ENID CHICHESTER.
As Ralph withdrew from the presence of those heart-broken women, and was
swiftly passing along the narrow corridor to his own apartment, he ran
against a fairy form.
She was half enveloped in a cloud of gauzy, spotless lace and dainty
ribbons, which she carried in her arms.
With a startled cry, she staggered and would have fallen, had not his
quickly outstretched hand caught and upheld her.
Ralph was rewarded by a sweet “thank you,” and a glimpse of a pair of
lovely purple-black eyes, which for a moment were roguishly upturned to
his, and then vailed beneath their long silken fringes, which drooped
low upon her fair, soft cheek.
“I beg your pardon, lady,” said he, gallantly, as he noted her exceeding
beauty. “It was very awkward in me to be so heedless.”
“No harm done, sir, except the tumbling of my laces a little. And that
my dear maid can easily remedy,” replied the girl, in clear, bell-like
tones, while a deeper color suffused her face, as she noticed the look
of ardent admiration.
Her manner was that of a high-bred lady, while her pure English accent
showed her to be of that origin.
“May I ask is this in honor of the bridal to-night?” he cunningly asked,
as he touched the finery in her arms.
“Yes,” and she laughed a little gleeful laugh; then added, “We do not
often have an opportunity to grace a wedding here, so all are striving
to look their sweetest and best to-night.”
“You say we; are there more young ladies like yourself here?”
“Yes, oh, yes,” with a deep sigh and a look of sadness. “There are
seven, besides the poor young lady who was brought here last evening,
and who is to be forced into a marriage to-night.”
“How do you know that the lady is opposed to the union?” he asked,
flushing deeply.
“Oh, we found it out, through Nina, who is my maid, and whom I lent to
wait upon this unfortunate lady. She says she is the loveliest person
she has ever seen, and my faithful girl sobbed like a child while
telling me of it.”
“Does she not even except her fair mistress, when she lavishes so much
praise upon the captive?” asked Ralph, with a gaze she could not
misinterpret.
“Ah! but Nina loves me, and besides, I do not allow her to flatter!”
replied the little lady, with an air of reserved dignity.
“I beg pardon again. I realize that I am very unfortunate to-day in my
words, as well as my motions. But do you know the gentleman whom this
fair young girl is to wed?”
“No, but I think him a heartless wretch!” she returned, with blazing
cheeks and flashing eyes, while her little foot came down with a decided
pat upon the floor.
“Why so, my little friend?”
“If I were a man do you think I would wish to marry a girl who scorned
my love? If it be for revenge that he wishes to wed her, and darken
forever her bright young life, why, he is more vile than aught else in
the world. But to profess to love and wed one who loathed me, my pride
would never let me bow so low as that!”
“But,” urged Ralph, uneasily, “look at the case in a different light.
Suppose this man had taken a solemn oath that this lovely being should
be his wife, what then?”
This little dark-eyed lady was showing him up in colors, altogether too
truthful to be agreeable, though he could but admire her for her spirit
and honesty, and already he felt his passion for Dora beginning to cool
beneath the charms of the more brilliant, yet not more lovely, girl by
his side.
“I should say,” she replied, in answer to his question, “that his oath
was a most unworthy one, and were better broken than kept. But excuse
me. I forget that I am talking very plainly to an entire stranger,” and
with a haughty little bow she was turning away when his voice arrested
her.
“Stay, please, and I will introduce myself according to rule. I should
have done so before, but my awkwardness in obstructing your path has put
to flight all my ideas of etiquette. I am Ralph Moulton, at your
service.”
He bowed low and gracefully before her as he spoke, for, in spite of her
surroundings, he recognized her as a lady noble and pure. Then he added,
“Will you kindly return the favor?”
“Certainly. My name is Enid Chichester.”
“And are you and your companions retained as captives here? But I need
not ask, for doubtless you are.”
“Yes. I have not seen my bright, beautiful home for two weary years.”
Two sparkling drops struggled up from the liquid depths of her lovely
eyes, and rolled like gems over her flushed cheeks, hiding themselves
within the folds of the fleecy robes in her hands.
A strange expression gleamed within Ralph Moulton’s eyes as he gazed
upon her emotion. One might interpret it thus:
If he had but seen this lovely, friendless little fairy before he had
gone to such extremes with Dora, he thought he could have found all the
consolation he wished in her smile.
With a sigh, half of regret for himself, and the other half of sympathy
for her, Ralph Moulton asked, in a low tone:
“Would you accept freedom, Miss Chichester, could it be obtained for
you?”
“Would I accept it? Oh, Heaven grant me but this one boon, and no
sacrifice would be too great to testify my gratitude!”
“My friend,” he whispered, bending nearer, so that his own dark locks
mingled with hers. “Listen. Prepare yourself for the change, and your
wish shall be gratified. I pledge you my word that it shall be so.”
“Will you? Oh, thanks, thanks!”
She dropped her laces all in a heap upon the floor, and clasping her
hands impulsively around his arm, bowed her dainty head, and sobbed like
a child.
Ralph Moulton quivered in every nerve beneath her touch, and the color
mounted hotly to his brow. He thought to clasp her in his arms and
comfort her, dry her tears, and win back her smile.
But he dared not do it; from his very soul he respected this pure girl,
and felt himself unworthy even to touch her robes. If he had not made
that rash vow, or even if he had not had this last interview with Dora,
all would be well.
He began to feel as if the net he had spread for others was becoming
entangled about himself, and the chains which he had prepared for our
heroine were beginning to gall him severely.
Cupid was busy at work, but—would he win?
Enid Chichester wept unrestrainedly for a few moments. The hope was so
unexpected, she had schooled her heart so long to bear her lot, that
this sudden rift in the clouds, revealing the brightness beyond, was too
dazzling to her sorrow-shadowed soul, wholly overpowering her.
At last she started suddenly, and said, in a quivering, grateful voice:
“Oh, Mr. Moulton! it was so unexpected I could not help it, and you have
my deepest gratitude, even though you should not succeed.”
The look which she shot at him contained something stronger than mere
gratitude.
“I am a stranger to you, Miss Chichester. Are you sure that you can
trust yourself to me. I fear you look upon me as being really better
than I am,” he said, searching her face closely, and with a rather
remorseful tone.
“I know I can,” she answered, confidently.
“But should I happen to do something, between this and the time that I
could effect your escape, that seemed to you most unworthy—that would
merit perhaps your sternest disapprobation—what then?”
She looked at him for a moment, with a puzzled air, then smilingly
replied:
“If you should—if I should be very, very much displeased with you for
anything you might do, still I should feel that there was some good in
you—that you were noble and kind at heart—and I should not fear to trust
you.”
“I thank you, and bless you for your words. I feel them more deeply than
I can express,” returned Ralph, the tears actually springing to his eyes
at so much trust and confidence.
He pressed her little hand reverently, and hearing footsteps
approaching, he hastily left her, saying he would see her again, and
passed on to his room, sadder and more dissatisfied with himself than he
had ever been in his life.
He was not all bad, as she had said. There was a germ of truth and
goodness within his heart which, if nourished and tended in the sunshine
of purity and love, might yet bloom with beauty and fragrance.