SHE BETRAYED HERSELF.
Rosalind knew, for Mrs. Goodwill gossiped to her about it, of the
strange alienation of Laurie and his bride.
A more ignoble nature might have triumphed in their pain, but to
Rosalind it only brought more grief.
Her unselfish love for Laurie demanded his happiness, rather than her
own.
And cruel and unworthy as she knew Lelia to be, she wished Laurie never
to find it out, never to realize that he was held in bitter bondage to
one he could not help but scorn.
The loquacious nurse had many theories to advance as the cause of the
alienation. Her favorite reason was that both were equally disappointed
in losing the bulk of their relative’s fortune.
Rosalind thought Laurie had too noble a nature for such petty spite.
But she held her peace, and kept revolving in her mind plans for
getting away from him whose presence brought such subtle pain and
pleasure blended that she could scarcely bear it.
She did not guess that through all his busy consultations with the
lawyer Laurie had the same train of thought running through his mind.
He must get away from association with Rosalind, or he could never turn
his thoughts from her back to the wife to whom he owed his fealty.
The day came when, as her guardian and administrator of his aunt’s
estate, he had to ask her where she wished to live out her life, what
plans she had made for present and future.
Rosalind had planned it all out by then, and she answered simply:
“I have been talking to Doctor White about my lingering nervousness and
debility, and he agrees with me that I ought to take Mrs. Goodwill and
go to some quiet spot by the seashore to rest and recuperate. After
that I should like to travel with an elderly companion, and see the
world.”
“It shall be as you wish,” he replied, with a sigh of relief, and so
ably did he second her efforts to get away that within two days she
was en route with the nurse for the sea, the others remaining behind to
close up the house and make the proper arrangements till her return.
A weight of care seemed to fall from Lelia’s shoulders with the going
of her rival.
Her distrust of Rosalind, her restless fears of betrayal, in spite
of the girl’s promise of silence, gave place to a sense of peace and
security.
Now that Rosalind, with her brilliant, dark eyes and pathetic red mouth
was gone, she could surely win Laurie back.
That night and the next she slept calmly, dreamlessly, with no
self-betrayal in word or gesture of her terrible secret.
Mrs. Ritchie was frankly delighted. She assured her daughter she was
cured.
“It was that girl’s presence that kept you nervous and fanciful, and no
wonder, having defrauded you of your inheritance!” she said. “But now
she is gone, and you do not talk in your sleep any more, lose no time
in making up with Laurie.”
That was easier said than done. He seemed oblivious to all her
exquisite costumes and tender blandishments. Lelia pouted that he was
always poring over horrid papers with that lawyer.
Something must be done, and Mrs. Ritchie and Lelia cunningly planned it
out.
Late that evening as he bent over some papers in the library, his
mother-in-law came softly in.
“Please pardon me for disturbing you,” she said gravely. “I have not
told you that Lelia has been ill and nervous every night since your
aunt died, and I am quite worn out with watching by her side. I say
nothing of your duty, but surely it should be your pleasure to relieve
me to-night. Will you come?”
“The maids----” he began, but she cut him short.
“Are all out attending a country ball. You cannot delegate your duty to
them! Laurie, this is monstrous! Did you marry my poor daughter just
to break her heart? Your scorn is killing her by inches. Come,” and he
obeyed the imperious beckoning of her hand.
Lelia had already retired. She lay, a vision of pearl-fair beauty,
among the lace-trimmed pillows.
“Oh, Laurie, you have come! I am so glad, for now poor mama can have a
night’s rest! I am so ill, so nervous. Will you sit by me and hold my
hand till I fall asleep? I am so tired.”
She did not mean to fall asleep at all, artful Lelia! She was only
waiting for the sense of her exquisite beauty to thrill him into love
again.
But her mother had given her a drop too much of the nervine, and with
her hand in his as he sat stiffly by the couch, she sank into a light
slumber.
Laurie looked down at the beautiful sleeper, wondering at his own
coldness. How transcendently fair she was, why could he not learn to
love her again? He must, because now she was his wife, he owed her all
his fealty.
Her lips moved with a murmured sentence. He bent his head eagerly to
listen.