"OH, THAT WORD 'REGRET!'"
"Ah, rosebud mouth for kisses made,
And are you not the least afraid?
And do not know, my little one,
What mischief kisses sweet have done,
O'er all the world and through all time,
In every age and every clime?"
--D. L. PROUDFIT.
"I think we shall find her here under her favorite tree," said Earle
Winans as he and Lord Chester came down toward the river.
It was the morning after the picnic, and Earle had gone after breakfast
to the station to meet his friend, Lord Chester.
Precious and Norah, with the ever faithful Kay, had gone down to the
river as soon as the dew was dry on the grass.
Precious sat under an apple tree with her dog at her feet. Norah chose
another tree close by and resumed her favorite lace knitting.
It was a scene of the most exquisite beauty, and the spirit of peace
seemed brooding over the spot.
The orchard trees were pink with bloom, and the soft green grass was
studded with violets, pale yellow cowslips and golden buttercups.
Overhead arched a sky as blue as that of Italy, and in the sweet warm
sunshine the blithe birds were flitting and singing, while the hum of
bees in the may blooms blent in the music of the river rippling along
at the young girl's feet.
She had taken along a book to read, but she had not opened it yet. She
was gazing dreamily at the river, now and then throwing flowers on the
swift-flowing stream and watching them drift away out of sight.
So the young men came upon her unawares, and when Lord Chester saw her
he started with keen delight at the lovely vision. When he had told
Ethel how much he admired her sister's portrait she had answered that
it was flattered, that Precious was not half so beautiful.
He realized instantly that Ethel had spoken falsely that day.
Precious Winans, in her white gown and with her pearl-fair face,
velvet-blue eyes, and cloud of golden ringlets, was the most exquisite
beauty he had ever beheld. She looked like a young angel strayed away
from paradise, and when she raised to his her liquid eyes, so clear and
innocent, he saw mirrored in their depths a pure, true soul.
Then Earle said in his most genial tone:
"Precious, this is Lord Chester. You must be very friendly with him,
for some day he will be your brother. He tells me he is engaged to
Ethel."
"I am very glad," Precious answered simply.
She rose and put out her hand to him. He clasped it a moment with
lingering pressure, and while he held it felt himself grow dizzy with a
rapture so keen it was akin to pain.
"From my swift blood that went and came,
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shivered in my narrow frame."
He murmured something in a low voice, he scarcely knew what; then Earle
said carelessly:
"I will leave you two to entertain each other while I go over and tease
Norah a little."
He turned away and left the pair together--two young romantic hearts in
that romantic spot.
Precious stole a shy glance at her companion, and her girlish heart
thrilled with admiration for his manly beauty.
How grand and handsome he was! so tall, so graceful, his complexion so
clear and pale, his eyes such a splendid dark-gray, his close-clipped
hair such a shining chestnut brown, where it lay in careless waves on
his broad white brow.
They sat down close together, and Kay, after one or two suspicious
sniffs, threw himself on Lord Chester fawningly, recognizing him as his
comrade on the eventful occasion when their combined powers had saved
Precious from the fire.
"Kay remembers you," said Precious softly. "It was to you and him I
owed my life that night. I--I--have wished to thank you so often, but
now words fail me. Oh, Lord Chester, I cannot express my gratitude. I
was so young to die like that--to leave the beautiful gay world!"
She spoke as if life was a great boon. She was so young and fortunate,
she did not dream of all the sorrow the world contained; she had a
horror of death, that is so welcome to many.
"Do not thank me for doing my duty. It is reward enough for me to be
sitting here looking at you and listening to you," he answered gently,
as he caressed the mastiff that fawned at his knee, and his words were
simple truth.
It gave him a keen and subtle pleasure to breathe the same air with
Precious. The sky was bluer, the air sweeter, the sunshine more golden,
the bird songs sweeter, because they two were together there, smiling
at each other.
"Tell me about papa and mamma," she said, after a moment's silence.
"They are well. I saw them yesterday. I went to the capitol with your
mother and sister. Your father made a great speech on the tariff--the
most brilliant and telling effort I ever heard from his lips. He was
applauded to the echo. The galleries went wild."
