Lillian's vow or, The mystery of Raleigh House
“Come into the conservatory, Bessie,” he pleaded. “I want to talk to
you.”
She followed him as obediently as a child, and they entered the
conservatory together. Moving down the long aisle between rows of bloom
and verdure, she lifted her eyes to his face, with a question in their
innocent depths. No one knew better than Bessie Vernon how to enact the
rôle of innocence and childishness.
“How long has this little affair been going on, Richard,” she asked,
with assumed timidity, “this--this love affair with Miss Leigh? By the
way, have I ever met her? The name sounds strangely familiar. Wasn’t
there a man by the name of Leigh killed a short time ago?”
He fell backward with a suppressed cry, which ended in an impatient
exclamation as his foot came in contact with a rustic jardinière which
fell to the floor with a crash, depositing a great glazed jar filled
with lovely blue Mexican torrinias upon the floor at his feet.
Half angrily he stooped to rescue the plants. Then, summoning the
gardener, he left him to repair the damage, and moved calmly away at
Mrs. Vernon’s side, with as much nonchalance as though a fifty-dollar
jardinière and a ruined collection of rare plants worth their weight in
gold to the connoisseur were matters of the greatest indifference to
him.
“Now, Bessie,” in a low tone, as he led her away to a retired nook
amid great trailing rose-vines, “don’t annoy me with your chaff about
marrying a poor girl. If I could have had my own way, I would have
met another, a sweeter fate. If I could have won the beautiful woman
whom I have admired above all others,” with a tender gaze into her
downcast, blushing face, a look which spoke volumes, “then I would have
had a chance at happiness. But as it is,” with a deep sigh, “I must--I
have--resigned all hope; for she, alas! is the wife of another man!”
“Rick!” in a tone of remonstrance, but at the same time one little hand
stole into his with a faint, wavering touch, “you must not speak in
that way. It is wrong, awfully wrong; and what would Vernon say?”
Richard smiled sadly.
“He would say that he has had the best of it in the race for the prize.
Bessie, why did you not give me a chance--half a chance--to win you?”
She turned shyly away.
“Don’t ask such foolish questions,” she returned. “Run away now like a
good boy, and see if Rosamond is ever coming.”
“I will not.”
He glanced furtively about. Barnes, the gardener, had removed the
_débris_, and quietly retired. They were alone in that retired nook in
the conservatory. Richard lifted Mrs. Vernon’s hand to his lips.
“No, I will not go and leave you!” he cried, eagerly. “I have sought an
interview with you for a long time, Bessie, and sought in vain. This is
my chance now, and I am going to avail myself of it. Bessie! Bessie!
don’t turn away from me so coldly, sweetheart--”
He sunk into a seat at her side, for she had seated herself upon a
carved divan amid the fragrant Maréchal Niel roses, whose perfume
loaded the air. He took her hand in his and drew the dusky head down
upon his shoulder. She started up with a little cry.
“Don’t! Oh, Rick, it is shameful in you! I--I have always cared, of
course. I might indeed have more than liked you in time if--if--well,
fate hadn’t decreed that I should marry Arnold Vernon! It is too late
now to talk about it--too late!”
The little sinner had never thought of such a thing as marrying Richard
Raleigh, or caring for him either, for that matter, though she had
known him all her life. But the situation was strong, and the effect
too much of a temptation to be resisted. But Bessie Vernon was destined
to pay dearly for that moment of sentimental folly.
Richard sighed deeply.
“You are Arnold Vernon’s wedded wife, and I--I am going to marry
Lillian Leigh!” he said, slowly.
“Why should you?” she asked, softly; “you need not marry any one,
Richard, if you--do--not love her! And I do not see what you gain by
this marriage. She is a poor girl!” with a swift, keen glance into his
startled face, “and I see no object in marrying her at all if you do
not--if--you care a little for some one--else!”
He smiled caressingly.
“You are a dear little woman, Bessie,” he said, softly, his dark eyes
upon her face with bold admiration; “but you do not understand a man’s
heart. We are often compelled to submit to much that is unpalatable,
and forego many joys that would make us happy if attainable.
“‘Much must be borne which is hard to bear;
Much given away which it were sweet to keep,’
Owen Meredith tells us; and Owen speaks from extended experience.
We have, all of us, to bear our burdens and keep silent, and try to
make as much out of this life as we can. And you would not doom me to
lasting loneliness, Bessie?”
“To be sure not. Hush! Is not that Rosamond coming at last?”
“Yes, confound her! So my blissful moment is over! Bessie, I have
something to say to you, and I must communicate with you in some way.
May I write to you? Will you answer the letter? It will make me very
happy to confide my griefs to you, if you will permit me to write.”
Silence! Light footsteps drawing nearer and nearer, and then a shrill
voice, calling loudly:
“Bessie! Bessie! where are you? I am ready and waiting.”
“Answer me, Bessie. Will you reply to my letter? Don’t refuse me. I
swear you will never regret it. I want your advice; and I must speak my
mind for once, for, oh! I have suffered! May I write? Will you reply?”
The door of the conservatory opened, and Rosamond’s eyes roved through
the flower-scented place.
“Bessie! Ah, yes, there you are! Well, come, dear; I am all ready.”
“Answer me!” reiterated Richard, in a low tone. “Yes or no? Rosie’s
coming in--be quick! Which is it to be?”
“Yes.”
