AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH
When Isabel entered the drawing-room, Mr. Dredmond arose to salute her;
but an expression of disappointment swept over his fine face, when he
saw Miss Coolidge instead of Miss Douglas.
Isabel approached him, holding out her white hand, and saying,
cordially:
“This is a pleasure, my lord.”
He flushed at the title.
“You mistake, Miss Coolidge,” he said, smiling, as he shook hands with
her, “I am not lord, or, at least, I should say, that I prefer not to
answer to that title at present. While my grandfather lives I prefer to
be only plain Mr. Dredmond.”
“The title suits you, nevertheless,” she answered, sweeping him an
admiring glance, and then drooping her lashes shyly.
“I hope to be worthy of it when it becomes mine,” he replied, gravely,
and wondering why she did not explain Miss Douglas’ absence.
But it was no part of her plan to do so.
She intended to appropriate the call to herself, and make the most of
her opportunity.
Ever since she had learned that he was heir to an earldom she had
resolved to exert all her powers to win him, and become “my lady,” and
now she set herself to work to charm him.
She began chatting in a lively manner, and possessing much native tact,
and a very; pleasing address, she beguiled him out of half an hour
before he was aware of it.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, starting, when he heard the hall clock
strike, “but I wished to see Miss Douglas. I have a little piece of
property belonging to her, which I desire to return.”
Isabel longed to ask what it was, but dare not.
“Miss Douglas!” she said, with elevated eyebrows, and well-assumed
surprise.
“Yes; I inquired for her when I gave my card to the servant.”
“I am sorry there should have been any mistake, Mr. Dredmond,” replied
Isabel, smiling sweetly, but inwardly raging, “but the servant must have
misunderstood, for he brought your card to me; besides, Miss Douglas is
not with us now, she has left.”
“Left! Indeed, I thought she came abroad with you, and intended to
return with you,” he said, in great surprise, and beginning to think
that all was not right.
“I know nothing as to her intentions, Mr. Dredmond, but we have been
pained to discover that Miss Douglas is not trustworthy, and mamma was
therefore obliged to dispense with her services.”
The lie stung her tongue, but she remembered his evident admiration of
Brownie the night of the opera, and she resolved to disenchant him if
possible.
“Not trustworthy!” he exclaimed, aghast.
He would have staked his own honor against hers.
“It is very painful, is it not, Mr. Dredmond, when she appeared so
innocent and was so beautiful?” asked Isabel, with a sad smile.
He did not reply, and she went on:
“But we found that she had been taking that which did not belong to her,
and, of course, mamma could not longer trust the girls under her
influence.”
The artful girl’s tone and manner expressed the deepest regret, but he
was not deceived by it, although her statement of Brownie’s dishonesty
confounded him.
“Impossible!” he ejaculated, with a pained, startled look, and his mind
went back to that moment when her pure face lay one moment upon his
bosom, and when she had lifted her clear eyes, which were like shining
pools of purest water, so trustingly to his, and now he was told that
she was a thief!
“It does not seem possible, I admit,” Isabel hastened to say, fearing
she had been unwise, and not liking the way he had received her
information. “Mamma and I were infinitely shocked when we discovered it,
but the proof was too incontestable, even without her evident guilt, for
us to doubt.”
“Was she—did she confess her—fault?” he stammered.
“Oh, no! such persons never do that, you know; they always put on any
amount of airs, and make a great show of innocence. But, then, we had
the proof right in our own hands.”
“Would you mind telling me what she has done—what proof you have of her
guilt? Perhaps there may be some misunderstanding to which I could
suggest an explanation,” he said, inwardly writhing with pain at her
words.
“Excuse me; but that would not be right, and I fear that I have been
very unwise to speak of it at all. The girl is gone, and I have no wish
to injure her; I only hope she may repent of her folly, and try to do
better in the future. Please forget what I have said, Mr. Dredmond, and
do not remember it against her if you should ever meet her again. I
assure you it is a very painful topic to me.”
After a few moments more spent in general conversation Adrian arose to
go.
“Can you give me Miss Douglas’ present address?” he asked. “I would
really like to return what belongs to her.”
She would not have told him for a kingdom, had she known, but she
replied, with every appearance of kindness:
“How sorry I am, but really I do not know. Indeed, I was so shocked and
disappointed to discover one so young and lovely so old in guilt, that
it did not occur to me to ask where she was going.”
It nettled him exceedingly to have her talk thus; and could she have
read his heart, she would have seen at once that there was little chance
of her becoming “my lady.”
“Should you discover where she is, will you kindly inform me?” he asked.
“Oh, certainly, with great pleasure,” smiled the fascinating hypocrite.
“I still think you will find there has been some mistake, Miss
Coolidge,” he added gravely. “I knew something of Miss Douglas before
meeting her in this country, and the statement you have made regarding
her seems utterly impossible.”
