Sir Paul Verdayne reached Lucerne on the afternoon of the next day. He
was as eager as a boy for the reunion with his son. How he loved the
Boy--his Boy--the living embodiment of a love that seemed to him greater
than any other love the world had ever known.
The storm had ceased and in the brilliancy of the afternoon sunshine
little trace of the fury of the night could be seen. Nature smiled
radiantly through the tear-drops still glistening on tree and shrub and
flower, like some capricious coquette defying the world to prove that
she had ever been sad.
To Sir Paul, the place was hallowed with memories of his Queen, and his
heart and soul were full of her as he left the train. At the station
Vasili awaited him with the news of the double tragedy that had
horrified Lucerne.
In that moment, Sir Paul's heart broke. He grasped at the faithful
servitor for a support the old man was scarce able to give. He looked up
into the pitying face, grown old and worn in the service of the young
King and his heart thrilled, as it ever thrilled, at the sight of the
long, cruel scar he remembered so well--the scar which the Kalmuck had
received in the service of his Queen, long years before.
Sir Paul loved Vasili for that--loved him even more for the service he
had done the world when he choked to death the royal murderer of his
Queen, on the fatal night of that tragedy so cruelly alive in his
memory. He looked again at the scar on the swarthy face, and yet he knew
it was as nothing to the scar made in the old man's heart that day.
In some way--they never knew how--they managed to reach the scene of the
tragedy, and Sir Paul, at his urgent request, was left alone with the
body of his son.
Oh, God! Could he bear this last blow--and live?
After a time, when reason began to re-assert itself, he searched and
found the letters that had told the Boy-king the story of his birth. Was
there no word at all for him--his father?--save the brief telegram he
had received the night before?
Ah, yes! here was a note. His Boy had thought of him, then, even at the
last. He read it eagerly.
"Father--dear Father--you who alone of all the world can
understand--forgive and pity your son who has found the cross too
heavy--the crown too thorny--to bear! I go to join my unhappy
mother across the river that men call death--and there together we
shall await the coming of the husband and father we could neither
of us claim in this miserable, gray old world. Father Paul--dearest
and best and truest of fathers, your Boy has learned with you the
cost of love, and has gladly paid the price--'sorrow and death!'"
He bent again over the cold form, he pushed aside the clustering curls,
and kissed again and again, with all the fervor and pain of a lifetime's
repression, the white marble face of his son.
And a few words of that little note rang in his ears
unceasingly--"dearest, and best, and _truest_ of fathers!" _Truest of
fathers_! Ah, yes! The Boy--his Boy--had understood!
And the scalding tears came that were his one salvation, for they washed
away for a time some of the deadly ache from his bereaved heart.
* * * * *
When the force of his outburst was spent, Sir Paul Verdayne mastered
himself resolutely. There was much to be done. It was indeed a double
torture to find such an affliction here, of all places under Heaven, but
he told himself that his Queen would have him brave and strong, and
master his grief as an English gentleman should. And her wishes were
still, as they had ever been, the guide of his every thought and action.
One thing he was determined upon. The world must never know the truth.
To be sure, Sir Paul himself did not know the secret of that one day. He
could only surmise. Even Vasili did not know. The Boy had cleverly
managed to have the day, as he had the preceding one, "all to himself,"
as he had informed Vasili, and Opal had been equally skillful in
escaping the attendance of her maid. They had left the hotel separately
at night, in different directions, returning separately at night. Who
was there to suspect that they had passed the day together, or had even
met each other at all? Surely--no one!
And what was there for the world to know, in the mystery of their death?
Nothing! They were each found alone, stabbed to the heart, and the
dagger that had done the deed had not even been withdrawn from the body
of the Boy, when they found him. Sir Paul and Vasili had recognized it,
but who would dare to insinuate that the same dagger had drunk the blood
of the young American lady, or to say whose hand had struck either blow?
It was all a mystery, and Sir Paul was determined that it should remain
so.
Money can accomplish anything, and though all Europe rang with the
story, no scandal--nor hint of it--besmirched the fair fame of the
unhappy Boy and girl who had loved "not wisely, but too well!"
There had, indeed, been for them, as they had playfully said--"No
to-morrow!"
