THE SACRIFICE.
At the same moment some one came softly through the cottage gate and
looked up and down the road, as if watching for some one else.
As Mary Grey came round the carriage to the front of the house, she
recognized in the watcher Craven Kyte, who at the same instant perceived
her.
"Wait here for me," she said to the frightened coachman, as she walked
rapidly toward the man who was hurrying to meet her.
"My darling! I have been waiting for you so long!" he said, seizing her
hand.
"Hush! The coachman might hear you," she whispered. "Let me come in."
He drew her arm within his own and led her into the cottage, and into a
cool, well-lighted and tastefully-furnished parlor.
Poor fellow, he had not only put in a few necessary articles of
furniture for his own sleeping-room, but he had fitted up a pretty
parlor for her reception, and provided a dainty feast for her
entertainment.
To do this in time, he had worked like a mill-horse all day long, and he
had spent all his available funds, and even pawned his watch and his
little vanities of jewelry to raise more purchase-money.
And now he felt rewarded when he saw her look of surprise, which he
mistook for a look of pleasure.
There was an Indian matting of bright light colors on the floor, white
lace curtains lined with rose-colored cambric at the windows, and a sofa
and easy-chairs covered with rose-colored French chintz. There were a
few marble-top stands, and tables covered with white crochet-work over
rose-colored linings. There were vases of fragrant flowers on the
mantle-shelf, and on the window-sills and stands, and every available
place.
In the center of the room stood a small table, covered with fine white
damask, decorated with a Sevres china set for two, and loaded with a
variety of choice delicacies--delicious cakes, jellies, fruits,
preserves and lemonade.
"This is a surprise," said Mary Grey, sinking into one of the tempting
easy-chairs.
"Oh, I am glad you like it as it is! But oh, indeed, I wish everything
here was more worthy of you! If it were in my power I would receive and
entertain you like a queen."
"You are so good--so thoughtful! And nothing in the world could be
pleasanter than this cool, pretty parlor," said Mary Grey, trying to
rouse herself from the abstraction into which she had fallen after her
first look of surprise at the decorated room; for, truth to tell, her
mind was occupied with graver thoughts than appertained to house or
furniture, flowers or fruits.
"And this has been ready for you, my queen, ever since sunset. And here
I have sat and waited for you, running out every five minutes to see if
you were coming," he said, half reproachfully.
"Well, I am here at last, you impatient boy! I could not come before. I
was sitting with a sick friend and could not leave her until she went to
sleep," smiled the siren.
"I shall end in being very wickedly jealous of your sick friends, and
your poor friends, and your lame friends, and all the other forlornities
that take you away from me, and keep you away from me so much," he
sighed.
"Ah, but when we are married I shall give up this sort of life! For I
know that 'charity begins at home;' and though it ought not always to
stay there, yet should it stay there the principal part of its time,"
smiled the witch.
"Ah, I am so glad to hear you say so, dearest dear! You _will_ stay at
home for me most of your time then?"
"It will be my delight to do so!"
He caught her hand and kissed it ardently, and drew her slightly toward
him, looking at her longingly, as if pleading for a closer kiss.
But she smiled and shook her head, saying, archly:
"Remember--remember, if I come here to see you, you must treat me with
some respectful reserve, or I will never come again."
"I will do exactly as you wish. I am your slave, and can do no otherwise
than as you bid me," he said, with a sigh.
"That is a good, dear boy!" she answered, patting his cheeks; and then
adding, archly, "A few days, you know, and 'the tables will be turned.'
It will then be _you_ who will have the right to command, and some one
else who must obey."
As the Circe murmured these words, his color went and came, and when she
ceased he panted out his answer:
"Oh, the thought of ever having you for my own is--too much rapture to
be credited! But, Mary, my queen Mary, then and ever I shall be your
slave as now!"
"Well, we'll see," she murmured, smiling and caressing him. "But now I
am tired and hungry, and you are forgetting the duties of a host."
"I am forgetting everything in looking at your beautiful face. But now,
will you let me take off your bonnet and shawl here, or will you go into
the next room and do it for yourself, I remaining here until you come
back?"
"I will go into the next room, if you please," said Mary Grey.
