THE TALL YOUNG LADY IN BROWN.
Not enjoyment and not sorrow
Is our destined end or way;
But to act that each to-morrow
Finds us further than to-day
In the world's broad field of battle
In the bivouac of life
Be not like dumb driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife.
LONGFELLOW.
As Fern finished her little speech, Crystal hid her face in her hands,
but there was no answer--only the sound of a deep-drawn sob was
distinctly audible. A few minutes afterward she raised it, and in the
moonlight Fern could see it was streaming with tears.
"Do not say any more," she implored; "do you think my own heart does
not tell me all that, but I will not go back yet; the flaming sword of
conscience still bars my way to my Paradise. Fern, do you know why I
have told you my story? It is because I am going away, and I want you
to promise me something, and there is no one else I can ask; no, not
your mother," as Fern looked surprised at this, "she has enough to
trouble her."
"What is it?" asked Fern, rather timidly.
"I am going away," returned Crystal, "and one never knows what may
happen. I am young, but life is uncertain. If I never come back, if
anything befalls me, will you with your own hands give this to Raby,"
and as she spoke, she drew from her bosom a thick white envelope
sealed and directed, and placed it in Fern's lap. As it lay there Fern
could read the inscription: "To be given to the Rev. Raby Ferrers,
after my death."
"Oh, Crystal," she exclaimed, with a shiver, "what could happen to
you. You are young--not one-and-twenty yet--and your health is good,
and--" but Crystal interrupted her with a strange smile.
"Yes, it is true; but the young and the strong have to die sometimes;
when the call comes we must go. Do not look so frightened, Fern, I
will not die if I can help it; but if it should be so, will you with
your own hands give that to Raby; it will tell him what I have
suffered, and--and it will comfort him a little."
"Yes, dear, I will do it;" and Fern leaned forward and kissed her
softly. The moon was shining brightly now, and in the clear white
light Fern noticed for the first time how thin and pale Crystal
looked; how her cheek, and even her slight supple figure, had lost
their roundness. There were deep hollows in the temples, dark lines
under the dark eyes, in spite of her beauty she was fearfully wan. The
grief that preyed upon her would soon ravage her good looks. For the
first time Fern felt a vague fear oppressing her, but she had no
opportunity to say more, for at that moment Crystal rose quickly from
her seat.
"You have promised," she said, gratefully; "thank you for that. It is
a great trust, Fern, but I know I can rely on you. Now I can talk no
more. If your mother comes in, will you tell her about Miss Campion. I
think she will be glad for many reasons. Now I will try and sleep, for
there is much to be done to-morrow. Good night, my dear;" and the next
moment Fern found herself alone in the moonlight.
When Mrs. Trafford returned, she heard the news very quietly.
"It will be better--much better," she said, quickly. "You must not
fret about it, my sunbeam. Crystal is beginning to look ill; change
and movement will do her good. Our life is very quiet. She has too
much time to feed upon herself. She will be obliged to rouse herself
among strangers." And when Fern told her tearfully of the promise she
had made, Mrs. Trafford only listened with a grave smile.
"Put it away safely, my dear; you will never have to give it, I hope;
only it is a relief to the poor child to know you have it. Hers is a
strange morbid nature. She is not yet humbled sufficiently. When she
is, she will go back, like the Prodigal, and take the forgiveness that
is waiting for her. Now, my darling, all this sad talk has made you
look pale. You must try and forget it, and go to sleep." But, for the
first time in her healthy girlhood, sleep refused to come at Fern's
bidding; and she lay restless and anxious, thinking of her friend's
tragical story until the gray dawn ushered in the new day.
The little household in Beulah Place were very busy during the next
few days. The girls went out shopping together to replenish Crystal's
modest wardrobe, and then sat working until nearly midnight to
complete the new traveling dress. Fern was putting the final stitches
on the last afternoon while Crystal went to bid good-bye to her
pupils. The black trunk in the girl's room was already packed, for she
was to start early in the morning.
Percy had not yet heard the news; he had been away from town the last
week, to Crystal's great relief. She had begged Mrs. Trafford and Fern
to say nothing about her movements. He might appear at any moment, and
Crystal dreaded a scene if he heard of her approaching departure.
"It will be much better for him not to know until the sea is between
us," she had said to Mrs. Trafford. "When he hears I have gone without
bidding him good-bye, he will see then that I mean what I say--that my
life has nothing to do with his;" and Mrs. Trafford had agreed to
this.
It was with a feeling of annoyance and very real discomfort, then,
that Crystal caught sight of him as she came down the steps of Upton
House. He was walking quickly down the street, and evidently perceived
her at once. There would be no chance of escaping him, so she walked
slowly on, quite aware that he would overtake her in another minute.
