“HERE IS YOUR RING.”
Pretty little Zaidee would never have carried her coquetry so far if
she had dreamed what would come of it that day.
It did not seem such a dreadful thing, either, to any one but Lelia,
for the young girl to declare she was just dying for a ride on Saint,
and wished Mr. Willoughby would come with her on Satan.
Laurie assented with pleasure. It never occurred to his mind that Lelia
could find fault over such a trifle.
So he cheerfully helped Zaidee up to a seat on Saint’s back, and,
vaulting lightly into his own saddle, away they went for a delightful
canter over the mountain road.
When they returned they found Lelia gone.
Mrs. Thurston said she had been taken suddenly ill, and had asked
Warren Beihl to drive her in the buggy back to The Crags.
Laurie, as in duty bound, made his excuses to the gay company, and
galloped away with a grave face, following his betrothed home.
Significant smiles and shruggings of shoulders greeted his departure,
and Bessie Hall, the vivacious brunette beauty, remarked:
“A nice row you have raised, Zaidee, by going off with Miss Ritchie’s
lover! Her brow was as black as a thunder-cloud, and I think she could
willingly murder you!”
“Oh, dear, I never meant any harm. Did she care, really?” cried the
petite coquette.
“She was furious--she could not hide it, and kept glowering at the road
you went, watching for your return. Every one could see that she was
trying to keep down an attack of hysteria, and at last she could stand
it no longer, so she got Warren Beihl to take her home, and, oh, won’t
Laurie Willoughby catch it as soon as he gets there, poor fellow!”
“I am very sorry, but she ought not to be so jealous--if I were engaged
to him, and he went for a ride with another girl, I shouldn’t consider
it a hanging matter!” laughed merry little Zaidee.
“Oh, she will just pout a while, then they will kiss and make up,” said
Geoffrey Graves.
“How do you know?” asked Irene Mays.
“Oh, I’ve been there myself,” he replied slangily, turning the laugh
on himself, and then they proceeded to enjoy themselves. Warren Beihl
returning presently with a message from Lelia to that effect.
“Did she find it necessary to call in the doctor?” they asked, with
gentle sarcasm.
“Oh, no; not while I was there. She dismissed me as soon as we reached
The Crags, telling me she would go and lie down till she felt better.
As I met her recreant knight hurrying to her side, I presume her
convalescence will not be long delayed,” he returned laughingly.
They all persisted in treating it as a little joke, and in bantering
Zaidee on the lovers’ quarrel she had brought about; but while they
amused themselves in the grove, Laurie Willoughby was going through a
very unpleasant scene at The Crags.
When he had sent up to Lelia’s room, to ask after her health, she had
hurried down to him in a towering rage.
Bitterly, hysterically she upbraided her lover for his imagined
falsity, charging him with having transferred his love to a designing
little coquette.
His short ride with little Zaidee was magnified into a heinous offense
against Lelia’s rights.
“After escorting me there, you deserted me for that hateful little
minx!”
“I was not absent as long as an hour, Lelia, and as the young lady
asked for my escort, I could not refuse without discourtesy to our
guest. I am sure the little girl is very sweet and innocent, and never
dreamed she was doing anything offensive to you,” he answered gently.
“Oh, yes; ‘sweet and innocent,’ of course! Why don’t you add beautiful,
also? I have seen all along she was winning your heart from me.”
With a sarcastic smile, the tortured lover retorted:
“You must credit me with a very elastic heart, indeed! Scarcely two
weeks ago you were vowing I was in love with Gipsy Darke.”
“As, indeed, you were, until Zaidee Preston came and rivaled her in
your fickle heart. And last night you stood by Irene Mays half an hour
while she was at the piano.”
“Only turning her music, Lelia.”
“That will do for an excuse, of course, but I saw how she maneuvered
to keep you there--and afterward you read poetry by the hour to Bessie
Hall! Oh, I can never comprehend, never, why Aunt Cyrilla invited that
trio of wretched flirts to The Crags, unless it was to torment me to
death!” with an angry sob.
“She invited them because she thought these gay young girls would make
your visit pleasant, dearest. She thought you had outgrown childish
things, and put away jealousy and spite with them,” he answered, with
latent sternness.
Lelia sprang up, towering over him in his seat like a beautiful Fury,
her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes blazing with resentment.
“Jealousy and spite!--This to me!--To Lelia Ritchie! How dare you, sir?
Now, indeed, I realize you never loved me!” she hissed, in wrath and
scorn.
“I half-believe you are right, Lelia!” he answered, with sudden furious
passion, goaded beyond endurance by her injustice.
“So you own the truth at last! But I knew it, I knew it before! Your
heart is too fickle to keep faith with any one!” she raved.
“Have I not loved you always, Lelia?” he asked reproachfully.
“No, you owned it yourself just now that you had never loved me.”
“I spoke in anger, dear. You pushed me too hard, and I could not bear
your injustice. Will you not believe that my heart is always true to
you, and let us put an end to these unpleasant scenes forever?” he
asked, with repressed feelings.
“I see your drift. You are weary of me, you long for freedom. Very
well, here is your ring! Good-by!” sobbed Lelia tragically.
The large diamond lay sparkling in his hand like a big tear. He sighed
from the bottom of his heart as he said:
“This is the third time you have broken our engagement, Lelia, and then
called me back again. Let me save you a night of grief and repentance
by putting it back on your finger now. Broken engagements are said to
be very unlucky.”
“No, I have broken with you forever now. I do not love you any longer.
You have tortured me with your cruel flirtations until you have driven
me nearly mad,” she replied, with a tragic air.
“You really mean what you say, Lelia? All is ended between us forever?”
She saw with pleasure how pale and wretched he looked, the poor victim
of her caprice whom she was torturing as usual, to whistle him back
when she had punished him enough.
“Yes, I mean every word,” she said, with freezing hauteur. “You
have killed the love I once had for you, and my heart has turned to
another.” With this cruel thrust, she bowed to Laurie, and haughtily
retired.