HIS FATE
"Aunt Elfrida, dear, I want to speak to you. Can you give me a few
moments, quite alone, this morning?" inquired Le of Mrs. Force, in a low
voice, as they left the breakfast room together, the last two in the rear
of the party.
"Yes, Le. Come into my siting room, where we shall be uninterrupted,"
replied the lady, in the same subdued tone, and with a somewhat troubled
look, as if she anticipated a painful interview.
The other members of the family passed on through the door on the right
side of the hall and entered the drawing room.
Mrs. Force turned from them and opened the door on the left and preceded
Le into the little parlor.
When they were both in the room, the lady shut the door and turned the
key, and motioned Le to take one armchair on one side of the center table,
while she herself sank into the other, saying:
"Now then, Le, dear boy, I am ready to hear what you wish to say to me."
"Maybe you know, Aunt Elfrida, that I am going to sea in a few days," he
said, leaning over the table toward her.
"Yes, Le, I heard so from your uncle, and was very sorry to hear it, dear
boy."
"I suppose my uncle told you why--just as I had come into a rich
inheritance--I applied for sailing orders?"
"Yes, Le."
"And why, though now I would like to resign, I cannot, in honor, do so?"
"He told me all, Le."
"I shall be gone for three years, Aunt Elfrida."
"I know it, and I am very sorry."
"I--I shall leave you all on the second of January--and--and before I go I
would like to have an understanding with you about--about Odalite," said
Le, stammering and blushing as if he had been asking for the hand of his
sweetheart for the first time; but, then, it was so soon after her broken
marriage, and his act seemed so audacious.
The lady turned pale and gripped the edge of the table for support. It had
come, then, the ordeal she had dreaded so much.
"Odalite!" she faltered.
"Yes, Aunt Elfrida; and I should ask your pardon for speaking of my hopes
just now! And I should not presume to do so, only that I am going away so
soon, and am to be gone so long," faltered the lover, blushing more
intensely than before.
"What have you to say of Odalite, then?" inquired the lady.
"Oh, Aunt Elfrida! Can you ask? I wish, first of all, your permission to
correspond with her while I am away, just as I did before, you know! And
then, most of all, I wish that it shall be understood--just as it was
before--that when I return from my next voyage Odalite and I may be
married. And--and, of course, I shall leave the navy then and settle down
with Odalite at Greenbushes--just as it was understood and arranged that
we should do before--before the stranger came to trouble us. That is what
I want and hope and pray for, Aunt Elfrida!" pleaded the lover.
The lady's head was dropped upon her hand while her elbow rested on the
table. She was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, that seemed hours
to Le's anxiety, and then she asked:
"Do you think it right, dear boy, to approach a young girl on the subject
of a second engagement so soon after the disruption of her marriage at the
altar?"
The question was not unkindly put, yet the blush deepened on the youth's
cheek.
"I said that I would not mention the subject now but that I am going away
in so few days, and for years! Nor would I, even under these
circumstances, if it were not that"--he suddenly caught himself up and
stopped. He had been on the brink of involuntarily betraying Odalite's
confidence and adding: "Odalite herself admits that she has no regret for
her broken-off marriage, and never really cared for any one but her first
lover;" for Le was all unaccustomed to having secrets to keep.
"What were you going to add, dear boy? 'If it were not that'--what?"
inquired the lady, who had observed his hesitation and embarrassment.
"If it were not that I know her to be quite free," he answered,
diplomatically.
"But is she quite free, Leonidas?" gravely questioned the lady.
"Is she not?" demanded the youth, in astonishment.
"I do not know, my boy! I am not sure! But oh, Le! I have never breathed a
doubt on this subject to her! And do not you breathe this to any living
soul!" solemnly replied the lady.
"Great Sphinx of Egypt!" said the youth to himself. "Have I got to keep
the secrets of each one from all the others? And without even having the
satisfaction of knowing what the secrets are?"
"Listen to me, Le," said the lady, kindly. "I have no objection to your
corresponding with Odalite while you are on your voyage; but there must be
no engagement, or hint of an engagement between you, either before you go
or in any of your letters. Moreover, your letters must not be directed
immediately to Odalite, but under cover to me."
"I thank you for even so much grace, Aunt Elfrida; but why may not my
letters be directed to Odalite?"
"Because they might get her unjustly and disrespectfully talked about,"
said she, evasively.
"But, oh, Aunt Elfrida! why should you doubt that Odalite is free? Why,
the fact is abundantly proven."
