Lillian's vow or, The mystery of Raleigh House
which case you will not forget your old friend Bess. Eh, Rosamond?”
Rosamond laughed uneasily.
“You are speaking of impossibilities,” she returned, coldly. “I may as
well tell you now as later. My affections are already engaged. I love
one of the noblest men in the world,” she added, with a tragical air.
Mrs. Vernon arose to her feet, and with both white jeweled hands
uplifted in dumb surprise, turned slowly around upon one foot, like a
revolving automaton, and gazed full into Rosamond’s anxious face. Then
she burst into a peal of silvery laughter.
“Rosamond, you are the funniest girl--just too awfully funny for
anything. Your affections! Who in the world said anything about
affections? I was speaking of marriage. You love the noblest man, and
so on. Dear, dear! you’ll be the death of me, Rosamond! And, come what
may, I still adhere to my opinion that you will win old Arbuthnot, the
railroad king. He is already interested in you. He saw you with me
one day, when we were driving in the park, and he asked me afterward
who you were. Said that he had never seen a more queenly lady, and
that there was something about you which reminded him of the late Mrs.
Arbuthnot.”
Rosamond shuddered.
“Don’t, Bessie!” she cried, angrily. “I will tell you plainly that I--I
care more for Mr. Lyndon than for any man in the universe.”
Bessie shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of mock surprise.
“The end of the world is at hand,” she exclaimed, laughingly. “Now,
Rosamond, you know as well as I that you will never marry that
newspaper scribbler--never! No, not though you go to your grave
unwedded, which I am certain is an act of which you will never be
guilty. Why, it is perfectly laughable. The idea of you, only daughter
of Grafton Raleigh, millionaire, to think seriously for one moment of a
poor newspaper scribbler! Of course I understand; it is merely a jest
of yours, Rosie. And now I am going to ring for refreshments. We will
have a cozy lunch together, after which it will be time to dress for
the affair at Van Alstyne’s.”
* * * * *
The great dining-hall of the Van Alstyne mansion was brilliantly
illuminated. The sheen of light fell athwart the long table with its
glittering array of gold and silver, and brought out into strong relief
the gorgeous uniforms of the foreign officers and the rich toilets of
the ladies.
At the head of the table sat Lenore, in a robe of rich black lace,
through which her snowy arms and shoulders gleamed like polished
marble. Inky black was the entire costume, lighted up by the shimmering
topaz ornaments that she wore--yellow and uncanny. Her face was as pale
as death, save for a round red spot which looked like the hectic flush
of fever. Her eyes were calm and proud as they swept the glittering
assemblage, her red lips slightly curling as though with utter scorn.
Rosamond and Mrs. Vernon watched her with furtive eyes. Rosamond in
pale-blue silk and white lace, Bessie in a bewildering combination of
scarlet and gold. Mr. Arbuthnot had been duly presented to Rosamond,
who saw before her a red-faced, rather pompous-looking old man who
seemed to feel the dignity of his own position; and also he seemed to
be really attracted by Miss Raleigh’s charms. At last the banquet was
at an end, and the guests filed back to the drawing-room. The clocks
all over the great house struck the hour of ten.
* * * * *
“Cyril, I am here.”
“Lenore! Oh, I feared that something was wrong, that all had been
discovered and our flight prevented. For it is better for you that
we go away quietly. But, Heaven be praised, you have come at last!
My darling, I have waited not so very long when the time is computed
by moments, but counted by the suffering of suspense which I have
endured, it has been an eternity. Lenore, are you ready to go at once?
Thornton’s yacht is down in the harbor and the boat is waiting to take
us thither. You leave no regrets behind, Lenore?”
She laughed, a low, scornful laugh.
“Regrets? Good heavens! This is the real beginning of my life! Cyril, I
have taken nothing which that man ever gave me. I have left my jewels,
my wardrobe--all; this plain merino dress was purchased with money
of my own, which I earned before I ever saw Van Van Alstyne. Nothing
of his goes with me. Come, I am ready. The air of this place--his
possessions--stifle me. You have written the letter, Cyril?”
“I have written the letter. Senator Van Alstyne will find it in his
room whenever he sees fit to enter it. And then he will learn the whole
truth, and he will know that I am only claiming my own--that there is
no sin--no crime in the step which we are taking. Lenore, love of my
life, let us go!”
In the shrubbery close beside them three dark forms were crouching,
watching the scene in perfect silence--Bessie Vernon, Rosamond Raleigh,
and Senator Van Alstyne.
CHAPTER XXII.
HER FLIGHT.
How still it was! Nothing to break the strange, uncanny silence of the
scene and the hour only the wind moaning feebly in the tree-tops. The
moon came forth from behind a mass of fleecy white clouds, and gazed
down upon the group crouching in ambush--the three who had hunted this
woman down to gloat over her ruin.
Cyril Fayne’s arms were about Lenore; her head rested upon his breast.
One brief pause of blissful silence, then they flitted away through the
shrubbery, in the pale radiance of the moonlight, straight to a side
gate which led from the grounds.
Not a word was spoken; not a sound betrayed the excitement which
quivered through the waiting group. Bessie Vernon flashed about at last
and clutched Rosamond’s arm in a nervous grip.