And Sir Paul Verdayne, kneeling by the bier, with its trappings of a
kingdom's mourning, which hid beneath its rich adornment all the joy
that life for twenty years had held for him, felt for the first time a
sense of guilt, as he looked back upon his past.
He did not regret his love. He could never do that! Truly, a man and a
woman had a right to love and mate as they would, if the consequences of
their deeds rested only upon their own heads. But to bring children into
the world, the fruit of such a union, to suffer and die, "for the sins
of the fathers," as his son had suffered and died--there was the sin--a
selfish, unpardonable sin! "And the wages of sin is death."
He had never felt the truth before. He had been so happy in his Boy, and
so proud of his future, that there had never been a question in his
mind. But now he was face to face with the terrible consequences.
"Oh, God!" he cried, "truly my punishment is just--but it is greater
than I can bear!"
* * * * *
_And Paul Verdayne--what of him? Of course you want to know. Read the
sequel_
=_HIGH NOON_=
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=HER SOUL AND HER BODY, By Louise Closser Hale=
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=HELL'S PLAYGROUND, by Ida Vera Simonton=
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=SIMPLY WOMEN, by Marcel Prévost=
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=HER REASON, Anonymous=
This startling anonymous work of a well-known English novelist is a
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=THE COUNTERPART, by Horner Cotes=
One of the best novels of the Civil War ever written. John Luther Loag,
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=THE PRINCESS OF FORGE, by George C. Shedd=
The tale of a man, and a maid, and a gold-mine--a stirring, romantic
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=OUR LADY OF DARKNESS, by Albert Dorrington and A. G. Stephens=
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=THE DUPLICATE DEATH, by A. C. Fox-Davies=
A first-rate detective story--one that will keep you thrilled to the
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=THE DANGEROUS AGE, by Karin Michaelis=
Here is a woman's soul laid bare with absolute frankness. Europe went
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=MY ACTOR HUSBAND, Anonymous=
The reader will be startled by the amazing truths set forth and, the
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=MRS. DRUMMOND'S VOCATION, by Mark Ryce=
Lily Drummond is an unmoral (not immoral) heroine. She was not a bad
girl at heart; but when chance opened up for her the view of a life she
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=DOWNWARD: "A Slice of Life," by Maud Churton Braby=
Author of "Modern Marriage and How to Bear It."
"'Downward' belongs to that great modern school of fiction built upon
woman's downfall. * * * I cordially commend this bit of fiction to the
thousands of young women who are yearning to see what they call
life.'"--_James L. Ford in the N. Y. Herald_.
=TWO APACHES OF PARIS, by Alice and Claude Askew=
Authors of "The Shulamite," "The Rod of Justice," etc.
All primal struggles originate with the daughters of Eve.
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=THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH, by Elinor Glyn=
One of Mrs. Glyn's biggest successes. Elizabeth is a charming young
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=BEYOND THE ROCKS, by Elinor Glyn=
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=THE REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE, by Elinor Glyn=
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"Gratitude and, power and self-control! * * * in nature I find there is
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=THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE, by Elinor Glyn=
"One of Mrs. Glyn's most pungent tales of feminine idiosyncracy and
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Evangeline is a delightful heroine with glorious red hair and amazing
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=DAYBREAK: a Prologue to "Three Weeks"=
"Daybreak" is a prologue to "Three Weeks" and forms the first of the
series, although published last. It is a highly interesting account of a
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A story of the Balkans, this is one of the timely novels of the year.
=ONE DAY: a Sequel to "Three Weeks"=
"There is a note of sincerity in this book that is lacking in the
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"One Day" is the sequel you have been waiting for since reading "Three
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=HIGH NOON: a New Sequel to "Three Weeks" A Modern Romeo and Juliet=
A powerful, stirring love-story of twenty years after. Abounding in
beautiful descriptions and delicate pathos, this charming love idyl will
instantly appeal to the million and a quarter people who have read and
enjoyed "Three Weeks."
=THE DIARY OF MY HONEYMOON=
A woman who sets out to unburden her soul upon intimate things is bound
to touch upon happenings which are seldom the subject of writing at all;
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=THE INDISCRETION OF LADY USHER: a Sequel to "The Diary of My
Honeymoon"=
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