I KNOW NO COMFORT!
Aunt Constance, hovering near, was listening attentively to every word,
but neither seemed to mind her gentle presence, and Maisie answered
firmly, with kindling blushes:
“It is as true as heaven. I fancy that my heart went out to you that
day in the library, where, hidden behind the curtain, I heard you take
my part so nobly against Delmar’s selfish resolve to leave me alone on
my wedding-day. I did not deserve it, for I had scorned and flaunted
you, but I saw you then in a new light, and you caught my love in its
rebound from an unworthy object. It is yours still, that unchanging
love, and it will never swerve from you, even if you let me go from
you this hour, as I have prayed you, and never see your face on earth
again.”
Aunt Constance could not help from weeping. The girl’s love and despair
went to her heart.
She thought it was about time for her to speak.
“Seems to me, you’re acting sort of stupid, Byrd,” she sobbed,
following up the reproach by adding: “It seems plain enough that
Maisie and Delmar can’t never live together as husband and wife
when they don’t want to, anyway, and, besides, there’s Josephine to
be considered, too, poor thing, though she does not actually deserve
it. But it seems to me you ought to find it easy enough to get Maisie
a divorce over at home, seeing as Delmar was in such haste to marry
another while she was alive.”
“Yes, yes, it must surely be easy. Oh, Aunt Constance, how good you
are to take my part,” sobbed Maisie, with boundless gratitude, and so
between them they brought Byrd to the point of considering the question.
But he did not fail to point out to her the bitter ordeal to be endured
in the prosecution of a suit for divorce.
“You would have to return to the States and sue Delmar for bigamy,
you know. I fancy you would gain your case, but you would find the
notoriety painful,” he said, and waited in cruel suspense for her
answer.
It meant so much to him, to them all--her decision now--that his face
grew whiter and his heart almost stopped its beating, while he listened
for the words she was about to speak.
A shudder ran over the beautiful form, and she lifted her lovely eyes
to him with the love she did not try to conceal, although she was
Delmar’s wife. What did it matter to her, that empty tie! She would
break it or perish trying.
She said, low and clearly:
“Of course I understand all that, but there can be no drawing back for
me with a prospect of happiness at the end of the pain. Or would you,”
flushing sensitively, “shrink from wedding your brother’s divorced
wife?”
“Can you ask me that?” he said with a glance of tender reproach that
made her heart leap for joy.
“Then I shall go home and sue for the divorce,” she said firmly. “Can
you not see that it is the only way out of the trouble? There is
Delmar’s happiness to be considered, you know.”
“He does not deserve the least consideration at your hands,” Byrd
returned bitterly, remembering all his brother’s indifference to Maisie.
She smiled a little and confessed frankly that she was planning more
for her own happiness than any one else’s whatever, but she knew that
in securing her own she could best win the same for the others.
“I am not so sure of Josephine,” Byrd said thoughtfully. “I fear she
will care but little for Delmar when he is stripped of your millions.
She has confessed to me that she would never have married him if he had
remained poor.”
“Then I will cheerfully divide my fortune with Delmar to secure his
happiness,” Maisie answered generously.
“You shall not do yourself such an injustice. My brother and his wife
have already squandered many thousands of your money, and if you will
excuse them for that, since it was my fault in giving it to Delmar, you
will have done more than they could expect at your hands,” exclaimed
Byrd.
She glanced at him half-reproachfully, replying:
“But Delmar must not be left penniless or Josephine will desert him and
spoil his life.”
They looked at her in wonder at her generous nature after all she had
borne from the two whose happiness she was struggling bravely to secure.
Aunt Constance could not help sobbing in distress at Maisie’s reference
to Delmar’s life. She dreaded in her heart that it would be too short
for any one to spoil now, the end too close at hand.
But Byrd said quickly:
“Dear aunt, do not sob so hopelessly. I will manage everything for
Delmar’s good. You know I intended to dower Josephine richly on her
marriage to Delmar, but on his accession to Maisie’s money it did not
seem necessary, but I will settle a sum of money on Josephine when she
marries Delmar again, though, were it not for his infatuation for the
heartless jade, I should be glad to have him quit of her forever.”
Aunt Constance sighed with a sort of relief and turned to the door,
saying:
“I will go and tell them your plans for their happiness. They must be
feeling very sad and troubled.”
“Yes, tell them all,” assented Byrd, glad to be spared the unwelcome
task, and for a few moments they sat silently waiting, too sad at heart
to find words to comfort each other.
Suddenly the door was opened again and Mrs. French darted in with a
pale, shocked face.
“You could never believe what Delmar has done!” she panted wildly,
continuing her tale before either could interpose a question.
“He has flared up at Josephine with that fiery temper of his and sent
her away, vowing he will have no more to do with her, but that he will
take back his own legal wife again. And, Maisie, darling, he is praying
you to come to him at once.”