“Look at Van Alstyne!” she whispered. “He looks like a galvanized
corpse. Van Alstyne!” she called, softly, “are you dumb or dead? Don’t
you see that they are going--gone? Why don’t you make your way around
to the front and intercept them? No doubt there is a carriage in
waiting to take them away, and I happen to know that Harvey Thornton’s
yacht, ‘White Wings,’ is in the bay. I suppose he has an object in
anchoring there. Van Alstyne! in the name of Heaven, why don’t you do
something? They will be gone; and if nothing is done it will be too
late to spoil their game and put an end to their flight.”
And it never once occurred to this volatile butterfly that this man had
planned deeper, more terrible revenge than the mere circumvention of
the plan of escape together could ever have visited upon the two.
Slowly Van Van Alstyne turned, and his eyes met the gaze of the woman
who had plotted so well and successfully. Bessie shivered.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she cried. “Go! You have your revolver; I
saw it in your hand a moment ago. Why not use it? Not to--to kill--of
course not; that would be so dreadfully low and common--but it would
frighten them and make a scene. Then she will be disgraced forever.”
He turned slowly and faced her once more. He lifted his right hand
toward heaven--upon his face a look that was bad to see. He had gnawed
his under lip until the blood was beginning to trickle down upon his
stubbly beard.
“Curse her! Curse them both!” he hissed, bleakly. “My curse follow them
wherever they go! I curse them living--I curse them dead! No, I shall
not follow them, Bessie Vernon; I shall remain where I am and let them
take their departure undisturbed. Their punishment will be greater than
my disgrace. Let us return to the house. My plan of vengeance will soon
be revealed to you. I think it will satisfy even you.”
The _dénouement_ was so unexpected, this turn in affairs something
of which Bessie had not even dreamed, and for which she was totally
unprepared, she could only stand and stare blankly into Van Alstyne’s
pale, resolute face.
“I do not understand you,” she faltered. “How can you punish her if
you allow her to go on and elope with the man of her choice? You might
prevent the elopement, and then you could have held the threat of
public exposure and disgrace over her head in future--for the rest of
her natural life. My word for it, she would rather be dead than in your
power in that way. She would have been your slave henceforth; for in
case of any insubordination, a gentle reminder of her secret--in your
power--would bring my lady to her senses. Van Van Alstyne, I don’t
understand you. If Arnold were in your place now, how he would rant and
rave! He would be like a madman!”
“But I am not Arnold Vernon, and if I were, I am afraid I should do as
I am doing now!” he returned, still with that same ominous quiet in
tone and manner. “You will understand me later,” he added, with a grim
smile. “Believe me, Mrs. Vernon, I am quite competent to manage this
affair for myself. I advise you and Miss Raleigh to return to the house
now; I will follow directly. Ah, I see young Stuart coming; he will
escort you.”
A tall, fair-haired young fellow, with great gray eyes and an air of
nonchalance, made his way through the shrubbery and halted.
“Hope I don’t intrude; eh, Mrs. Vernon? Regular Paul Pry, am I not? Do
let me take you back to the house,” adding in a low tone, as Bessie
promptly laid her hand upon his arm: “We will go around by the longest
way.”
Rosamond was taken in charge by a bewhiskered foreign officer, and
they all moved away together, leaving the senator alone. His face was
as white as the face of a dead man; his hands were clinched fiercely
together; he was trembling in every limb.
“Deserted!” he said, aloud, the word cutting in upon the silence like
a knife; “deserted, abandoned, defied, made a mock of; I, senator and
millionaire, one of the richest men in the city, one whose word is law,
and who controls millions! Deserted by a pale-faced, trembling woman
because she does not, and never did, love me, but loves another man!
Ah--h!”
He gnashed his teeth in impotent rage. His pride was hurt, his
self-love wounded, his vanity immolated, and he stood like a skeleton
stripped of its flesh, alone in a howling wilderness, with only the
vultures of social scorn to prey upon him. Otherwise he was alone.
“Alone!” he muttered, harshly, after a time. “Well, I am no more alone
now than when she was with me. For we have always been apart. How I
hate her for the contumely, the shame, the humiliation that she has
brought upon my name! But I shall have revenge. If she were here now,
if she had returned to me a moment ago, or should even yet come back,
I would drag her into the house which she has disgraced, into the
presence of my guests, and tell the shameful story before them all. I
would have no pity, no mercy, nothing but revenge. That letter!” he
panted, as he strode hastily back to the house. “I will find the letter
which that villain said had been placed in my room for my perusal--yes,
I will read it, and then I shall know if the course which I have marked
out for myself be a wise one.”
He shut his lips resolutely together, and hastened around to a side
entrance to the brilliantly lighted mansion.
Once within the house, he hurried upstairs to his own room, and closed
its door behind him.
Upon the elegant dressing-table, with full-length mirror and with all
its costly toilet accessories, the gleam of a white envelope attracted
his attention. He snatched it up and tore it open with all the haste
and passion of a madman.
Several sheets of paper met his view, all covered with writing.
He recognized the chirography which he had seen upon the envelope
addressed to Lenore, and an imprecation passed his lips. Then, still
clutching the letter in one trembling hand, he sunk into the nearest
seat and began to read.
Down-stairs, Rosamond Raleigh and Mrs. Vernon had taken upon themselves
the task of entertaining the guests--assuming control of the
festivities.