"Dear papa. If I only had been there!" she cried, and her eyes kindled
with pride.
"In the afternoon," he continued, "I attended Mrs. Winans and Ethel to
the reception at the White House given by the president to the cabinet
ministers, senators and representatives. It was a grand affair, and the
banquet was magnificent."
"What did mamma wear? And Ethel?" she queried, with feminine curiosity
over silks and laces.
Lord Chester laughed and said:
"Very few men can describe a woman's dress. I'm not an adept at it,
but I remember how they looked. Your mamma wore a pale silvery-blue
brocade, softened by dainty real lace and pearls and diamonds. She
looked very beautiful. Your sister looked like a queen, in a white silk
embroidered lavishly with gold. Her hair was arranged in Grecian style
with a fillet of gold studded with rubies. She had so many admirers it
was difficult for any one to get within speaking distance."
"Dear Ethel, she is so beautiful. She looks like papa, with his
splendid eyes and rarely sweet smile! How I wish I had been there with
them! But mamma has promised that I shall come out in society next
winter. I shall be past seventeen then--too young, mamma and Ethel say,
but papa is on my side, and we shall carry the day!" with a sunny,
willful smile.
"You are General Winans' favorite, I know," returned the young man,
smiling, and he said to himself that he applauded her father's taste.
His betrothed was very beautiful and queenly, but her sister was the
realization of a man's ideal of everything lovely and lovable.
"I wonder if they thought of me moping here in the country!" continued
Precious softly.
"Yes, I am sure they did, for I heard your father saying to his wife
that he had been thinking of you all the afternoon, and that he really
must get away Saturday and spend Sunday with you at Rosemont."
"Oh, I shall be so glad. I shall beg him to let me go home with him,"
she cried beamingly. "Didn't they send me any message by you, Lord
Chester?"
"They didn't know I was coming. It was after I had left them that
evening I received the telegram from Earle to join him here for a day
or two. I didn't have time to leave a note for Ethel; had to hustle to
catch my train, you know. I can send her a line to-day."
Earle sauntered back to them, saying:
"I am going to the house now. Have some letters to write. Do you care
to come now?"
"Do you need me?"
"Not for two hours yet."
"Then I will stay here with your sister awhile longer, if she will
let me. I am lazy to-day, and this _dolce far niente_ suits my mood
exactly."
"Stay, then, for you certainly look the perfection of indolence.
Precious, you can bring him back when you get ready."
He turned away and then Norah called:
"I must go back, too."
"I am coming presently," Precious answered coaxingly, as she pulled
Kay's ears.
Lord Chester picked up her book from the grass.
"You were reading. Perhaps I disturb you?" interrogatively.
"You may read to me, if you will. I should like it very much," she
answered, leaning her golden head back against the tree, her eyes half
closed and dreamy, a pensive smile on her rosebud lips.
Seen thus she looked adorable. He gazed at her earnestly and felt as if
he would give the world to kiss those exquisite crimson lips.
Then he pulled himself together with a pang. He was betrothed to Ethel.
What right had he to feel his heart throb faster at the sight of her
sister's beauty? Those luscious pouting lips were not for him.
The little blue book opened at random in his hand. His eyes fell on a
suggestive line:
"Devils laugh when mortals kiss."
The young man started and trembled. Then he read on:
"Alas, and who shall count the cost
Of human souls for love's sake lost?
For peasant's hut and kingly crown,
And rural dell and stately town,
And vineyards ripening in the sun,
And kingdoms by the strong arm won,
And armies marshaled for the fray,
Have been overthrown and swept away,
Betrayed and wrecked and lost for this,
The needless harvest of a kiss!"
He was silent so long that the dreamy, half-shut eyes unclosed and
looked at him in wonder.
"Are you not going to read?" she asked in a tone of disappointment.
"I don't think my voice is in tune to-day. I'm hoarse as a raven. I'll
read you a verse and then you will cry, 'Hold! enough.'"
