Love Works Wonders Part 38

"Tell me what it was--I can judge far better than you."

It seemed to her fevered fancy that the song of the waves died away, as though they were listening; that the wind fell with a low sigh, and the birds ceased their song--a silence that was almost terrible fell around her--the blue sky seemed nearer to her.

"Speak to me, Vane!" she cried; "I am frightened!"

He drew her nearer to him.

"It is only fancy, my darling. When one has anything weighty to say, it seems as though earth and sky were listening. Look at me, think of me, and tell me all."

She could never remember how she began her story--how she told him the whole history of her life--of the happy years spent with her father in the Rue d'Orme, when she learned to love art and nature, when she learned to love truth for its own sake, and was brought up amid those kindly, simple-hearted artist friends, with such bitter scorn, such utter contempt of all conventionalities--of her keen and pa.s.sionate sorrow when her father died, and Sir Oswald took her home to Darrell Court, telling her that her past life was at an end forever, and that even the name she had inherited from her father must be changed for the name of her race--how after a time she had grown to love her home with a keen, pa.s.sionate love, born of pride in her race and in her name--of the fierce battle that raged always between her stern, uncompromising truth and the worldly polish Sir Oswald would have had her acquire.

She concealed nothing from him, telling him of her faults as well as her trials. She gave him the whole history of Aubrey Langton's wooing, and her contemptuous rejection of his suit.

"I was so proud, Vane," she said, humbly. "Heaven was sure to punish me.

I surrounded myself, as it were, with a barrier of pride, scorn, and contempt, and my pride has been brought low."

She told him of Sir Oswald's anger at her refusal to marry Aubrey, of her uncle's threat that he would marry and disinherit her, of her scornful disbelief--there was no incident forgotten; and then she came to the evening when Sir Oswald had opened the box to take out the diamond ring, and had spoken before them all of the roll of bank-notes placed there.

"That night, Vane," she said, "there was a strange unrest upon me. I could not sleep. I have had the same sensation when the air has been overcharged with electricity before a storm; I seemed to hear strange noises, my heart beat, my face was flushed and hot, every nerve seemed to thrill with pain. I opened the window, thinking that the cool night air would drive the fever from my brain.

"As I sat there in the profound silence, I heard, as plainly as I hear myself speaking now, footsteps--quiet, stealthy footsteps--go past my door.

"Let me explain to you that the library, where my uncle kept his cash-box and his papers, is on the ground floor; on the floor above that there are several guest-chambers. Captain Langton slept in one of these.

My uncle slept on the third floor, and, in order to reach his room, was obliged to go through the corridor where the rooms of Miss Hastings and myself were.

"I heard those quiet, stealthy footsteps, Vane, and my heart for a few moments beat painfully.

"But the Darrells were never cowards. I went to my door and opened it gently. I could see to the very end of the corridor, for at the end there was a large arched window, and a faint gray light coming from it showed me a stealthy figure creeping silently from Sir Oswald's room; the gray light showed me also a glimmer of steel, and I knew, almost by instinct, that that silent figure carried Sir Oswald's keys in its hands.

"In a moment I had taken my resolve. I pushed my door to, but did not close it; I took off my slippers, lest they should make a sound, and followed the figure down stairs. As I have said before, the Darrells were never cowards; no dread came to me; I was intent upon one thing--the detection of the wrongdoer.

"Not more than a minute pa.s.sed while I was taking off my shoes, but when I came to the foot of the grand staircase light and figure had both disappeared. I cannot tell what impulse led me to the library--perhaps the remembrance of Sir Oswald's money being there came to me. I crossed the hall and opened the library door.

"Though I had never liked Captain Langton, the scene that was revealed to me came upon me as a shock--one that I shall never forget. There was Captain Langton with my uncle's cash-box before him, and the roll of bank-notes in his hand. He looked up when I entered, and a terrible curse fell from his lips--a frightful curse. His face was fearful to see. The room lay in the shadow of dense darkness, save where the light he carried shone like a faint star. The face it showed me was one I shall never forget; it was drawn, haggard, livid, with bloodless lips and wild, glaring eyes.

"He laid the bank-notes down, and, going to the door, closed it softly, turning the key; and then clutching my arm in a grasp of iron, he hissed rather than said:

"'What fiend has brought you here?'

"He did not frighten me, Vane; I have never known fear. But his eyes were full of murderous hate, and I had an idea that he would have few scruples as to taking my life.

