CHAPTER XXXVII.
LOVE TRIUMPHANT
"My fair lady's a dear, dear lady;
I walked by her side to woo,
In a garden alley so sweet and shady;
She answered, 'I love not you;
Pray now, pray now, go your way now, do!'"
"Yet my fair lady's my own, own lady,
For I passed another day;
While making her moan she sat all alone,
Do now, do now, once more woo now, do!"
—Jean Ingelow.
Earle Winans, acting on his mother's hints, had wasted no time in the prosecution of his love-affair and he did not lack a friend in Lord Chester.
Consequently a strategic movement had brought about a communication between the estranged lovers, and Earle's tender letter, avowing his renewed love for Ladybird, brought a repentant one from his darling that placed everything on a very desirable footing, except that it was impossible for them to meet. Mr. Stanley's ward was guarded as jealously as any prisoner, and but for a servant in the house, who was open to bribery, the letters of the young lovers would never have reached them.
However, in spite of the opposing fates, Earle and Arthur had planned a coup de main which, with Ladybird's consent, was successfully carried out.
Aura Stanley was still too much in love with Earle Winans to reject the dainty basket of roses that arrived one morning by messenger with a note asking leave to call that evening, and signed duly by Lord Chester and Earle.
"They think they will see Ladybird, but I will outwit them," she thought angrily, and replied by giving them permission to call.
Mrs. Stanley was charged not to let her weary little slave escape from her couch that evening.
"Make her read aloud to you, mamma, or bathe your forehead with camphor—anything, so that she does not get a moment downstairs," Aura said imperiously, before going down in her magnificent crimson silk gown, in which she hoped to capture Earle's admiration if not his heart.
And she thought she was succeeding when she saw how his eyes lingered on her, and noted his smiles when she adroitly referred to "last summer, when they had been such friends, before that little misunderstanding."
He smiled and he said yes, but in a noncommittal way that was rather puzzling. However, she thought they were really getting on nicely, and was proud of the sociability of her visitors, building high hopes for the future, when suddenly a startling peal on the door-bell was followed by the information that Mr. Winans was wanted at once on important business, by some person unknown.
With profuse apologies to Aura for the interruption to their call, the young gentlemen took their leave and went out to their waiting carriage, leaving Aura alone in the parlor, to dream rosy dreams of the future, evoked by the smiles of that arch-deceiver, Earle Winans.
But in the midst of her rosy vision a servant appeared at the door with the startling announcement:
"Miss Conway's compliments to you, miss, and she has gone away to marry Mr. Winans."
"What do you mean?" Aura wildly gasped; and the man, evidently in the secret, smiled broadly and replied:
"Just as I was letting the callers out at the door Miss Conway came flying down the stairs in her hat and jacket, and Mr. Winans took her hand and drew it in his arm. Then she laughed and gave me that message for you, and all three went away in the carriage together."
"Go! find my father! Bring him home instantly!" shrieked Aura, white with fury. Then she flew upstairs to her mother and blurted out the shocking news.
"Ladybird has gone away with Earle Winans to marry him—eloped!—and I told you not to let her out of your sight!" she raved, wringing her jeweled hands in angry despair.
Mrs. Stanley sat up in bed, the picture of dismay.
"Oh, Aura, I couldn't help it. All was going on well, and she was bathing my head—she had said she was too nervous to read—when suddenly that loud noise at the door made her drop the camphor bottle and spill every drop. She jumped up, and saying: 'Oh, excuse me, but I must see what that noise is about,' ran out, and that was the last I saw of the deceitful little jade!"
"Oh, if papa were only here, he could bring her back—couldn't he, mamma?"
"No, Aura, for of course they would be married in about ten minutes after they left here. You know Washington is the easiest place in the world to get married in! All the young runaway lovers come here to get married. Of course those deceitful wretches had everything planned for this escape. They must have exchanged letters somehow. You may depend on it, Aura, that Ladybird is Mrs. Winans by now. She has outwitted us, in spite of all our care!"
It was true, as Mrs. Stanley said, Ladybird was Earle's bride now, for every arrangement had been made for the marriage, and they drove straight to the rectory of their favorite minister and were made one, with his sympathetic family and smiling Lord Chester for witnesses. Ten minutes afterward the little bridal party walked into the Winans' drawing-room where the family were entertaining a few friends.
"Mamma, kiss your new daughter," Earle said gayly, as he led Ladybird to his mother.
"It was an elopement, and I was best man at the marriage," explained Lord Chester to the company in general.
