"WHEN THOSE WE LOVE DRIFT AWAY FROM US THEY ARE NEVER THE SAME AGAIN--
THEY NEVER COME BACK."
"Only a heart that's broken,
That is, if hearts can break;
Only a man adrift for life,
All for a woman's sake.
Your love was a jest--I now see it--
Now, though it's rather late;
Yes, too late to turn my life
And seek another fate."
Although search was instantly instituted for the missing bride-elect,
not the slightest trace of her could be discovered.
Was she Hubert Varrick's bride or not? There was great diversity of
opinion about that. Many contended that she _was not_, because the words
from the minister: "Now I pronounce you man and wife," _had not yet been
uttered_.
No wonder the beauty had found it difficult to choose between handsome
Hubert Varrick and the dashing captain.
Varrick was a millionaire, and Captain Frazier could easily write out
his check for an equal amount.
The matter was hushed up quickly, and kept so quiet that even the simple
village folk at Alexandria Bay never knew of the thrilling event that
had taken place in their very midst at the Crossmon Hotel. If the simple
fisher-folk had but known of it, a tragedy might have been averted.
Mrs. Northrup was the first to recover from the shock; grief gave place
to the most intense anger, and as she paced the floor excitedly to and
fro, she vowed to herself that she would never forgive Gerelda for
bringing this disgrace upon her.
With Varrick the blow had been too severe, too terrible, to be so easily
gotten over. When morning broke, he still lay, face downward, on the
couch upon which he had thrown himself. The effects of the sleeping
potion they had so mercifully administered to him had worn off, and he
was face to face once more with the great sorrow of his life.
They brought him a tempting breakfast, but he sent it away untasted. He
sent at once for one of the call-boys.
"Buy me a ticket for the first steamer that goes out," he said. "I do
not care where it goes or what its destination is; all I want is to get
away."
Still the boy lingered.
"Well," said Varrick, "why do you wait?"
"I had something to tell you sir."
"Go on," said Varrick.
"There is a young girl down in the corridor who insists upon seeing you,
sir. I told her it was quite useless, you would not see her; and then
she fell into passionate weeping, sobbing out that you _must_, if but
for a moment, and that she would not go until she had spoken with you,
if she had to remain there all day."
"Where is she?"
"In the corridor without, sir."
Varrick crossed the room and stepped out into the corridor. He saw a
little figure standing in the dim, shaded light.
She saw him at the same moment, and ran toward him with a little cry,
flinging herself with a great sob at his feet.
"Oh, Mr. Varrick!" she cried.
"Why, it's little Jessie Bain!" he exclaimed in wonder, forgetting for
the time being his own misery.
"It's just as you said it would be, sir--they have turned me out of the
house. And you said, Mr. Varrick, if they ever did that, to be sure and
come straight to you--and here I am!"
Varrick's amazement knew no bounds.
What should he do with this girl who was thrust so unceremoniously on
his hands.
"If it had not been for you and your kind words, I should have flung
myself in the St. Lawrence," continued the girl, "for I was so
desperate. How kind Heaven was to send you to me to help me in my hour
of greatest need, Mr. Varrick."
"Come into the parlor and let us talk this matter over," said Varrick.
"Yes, I will surely help you. I will go and see your uncle this very
day."
"I would not go to him," cried the girl. "I swear to you I would not!
When I tell you this, you will not wonder that I refuse. In his rage,
because I came home so late last night, he shot at me. The ball passed
within a hair's-breadth of my heart, for which it was intended, and the
powder burned my arm--see!"
Hubert Varrick was horror-stricken. The little arm was all blackened
with smoke, and burned with the powder. There was need for a doctor here
at once.
"If I went back to him he would kill me," the girl sobbed. "Oh! do not
send me back, Mr. Varrick. Let me stay here where you are.
"You are the only being in the whole wide world who has ever spoken
kindly to me. I can do quite as much for you as I did for my uncle. I
can mend your clothes, see about your meals, and read the papers to you,
and--"
"Hush, child!" said Varrick. "Don't say any more. It is plain to me that
you can not be sent back to your uncle. I will see what can be done for
you. You shall be my _protegee_ for the present."
"How young and sweet and fair and innocent the girl is!" he told
himself.
Placing the girl in the housekeeper's charge, he had a long consultation
with Doctor Roberts.
"If you will allow me to make a suggestion," returned the doctor, "I
would say, send Jessie Bain to school for a year, if you are inclined to
be philanthropic. She is a wild, beautiful, thoughtless child, and it
has often occurred to me that her education must be very limited."
"That will be the very thing," returned Varrick. "I wonder that this
solution did not occur to me before. I am going away to-day," he added,
"and wonder if I could get you to attend to the matter for me, doctor?"
"I will do so with pleasure," returned Doctor Roberts. "In fact, I know
the very institution that would be most suitable. It's a private
boarding-school for young ladies, patronized by the _elite_, and I feel
assured that Professor Graham will take the greatest possible pains with
this pretty, neglected girl, who will be heir only to the education she
gets there, and her youth and strength with which to face the battle of
life."
When the result of this conference was told to Jessie Bain, she sobbed
as if her heart would break.
"I don't want to leave you, Mr. Varrick!" she cried, "indeed I don't.
Let me go home with you. I am sure your mother will like me. I will be
so good to her."
It was explained to her that this could not be. They could scarcely
pacify her. It touched Hubert Varrick deeply to see how she clung to
him.
He parted with her in the doctor's home, whence she had been taken,
leaving his address with her, with the admonition that she should write
to him every week, and tell him how she was progressing with her
studies; and if she wanted anything she was to be sure to let him know.
He went back to the hotel to bid good-bye to Mrs. Northrup; but somehow
he could not bring himself to say one word to her about Jessie Bain.
As he boarded the evening boat for Clayton there was not a more
miserable man in all the whole wide world than Hubert Varrick. He paced
the deck moodily. The thousands of little green islands upon which the
search-light flashed so continuously, had little charm for him. Suddenly
as the light turned its full glare upon a small island midway up the
stream, rendering each object upon it as clearly visible as though it
were noonday, under the strong light Hubert Varrick's eyes fell upon a
sight that fairly rooted him to the spot with horror.
In that instantaneous glance this is what he saw: A young and lovely
girl crouching on her knees, in the long deep grass under the trees, her
arms outstretched in wild supplication, and bending over her was the
dark figure of a man. One hand clutched her white throat, and the other
hand held a revolver pressed to her white brow. The slouch hat he wore
concealed his features. The girl's face, framed in that mass of curling
dark hair, the white arms--great God! how strangely like Gerelda's!
Was he going mad? He strained his eyes to see, and a terrible cry of
agony broke from his lips.
"Captain!" he shrieked, "somebody, anybody, get me a life-boat, quick,
for the love of Heaven! Half my fortune for a life-boat--quick!"
As he cried aloud, the island was buried in darkness again.