"Mamma, how pale and troubled you look. What ails you?"
Mrs. St. John was crossing the threshold of the little cottage home that
looked, oh, so poor and cheap after the stately brown-stone palace she
had left that morning, and after one quick glance into her mother's
careworn face she saw that new lines of grief and trouble had come upon
it since last they had met.
"Come up into my room, Xenie. I have much to say to you," said her
mother, leading the way up the narrow stairway into her bedroom, a neat
and scrupulously clean little room, but plainly and almost poorly
furnished.
Mrs. Carroll was a widow with only a few barren acres of land, which she
hired a man to till. Her husband was long since dead, and the burden of
rearing her two children had been a heavy one to the lonely widow, who
came of a good family and naturally desired to do well by her two
daughters, both of them being gifted with uncommon beauty.
But poverty had hampered and crushed her desires, and made her an old
woman while yet she was in the prime of life.
Xenie removed her traveling wraps and sat down before the little toilet
glass to arrange her disordered hair.
"My dear, how pale and sad you look in your widow's weeds," said Mrs.
Carroll, regarding her attentively. "I was very sorry to hear of your
husband's death. It is very sad to be left a widow so young--barely
twenty."
"Yes," answered Xenie, abstractedly; then she turned around and said
abruptly: "Mamma, where is my sister?"
Mrs. Carroll looked at her daughter a moment without replying.
"I have brought her some beautiful presents," continued Mrs. St. John,
"and you, too, dear mamma--things that you will like--both beautiful and
useful."
Mrs. Carroll looked at her daughter a moment in utter silence, and her
lips quivered strangely.
Then she caught up a corner of her homely check apron, and hiding her
convulsed face in its folds, she burst into bitter weeping.
Xenie sprang up and threw her arms around the neck of the agitated
woman.
"Oh, mamma," she cried, anxiously, "speak to me. Tell me what ails you?
Where is Lora?"
As if that name had power to open the flood gates of emotion wider, Mrs.
Carroll wept more bitterly than ever.
"Mamma, you frighten me," cried Xenie, terrified. "Oh, tell me where is
Lora? Is she dead?"
"No, no--oh, better that she were!" sobbed her mother, wildly.
Mrs. St. John grew as pale as death. She shook her mother almost rudely
by the arm.
"What has Lora done?" she cried. "Where is she? I will go and seek her."
She was rushing wildly to the door, but Mrs. Carroll sprang forward, and
catching the skirt of her dress, pulled her back.
"Not now!" she gasped; "wait a little. That wretched girl has ruined her
good name and disgraced us all."
Mrs. St. John dropped into a chair like one bereft of life, and her
great, black eyes, dilated with terror, stared up into her mother's
face.
"Yes, it is too true," said her mother, sitting down and rocking herself
back and forth, while low and heart-broken moans escaped her white lips.
"But, mamma, poor, good, little Lora! it cannot be! She was truth and
innocence itself," panted the young widow, in a voice of anguish.
"She deceived us all--she was a sly little piece. You will see for
yourself, Xenie. She lies ill in her chamber, and--and in a few months
there will be a"--she lowered her voice and gave a fearful glance around
her--"_a child_!"
"Oh! mamma, then she was married? Of course Lora was married! Doesn't
she say so?" exclaimed Xenie, confidently.
"Oh, yes, she swears to a marriage--a secret one--but look you,
Xenie--not a ring, not a witness, not a scrap of paper to prove it! And
the man dead--lost at sea!" said Mrs. Carroll, despairingly.
"Oh! mamma, then it was----"
"Jack Mainwaring--yes. He was courting her this long time, you know. He
asked for her, and I wouldn't give my consent. I thought he wasn't good
enough for her--a sailor, and only second mate, you know. And Aunt
Egerton had promised to give her a season in town this winter, and she
might have made a better match than a sailor."
Mrs. Carroll broke down again and wept bitterly.
"Try to control yourself, mamma," said the young widow, stroking the
bowed head tenderly. "And so Jack married her in spite of you?"
"Yes," sobbed her mother, "he married her secretly, she says. It was
about the same time, or nearly, that you were married. He found out that
Lora was going to town to be one of the bridesmaids, and was jealous, I
suppose, thinking she might see someone she could like better. So he
persuaded her into it, and they were to keep it secret until he came
back from this voyage."
"And he is lost at sea, you say?" asked Xenie, thoughtfully.
"Yes; he went away in a few weeks after the marriage, to be gone six
months; but the news came last week of the loss of his ship by fire, and
his name was on the list of the dead. You see, Xenie, what a terrible
position Lora was placed in. She fainted when she heard the news, and
then I found out everything."
"Does anyone else know, mamma?" inquired Xenie, anxiously.
