BROTHER AND SISTER.
Lina could not rest. She went to her room, but it seemed so changed, so
unlike her old home, that a terror, that was almost insanity, fell upon
her. The rich blue curtains, to her excited mind, looked sombre against
their underwaves of frost-like lace, and her bed, with its snowy canopy,
now overclouded with damask, had a deadly whiteness about it, that made
her shrink within herself, as if some leprosy had fallen upon her, which
forbade her ever again to approach a thing so pure.
Lina crept into this room sad and disheartened; looking wearily around,
she cowered down on the carpet in the farthest corner, and sat watching
the door, as if she expected some enemy to come in and drive her forth.
At the least sound in the hall she would start and shrink back with a
moan upon her white lips, but she shed no tears, and her look was rather
one of affright than of the intense grief which had overpowered her
while in the presence of General Harrington.
At that moment there was a hurried tread upon the staircase. Every pulse
in Lina's heart throbbed wildly, and she sat leaning eagerly forward
with a half-expectant, half-frightened air, as the steps paused before
her door. A low, quick knock caused her to start from the floor. She
looked wildly round, as if seeking some means of escape, then sunk
against the wall, while her whole frame trembled with agitation. The
knock was repeated, and she covered her face with her hands, uttering a
low, shuddering moan. A third time that impatient summons shook her form
as with a convulsion, and when a voice, whose lightest tone possessed
the power to move her inmost soul, reached her ear in an eager whisper,
she rose again and stood upright, transfixed by that voice, which had
never before met her ear without filling her whole being with gentle
pleasure.
"Lina--Lina--are you there?"
It was Ralph who spoke. Lina gasped for breath and wrung her hands
desperately, like one who entreats for mercy, and feels that it is all
in vain.
"Lina, answer me--are you there?"
"I am here," she replied, in a low, unnatural tone.
"Open the door, Lina--I want to speak to you."
"Ralph, I cannot!"
"Cannot! What ails you, Lina? _Do_ open the door. Let me speak to you
for a moment."
She staggered feebly to the door, then with a quick motion, the hurried
resolve of which was strangely at variance with her previous hesitation,
flung it open, and stood before the young man.
"Why, Lina, have you forgotten your promise?" he began eagerly; then,
checked himself, as he raised his eyes to her face, and marked the
wildness of her glance, and ghastly pallor of her cheek. "Lina, what is
the matter? Are you ill? Tell me, Lina, what ails you?" He took her
hands in his, with a manner in which the impetuosity of a youthful
lover, and the kind, protecting air of a brother, were strangely
mingled.
"Answer me, Lina, my own Lina."
But Lina had no words; when her eyes met his, the tears which during her
lonely vigil had refused to flow, burst forth, and she buried her head
in her hands, sobbing like a frightened child. Ralph folded his arms
about her, and drew her back into the chamber, gathering her closely to
his heart, as if to reassure her by his protecting presence. He did not
question her again for several moments, but forcing her head gently down
on his shoulder, he strove to soothe her with whispered words, until she
gathered strength to check her tears, and drew herself from him,
striving all the time to appear more composed.
"Now tell me, Lina, what does this mean?"
She shook her head sadly, murmuring:
"Nothing, Ralph, nothing."
"Do not trifle with me, Lina. Something must have occurred to cause this
agitation. Can you not trust me?"
"There is nothing the matter! I was ill, and--and cried without knowing
why."
"You cannot deceive me with an excuse like that. Has any one hurt your
feelings! _do_ tell me what has happened."
But Lina only shook her head, and choked back the despair which rose to
her lips. He would have taken her in his arms again, but the movement
and the touch of his hand roused her to the fearful consciousness that
she had no longer a right to seek consolation in his companionship. She
broke away, terrified and oppressed, with a feeling of guilt at her
momentary forgetfulness.
"Leave me, Ralph, I wish--I need to be alone."
"You wish--you _need_ to be alone! This is very strange, Lina! Will you
give me no explanation? Have I offended you--tell me what I can have
done? You know that I would rather die ten thousand deaths than cause
you a moment's pain."
"Do not speak so, Ralph; do not torture me by such fears. You have never
wounded me by word or look--you have always been kind and generous."
"Thank you! thank you! Then tell me what pains you! Darling, darling,
you cannot know how I suffer to see you in this state. I must have an
explanation. Lina, you have no right to refuse it."
"I can give none! Ralph, leave me, I must be alone. Another time I may
be able to converse, but now"--she broke off abruptly, wringing her
hands in impotent despair, while the great tears fell over them, like
the last heavy drops of a spent shower. "Leave me, Ralph, leave me!" she
exclaimed, with a gesture of insane agony.
"I cannot understand this! Can this be Lina--my own dear little Lina,
always so confiding and truthful? Since my earliest recollection have
you not known my every thought and wish--been as familiar with my heart
as you were with your own? This is the first time that the slightest
shadow has fallen upon your mind against me, yet there you stand,
separated from me by some fearful sorrow, to which I can obtain no
clue."
"Do not speak so, Ralph! I repeat that nothing troubles me much! Will
you not believe me?"
"I never doubted your word before, Lina; but now--forgive me--I feel
that you are concealing something terrible from me. When I left you,
this morning, you promised to walk with me, and I hurried here the
moment I was free, longing to take a ramble over the hills--will you not
go?"
"Not to-day. I cannot--I am ill."
"Do not seek to excuse yourself! Say at once that you do not choose to
go."
"You misunderstand me, Ralph, indeed you do."
"Forgive me, Lina; I am so maddened by the sight of your tears, that I
scarcely know what I am saying. Only confide in me--can you not trust
me, your lover, your betrothed?"
"God help me!" broke from Lina's white lips, but the exclamation was
unheeded by the young man in his agitation.
"Have you a desire to hide anything from me--can you love, when you
refuse to trust me."
"Ralph, leave me! If you have any mercy, go away, and let me be alone."
In her frenzy she threw up her arms with a gesture which seemed to him
almost one of repulsion. He looked at her for a moment, his heart
bursting with the first revelation of its woe, then muttering--
"Lina, has it come to this?" he sprang from the room, and the sound of
his flying footsteps on the stair recalled her to a consciousness of
what had befallen her.
She strove to utter his name, but it died husky and low in her parched
throat. She must fly--anywhere to be out in the air, for the atmosphere
of that close chamber seemed stifling her. She caught up a shawl which
lay on a table, and rushed from the room and from the house. A sudden
thought, which seemed instinct rather than reason, had made her start
thus madly away to search for old Ben, the honest protector of her
childhood, hoping that from him she could gather some explanation of the
secret that seemed crushing the life from her frame.