As they were to part so soon, she must put up with his escort. Of
course he had been to Beulah Place, and was now in search of her; poor
foolish boy!
The next moment she heard his footstep behind her.
"Miss Davenport, this is too delightful," and his handsome face wore a
look of pleased eagerness. "I thought I should have to wait some time,
from Fern's account, but I have not been here a moment. There is no
hurry, is there?" checking her pace as Crystal seemed inclined to walk
fast.
"We are busy people, Mr. Trafford," she answered, pleasantly, "and can
never afford to walk slowly. Why did you not wait with your sister?
You have not seen her for a long time."
"Has it seemed a long time to you?" he returned, with quick emphasis.
"I wish I could believe that you had missed me, that you had even
given me a thought during my absence;" and he looked wistfully at the
girl as he spoke.
"I am sure your mother and Fern missed you," she replied, evasively.
She wanted to keep him in good humor, and avoid any dangerous topics.
She would like to leave him, if possible, with some kindly memory of
this interview. In spite of his sins against her, she could not
altogether harden her heart against Fern's brother.
Any stranger meeting these two young people would have regarded them
as a perfectly matched couple. Percy's refined aristocratic face and
distinguished carriage made a splendid foil for Crystal's dark beauty
and girlish grace. As Percy's eyes rested on her they scarcely noticed
the shabby dress she wore. He was thinking as usual that he had never
seen any one to compare with this young governess; and he wondered, as
he had wondered a hundred times before, if her mother had been an
Englishwoman; his mother would never tell him anything about Miss
Davenport, except that she was of good birth and an orphan.
"Did you bring Mr. Huntingdon with you?" she asked, rather hurriedly,
for she was quite aware of the fixed look that always annoyed her. The
admiration of men was odious to her now the only eyes she had cared to
please would never look at her again.
"Do you mean Erle?" was the careless answer. "Oh, no, my dearly
beloved cousin has other game to bring down;" and here there was a
slightly mocking tone in Percy's voice. "He is with _la belle_ Evelyn
as usual. I am afraid Erle does not quite hit it as an ardent lover;
he is rather half-hearted. He asked me to go down to Victoria Station
to meet his visitor, but I declined, with thanks. I had other business
on hand, and I do not care to be ordered about; so the carriage must
go alone."
"You are expecting visitors at Belgrave House then?" she asked; but
there was no interest in her manner. She only wanted to keep
conversation to general subjects. She would talk of Belgrave House or
of anything he liked if he would only not make love to her. If he only
knew how she hated it, and from him of all men.
"Oh, it is not my visitor," was the reply; "it is only some old fogy
or other that Erle has picked up at Sandycliffe--Erle has a craze
about picking up odd people. Fancy inflicting a blind parson on us, by
way of a change."
He was not looking at the girl as he spoke, or he must have seen the
startled look on her face. The next moment she had turned her long
neck aside.
"Do you mean he is actually blind, and a clergyman? how very strange!"
"Yes; the result of some accident or other. His name is Ferrers. Erle
raved about him to my grandfather; but then Erle always raves about
people--he is terribly softhearted. He is coming up to London, on some
quest or other, no one knows what it is, Erle is so very mysterious
about the whole thing."
"Oh, indeed," rather faintly; "and you--you are to meet him, Mr.
Trafford?"
"On the contrary, I am going to do nothing of the kind," he returned,
imperturbably. "I told Erle that at 6:30, the time the train was due,
I was booked for a pressing engagement. I did not mention the
engagement was with my mother, and that I should probably be partaking
of a cup of tea; but the fact is true nevertheless."
Crystal did not answer; perhaps she could not. He was coming up to
London, actually to Belgrave House, and on this very evening. Erle
must have got scent of her secret--how or in what manner she could not
guess; but all the same, it must be Erle who had betrayed her. She had
thought him a little odd and constrained the last few times she had
seen him; she had noticed more than once that his eyes had been fixed
thoughtfully on her face as though he had been watching her, and he
had seemed somewhat confused when he had found himself detected. What
did it all mean; but never mind that now. Raby would be coming to
Beulah Place, but she would be hundreds of miles away before that; she
was safe, quite safe; but if only she could see him before she went.
If she could only get rid of this tiresome Percy, who would stay,
perhaps, for hours. Could she give him the slip? She could never
remain in his company through a long evening; it would drive her
frantic to listen to him, and to know all the time that Raby was near,
and she could not see him. And then all at once a wild idea came to
her, and her pale cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew bright, and she
began to talk rather quickly and in an excited manner.
"Oh! do you know, Mr. Trafford," she said, gravely, "I think it is
very wrong of you to encourage Mr. Erle to come so often to Beulah
Place. Fern is pretty--very pretty, and Mr. Erle is fond of saying
pleasant things to her, and all the time he knows Mr. Huntingdon
wishes him to marry Miss Selby. He has no right to make himself so
agreeable to your sister; and I think you ought to keep him in better
order."