"Not yet. She has been ill, but I have cared for her myself, and did not
call in the doctor. But we cannot keep it a secret always. Of course
malicious people will not believe in the marriage, and Lora's fair fame
will be ruined forever! Oh! if she had only never been born!" cried the
proud and unhappy mother.
Mrs. St. John sat silent, her lily-white hands clasped in her lap, her
dark eyes staring into vacancy with a strangely intent expression. She
roused herself at last and looked at her mother.
"Mamma, we must devise ways and means of keeping this a secret! It would
ruin the family to have it known," she said, decidedly.
"Yes, I know that," said Mrs. Carroll, gloomily. "I would do anything in
the world to save Lora's fair fame if I only knew what to do!"
"I have a plan," said Xenie, rising quietly. "I will tell it you
by-and-by, mamma. Everything shall come right if you will be guided by
me. Now take me to my sister, if you please."
Mrs. Carroll rose silently and opened the door. Xenie followed her down
a narrow passage to a door at the further end, and they entered a pretty
and neat little room.
A low wood fire burned on the cleanly swept hearth, and on the white
bed, with her dark hair trailing loosely over the pillows, lay a
beautiful, white-faced girl, enough like Xenie to be her twin.
She started up with a cry of mingled joy and pain as the new-comer came
toward her.
"My poor darling!" Mrs. St. John murmured, in a tone of infinite love
and compassion, as she twined her arms around the trembling form.
Lora clung to her sister, sobbing and weeping convulsively. At length
she whispered against her shoulder:
"Mamma has told you all, Xenie?"
"Yes, dear," was the gentle answer.
"And you--you believe that I was married?" questioned the invalid.
"Yes, darling," whispered her sister, tenderly. "How could I believe
evil of you, my innocent, little Lora?"
"Thank God!" cried the invalid, gratefully. "Oh! Xenie, mamma has been
so angry it nearly broke my heart."
"She will forgive you, darling," murmured Mrs. St. John, fondly, as she
stroked the dark head nestling on her breast.
"And, oh, Xenie, poor Jack--my Jack--he is dead!" sobbed Lora, bursting
into a fit of wild, hysterical weeping.
"There, darling, hush--you must not excite yourself," said Mrs. St.
John, laying her sister back upon the pillows, and trying to soothe her
frenzied excitement.
"And no one will believe that I was Jack's wife--I am disgraced forever!
Mamma says so. The finger of scorn will be pointed at me everywhere. But
what do I care, since my heart is broken? I only want to die!" moaned
the unhappy young creature, as she tossed to and fro upon the bed.
"Be quiet, Lora; listen to me," said Mrs. St. John, taking the restless,
white hands in her own, and sitting down upon the bed. "I wish to talk
to you as soon as you become reasonable."
Thus adjured, Lora hushed her sobs by a great effort, and lay perfectly
still but for the uncontrollable heaving of her troubled breast, her
large, hollow, dark eyes fixed earnestly on Xenie's pale and lovely
face.
Mrs. Carroll crouched down in a chair by the side of the bed, the image
of hopeless woe.
"Lora, dear," said her sister, in low, earnest tones, "of course you
know that, if this dreadful thing becomes known, the disgrace will be
reflected upon us all."
Mrs. Carroll groaned, and Lora murmured a pitiful yes.
"I have thought of a plan to save you," continued Mrs. St. John. "A
clever plan that would shield your fair fame forever. But it will
require some co-operation on your part, and it may be that you and mamma
may refuse for you to undertake it."
"You may count on my consent beforehand!" groaned Mrs. Carroll,
desperately.
"I will do whatever mamma says," murmured Lora, weakly.
Mrs. St. John looked away from them a moment in silent thought; then she
said, slowly:
"Of course, you know, mamma, that my husband died without a will, and
that Howard Templeton inherited the greater part of his wealth?"
"Yes; you wrote me. I was very sorry that you were disappointed, dear,"
said her mother, gently, yet wondering what this had to do with Lora's
forlorn case.
"Mamma," said Xenie, slowly, "if my husband had left me as Lora's left
her, I could have kept that fortune out of Howard Templeton's hands."
"My dear, I hardly understand you," said her mother, blankly.
"Mamma, I mean that if I could hope for an heir to my husband, the child
would inherit all that wealth, and Howard Templeton be left penniless."
"Oh, yes, I understand you now," was the quick reply, "but you have no
prospect, no hope of such a thing--have you, dear?"
There was a moment's silence, and Mrs. St. John's fair face grew
scarlet, then deadly white again. She looked away from her mother, and
said, slowly:
"Yes, mamma, I have such a hope. Listen to me, you and Lora, and I will
help you in your trouble, and you shall help me to complete my revenge."