It was the 11th of February, warm and bright, in that delightful
climate of California. In the handsome residence of Mrs. Morse, on
California street, reclining in a large arm-chair, sat Marie Colchis.
A book lay upon the floor, where it had fallen from her hand, and she
lay among the cushions with a far-away, dreamy expression in her eyes.
Nearly five weeks had elapsed since she left the Island of Guadalupe
and came with her two friends to San Francisco.
Care and attention and the best of nursing had saved the girl from the
fever which first threatened to make her recovery slow and uncertain.
She had regained her health, her flesh and beauty; her skin was
exceeding fair, but the whiteness was set off by the rich red of her
cheeks and lips.
Recovered from death, among friends who loved her, and expecting every
moment the arrival of the one of all men whom she had ever loved, whom
she adored now, she lay dreaming of the time when she should be clasped
in his arms.
Marie had been informed of everything concerning Junius Cobb. She
knew of his apparent infatuation with Mollie, and of his subsequent
disinclination for the society of either her or Marie Hathaway. Mollie
had told her of the time when he had called her by name in such words
of love and endearment, and Marie believed that his heart was hers yet.
She was informed of his journey to the pole, of his safe arrival there,
and knew that he was expected in San Francisco at any moment.
"Oh that the time would soon come!" she had cried in her heart many
times. "Will he know me? Will he still love me?" she had asked herself;
"and then, if not, I shall die!" she would murmur sadly, while the
beautiful eyes would fill with tears.
"They are coming, Marie! They are coming!" screamed Mollie, rushing
into the room. "They are at the door!"
Marie started from her chair, gasped, and pressed her hand to her
heart. He was at the door! he whom she loved, and from whom she had
been separated for over a hundred years!
[Illustration]
"Remember, Marie, your promise; you are Leona Bennett;" and with this
parting instruction, Mollie shot to the door just in time to be clasped
in the arms of Lester Hathaway, who was leading the way for Cobb.
Hugh had stopped in the hall, hugging the plump little form of Marie
Hathaway.
A moment later Mollie led Cobb toward Marie, who was standing by the
window at the side of the room.
"Leona, this is our friend, Mr. Cobb, of whom you have heard us speak.
Junius, my cousin, Leona Bennett."
Mollie smiled slyly, and gave Marie a knowing look.
Cobb bowed low, and then, looking up, hesitated as if lost in
admiration of the beautiful face before him. Ere a word could be spoken
by either, Lester and Hugh were brought forward and presented.
"You must have thought me rude, Miss Bennett," said Cobb, a little
later, as he and Marie sat near each other, "not to have expressed the
pleasure which I could not but feel at meeting one so beautiful as
yourself."
"I, equally, was unable to more than acknowledge the introduction; for
you know the others were upon us, and we had no time," and she smiled
charmingly upon him, while her eyes seemed to have a longing, craving
expression. "You have had a most remarkable experience in life, Mr.
Cobb," she added, after a pause.
"Yes," sadly. "And many times I have wished my fate had ordained it
otherwise; but now, Miss Bennett, it would be ungallant, and," with a
searching look, "untrue, to say that I do, for I have met you."
"Ah, you are like all men, ever ready with a compliment."
"But it seems as if I was drawn to you by some power I cannot express,"
he continued, looking deep into her eyes.
"Do I remind you of some old friend, some old love?" she banteringly
asked, though it was easy to perceive that she longed for an
affirmative reply.
"That is just what puzzles me, Miss Bennett. It seems as if your face
was familiar, and yet I could never have met you before."
"Are you sure?" She looked up with one of those expressions of
childhood days when she had clung to him and begged him to come again
to her in Duke's Lane.
His eyes scanned her; his thoughts traveled back many years. "How like
Marie Colchis was that expression," he said to himself; yet he gave no
utterance to his thoughts.
"She was dead, dead long years ago!" Then, aloud, he slowly said: "Yes;
I am sure."
"Then, how can you account for the power of attraction which draws you
to me?" she persisted.
"I know not its cause," he smilingly returned, "unless it be that
perhaps all men are similarly attracted. I am but mortal, Miss Bennett,
and consequently cannot resist the loadstone of so much grace and
loveliness."
Thus they met, and thus they talked. He knew her not, nor did she
reveal her identity. She wished to test the man she loved; and why? Ask
a woman!
Two weeks passed, and still they all remained in San Francisco; but the
next day was to see them on their way to Washington; the President had
sent an imperative summons for all to join him at once.
