GONE TO HER DOOM.
Richard Raleigh had sent a message by a servant to Lillian, requesting
her to come down to the drawing-room for a few moments. He had made up
his mind that she must be his wife at once. There were reasons--grave
and imperative reasons--why the marriage should take place immediately.
Grafton Raleigh, writhing under the burden of conscious guilt which
he carried ever with him, awaited Lillian’s appearance with as much
feverish impatience as Richard himself.
Up and down the great library paced Grafton Raleigh, his hands folded
behind his back, his pale face full of moody light as he paced to and
fro, listening intently for some sound from the drawing-room which
would tell him that Lillian had obeyed the summons.
But there was no light footstep upon the staircase, no low, sweet voice
was heard, no sign of Lillian’s coming. Grafton Raleigh halted at the
door of the library, which stood slightly ajar, and bent his head to
listen. Down the stairs at last came the echo of footsteps, slow and
measured; a moment more and the servant who had been sent to summon
Lillian paused before Richard, who had hastened into the entrance hall
to meet him.
“Well, what was Miss Leigh’s answer,” he demanded, hurriedly; “is she
coming?”
He was too eager and anxious to appear his usual cold, stately self.
The man’s stolid face wore a look of surprise.
“If you please, Mr. Richard,” he returned, obsequiously, “the young
lady is not there!”
“Not there! What do you mean?” cried Richard, harshly.
At sound of his angry voice Grafton Raleigh stepped out into the hall.
The man bowed deprecatingly.
“Miss Leigh is not in her room, sir, I assure you,” he said. “I rapped
at the door several times, but received no answer, and then I asked
Felice to go in and look. She rapped, and still no answer. She then
ventured to open the door, which was not locked, and she reported to me
that Miss Leigh was not in her room. The fire is out, and no trace of
Miss Leigh, so Felice reported; and then I came down at once to you,
Mr. Richard.”
Richard’s face was as pale as death. He dismissed the servant and
followed his father into the library. Once alone in the room, the two
men stood staring at each other with eyes full of blank bewilderment
and horror too deep for words.
“She has gone away to escape me!” panted Richard, angrily. “The girl
must be mad! Or, father, some one may have told her--all!”
Grafton Raleigh shook his head slowly.
“Hardly. Who would tell her--even granted that any one _knows_? And no
one knows but you and I, Rick; for even if Bess Vernon suspects, she
really knows nothing certain. Besides that, she has not seen or had
access to Lillian since she was here this morning. Richard, the girl
has not gone far, and you must find her!”
Richard started.
“You are right!” he said. “And if I find her I will bring her back to
this house my wife!”
Grafton Raleigh nodded.
“Do so by fair means or foul!” he panted, hoarsely. “She must marry
you! There is no loop-hole of escape for us save through your
marriage with Lillian Leigh. To this end I have partially consented
to Rosamond’s foolish affair with Lyndon. Richard, does it strike you
that Jack Lyndon does not care for Rosamond? I am certain that he does
not, and that he has sought her in marriage either because he expects
to marry a fortune with Rosamond Raleigh or he ‘has an ax of his own to
grind.’”
Richard’s face grew dark.
“I know nothing concerning Mr. Lyndon’s affairs,” he said, stiffly,
“and I care less! My business at present is to find Lillian, and bring
her home my wife! She _must_ consent! We must succeed in this scheme,
father, or we shall be utterly ruined. I am going now to search for
her. Living or dead, I shall find her!”
He left the house, pale and anxious, his eyes full of an ominous light,
his lips compressed sternly under the shadow of his silky mustache.
“Living or dead, I will find her!” he muttered, as he hastened down the
long street.
Where was poor Lillian? The anguish and suffering which she had endured
since her reluctant consent to a marriage which Richard Raleigh had
wrung from her unwilling lips could not be overestimated. Utterly
alone, forsaken, friendless, her whole heart clung to the memory of
Jack Lyndon with all the strength of its pure devotion. Yet he, the man
she loved, had been accused by Richard Raleigh of being her father’s
murderer. Could it be possible? The more that Lillian reflected
upon the dreadful question, the more convinced was she that before
binding herself to Richard Raleigh by the ties of marriage it was but
right and proper, and only justice to Jack, to confront him with the
question, “Are you guilty or not guilty?”
The more the poor girl studied this problem, the more clear and plain
did her course appear to her. She walked the floor of her room for
hours, suffering intensely while she reflected upon the matter.
“Why not go to Jack and ask him?” she panted, wildly, at last; “why not
see him alone and accuse him, and mark the effect of my accusation, and
at least give him an opportunity to prove his innocence?”
And so at last she decided. She dressed herself hurriedly, the deep
mourning-garments making her look pitifully pale and fragile, and at
last she left her room and went softly down the servants’ stairs and
out of the house unnoticed. Once in the street, she turned in the
direction of the office of the “Thunderer.” But by the time she had
reached the imposing building her heart failed her, her courage ebbed
away, and she dared not enter. After all, it was an awful thing to
do--to seek a man in his private office and accuse him of the crime of
murder--the man who had only a few days before told her that he loved
her and asked her to be his wife. She thought of that, and then of his
present engagement to Rosamond Raleigh, and the small hands clinched
themselves tightly together, and the white teeth sunk sharply into her
under lip with fierce intensity as she hurried away from the vicinity.
She passed most of the day wandering through the most unfrequented
quarter of the city, not caring to return to the Raleigh mansion and
the man for whom she felt only aversion, yet whose promised wife she
was. At last, after much indecision, when the afternoon was far spent,
she found herself ascending the long flight of stairs which led to the
office of the “Thunderer,” determined to know the worst.
“Come in!” called a well-known voice, in response to the timid tap
upon the great oaken door which shut out the editorial sanctum from
view. The door swung slowly open and Lillian crossed the threshold.
Jack Lyndon sat at a huge desk covered with papers, briskly engaged in
getting ready a leader for the next issue. He turned, and as his eyes
fell upon the pale, pitiful face he threw down his pen and started to
his feet.
“Lillian--Miss Leigh!”--in an agitated voice--“do you--wish--to--to--”
“To speak with you for a few moments upon matters of importance,”
she supplemented. “Yes, Mr. Lyndon.” Then a pause. “Jack! Jack! tell
me that you are not guilty! I had rather die a thousand deaths than
believe you guilty.”
All the pride of Jack Lyndon’s honest nature was up in arms in a
moment. His face flushed crimson and then grew as pale as death. He
put out his hand instinctively and clutched at the desk beside him for
support.
“I deny your right to arraign me, Miss Leigh,” he was beginning,
haughtily. “The crime of which I am guilty--”
The door was thrown open at that very instant, cutting his speech in
twain. He had been about to say: “The crime of which I am guilty is
loving you too well.”
The interruption was disastrous to Jack, for it was Richard Raleigh who
stepped into the room.
“Lillian! Lillian!”--eagerly, anxiously--“I have sought you everywhere!
Mother is very ill, and Rosamond absent. We need you at home. Come.”
He drew her hand passively through his arm, and without another word
led her away. Once outside in the street, Richard turned and faced
Lillian with eager, burning eyes.
“Lillian, listen!” he said. “I have a strange request to make of you.
I want to make you my wife--now--within the hour. There is a church
just around the corner; the clergyman, an old friend of mine, is there
this moment. Let us go there and be married at once. Will you consent,
Lillian?”
She thought of Jack’s words just spoken, and her wan face grew white
with despair.
“As you will,” she answered, faintly.
They passed on and entered the church together.