"Oh! I don't pretend to be Erle's mentor," he returned, a little
sulkily; for he thought he saw her drift to keep him from talking of
his own feelings. "I never interfere with other fellows."
"Yes, but Fern is your sister," in a reproachful voice; "and I do
think you are to blame in this. Why do you not tell him that he must
leave your sister alone, and keep to Miss Selby. Your grandfather
would be very angry if he knew of these visits to Beulah Place, and
then Mr. Erle would get into trouble."
"I can't help that," was the indifferent answer. "Erle must take his
chance with the rest of us; he knows as well as I do the risk he
runs." And in spite of her pre-occupation, Crystal noticed a curious
change in Percy's tone.
"Do you mean that he would get into serious trouble? is that what you
would imply? I do not think you are doing your duty, Mr. Trafford, if
you do not warn him of Mr. Huntingdon's displeasure. Mr. Erle is weak,
he is easily gulled, but he has good principles; you could soon induce
him to break off his visits."
"I don't see that I need trouble myself about another fellow's love
affair; I have too much on my own mind. Of course you look impatient,
Miss Davenport, it is a crime to speak of my own feelings; but how can
you expect me to take interest in another fellow when I am so utterly
miserable myself."
"Mr. Trafford," she said, trying to control her impatience, "I wish
you would let me speak to you for once, as though I were your friend,"
she would have substituted the word sister, but she feared to provoke
one of his outbursts of indignant pleading.
"You know you may say what you like to me," he returned, moved by the
gentleness of her speech, for she had never been so gracious to him
before. "You have more influence over me than any one else in the
world. If you could make me a better man, Miss Davenport."
"I would give much to do it," she answered, in a low voice that
thrilled him strangely. "Mr. Trafford, will you be angry with me if I
speak to you very frankly, and earnestly--as earnestly," here she
paused, "as though we were bidding each other good-bye, to-night, for
a long time."
"If you will call me Percy," he replied, with sudden vehemence, "you
shall say what you like to me."
"Very well," she answered, with a faint smile at his boyish
insistance, "it shall be Percy then--no, do not interrupt me," as he
seemed about to speak. "I am very troubled and unhappy about Mr.
Erle's visits; they are doing harm to Fern, and I must tell you, once
for all, that you are not doing your duty either to your sister or
cousin."
"Erle again," he muttered, moodily.
"Yes, because the matter lies very close to my heart, for I dearly
love your sister. Mr. Trafford--Percy, I mean--you have youth, health,
talents--the whole world lies before you; why do you envy your cousin,
because he is likely to be a richer man than you?"
"He has robbed me of my rightful inheritance," was the moody answer.
"It could never be yours," she returned, quickly; "a Trafford will
never be Mr. Huntingdon's heir."
"I would change my name."
"That would avail you little," with a touch of her old scorn, for the
speech displeased her. "Mr. Huntingdon would never leave his money to
the son of the man whom he hated, and of the daughter whose
disobedience embittered his life. Mr. Erle has to answer for no sins
but his own."
"He had better be careful though," was the quick response.
"What, have you done him mischief already? Why--why are you not more
generous to the poor boy? Why do you encourage these visits that you
know will anger Mr. Huntingdon? Why do you tempt him from his duty?
Percy, I implore you to be true to yourself and him. Look into your
own heart and see if you are acting an honorable part."
"You are always hard on me," he returned, sullenly. "Who has been
blackening my name to you?"
"No one, no one," she answered, quickly; "but you are a reckless
talker, and I have gathered much from my own observation. You have
told me more than once that you are in debt; sometimes I fear you
gamble. Oh!" as a dark flush mounted to his forehead, "I should be
grieved to think that this is true."
"You would hate me all the more, I suppose," in a defiant voice.
"Indeed I do not hate you, my poor boy; but you make me very angry
sometimes. Do you know me so little as to think I could ever bring
myself to love a gambler, or one who tried to rob another of his
inheritance--one who was so afraid of poverty that he deserted his
mother for the loaves and fishes of the man who was her worst enemy?"
"The old story," in a despairing voice; "will you never give me even
the benefit of an excuse--will you never allow me to defend myself?"
"I am not your judge," was the cold reply; and then, as she saw the
misery of his face, she relented. "Indeed, it is not too late to
retrieve the past. If you have debts, if you are in trouble, own it
frankly to your grandfather."
"And be turned out of the house a beggar?"
"What of that," she replied, cheerfully; "you have a profession; every
one says how clever you are--what a splendid barrister you will make.
You can take pupils; success and money will come to you in time."
