The Fatal Glove Part 12

"And while it rested there--while your eyes were turned away, that hand was touched--by something soft, and warm, and sentient--too warm, too pa.s.sionate, to be the kiss of a disembodied soul. Living human lips, that scorched into your flesh, and thrilled you as nothing else ever had the power to thrill you!"

Margie trembled convulsively, her color came and went, and she clasped and unclasped her hands with nervous agitation.

"Am I not speaking the truth?"

"Yes, yes--go on. I am listening."

"Was there, in all the world, at that time, more than one person whose kiss had the power to thrill you as that kiss thrilled you? Answer me, Margie Harrison!"

"I will not! You have no right to ask me!" she replied, pa.s.sionately.

"It is useless to attempt disguise, Margie. I can read your very thoughts. At the moment you felt that touch, you knew instinctively who was near you. You felt and acknowledged the presence of one who had no right to be kissing the hand of another man's promised wife. And yet the forbidden sin of that person was sweet to you. You stooped and pressed your lips where his had been! Whose?"

"I do not know--indeed I do not! Why do you torture me so, Alexandrine?"

"My poor child, I will say no more. Good-night, Margie. I trust you will have a pleasant evening with Mr. Trevlyn."

Margie caught the flowing skirt of Miss Lee's dress.

"You shall tell me all! I must know. I have heard too much to be kept in ignorance of the remainder."

"So be it. You shall hear all. You know that Archer Trevlyn was in the graveyard, or near it, that night, though you might not see him. Yet you were sure of his presence--"

"I was not! I tell you, I was not!" she cried, fiercely. "I saw no one; not a person!"

"Then, if you were not sure of his presence, you loved some other; else why did you put your lips where those of a stranger had been? In that case, you were doubly false!"

Margie's cheeks were crimson with shame. She covered her face with her hands, and was silent.

"How many can you love at once, Margie Harrison?"

"Alexandrine, you are cruel!--cruel! Is it not enough for you to tell me the truth, without torturing me thus?"

A flash of conscious triumph crossed the cold face of Miss Lee, and then she was calm as before.

"No, I am not cruel--only truthful. You cannot deny that you knew Archer Trevlyn was near you. You will not deny it. Margie, I know what love is--I know something of its keen, subtle instincts. I should recognize the vicinity of the man I loved, though all around me were black as midnight."

"Well, what then?" asked Margie, defiantly.

"Wait and see. I followed you out that night, with no definite purpose in my mind. Perhaps it was curiosity to see what a romantic woman, about to be married to a man she does not love, would do, I stood outside the hedge of arbor vitae while you were inside. I saw the tall, shadowy figure which bent its head upon your hand, and I saw you put your mouth where his had been. When you went away I did not go. Something kept me behind. A moment afterward, I heard voices inside the hedge--just one exclamation from each person--I could swear to that! and then--O heaven!"

"What then!"

"A blow! a dull, terrible thud, a smothered groan, a fall--and I stood there powerless to move--stricken dumb and motionless! And while I stood transfixed, some person rushed past me, breathless, panting, reckless of everything save escape! Margie, it was so dark that I could not be positive, but I am morally certain that the person I saw was Archer Trevlyn!"

"My G.o.d!" Margie cowered down to the floor, and hid her face in the folds of Alexandrine's dress.

"Hear me through," Miss Lee went on relentlessly, her face growing colder and harder with every word. "Hear me through and then decide for yourself. Let no opinion of mine bias your judgment. I stood there a moment longer, and then, when suspended volition came back to me, I fled from the place. Margie, words cannot express to you my distress, my bitter, burning anguis.h.!.+ It was like to madness. But sooner than have divulged my suspicions, I would have killed myself! For I loved Archer Trevlyn with a depth and fervor which your cool nature has no conception of. I love him still, though I feel convinced, from the bottom of my soul, that he is a murderer!"

Her cheeks grew brilliant as red roses, her eyes sparkled like stars.

Margie looked into the bewilderingly beautiful face with suspended breath. The woman's pa.s.sionate presence scorched her; she could not be herself, with those eyes of fire blazing down into hers.

Alexandrine resumed, "I am wasting time. Let me hurry on to the end, or your lover will be here before I finish."

"My lover!" cried Margie, in a dazed sort of way, "_my lover_? O yes I remember, Archer Trevlyn was coming. Is it nearly time for him?"

Alexandrine took the shrinking, cowering girl by the shoulders, and lifted her into a seat.

"Rouse yourself, Margie. I have not done. I want you to hear it all."

"Yes, I am hearing."

It was pitiful to see how helpless and weak the poor child had become.

All sense of joy and sorrow seemed to have died out of her.

"I feared so much that when the body of the murdered man should be discovered, there would be some clue which would point to the guilty party! Such a night as I pa.s.sed, while they searched for the body! I thought I should go mad!" She hid her face in her hands, and her figure shook like a leaf in the autumn wind.

"When the dog took us to the graveyard, I thought I would be the first inside--I would see if there was anything left on the ground to point to the real murderer. You remember that I picked up something, do you not?"

"I do. Your glove, was it not?"

"Yes. It was my glove! I defy the whole world to take it from me! I would die before such a proof should be brought against the man I love!" she cried wildly. "See here!"

She drew from her bosom a kid glove, stained and stiff with blood.

"Margie, have you ever seen it before? Look here. It has been mended; sewed with blue silk! Do you remember anything about it?"

"Yes; I saw you mend it at Cape May," she answered, the words forced from her, apparently, without her volition.

"You are right. He had torn it while rowing me out, one morning. I saw the rent and offered to repair it. He makes his gloves wear well, doesn't he?"

"O don't! don't! how can you! Alexandrine, wake me, for mercy's sake!

This is some horrible dream."

"I would to heaven it were! It would be happier for us all. But if you feel any doubt about the ident.i.ty of the glove, look here." She turned back the wrist, and there on the inside, written in the bold characters which were a peculiarity of Arch Trevlyn's handwriting, was the name in full--_Archer Trevlyn_.

Margie shrank back and covered her eyes, as if to shut out the terrible proof. Alexandrine returned the glove to her bosom, and then continued:

"The handkerchief found near Mr. Linmere was marked with the single letter A. Whose name begins with that letter?"

"Stop, I implore you! I shall lose my reason! I am blinded--I cannot see!

O, if I could only die and leave it all!"

"You will not die. I bore it, and still live; and it is so much harder for me, because I have to bear it all alone. You have your religion to help you, Margie. Surely that will bear you up! I have heard all you pious people prate enough of its service in time of trouble to remember that consolation."

"Don't, Alexandria! It is sinful to scorn G.o.d's holy religion. Yes, you are right; it will help me. G.o.d himself will help me, if I ask him. He knows how much I stand in need of it."

"I am glad you are so likely to be supported," returned the girl, half-earnestly, half-contemptuously. "Are you satisfied in regard to Mr. Archer Trevlyn?"