Part 31 (1/2)
Crystal hesitated a moment, and her dark eyes grew a little misty.
”And if it be my duty, Fern, will you say a word to keep me, my darling?” as Fern looked sorrowfully in her face. ”I am not leaving you for good and all; I will never do that until--” but here she paused, and then hurried on. ”The fact is, Fern, your mother can no longer protect me; your brother's unmanly persecution is driving me away. No, I will say nothing bitter of him to-night; after all he is your brother; but it will be better for him if I leave here--a brief absence may help to cure him.”
”But his selfishness must not drive you away, my poor Crystal.”
”Dear, it will be far better for me to go,” returned Crystal with a sigh. ”I am growing restless again, and, as Miss Campion says, the change will do me good; I came home to tell you this to-night I have told Miss Campion that I will go.”
”Next week!”
”Yes, probably next Wednesday or Thursday, about a week from to-day. I shall have to be very busy, you see. Don't look so pale over it, Fern; six months will soon pa.s.s. Do you know,” rather sadly, ”I have had such a curious feeling all day, as though something were going to happen, and that I wanted to get away first. Oh, I can't explain it; I felt the same yesterday. Fern, did Mr. Huntingdon tell you anything more about those friends of his whom he met down at Sandycliffe?”
”No, dear,” with rather a wondering look, ”he only just mentioned them, you know. What nice people they were, and so kind and friendly; he took rather a fancy to them.”
”Yes, but I thought he might have spoken of them again.”
”Oh, no, he only saw them twice; he just went over to tell them how Lady Redmond's ankle was; it was only the accident that made him speak of them at all. How interested you seem in those Ferrers, Crystal.”
”Yes,” was the quick response; but something in her voice made Fern look at her inquiringly. ”Did you--did you know them, Crystal?” she asked, in some surprise.
”Yes,” was again the brief answer; but after a moment's silence she said, ”Fern, you have been very good, very patient all this time, you have never asked me any questions about my past life. I think as I am going away from you, and as one can not tell what may happen, that I should like you to know my miserable story. Oh, it will be safe with you; I do not fear that for a moment; I have only hesitated all these months because of the pain of telling it, and for fear you should cease to love me if you knew of the faults I am so bitterly expiating.”
”Faults,” incredulously; ”I have never seen them, Crystal, you always seem so good and brave and patient.”
”My dear,” she answered, mournfully, ”appearances are deceitful sometimes. Do you remember the story of the poor demoniac whose name was Legion, and how he sat clothed and saved and in his right mind: to me it is one of the most touching and beautiful instances of the Redeemer's power. He was so galled by his chains, he was so torn and wasted by those evil spirits among the Galilean tombs. Fern,” with a deep pathetic look in her eyes, ”sometimes it seems to me that, thank G.o.d, the evil spirit is exorcised in me too--that there is nothing in my heart now but pa.s.sionate regret for an unpremeditated sin.”
”My poor dear Crystal, is it so bad as that?”
”Yes,” with a sigh; ”shall I tell you about it--as I told your mother--oh, how good she was to me, how she tried to comfort me, and she had suffered so much herself. Of course, you have always known that my name is not really Davenport, but you have never guessed that it is Crystal Ferrers.”
”Ferrers! Do you mean that you belong to Mr. Erle's friends, the blind clergyman who lives with his sister at the Grange?”
”Yes, I am Margaret Ferrers's cousin, the young cousin whom they adopted as their own child, and who lived with them from childhood.
Well, I will tell you from the beginning, for you will never understand without hearing about my mother. Give me your hand, dear; if you are tired, and do not want to hear more, will you draw it away.
I am glad it is getting dusk, so you will not see my face; the moon will rise presently, so we shall have light enough.”
”One moment, Crystal; does Mr. Erle know?”
”No, of course not, he is a mere acquaintance; what should put that in your head, Fern?”
”Oh, nothing, it was only fancy,” returned the girl; she hardly knew why she had put the question; was it something in Erle's manner that afternoon? He had asked her, a little anxiously, if Miss Davenport were going away again, and if she would be at home the following week.
”For she had been such a runaway lately,” he had said with a slight laugh, ”and I was thinking that it must be dull for you when she is away.” But Fern had a.s.sured him that Crystal had no intention of going away again, for she had no idea of the plot that Crystal and Miss Campion were hatching between them.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CRYSTAL'S STORY.
The path my father's foot Had trod me out (which suddenly broke off What time he dropped the wallet of the flesh And pa.s.sed) alone I carried on, and set My child-heart 'gainst the th.o.r.n.y underwood, To reach the gra.s.sy shelter of the trees, Ah, babe i' the wood, without a brother-babe!