A gleam of devilish triumph flashed into his dusky eyes and lighted up
his face. He caught her hand in his and pressed his lips upon it, and
then Bessie Vernon arose.
She was quite pale, and looked uneasy. Already conscience was pricking
her with its sharp sting, and reminding her that she had done wrong.
Yet it was only a brief reminder, for Bessie Vernon was not troubled
with an undue amount of conscience.
And then they joined Rosamond at the door of the conservatory, and
a little later the two ladies drove away to the elegant home of the
Vernons. And then Richard went back to his father.
Grafton Raleigh was waiting for his son in the library, upon his pale
face a look of perturbation.
“Our fears are well founded,” he began, as soon as his son had entered
the room; “that meddling woman has certainly been looking at that
document! Why? Because this is not the way in which I placed it in the
drawer. I remember perfectly, and indeed I was cautious enough to place
it in a certain position, that I might know if it should be displaced.
If only that fellow Buckley had not called just then! I knew that his
business with me was urgent, or I would have declined seeing him. But
he saved me a hundred dollars by the call, for he gave me a pointer
which will prevent the loss of at least that much. Yet it would have
been better to have lost fifty times one hundred than to let Bessie
Vernon get hold of our secret. The sly little cat! She is always where
she isn’t wanted, and it seems as if she were destined to find out all
our family affairs. Rick, I’m afraid of that woman.”
“I am not.”
Richard spoke quietly, but there was a meaning tone in the low, soft,
sneering voice.
“Just leave all that to me, father, and I agree to close Bessie
Vernon’s lips effectually--so effectually that no matter what happens
she will not dare to speak. Don’t ask me how or why. I have not wasted
a moment of time this morning. I know her nature; her insatiable love
of conquest, and her vanity which is never satisfied. I have made hay
while the sun shines; I have won her sympathy through her overweening
vanity, and I am not afraid of Bessie Vernon or all that she may
know. I am no more afraid of any developments which she may make than
I am afraid of the wind. What troubles me in regard to this deuced
unpleasant business is, whether or no Lillian has begun to suspect.”
“The deuce! We had better be dead if that be true.”
Richard nodded.
“And so I say, father, that the sooner the marriage is over, and she
becomes my property, the better for our cause. Shall I endeavor to
bring about the marriage in a few days?”
“Days?” Grafton Raleigh started. “If you can--all right, of course,”
he returned, thoughtfully; “the sooner the better. Can not you touch
Lillian’s pride and arouse her jealousy, so that she will be goaded
into consent to an immediate marriage?”
Richard’s face grew grave.
“I will send for her to come down to the drawing-room,” he said. “She
shall appoint our wedding-day at once, and the sooner the better. I
know how to manage her; never fear, father! And--ahem!--I fancy I can
manage Bessie Vernon also.”
He rang the bell, and when a servant appeared he sent him to request
Miss Leigh to come down to the drawing-room.
CHAPTER XXI.
IN AMBUSH.
“Come up to your room, Rosamond. See! I have given you one across the
hall from mine. Our guests will arrive shortly, and Arnold is down
in the drawing-room, waiting with as much patience as a man usually
bestows upon his wife. Make haste, dear, and get off your wraps, while
I run down and pacify him.”
And Bessie Vernon, just arrived at the handsome home which claimed her
as its mistress, flitted from the room.
Rosamond laid aside her hat and wrap, and seated herself before the
cheerful fire in the pretty blue-and-gold chamber--a triumph of modern
art and æsthetic taste.
“Jack will be surprised,” she said to herself, as she leaned her head
against the puffy blue satin chair-back and closed her eyes languidly.
“But he will call to-night to join our party bound for the Van Alstyne
dinner. And after that--” She arose slowly to her feet, and moved over
to the window, her face full of triumph, and her eyes shining with
malice--the malice of a woman who hates another with all her heart,
and sees a way open to vent her cruel spite upon her. “Ah! Lenore Van
Alstyne,” she hissed, bleakly, “you have had your day--my turn is
coming now. You have queened it over me in the past, it is my hour of
triumph now. I hate her--the cold, proud, grand lady, who makes us all
feel our inferiority; but I shall be even with her yet. I see the way
open before me.”
She hated Lenore with all the hatred of which her narrow mind was
capable. Her nature was cruel and vindictive, and she would leave no
stone unturned to humiliate the woman so much her superior. A rap at
the door of her room made her turn swiftly.
“Let me in, Rosamond!” called Mrs. Vernon’s voice through the key-hole.
“I want to tell you something.”
A little later Rosamond and her hostess were sitting before the fire,
while Bessie chattered volubly away.
“He is coming here to-night, after the Van Alstyne dinner--Mr.
Arbuthnot, I mean, Rosamond--and, dear me, you incorrigible girl! you
pretend not to understand; but I mean--here it is in plain English--I
mean that you shall marry him!”
“Bessie!”
“I mean that you shall become Mrs. Arbuthnot before many months are
past,” repeated Mrs. Vernon, impressively. “Your coming here is just
providential. I had been wanting you here for Mr. Arbuthnot’s visit,
and fate has decreed that you should come.”
“But, Bessie, I--”
“Oh, yes! I suppose it is quite in order for you to respectfully
decline, etc., but all the same I will wager that you will marry Mr.
Arbuthnot. True, he is old, but money, like charity, covers a multitude
of sins and short-comings. And, besides, you will stand a chance of
being a rich widow some day--a real queen--living in royal state. In