Part 41 (2/2)

”Privy conspiracy and rebellion suits you, Mab. You've a talent for finesse, that quite appalls me sometimes, sinner as I am. Don't you feel remorse when you sit on your husband's knee, and remember that we are about to destroy his peace?”

”A little, Val; but he needs change and excitement; this will give it to him, and he'll soon forget the rest. He'd forgive me the unpardonable sin if I played penitence, for in his eyes the queen can do no wrong. He loves me too much; he never should have married me; I am too young to make him really happy,” and a sigh shook the gossamer vail.

”I always thought and said so, you remember, for I meant to have you myself. And so I will, in spite of heaven and earth, an old man's mortgage and a woman's fears.”

The fervor of the last sentence sent an odd thrill through me, as I saw the speaker seize the little hand that lay on his arm.

”Don't be absurd, Val; remember where you are. This is no place for that sort of thing,” said the lady, glancing hastily about her.

”There's a good deal of it, nevertheless; this is a capital stage for lovers to rehea.r.s.e on,” returned the man, nodding toward several pairs of humble sweethearts near them.

”I'm tired; take me home. It's getting late, and Vaughn will wonder where we are.”

”Come and get an ice first. I want something cool, and a sight of your face to set me up for my night's work.”

”I hate to think of you in that dreadful place, night after night. When will you give it up, dear Valentine?”

”In another month or two I shall be free; then hey for Paris and Queen Mab!”

The music ceased as they moved on, and in a moment the crowd broke up, streaming away in four directions toward the four great gates.

I meant to follow to see the faces of this pair, for I was in a fever of excitement, and I rushed after them, regardless of the jostlings I both received and gave.

For a time the tall figure of the man served to guide me, but in the crush at the southern gate I lost him, and after chasing several stalwart gentlemen, I hurried to the most fas.h.i.+onable saloon. Here I waited an hour, prowling about or lounging over a cup of coffee, and watching all new-comers, till it occurred to me that this mysterious Val and Mab would not desire to be seen together, and had doubtless gone to some less frequented cafe.

Provoked at my own stupidity, I turned toward home, but feeling that I should not sleep, I stepped into the theatre, hoping to quiet myself by a wholesome laugh with the great comedian playing there.

It was a benefit night, and getting interested, I remained till the long performance was over. It was past midnight as I went toward the river, near which my lodgings were just then, and as I turned a corner, I saw something that made me pause suddenly.

A tall man, wrapped in a curious dark cloak, stood under a lamp, apparently examining some object in his hand. It looked like a pistol, and the air and the dress of the man were suspicious. The place was solitary, for the streets were new, and many of the houses unoccupied. I was still weak and very nervous, and following an involuntary impulse, I stepped into a dark doorway, hoping he would pa.s.s me un.o.bservantly.

As I stood there, a carriage turned the other corner, and as if he was as anxious to escape observation as myself, the man threw off his cloak and sprang up the steps of the door where I was standing.

The suddenness of the meeting startled both. I uttered an exclamation; he sprang back, and would have fallen, had I not caught his hand. In the drawing of a breath, he was on his feet, and wrenching himself from my hold, darted away.

I stood a moment to recover myself, and was about to hurry off in an opposite direction, when a little bright object attracted my attention. I picked it up, and stopping under the light, found it to be a tiny silver imp, curiously wrought and attached to a broken silver chain, an inch or two long.

I was just going to pocket it, when I was horror-struck to perceive on my hand the stain of blood. It came from no wound of my own, but evidently from the man whose hand I had grasped. I stared at it an instant, then dashed home and into bed, feeling as if I had committed a murder, and the police were on my track.

The imprudence and excitement of that night caused a relapse, and I was a prisoner for several weeks. When able to care and ask for news, I learned that the latest sensation had been the a.s.sault and robbery of a Mr. Vaughn, one of the richest and most respected merchants in the city. He had been detained at his counting-room late one night, and returning with a large sum of money about him, had been stabbed, robbed, and left for dead by some unseen person.

The offender had been discovered, after much difficulty, and was awaiting his trial, stoutly denying the act, and refusing to give up the money.

On reading the account in an old paper, the date of the outrage struck me, May 14th. That was the date of my last walk, and my encounter with the b.l.o.o.d.y-handed man.

It interested me intensely, but finding that Mr. Vaughn was recovering, and the offender was taken, I resolved to save myself any further excitement or fatigue, and as my testimony was now valueless, I held my tongue. I had some curiosity to see the culprit, for the impression I received from him in the instant we stood face to face, was of a young and handsome man; blackbearded, pale, and remarkably tall. On inquiring about the prisoner, however, I learned that he was a short, stout, fair man, quite the reverse of my mysterious party. After that I let the matter drop, but often thought of it, and often wondered if the young couple in the Park were in any way connected with the injured Vaughn, for the two affairs were curiously connected in my mind from that time forth.