"Too late," he muttered; "I can not free myself." Then, with a sudden
change of look and tone, "Crystal, if I do this--if I leave Belgrave
House, will you give me a hope of winning you in the future?"
She shook her head; "I can not give you that hope."
"Why not?" he demanded, fiercely.
"Because I belong to another," she answered, slowly, and there came a
wonderful light in her eyes; "and for his sake I will live as I am to
my life's end."
They had reached Beulah Place by this time, and Mrs. Watkins's shop
was in sight. There were few passers-by, so no one noticed why Percy
suddenly stood still and seized his companion's hands.
"You love another man? You dare to tell me this?"
"I tell you this for your own good, and that you may never speak to me
again as you have done. You must not be angry with me for telling you
the truth; and now will you ring the bell, for there is no need to go
through the shop?"
"I am not coming in," he said, hoarsely. "I can not trust myself."
"Then we will say good-bye here," was the quiet answer, and she
pressed his hands kindly. "Forgive me if I have made you unhappy, but
indeed it is your fault, and I thought it better to tell you the
truth. Good-bye, my poor boy;" but though her voice was full of
gentleness and pity, he scarcely heard it. He had wrung her hands,
almost throwing them from him, and had turned away without a word.
Crystal looked after him rather wistfully; her heart felt strangely
soft to him to-night. "Was it wrong to tell him, I wonder?" she said
to herself, as she quickly retraced her steps. "He is terribly
reckless, one never knows how he may take things. It was good of him
to listen to me so patiently; and now he has gone away sore and
angry."
Crystal was walking very fast now, as though she had suddenly
remembered some errand. As an empty hansom passed her she hailed it.
"Will you drive me to Victoria Station," she said to the man in a
business-like tone; "I want to meet the 6:30 train from Singleton. I
think there is time."
"None too much," was the somewhat gruff answer, "but my horse is
fresh;" and Crystal drew into a corner and tried to curb her
impatience by watching the passers-by; but her fear of being too late
kept her restless and miserable.
As they drove into Victoria Station a handsome barouche, with a pair
of fine bays, attracted Crystal's attention. The footman had got down
and was making inquiries of a porter. "Singleton train just due,"
Crystal heard the man say, as she handed the cabman his fare; and as
she quickly passed through the station, the train slowly drew up at
the platform.
Only just in time! Crystal pressed eagerly forward, scanning the
occupants of all the carriages until she came to the last.
There were two passengers in this compartment; a young lady, with a
good-natured freckled face, was speaking to a very tall man who was
standing in the center of the carriage. "You must let me help you
out," Crystal heard her say in a pleasant countrified voice, "and wait
with you until your friends find you;" and then came the answer in the
deep tones Crystal knew so well.
"Thank you, you are very kind. My unfortunate infirmity gains new
friends for me everywhere; so after all, you see, even blindness has
its alleviations, Miss Merriman."
"Oh, I will be sure to tell papa what you say; it will be such a
comfort to him. Now, will you put your hand on my shoulder--it is a
deep step--take care;" but as Raby tried to follow this instruction, a
little gloved hand, that certainly did not belong to Miss Merriman,
gently guided him and placed him in safety.
Miss Merriman nodded and smiled her thanks.
"There, you are all right now. What is the matter Mr. Ferrers?"
"I thought some one touched me," he returned, with a puzzled look,
"and you were on my other side, so I suppose it was some kind
stranger."
"Yes, a young lady," as Crystal moved away rather suddenly. "Ah! there
is a footman; he seems in search of some one. I will ask him if he be
looking for you," and Miss Merriman darted away.
Raby stood quietly waiting, but he little knew that the girl whom he
had come to London to seek was standing a few yards from him, trying
to see him through the tears that blinded her.
Many people turned to look after the tall, striking-looking man in
clerical dress. The felt hat just shaded the pale, massively cut
features. He looked older, Crystal thought, and a little sadder, but
the mouth was as beautiful as ever.
Once he looked up as hasty footsteps brushed him, as though he would
move aside, but a girlish figure interposed between him and the loaded
truck, and again the little hand guided him to safety.
"It is all right--the man says he is waiting for Mr. Ferrers,"
observed Miss Merriman briskly at this moment. "What horrid things
those trucks are; I was afraid one would have knocked you, only the
young lady led you away."
"What! a young lady?" asked Raby, quickly.
"Oh, only a tall young lady in brown, who seemed to notice you wanted
help. She has gone now--probably a passenger for the down-train."
"I think all young ladies are good to me," returned Raby, with grave
courtesy, holding out his hand. "I know I have met with a very kind
fellow-passenger;" and then, as he took the footman's arm and entered
the carriage, Miss Merriman saw the tall young lady in brown walk
quickly out of the station, and as she passed her there were tears
running down her cheeks.