ACCEPTED.
Lillian had gone to the rendezvous at the last gate with perfect
confidence, and with no thought of Richard Raleigh in her mind. The
night was very beautiful. The moonlight silvered all things, and by
its pale, clear radiance she made her way to the trysting-place. Her
heart was filled with quiet happiness. Jack loved her. To Lillian Leigh
the beginning and the end of all things was comprised in those words.
Jack loved her, and wanted her to be his wife. Of his poverty she never
thought. He earned a reasonable salary, and it requires but little to
keep two who are contented and satisfied with their lot in life--happy
in being together.
Lillian had never been rich. She had never known the pleasure of having
all the money that she wanted, a handsome home, rich dresses and costly
jewels, servants to command, and a carriage in which to ride. What
one has never possessed one can hardly miss; and she could see only
happiness and prosperity in the future for herself and Jack. Ah! there
never was any one like Jack! So handsome, so brilliant, so manly and
good! Her heart was thrilling with love and devotion toward Jack Lyndon
as she hastened to meet this stranger who had written and asked her to
come. A clew to her father’s murderer! The very thought made her heart
beat fierce and fast within her breast.
“He shall be brought to justice, no matter who he may be!” she
muttered, as she hurried onward.
The gate was reached at last, and Lillian came to a halt. There was
no one there. A rustic seat stood near under a huge beech-tree. She
seated herself and drew her white cloak closer about her shoulders.
“I wonder who it is and why he does not come?” she said to herself,
impatiently, and just a little frightened to be out alone at that hour
so far from the house.
Crash! through the underbrush came the sound of heavy footsteps. Pale
and frightened, Lillian started to her feet. The branches of the
beech-tree grew thickly around her, although denuded now of leaves. A
hand pushed the branches aside, and a tall, dark form loomed up before
her in the moonlight.
“Lillian!” exclaimed a voice.
One glance, and she fell back pale and trembling with horror too deep
for words.
“Mr. Raleigh!” she panted; “I did not expect to see _you_.”
He laughed--an unpleasant, sneering laugh.
“No, I suppose not. That was a surprise which I held in reserve for
you--a pleasant surprise, I trust, my dear. Lillian, listen to me. Do
not turn coldly away; I have something to say to you, and, so help me
Heaven, I mean every word that I utter! Lillian, I love you! Stop! I
mean no insult. I love you purely, honorably, with all my heart, and
I ask you to be my wife. Do not look so scornful; pause and reflect
before you decline an alliance with a Raleigh.”
She stood before him pale as marble, her large dark eyes lifted to his
face in wordless scorn.
“Mr. Raleigh, let me pass!” she commanded, coldly. But he caught her
hands in his own.
“Stay, Lillian. No, I do not intend to be violent or rude with you.
I ask you to listen quietly to me, as quietly as you would listen
to Lyndon--curse him!--if he were to make love to you as he does to
every woman who is foolish enough to listen to him. Ah, I guessed your
secret, my sweet Lillian; but when you have heard all that I have come
to say, I imagine that you will change your mind. Lillian, I wrote and
asked you to meet me here to-night that I might reveal the name of your
father’s murderer. It is more than a mere clew that I possess, Lillian
Leigh--I know the man who took your father’s life.”
She was trembling like an aspen, her white hands clasped, her dark eyes
shining like stars.
“His name!” she panted, hoarsely; “tell me his name, Mr. Raleigh!”
Richard Raleigh bent his head, and his dusky eyes studied her face with
a fierce, eager intensity.
“If I tell you what reward will you give me, Lillian?” he queried,
earnestly; “will you promise to be my wife?”
She threw back her head with a haughty gesture, and faced him with
fearless contempt.
“No! a thousand times, no!” she panted, angrily. “I can conceive of no
conditions, no circumstances, under which I would consent to marry you,
Richard Raleigh! You are a bad man, a base, wicked man, and I despise
and condemn you. And I have no right to listen to words of love from
you, for I am already betrothed!”
He started, his face flushing and paling alternately.
“Is it possible?” he cried. “Since when, may I ask? I have a good
reason for my question.”
“I promised to-day to be Mr. Lyndon’s wife!” she answered, proudly.
An awful look flashed over Raleigh’s face. He grew pale, and his eyes
held a strange, lurid, brassy light.
“Jack Lyndon! Curse him! He is always in my way!” he snarled. “He is
a gay Lothario, making love to every woman, every pretty face that he
meets. To my certain knowledge he has talked all sorts of soft nonsense
to Rosamond. He has other strings to his bow, and now you too. Oh,
Lillian,” in a tone of sad reproach and regret, “I would rather see
you dead than deceived and misled by Jack Lyndon. He is a notorious
lady-killer, and a man of no honor--”
“Stop! Not another word, Mr. Raleigh. I will not listen. Jack Lyndon is
good and true--upright and honorable. Such a nature as his is beyond
your comprehension.”
Richard Raleigh laughed.
“Beyond my comprehension? I grant that,” he returned, sardonically.