No lovely, blushing bride ever received a more joyous welcome into her husband's family than did our charming Ladybird. They received her literally with open arms.
The story of the elopement having been gone over, the bride was carried off to exchange her dark silk and sealskin sacque for a soft white gown belonging to Precious. The maid brought pearls for her neck and white flowers for her corsage and hair.
"Now you look more like a bride," declared her delighted sister-in-law, "Mamma shall buy you a trousseau to-morrow, for of course those dreadful people will keep all your nice things for spite. But never mind, they're welcome to them, for Earle is rich in his own right, you know, darling."
"I shouldn't care if he was poor as a churchmouse, I love him so dearly!" cried the radiant little bride, and she laughed gayly out of her happy heart at Aura's terrible discomfiture, and fancied how she must be scolding her sick mother for letting the captive escape.
"Now let us go back to the company," said Precious, and they returned arm in arm, both so beautiful in their white robes that every eye turned on them in delight.
But they were scarcely seated before Lord Chester looked around and said gravely:
"I have another surprise for you all."
And as they listened to him in amazement he continued:
"I received a cablegram from my father to-day, and he announces that the claimant has gained the suit, while he and I have lost wealth and title, and remain only loyal British subjects."
Murmurs of surprise and sympathy arose all around him, but he looked only at Ethel's pale, startled face and in a moment he said to her lightly but with underlying earnestness:
"You have only three days left, Ethel, in which to decide whether it was the man or the title you wished to marry."
She only smiled in reply.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE SHIP THAT NEVER RETURNED
"If he had known that when her hand lay still,
Pulseless, so near his own,
It was because pain's bitter, bitter chill
Changed her to very stone.
"If he had known that she had borne so much
For sake of the sweet past,
That mere despair said, 'This cold look and tone
Must be the cruel last.'"
—Frances Hodgson Burnett.
The news of Lord Chester's loss of title and wealth spread very quickly, and in the shallow circles of society, where money and position rate higher than brains and worth, much commiseration was felt for brilliant Ethel Winans, who had hoped so soon to be Lady Chester. There were sneers, too, for of course envious people were delighted at Ethel's disappointment.
But the cards for the marriage were out, the arrangements made for a grand reception, after which the bridal pair were to leave for Europe. The plans remained unchanged still, and nobody was to be disappointed in the grand show to which they looked forward with such eager interest. The Winans family monopolized public interest now, for in addition to Ethel's affair there was Earle's elopement with that lovely fairy, Ladybird Conway. Some pretty society belles were bitterly disappointed over his marriage, as well as Aura Stanley, but they had to smile and bear it. And when they saw the lovely bride they could not blame him for his choice. She was the most piquant little beauty that ever wiled a man's heart away.
But a cruel pang came to the young bride's heart on the very day after her marriage, for the uncertainty that hung like a dark cloud over her father's fate became at last absolute conviction of his death.
On that day there came to Mrs. Winans from the captain of a newly arrived steamer in New York a letter and a package.
The package contained a thick glass bottle and within it was a closely written letter addressed to Senator Winans and his wife. The sea-captain's letter informed Mrs. Winans that the bottle had been picked up at sea during his voyage. It had been securely sealed and on opening, was found to contain a letter from the missing Mamaroneck, and gave tidings of her almost certain fate.
With a shaking hand Mrs. Winans held the letter whose writing was so familiar, and read above Bruce Conway's signature the words he had penned to his dearest friends on earth, as he fondly called them.
"On Board the Mamaroneck, }
July 20th, 189—. }
"My Dearest Friends:—On the eve of a calamity that means nothing less than death, I write to you and commend to your care my beloved daughter Lulu.
"In my will, made some time ago, I left the remainder of a much depleted fortune to my daughter, and made my lawyer, Mr. Stanley, of Rosemont, her guardian. But latterly I have questioned the wisdom of my action in this matter. I am not certain of the man's probity. What if he prove unjust to my daughter, faithless to my charge? In the light of these doubts and fears I revoke that will, and hereby declare this my last will and testament.
"To you, Paul Winans, whom I admire as the soul of honor and rectitude, and to your wife, the noblest of living women, I leave in trust my daughter and her fortune, the former a priceless jewel, the latter less than it should be, for I have lost heavily in speculations; but there still remains the splendid estate at Ocean View, inherited from my aunt, my wife's jewels, worth twenty thousand dollars, and some United States bonds to the value of fifteen thousand dollars. All these are unincumbered by any debts, and are in the Rosemont Bank, unless removed ere this by Mr. Stanley, who, in case he has done so, will place them in your charge for my daughter. Until she marries let her home be with you, and let her share, I pray you, in the tender love you lavish on your own dear children. Once I dreamed that the attachment between her and Earle might culminate in a union that would bring both of them great happiness. Ladybird's own folly wrecked my hopes. Tell Earle to forgive her. She was but a willful child then, but she had a heart of gold.
