AGNES BECOMES PATHETIC.
Ralph took Lina's hand and spoke to her in a sad broken voice, "On one
condition, Lina; go home with me now--my mother will receive you
joyfully. This miserable absence has not been made public. Take back the
protection you have abandoned. I will not ask your confidence, only be
honest and truthful with my mother. She loves you. She is forgiving as
the angels. Her beautiful virtues will redeem you, Lina. She is too
magnanimous for severity, too pure for cowardly hesitation"----
Lina began to weep on her pillow, till the pale hands with which she
covered her face, were wet with tears.
"Oh! she is good--she is an angel of love and mercy; but this is why it
is impossible for me to go back--don't ask me, oh! Ralph, Ralph, you are
killing me with this kindness. Go away, go away! perhaps God will let me
die, and then all will be right."
"Lina, this is infatuation; you _shall_ return home with me; have no
fear of my presence; in a week after you accept the shelter of my
father's roof, again I go away."
For an instant Lina brightened up, then a still more mournful expression
came to her eyes, quenching the gleam of yearning hope, and she shook
her head with a gesture of total despondency. "Don't, don't, my heart is
breaking. I could tell her nothing; _he_ has forbidden it."
"_He!_" repeated the young man, furiously, "great heavens, can you plead
such authority, and to me?"
"Forgive me, oh, forgive me; I am so feeble, so miserably helpless,
words escape me when I do not know it. Do not bring them up against me.
Oh, Ralph, I am very unhappy. The lonesomeness was killing me, and now
you have come upon me unawares, to turn that dull anguish into torture.
How could you ask me to go home? it was cruel--ah, me, how cruel!"
"What can I do, how shall I act?" cried Ralph, appealing to Agnes
Barker, who stood earnestly regarding the scene.
"Leave her at present," said the girl, softly smoothing Lina's tresses
with her hand. "Reflection may induce her to accept your noble offer;
certainly, at present, she is too ill for any attempt at a removal."
"I will consult my mother," said Ralph, looking mournfully down upon the
unhappy girl, whose eyelids began to quiver from the weight of tears
that pressed against them, when he spoke of her benefactress; "Lina,
promise me not to leave this place till I have consulted with her."
Again Lina struggled for energy to speak, but her voice only reached him
in a hoarse whisper.
"Ralph, don't; please never mention me to mamma, it can only do
harm--promise this, Ralph. I cannot plead, I cannot weep, but if this is
my last breath it prays you not to mention that you saw me, to your
mother."
Ralph hesitated till he saw Lina's eyes, that were fixed imploringly
upon him, closing with a deathly slowness, while her face became as
pallid as the linen on which it rested.
"Lina, Lina, I promise anything, only do not turn so white!" he
exclaimed, terrified by her stillness.
She opened her eyes quickly, and tried to smile, but the effort died out
in a faint quiver of the lips. She was too much exhausted even for
weeping.
"Come," said Agnes, laying her hand on the young man's arm; "this
excitement will do her more injury than you dream of. Go down stairs a
little while, and wait for me there."
Ralph took Lina's poor little hand from its rest on the counterpane,
and, with a touch of his old tenderness, was about to press his lips
upon it; but a bitter memory seized him, and he dropped it, murmuring,
"Poor child, poor child, it is a hard wish, but God had been merciful if
this stillness were, indeed, death!"
A pang of tender sorrow ran through Lina's apparently lifeless frame, as
a broken lily is disturbed by the wind, but she had no strength even for
a sob; she heard his footsteps as he went out, but they sounded afar
off, and, when all was still, she fell into total unconsciousness.
Then the woman who had received Ralph and Agnes came in from an
adjoining room, and, bending down, listened for the breath that had just
been suspended; when satisfied that the poor sufferer was totally
unconscious, she turned with a fierce look upon Agnes.
"Now, Agnes, tell me the meaning of this intrusion. How dare you bring
that young man here without my permission?"
"I brought him, madam, because you were resolved to leave my share of
the compact half-performed. Did I not warn you in the beginning that his
alienation from this girl must be complete? Nothing would convince him
that she was utterly lost, but the sight he has just witnessed. It was a
dangerous experiment, but I have conquered with it."
"And for what purpose? I tell you, girl, all this craft and perseverance
is exhausted for nothing. You are constantly crossing my purposes, and
only to defeat yourself in the end."
