"WILL YOU BE MY OWN SWEET WIFE, KATHLEEN?"
"Love thee? So well, so tenderly,
Thou'rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and happiness
Are worthless without thee!"
Kathleen had a sweet and bird-like voice, that had held crowded
drawing-rooms entranced in the happier days that now seemed so far away.
As that exquisite voice--timid at first, and faltering, but gradually
gaining strength and volume--rose upon the night air the young girl was
at once surrounded by a wondering and admiring throng.
Her desperate courage began to give way as she saw herself hemmed in by
the crowd, and the impulse seized her to fly; but she beat it bravely
back, for already silver coins began to rain into the small, white,
outstretched hand that seemed so ridiculously dainty and aristocratic
for a street beggar.
"Jove! what a regular beauty!" one man whispered to another, as he
gazed eagerly into the sweet, flower-like face.
She heard him, and her voice shook with indignation, but she kept on,
holding fast meanwhile to her earnings, determined that no bold thief
should capture them this time.
Suddenly she became aware that the crowd's attention was being diverted
from her, and resolved to escape at this auspicious moment.
The fact was that the popular actor, Ralph Chainey, who had just
carried staid Philadelphia by storm in his popular impersonation of
Prince Karl, was just leaving the theater for his hotel, and almost
every one turned away from the beautiful singer for a glimpse of the
tall, dark, handsome young fellow, with his swinging stride, as he came
among them.
He, on his part, had been standing back a little, arrested, like the
others, by that sweet, sad, thrilling song. As it neared the end, he
pressed forward to make a generous contribution to pay for his share in
the rare entertainment.
The crowd fell back and made way for him, and Kathleen, dreaming not of
the nearness of the lover who haunted all her thoughts, started to fly.
Ralph Chainey had not yet seen her face, but he hurried in pursuit of
the slight cloaked figure, generously anxious that she should not lose
the money he was going to bestow on her for the song.
The crowd began to disperse, and Kathleen, unconscious of pursuit, ran
half a square, then slackened her pace. So it was that Ralph Chainey
caught up with her, and laid a strong, detaining hand upon her arm.
With a low moan of terror Kathleen raised her beautiful, frightened
dark eyes to the face of her assailant.
For a moment they gazed, spell-bound, into each other's eyes.
To both it seemed like the shock of a life-time--that sudden
_rencontre_; and to the man it was more startling then to the girl, for
he had long sorrowed over the fate of Kathleen Carew, believing her
dead.
Yet here stood this slight girl whose voice had so thrilled him a few
minutes ago gazing at him with Kathleen Carew's eyes, looking out of
Kathleen Carew's face.
Was she ghost or human?
Was she a phantom of his brain, this slight, pale girl?
He had thought of her so often, he had mourned her so passionately,
that perhaps his brain was distraught--perhaps the vision was the
figment of a mind diseased.
But suddenly the moan died away on the sweet, red lips; the hunted look
faded from the somber dark eyes and was succeeded by a look of joy as
she faltered:
"Ralph Chainey!"
His hand had slipped from her arm in the first shock of recognition.
Now he hastily put it back and pressed it to see if it was real flesh
and blood or only a phantom woman. He muttered, hoarsely:
"Kathleen Carew, are you ghost or human?"
Kathleen's dark-eyes laughed radiantly into his.
"I am human, Mr. Chainey, as I think you ought to realize from the way
you're pinching my arm," she returned, with pretty archness.
All in a moment she had changed from a sad, persecuted young girl,
begging her way in the dark street, to a very queen of love and
happiness.
Looking into his luminous brown eyes, all her sorrow seemed to flee
away, and the sunlit sky of love seemed glowing over her head, instead
of dark, wintery skies.
Her archness, her smiles, and the warm, human touch of her wrist,
recalled him from his ghostly fears, and he said, faintly, but eagerly:
"I can hardly believe my senses, Kathleen. You--alive--after all these
months, when I sorrowed for you dead! Where have you been?"
Her face paled, and she looked apprehensively over her shoulder.
"I--I--can not tell you here!" she faltered. "I might be missed and
followed. If--if--you would only take me to the depot, and send me home
to Boston to papa, I will be so grateful. I--I--think I have enough
money to pay my way."
Ralph Chainey signaled a passing cab, and lifted the young girl gently
into it.
"Drive slowly about the streets for an hour until further orders," he
said to the driver, as he sprung in and took his seat by Kathleen. "Oh,
what happiness this is to find you alive, Kathleen!" he exclaimed,
searching for her little hand, and holding it warmly clasped in his.
She nestled slightly toward him, and he thrilled with happiness at the
confiding motion.
"You will send me home to papa?" she repeated, sweetly.
Then he said:
"It will be several hours before the next train for Boston leaves,
Kathleen, so you can tell me all about yourself while we ride about and
beguile the time of waiting. Or, would you prefer to go to a hotel and
rest, and have some refreshments?"
"I am not hungry nor tired, and prefer to ride about with you this
way," answered the girl, with naïve simplicity; and he drew a sigh of
relief.
He was young, but more worldly wise than Kathleen. He preferred not
to take her to a hotel until she had some claim on him, to silence
carping tongues. But first he must know the secret of her mysterious
whereabouts ever since the night when he had kissed and wept over her
beautiful dead face, and gone away on a mission that brooked no delay.
But for a few minutes he was silent from sheer happiness. Alive, his
beautiful Kathleen, whom he had adored in secret, but never told of his
love! What happiness, when he and happiness had so long been strangers!
Her tremulous voice broke the silence:
"Do you understand it all--that I was in a trance that night when you
bade me farewell and went away?"
"My God! a trance? Yes, you _did_ look natural. Mrs. Churchman remarked
upon it before she left me alone with you."
"I heard what she said," Kathleen answered, shuddering, and Ralph
Chainey put his arm about her and drew her closer, murmuring:
"Did you hear what I said, too, my bonnie Kathleen?"
"Yes," she answered, trembling in a sort of ecstasy and feeling warm
blushes redden her cheeks as she whispered:
"You kissed me--you wept over me--you--said--said--that you loved me!"
"And you, sweet Kathleen? Were you vexed at me for my presumption?"
questioned the young man, drawing her closer with a fond but reverent
arm.
"No; oh, no!" faltered the girl, shyly, yet blissfully.
"And you will let me tell you the same thing over, darling Kathleen,
that I worship you, and you will promise me, dear, to be my own sweet
wife? Yes, is it not, my own one? There, do not draw away from me in
fear. One kiss, my own love, my beautiful treasure, given back to me
from the grave itself!"
Then one kiss became a dozen. He pressed her close to his heart, and
she rested there with a blissful sigh, happy in this haven of rest.
Presently:
"Now, darling, you may tell me all your story; then I have a startling
proposition to make to you," he said.
From what she had said to him about taking her home to her father, he
perceived that she was entirely ignorant of all that had transpired
since her supposed death.
She was mercifully ignorant of her father's loss at sea, and the will
made in London just before he sailed, disinheriting his only daughter,
and giving her portion of his wealth to Alpine Belmont.
Poor little Kathleen, who believed that she had still a loving father
and was the heiress to all his wealth, was in reality orphaned and
penniless--a beggar in reality.
But Ralph Chainey, in the greatness of his noble heart, decided to
spare her the pain of knowing all this yet, and he could see but one
way out of the difficulty--one very agreeable to himself, and not
unkind to the lovely waif so strangely thrown on his protecting care.
He knew well that the selfish Belmonts would refuse to care for the
homeless girl, would deny her identity, refuse to admit her claims on
them. He determined to propose an immediate marriage to Kathleen, by
which her future could be made secure.