Without doubt it was one of the largest and most fashionable weddings
ever given in New York's social history. Society attended _en masse_,
not so much because it was the fashionable thing to do, as that the
young people were great favourites in their world.
The wedding breakfast was a crowded affair, and both Hélène and her
husband were glad when that function was finished, and the business of
receiving congratulations and saying good-byes was over and done with.
The steamer on which they were going to Europe was to sail in three
hours.
"Let us go early, and escape from our friends," whispered Beverly to
his bride.
"I must have an interview with my father before I go. I must!" said
Helen. Then she added in a voice that sounded strangely harsh, "He has
avoided me ever since the ceremony!"
Beverly Cruger had noticed that Hélène was nervous and emotional, and
he attributed it to the excitement of the moment. But the deep-drawn
lines of her mouth and the stern look in her eye indicated anger and
deep-seated determination, rather than mere excitement.
"What is it, darling?" he asked tenderly. "Can't you trust me?"
"My father has purposely avoided me," she replied. "He knows it is
necessary that I should see him," and Hélène then told her husband of
her recognition of Von Barwig in church. "I have mourned for him as
one dead and gone, and when I saw him to-day rising up like a spectre,
as if reproaching me for my neglect, I was terribly overcome. Oh,
Beverly, I can't explain, I don't understand why, but I think of him
constantly, and my heart goes out to him! Even at this moment I am
haunted by the thought of his dear, sweet, gentle smile. Why did my
father tell me he was dead? There is some mystery connected with Herr
Von Barwig that I am determined to find out! You'll help me, won't
you? I mean, you'll be patient with my--my unaccountable anxiety?"
Beverly nodded.
"Of course I will," he said. "Aren't you my wife?"
"Somehow or other," Hélène went on, almost unconscious of Beverly's
presence, "I feel sure that he is in some way connected with my mother.
I know you'll think I'm foolish, but whenever I look at her portrait I
think of him. Why _should_ I think of him, unless--" Hélène paused.
"I shall never forget that day, the day I dismissed him. He stood at
the door gazing at her portrait, the tears running down his cheeks, and
oh, such a sad, sad, longing expression on his face! Why should the
sight of my mother's portrait make him cry? What is he to her,
Beverly?"
Beverly shook his head. "I wish to God I hadn't sent him away," moaned
Hélène. "What is this man to me that even the memory of his face makes
me suffer! To-day of all days I should be happy, but I'm miserable,
miserable, miserable!"
"If Mr. Stanton knows, he must tell us," declared Beverly emphatically.
"Yes, he shall tell us!" echoed Hélène. "Let's go to him and demand
the truth."
"You stay here, Hélène! I'll bring him to you."
Three minutes later Beverly had found his father-in-law surrounded by
friends, and had taken him by the arm and led him to Hélène's room. It
was the room in which the old music master had given her lessons on the
piano. Hélène now confronted him; and Beverly going up to her stood
beside her as if to protect his wife.
"Why did you tell me he was dead?" demanded Hélène. Stanton was silent.
"You must tell her, sir," said Beverly. "It is necessary for her peace
of mind!"
"It is necessary for her peace of mind that I remain silent," said
Stanton.
"But she is suffering!" cried Beverly.
"She'll suffer more if I tell her the truth," and Stanton turned to go.
"One moment, sir," and Beverly laid his hand gently on Mr. Stanton's
arm; "you must answer, this uncertainty and suspense must come to an
end."
"What is he to me? Tell me!" entreated Hélène. "Father, father,
won't you tell me? for God's sake tell me!" and Hélène clasped him by
the arm.
"Tell her, sir," said Beverly in a commanding voice.
"I--I cannot," faltered Stanton; "it's impossible!"
"Then I'll find out from him," cried Hélène. Stanton realised that he
was cornered.
"Find out what you please, from whom you please," he said harshly.
"We'll go to him; he'll tell us. We should have done that at first,"
and Hélène turned to Beverly.
"I warn you, you'll bring untold misery on your head!" shouted Stanton.
He was infuriated at the idea of his authority being ignored.
"We want the truth, the truth!" cried Hélène.
Stanton was now beside himself with rage. "Then have it; have it!"
The words came in short gasps. "And pay the price for it! The man is
your father! Now you know the truth; you can get the details from
him!" and Stanton went out slamming the door behind him, the same door
through which Von Barwig had gone out in despair the day that Hélène
dismissed him.
"Herr Von Barwig my father! My father!" Hélène sank on her knees and
clasped her hands. She was trembling with joy. "Thank God! Thank
God! Thank God!"
* * * * * *
As Von Barwig partially awoke from his sleep he became dimly conscious
that he was not alone. Without opening his eyes he realised where he
was, and that he was still sitting by the stove, for he felt the glare
of the fire on his face, and his immediate surroundings were familiar.
The snow on the glass roof above, the portmanteau outside his bedroom
door, packed and ready to go; the broken balustrade at the back of the
hallway, the sink in the corner, the shelf with the lamps on it; all
these familiar objects seemed to be present without his looking
directly at them. But there was something else, for a dim figure
hovered over him like an angel beckoning him to a fairer, happier land;
and the perfume of flowers seemed to fill the room.
"I sleep," said Von Barwig to himself, "but I shall soon wake, and
then--it will go." Soon the figure began to take form and to his
half-conscious mind it seemed to assume the shape of his dead wife. It
was her face, her figure as he had known her many, many years ago.
"Elene, Elene!" he murmured, "you have come to take me away from this
place. Oh, God, I hope I never wake up!"
The figure now stretched out its arms, and seemed to be handing Von
Barwig a bunch of flowers. The old man's eyes were fully opened now,
and, as he gazed up, he recognised the face of his beloved pupil. Then
he knew that he was not sleeping. The dreaming and waking process had
probably occupied but a few seconds of time, but it seemed to Von
Barwig to have lasted many hours. Hélène was looking down at him now
as he sat there, her great blue eyes suffused with tears. She beamed
tenderness and love upon him and her outstretched hand held a bunch of
orange blossoms.
"You didn't seek me out to-day, so I came to you," she said in a low,
tender voice. "I have brought you my orange blossoms!"
Von Barwig did not speak. Another figure now outlined itself to his
vision and became flesh and blood--the figure of Beverly Cruger.
It seemed to Von Barwig that young Mr. Cruger looked pale and anxious.
"What does he know?" the old man asked himself. "Is he here to find
out?" and in that moment he determined to keep his secret.
Hélène waited for Von Barwig to speak, but he remained silent.
"You must think it strange that I should call upon you to-day of all
days," she said, shaking her head sadly, "and that I should bring
my--my husband with me." She looked around at Beverly and he smiled
approvingly. "But I am going away, Herr Von Barwig, and it would be
very sad if we never met again; wouldn't it?"
Von Barwig still looked at her sadly, smilingly, but did not speak.
"I feel," she went on sadly, "I always have felt that you never meant
to see me again." Von Barwig nodded; he dared not trust himself to
speak now.
"What does she know? What does she know?" he asked himself. "Shall
her mother's disgrace fall on her young shoulders as a wedding gift
from me? No, no, no!"
Again the girl spoke: "I am beginning life all over again; from
to-day," she said.
"Ah, that is right!" murmured Von Barwig.
"We were going to spend our honeymoon in Paris," said Hélène in a
curiously strained voice, for it was all she could do to keep back her
tears; "but now we have changed our plans! We are going to the little
town where I was born."