Part 68 (2/2)
She averted her face from his searching eyes, and was deeply embarra.s.sed.
”I feared it would be so,” he said, sadly. ”But I do not blame you. On the contrary I honor your sincerity. Very well, I shall be heartily glad of any regard that you can give me, and shall try to be worthy of it.”
”Mr. Merwyn,” she said, impetuously, ”no friend of mine receives a stronger, better, or more sincere regard than I give you for your own sake. There now, trust me as I trust you;” and she gave him her hand.
He took it in his strong grasp, but she exclaimed, instantly: ”You are feverish. You are ill. I thought your eyes were unnaturally bright.”
”They should be so if it is in the power of happiness to kindle them!”
”Come now,” she cried, a.s.suming a little brusqueness of manner which became her well; ”I've given you my word, and that's my bond. If you indulge in any more doubts I'll find a way to punish you. I'll take my 'affidavy' I'm just as good a friend to you as you are to me. If you doubt me, I shall doubt you.”
”I beg your pardon; no you won't, or cannot, rather. You know well that I have my father's unchangeable tenacity. It's once and always with me.”
”You are speaking riddles,” she faltered, averting her face.
”Not at all. I am glad indeed that you can give me simple friends.h.i.+p, unforced, uncompelled by any other motive than that which actuates you in regard to the others. But you know well--your most casual glance would reveal it to you--that I, in whom you have inspired some semblance of manhood, can never dream of any other woman. When you see this truth, as you often will, you must not punish me for it. You must not try to cure me by coldness or by any other of the conventional remedies, for you cannot. When we meet, speak kindly, look kindly; and should it ever be not best or right that we should meet,--that is, often,--we shall not.”
”You are scarcely speaking as a friend,” she said, in a low voice.
”Will you punish me if I cannot help being far more?”
”No, since you cannot help it,” she replied, with a shy laugh.
A new light, a new hope, began to dawn upon him, and he was about to speak impetuously when Mr. Vosburgh appeared and said, ”Merwyn, I've been watching two men who pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed the house, and who seem to be reconnoitring.”
As Merwyn and Marian accompanied him to the parlor they heard the heavy booming of cannon off on the east side, and it was repeated again and again.
”Those are ominous sounds at this time of night,” said Mr. Vosburgh.
”That they don't come from the rioters is a comfort,” Merwyn replied; ”but it proves what I said before,--they are becoming more bold and reckless.”
”It may also show that the authorities are more stern and relentless in dealing with them.”
At last the sounds of conflict died away, the street appeared quiet and deserted, and they all returned to the dining-room.
The light enabled Merwyn to look eagerly and questioningly at Marian. She smiled, flushed, and, quickly averting her eyes, began to speak on various topics in a way that warned Merwyn to restrain all further impatience; but she inspired so strong and delicious a hope that he could scarcely control himself. He even fancied that there was at times a caressing accent in her tone when she spoke to him.
”Surely,” he thought, ”if what I said were repugnant, she would give some hint of the fact; but how can it be possible that so soon--”
”Come, Marian, I think you may safely retire now,” said her father; ”I hear Riten coming up.”
Even as he spoke, a front parlor window was crashed in. Merwyn and Mr. Vosburgh sprung into the hall, revolvers in hand; Riten instinctively fled back towards the stairs leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt, in which she had extinguished the light, and Mr. Vosburgh told his daughter to follow the servant.
But she stood still, as if paralyzed, and saw a man rus.h.i.+ng upon him with a long knife. Mr. Vosburgh fired, but, from agitation, ineffectually. Merwyn at the same moment had fired on another man, who fell. A fearful cry escaped from the girl's lips as she saw that her father was apparently doomed. The gleaming knife was almost above him. Then--how it happened she could never tell, so swift was the movement--Merwyn stood before her father. The knife descended upon his breast, yet at the same instant his pistol exploded against the man's temple, and the miscreant dropped like a log. There were sounds of other men clambering in at the window, and Mr. Vosburgh s.n.a.t.c.hed Merwyn back by main force, saying to Marian, ”Quick! for your life! down the stairs!”
The moment the door closed upon them all he slid the heavy bolt.
Riten stood sobbing at the foot of the stairs.
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