LOST.
The week that followed was a sad and lonely one to me. My romance was
ended--my friend parted from me--my heart ever wincing under the
torture of self-reproach.
As to the first, it would seem that I should have no great reason for
insuperable regret. The situation had been made for, not by me; I was
free to let my thoughts revert unhampered to the object of my first
and only true love.
That was all so; yet I know I brooded over my loss for the time being,
as if it were the greatest that could have befallen me. Such is human
inconsistency. So he who, vainly seeking some large reward,
condescends half-disdainfully to a smaller, is altogether
disproportionately vexed if the latter is unexpectedly denied him.
I went about my work in a hopeless, mechanical manner that only
scarcely concealed the bitter ache my heart endured. Occasionally, at
rare intervals, I came across Dolly, but formally only and never to
exchange a word. Furtively glancing at her when this happened, I
noticed that she looked pale, and, I thought, not happy, but this may
have been nothing but fancy, for my hasty view was generally limited
to half-profile. Of me she took no heed, desiring, apparently, the
absolute close of our old intercourse, and mere pride precluded me
from making any further effort toward an explanation.
Would that even then I had been wise or noble enough to force the
barrier of reserve. God knows but I might have been in time to save
her. Yet maybe my attitude was not altogether unjustified. To put me
on the footing of a formal stranger was heavy punishment for a fault
committed under motives that were anything, at least, but base.
With Duke my intercourse was confined to the office and to matters of
business. He showed no unfriendly spirit toward me there and no desire
for a resumption of our old terms. He never, in public or private,
touched upon the subject that was nearest both our hearts, or alluded
to it in any way. If I was conscious of any melancholy shadow towering
between us it was not because he sought to lend to its features the
gloom that must be enwrapping his own soul.
At last the week ended, and the silence, that had lain black and
ominous as a snake along it, was awakened and reared itself, poisonous
for a spring. Yet its voice spoke up musical at first.
It was Saturday afternoon, and I was walking home toward my lodgings
in a very depressed frame of mind, when a step came behind me and Duke
fell into step alongside.
“Renny,” he said, “I think it right to tell you. I have taken the
privilege of an old friend and spoken to Dolly on a certain subject.”
I nodded. The mere fact was a relief to me.
“We could only exchange a few words, but she has promised to come out
with me to-morrow; and then, I hope, I shall learn more. What time
will you be at home?”
I told him all day, if there was a chance of his turning up.
“Very well,” he said; “then I will call in upon you some time or
other. Good-by.”
He seemed to be on the point of going, but to alter his mind, and he
suddenly took my hand and pressed it hard.
“Are you lonely, old fellow?”
“Very, Duke--and I deserve to be.”
“It’s for the best? You agree with me?”
“Quite.”
He looked sorrowfully in my face, wrung my hand a second time and
walked off rapidly.
It was the expression of his I ever after remembered with most
pathetic heart-sickness and love. I never saw it in his eyes
again--never again.
I rose upon the Sunday morning restless still and unrefreshed. An
undefinable feeling of ominous expectancy would not let me sit quiet
or read or do anything but lend my mind to extravagant speculations
and pace the room up and down in nervous irritability.
At last, thoroughly tired out, I threw myself into an easy-chair and
dozed off from sheer exhaustion. I could not have slept many minutes,
when a clap in my ears awoke me. It might have been an explosive burst
of thunder, so loudly it slammed upon my senses. Yet it was nothing
more than the closing of the room door.
Then I struggled to my feet, for Duke stood before me, and I saw that
his face was white and menacing as death’s own.
“Get up!” he cried, in a harsh, stern voice. “I want to ask you
something.”
I faced him and my heart seemed to suddenly swerve down with a sickly
sensation.
“What is it?” I muttered.
“She’s gone--that’s all!”
“Gone?”
“She never met me this morning as she promised. I waited an
hour--more. Then I grew frightened and went to her lodgings. She had
left the evening before, saying she wasn’t coming back. A man came to
fetch her and she went away with him. Do you understand?--with him!”
“With whom?” I asked, in a confused, reeling manner; yet I knew.
“I want you to tell me.”
“How can I, Duke?”
“I want you to say what you have done with your trust? There has been
something going on of late--some secret kept from me. Where is that
brother of yours?”
“I know no more than you do.”
“I shall find out before long. The cunning doesn’t exist that could
keep him hidden from me if--if he is a party to this. Why are you
silent? I can read it in your eyes. They have met, and it must have
been through you.”
“Before God, it wasn’t!”
“Then they have!” He put his hand to his face and staggered as if he
had been struck there.
“Oh!” he gasped; “the horror of what I dreaded!”
Then he came closer and snarled at me:
“Here’s a friend, out of all the world! So patronizing to accept the
poor little treasure of my life and soul, and so royal to roll it in
the mud! Was this a put-up affair between you?”
“You are hateful and unjust!” I cried, stung beyond endurance. “He
forced himself upon us last Sunday. I was brutal, almost, in my
efforts to get rid of him. But for some reason or other, Dolly--Miss
Mellison--took his side. When I found so, I left them in a huff and
repented almost immediately. But, though I sought far and near, I
never came across them again till evening.”
He listened with a black, gloomy impatience.
“You acted well, by your own confession,” said he. “You played the
part of a true friend and lover by leaving her alone for a moment only
in the company of that paragon.”
“I oughtn’t to, I know.”
He gave a high, grating laugh.
“But, putting me on one side,” I began, when he took me up with the
most intense acrid bitterness.
“Why can’t I, indeed--you and all your precious kith and kin? Why did
I ever save you from being knocked on the head in that thieves’
garden? I was happy before--God knows I might have been happy in
another way now. You’ve proved the viper on my hearth with a
vengeance. Put you on one side? Ah, I dare say that would suit you
well--to shirk the responsibility of your own act and leave the
suffering to others.”
“I have suffered, Duke, and always shall. I won’t gainsay you--but
this hurts me perhaps only one degree less than it does you. Why put
the worst construction on it?”
He gave another cruel laugh.
“Let’s have your theory of her vanishing without a word to me,” he
said.
“At least you can’t be certain that it--it was my brother.”
“How perspicacious of you! You don’t think so yourself, do you? Or
that I should have meekly accepted that woman’s statement without some
inquiry as to the appearance of the interesting stranger?”
He dropped his cruelly bantering manner for one hard as iron and
ferocious.
“Let’s stop this double-faced foolery. I want his address of you.”
“I haven’t got it, you know.”
“You can’t guess at it?”
“Not possibly. What would you do if you had it?”
“What do you think? Call and offer my congratulations, of course.”
“Don’t be a madman. You know nothing for certain. Wait and see if she
doesn’t turn up at the office as usual to-morrow.”
He seemed to think a moment, and then he threw up his hands with a
loud, wailing moan.
“Lost!” he cried. “In my heart I know it.”
Did I not in mine? It had rung in my ears all night. I took a step
toward him, greatly moved by his despairing, broken tone, but he waved
me back fiercely.
“I curse the day,” he cried in bitter grief, “that ever I came across
you. I would have let you rob me--that was nothing to her happiness;
but now----”
“Let him look to himself,” he went on after a pause, in which he had
mastered his emotion. “After to-morrow--I will wait till then--but
afterward--the world isn’t wide enough to keep us apart. Better for
him to run from an uncubbed tigress than this twisted cripple!”
He tossed one arm aloft with a wild, savage gesture and strode heavily
from the room.