She laughed, and Lord Chester began:
"A sweeter, sadder thing,
My life for having known you,
Forever with its sacred kin,
My soul's soul, I must own you
Forever mine, my friend,
From June to life's December--
Not mine to have or hold,
But to pray for and remember."
His voice _was_ discordant with the hoarseness of subtle pain. He let
the little book fall on the grass.
"You see?" he said.
"Yes you do not read well," she answered frankly. "But how can I amuse
you? Shall I read to you, or talk?"
"Neither," he replied with a forced smile. "Let us sit very, very quiet
for awhile and listen to the river. It has a voice, you know, and when
we listen thoughtfully it will repeat over and over some one word,
according to your fancy. Then you shall tell me what it said to you and
I will confess what it said to me."
"What a romantic thought! but I like it," cried Precious, and for some
time both remained silent; listening to the low, monotonous ripple of
the river.
She did not know that he wanted to be silent awhile to fight a battle
with his own heart, to gain strength to bear a cross of pain.
"Well?" he asked her presently in a gentle voice.
She answered pensively:
"It kept whispering, whispering over and over, one sad word: 'Regret!
regret! regret!'"
"Mine was similar," said Lord Chester. "Its burden was, 'Too late! too
late! too late!'"
He looked at her, and she lost her pensive air and smiled.
"I felt quite solemn while I was silent," she said. "And it was several
minutes before I could make out the river's words. I am sorry they gave
us plaintive words."
"I was wondering," he answered dreamily, "whether each would catch the
same word."
"Oh, that would have been very amusing," cried Precious.
"Yes," he answered gently, "there was one word--one--that I should
have liked it to echo to both our hearts. I should have taken it for a
prophecy."
"What word?" asked Precious with innocent curiosity.
In spite of herself she returned his look. Dark-gray eyes met the
tender blue ones in one long, lingering, thrilling glance. What did
they say to each other?
"How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek,
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache,
In the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendor,
In the fire
Glance strikes with glance."
With an effort Precious withdrew her eyes from his, the color flaming
up into her cheeks, her bosom heaving a low soft sigh, while Lord
Chester echoed the sigh and looked away at the distant hills in a
strange silence. Yet he had answered the girl's question without a word!
And after that it was hard to make conversation.
At last Precious grew frightened at her own silence.
She felt so strangely, her cheeks burned, her heart beat heavily in the
stillness, her lips seemed glued together.
Suddenly he spoke, but without turning his glance from the mountains:
"Pardon my silence. I must seem very dull to you. I was trying to hear
the river say your word 'Regret.'"
And before she could answer he added:
"Do you know Miss Ingelow's poem 'Regret?'"
She answered in a low voice, with a deepening flush:
"Yes, I found it once in a book of mamma's, heavily underlined. It
begins like this:
"'Oh, that word Regret!
There have been nights and morns when we have sighed,
Let us alone, Regret.'"
"Ugh! it gives me the dismals!" he groaned, and she paused diffidently.
That strange, throbbing silence fell again, and frightened her. It was
like some mesmeric spell.
She cried out quickly:
"Let us go up to the house."
Her broad leghorn sun-hat lay on the grass and she stretched out her
arm for it.
A terrible shriek followed.
In the soft green grass beneath the broad brim of the hat a deadly
rattlesnake had lain coiled. At her disturbing touch it reared its evil
head and struck its fangs into her arm.
Lord Chester saw it all, and with a loud cry sprang forward, setting
his heel on the serpent's head ere it could strike the second blow. It
writhed hideously for a moment, then lay still in death.
Precious had fallen back, deathly pale and half unconscious, against
the tree. He fell on his knees beside her and cried out tenderly:
"Do not be frightened, my darling. I will suck the poison from the
wound."
And he placed his lips on the tiny wound on her slender wrist and with
desperate fervor drew forth the fatal venom, spitting it again and
again on the ground.
When he felt that the danger was removed, he looked up at her and
saw that her eyes wore closed in apparent unconsiousness. With
uncontrollable love he clasped her in his arms and kissed the cold
white lips, sobbing:
"My love! my darling!"