Part 93 (2/2)
Kiss me, my darling, before you go to meet him. My blue-eyed baby!
after to-morrow you will be mine no longer. In the hearts of wives husbands supplant mothers, and reign supreme. Do not speak, my love.
Only kiss me, and go.”
She bent over the face resting on her knee, and a moment after Regina, followed by the n.o.ble old dog, went down the circuitous walk leading to the iron gate. On either side stood deodar cedars, and behind one of these she sat down on a rustic seat.
She had not waited long when footsteps approached, and Mr. Palma's tall, handsome figure pa.s.sed through the gate, accompanied by one who followed slowly.
”Lily!”
The lawyer pa.s.sed his arm around her, drew her to his side, and whispered:
”I bring you glad tidings. I bring my darling a very precious bridal present--her father.”
Turning quickly, he put her in Mr. Laurance's arms.
”Can my daughter cordially welcome her unhappy and unworthy father?”
”Oh! how merciful G.o.d has been to me! My father alive and safe--really folding me to his heart? Now my mother can rest, for now she can utter the forgiveness which her heart long ago p.r.o.nounced; but which, having withheld at your painful parting interview, has so sorely weighed down her spirits. Oh, how bright the world looks!
Thank G.o.d! at last mother can find peace.”
Looking fondly at her radiant face, Mr. Laurance asked in an unsteady voice:
”Will my Minnie's child plead with her, for the long-lost husband of her youth?”
”Oh, father! there is no need. Her love must have triumphed long ago over the sense of cruel wrong and the memory of the past, for since we learned that you were among those who perished she has silently mourned as only a wife can for the husband she loves. Because she sees in my face the reflex of yours, it has of late grown doubly dear to her; and sometimes at night when she believes me asleep, she touches me softly, and whispers, 'My Cuthbert's baby.' But why have you so long allowed us to believe you were lost on that vessel?”
Briefly Mr. Laurance outlined the facts of his escape upon a raft, which was hastily constructed by several of the crew when the boats were beyond their reach. Upon this he had placed Maud, and on the morning after the wreck of the vessel they succeeded in getting into one of the boats which was floating bottom upward, and providentially drifted quite near the raft. For several days they were tossed helplessly from wave to wave, exposed to heavy rains, and on the third evening, poor little Maud who had been unconscious for some hours, died in her father's arms. At midnight when the moon shone full and bright, he had wrapped the little form in his coat, and consigned her to a final resting-place beneath the blue billows, where her mother had already gone down amid the fury of the gale. He knew from the colour and lettering of the boat, that it was the same in which he had placed his terrified wife, and when it floated to their raft he could not doubt her melancholy fate. A few hours after Maud's burial, a Danish brig bound for Valparaiso discovered the boat and its signals of distress, and taking on board the four survivors, sailed away on its destined track. Mr. Laurance bad made his way to Rio Janeiro, and subsequently to Havana, but learning from the published accounts that his wife had indeed perished, and that he also was numbered among the lost, he determined not to reveal the fact of his existence to any one. Financially beggared, his ancestral home covered by mortgages which Mrs. Laurance held, and utterly hopeless of arousing her compa.s.sion or obtaining her pardon, he was too proud to endure the humiliation that would overwhelm him in the divorce suit he knew she intended to inst.i.tute; and resolved never to return to the United States, where he could expect only disgrace and sorrow.
While in Liverpool, preparing to go to Melbourne, he accidentally found and read Mrs. Laurance's advertis.e.m.e.nt in the London _Times_, offering a reward for any definite information concerning Cuthbert Laurance, reported lost on Steamer ----. Had she relented, would she pardon him now? He was lonely, desolate; his heart yearned for the sight of his fair young daughter, doubly dear since the loss of poor Maud, and he longed inexpressibly to see once more the love of his early and his later life.
If still implacably vindictive, would she have continued the advertis.e.m.e.nt, which so powerfully tempted him to reveal himself? He was fully conscious of his own unworthiness, and of the magnitude of the wrongs inflicted upon her, but after a long struggle with his pride, which bled sorely at thought of the scornful repulse that might await him, he had written confidentially to Mr. Palma, and in accordance with his advice, returned to New York.
Only the day previous he had arrived, and now came to test the power of memory over his wife's heart.
”Father, she is sitting alone on the verandah, with such a world of sadness in her eyes, which have lost the blessed power of weeping. Go to her. I believe you need no ally to reach my mother's heart.”
Mr. Laurance kissed her fair forehead, and walked away; and pa.s.sing his arm around Regina, Mr. Palma drew her forward across the lawn till they reached a branching lilac near the verandah.
Here he paused, took off his gla.s.ses, and looked proudly and tenderly down into the violet eyes that even now met his so shyly.
”My Lily, to-morrow at this hour you will be my wife.”
His haughty lips were smiling as they sought hers, and with her lovely flushed face half hidden on his shoulder, and one small hand clinging to his, she watched her father's figure approaching the steps.
Mrs. Laurance sat with her folded hands resting on the rail of the bal.u.s.trade, her head slightly drooped upon her bosom; and the beautiful face was lighted by the dying sunset splendour, that seemed to kindle a nimbus around the golden head, and rendered her in her violet drapery like some haloed _Mater Dolorosa_, treading alone the _Via Crucis_.
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