“But if you believe for a moment that Jack Lyndon is true to you, if
you believe for a second that when he is absent from you he does not
make love to other women--what, irresistible Jack! Beauty, as he is
called!--I will soon undeceive you. I have it in my power to do so.
Look!”
He took from the seat where he had placed it a field-glass of
remarkably strong magnifying power. By its aid any object could
be distinguished a half a mile away. Richard Raleigh arranged the
glass which he turned upon the drawing-room windows of the house. He
brought it within easy range by stepping into a side-path, clear from
obstructing trees and shrubbery.
A moment’s silence fell, then a voice full of triumph:
“Lillian, come, quick!”
She scarcely realized what she was doing. Under ordinary circumstances
Lillian Leigh would have shrunk from such an action; but almost before
she was aware of it, she found herself peering through the glass
straight in at Miss Raleigh’s drawing-room window. This is what she saw:
Rosamond Raleigh seated in a low velvet chair, and Jack Lyndon leaning
over her, gazing into her face with eager eyes, while one hand held
hers. Lillian turned away with a shudder.
Raleigh laughed sardonically.
“Are you satisfied that Jack Lyndon is at least a flirt?” he asked,
softly.
She made no reply. What could she say? If Jack Lyndon were false and
treacherous, in whom could she believe? Sick and faint, she turned
away, and seating herself upon the rustic seat, she covered her face
with her hands. How long a time passed in silence she knew not. The
silence was broken at last by Raleigh’s voice.
“Lillian, would you know the truth--the bad, black, dreadful truth?
Listen to me, then, and believe that I speak truly, Lillian Leigh.”
He stooped and spoke a few words in a low tone.
With a moan of anguish she fell at his feet, and lay there for a time
quite oblivious to all that had come upon her. Not unconscious, not in
an ordinary swoon. There are blows which fall crushing upon the human
heart with such force, such awful paralyzing force, that they benumb
the brain and bring a dull torpor upon the senses, crushing the mind
and the reason for the time being, because they are not strong enough
to believe and accept the full force of the awful shock. In some such a
trance poor Lillian lay for a time. At last Raleigh stooped and lifted
the slight black-robed form in his arms, adjusting the white cloak
about her with a tender touch. It was certain that with all his vices
there was a soft, tender spot in his heart for Lillian. But his face
was set and stern, and low under his breath he murmured, faintly:
“I have half a mind to give up the whole business and run away. But,
no; there is too much involved. Father has revealed too much; I have
promised, and I can not go back now that I have started on the road to
success. I have put my hand to the plow and must not turn back. I must
go on to the bitter end, no matter what the consequences may be.”
And as he lifted Lillian in his arms to place her upon the rustic seat,
just at that juncture Rosamond had appeared with Jack Lyndon. But
neither Lillian nor Richard Raleigh dreamed of such a thing.
One swift glance of horror, just long enough to know and realize that
his eyes had not deceived him, or the moonlight played any trick with
his eyesight, and Jack Lyndon wheeled swiftly about and retraced his
steps to the house, followed at a little distance by Rosamond, her
heart full of gratified triumph. She had succeeded beyond her wildest
hopes.
The goal was very nearly won. If only she were patient and played her
cards properly all would yet be well.
Back in the drawing-room once more, Jack seated himself without a word.
He felt in a mood for anything now--reckless and desperate--fit for any
mad deed. Lillian was false. If that were so--and how could he doubt
the evidence of his own eyesight?--then there was not a woman in the
world worth caring for, worth trusting in. As he sat in moody silence a
soft hand was laid upon his forehead, smoothing the hair from his brow,
and a low, magnetic voice murmured, sweetly:
“Jack, don’t look so down-hearted. What in the world is the matter?
There,” with a low, rippling laugh, “I hear Lillian coming into the
house--the little deceiver. Shall I call her in here and question her?”
He shivered all over as with a chill.
“Forbear!” he cried, lightly. “To intrude upon her happiness would be
unkind. Come, Rosamond,” calling her by that name for the first time in
his life, “let us sit here and have a pleasant chat and shut out all
the world--all false women and men, all deceit and wrong-doing. Let us
be a veritable Darby and Joan, for one night only, as the play-bills
say.”
He was in just the mood to fall into her snare, and Rosamond Raleigh
knew it.
Poor though he was, she had learned to love the brilliant young
journalist with a mad, unceasing love of which no one believed her
capable. And she had made up her mind to marry him.
“I have money enough for both,” she had decided.
To-night he was so reckless and defiant, so desperate and bitter, that
Rosamond’s gentle sympathy, her ignoring of the possibility of Lillian
having any claim upon his affections, all had its own deadly effect.
And sitting at Rosamond’s side in the dimly lighted drawing-room,
fully convinced of Lillian’s falseness and unworthiness, and therefore
considering himself free from her, Jack Lyndon made the mad mistake of
his life. He asked Rosamond Raleigh to be his wife, and Miss Raleigh
promptly accepted him.