Jupiter Lights Part 56

"Tell her who it is;--that it's important."

In another moment Dilsey opened the door, and ushered him into the outer room. It was a square apartment, bare and rough, lighted only from above; its sole article of furniture was a divan in the centre; an inner door led to the bath-room beyond. Upon the divan Cicely was lying, her head propped by cus.h.i.+ons, the soft waves of her hair loose on her shoulders. Delicate white draperies, profusely trimmed with lace, enveloped her, exhaling an odor of violets.

"Cicely, where is Eve?" demanded Paul.

"Wait outside, Dilsey," said Cicely. Then, when the girl had disappeared, "She has gone to Charleston," she answered.

"And from there?"

"I don't know."

"When did she start!"

"Two hours ago."

--"Immediately after leaving me," Paul reflected, audibly.

"Yes."

"But there's no steamer at this hour."

"One of the field hands rowed her up to Mayport; there she was to take a wagon, and drive inland to a railway station."

"She could only hit the Western Road."

"Yes; but she can make a connection, farther on, which will enable her to reach Charleston by to-morrow night."

"I shall be twelve hours behind her, then; the first steamer leaves this evening. You are a traitor, Cicely! Why didn't you let me know?"

"She did not wish it."

"I know what she wishes."

"Yes, she loves you--if you mean that. But--I agree with her."

"Agree with her how?"

"That the barrier is too great. You would end by hating her," said Cicely.

"I'm the judge of that! If any one hates her, it is you; you constantly torture her, you are merciless."

"She shot my husband."

"She shot your murderer! Another moment and Ferdie might have killed you."

"And if I preferred it? At any rate, _she_ had no right to interfere,"

cried Cicely, springing up.

"Why were you running away from him, then, if you preferred it? You fled to her room, and asked for help; you begged her to come out with you."

"It was on account of baby," answered Cicely, her voice like that of a little girl, her breast beginning to heave.

"And she saved your child's life a second time--on Lake Superior."

"I know it--I know it. But you cannot expect--"

"I expect nothing; you are absolutely unreasonable, and profoundly selfish."

"I'm not selfish. I only want to make her suffer!" cried Cicely, with sparkling eyes.

Paul looked at her sternly. "In that dress you appear like a courtesan; and now you talk like one. It is a good thing my brother was taken off, after all--with such a wife!"

Cicely sank down at his feet. "Oh, don't say that, Paul; it is not true.

All this--these are the things that are underneath, they are the things that touch me; you never see them when I am dressed. It is only that I always liked to be nice for _him_; that is the reason I had all this lace; and I keep it up, because I want him to think of me always as just the same; yes, even when I am old. For I know he does think of me, and he sees me too; he is often here. Listen,--I can't help hating Eve, Paul. But it only comes in little whiffs, now and then. Supposing _I_ had shot _her_, could you like _me_, after that?" She rose, holding up her hands to him pleadingly. "In one way I love Eve."

"Yet you let her go! Heaven knows where she is now."

He turned his head away sharply. But she saw his tears. "No, Paul," she cried, terrified, "she isn't dead--if you mean that; she told me once, 'As long as he is in the world, I want to live!'"

"Well--I shall go after her," said Paul, controlling himself. He turned towards the door.

Cicely followed him. "Say good-by to me." She put up her face.

He touched her forehead with his lips. Then he held her off for a moment, and looked at her. "Poor child!" he said.

He returned to the house for his travelling-bag; he remembered that he had left it in the parlor upon his arrival, five hours before.

The pleasant, shabby room, as he opened the door, held a characteristic group: Miss Sabrina, gliding about with plum-cake; the judge, pouring cherry-bounce; Mistress Nannie Singleton, serenely seated, undergoing the process of being brushed by Clementine and Powlyne, who made hissing sounds like hostlers, and, standing on one foot in a bent att.i.tude, held out behind a long leg. Rupert Singleton, seated in the largest arm-chair, was evidently paying compliments to Miss Leontine, who, gratified and embarra.s.sed, and much entangled with her winegla.s.s, her gloves, and her plate of cake, hardly knew, to use a familiar expression, whether she was on her head or her heels. Not that Miss Sabrina would have mentioned her heels; to her, heels, s.h.i.+ns, and ribs did not exist, in a public way; they were almost medical terms, belonging to the vocabulary of the surgeon.

"I beg your pardon; I think I left my bag here," said Paul.

"I had it taken to your room," answered Miss Sabrina, coming forward.

"Powlyne, go with Mr. Tennant."

"Let her bring it down, please; I am leaving immediately," said Paul, shaking hands with his hostess in farewell.

The judge followed him out. "Leaving, did you say? But you've only just come."

"I am going to Charleston.--I must follow Miss Bruce without a moment's delay."

"Has _she_ gone!" There was a gleam of triumph in the old Georgian's eyes as he said this. "You will find Charleston a very pleasant place,"

he added, politely.

x.x.xIV.