Cinthia had never spent such an unhappy day in the whole of her young
life. She could not realize that only yesterday she had been railing at
the monotony of existence.
It was only twenty-four hours later, and a tragedy of woe had
overwhelmed her in its grim embrace.
Only yesterday she had been planning, and hoping, and wishing for
some way to know Arthur Varian better, and now he was won, now he was
her promised husband; and through all the bitterness of her father’s
cruelty, that thought made glad her warm heart.
She had shed little rivers of tears, she had sulked at her father and
aunt, she had refused to eat her dinner, and pouted among the pillows
all day long; but through it all ran one thrilling thought, Arthur was
coming to take her away to-night. He had promised, and she knew he
would keep his word.
When her aunt went down about her household duties, she laughed to
herself at the thought of outwitting those two--her cold-hearted aunt
and her cruel father. The thought of their surprise, when they should
find her gone in the morning was pure delight.
“There he goes now. I wish he would go and stay forever!” she cried,
petulantly, as she heard the gate-latch click, and springing to the
window, saw her father walking away into the gloomy distance.
She sat down and watched him out of sight, adding:
“He is very handsome and noble looking, and if he had treated me
better, I should have learned to love him well. But now I hate and fear
him, and I would die before I would go with him to-morrow. Dear, dear
Arthur, I hope nothing will prevent him from taking me away to-night.”
And while she was moping, her aunt came up with a magnificent bunch of
roses, saying kindly:
“Cheer up now, Cinthy! Here’s a splendid big nosegay for you, and a box
of French candy. I ’spose your pa sent it, because he went down into
the town a while ago, and said he’d get you a present.”
“I don’t want any of his presents! Take them away!” Cinthia answered,
angrily.
“Don’t be a little fool, Cinthy. I’m getting out of patience with
your airs,” Mrs. Flint returned, severely, putting down the gifts and
slamming the door as she stalked out.
Cinthia loved flowers dearly, and the scent of the roses wooed her to
caress them presently, burying her face in the fragrant red and white
beauties.
A note hidden among them scratched the tip of her nose, and she drew it
out with a cry of wonder.
It was from Arthur Varian, and ran thus:
“I have thought it all over, darling, and I think the only way for
us is to elope to Washington to-night and be married. I do not like
to steal a man’s daughter away from him this way, but his obstinacy
leaves us no other hope, and as there is really no reason to prevent
our marrying, I hope he will soon be reconciled. No doubt, mother
will help us to bring him around afterward, she is so very clever.
And I shall not let her into the secret of to-night, so that he can
not accuse her of connivance in our plans. I will be waiting near
your house with a carriage at twelve o’clock to-night, and you must
slip out and join me. Then it is only two miles to the station, and
away we go on the midnight train to Washington. Keep up your courage,
my sweet love, for we are going to be the happiest pair in the world.
“ARTHUR.”
Cinthia refused to go down to supper, and made a meal of sweetmeats.
The hours between dark and midnight seemed endless. She heard her aunt
retire to her room at an early hour, and her father later on. The
house was wrapped for an hour in profound silence, then she heard the
hall-clock chiming twelve.
Cinthia was all ready, even to her hat and jacket, her face pale with
eagerness, her heart throbbing wildly. She stepped to the door and
turned the knob. Horrors! it did not yield to her touch. They had
suspected her and locked her into the room.
An impulse came to her to shriek aloud in her wrath and defiance,
and to try and batter down the door and escape; but a timely thought
restrained her, and she drew back from the temptation, her eyes flaming
luridly, her temper raging.
“They shall not baffle us, the cunning wretches! Arthur, my love, I
am coming to you, though the whole world oppose!” she cried, wildly,
rushing to the window and throwing up the sash.
It had been snowing steadily for hours, though she did not know it. As
she leaned out into the darkness a great gust of wind and big swirling
flakes of snow stormed into the room, blowing out the light and
clasping her in a cold embrace.