NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 1174
_THE GIRL HE
LOVED_
[Illustration]
_Adelaide
Stirling_
The Girl He Loved
OR,
WHERE LOVE ABIDES
BY
ADELAIDE STIRLING
Author of “Saved from Herself,” “Her Evil Genius,” “A Forgotten
Love,” “Love and Spite”--published in the NEW EAGLE
SERIES.
[Illustration: S AND S
NOVELS]
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1900
By Street & Smith
The Girl He Loved
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
THE GIRL HE LOVED.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. SWEETHEARTS.
CHAPTER II. THE PERSON IN BLACK.
CHAPTER III. A GIFT OF JUDAS.
CHAPTER IV. “A HORRID OLD MAN!”
CHAPTER V. HER WEDDING-DAY.
CHAPTER VI. A VERY CLEVER PERSON.
CHAPTER VII. HER LADYSHIP SHUFFLES THE CARDS.
CHAPTER VIII. “A BIT OF THE TRUTH.”
CHAPTER IX. REVENGE--AND A BALLROOM.
CHAPTER X. A TIRING DAY.
CHAPTER XI. NEWS OF ADRIAN.
CHAPTER XII. THE ICY BARRIER.
CHAPTER XIII. IN LEVALLION’S HOUSE.
CHAPTER XIV. A DOVE-COLORED GOWN.
CHAPTER XV. A WOMAN’S RING.
CHAPTER XVI. THE SIN OF SYLVIA ANNESLEY.
CHAPTER XVII. THE SEALED LETTER.
CHAPTER XVIII. A GROWING CLOUD OF WITNESSES.
CHAPTER XIX. IN OUTER DARKNESS.
CHAPTER XX. A WICKED WOMAN’S TONGUE.
CHAPTER XXI. WHITE POPPIES OF OBLIVION.
CHAPTER XXII. THE MOONLIGHT PICNIC.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE DARK GLASS.
CHAPTER XXIV. ALONE WITH THE DEAD.
CHAPTER XXV. A DEAD MAN’S SWEETHEART.
CHAPTER XXVI. TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE.
CHAPTER XXVIII. “I SAW--NO ONE!”
CHAPTER XXIX. “WILFUL MURDER.”
CHAPTER XXX. A CLOUD OF BLOOD.
CHAPTER XXXI. A BAD MOVE.
CHAPTER XXXII. A TRIVIAL INCIDENT.
CHAPTER XXXIII. LEVALLION’S HEIR.
CHAPTER XXXIV. “FALSE AS A PACK OF CARDS.”
CHAPTER XXXV. GOOD-BY.
CHAPTER XXXVI. A MOUSE-HOLE.
CHAPTER XXXVII. A GRAY-LINED CLOAK.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. ARRESTED.
CHAPTER XXXIX. MR. JACOBS.
CHAPTER XL. AT THE HINGES OF DEATH.
CHAPTER XLI. “I LOVED YOU BEST.”
CHAPTER I.
SWEETHEARTS.
“Thomas, my son!”
The voice came darkly from the scullery window, and Sir Thomas Annesley
gave a guilty start where he knelt in the kitchen garden.
“Oh! It’s you!” he cried, with relief. “I thought it might be her
ladyship, and I didn’t want her.”
He hastily covered in a small grave he was making in the parsley-bed,
and his sister poked her bronze head from the open window with some
curiosity.
“What are you doing?” she inquired.
“Oh, nothing! Just putting away something. There is nothing like a hole
in the ground. What on earth are you doing in the scullery?” eying the
unwonted smartness of as much of Miss Ravenel Annesley’s toilet as was
visible. “What have you got on your Sunday frock for? Have you been
blacking the family boots in it?”
“If it’s anything to eat you’ve buried, the cats will dig it up again!”
loftily ignoring his question, except for a guilty glance at her lilac
muslin gown.
“No cat”--calmly--“will dig this up, for I’m going to do it myself
first! Come out, why don’t you?”
“I’m coming.” Miss Annesley vaulted nimbly from the window with much
display of her only pair of black silk stockings. “You don’t see her
ladyship anywhere, do you, Tommy? Because I’ve an--an errand in the
quarry, and I don’t want her to sniff it out.”
“She can’t sniff a quarter of a mile”--comfortably. “She’s gone down to
sit by the lake without any hat; said she had neuralgia. But I know
she’s gone to bleach her golden hair.”
“She does bleach her hair,” Ravenel remarked thoughtfully. “It was the
most awful color yesterday--a sort of green! I heard her giving it to
the Umbrella for making a mistake.”
Sir Thomas Annesley lit a contraband cigarette.
“And yet,” he said blandly, “it was not the Umbrella who changed the
bottle! Her ladyship kicked Mr. Jacobs, and any one who kicks my dog
has misfortunes. I’ll walk over to the quarry with you!” affably.
