He had expected that Beatrix would be startled and distressed, but he
was not prepared for the burst of emotion with which she received his
news.
"Home! home!" she burst out, in a voice that was like a wail of
despair, then suddenly flinging her arms about his neck, she broke into
tempestuous sobbing as if the very depths of her heart were stirred by
throes of keenest anguish.
He was touched and startled by this display of affectionate grief for
his mother. Never had he clasped her so fondly, never kissed her so
tenderly as now when he believed that her heart ached and her tears
flowed for the sake of the mother whom he loved.
"Beatrix, my own sweet love, do not grieve so wildly," he said,
caressingly. "She is ill, but it may not be fatal. I broke the news to
you too suddenly. I did not realize until this moment what a tender
loving heart you have. Cheer up, darling. It may not be as bad as we
fear. We will pray for her recovery."
She threw back her head and looked in his face with wild dark eyes all
swimming in tears.
"Oh, St. Leon, what did the cablegram say?" she aspirated, eagerly.
"That she is very ill, dear, but that did not necessarily imply a fatal
sickness," he answered, soothingly.
She caught at the words with the eagerness of desperation.
"Oh, St. Leon, why need we go home at all then?"
"Beatrix!"
He did not know himself how coldly he put her from him, how sharp
and rebuking his tone sounded. He was hurt and amazed. It seemed to
him that he could not have understood her aright. He looked at the
beautiful form drooping before him humbly, and he saw that he had
frightened her by his sudden harshness. Her lips were trembling with
fear.
"Beatrix," he said, "perhaps I have not understood you aright. Did you
really express a desire not to go home?"
She looked at the dark, handsome face with the touch of sternness upon
it and her heart sunk within her.
"I thought--I thought"--she faltered, "that--if Mrs. Le Roy were not
so very ill, we need not--perhaps--go home just yet. Oh, forgive me,
St. Leon. I did not mean to be selfish. I love the Old World so well I
cannot bear the thought of going back to America!"
For the first time since their happy wedding-day he looked coldly and
sternly at his fair young bride. She had almost forgotten how those
proud lips could curl, how that mobile face could express the lightning
passions of his soul. She saw now what a dreadful mistake she had made.
"Oh, Beatrix, how I have deceived myself!" he cried. "Do you know what
I thought just now when you burst into tears? I believed that all your
grief was for my mother, because you loved her and were sorry for her.
I never loved you so well as when I thought that you shared so wholly
in my affection for my parent. And yet in the next breath you show me
my mistake. Your pleasure, your comfort, ranks higher in your thoughts
than my mother's welfare! Oh! child! are you, indeed, so selfish?"
The sadness and reproach in his voice tore her guilty heart like a
knife. She flew to his arms--she would not be held at a distance.
"I am a wretch!" she cried, remorsefully. "Forgive me, St. Leon. I
_do_ love Mrs. Le Roy. I _do_ grieve over her illness! It was only my
abominable selfishness and thoughtlessness that made me so heartless.
I have grown selfish, forgetting every one else and finding all my
happiness in you. Forget it, if you can--at least, forgive it. I am
ready to go home with you immediately. Nay, I am most anxious to go."
But her voice faltered, and she shed such hot tears upon his breast
that they seemed to blister her cheeks. It seemed to her that she was
declaring her own death-warrant.
He could do no less than forgive her. Indeed, her sorrow and repentance
were so great that he felt that he had been too harsh and stern
with her. He remembered that she was only a child, and she had been
so pleased with her travels, it was no wonder that she had been
disappointed when the end came upon her so suddenly.
"Besides, I could not in reason expect her to be as fond of my mother
as I am," he said to himself, apologetically, and to ease the smart of
his disappointment.
He kissed the fair young face until her tears were dried, and told her
that she was forgiven for her momentary selfishness, and that next year
they would come abroad again.
"To-morrow we must be upon the sea. I am very anxious to reach home,"
he said, little guessing that his words pierced her heart like the
point of a deadly poisoned dagger.