"No, dear boy, there is where the trouble is. We think it was proven, but
we are not sure. What we are sure of is this--that there was a marriage
ceremony performed by special license, and by a regularly ordained
minister of the gospel, and in the presence of more than a hundred
witnesses, between Angus Anglesea and Odalite Force, and which, if both
parties were free to contract marriage at the time, binds them together as
man and wife for the term of their natural lives. That is all that we
positively know, Le," gravely replied the lady.
The youth sprang up from his chair with a cry of pain.
"I cannot bear to think of that!" he said, as he dropped again into his
seat. "But it cannot be true! The news from St. Sebastian proves that the
man was the husband of another woman at the time that he tried to marry
your daughter--and that therefore the ceremony was no marriage at all, and
she is free."
"Leonidas, let me put a possible case. Suppose that when Anglesea married
the Californian widow he had an invalid wife living at the time in
England. Then the marriage with the Californian would have been of no
effect. Suppose, in the interim between the ceremony performed in the
church at St. Sebastian and this performed at All Faith Church, the
invalid wife had died--then the last marriage would be legal and
binding."
"Oh, Aunt Elfrida. Why do you suppose such dreadful conditions?" exclaimed
the youth.
"Because, my poor boy, I have reason to believe them to be the true
conditions," sorrowfully replied the lady.
The youth sprang up and walked the floor in great excitement.
"What reasons have you for thinking as you do?" he at length demanded.
"I cannot tell you now, dear boy."
"But you do not know this to be the case? You only think so?" he
questioned.
"No, I do not know it; because I cannot rely upon the truthfulness of my
informant, nor on the genuineness of the evidence offered."
"Who was your informant, Aunt Elfrida?"
"I cannot tell you, Le."
"But, anyhow, I am sure if that villain had any claim at all on Odalite,
brute that he was, he would have pushed it to extremity!"
"No doubt he would if he had dared, but he dared not, Le! If he had
claimed Odalite as his lawful wife, on the ground that his former marriage
with Mrs. Wright was an illegal one, upon account of the fact of his
having had a wife living at the time it was contracted, and dead since, be
sure that the honest California woman, finding herself deceived, would
have prosecuted him for bigamy, and our courts would have punished him
with the utmost rigor of the law! So, though he might have a lawful claim
on Odalite, he dared not press it! No, nor dared he even to remain in the
country. You know that he has sailed for England."
"Yes, thank Heaven! But, oh, Aunt Elfrida, if there should be any
foundation for your fears that Anglesea has any claim on Odalite, then
Uncle Abel should see to it at once and have her freed from such a monster
by course of law," vehemently exclaimed Le.
"And so he should, if there were any certainty about that claim; but there
is none. Odalite may be free or she may not be. We cannot be sure until we
know more of the man's antecedents. Le, you must be patient, and very
prudent. Odalite's position is a very delicate one. You must not think of
entering into any engagement with her at present, or doing anything, or
saying anything, or writing anything that shall compromise her in the very
slightest degree. I am very sure that you would not, Le."
"I would die first," earnestly answered the youth.
"You can write to her as often as you please as a brother might write to a
sister, and through me, always. Remember that, and wait for events, Le. Be
sure of one thing--under no circumstances will Abel Force ever give his
daughter to Angus Anglesea. If he--Anglesea--should ever be able to prove
that the ceremony performed in All Faith Church last Tuesday was a lawful
one, Odalite's father would at once institute legal proceedings to
liberate his daughter from that merely nominal and most disreputable
marriage. Be sure of that, Le, and be patient. You cannot return before
three years, and in three years much may happen--indeed, much must
happen!"
"I will try to be patient, Aunt Elfrida. But, oh, what a fate is mine!"
"It is a hard fate, Le; but Odalite shares it. If you must live in
suspense, why, so must she. Bear your fate for her sake, Le."
"I will! I will, Aunt Elfrida!" earnestly answered the youth.
"And remember, Le, you are not to breathe to Odalite my doubts as to her
freedom from Anglesea's yoke."
"I will not, Aunt Elfrida. I would not make her so unhappy," replied the
lover. "I will only tell her," he added, "that you think we had better
correspond in the way you suggested, and wait for my return from sea to
settle matters; or shall I refer her to you?"
"Do both, Le. Tell her what you propose to tell, and send her to me."
"I will not keep you any longer from your guests, Aunt Elfrida. I thank
you very much for your kindness to me, and I shall be guided by your
words," said the young man, as he raised the hand of the lady to his lips,
and then dropped it with a bow and left the room.