Part 77 (1/2)
”Oh! I have good news that will make me happy as long as I live. I shall soon see my child; and soon, very soon, all will be clear. Just now I cannot explain; but thank G.o.d for me that these letters came safely.”
She rose, put back her hair, and rapidly glanced over two other letters, then walked to and fro, pondering the contents.
”Where is Mr. Waul?”
”Reading the papers in our room.”
”Ask him to come to me at once.”
She went to her desk, and wrote to General Laurance that letters received after their last interview compelled her to hasten to Paris, whither she had been recalled by a summons from the manager of the Theatre. She had determined, in accordance with his own earnestly expressed wishes, that from the day when the world knew her as Mrs.
Laurance it should behold her no more upon the stage; consequently she would hasten the arrangements for the presentation of her own play ”_Infelice_,” and after he had witnessed her rendition of the new _role_, she would confer with him regarding the day appointed for the celebration of their marriage. Until then, she positively declined seeing him, but enclosed a tress of her golden hair, and begged to hear from him frequently; adding directions that would insure the reception of his letters. Concluding she signed: ”Odille Orme, hoping by the grace of G.o.d soon to subscribe myself--Laurance.”
”Mr. Waul, I have unexpectedly altered my entire programme, and, instead of going to Paestum, must start at once to Paris. This fortunately is Tuesday, and the French steamer sails for Ma.r.s.eilles at three o'clock. Go down at once and arrange for our pa.s.sage, and be careful to let no one know by what route I leave Naples. On your way call at the telegraph office and see that this despatch is forwarded promptly; and do send me a close carriage immediately. I wish to avoid an unpleasant engagement, and shall drive to Torre del Greco, returning in time to meet you at the steamer instead of at this house. See that the baggage leaves here only time enough to be put aboard by three o'clock, and I shall not fail to join you there. When General Laurance calls, Mrs. Waul will instruct the servant to hand him the note, with the information that I have gone for a farewell drive around Naples.”
Hurriedly completing her preparations, she entered the carriage, and was soon borne along the incomparably beautiful road that skirts the graceful curves of the Bay of Naples. But the glory of the sky, and the legendary charms of the picturesque scenery that surrounded her, appealed in vain to senses that were wrapped in the light of other days, that listened only to the new canticle which hope long dumb was now singing through all the sunny chambers of her heart.
Returning again and again to the perusal of the letters to a.s.sure herself that no contingency could arise to defraud her of her long-delayed recognition, she felt that the galling load of half her life had suddenly slipped from her weary shoulders; and the world and the future wore that magic radiance which greeted Miriam, as singing she looked back upon the destruction escaped, and on toward the redeemed inheritance awaiting her.
Reunion with her child, and the triumphant establishment of her unsullied parentage, glowed as the silver stars in her new sky; while a baleful lurid haze surrounded the thought of that dire punishment she was enabled to inflict upon the men who had trampled her prayers beneath their iron heels.
She recalled the image of the swarthy, supercilious, be-diamonded woman who sat that memorable night in the minister's box, claiming as husband the listless handsome man at her side; and as she pictured the dismay which would follow the sudden rending of the name of Laurance from the banker's daughter, and her helpless child, Mrs.
Orme laughed aloud.
Slowly the day wore on, and General Laurance failed to call at the appointed hour to arrange the preliminaries of his marriage. His servant brought a note, which Mrs. Orme read when she reached the steamer, informing her that sudden and severe indisposition confined him to his bed, and requested an interview on the ensuing morning.
Mrs. Waul had received the note and despatched in return that given her by her mistress.
In the magical glow of that cloudless golden afternoon Mrs. Orme saw the outlines of St. Elmo fade away, Capri vanish like a purple mist, Ischia and Procida melt insensibly into the blue of the marvellous bay; and watching the spark which trembled on the distant summit of Vesuvius like the dying eye of that cruel destiny from which she fled, the rescued happy woman exulted in the belief that she was at last sailing through serene seas.
Dreaming of her child, whose pure image hovered in the mirage hope wove before her--
”She seemed all earthly matters to forget, Of all tormenting lines her face was clear, Her wide brown eyes upon the goal were set, Calm and unmoved as though no foe were near.”
CHAPTER x.x.x.
Since the memorable day of Regina's visit to Central Park many weeks had elapsed, and one wild stormy evening in March she sat at the library table writing her translation of a portion of ”Egmont.”
The storm--now of sleet, now of snow--darkened the air, and the globes of the chandelier representing Pompeian lamps were lighted above the oval table, shedding a bright yet mellow glow over the warm quiet room.
Upon a bronze console stood a terra-cotta jar containing a white azalea in full bloom, and the fragrance of the flowers breathed like a benediction on the atmosphere; while in the tall gla.s.s beneath Mrs.
Orme's portrait two half-blown snowy camellias nestled amid a fringe of geranium leaves.
Close to the fire, with her feet upon a Persian patterned cus.h.i.+on, Olga reclined in the luxurious easy chair that belonged to Mr.
Palma's writing desk, and open on her lap lay a volume ent.i.tled ”The Service of the Poor.” The former brilliancy of her complexion seemed to have forsaken her for ever, banished by a settled sallowness; and she looked thin, feeble, dejected, pa.s.sing her fingers abstractedly through the short curling ruddy hair that cl.u.s.tered around her forehead and upon her neck.
As if weary of the thoughts suggested by her book, she turned and looked at the figure writing under the chandelier, and by degrees she realized the change in the countenance, which three months before had been pure, serene, and bright as a moonbeam.