"'So, Captain Aubrey Langton,' I said, slowly, 'you are a thief! You are robbing the old friend who has been so good to you!'

"He dragged me to the table on which the money lay, and then I saw a revolver lying there, too.

"'One word,' he hissed, 'one whisper above your breath, and you shall die!'

"I know my face expressed no fear--nothing but scorn and contempt--for his grew more livid as he watched me.

"'It is all your fault!' he hissed into my ear; 'it is your accursed pride that has driven me to this! Why did you not promise to marry me when my life lay in your hands?'

"I laughed--the idea of a Darrell married to this midnight thief!

"'I told you I was a desperate man,' he went on. 'I pleaded with you, I prayed to you, I laid my life at your feet, and you trampled on it with scorn. I told you of my debts, my difficulties, and you laughed at them.

If I could have gone back to London betrothed to you, every city usurer would have been willing to lend me money. I am driven to this, for I cannot go back to face ruin. You have driven me to it; you are the thief, though my hands take the money. Your thrice-accursed pride has ruined me!'

"'I shall go to Sir Oswald,' I said, 'and wake him. You shall not rob him!'

"'Yes,' he returned, 'I shall. I defy you, I dare you; you shall tell no one.'

"He took the revolver from the table and held it to my head; I felt the cold steel touch my forehead.

"'Now,' he said, 'your life is in your own hands; you must take an oath not to betray me, or I will fire.'

"'I am not afraid to die; I would rather die than hide such sin as yours. You cannot frighten me; I shall call for a.s.sistance.'

"'Wait a moment,' he said, still keeping that cold steel to my forehead, and still keeping his murderous eyes on my face; 'listen to what I shall do. The moment you cry out I shall fire, and you will fall down dead--I told you I was a desperate man. Before any one has time to come I shall place the bank-notes in your hand, and afterward I shall tell Sir Oswald that, hearing a noise in the library, and knowing money was kept there, I hastened down, and finding a thief, I fired, not knowing who it was--and you, being dead, cannot contradict me.'

"'You dare not be so wicked!' I cried.

"'I dare anything--I am a desperate man. I will do it, and the whole world will believe me; they will hold you a thief, but they will believe me honest.'

"And, Vane, I knew that what he said was true; I knew that if I chose death I should die in vain--that I should be branded as a thief, who had been shot in the very act of stealing.

"'I will give you two minutes,' he said, 'and then, unless you take an oath not to betray me, I will fire.'

"I was willing to lose my life, Vane," she continued, "but I could not bear that all the world should brand me as a thief--I could not bear that a Darrell should be reckoned among the lowest of criminals. I vow to you it was no coward fear for my life, no weak dread of death that forced the oath from my lips, but it was a shrinking from being found dead there with Sir Oswald's money in my hand--a shrinking from the thought that they would come to look upon my face and say to each other, 'Who would have thought, with all her pride, that she was a thief?' It was that word 'thief,' burning my brain, that conquered.

"'You have one minute more,' said the hissing whisper, 'and then, unless you take the oath----'

"'I will take it,' I replied; 'I do so, not to save my life, but my fair name.'

"'It is well for you,' he returned; and then he forced me to kneel, while he dictated to me the words of an oath so binding and so fast that I dared not break it.

"Shuddering, sick at heart, wis.h.i.+ng I had risked all and cried out for help, I repeated it, and then he laid the revolver down.

"'You will not break that oath,' he said. 'The Darrells invariably keep their word.'

"Then, coolly as though I had not been present, he put the bank-notes into his pocket, and turned to me with a sneer.

"'You will wonder how I managed this,' he said. 'I am a clever man, although you may not believe it. I drugged Sir Oswald's wine, and while he slept soundly I took the keys from under his pillow. I will put them back again. You seem so horrified that you had better accompany me and see that I do no harm to the old man.'

"He put away the box and extinguished the light. As we stood together in the dense gloom, I felt his breath hot upon my face.

"'There is no curse a man can invoke upon the woman who has ruined him,'

he said, 'that I do not give to you; but, remember, I do not glory in my crime--I am ashamed of it.'

"In the darkness I groped my way to the door, and opened it; in the darkness we pa.s.sed through the hall where the armor used by warriors of old hung, and in the darkness we went up the broad staircase. I stood at the door of Sir Oswald's room while Captain Langton replaced the keys, and then, without a word, I went to my own chamber.