Wee Wifie Part 37

"Oh! do you know, Mr. Trafford," she said, gravely, "I think it is very wrong of you to encourage Mr. Erle to come so often to Beulah Place. Fern is pretty--very pretty, and Mr. Erle is fond of saying pleasant things to her, and all the time he knows Mr. Huntingdon wishes him to marry Miss Selby. He has no right to make himself so agreeable to your sister; and I think you ought to keep him in better order."

"Oh! I don't pretend to be Erle's mentor," he returned, a little sulkily; for he thought he saw her drift to keep him from talking of his own feelings. "I never interfere with other fellows."

"Yes, but Fern is your sister," in a reproachful voice; "and I do think you are to blame in this. Why do you not tell him that he must leave your sister alone, and keep to Miss Selby. Your grandfather would be very angry if he knew of these visits to Beulah Place, and then Mr. Erle would get into trouble."

"I can't help that," was the indifferent answer. "Erle must take his chance with the rest of us; he knows as well as I do the risk he runs." And in spite of her pre-occupation, Crystal noticed a curious change in Percy's tone.

"Do you mean that he would get into serious trouble? is that what you would imply? I do not think you are doing your duty, Mr. Trafford, if you do not warn him of Mr. Huntingdon's displeasure. Mr. Erle is weak, he is easily gulled, but he has good principles; you could soon induce him to break off his visits."

"I don't see that I need trouble myself about another fellow's love affair; I have too much on my own mind. Of course you look impatient, Miss Davenport, it is a crime to speak of my own feelings; but how can you expect me to take interest in another fellow when I am so utterly miserable myself."

"Mr. Trafford," she said, trying to control her impatience, "I wish you would let me speak to you for once, as though I were your friend,"

she would have subst.i.tuted the word sister, but she feared to provoke one of his outbursts of indignant pleading.

"You know you may say what you like to me," he returned, moved by the gentleness of her speech, for she had never been so gracious to him before. "You have more influence over me than any one else in the world. If you could make me a better man, Miss Davenport."

"I would give much to do it," she answered, in a low voice that thrilled him strangely. "Mr. Trafford, will you be angry with me if I speak to you very frankly, and earnestly--as earnestly," here she paused, "as though we were bidding each other good-bye, to-night, for a long time."

"If you will call me Percy," he replied, with sudden vehemence, "you shall say what you like to me."

"Very well," she answered, with a faint smile at his boyish insistance, "it shall be Percy then--no, do not interrupt me," as he seemed about to speak. "I am very troubled and unhappy about Mr.

Erle's visits; they are doing harm to Fern, and I must tell you, once for all, that you are not doing your duty either to your sister or cousin."

"Erle again," he muttered, moodily.

"Yes, because the matter lies very close to my heart, for I dearly love your sister. Mr. Trafford--Percy, I mean--you have youth, health, talents--the whole world lies before you; why do you envy your cousin, because he is likely to be a richer man than you?"

"He has robbed me of my rightful inheritance," was the moody answer.

"It could never be yours," she returned, quickly; "a Trafford will never be Mr. Huntingdon's heir."

"I would change my name."

"That would avail you little," with a touch of her old scorn, for the speech displeased her. "Mr. Huntingdon would never leave his money to the son of the man whom he hated, and of the daughter whose disobedience embittered his life. Mr. Erle has to answer for no sins but his own."

"He had better be careful though," was the quick response.

"What, have you done him mischief already? Why--why are you not more generous to the poor boy? Why do you encourage these visits that you know will anger Mr. Huntingdon? Why do you tempt him from his duty?

Percy, I implore you to be true to yourself and him. Look into your own heart and see if you are acting an honorable part."

"You are always hard on me," he returned, sullenly. "Who has been blackening my name to you?"

"No one, no one," she answered, quickly; "but you are a reckless talker, and I have gathered much from my own observation. You have told me more than once that you are in debt; sometimes I fear you gamble. Oh!" as a dark flush mounted to his forehead, "I should be grieved to think that this is true."

"You would hate me all the more, I suppose," in a defiant voice.

