"I WOULD RATHER WALK BY YOUR SIDE IN TROUBLE THAN SIT ON A THRONE BY THE
MIGHTIEST KING."
With trembling hands the girl broke the seal, drew forth the missive,
and slowly unfolded it. It was long and closely written:
"DEAR LITTLE JESSIE," it began, "I know that the contents of this
letter will surprise you, but the thoughts born of longings
impossible to suppress, even though I would, fill my brain to
overflowing and must find utterance in these pages.
"There are many men who can express their heart-thoughts in burning
words, but this boon is not given to me. I can only tell you my
hopes and fears and longings in the old, conventional words; but
the earnest wish is mine that they may find an echo in your heart,
little girl.
"With your woman's quick wit you must have read my secret--which
every one else seems to have discerned--and that is, I love you,
dear--love you with all the strength of my heart.
"I wonder, Jessie, if you could ever care enough for me to marry
me.
"There, the words are written at last. I intended them to seem so
impressive, but they read far too coldly on the white paper, to
express the world of tenderness in my soul which would make them
eloquent if I could but hold your hands clasped tightly in my own
at this moment and whisper them to you.
"If you can but care for me, dear Jessie, I will be the happiest
man the whole world holds. Your 'yes' or 'no' will mean life or
death for me.
"I can not think, after all that I have gone through, that Heaven
would be so cruel as to have me hope for your love in vain. When I
come to you, Jessie, I shall ask you for my answer. I am an
impatient lover; I count the long days and hours that must wing
their slow flight by until we meet again.
"I will not take you to the home of my mother, Jessie, dear, for I
quite believe you would be happier with me elsewhere. There is a
beautiful little cottage in the suburbs of the city, a charming,
home-like place. By the time that this letter reaches you I will
have purchased it, so confident am I that I can win you, little
Jessie.
"I shall set workmen upon it at once, to make a veritable fairy's
bower of it ere you behold it, and it will be ready for us by early
spring.
"We will spend the intervening time--which will be our
honey-moon--either in Florida or abroad, as best pleases you. Your
will shall be my law. I will make you so happy, Jessie, that you
will never regret the hour in which you gave your heart to me.
"It will take but a day for this letter to reach you, and another
must elapse ere I can hear from you. They will be two days hard for
me to endure, Jessie. When a man is in love--deeply, desperately
in love--it is madness for him to attempt to do any kind of
business, as his mind is not on it, he can think of but one
object--the girl whom he idolizes. His one hope is to be near her,
his one prayer is that her love is his, in return for the mighty
affection that sways his whole being, and leads him into the
ideal--the soul-world, which throws the halo of memory and
anticipation around the image of her whom he loves.
"Yours lovingly,
"Hubert Varrick."
Jessie Bain read the letter through, the color coming and going on her
face, her heart aglow. Once, twice, thrice she read it through, then,
with a little sob, she pressed it closely to her breast.
"Hubert Varrick loves me!" Jessie whispered the words over and over
again to herself, wondering if she should not awake presently and find
it only an empty dream.
He was waiting for her answer. She smiled at the thought.
"My darling Hubert, my love, my king, as though it could be anything
else but yes--yes, a thousand times yes!" she murmured.
But even in this moment of ecstatic joy, the sword of destiny fell
swiftly and unerringly upon her hapless golden head.
God pity and help her in her mortal anguish, for in this moment she
remembered that she had given Hubert's mother her sacred promise, nay,
her _vow_, that she would never cross her son's path again.
When the nurse returned, after the lapse of perhaps a quarter of an
hour, to Jessie's bedside, she found the girl sobbing as though her
heart would break, and the letter torn into a thousand pieces, which
were fluttering over the counterpane.
"I hope you have not heard any bad news, Miss Bain," she said,
earnestly.
Jessie raised her tear-stained face from her hands, and smiled up into
her face, the most pitiful smile that ever was seen.
"I have heard music so sweet that it might have opened up heaven to me,
if fate had not been against me," she murmured, with quivering lips, the
tears starting afresh to her blue eyes.
These words completely puzzled the old nurse. But ere she could utter
the words on her lips, Jessie continued:
"I wish I could have some writing materials; I should like to answer
this letter which I have received."
"Do you think you feel strong enough to attempt to write it now?" she
asked dubiously.
