Left alone, Marcia, weary and spent, collapsed into a chair and closed
her eyes, appearing to forget the presence of the girl who, with parted
lips, hovered impatiently at her elbow.
Something in the woman's aloofness not only discouraged speech but
rendered any interruption an intrusion.
At length, however, she roused herself and sighing deeply looked about,
and taking the gesture as permission to break the silence, the torrent
of words Sylvia had until now held in check, broke from her:
"Was it true, Marcia--what they said about Uncle Jason I mean? Was it
true?"
"I'm afraid so, dear."
"But you never told me; and you never told Mother, either. Of course I
see why. You didn't want her to know because it would have broken her
heart. So you kept it all to yourself. You did not mean I should find it
out, did you?"
"Not if I could help it."
Sylvia knelt, taking the cold hands in hers.
"I hate him!" cried she fiercely. "I hate him for making you unhappy and
spoiling your life!"
"Hush, child. Jason has not spoiled my life," contradicted Marcia with a
grave, sad smile.
"But he has scarred it--dashed to pieces all the dreams you started out
with--those beautiful dreams a girl has when she is young. I know what
they are, for I dream them myself sometimes. They are lovely, delicate
things. We never quite expect they will come true; yet for all that we
believe in them. I know you had such fancies once, for you are the sort
who would. And Jason came and trampled on them--"
"He made me see life as it was. Perhaps it was better I should."
"We all have to see life as it is sooner or later. But there are plenty
of years ahead in which to do it. The man who destroys the world of
illusion in which a girl lives destroys something no one can ever give
back to her."
"I don't know that I should say that," returned Marcia with a faint,
shadowy smile as if pursuing some secret, intriguing fancy.
"But it's never the same again, I mean--never the same."
"No, it's never the same," agreed the woman soberly.
"Was Jason as bad as they said, Marcia? Ah, you don't have to answer.
There is no need for you to try to reconcile your desire to spare
me--spare him--with the truth. He was as bad--probably much worse. Dear,
dear Marcia." Impulsively Sylvia bent her lips to the hands so tightly
clasped in hers. "I cannot imagine," she rushed on, "why, when one of
my family had made you as wretched as he did, you should have wanted
another in the house. Had I suffered so I should never have wished to
lay eyes on any more Howes as long as I lived."
"But Jason had nothing to do with you, Sylvia."
"The same blood ran in our veins."
"Perhaps that was the reason."
"Because you could forgive, you mean?" whispered Sylvia. "You are a
better Christian than I, my dear. I could never have forgiven."
"I have tried not only to forgive but to forget. I have closed the door
on the past and begun a new life."
"And now into it has come this Stanley Heath," the girl said.
For the fraction of a second Marcia did not reply; then almost inaudibly
she murmured:
"Yes."
Sylvia slipped one of her strong young arms about the bowed shoulders.
"It just seems as if I could not bear it," she burst out passionately.
"Sylvia, look at me. Tell me the truth. Do you, too, love Stanley
Heath?"
"I?"
"Was that the reason you fought against Elisha's finding the jewels?
Tell me. I must know."
"No," she answered without hesitation. "At first he did fascinate me. He
is a fascinating person. An older man always fascinates a younger girl
if he has charm. I changed my mind, though, later on. Not because on
acquaintance he became less charming. It wasn't that. If anything, he
became more so. I just--just--changed my mind," she repeated, avoiding
Marcia's eyes. "As for the jewels, I could not bear to let that little
runt of a sheriff win out. You see, I thought the gems were there under
the brick and that when you urged him to search, you did not know it.
"I had known all along they were in the house, for I stumbled upon them
by accident one day when I was here alone; but I had no idea you had. I
truly believed Mr. Heath had hidden them beneath the hearth, and I was
determined Elisha should not find them."
"I knew they weren't there."
"You'd moved them? Put them somewhere else?"
"No, indeed. Didn't you hear me tell Elisha I did not know where they
were?"
"Oh, of course. But you'd have said that anyway," smiled Sylvia,
dimpling.
"Why--why, Sylvia!"
"You certainly wouldn't have let those men find them," she added
comfortably.
"On the contrary, if the jewels had been in the house and I had been
compelled to tell what I knew, I should have told the truth."
"You would? You would have showed those two miserable blood-hounds where
they were?" asked the girl incredulously.
"Certainly."
"I wouldn't," flashed Sylvia, clinching her small hands. "I would have
fought that sheriff tooth and nail. I'd have lied--stooped to any means
to prevent him from unearthing the evidence he was after."
"But the law, Sylvia--the law."
"I wouldn't give a rap for the law. You love Stanley Heath. That's
enough for me. Besides, he is being tracked down--trapped. I want him to
go free."
"You think he took the jewels?" asked Marcia, slowly.
"Certainly I do. Don't you?"
"No."
