A LETTER FROM LAURIE.
After such a gruesome tragedy, and with the mistress of The Crags lying
critically ill, the house-party broke up by unanimous consent.
The gloom of death brooded over The Crags, the same as if a corpse lay
under the roof, and all felt it the proper thing to depart.
Lelia did not try to detain them. She agreed with them that it was,
indeed, a house of mourning now, and might better be left to time and
solitude.
By night all were gone, and Lelia and Mrs. Goodwill kept vigil by the
sick-bed of Miss Cyrilla.
She had already telegraphed her mother and the general, Laurie’s
father, that her aunt lay at the point of death.
She knew that this message would bring them both at once.
She hoped, too, that it would lure Laurie back.
When he came she would lose no time in making up with him, and keeping
the peace hereafter, for Lelia had learned her lesson at bitter cost,
and she meant to profit by it.
She made up her mind that, after their reconciliation, there should be
a hasty marriage, forging his fetters too tightly for him to slip them
again.
In her breast throbbed ever one passionate yearning:
“If he will only return--if he will only return!”
The dreary night waned, and brought another golden summer day. She had
received no reply to her telegram to her relatives, but she believed
that the noon train would bring them from Charleston.
She knew her mercenary mother would spare no pains to ingratiate
herself with Miss Cyrilla, hoping to secure her fortune for her
daughter.
When Crawford returned with the morning’s mail, she pounced eagerly
upon it, carrying it hastily to her own room to read.
She had a faint hope that Laurie might have repented and written to her
to take him back.
Oh, how gladly she would assent, how joyously greet him on his return.
Nothing should ever come between them again. She would conquer all that
self-will and jealousy that had wrought such evil and branded her
heart with remorse forever.
Eagerly she ran over the letters, looking for the familiar handwriting.
Yes, there it was, Laurie’s own bold hand! But, alas! It was addressed
to Miss Cyrilla Willoughby.
He had written to his aunt, not to Lelia.
“She is too ill to read it. And I--I cannot wait! I must know what he
says. It is all in the family, anyhow!” she muttered, and recklessly
tore open the letter, devouring its contents with burning eyes.
As she read her face grew pallid to grayness, her eyes dull, her lips
drawn with pain; she shuddered like one in an ague chill, moaning:
“Who would have dreamed of this? Surely he was in terrible haste to be
on with the new love!”
She dropped the letter from her shaking hand to the floor, and spurned
it with her dainty foot as if it had been a serpent. Surely its
contents had not been pleasant.
Her eyes fell on the other letter, and she started violently. It was in
the same familiar writing, and this time addressed to Miss Gipsy Darke.
“My God! Can I bear any more?” groaned Lelia, madly tearing it open.
The enclosure contained no letter, just a short poem.
“TO G.
“By those dark eyes, where light is ever playing,
Where Love in depth of shadow holds his throne;
And by those lips, which give whate’er thou’rt saying--
Or grave or gay, a music of its own--
A music far beyond all minstrel’s playing.
I love but thee--I love but thee!
“By that fair brow, where Innocence reposes,
As pure as moonlight sleeping upon snow;
And by that cheek, whose fleeting blush discloses
A hue too bright to bless this world below,
And only fit to dwell on Eden’s roses,
I love but thee--I love but thee!
“LAURIE.”
A sound like a serpent’s hiss came from the writhing lips of Lelia:
“It is well that she is dead already, or the crime would lie before me
yet! I can never repent it now--never; though my triumph doom my soul
to Hades!”
A rap on her door made her start guiltily to her feet, snatching up the
letters and hiding them away.
Then she turned the door-knob with a shaking hand.
It was only a servant with a telegram from General Willoughby. He
would arrive with Mrs. Ritchie on the noon train.
Not a word of Laurie.
So he would not come.
She gave curt directions for a carriage to be sent for her mother and
the general.
Then she shut herself in again with her bitter thoughts, her jealous
despair.
The most terrible thing in the world had happened.
She had lost Laurie’s love!
And now, when it was forever too late, she realized it was all her own
fault.
How kind and patient and tender he had always been!
As for her, she had been proud and jealous and domineering, always
ruling her noble lover with an iron rod.
She had made a mistake, but she would turn over a new leaf if she ever
got him back.
Oh, why had he not come? Surely he did not know yet about the tragedy
at The Crags, about the disappearance of Gipsy Darke.
If he had known that he would surely have hastened back to seek a clue
to Gipsy’s murderer.
Lelia shuddered with fear, then laughed hysterically:
“I am not afraid, for nothing can happen to me! I have put them all on
the wrong scent, and they will always believe the diamond-robbers did
it for revenge. But Laurie will come back when he reads all about it in
the papers, and then I will get him back, I swear it! Mama will know
how to help me, she is so clever!”
The general and Mrs. Ritchie arrived promptly, and they were shocked to
learn of the horrible tragedy.
“Poor little Gipsy Darke, she had turned out to be a noble girl! Only
think, she saved yours and Laurie’s life, as well as your diamonds! I
quite intended to do something for her as soon as she got well. The
general and I had been discussing what sort of form our gratitude
should take,” remarked Mrs. Ritchie.
“Oh, mama, she could scarcely have appreciated your gratitude. She was
only a poor gipsy girl, you know, with no refinement of feeling. As for
saving us, she didn’t run much risk, you know. Satan knew her well, and
always obeyed her from fear of the lash. But, of course, it’s shocking
she came to an end through those horrible burglars. It grieves me very
much! But the most I can think of now is my own trouble with Laurie,”
she tearfully added. “Oh, mama, did he tell you that we had broken our
engagement?”