“No, Tommy dear!” with guilty haste. “I--I don’t require you.”
Sir Thomas coughed.
“Don’t blame me then if her ladyship sends the old Umbrella all over
the country for you when you’re missed. I’ll have to kill that maid
some day! Do you know, she listens at the door when we’re alone?”
“Much good she’ll get!” contemptuously, marching on under the
blossoming apple-trees with the sun flecking the lovely bronze of her
hair with red gold. “Look here, Tommy, you come as far as the hedge,
and just give a cooee if you see the Umbrella or her ladyship.”
“Can’t. I’m going over to the barracks to see Gordon.”
“I wouldn’t! It would be”--she was not looking at him--“a waste of
time.”
“Oh!” Sir Thomas winked vulgarly, as he observed a lovely carnation
grow and deepen in his sister’s cheeks. “I see. Well, go on, my dear!
I don’t blame you; only,” in hasty addition as they reached the hedge,
“keep your eye peeled. The Umbrella is active, and also far-sighted.
I don’t recommend the quarry myself; it is too like being a mouse in
a bowl. Give me a wood for such undertakings! And mind you’re back
by dinner, for if her ladyship sees you sneaking in with your Sunday
blouse on she’ll put two and two together. Meantime, I’ve gone over to
the barracks to see Gordon. You mind that when you come home!”
“You’re a duck, Thomas, some day I’ll reward you,” returned the vision
in mauve muslin, disappearing with some pains through the whitethorn
hedge.
But Sir Thomas only grunted. He approved of his sister’s adorer
because Lady Annesley did not, but he privately considered that meeting
a handsome, penniless hussar was wasting time.
“However, Mr. Jacobs,” he observed, as that disreputable bull-terrier
joined him, “anything for business, and we’re growing old. And it is my
belief that my lady wants to marry Ravenel to that old Lord Levallion,
and I’ll see her blowed first.”
He sat down on the bank at the foot of the hedge and pulled his hat
over his eyes. They were worldly wise eyes for a boy of sixteen; but to
have Lady Annesley for a stepmother was a liberal education. Old Sir
Thomas had married her in haste, and, fortunately for himself, had died
too soon to have time to repent at leisure. He was poor; his new wife
had been supposed to be rich; but her fortune turned out to be about
as real as her complexion--there was just enough of it to swear by.
Annesley Chase was mortgaged too deeply for the widow’s small income
even to pay the interest; when young Sir Thomas came of age it would be
foreclosed and sold over his head, unless money came from the skies.
And yet Lady Annesley, even while she sat and saw the interest piling
up against her, had no idea of letting Annesley Chase go. A snug old
age in the dower-house appearing to her more inviting than spending her
declining years in a semidetached villa, she was even now taking steps
to secure it by the simple scheme of a rich marriage for Ravenel, and
later and harder, for Sir Thomas. In the meantime, she provided the
stepchildren, who were her only stock in trade, with bread and butter.
Thin bread and thinner butter, perhaps; but still she fed them. And
they hated her cordially--Ravenel from having seen her father’s last
days made wretched; Tommy from a far-sighted distrust that grew on him
every day.
But Ravenel just now had no thoughts for her stepmother, nor of how
she was improving the long hours of the May afternoon. Over the short
grass of the field above the quarry pits she was walking with the air
of one having an infinity of time and no particular destination. Her
heart might be galloping before her, but it was not good for captains
of hussar regiments to know it. She sailed on demurely under the shade
of an ivory-white parasol--it was one of Lady Annesley’s, and her
stepdaughter hoped devoutly there would not be a hue and cry for it
while it was out--as if she had not a care in the world. Yet a sharp
color came to her clear cheeks as she neared the quarry pit.
Suppose he had not come!
The thought made her feel chilly in the warm May sunshine. For one
breathless moment she was afraid to lift her eyes from the short grass
lest she might look in vain for Adrian Gordon. And so nearly walked
over him where he lay stretched on the warm, green sod at the edge of
the quarry.
Miss Annesley dropped her pirated parasol.
“Oh!” she cried, as he sprang to his feet. “I nearly walked over you.”
“Tread lightly then, for my heart is under your feet,” quoted the man,
with a little laugh of pure pleasure. He took both her hands and looked
down into her gray-blue eyes.
“I began to think, Miss Annesley,” he remarked gravely, “that you were
not coming. Another ten minutes and I should have walked up to your
hall door and paid a polite visit,” his strong, fine hands holding hers
with utter content.
The girl looked up at him where he stood bareheaded, the sun on his
close-cropped, fair hair. How tanned and strong and good to look at he
was! And how sweet his gray eyes and his mouth under his fair mustache.
He caught her hands a little closer.
