RALPH FINDS LINA.
Ralph had been alone only a moment when Agnes came back, apparently in
breathless haste.
"Be ready," she whispered, "follow me after a moment--the room is dark
next to hers; be cautious and you can both see and hear what passes."
Before he could accept or reject her proposition, she was gone.
"It is but right," he reflected, controlling the first honorable impulse
which revolted at this secret method of gaining information; "there is
some mystery which can never be fathomed by straight-forward questions.
I will not listen meanly; but proper or not, if Lina French is in this
house I will speak with her!"
Obeying the impulse urged by these thoughts, he passed through the half
open door, and following Agnes by the rustle of her dress, paused in the
chamber she had designated, reluctant to enter the room beyond; for he
saw at a glance that the bed which stood at one end was occupied. A
white hand fell over the side, working nervously among the folds of the
counterpane, as if the person who lay there was awake and ill at ease.
Breathless with emotions which crowded fast and painfully upon him, the
young man sunk into a chair, and covering his face with both hands,
strove thus to gain some portion of self-control; but the first tone of
Lina's voice set him to trembling from head to foot, and it was a moment
before he could see objects distinctly enough to recognize her in her
white robe and among those snowy pillows.
"So you have come at last," she said, rising on one elbow and holding
out her hand to Agnes, with a look of eager delight, which flushed her
cheeks and kindled her blue eyes with a wild brilliancy the young man
had never seen in them before; "tell me, oh, tell me how they all
are--my dear, dear mamma, is she well? does she pine about my
absence--does she talk of me?"
"Mrs. Harrington is grieved and very anxious," said Agnes Barker,
gently, "why did you leave them so abruptly, Miss French?"
"I could not help leaving them. It was time. My presence there was sure
to bring trouble and--and--don't ask me about it. Let me rest. Don't you
understand that it has nearly killed me. It was great love that drove me
away--nothing else. Still I did not mean to go just then. A few days
would not have made so much difference, and they would have been heaven
to me; oh, such heaven, such heaven, you cannot guess how precious every
moment was at the last!"
"But why did you send for me?" questioned Agnes, gently. "Is it that you
wish to go back?"
"Go back!" cried the poor girl, starting up with a flush of wild delight
that faded away in an instant; "oh why did you say this cruel thing? It
is too late--it is impossible; I can never go back, never, never,
never!"
Lina fell back upon her pillows, and began to moan piteously, but made a
brave attempt to stifle her sobs on the pillow.
"No, no, I did not send to you with that hope, only it was so hard to
sit in this room day after day and hear nothing--not even that they
hated me. I think that would have been better than this dull
uncertainty. I only wanted to hear just one little word; my poor heart
has asked for it so long, and now you tell me nothing."
"What can I tell you except that your flight has filled the whole
household with grief and consternation."
"I knew it--I was sure they would feel the gloom, but that was better
than remaining a curse and a shame to them all, you know."
"A curse and a shame, Miss French!" said Agnes, with dignity; "these are
harsh words applied to one's-self. I hope you do not deserve them."
"Did I say shame?" cried Lina, starting up in affright; "well, well, if
I did, it cannot reach him or wound poor mamma; as for me, why, it is
not much matter, you know; the world does not care what becomes of a
poor little girl like me."
A shade of compassion stole over Agnes Barker's face. She took Lina's
hand in hers, and pressed it softly to her lips.
"You look grieved. I hope it is for me," said the gentle girl, and her
eyes filled with tears. "It won't hurt you or any one to be sorry for a
poor child who is so very, very miserable."
Ralph would endure this touching scene no longer; he started up and
rushed towards the bed, with both trembling hands extended, and his
chest heaving with emotion.
"Lina, Lina!" he cried, falling on his knees by the bed. "Stop, Lina,
you are killing me--oh, girl, girl, what had I done that you should
bring this ruin on us both?"
Lina uttered a wild cry at his approach, half rose in the bed with her
arms outstretched, and flung herself upon his bosom, covering his hands,
his face and his hair with kisses, then as if struck to the soul with a
sudden memory, her arms fell away, her lips grew deadly white, and she
sunk back to the pillows, shuddering from head to foot.
"Lina, Lina, say that you love me yet--in the name of heaven tell me
what this means--never before have you seemed to love me entirely, and
now"----
"Now," she said, rising feebly to a sitting posture, "now sweep those
kisses away, sweep them utterly away, I charge you--there is shame and
sin in every one; would that my lips had been withered before they gave
such kisses, and to you, Ralph Harrington!"
"Lina, Lina French, is this real?" cried the young man, rising slowly to
his feet, pale as death, but checking the tears that had at first rushed
tenderly to his eyes. "May the God of heaven forgive you and help me,
for I had rather die than meet the pang of this moment."
"I know, I know it is dreadful--see what it has done!"
She lifted up her pale hand that had fallen away till it looked almost
transparent, like that of a sick child, and held it trembling towards
him. Then she besought him, with mournful entreaty, to go away, for her
heart had ceased to beat. She wanted time for prayer before the
death-pang came.
There was a depth of despondency in her voice, and an utter hopelessness
of speech that touched every kind feeling in the young man's heart.
"No, Lina, I will not leave you in this unhappy condition," he said;
"your words have shocked me beyond everything; nothing but your own
avowal would have convinced me that one so good as you were, Lina, could
have--have--oh! Lina, Lina, this is terrible."
"I know it," she answered faintly, "I know it, but we must be patient."
"Patient!" exclaimed the young man, "but if I can be nothing else, one
thing is certain, I have the right of a wronged, outraged brother to
protect you, this specious hypocrite shall answer for the ruin he has
brought upon us all!"
Lina started up wildly, "Ralph, Ralph, of whom are you speaking?"
"Of the man who has wronged you, Lina--who has disgraced the name of
Harrington, and who, so help me God! shall yet render you such justice
as the case permits."
Lina gasped for breath, "you know it then--who told you, not my--not
him?"
"No one told me, Lina: he is not so base as to boast of the ruin he has
made; heaven forbid that one who has a drop of my blood in his veins
should sink low enough for that; but the facts, your presence here, this
cruel desertion of your friends, the insane tenacity with which you
cling to this miserable fate--is it not enough?"
"Then he knows nothing--oh! thank God for that," gasped Lina, with a
faint hysterical laugh.
"I know enough to justify me in demanding an explanation, and avenging
you after it is made," said Ralph, sternly.
"No, not that, I charge you, Ralph Harrington, not to ask this
explanation of any one. It will only deepen and widen the ruin that has
so far fallen on me alone--promise me, Ralph, promise me, if you would
not have me die before your eyes!"