It was enough to blow out the faint spark of Berry’s life, the sudden
shock of seeing her lover, and hearing those startling words from his
lips, but, happily, “joy never kills.”
Now at the sight of his handsome face that she had never expected
to see again in life, above all at the sound of his musical voice,
uttering words she had not dared to fancy on his lips, such a wave of
rapturous emotion thrilled Berry from head to foot, that she could
not utter a sound. Her only response to her lover’s ardent words was
a sudden rain of blissful tears that relieved the tension of her
surcharged heart.
With his own soft handkerchief Charley Bonair wiped away those shining
drops, murmuring fond words, quite heedless of the gaping Mrs. Cline,
who looked and listened, thinking to herself:
“Well, I never! Has the man gone clean daft, promising to marry this
poor little actress, when the folks up at the mansion say that he’s
engaged to that grand, rich New York heiress, Miss Montague!”
As she had known him from his boyhood, and did not stand at all in awe
of him, she cried, in righteous indignation:
“For shame, Mr. Charley, trying to flirt with that poor little sick
girl, that don’t know you as well as I do, or she would not listen to
your foolishness! Get out of here, now, do, before you scare my patient
into fits!”
At this the happy young fellow, remembering her presence for the
first time, got up deliberately from his knees, where he was kneeling
by Berry, and marching to Mrs. Cline, took her, playfully, by the
shoulders, and put her outside the door, saying gayly:
“You don’t understand a word of this, of course, but I will explain it
all to your satisfaction if you will stay out here till I get an answer
to my proposal, will you?” pleadingly.
“I--I--yes, I suppose I must, if you order me to, Mr. Charley, but I
don’t know what the doctor, and the nurse, and Miss Montague, too, will
say to all this goings on, sir, especially if the poor young girl gets
a relapse from excitement,” she complained.
“She will not get a relapse. Happiness never killed anybody!” cried the
young man, beaming happily upon her, as he shut her outside, and went
back to the blushing, trembling little girl.
“My darling, please forgive me for taking you by storm this way, but
I never had any patience in my life, and how could I have now, when I
have the sweetest story in the world to tell you? Listen, Berry, my
dearest: I have loved you and you alone, since the first moment I saw
your lovely face shining down on me from the cottage window framed in
morning-glory vines. From that moment your face has been the star of
my life’s horizon, and your sweet love song has haunted many a dream.
But I was betrothed to another, a proud, rich girl, my equal in birth
and position, so at first I did not think of breaking my vow. Then you
faded from my life, and I feared you were dead until I saw you on the
boards of the theater that night, in my own home, a very queen of love
and beauty. I knew you again in a moment. My little Berry could not
hide from me under the pseudonym of Vera Vane.”
Berry’s soft cheeks dimpled into a smile at that, and taking her small
hand, he held it tightly clasped in a warm, sweet pressure, while he
continued:
“That very night I had come home from a long yachting trip, trying to
forget you, and had made up my mind to settle down and make everybody
but myself happy by marrying Rosalind. But my presence was as yet
unknown to my people, and when I saw you again, Berry, and knew that
you lived, more sweet and lovely than ever, I could not bear the
thought of my betrothed. I stole away when the play was over and went
out into the grounds to brood over my trouble. While I smoked a cigar,
hidden on a seat in some shrubberies, you came by and stopped and
talked to yourself until the old fortune teller came to upbraid you for
not keeping your engagement promptly. Do you remember it, Berry?”
“Ah, yes, yes--and you were there close by?” she breathed, in wonder.
“Yes, almost close enough to touch you: I was tempted, indeed, to rush
to you and clasp you to my heart, but I had not forgotten the night I
kissed you when you flung my roses in my face and scratched me with the
sharp thorns; I did not care to risk such vixenish resentment again,
although that kiss, believe me, was worth all I suffered for it.”
She listened, eagerly, to every word, flushing and paling, delicately
as a rose, her large, dilated brown eyes drinking in every tender word.
Charley Bonair thought, in spite of her thinness, that she was as
lovely as a dream. Suffering had only refined her beauty.
She had scarcely a word to say; she only listened, drinking in his
voice like heavenly music, and he, gazing at her and stroking her
little hand, went on with his explanations, saying:
“I heard all you and the old woman were saying, and was vastly amazed
at your credulity in believing her silly yarns. Well, soon after you
left, I started down to see Zilla, and heard your cries of terror, so
by hurrying my pace I was able to get there in time to save you from
being quite killed by the angry brute. I suppose Mrs. Cline has told
you everything that happened afterward, as far as she knew.”
She murmured yes, and he added joyously:
“What she did not know, was that as soon as I found out you would live,
I resolved to break my engagement with Rosalind, if you would forgive
the past and have me. I have carried out my intentions, and am free to
offer you my heart and my name. Can you love me, little girl, in spite
of my glaring faults, and take me in hand to reform me?”
His tender eyes shone love into hers, and he looked as though he
meditated kissing her at any moment. Berry felt dizzy all at once, with
a strange feeling, as if she were floating in air on rosy clouds of
bliss.
“Oh, Berry, why don’t you speak? Are you angry with me still? Will you
not forgive and love me?” cried her ardent lover, with dawning anxiety,
for he felt her little hand growing chill and fluttering like a bird
in his clasp.
She half sobbed:
“Oh, oh, I am almost afraid!”
“Afraid, my darling--of what, pray?”
“To--marry--you, Mr. Bonair! Because you are all so rich and
grand--your people, you know, and they might not care for you to marry
simple little me, instead of the proud heiress, Rosalind!” she panted
questioningly, while blushes came and went deliciously on her thin
cheeks.
Charley Bonair looked sober for a moment, then laughed again.
“Ah! now I am up against the real thing!” he exclaimed. “It is quite
true, Berry, darling, that they may object a little at first, but when
they see how sweet and charming you are, dad and my pretty sisters will
surely come around and love you almost as well as I do. Of course they
would make no end of a bother if I asked their leave first, but I don’t
mean to do it, you see! We’ll get married first, my angel, and announce
it afterward. I can take the Clines into the secret, and we could be
married here to-morrow, in this room, if you will consent, Berry.”
“Oh, I am afraid, afraid!” she moaned nervously.
“Listen to me, Berry. Are you afraid that dad will cut us off with a
shilling if I marry you? Do you object to being a poor man’s bride?”
her lover demanded, rather sternly, in his impatience.
“Oh, no, no! Mr. Bonair--I----”
“Call me, Charley,” he interrupted imploringly.
“Charley, then! I’ve always been poor, you know, and I shouldn’t mind
it all with you, dear, if--if--you are sure you will never repent and
be sorry I married you.”
“You will marry me, then, darling?” He bent and took the kiss he was
longing for. “Bless you, dear, your Charley will never repent he won
such a prize! It may be you that will be sorry, for I have got a hard
name, you know, and need reforming,” he said truthfully.
“I will love you so, my Charley, it will make a better man of you!”
she cried tenderly, giving way to the rapture of her happy love at
last. Then, as a light tap sounded on the door: “Oh, dear, we were
quite forgetting poor Mrs. Cline, dearest. Do let her in, and explain
everything, or she will think this interview very improper.”