Lillian's vow or, The mystery of Raleigh House
A voice at her side--a rich, sweet voice, speaking in a cautious
tone. She started, and her face grew white as marble. She pressed one
hand against her heart, with a low cry. One swift glance around the
place, and then both white hands were laid in his, and a voice full of
suppressed delight murmured, faintly:
“Cyril! Good God! can it be you? I could not believe it--I could not
believe it even when I saw your letter! Oh, Cyril! Cyril!”
She threw herself into his arms, her proud head pillowed upon his
breast, her white arms wound about his neck, and lay there in a very
trance of delight.
“Oh! my love--my love!” she murmured, softly. “After all these years,
to hold you thus once more! But, Cyril,” starting up with wide-open,
wild, dilated eyes and a face of ashen pallor, “stop--and think!
You--you know all; and in your letter you said that if I would see you,
you would be able to explain away all the awful mistake of the past.
Tell me, Cyril--tell me, oh! my beloved, you were not all to blame!”
“So help me Heaven, I was not to blame!” he said, fervently. “We were
duped, betrayed, deceived--you and I. It was not my fault--it was
not our sin; and for seventeen years--seventeen long, dark, bitter
years--we have walked apart upon this earth--you and I. But no human
power shall part us now, my darling--no one can come between us ever
any more.”
Her eyes met his with wild terror.
“Cyril--I am Van Van Alstyne’s wife,” she faltered.
His eyes flashed. He stooped and whispered a few words in her
ear--words which made the blood leap madly in her veins.
“Cyril! Can you--prove it?” she cried.
“I can and will, my beloved!” He held her close to his heart once more,
and showered kisses upon the sweet red lips. “You are mine, Lenore!”
he whispered, tenderly. “All this mystery shall be cleared up, and the
world shall know the martyr you have been.”
Footsteps! She sprung to an upright position and hastened away, while
her companion turned to encounter the scowling face of the master of
the house--and upon his arm, smiling, giggling, the irrepressible Mrs.
Vernon, her black eyes twinkling with gratified malice and spite.
CHAPTER XII.
FROM THE OTHER WORLD.
Slowly Lillian aroused herself, and in perfect ignorance of what had
taken place just a few feet away from the scene of her own sorrow, sat
up pale and trembling, Richard Raleigh bending over her.
“It is true, Lillian,” he said, gravely, “all true. But, unless I
speak, there is no proof--no way of proving to the world the deed of
which I accuse that man. We must be quiet and wait patiently for the
next developments. Lillian, promise to be my wife, and I swear to
unearth the murderer and deliver him up to justice.”
He was speaking fast and in low, eager tones. His face had grown
deathly pale--a strange, unearthly pallor--and great drops of
perspiration stood upon his brow. She put up her hands with a repelling
gesture.
“Keep away!” she cried, wildly. “There is no truth in you, Richard
Raleigh! You are bad and false, and I do not believe you. Keep away! Do
not trouble me more, for my brain reels, and I am weak and faint and
half insane!”
Her eyes were glittering with a feverish light; her hands were hot and
trembling; her breath came in fitful gasps. She looked ill and weak.
“It is all true, Lillian,” Raleigh repeated once more. “It is a hard
thing to say--hard, hard; but the truth can not be denied. I repeat to
you boldly--to you, the daughter of the dead man, Gilbert Leigh--that
_Jack Lyndon took your father’s life_!”
She put up her hands once more with a shrill cry of pain.
“Don’t!” she panted, hoarsely. “If there is any pity, any mercy in your
heart, Richard Raleigh, do not repeat that false lie! Why should he do
such a fiendish deed? What motive could he have had?”
Raleigh’s eyes flashed. If she would only discuss the matter with him,
there was a hope of convincing her of the truth of his words.
“Why, indeed?” he repeated. “Why should anybody have had cause? Yet
the awful deed was done. I will tell you all if you have strength
to listen; I will repeat the circumstances of the affair just as I
witnessed it, and then you can judge for yourself. I was coming home
from Mrs. Howard’s reception, Lillian, on the night of your father’s
murder. It was late, and I had walked, so I hurried onward, my head
bent, my thoughts busy. All at once I heard the sound of footsteps, and
as the street was deserted--I was coming down the street upon which you
then lived, Lillian--it attracted my attention, and glancing up I saw
your father, Gilbert Leigh, on the opposite side. I was about to cross
over and join him when the electric light went out into darkness--you
know their exasperating ways--and when I was able to see once more,
I observed your father in eager conversation with another man. It was
very near your own door, Lillian; and just then you opened your window
and glanced out as though looking for your father. I saw your sweet
face and I halted; forgive me, Lillian, I could not help thinking it
was the sweetest face in the round world. Your father was just beyond
the range of your window; you could not see him, so you closed your
blind and I turned away. Stepping on a few paces, I caught the sound of
men’s voices in angry altercation, and once more I halted.
“‘Give me the book!’ I heard an angry voice demand.
“‘I will not!’ responded your father, firmly. ‘It does not belong to me
but to my employers, and I will defend it with my life!’
“Then an awful pause, broken by a smothered groan and a sound like some
one struggling upon the pavement. I dashed across the street, and there
I found--_don’t_ look at me with such horror-stricken eyes, Lillian--I
found your father in the grasp of murderous hands, just breathing his
last. Over him stood his murderer--that man, Jack Lyndon. Why did I not
denounce him at once, you ask? Lillian, it was through sympathy and
pity for you. He told me that he was your intended husband; that your
father had treated him villainously; he fell upon his knees before me
and begged me to spare him and let him go free. I weakly consented out
of pity for you, oh, my beloved, never dreaming that the day was coming
when I too should bow before you in humble supplication for your love.