"But time presses, for danger looms immediately before the doomed passengers of the Mamaroneck. For two weeks we have been sailing among a floe of icebergs, fifty in number, and our destruction is inevitable. It is a ghastly fleet of death. We have no chance of escape, for the berg nearest to us now will prove our destruction. It is estimated at fifteen miles in length and seven hundred feet in height. We have resigned ourselves to death with brave hearts.
"I shall commit this letter to the sea in a sealed bottle, praying Heaven that it may reach your hands. To all your lovely family, and to my beloved daughter, I leave all my heart, and hope to meet you all hereafter in that better land where I shall rest after being hurled violently from earth-life by the approaching horror.
"Bruce Conway."
To the letter were appended as witnesses the names of the Mamaroneck's captain and several passengers, well-known New Yorkers. There could be no doubt of its authenticity, and all hope was at an end. Since the writing of that letter months had elapsed, and there remained no longer a doubt of Ladybird's orphanage.
Lawyer Stanley, who was preparing to make a great bluster over the abduction of his ward, was speedily cowed when confronted with this unexpected testimony from the dead. He was only too glad to make terms with Senator Winans for silence as to his villainy by making restitution of the fortune he had stolen from Ladybird, including the jewels in which Aura had strutted her little day on the social stage. The schemer was foiled and had to turn her attention to other plans for making a rich marriage.
And what of Ethel?—beautiful Ethel, who had dreamed of wearing a coronet on her haughty brow, but who after all would only be the bride of an English gentleman of small fortune and high birth!
Only God and Ethel knew of the night in which she did battle with her own heart, going over and over in her mind Arthur's words, half-gay, half-earnest:
"You have only three days in which to decide whether it was the man or the title you wished to marry."
The words rang in her ears all night, and his look was always before her eyes.
It did not take three days for her to decide. Twelve hours were long enough.
When he came for his usual morning call next day, Ethel met him alone in a pretty little room where they often sat together.
She had never looked more beautiful, but she was very, very pale, so much so that as he touched her slender hand he exclaimed anxiously:
"How pale you look, Ethel, and your dear hand is icy-cold. Are you ill, dear?"
"I did not rest well last night," she replied evasively.
He stood still, with her hand still carelessly clasped in his, studying her face with anxious eyes, and with a half-sigh, he exclaimed:
"You were grieving perhaps over my loss of rank and fortune!"
"Yes," she replied frankly, and drew her hand away so gently that he scarcely noticed it.
Ethel's dark head drooped a little as if in shame, and she murmured hoarsely:
"Arthur, you will despise me when you learn the truth. I—I—am very ambitious. I valued your rank and fortune highly. I had set my heart on having a title. But I loved you, too, or—thought I did. But now I find–"
She paused, unable to continue for a moment, and Arthur, looking steadily at her, began to comprehend her drift.
He began to despise her, but he would not help her out by one poor word.
He saw the white hands writhing in and out of each other, saw her look at him quickly, then drop her eyes again, but he did not dream what was in that swift look, the momentary hope, the succeeding despair.
She found her voice and continued:
"All is altered now, and I—oh, Arthur, forgive me, but—I cannot marry you now!"
It was a frightened gasp, and she grew pale as her snowy morning gown, as she stole another glance at his face.
It was cold, proud, angry. She had given his self-esteem a cruel blow, and stricken down his faith in her at one fell stroke.
"You despise me!" she faltered, and he answered icily:
"Do you not deserve it?"
"Yes," she murmured deeply. "My love was a poor thing, Arthur. It could not stand the test of your loss of rank and fortune. But you will not grieve for me. It was a lucky escape to lose a bride who lived only for ambition as I do. But—there is another with a truer heart than mine. Go to her, Arthur—to Precious—you can win her love, and she will make you happy."
He turned from her with scorn.
"Take your freedom, Miss Winans—you are welcome to it," he said bitterly, and hurried from the room; his heart swelling with wounded pride. He had never really loved her, but he had admired and respected her so much that he recoiled in pain from the knowledge that she had never really loved him at all and that she was at heart cold, scheming, and ambitious—a woman to throw aside a lover like a worn-out glove!
CHAPTER XXXIX.