“You!” exclaimed Isabel, her heart bounding wildly. “Did you know Miss
Douglas in America?”
Perhaps, after all, here was the solution of the mystery of those
beautiful gems, and that card with the names of counts and lords upon
it. Had he had anything to do with it?
Her brain reeled at the thought.
She hung breathless on his reply.
“I knew of her, although I never made her acquaintance, until your
brother introduced me at the opera the other evening.”
She breathed more freely now; he had not given Brownie the gems, that
was evident. He knew nothing of the card.
“I have friends who know her intimately,” he went on, watching her
keenly, to mark the effect of his words. “She was a Philadelphian, and
belonged to a very wealthy and honorable family. About a month
ago—perhaps a little more—death and misfortune suddenly deprived her of
everything. She is very highly educated, as undoubtedly you have
discovered, and before the trouble came upon her, she moved in the very
best circles. I speak of this merely to show you why I believe it
impossible for Miss Douglas to be guilty of what you accuse her. I
trust, also, to hear ere long that you have been mistaken.”
And with this thorn planted in Miss Isabel’s conscience, Adrian Dredmond
bowed himself from her presence, leaving her astounded, confused, and
with a heavy weight of guilt upon her heart.
What had she done?
Accused an innocent girl of theft, and stolen a fortune from her; then
driven her forth in disgrace into an uncharitable world to beg her bread
or starve; for likely as not it would come to that since she had no
recommendation wherewith to gain another place.
She sat for an hour in anything but agreeable meditation.
She did not know what to do, or which way to turn in the matter. Had she
known Miss Douglas’ address, she would have hastened to send the casket
to her, and considered herself lucky to be so well rid of it.
“If only Wilbur did not know about it, mamma and I could hide the
jewels, and deny all knowledge of them,” she murmured, in deep
perplexity.
She finally resolved that she would say nothing to any one concerning
what Adrian Dredmond had told her, but keep the matter to herself for a
few days at least; and if the governess did come to demand the jewels
again, she would tell her mother, and persuade her to give them up
quietly and save further trouble.
“At all events,” she added, with a sigh of relief, as she went to her
own room, “she is gone, and I’ve nothing more to fear from her charms.”
Adrian Dredmond left the Coolidge mansion in a fever of impatience and
indignation.
That any one should accuse Brownie Douglas of the crime of theft was
sufficient to drive him wild.
Did he not know that she had been reared with tenderest care? Had she
not the blood of royalty in her veins? and had he not seen her in all
the brightness and purity of her young life, and been assured of her
integrity by his friend Gordon?
How well he remembered that scene in the vestibule of the Art Gallery,
when she had appeared like some beautiful vision to him, with her
bright, sweet face, and clad so richly, yet simply, in her plain black
silk, protected by the linen ulster. How lovely she had looked, with not
a jewel to deck her, excepting that rich coral clasp at the throat.
Her every look, tone and movement had betokened the true lady, both then
and recently, when he had met her at the opera.
That evening, as he sat in his own room, his valet brought him a note.
It was signed by Wilbur Coolidge, and told him that he would find Miss
Douglas at the “Washington.”
As early the following morning as it would do, Adrian Dredmond presented
himself at the “Washington” and inquired for Miss Douglas.
The clerk turned to his book and looked over the names of the new
arrivals.
Hers was not there!
Mr. Dredmond was in despair.
“Are you sure?” he asked, anxiously.
For reply the clerk placed the book before him, and pointed with his
finger to the list of arrivals for the last two days.
It was even as he had said; her name was not there!
For two days after he returned to the “Washington,” making the same
inquiries and receiving the same answer.
No, Brownie Douglas had not been there, and she never came.
He sought her at every respectable hotel in London, but not a trace of
her could he find.
He haunted the streets where genteel lodgings were advertised, but
without success.
On the Sabbath he walked the streets, peering into every young face that
he met, but those clear, brown eyes never greeted his weary search, and
that lovely face was but a vision in his memory.
Monday he went to Wilbur and told him of Miss Douglas’ strange
disappearance, and his fruitless search for her; and the young man was
nearly distracted himself.
“They have driven her to death, curse them!” he muttered, fiercely, and
he told Adrian the story of the jewels.
His father had returned unexpectedly, and he acquainted him also with
the facts of the case.
A scene ensued which was long remembered by both Isabel and her mother,
while Mr. Coolidge spared no trouble or expense to find the unfortunate
girl.
Wilbur had been so bound up in his own sorrow that he had paid no
attention to the number of the cab in which Brownie had gone away,
neither had he noticed the driver; so that although he sought out and
questioned every cabby that he could find, he could gain no clew to the
missing girl.
Mr. Coolidge advertised and engaged a detective to look her up, while
Adrian Dredmond and Wilbur haunted the streets day and night, but all to
no purpose.
Beautiful Brownie Douglas—abused, insulted, friendless—seemed to have
dropped out of existence as completely as a star when it falls from its
place in the heavens!