Ida sunk on her knees before him.
"Come," he said; "you must go quietly with me."
"Inhuman monster!" moaned Ida.
"Come. This is no time to exchange compliments," he said. "We have
parleyed here too long already."
His grasp tightened on the slender wrist, but she did not seem to heed
the pain of it.
"I can not, I will not go with you!" she panted.
A taunting laugh answered her. He was dragging her by main force down
the path, when the figure of a man suddenly sprung before him.
"You!" cried Royal Ainsley, furiously.
"Yes, it is I!" returned Eugene Mallard, sternly. "I am just in time,
it appears, to save my--this lady from you."
At the sight of Eugene, Ida flung up her hands with a wild cry, and
sunk at his feet unconscious. Royal Ainsley sprung forward to catch her
in his arms, but Eugene dashed up to him.
"Lay one hand on her at your peril!" he commanded.
"And who shall prevent me, when she is my wife?" sneered Royal Ainsley.
"She is _not_ your wife!" cried Eugene Mallard, his face darkening;
"and here and now, I propose to avenge the wrongs you have done her.
There will be a duel to the death between us! I have two pistols in my
pocket, you shall take one and defend yourself, I will use the other."
Royal Ainsley sprung forward. Quick as a flash he drew something from
his vest-pocket. It was a sharp steel dagger which he always carried.
He made a lunge forward, but his foot slipped, and he fell to the earth
in mortal pain. The dagger he had intended to plunge into the body of
his cousin had been the cause of his own death.
In an instant Eugene was bending over him.
"It is too late!" gasped the miserable man--"it is all over with me
now. I am about to pass in my checks. Don't you think so?"
"Yes," said Eugene; "you are mortally wounded, I can see that. Heaven
forgive you for the sins you have committed!"
Eugene carried Ida to her own room, thanking Heaven that he had met no
one. No one would know of her presence in the grounds.
Then he quickly summoned the servants.
Royal Ainsley, lying there with his face upturned to the sunlight and
his hand clutching the fatal dagger, told its own story.
As soon as Ida was able to see him Eugene sent for her to come to the
library.
When she received the summons, the poor soul, white as death, fell upon
her knees.
"He is going to denounce me for my sin, and for not telling him when I
found it out," she said.
Could she face him, now that he knew all?
As she knelt there she caught a glimpse of herself in the great mirror
opposite.
Again the girl knocked at the door.
"Tell your master that I will see him to-morrow," she whispered in a
strained, strange voice; and the girl went away.
Strange fancies seemed to throng through her brain.
Royal Ainsley was dead, she had heard them say; and she fancied that
her child was dead, too.
And now the man she loved had sent for her to turn her from the house,
and she would never see him again.
Then she thought of the brook, so deep, so wide, that struggled on to
meet the sea.
Yes, she would go there where some of the happiest, ay, and some of
the most sorrowful moments of her life had been spent. The deep waters
would carry her away on their bosom.
At intervals the girl came to the door to inquire if she wanted
anything. The answer was always the same--"No."
She never knew how the long hours passed; she was like one in a dream.
At last night came. She waited until the house was dark and still.
There was silence in the hall. All the lights were out, every one was
asleep, and the troubles of the day were blotted out.
She raised the long French window that opened out onto the lawn and
stepped out into the garden.
As she passed the room in which Eugene Mallard was quietly sleeping,
she knelt and laid her cold white lips on the threshold his feet would
press.
How cruelly Heaven had punished her, because in those other days she
had longed to be a lady, like the heroines she had read of in the great
world of beauty and fashion.
She reached the brook and knelt down beside it. The moon threw a
silvery light upon it, and in its song she seemed to hear Eugene's
voice mingled with that of the little child she had lost.
"I am coming to you, little baby!" she muttered below her breath. Then
aloud, she said: "Good-bye, Eugene--good-bye forever!"
Suddenly a pair of strong arms clasped her, and Eugene's voice
whispered:
"Not good-bye, my darling!"
Only the stars and the moonlight and the rippling waters of the brook
heard what he said--how he pleaded with her to live only for him and
her little child.
Ida could not believe the great happiness that had suddenly fallen upon
her like a mantle from God's hands.
They talked by the brook-side for long hours. The next day the master
and mistress of the great mansion went away.
When they reached New York, another ceremony was performed, which made
Ida Eugene Mallard's wife until death should part them.
Then they quietly went and obtained the little child, whom both
idolized, and went abroad, where they remained for years.
No one learned the strange romance of the fair young girl whom Eugene
Mallard worshipped so fondly.
When they returned to their home, years after, with a lovely, dark-eyed
little girl and a sturdy, blue-eyed boy, no one guessed but that they
were Eugene Mallard's children.
While they had been abroad they read of the marriage of Hildegarde
Cramer to Philip Ravenswood, the noble young man who had loved her ever
since they had first met on the Newport sands.
The same paper also brought the intelligence of the engagement of
Arthur Hollis and pretty Dora Staples, and the sad ending, in a
railroad accident, of beautiful, hapless Vivian Deane and her maid Nora.
Eugene passed the paper to his wife, and Ida read it, making no
comments. But after awhile, as though the subject weighed heavily on
her mind, she went up to Eugene, and laid her soft white arms round his
neck, and whispered:
"Does the knowledge of Hildegarde's marriage bring you any regrets,
Eugene?"
"No, my darling!" he cried, clasping her in his strong arms. "For all
the love of my heart is yours now, and--and--our children's."
"I have often wanted to ask you, Eugene," she murmured, with her face
hidden on his breast, "if the story of my past were known, how would
people judge me? Would the world say, 'Ida May had sinned'?"
Let us hope all our readers will join heartily in his answer--"No."
THE END.
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GUY BOOTHBY
The Kidnapped President
A Prince of Swindlers
The Mystery of the Clasped Hands
H. RIDER HAGGARD
Cleopatra
King Solomon's Mines
She
The Witches' Head
The World's Desire
LOUIS TRACY
The Jewel of Death
A Japanese Revenge
FRED M. WHITE
Mystery of the Crimson Blind
J. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
Mysterious Mr. Sabin
MAX PEMBERTON
The Shadow on the Sea
F. DU BOISGOBEY
The Severed Hand
LAURA JEAN LIBBEY
Kidnapped at the Altar
Gladiola's Two Lovers
A Bride for a Day
Aleta's Terrible Secret
The Romance of Enola
A Handsome Engineer's Flirtation
Was She Sweetheart or Wife
Della's Handsome Lover
Flora Garland's Courtship
My Sweetheart Idabell
Pretty Madcap Dorothy
The Loan of a Lover
A Fatal Elopement
The Girl He Forsook
Which Loved Her Best
A Dangerous Flirtation
Garnetta, the Silver King's Daughter
Flora Temple
Pretty Rose Hall
Cora, the Pet of the Regiment
Jolly Sally Pendleton
MARIE CORELLI
Vendetta
A Romance of Two Worlds
CHARLES GARVICE
She Loved Him
The Marquis
A Wasted Love
Her Ransom
AUGUSTA EVANS
St. Elmo
Inez
MRS. SOUTHWORTH
Ishmael
Self-Raised
The Missing Bride
India
CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME
Thorns and Orange Blossoms
A Dark Marriage Morn
Dora Thorne
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.