“You see,” he said; “you were just saved having to receive me under her
ladyship’s nose. I would have braved even her tea rather than have gone
back without seeing you.” He stooped to pick up her parasol, and she
drew her hands from his left one that held them both.
“It wouldn’t have been any good your coming in state,” she returned
calmly. “You would only have had ‘not at home’ said to you. Her
ladyship is engaged to-day in renovating her charms.”
“I should have met you at the door if I’d started when I first thought
of it! Would you have sent me away?” seating himself beside her in the
shade of a flower-filled thorn-tree on the sharp slope down to the
quarry. “I believe you would!” rather dashed.
“I should not, for an excellent reason. I didn’t come by the front
door, but out of the scullery window,” gaily. “Her ladyship supposes
I’m darning table-cloths. I’ve left Tommy down by the hedge to warn me
if my flight is discovered.”
The laughter left Captain Gordon’s handsome eyes. He laid his brown
hand on Ravenel’s white one.
“Tell me, my Nel,” he said softly; “do you love me, ever so little?”
“No!” very low. “Ever so little!” Did she not love him with all her
soul and body, as she loved no one else in God’s world?
“How much do you love me? That much?” measuring off a tiny space with
her two hands, for he had them both now, and Lady Annesley’s lace
parasol had rolled where it would down the quarry.
“Not at all?”
“Not at all,” but she barely whispered it.
“Do you mean that, Nel?” he was whispering, too. “Because I love
you--oh, you know how I love you!” he let her hands go. “Tell me,
quick, do you mean it?”
Miss Annesley made no answer, only raised her eyes to his for the
briefest instant. But it was long enough for Adrian Gordon.
“Sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her. “Nel, look at me; won’t you kiss
me?”
“I--I don’t know.” But she did look at him, and, somehow, without
either of their wills, their lips met. And at that long, gentle touch
of the man’s lips on hers Ravenel Annesley gave her heart and her soul
to his keeping, forever.
“My sweet,” he said, letting her go, “do you know, I’ve no right to ask
you to marry me? I’ve no money.”
“Neither have I,” gaily. “Would you like to be off your bargain?”
“Don’t say it!” quickly. “It hurts too much. But money I must and will
have to marry you. I mean the girl of my heart to have all she wants
in this world--gowns and horses and happiness. It would kill me to see
you as I’ve seen the wives of lots of poor men. Can you wait for me,
sweet, for two years, while I go out to India?”
“India! What for?” the color left her face.
“Well! I’ve a second cousin, who has some influence. He’s not a man
I like much, but he surprised me the other day by telling me that
a friend of his out in India would offer me an appointment on his
staff--he’s a general--if it were certain I’d accept. I--I said I
would. It’s more than three times the pay I’m getting now and a chance
in a thousand to get on in the service. I’d have to leave my regiment,
but I’d do that--for you.”
“Adrian--not now!” she whispered. “We’re so happy.” Her heart fairly
turned over at the thought of Annesley Chase without Adrian Gordon
quartered ten miles off, of the long, empty summer days.
“We’ll be as happy again,” he answered wistfully, “and the sooner I go
the sooner I’ll be back. But I wouldn’t go at all if I saw any other
way. I’m afraid to leave you with your stepmother.”
“She can’t marry me out offhand to a slug or a snail, and those are the
only visitors we ever have. My charms”--dryly--“have doubtless not yet
been noised abroad.”
“I believe you wish they had been!” quite as dryly. “You’re a bundle of
vanity, Miss Annesley, and I believe you’ve got a temper--and you’re
proud----” he paused eloquently.
“Go on,” returned his charmer calmly. “Don’t mind me! And when you’re
done I’ll tell you what I am--quite good enough for you!”
Her eyes met his with sweet insolence, fearless for all their softness,
and the man’s face changed.
“You’re too good, that’s one thing,” he said slowly. “And for another,
you’re too proud. I know you! If anything went wrong between us, and it
was my fault, you’d never give me a chance to explain.”
Ravenel looked at him, as he sat beside her, with the May sun full on
his face, that was meant to be fair, but was turned a clear pale-bronze
by wind and weather; full on his tawny, gold mustache, and the
clear-cut lines of his cheek and chin. Strong and cold and proud that
face was, till you looked at the man’s eyes or saw him smile. But now
he was not smiling, and a quick pang caught at the girl’s heart. Adrian
Gordon to talk of pride!
She flung out both her hands to him, as she had never done before.
“Listen!” she cried passionately. “It’s you who are proud; not I!
Offend me, and I will give you all the chances on earth to explain; but
you--oh, I don’t believe you would ever forgive anything.”
Her eyes, that had been so gay, so full of sweet mockery, were brimming
with tears, and Gordon caught her to him jealously.
“There will never anything come between us,” he said as he kissed her,
“not between the girl I love and me!”