Junius Cobb had seen Marie every one of these days; had walked and
driven and been her escort everywhere. In fact, he had been by her
side during every moment that propriety would allow. A new life seemed
opened to him; he laughed and chatted like the gayest; he was witty and
bright, and the old expression of sorrow had vanished from his face.
He seemed to live in her smiles, to be supremely happy in her presence.
He was in love; this time he knew it. Did he ever think of little Marie
Colchis? Yes, often and often, and the divinity he now worshiped seemed
to him as if risen from the soul of her, and that in loving the former
he still maintained his allegiance to the latter. Leona, to him, was
his old love Marie. He could not explain the semblance, yet he saw that
it existed. He loved Leona Bennett; he thought of Marie Colchis.
Sitting by her side that evening, in the small, cozy library, whither
he had gently led her, and whither she had gladly, willingly gone, he
quietly said, "Miss Bennett, you return to Washington to-morrow?"
Turning her large blue eyes upon him, she asked, "And do you not go,
too, Mr. Cobb?"
"It all depends," he answered, nervously.
"Why, I thought it was all settled. Mollie told me that you were to go.
Have you changed your mind, Mr. Cobb?"
"I dislike to return to Washington," he continued, not heeding her
question, "unless I can do so with a lighter heart than I took away
with me when I left."
"You ought to go there with the greatest pleasure. Your name is famous
throughout the world," and she looked proudly upon him; proud of the
man she loved.
"But fame is not all that man craves," he returned.
"What more can man desire than a name great to the world; a name
honored, respected and loved?" Her eyes had dropped, while his were
fastened upon her with love intense.
"Love." He whispered the word lowly and sweetly in her ear as he bent
over her drooping form.
Raising her eyes, now full of all that deep love of her aching, patient
heart, she met his ardent gaze.
"And can you not have that?" she asked, in tones so low as to be almost
inaudible.
"Miss Bennett," he sadly returned, "mine is a peculiar position. Listen
but a moment, and let me tell you my history."
Junius Cobb then narrated his meeting with Marie Colchis; how he had
loved her, but as a child; how he had promised to be her husband, and
how he had forsaken her to gratify his ambition. He told her how this
love of his little Marie had come to him in all its intensity since
his return to life, yet he knew that she was lost to him forever. He
informed her of his supposed love for Mollie Craft, and of his sudden
discovery that his heart could never be given to her. He related the
vision he had wherein Marie had been led to him by an angel. And during
all this recital his listener had sat, with tears in her eyes, but a
holy feeling of adoration for the man who had remembered her with such
love. It was only by a supreme effort that she refrained from declaring
herself and falling into the arms of this noble man.
"Miss Bennett--Leona," gently and slowly; "since my eyes have beheld
you, I have seen but one form, have known but one name--Marie Colchis.
Yours is the face, the voice, the grace and loveliness that would have
been hers at your age. It seems that in your form reposes her soul;
that through your eyes beams her sweet and loving nature. Never could
two beings be more alike."
As he spoke the words, Marie's overflowing heart gave vent to its
fullness in a deep sob.
"I know, Leona," proceeded Cobb, as he noticed her agitation, "that
you feel sad at the recital of my story; your great heart--her
heart--responds in sympathy to the sufferings of others. I feel that
the vision of her coming has been realized; that though departed from
this earth and among the angels in heaven, she has sent her soul,
her form, her mortal being, back again to earth that I might meet my
just reward--life or death. Marie Colchis--for by that name are you
henceforth in my heart--I love you, I adore you. Is it to be life or
death?"
Amid the sobs which came from her heart, she asked: "And will I always
be Marie Colchis to you, Junius? Will you always bear me the love you
profess for that other?"
"Yes; a thousand times yes," he cried, as he arose and took her hand
in his. "As my life, will I love you; as my life do I now adore you. O
Marie, my darling, my own. Will you give me life? Can you love me in
return, for her sake?" pleadingly, as he gently turned the beautiful
face toward him and looked into her tear-bedimmed eyes.
Her heart was overflowing; the flood-gates of her love, so long closed
and barred, were about to break asunder; her soul had passed out into
his keeping. With a passionate cry, she threw her arms about him, and
wept tears of joy. Gently he drew her closer to him, and kissed her
lips; kissed away the tear-drops in her eyes.
"You love me, my own, my darling!" he cried. "Tell me that you do."
"O Junius; as I love my God!" Again the tears of joy and happiness
flowed fast and furious from her eyes.
"And you reproach me not that I see in you my former love?"
"No. No more is my name Leona Bennett. To you, my own, my noble heart,
it shall ever be Marie Colchis. By that name alone shall you henceforth
know me, love me, and be my husband." Thus she spoke the truth, yet
kept the promise she had made.