"FAIR LOT THAT MAIDENS CHOOSE."
"To hear, to heed, to wed,
And with thy lord depart
In tears that he as soon as shed,
Will let no longer smart.
Thy mother's lot, my dear,
She doth in naught accuse;
Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear,
To love—and then to lose!"
—Jean Ingelow.
Arthur sought Senator Winans in the library, where he was discussing Bruce Conway's letter with his wife, and as calmly as he could he told them of Ethel's decision.
They were startled, dismayed. The great statesman paled with shame and anger. While his wife wept he raved in impotent fury.
"That a daughter of mine could have been willing to sell herself for a coronet, and to shirk the bargain like this in the eyes of all the world!—it is infamous, detestable! I will not permit it; she shall marry you! Wait here, Arthur, until I bring her to reason!" he exclaimed, starting to the door.
"No, no," and two white hands clasped his arm and held him back. "No, Paul, you must not go to Ethel. Arthur does not want an unwilling bride!"
"No, never!" cried the young man proudly. "Remain, senator, for I am quite satisfied. My pride is wounded more than my heart. I shall soon get over the blow."
"I will never forgive Ethel!" cried the angry senator. "She has shamed her mother and me before the whole world. People will point the finger of scorn at her and at us. She has always been proud and strange, this girl; but I did not dream she was so ignoble at heart. Henceforth, she can be a daughter only in name to me, for she has forfeited both love and respect. Oh, how different it would have been had you loved my favorite daughter instead of heartless Ethel! Precious would only have loved you the better for your misfortunes!"
Arthur held up his hand suddenly with an entreating gesture.
"Senator—and you, Mrs. Winans—will you permit me to make a confession to you?" he asked humbly, eagerly, and all in a breath he confessed the love for Precious that he had been struggling against for weary months because his troth belonged to queenly Ethel.
Senator Winans was confused, amazed. His wife sobbed quietly without looking up, and then Arthur said pleadingly:
"So all has happened for the best, and I bear no grudge against Miss Winans. I would have made her a good husband, but at heart I should have felt myself a traitor. Ah, senator, will you give me your permission to speak to Precious?"
"We cannot give Precious to any one," faltered the senator's wife.
"Hush, darling, or Arthur will think we are mercenary, like Ethel. Arthur shall have his chance with the rest, for we cannot hope to keep our darling from loving some one and making him happy as you did me, dear Gracie; so he may woo and win Precious if he can."
"I shall speak to her at once," cried the young lover in a tremor of joy, and turning to the door saw Precious standing on the threshold just entering.
Ethel had told her the truth with a careless smile; and full of indignation over her sister's cruelty, she had come to seek her parents.
But when she saw Arthur she drew back embarrassed.
"I—I—thought you were gone!" she murmured blushingly.
"No," he answered, and took her hand and drew her forward, saying: "Precious, I have been making a confidant of your parents. They know that Ethel has jilted me, and they have been told also how my heart strayed from her to you. I love you still, and they have given me leave to tell you so. Ah, Precious, there is no barrier between us now, and your heart may speak. Can you learn to love me now, or are you ambitious, like Ethel?"
At the name of Ethel the blue eyes flashed, and Precious held out her hand impulsively, exclaiming:
"Ethel has treated you wickedly, cruelly; so why should I deny that I love you, Arthur? I will never forgive her for being so heartless, and I love you the better for all your misfortunes!"
Senator Winans and his wife kindly turned their heads aside just then, for they could not blame Arthur for kissing their charming daughter.
Then he led her to her mother, who embraced her and sighed:
"This is so sudden it cannot be real. Are you sure you love Arthur, my darling?"
"I have loved him ever since he saved my life, mamma; but he belonged to Ethel, and so I tried to overcome my heart. But I am very glad Ethel did not care for him any more, for now I may love him without shame."
"And you can marry me on Thursday instead of Ethel!" exclaimed the happy lover in a burst of hopeful confidence.
"Oh, Arthur, you take one's breath away with your hasty plans!" laughed Precious, while her mother clasped her tighter, as though this bold lover were going to kidnap Precious at that very moment.
But Arthur persisted:
"My passage and Ethel's are taken on the steamer for Thursday, and my father expects me. He is old and weak, and I do not like to disappoint him. Precious and I are very much in love with each other, and we have still two days to court in, so why should we not carry out the original programme, with the one exception of changed brides? It would make me very happy."
Mrs. Winans and Precious offered quick demurrers, but to their surprise Senator Winans joined forces with Arthur, and declared that the plan would please him, as it would show the world that one of his daughters had a true, womanly heart, although the other's was incased in a steel armor of pride, vanity and ambition.