"Yes," said Jessie; adding under her breath: "I must write it quickly,
while I have the courage to do it."
The pen which she held trembled in her hand. But at length, after many
futile attempts, she penned the following epistle:
"Dear Mr. Varrick,--Your letter has just reached me, and oh! I can
not tell you how happy your words made me. But, Mr. Varrick, it can
not be; we are destined by a fate most cruel, to be nothing to each
other. I may as well tell you the truth-- I do love you with all my
heart. But there is a barrier between us which can never be
bridged over in this world. Your mother knows what it is; she will
tell you about it.
"I intend leaving this place to-day, and going out into the
coldness and darkness of the world. Please do not attempt to find
me, as seeing you again would only be more pitiful for me. But take
this assurance with you down to the very grave: I shall always love
you while my life lasts. Your image, and yours alone, will forever
be enshrined in my heart.
"Good-bye again, dear Hubert, I bless you from the bottom of my
heart for the love you have offered me and the honor you have paid
me in asking me to be your wife. Think kindly of me some time.
"Yours, with a breaking heart,
"Jessie Bain."
When next the nurse made her rounds, to her great amazement she found
the girl, weak as she was, already dressed, and putting on her hat.
Nurses and doctors were unable to change her determination to leave.
"What of the young gentleman from whom you had the letter?" asked
Jessie's nurse.
"The letter that I have written is to him," she said, in a very husky
voice. "He will understand. I will leave it in your care to send to him,
if you will be so kind."
The nurse took charge of the letter.
"I do not wish you to mail it until to-night," said Jessie, eagerly,
"for I-- I will not be able to leave ere that time. You have been so
kind to me," she added, "Oh, believe me that I do not know how to thank
you for all you have done!"
"A little more strength would not have come amiss to you," one of the
doctors said gravely. "One thing, however, I insist upon--rest until
late in the afternoon, and then leave us if you really must."
With a little sigh Jessie took off her hat again.
Remaining there a few hours longer would not matter much, she told
herself; Hubert Varrick would not receive her letter until the following
morning. She could leave that night, and be so far away by day-break
that he could never find her. But what strange freaks Fate plays upon us
to carry out its designs.
When the nurse left Jessie Bain, she took the all-important letter with
her, and quite forgetful of the promise which she had made the girl, not
to send the letter out until night, she proceeded to stamp it as she saw
the letter-carrier stop at the door to take up the mail.
It would be very nice to send it by special delivery, she thought. He
will receive it all the sooner; and hastily adding the additional stamp
required, she handed it to the postman.
An hour later it was on its way, and a little past noon Jessie's letter
reached its destination and was promptly delivered.
Hubert had been summoned to his mother's home from the hotel where he
had been stopping. She had been seized with a serious illness, and had
hastily sent for him to come to her at once. He had responded with
alacrity to his mother's telegram. He had scarcely divested himself of
his fur overcoat in the corridor, ere the special messenger arrived with
Jessie's letter. He thrust it into his pocket, this sweet missive, to
read at his leisure, murmuring as he did so: "This is neither the time
nor place to learn the contents of my darling's letter. I must be all
alone when I read it."
Thrusting it into his pocket, Varrick hurried quickly to his mother's
_boudoir_. With a great cry of relief she reached out her hand to him.
"Thank God, you are here at last."
The trouble about Jessie Bain had been temporarily bridged over when he
had married Gerelda; yet, ever since, there had been a constraint
between mother and son which she very perceptibly felt.
She had always said to herself that he would never forget Jessie Bain,
and when he became a widower the terror was strong within her that he
would make an attempt to find her.
"Will the girl keep her promise," she asked herself over and over again,
"and never cross his path again?"
It all rested on that. But it weighed heavily on her mind that she had
accused the girl wrongfully, and she told herself that God would surely
take vengeance upon her if she stood at heaven's gate with that sin on
her soul.
In this hour, she must tell Hubert the truth, keeping nothing back. She
would not implicate herself, as that would bring horror into his eyes.
He must never know that she had concocted that plot in order to ruin the
girl.
Hubert greeted his mother with all the old-time boyish, affectionate
ardor and she asked herself how she could tell him the truth--that which
was weighing so heavily on her mind.
She gave a glad cry as he came up to the velvet divan upon which she
reclined, and held out her arms to him.