"It is useless reasoning in this fashion," answered Agnes, insolently;
"half-confidences always lead to confusion. The truth is, madam, you
have not at any time really studied my interests; there is something
beyond it all that I have had no share in from the first. I have been
frank and above-board, while you are all mystery. My love for the young
gentleman below was confessed the moment my own heart became conscious
of it. Nothing but his lingering trust in this frail thing kept back all
the response to that love that I can desire. This visit has utterly
uprooted that faith. The way is clear now. Another month, and you shall
see if I am defeated."
The woman smiled derisively.
"Poor fool," she said, "a single sweep of my hand--or a word from my
lips, and all your romantic dreams are dashed away. I have separated the
miserable girl from her lover to gratify the wildest delusion that ever
entered a human brain. This very night I sent for you, that this game of
cross-purposes might have an end. The confidence you have so often asked
for, would have been yours but for this rash introduction of the young
man into a house he should never have seen."
"Give me that confidence now, and it may avail something!" answered
Agnes, always insolent and disrespectful to the woman before her; "that
I have some of your precious blood in my veins, you have taken plenty of
opportunities to impress upon me, but it shall not prevent my seeking
happiness in my own way!"
"Then you are resolved to entice this young man into a marriage, Agnes?"
"I am resolved that he shall desire it as much as myself."
Again Zillah covered the girl with her scornful glances.
"I tell you, girl," she broke forth passionately, "this is a subject
that you shall not dare to trifle with. I desire you to leave General
Harrington's house; it is no safe home for you. Obey me, and, in a
little time all the fragments of my legacy shall be yours."
"I should fancy those fragments were pretty well used up, if all the
finery in this house is paid for," said Agnes, with a scornful laugh.
"Even as a speculation, my own project is the best."
"Then you are determined to stay in the house with this young man?"
"Why, am I not well protected, and is it not the most natural thing in
the world? Mrs. Harrington has lost her companion--I fill her place.
Then, there is the precious old chambermaid; she might have more
dangerous people in the house than I am."
"True," muttered Zillah, thoughtfully. "Well, girl, take your own way a
little longer; but, remember, I must have a promise that no engagement
shall be made with Ralph Harrington without my previous knowledge. A few
weeks, Agnes, will bring our affairs to a crisis--when you and I shall
be all-powerful or nothing. As for this wild--but hush!"
Zillah pointed warningly toward the bed, where Lina was struggling into
consciousness again. "Are you better, love?" she inquired, gently
bending over the pale form.
But Lina faintly turned away her head, without even an attempt at
speech.
Taking advantage of the moment, Agnes left the chamber, and glided down
into the room where Ralph sat waiting, harassed with painful thoughts.
He did not notice Agnes as she came gliding up the room, and took her
place on the sofa by his side; but directly the clasp of soft fingers on
his hand, which fell listlessly on the cushion, made him look up, and
the large, compassionate eyes of Agnes Barker looked into his.
Unconsciously he clasped the fingers that had sought his. "How is she
now? I am sure that you were kind to her, poor young thing."
Agnes did not answer; but, as he looked up, astonished at her silence,
the sight of her dark eyes flooded with tears, and a broken sob that
struggled up from her bosom, took him by surprise. In all his
acquaintance with her, he had never seen Agnes shed a tear till that
moment.
"You are ready to cry," he said, gratefully. "Heaven knows a better
reason for tears never existed--poor, lost girl!"
"You give me too much credit," said Agnes, in a low voice; "from my soul
I pity the unhappy young creature up-stairs--but, indeed, indeed I envy
her, too!"
"Envy her?"
"Indeed, yes, that so much love--such heavenly forgiveness can outlive
her fault; that she has even now the power to reject the compassion
withheld from deeper and purer feelings in others. Oh, yes, Ralph
Harrington, it is envy more than anything else that fills my eyes with
tears."
"Agnes!" exclaimed the young man, breathlessly.
The girl bent her head, and made a faint effort to withdraw her hand
from his tightened clasp. Directly Ralph relinquished the hand slowly,
and arose.
"Miss Barker, you pity me. You feel compassion for the tenacity of
affection which clings around its object even in ruin. I understand
this, and am grateful."
Agnes clenched the rejected hand in noiseless passion, but Ralph only
saw the great tears that fell into her lap. He stood a moment
irresolute, and then placed himself again by her side.
"Do not weep, Miss Barker; you only make my unhappiness more complete!"
He looked up, and again their eyes met.
"If it were so, you can at least give me pity in exchange for pity!" she
said, with gentle humility; "faith to the faithless cannot forbid this
to me."
Ralph was silent; in the tumult of his thoughts he forgot to answer, and
that moment Zillah entered the room.