KATHLEEN'S DISAPPEARANCE.
"Ay, call her on the barren moor,
And call her on the hill;
'Tis nothing but the heron's cry,
And plover's answer shrill."
Kathleen told her lover, between sobs and tears, while she rested close
in the shelter of his loving arms, all her sad story.
Ralph Chainey listened with bated breath, his eyes dim with moisture,
to the story of Kathleen's persecutions.
"What stupid people they must have been at the asylum not to listen to
your strange story! I will have them indicted for unlawfully detaining
you!" he exclaimed indignantly.
"Never mind that, as they can never find me again," she replied,
happily.
"They could not take you if they did," he answered; and then he
unfolded to her, gently and tenderly, his wish to make her his wife
at once, and asked her if she would consent. "It is the most proper
thing for us to marry at once," he said. "Unfortunately, we can not
be married in Philadelphia without a license, which, as it is near
midnight now, I could not procure until to-morrow. But we can take
a train within the hour for Washington, and be married, without the
necessity of a license, by the first minister we can wake up there. Do
you think you can agree to this, darling?"
She hesitated; she said, anxiously:
"Had we not better go straight to Boston and ask papa's leave? Perhaps
he would not like it if we were married without his consent."
Why did he not tell her the truth--that there was no use in going to
Boston; that her father was dead and she had no home there; that her
step-mother and her selfish daughter had inherited the Carew millions?
He could not bear to inflict this shock upon her so soon. She had
suffered so much already, poor little darling! that he would save her
this added blow for a little while. He could fancy how hard she would
take it, to come back to the world, fatherless, penniless, homeless.
Let him make her his wife first, and she would have love, wealth, and
position almost equal to what she had lost. Then he would have the
right to comfort her with his devotion.
So he began to urge his suit with all a lover's devotion, picturing to
her the possibility of her father's refusal.
"You are so young, dear Kathleen, he might want us to wait years and
years, and there are so many things that might come between our love,"
he urged, anxiously.
She shuddered and thought of Alpine Belmont's cruelty. The remembrance
decided her; she consented to his wish.
They were driven to the station to take the train for Washington.
"In about three hours we shall be there, and then you shall soon be my
little wife," he whispered, joyfully.
They learned that the train was more than an hour late. They went into
the reception-room to wait.
Then it suddenly occurred to him that the members of his company at the
hotel would be so alarmed at his non-appearance that night that they
would think he had been foully dealt with, and raise a great hue and
cry.
He hastened to explain these facts to his lovely, girlish _fiancée_.
"Do you think you would mind staying alone here, long enough for me to
go and excuse myself to them?" he inquired, tenderly.
Her throat ached with the impulse to sob out to him that she was
frightened--that she did not wish for him to leave her there alone.
But she was ashamed of her weakness; she would not confess it to her
bright, handsome lover.
In a low, tremulous voice, and with a sad little smile on her quivering
red lips, she bade him go.
"It is only for a little while, my own little love!" he whispered; but
her heart sunk heavily with fear and dread. He found her a secluded
seat in a dim corner. "You can sit here quietly and unobserved until
I return," he said, and stole a parting kiss from the sweet red lips
that smiled at him with such pathetic love.
Then he was gone, and she no longer tried to check her bursting sobs.
Leaning far back in the corner, her little cobwebby handkerchief was
soon drenched with her raining tears.
She told herself that he would soon return and laugh at her for being
such a great baby, but she could not help it. A terrible presentiment
of coming evil weighed down her spirits.
* * * * *
Ralph Chainey entered a cab and was driven rapidly to his hotel. He
explained that business of great importance called him in haste to
Washington, but that he would return the next day in time for the
evening performance, "Beau Brummel."
Then he drove as fast as possible back to the depot, where his little
darling, as he called her in his fond thoughts, was impatiently
awaiting his return.
"My little darling, so soon to be my adored wife," he murmured, as he
hurried eagerly into the waiting-room, where the second great shock of
his life awaited him.
Kathleen Carew was gone!
He stared with dazed eyes at the empty seat where he had left his
beautiful young sweetheart less than an hour ago.
She was gone!
Then commenced a frantic search that lasted so long that by and by the
train that was to have taken the pair to Washington thundered into the
station and away again, while he still pursued his unavailing quest.