"Indeed I do not hate you, my poor boy; but you make me very angry sometimes. Do you know me so little as to think I could ever bring myself to love a gambler, or one who tried to rob another of his inheritance--one who was so afraid of poverty that he deserted his mother for the loaves and fishes of the man who was her worst enemy?"

"The old story," in a despairing voice; "will you never give me even the benefit of an excuse--will you never allow me to defend myself?"

"I am not your judge," was the cold reply; and then, as she saw the misery of his face, she relented. "Indeed, it is not too late to retrieve the past. If you have debts, if you are in trouble, own it frankly to your grandfather."

"And be turned out of the house a beggar?"

"What of that," she replied, cheerfully; "you have a profession; every one says how clever you are--what a splendid barrister you will make.

You can take pupils; success and money will come to you in time."

"Too late," he muttered; "I can not free myself." Then, with a sudden change of look and tone, "Crystal, if I do this--if I leave Belgrave House, will you give me a hope of winning you in the future?"

She shook her head; "I can not give you that hope."

"Why not?" he demanded, fiercely.

"Because I belong to another," she answered, slowly, and there came a wonderful light in her eyes; "and for his sake I will live as I am to my life's end."

They had reached Beulah Place by this time, and Mrs. Watkins's shop was in sight. There were few pa.s.sers-by, so no one noticed why Percy suddenly stood still and seized his companion's hands.

"You love another man? You dare to tell me this?"

"I tell you this for your own good, and that you may never speak to me again as you have done. You must not be angry with me for telling you the truth; and now will you ring the bell, for there is no need to go through the shop?"

"I am not coming in," he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "I can not trust myself."

"Then we will say good-bye here," was the quiet answer, and she pressed his hands kindly. "Forgive me if I have made you unhappy, but indeed it is your fault, and I thought it better to tell you the truth. Good-bye, my poor boy;" but though her voice was full of gentleness and pity, he scarcely heard it. He had wrung her hands, almost throwing them from him, and had turned away without a word.

Crystal looked after him rather wistfully; her heart felt strangely soft to him to-night. "Was it wrong to tell him, I wonder?" she said to herself, as she quickly retraced her steps. "He is terribly reckless, one never knows how he may take things. It was good of him to listen to me so patiently; and now he has gone away sore and angry."

Crystal was walking very fast now, as though she had suddenly remembered some errand. As an empty hansom pa.s.sed her she hailed it.

"Will you drive me to Victoria Station," she said to the man in a business-like tone; "I want to meet the 6:30 train from Singleton. I think there is time."

"None too much," was the somewhat gruff answer, "but my horse is fresh;" and Crystal drew into a corner and tried to curb her impatience by watching the pa.s.sers-by; but her fear of being too late kept her restless and miserable.

As they drove into Victoria Station a handsome barouche, with a pair of fine bays, attracted Crystal's attention. The footman had got down and was making inquiries of a porter. "Singleton train just due,"

Crystal heard the man say, as she handed the cabman his fare; and as she quickly pa.s.sed through the station, the train slowly drew up at the platform.

Only just in time! Crystal pressed eagerly forward, scanning the occupants of all the carriages until she came to the last.

There were two pa.s.sengers in this compartment; a young lady, with a good-natured freckled face, was speaking to a very tall man who was standing in the center of the carriage. "You must let me help you out," Crystal heard her say in a pleasant countrified voice, "and wait with you until your friends find you;" and then came the answer in the deep tones Crystal knew so well.

"Thank you, you are very kind. My unfortunate infirmity gains new friends for me everywhere; so after all, you see, even blindness has its alleviations, Miss Merriman."

"Oh, I will be sure to tell papa what you say; it will be such a comfort to him. Now, will you put your hand on my shoulder--it is a deep step--take care;" but as Raby tried to follow this instruction, a little gloved hand, that certainly did not belong to Miss Merriman, gently guided him and placed him in safety.

Miss Merriman nodded and smiled her thanks.

"There, you are all right now. What is the matter Mr. Ferrers?"

"I thought some one touched me," he returned, with a puzzled look, "and you were on my other side, so I suppose it was some kind stranger."