II.

Early in August I went to the seash.o.r.e to recruit, choosing a quiet place, once fas.h.i.+onable, but now deserted by all but a few faithful habitues who came for health, not gayety. I had lounged through one week, and was beginning to long for some object of interest, when my wish was suddenly granted.

Coming up from the beach one evening, I approached the house from the rear, thinking to shorten the way, and as I pa.s.sed a room in the wing, I was arrested by the sound of a laugh. I remembered it at once, for it was too peculiar to be forgotten, and I paused with a half-uttered exclamation on my lips. The French windows were open, and a soft gust of wind swayed the muslin drapery far enough aside to show me a lovely young woman, leaning on the shoulder of a man, into whose averted face she was looking with an expression of mingled joy and anxiety. I saw no more, for the curtain fell, and I stole away, longing to hear what that fresh voice was saying.

”What new arrivals are there?” I asked of Mrs. Wayne, a motherly matron, who had expressed an interest in me, because I resembled a son of hers.

”No one but little Mrs. Vaughn and her cousin, Valentine Devon,” answered Mrs. Wayne.

”Is she related to the old gentleman who was robbed and wounded last May?”

”Slightly; she is his wife.”

”That young creature! why, he is old enough to be her father.”

”You know them, then?”

”Not at all; I never saw Mr. Vaughn, and merely caught a glimpse of her just now. She doesn't look as if she came for her health. By Jove, it's August, and the time they planned to meet!”

My incoherent exclamation was caused by a sudden recollection of the words spoken in the Park by the unknown pair; and in a moment I was as excited as before, and actually grateful that fate had thrown them in my way again. So absorbed was I in my discovery, that I stood before Mrs. Wayne, deaf to her surprised inquiry of what I meant by that odd speech. Her curiosity was increased a moment afterward, for, as we still stood in the hall, a voice said, courteously, behind me: ”Will you allow me to pa.s.s?”

And, turning abruptly at the sound, I found myself face to face with the tall, darkly-bearded man whose b.l.o.o.d.y hand had grasped my own. I must have looked even more startled than I felt, for Mrs. Wayne exclaimed: ”Bless me, what is it?”

And the stranger half-paused in pa.s.sing, as if arrested by my strange expression.

”I beg pardon; it is nothing; a momentary dizziness,” I muttered, turning away, quite upset by this sudden rencontre.

There was no doubt of it, for, brief as that glimpse had been, the face I saw that night was clearly impressed upon my memory. The figure, carriage, and expression were the same; the look of wild surprise just seen was a shadow of the startled glance he gave me as he started back when I seized him.

At dinner my eye glanced down the long table and saw the pair at the end, entirely absorbed in each other.

Mrs. Vaughn was younger and lovelier even than I thought, and Devon a fine-looking fellow. No one but Mrs. Wayne knew them, and they seemed to care very little what any one thought, evidently bent on enjoying their freedom.

As we strolled about on the long piazzas, after dinner, Mrs. Wayne kept her promise and introduced me to Devon. While the two ladies chatted, we smoked and discussed meerschaums, as young men have a weakness for doing. I admired his, which was of a peculiar and foreign style, richly carved and ornamented with silver. A tiny Cupid sat on the cover to the bowl, and as I examined it, he said, carelessly: ”That is not in keeping with the rest of the ornaments, which are grotesque rather than pretty, you see. Originally there was an imp there-a capital little fellow, but I lost him, and filled his place with that fat cherub.”

”Something in this style, perhaps,” I said, showing the silver imp that hung from my watchguard, fixing my eyes on his face as I spoke.

”By Jove! that's the image of my Puck! Where did that come from, if I may ask?” he exclaimed, with unfeigned surprise.

”I found it in the street. I dare say it is yours, and I'll return it in a week or two if you care for it,” I said, coolly, dropping my guard again.

”Thank you. I do care for it, as my pet pipe is imperfect without it. But I am to sail in ten days for Europe, so if you can spare it I'll gladly replace it with any trinket you fancy,” he answered, smiling, yet looking at me with an odd expression.

”You shall have it in time, I a.s.sure you,” and with a glance still more peculiar than his own, I turned to talk with Mrs. Vaughn. ”If this weather holds, you will have a charming voyage,” I said, as Mrs. Wayne addressed herself to Devon.

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