The Fatal Glove Part 14

He picked it up, and tore off the wrappings. The betrothal ring rolled out and fell with a hollow sound on the floor. The ring he had put upon her finger--the ring he had seen her kiss more than once! He looked over the contents of the box hurriedly; every little thing he had ever given her was there, even to a bunch of faded violets!

But the letter? He had almost forgotten it, in pondering over the dread significance of the return of his presents. He took it up, and broke the seal with slow deliberation. It would not tell him any news, but it might contain an explanation. His face grew pale as ashes as he read, and he put his hand to his heart, as though he had received a blow there. Twice he read it through, and at the last reading he seemed to realize its dread portent.

"She gives me up! Margie renounces me! Strangers we must be henceforth!

What does it all mean? Am I indeed awake, or is this only a painful dream?"

He read a few lines of the missive a third time. Something of the old dominant spirit of Archer Trevlyn came back to him.

"There is some misunderstanding. Margie has been told some dire falsehood!" he exclaimed, starting up. "I will know everything. She shall explain fully."

He seized his hat and hurried to her residence. The family were at breakfast, the servant said, who opened the door. He asked to see Miss Harrison.

"Miss Harrison left this morning, sir, in the early express," said the man, eying Trevlyn with curious interest.

"Went in the early train! Can you tell me where she has gone?"

"I cannot. Perhaps her aunt, Miss Farnsworth, or Miss Lee can do so."

"Very well;" he made a desperate effort to seem calm, for the servant's observant eye warned him that he was not acting himself. "Will you please ask Miss Lee to favor me with a few minutes of her time?"

Miss Lee came into the parlor where Archer waited, a little afterward.

Archer, himself, was not more changed than she. Her countenance was pale even to ghastliness, with the exception of a bright red spot on either cheek, and her eyes shone with such an unnatural light, that even Archer, absorbed as he was in his own troubles, noticed it. She welcomed him quietly, in a somewhat constrained voice, and relapsed into silence.

Archer plunged at once upon what he came to ascertain.

"The servant tells me that Miss Harrison left New York this morning. I am very anxious to communicate with her. Can you tell me wither she has gone?"

"I cannot. She left before any of the family were up, and though she left notes for both her aunt and her business agent, Mr. Farley, she did not in either of them mention her destination."

"And she did not speak to you about it?"

"She did not. I spent a part of last evening with her, just before you came, but she said nothing to me of her intention. She was not quite well, and desired me to ask you to excuse her from going to the opera."

"And you did not see her this morning?"

"No. I have not seen her since I left her room to come down to you last night. When I returned from my interview with you, I tapped at her door--in fact, I tapped at it several times during the evening, for I feared she might be worse--but I got no reply, and supposed she had retired. No one saw her this morning, except Florine, her maid, and Peter, the coachman, who drove her to the depot."

"And she went entirely alone?"

"She did from the house. Peter took her in the carriage."

"_From the House!_ But after that?" he asked, eagerly.

"Mr. Trevlyn," she said, coldly, "excuse me."

"I must know!" he cried; pa.s.sionately grasping her arm; "tell me, did she set out upon this mysterious journey alone?"

"I must decline to answer you."

"But I will not accept any denial! Miss Lee, you know what Margie was to me. There has arisen a fearful misunderstanding between us. I must have it explained. Why will you trifle with me? You must tell me what you know."

"I do not wish to arouse suspicions, Mr. Trevlyn, which may have no foundation to rest on. Only for your peace of mind do I withhold any information I may possess on the subject."

"It is a cruel kindness. Tell me everything at once, I beg of you!"

"Then, if it distresses you, do not blame me; Peter saw Mr. Louis Castrani at the depot, and is confident he went in the same train, in the same car, with Miss Harrison."

"Castrani! Great Heaven!" he staggered into a chair. "Is it possible?

Margie, my Margie, that I thought so good and pure and truthful, false to me! It cannot, cannot be! I will not believe it!"

"I do not ask you to," said Alexandrine, proudly. "I insinuated nothing.

I only replied to your question."

"Pardon me, Miss Lee. I am not quite myself this morning. I will go now. I thank you for what you have told me, and trust it will all be explained."

"I trust so," answered Miss Lee, turning to leave the room.

"Stay a moment! To what depot did Peter drive her?"

"The Northern, I think he said."

"Again I thank you, and good-morning."

He hurried away, got into the first coach he came across, and was driven to the Northern depot.

He was somewhat acquainted with the ticket agent, and a.s.suming as nonchalant an air as was possible in his present disturbed state, he strolled into the office. After a little indifferent conversation, he said.

"By the way, Harris, do you know Mr. Castrani, the young Cuban, who has turned the heads of so many of our fair belles? Some one was telling me that he left town this morning."

"Castrani! Yes, I think I do. He did leave for the North this morning, in the early express. I marked his baggage for him. He had been hurried so in his preparations, he said, that he had no time for it."

"Indeed? It's a bore to be hurried. Where was he checked to?"

"Well, really, the name of the place has escaped me. Some little town in New Hamps.h.i.+re or Maine, I think. We do so much of this business that my memory is treacherous about such things."

"Were you speaking of Castrani?" asked Tom Clifford, a friend of Archer's removing his cigar from his mouth. "Deuced fine fellow! Wish I had some of his spare s.h.i.+llings. Though he's generous as a prince. Met him this morning just as he was coming down the steps of the Astor. Had to get up early to see after that confounded store of mine. Walker's too lazy to open it mornings."

"You met Mr. Castrani?" said Archer, referring to the point.

"Yes. He told me he was going away. Woman somewhere mixed up in the case.

Said he expected to find one somewhere--well, hanged if I can tell where.

There's always a woman at the bottom of everything."

"He did not mention who this one was?"

"Not he. But I must be going. It's nearly lunch time. Good morning."

Trevlyn stopped a few moments with Mr. Harris, and then went back to his rooms. He was satisfied. Hard as it was for him to believe it, he had no other alternative. Margie was false, and she had gone away from him under the protection of Castrani. He could have forgiven her anything but that.

If she had ceased to love him, and transferred her affections, he could still have wished her all happiness, if she had only been frank with him.