Senator Winans usually carried his point, and his wife and daughter soon came round to his opinion. Finally the parents sent the young people off to bill and coo, while they talked matters over and decided how best to smooth over the whole affair to the world.
They had to bring in Earle, too, and intrust him with the task of breaking to his bonny bride the news of the letter from the sea with the certainty of her father's fate.
But the news of Bruce Conway's loss at sea scarcely surprised Earle so much as that of Ethel's strange conduct. Like his father, he was very angry.
"I can scarcely realize it," he exclaimed; "I could have sworn that her love was as strong as her life. Why, she seemed to worship Arthur!"
"It was only his title she worshiped," Ethel's father replied angrily, and Earle rejoiced with him that Precious would make up to Arthur for Ethel's defection.
"I have an idea," Earle said presently. "Ladybird will have to go into mourning for her father, so she cannot enter society this winter. We will go abroad with Arthur and Precious, and make it a double bridal tour."
They agreed with him that it was a good idea, and then he went, with the letter from the sea, to his bride.
"I must go now to Ethel, but you need not come with me, Paul, for you would only scold her, and of course the poor child feels badly enough now," said Mrs. Winans; but all that she could urge did not prevent the irate father from reprimanding his elder daughter in very strong terms for her heartless conduct, that he assured her had brought a disgrace on the family that could only be wiped out by the nobility Precious had displayed.
Ethel did not have one word to say in her own defense. She received her father's reprimand in cold, proud silence more irritating than any retort, then turned away. But to Precious and all the others Ethel was kind and gracious in spite of a certain coldness that every one but her mother displayed toward her. How could they help it when she had acted so abominably?
Ethel did not resent their anger. She endured it humbly, and even took an interest in the bustle of preparations that followed on the change of brides. There was so much to do to get Precious ready for the rôle of bride instead of bridesmaid that every one was busy. The bridal gown was altered to fit the slender form of Precious, the bridal veil was given to her with a smile.
Every one wondered at Ethel's humility, and they began to forgive her in their hearts in spite of themselves, for she even offered to be the maid of honor.
"I want to do everything to make you happy, dear," she said, with a light caress on the golden head, "and by and by you'll be glad, Precious, that my selfishness left Arthur free for you. He will love you better than he could have loved me. Every one does, you know."
There was a tear and a sigh behind the smile, but Precious did not notice it. She was very, very happy, our little heroine, and life lay before her all bright and joyous with the sunshine of love and the flowers of hope on her life-path.
Ethel's story leaked out to the world as such stories will, and society declared it was not at all surprised. Her pride and ambition and heartlessness were well known to the world, declared the knowing ones.
But surely she would not have the hardihood to attend the wedding, said everybody. It would be a sensation if she did that, certainly.
But Ethel gave them the sensation. She went to church with the bride, as maid of honor, she smiled at the bridegroom when the ceremony was over; but while people were saying it was a wonder she went to the church she knew in her heart that she would rather have gone to the stake.
How slowly the time went, how wearisome the reception, how could they all seem so smiling and happy, she thought again and again until it was all over, and Precious had put off her bridal white for her traveling gown and was saying her farewells.
Kay was going too, Precious could not leave him, she declared; and indeed her pet would have been inconsolable. So the beautiful lion-like fellow went into the carriage with his mistress, who sobbed bitterly as her father leaned in at the door for a second farewell.
"Half my life seems going with you, darling," he sighed.
"I shall bring her back to you in the summer for a visit," promised happy Arthur Chester.
"And we will stay at dear old Rosemont," declared Precious; and the last glimpse they had of the fair young face was wreathed in smiles, though the eyes were violets drowned in tears.
The carriages rolled away with Arthur and Precious, Earle and Ladybird, and there was only Ethel left now—Ethel standing by her mother's side, tall and queenly in her bridesmaid's gown, but pale, and with tears in her burning eyes. Mrs. Winans had been sobbing on her husband's shoulder, but now she went to the solitary figure and clasped her in her arms.
"We have only you left, dear one; we will have to love you more than ever; will we not, Paul?" she murmured, but with a stifled exclamation he left the room. In his heart there was no forgiveness for his heartless daughter.
"You look tired, my dear. This excitement has wearied you. Go now to your room," Mrs. Winans said, kissing her a tender good-night. "You must rest and sleep."
"I am very tired," Ethel answered listlessly, as she turned away, crushing between her teeth some words that sounded like, "I should like to sleep—forever!"