Mary Harrison was reeling like a drunken person; she clutched at a
chair. "Jim," she gasped, "what's to become of me?"
"You know that I'll always see that you are taken care of," he began.
"I don't--I don't mean that," she cried. "But, oh--I love you--I can't
do without you! Where in Heaven's name am I to go?" and she flung
herself upon him with a passionate cry. "What am I to do?" she cried,
again and again. "How can I bear it?"
He strove to calm her. "Listen," he whispered, "don't take it so hard.
Perhaps you may forget me--please don't act like that."
She was shuddering convulsively. "No, no!" she cried. "It would kill
me--it would!" And then suddenly she leapt to her feet, her eyes
blazing. "I'll kill that woman!" she panted. "That's what I'll do!"
The man drew her to him again, striving to calm her. "No, no, Mary," he
said. "That will only make it worse for me. If you love me, you must
give me up. That is the only way."
She sat there, white and trembling, moaning to herself. She smoothed the
beautiful hair back from her forehead, and sat staring in front of her
with a dazed expression.
"Give you up!" she whispered hoarsely. "Give you up!"
Her companion felt extremely uncomfortable; naturally, a good-hearted
man does not like to make a woman suffer, especially a woman whom he
still loves. He had made up his mind, however, and he meant to carry it
through. He let her lean on his bosom and sob away her grief.
"And can't I ever see you--even just a little bit?" she moaned.
"No," he said firmly. "Can you not see, Mary, that there is no place in
the world where I could keep you that that woman could not track me to?
She has found me out and tracked me here already and she could ruin me,
Mary, drive me to kill myself."
The other shuddered. "No," she said, "you must not do that. You are
right, and I must make the sacrifice. I will go--I can bear it, I guess.
But oh, Jim, I never really loved any one but you, and I never shall."
"I shall never forget you," said he. "And I will give you all you need,
Mary,--you won't have to worry about money." But the girl scarcely heard
him; she was not thinking about money.
"And where will you go?" he asked finally.
"I don't know," said she. "I have no home. Where should I go? I suppose
I'll go back where I came from--back to Albany."
Robert van Rensselaer looked at her; the name Albany brought back a
sudden memory to him. "Well, I declare," he said, "you did not tell me
you came from Albany." He hesitated a moment and then went on, "Perhaps,
maybe, you know a girl there--But I don't know her name," he added, with
a slight laugh.
"Then I'm afraid I couldn't tell you," said the other, answering his
smile. "But I knew very few people there. I never knew any one at all
until after my mother went away some years ago."
"Went away?" asked the other. "I thought you said she died."
"She must have died, for she was very ill," said the girl. "But I don't
know what became of her--she never came back."
The man was gazing at her in surprise. "Never came back?" he echoed; and
then he added, "What was your mother's name?"
"Helen," said she; and he sunk back.
"Ah, it was an awful thing," went on the girl, her voice trembling.
"Poor, dear mother, how hard she worked to take care of me--and how good
she was! She worked herself to death, Jim, that's the truth."
"What was the matter with her?"
"She had consumption," said the girl, and she saw him start. "What's the
matter?" she asked.
"Nothing," said he, "that is--it's just a queer coincidence; but what
was your father's name?"
"I never knew anything about my father," said the girl. "Mother never
told me; but I always suspected that he had not married her--that is--"
She stopped again, for his manner was strange; then, however, she went
on. "I think he was rich," she said, "and very handsome and good. She
gave me a locket with his picture that she said only he would have the
key to open; she had lost the one he gave her."
And again she stopped; a ghastly, ashen pallor had come over the face of
Robert van Rensselaer; he leaned close to her, his eyes, his whole face,
looming large with horror. His hand shook like an autumn leaf as he
stretched it out to her. "A locket! a locket!" he gasped. "My God! Have
you got it?"
"Yes," cried the girl, in astonishment, and she went to the bureau. She
held it to him as he ran toward her, and he took one glance at it and
staggered back like a man struck to the heart with a knife. He gave one
wild, horrible cry, and clutched his hands to his head, and reeled, and
would have fallen.
But Mary had sprung to him in terror. "Jim! Jim!" she cried, "what is
it?" She would have caught him, but he shrunk from her touch as from a
wild beast. "No! no!" he screamed, and crouched in the corner with eyes
of dreadful fear. "No! go back!"
"But, Jim," cried the girl, "what is it? What is the matter?"
The man had sunk down on his knees, shaking convulsively. "O my God!" he
was gasping, "O my God!"
Mary sprang to him again, and flung her arms about him. "Jim! Jim!" she
cried hysterically, "you must tell me what it is--you must--you must!
Do you know who my father was?"
"Yes," he gasped, writhing, "I know--I know!"
"And who was he? Who? Tell me!"
He choked and caught his breath again; but he could not say the words.
As he felt the warmth of her breath and the pressure of her arms about
him, it sent a sudden shudder through his frame, and he flung her away
with a force that sent her reeling across the floor. Then he staggered
to his feet, and with a moan he rushed to the door. He caught one
glimpse of the girl's face, and then fled madly down the steps.
Outside his cab was waiting. He did not see it, and started away; but
the driver shouted to him, and that brought him to his senses for an
instant. He leaped in.
"Drive! drive!" he panted.
"Where to?" asked the man.
"Anywhere," he screamed. "Drive!"
And so they whirled away down the street, van Rensselaer crouching in a
corner, writhing and twisting his hands together.
There was a thought that came over him every few seconds like a spasm
and made him cry out. He could not bear it very long; he shouted to the
driver to stop, and sprang out, and flung him some money. They were in a
deserted portion of the park, and he turned and fled away into the
darkness.