And he arose and opened the back door of the cottage parlor and held it
open for her.
She passed through into a prettily-furnished and well-lighted little
bed-room, whose back windows opened upon the fragrant flower-garden.
Here she found everything prepared for her comfort, as if it had been
done by the hands of a woman. She took off her bonnet and shawl,
brushed her clothes, bathed her face and hands, smoothed her raven
ringlets, took a fresh cambric handkerchief from her pocket and
saturated it with Cologne from the toilet-table, and then passed out
again into the parlor.
Her devoted slave was waiting for her there. And on the table, in
addition to the other comforts, there was a little silver pot of rich
aromatic coffee.
"Why, have you a cook?" inquired Mrs. Grey, in some disturbance.
"No, darling; I made that coffee myself. Sit down now and try it,"
smiled the poor fellow.
"You are a jewel!" she said, as all her disturbance disappeared, and she
sat down to the table.
He waited on her with affectionate solicitude, helping her to coffee and
cream, to chicken salad and pickled oysters; changing her plate and
pressing her to try the jellies and the cakes, or the fruit and ices,
until she had feasted like a princess.
He, in the meantime, ate but little, seeming to feed upon the sight of
her enjoyment. At length she pushed her plate and cup away and declared
she could touch nothing more.
Then he arose as if to clear the service; but she stopped him, saying:
"Leave it just as it is and come and sit with me on the porch outside.
The night is beautiful, and I want to sit there and talk with you. I
have something to propose."
And she ran into the back room for her bonnet and shawl.
He got up and gave her his arm and took her out upon the porch.
And they sat down together on the bench, under thickly overhanging
vine-leaves.
"Craven," she murmured, with her head upon his shoulder, "do you really
love me as much as you profess to do?"
"Do I really love you?" he repeated, with impassioned earnestness. "Oh,
how shall I prove to you how much? Protestations are but words. Show me
how I can prove to you how much I love you! Put me to the test! Try
me--_try me!_"
She hesitated and sighed--perhaps in pity and remorse for this poor boy,
who loved her so devotedly, and whom she was about to require to pay
down his honor and his life as the price of her hand.
"Oh, tell me how I can show you the height and depth and breadth--no; I
should rather say the immeasurability of my infinite love!" he pleaded,
prayerfully.
Again she sighed and trembled--yes, trembled at the contemplation of the
wickedness she was about to perpetrate; but she did not draw back from
it. She slid her arm around his neck and kissed him softly, and then
said:
"Listen to me, Craven, my dearest. This is Monday night, you know."
"Yes," he said, attentively.
"On Wednesday morning I am to start for Philadelphia."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, uneasily.
"Hush! Wait until you hear me out. You must meet me in Philadelphia on
Friday morning. And we will be married on Friday noon."
He was struck speechless, breathless, for a few moments with the excess
of his delight.
Then he panted forth the words:
"Oh, bless you! Bless you, my queen, my angel! I bless you for this
great joy!"
"You must be calm, my dear, and hear me out. You must be punctual, and
meet me on Friday morning at ten o'clock, at _this_ address," she
continued, handing him a slip of paper with the address in question
written upon it. "There; now put it into your pocket-book and keep it
safe."
"I will--I will, my queen! But why may I not go with you?"
"For reasons that I will explain soon. Till I do, you must trust me."
"I trust you utterly."
"Then please leave here for Philadelphia on Tuesday evening, so as to
precede me by twelve hours. And on Friday morning, by ten o'clock, be at
the place I have designated, and wait until I join you."
"And we will be married the same day?"
"We will be married at noon on the same day. Now do you understand?"
"My mind is in a delirium of joy, but I understand."
"Now, dearest, you must take me out to the carriage," she said, rising
and drawing her shawl around her.
He gave her his arm and led her out to the carriage, which the
frightened negro coachman had driven quite to the opposite side of the
road from the terrible haunted house.
"Now go on to the Misses Cranes'," she said, after she had taken leave
of her victim and settled herself in her seat.
It was nearly twelve o'clock when she entered her boarding-house; but
she told her waiting landladies that she had spent the day and half the
night with the sick child, and they were satisfied.