"But, Marcia, can't you see how plain it all is? I know it is terrible
for you, dear. It almost breaks my heart. It is an awful thing to
believe of anybody--harder still of a person one loves. Nevertheless,
we must face the facts. People do not carry such things about with
them--especially men. He came by them in no honest way, you may be sure
of that. Hasn't he told you anything?--haven't you asked him?"
"I wouldn't think of asking him," Marcia replied with a lift of her
chin.
"And he has not volunteered any information?"
"No."
"Most men, if honest and caught in such an odd situation, would
explain," continued Sylvia. "The very fact that Mr. Heath has not is
suspicious in itself. He is guilty, Marcia--guilty."
"I do not believe it," was the stubborn protest.
"I realize, dear, it is hard for you to own it," soothed Sylvia. "We
hate to admit the faults of those we--we--care for. Still, nothing is to
be gained by remaining blind to them."
"You speak as if such a sin were a mere trivial flaw of character,
Sylvia. Why, it is fundamental--a crime."
"How can we measure sins and decide which ones are big and which little?
Perhaps Mr. Heath was horribly tempted to commit this one. We do not
know. We are not his judges. The thing for us to do is to help him out
of the mess he is in."
"Help him?"
"Get him off. Aid him to escape."
"Believing him guilty--you would do that?"
"Surely I would."
"You mean you would help him to evade the law? The punishment such
wrongdoing merits?"
Emphatically, Sylvia nodded her curls.
"I'd help him to get away from those who are tracking him down just as
I'd help a fox to escape from the hunters."
"Regardless of right or wrong?"
"Yes. To give him a sporting chance, the start of those who are after
him. You love Stanley Heath. Don't you want to see him go free?"
"Not if he is guilty."
"Marcia! You mean you would deliver him over to the law?"
"I would have him deliver himself over."
"As if he would! As if any criminal would."
"A criminal who thought of his soul might."
"But criminals don't think of their souls, dear. They think only of
their bodies--that's probably why they are criminals."
Marcia made no answer.
"Well, anyway, nobody is going to round up Mr. Heath if I can prevent
it," asserted Sylvia, throwing back her head. "If you won't help him get
away, I will. He must go in the boat--now--today."
"The boat has gone."
"Gone!"
"Mr. Currier arrived this morning after you had gone and took the boat
back to New York with him."
"And the jewels?"
"Yes, the jewels, too."
"Humph! So that's where they are!"
"Yes."
"Pretty cute of him to make so neat a get-away!" commented the girl with
admiration. "Currier is, of course, the understudy--the accomplice."
Marcia started.
"What sort of man was he? A gentleman, like Mr. Heath?"
The older woman colored.
"Well, no. At least he--he--. Oh, he was polite and had a nice manner--a
quiet voice--"
"But he was different from Mr. Heath--an inferior--one who took orders,"
interrupted Sylvia.
"I hardly know. I saw very little of him," Marcia replied guardedly.
"But Mr. Heath did tell him what to do. Currier did as he said."
"I suppose so--yes."
"In other words, he is the hands and Mr. Heath the brains of the team."
"How can you, Sylvia?"
Quivering, Marcia shrunk into her chair as if she had been struck.
"Because I must, Marcia--because we must both look this affair in the
face. Confess the circumstances are suspicious."
"They seem to be," she owned with reluctance.
"They are suspicious."
"That proves nothing."
"Perhaps not. Nevertheless it is all we have to go by and we should be
fools not to take them at their face value, shouldn't we? We should at
least consider them."
"Of course we should do that," evaded the woman.
"Have you considered them?" Sylvia suddenly inquired.
Marcia drew her hand across her forehead.
"I--I--yes. I have thought them over."
"And what conclusion have you arrived at?"
"I don't understand them at all. Nevertheless, I do not believe Stanley
Heath is guilty," was the proud retort.
"That is because you don't want to--because you won't."
"Leave it at that, then, and say I won't," cried Marcia, leaping
defiantly to her feet.
"You are making a great mistake, if you will pardon me for saying so,"
Sylvia responded gently. "You are deliberately closing your eyes and
mind to facts that later are bound to cause you bitter unhappiness.
Let alone the man's guilt. He has a wife. You seem to forget that. As
Elisha Winslow remarked, you have already been miserable once. Why be so
a second time? Help Stanley Heath to get out of Wilton and forget him."
"I cannot do either of those things. In the first place, I have given
my word to hand Mr. Heath over to the authorities. As for forgetting
him--why ask the impossible?"
Sylvia's patience gave way.
"Go your own way then," she snapped. "Go your own way and if by and by
you regret it--as you surely will--do not blame me. Don't blame me,
either, if I do not agree with you. Stanley Heath shall never remain
here and be betrayed to the law. I've enough mercy in me to prevent that
if you haven't. Stick to your grim old puritanism if you must. I'll beat
it by a more charitable creed. I'll help him get away."
She started toward the stairway.
"Sylvia, come back here!" Marcia cried.
"I shall not come back."
"I beg you! Insist!"
The command fell on deaf ears.
Marcia rushed after her, but it was too late.
Sylvia was gone.