"I WOULD LAY DOWN MY LIFE TO SERVE YOU!" SAID TEDDY.
How was any one to know
That those eyes had looked just so
On a hundred other women with a glance as light and strange?
There are men who change their passions
Even oftener than their fashions
And the best of loving always, to their minds, is still to change.
JOHN T. TROWBRIDGE.
Teddy Darrell had had some adventures in his day, and was not given to
nerves, so he did not let the shock of his discovery overcome him.
The thought flashed over him that some drunken woman had crept into the
cab, unknown to the driver, and fallen into a troubled slumber.
The flaring lanterns on the outside of the cab did not afford much
light, so Teddy struck a match and held it over the face of his unknown
companion.
Then indeed he had a shock much greater than the first one.
The lighted match fell from his hand and he recoiled with a startled
cry.
"Good heavens! what a likeness!"
He sunk upon the opposite seat, actually trembling with surprise and
emotion.
In the pale and lovely face lying unconscious on the cushions the
young man had recognized a haunting likeness to one he had loved very
dearly, and whose tragic fate, six months ago, had thrilled him with
unutterable horror. Although other lovers had succeeded Kathleen in
Teddy's young, impressionable heart, he had never ceased to regret the
fact that she had rejected him.
"The sweetest, loveliest girl in all the world!" he had always thought
of bonny, dark-eyed Kathleen.
And he trembled with pain when he saw in the poor street waif, as he
believed her, the awful likeness to his lost loved one.
Kathleen, who was beginning to recover consciousness, moaned and
stirred, half lifting herself toward the young man.
He bent toward her kindly and said:
"Are you ill, madame?"
That voice! It was one from her happy past. It stirred a pulse in
Kathleen's heart, and she turned toward him wildly, her dark eyes
opening wide upon his anxious face.
The flaring lights from some place of amusement shone into the cab and
showed her his features.
"Teddy Darrell!" she murmured, in a feeble tone of amazement.
"Good heavens! you know me!" he exclaimed. "Who are _you_?"
She held out her white hands to him with an entreating gesture.
"Don't you know me? Don't you remember Kathleen Carew?" she cried,
faintly.
"Kathleen Carew is _dead_!" he answered, blankly.
"No, no; she lives! It was a mistake. I was in a trance, and I escaped
from my coffin and ran away into the woods," whispered the girl,
rapidly regaining the strength to speak.
"Good heavens! So that's what became of you!" cried Teddy Darrell. He
seized her little white hands and pressed them rapturously. "Welcome
back to life, my dear girl!" he laughed, happily, and she exclaimed:
"You know me--you believe me?"
"Of course I do," he replied, joyously. "But how came you to be here in
this cab, alone and unconscious?"
"I do not know," she answered, in a puzzled voice. "I went home, and
mamma told me my father was dead, and that he had disinherited me in
his will. Then she denied my identity, and the last thing I remember I
fell fainting on the carpet. Oh, Mr. Darrell! will you do me one favor?
Take me to my dear friend, Helen Fox."
"Helen Fox is in Europe," he replied, reluctantly.
"In Europe? Oh, good heavens! what am I to do, then? Helen is the only
friend I have to turn to in my distress!" exclaimed the young girl,
clasping her beautiful hands in the keenest despair.
Teddy Darrell looked at her reproachfully.
"You seem to forget _me_, Miss Carew. But I would lay down my life to
serve you!" he exclaimed, impetuously.
She glanced up and met his eyes. They wore the most killing expression
of devotion--and Teddy's dark eyes could be very expressive when he
chose.
Kathleen blushed vividly, and answered:
"I--I--did not know--if I might call you my friend or not. Some
men--might not like a young girl after--after----" She paused in
confusion.
"After she rejected him," finished Teddy, coolly. "Well, I hope I am
not as mean as that, Miss Carew. I shall be only too happy to be your
friend and brother if you will allow me."
"You are too good to me," she whispered, gratefully, as she held out
her little white hand to him, adding, sadly: "'A friend in need is
a friend indeed,' and I am poor in everything now, with not even a
shelter for my head."
"Don't say that," exclaimed the sympathetic young fellow, with a break
in his voice. "I am going to take you to my cousin, one of the kindest
ladies in the world, if you will allow me to do so;" and, pulling the
check-string, he gave the driver orders not to proceed to the opera
house, but to the street where his cousin lived.
Kathleen acquiesced gratefully in his decision. Her heart went out
warmly to this cordial friend, and she regretted in her heart that
she had ever laughed with Helen Fox over the young man's flirting
proclivities.