rule."

The Bride of the Tomb, and Queenie's Terrible Secret · 第 34 / 43 章