Part 49 (1/2)
What a dear kind soul she is, with all her queer talk. G.o.d bless you, my boy. You bring hope and happiness back with you.”
But the poor fellow was so conscious of his own coming trouble that tears came into his eyes, and after Mrs. Jocelyn had gone he looked at Mildred in a way that made her ask, gently and anxiously:
”What is it, Roger?”
Alter a moment's hesitation he said grimly, ”Millie, it's rough on a fellow when he must be his own executioner. There, take it. It's the heaviest load I ever carried in my life,” and he threw the letter into her lap.
After a moment's glance she trembled violently, and became pale and red by turns, then buried her face in her hands.
”I knew it would be so,” he said doggedly. ”I knew what was the matter all along.”
She sprang up, letting the letter drop on the floor, and clung to him. ”Roger,” she cried, ”I won't read the letter. I won't touch it. No one shall come between us--no one has the right. Oh, it would be shameful after all--”
”Millie,” he said almost sternly, replacing her in her chair, ”the writer of that letter has the right to come between us--he is between us, and there is no use in disguising the truth. Come, Millie, I came here to play the man, and you must not make it too hard for me. Read your letter.”
”I can't,” she said, again burying her burning face in her hands, and giving way to a sudden pa.s.sion of tears.
”No, not while I'm here, of course. And yet I'd like to know my fate, for the suspense is a little too much. I hope he's written to tell you that he has married the daughter of the Great Mogul, or some other rich nonent.i.ty,” he added, trying to meet his disappointment with a faint attempt at humor; ”but I'm a fool to hope anything. Good-by, and read your letter in peace. I ought to have left it and gone away at once, but, confound it! I couldn't.
A drowning man will blindly catch at a straw.”
She looked at him, and saw that his face was white with pain and fear.
”Roger,” she said resolutely, ”I'll burn that letter without opening it if you say so. I'll do anything you ask.”
He paced the room excitedly with clenched hands for a few moments, but at last turned toward her and said quietly, ”Will you do what I ask?”
”Yes, yes indeed.”
”Then read your letter.”
She looked at him irresolutely a moment, then made a little gesture of protest and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the missive almost vindictively.
After reading a few lines her face softened, and she said, in accents of regret which she was too much off her guard to disguise, ”Oh, he never received my answer last summer.”
”Of course not,” growled Roger. ”You deserved that, for you gave your note to that old blunderbuss Jotham, when I would have carried it safely.”
”Oh, Roger, I can't go on with this; I am wronging you too shamefully.”
”You would wrong me far more if you were not honest with me at this time,” he said almost harshly.
His words quieted and chilled her a little, and she replied sadly, ”You are right, Roger. You don't want, nor should I mock you with the mere semblance of what you give.”
”Read the letter,” was his impatient reply, ”or I shall go at once.”
She now turned to it resolutely, proposing to read it with an impa.s.sive face, but, in spite of herself, he saw that every word was like an electric touch upon her heart. As she finished, the letter dropped from her hands, and she began crying so bitterly that he was disarmed, and forgot himself in her behalf. ”Don't cry so, Millie,” he pleaded. ”I can't stand it. Come, now; I fought this battle out once before, and didn't think I could be so accursedly weak again.”
”Roger, read that letter.”
”No,” he answered savagely; ”I hate him--I could annihilate him; but he shall never charge me with anything underhanded. That letter was meant for your eyes only. Since it must be, G.o.d grant he proves worthy; but his words would sting me like adders.”
She sprang to him, and, burying her face upon his shoulder, sobbed, ”Oh, Roger, I can't endure this. It's worse than anything I've suffered yet.”
”Oh, what a brute I am!” he groaned. ”His letter ought to have brought you happiness, but your kind heart is breaking over my trouble, for I've acted like a pa.s.sionate boy. Millie, dear Millie, I will be a brave, true man, and, as I promised you, your heart shall decide all. From this time forth I am your brother, your protector, and I shall protect you against yourself as truly as against others. You are not to blame in the least. How could I blame you for a love that took possession of your heart before you knew of my existence, and why has not Millie Jocelyn as good a right to follow her heart as any other girl in the land? And you shall follow it. It would be dastardly meanness in me to take advantage of your grat.i.tude. Come now, wipe your eyes, and give a sister's kiss before I go. It's all right.”