Part 9 (2/2)
How I wish I were you. So brave and daring.”
”You are very pretty, my dear,” I answered, as I kissed her. She was; but very pale and so fragile that I felt as if I were petting a child.
”I am so wretched,” she murmured, and the tears welled up in her great blue eyes. ”If I were only strong like you!”
”You shall tell me your story presently; but first I have something to do. Sit here a moment.”
I went out and told Mrs. Perry to get us something to eat and to prepare a bed for my friend; and I wrote a hurried line to Madame d'Artelle that I was staying for the night with a student friend, and sent it by Mr. Perry.
When I went back the girl was sitting in a very despondent att.i.tude, weeping silently; but she started up and tried to smile to me through her tears. Then I made a discovery. She had taken off her gloves, and on her left hand was a wedding ring.
”How can I ever thank you?” she cried.
”First by drying your tears--things might have been much worse with you, you know; think of that; then by having some supper; I am positively famished; and after that, if you like, you can tell me your story, and we will see whether, by putting our heads together, we cannot find a way to help you further.”
”I am afraid----” and she broke down again.
With much persuasion I induced her to eat something and take a little wine; and this seemed to cheer her. She dried her eyes and as we sat side by side on a couch, she put her hand in mine and gradually nestled into my arms like a weary wee child.
”I'll begin,” I said. ”My name is Christabel Gilmore. I'm an American, and a student at the University here;” and I added some details about the States and so on; just talking so as to give her time to gather confidence.
”You haven't told me your name yet,” I said, presently.
”I am the Countess von Ostelen. You have heard the name?” she said, quickly, at my start of surprise.
”I was surprised, that is all. Yes. I knew the name years ago in America. I knew the Count von Ostelen.”
”He is my husband,” she said, very simply. ”My Christian name is Gareth. You will call me by that, of course.” With a sweet little nervous gesture she slipped her arm away and began to finger her wedding ring.
”I had seen that, my dear.”
”Your eyes see everything, Christabel;” and her arm came about me again and her head rested on my shoulder.
I sat silent for a few moments in perplexity. If she were Karl's wife, how came his brother to have been----what a fool I was! Of course the thing was plain. Gustav was the husband, and he had used his brother's name. My heart was stirred, and my intense pity for her found vent in a sigh.
”Why that sigh, Christabel?” Her sweet eyes fastened upon my face nervously, and I kissed her.
”The sigh was for you, child, not for myself. Had you not better tell me everything? Have you your husband's likeness?”
”I had it here in a locket,” she said, wistfully, as she drew a chain from her bosom. ”But to-day he said the locket was not good enough for me. I wish I had kept it now. You would have said he was the handsomest man you had ever seen. Oh, how selfish I am,” she broke off, with a quick cry of distress and sat up.
”What is the matter?”
”I never thought of it. He was with me when those men attacked us.
Oh, if he should have been hurt!”
<script>