I have carried this secret about in my heart, corroding and poisoning
my whole life, until I can keep silent no longer. And now, Lillian,
that you have heard all, what will you do?”
Her face froze over like a marble mask.
“Denounce my father’s murderer, and give him up to justice!” she said,
in a low, stern voice.
Richard Raleigh shuddered.
“Lillian, listen. The secret is ours. No one else in the wide world,
but you and I, has any knowledge of his crime. Shall _I_ denounce him,
or shall _you_? You did care for him once; but you shall, if you wish,
deliver him over into the cruel hands of the law.”
She covered her face with her hands, sobbing and trembling in a weak,
womanish way.
“I can not--I can not!” she sobbed, bitterly. “No, no; a thousand times
no! I will not speak! I will die before I will denounce Jack Lyndon! I
can not believe it; it is all false--false--false!”
Richard Raleigh took her hand in his.
“It is true, Lillian; and because it is true I am going to denounce him
to the authorities--Jack Lyndon, the murderer of your father!”
She started up with a low cry.
“You shall not! You shall not, Richard Raleigh!”
“I must. Justice demands it.”
“You shall not! You must not!” wringing her hands in wild beseeching.
“Have pity--have mercy! My brain is reeling--I know not what I say.
_Only spare him!_ I--I loved him once--loved my father’s murderer!
Oh, God! And I stood beside my father’s body and vowed to deliver his
murderer up to justice! What a weak--pitifully weak wretch I am!”
“You are a woman, consequently weak in resolution where one you love is
concerned. Let me do it, Lillian! I will deliver Jack Lyndon into the
hands of the law. I _must_; it is my duty.”
“Richard”--calling him by his name, in a voice full of heart-break,
seizing his hand in both her burning palms--“listen to me. If you do
this thing--if you persist in this determination--if you denounce Jack
Lyndon to the authorities, I will take my own life!”
For just a moment, silence--awful silence; then Richard caught the
girl’s slight, trembling form in his arms and held her close against
his breast.
“Darling, I love you! My God, how I love you!” he panted. “Be mine,
Lillian--be my wife, loved and honored; the wife of Richard Raleigh,
only son of Grafton Raleigh, millionaire. It is no position to scorn.
Be my wife, Lillian, and I swear to let Jack Lyndon go free, to hold
my peace, and leave him to God and his own conscience! Refuse me, and
I will--I must--let the law take its course! But I prefer to give up
the pursuit, to let remorse do its own work in Jack Lyndon’s breast--a
Nemesis to hunt him down. Believe me, Lillian, if the dead--the holy
dead--can behold us, he, your departed father, will approve--would say,
if his dumb lips were unsealed: ‘Daughter, forego vengeance. Leave that
to Heaven.’”
He paused and gazed around him in the pale moonshine. What ailed the
moonlight? It seemed to grow suddenly dim and obscure, as though the
moon were in an eclipse. A strange chill had crept into the air; an
awful unseen presence seemed to stand at their sides. Lillian glanced
up with a convulsive shudder.
“Who called me?” she cried, wildly. “Mr. Raleigh, I swear to you I
heard my father’s voice--my dear, dead, murdered father call clearly,
distinctly, ‘Lillian!’”
He caught her to his heart once more. She had no strength left to
repulse him now.
“Superstitious child!” he cried. “Darling, my life is in your hands;
what are you going to do with it? Think it all over, and let me know
your decision. Be my wife at once, and be lifted out of this poverty.
You need not fear my parents’ displeasure; I know how to win their
consent, and I swear before high Heaven, I swear before my Maker, by
all my hopes of happiness, to let Jack Lyndon go free and unaccused!
Will you consider it, Lillian, and give me your answer to-morrow? Meet
me at this place at ten to-morrow night. Will you come, Lillian?”
Her face was as pale as death, her eyes full of heart-break.
“Yes; I will be here with my answer to-morrow night at ten,” she
returned, mechanically.
She slipped away and up the path like a wild creature, back to the
house, and fled upstairs to Miss Raleigh’s chamber, where she threw
herself down upon the rug before the fire, shivering violently. Not
a word did she utter. Her heart was in a tumult, her brain seemed on
fire. The closing of the outer door of the house aroused her at last,
and she knew that Jack was gone. Click! click! came the sound of high
heels, and a little later Miss Raleigh entered her room. Her face was
all aglow with triumph as she sunk into an easy-chair.
“Come and take off my shoes, Lillian,” she commanded. “I feel like
sitting up till morning, for I am just too happy to sleep! Oh,
Lillian! I must tell somebody, or my heart will burst with its burden
of gladness! Lillian, Jack Lyndon has asked me to be his wife; and,
poor though he is, I love him, and have accepted him. He loves me so
dearly--so very dearly, Lillian--and he has loved me so long, but
feared to speak before. Lillian!”--with a voice full of horror--“look!”
She had started to her feet with a gasp of terror. All of a sudden
the gas-light had begun to grow dim and burn with a faint, blue,
unearthly glow. And then--_then_--the door of the round room opened
slowly--slowly--and there, upon the threshold, pale and wan and
pathetic, with one hand pressed upon her heart, and great, sad, dark