Zula Part 35

"She left her answer with you."

"Go bring her to me, Guy."

When Guy returned accompanied by June, Scott drew her to his side, and, taking her in a close embrace, he said: "June, my little one, it is all right; but why did you leave your answer with me?"

"Because I thought you knew Guy's nature better than I did, and you would know best."

"If you love him, June, I am glad, for he is my choice of all the men I know. His faults are very few. Be kind to him, June, as I know you will, and, Guy, remember your great responsibility.

"Take her then, Guy, and treat her tenderly. I know you will, but if you should ever deceive her, Heaven help you, for if her life is ever wrecked as mine has been I should show you no mercy."

He pressed Guy's hand, kissed June tenderly, then turned and walked away.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE ELOPEMENT.

Max Brunswick had met Irene in New York, and they had decided to go west and join Rene's father.

She had told Max that she would introduce him to her father as Mr.

Wilmer. Since he had never seen him he would not know the difference.

"Of course," she said, "I would not do anything wrong, but you know I am obliged to use a little strategy for your sake, darling."

"Yes, dearest," he said, "you are wise in doing so."

"For you know," she said, "I shall be obliged to ask papa for a full allowance."

They were seated in their room at a fas.h.i.+onable hotel, Irene dressed in her most becoming attire, and looking her loveliest.

"My darling," he said, taking her in his arms, "how beautiful you look, and how happy we shall be together. I could never have lived without you, my love, my life."

She raised her beautiful eyes to his face, then dropping her head on his shoulder, said:

"Oh, Max, if anything should happen to separate us."

"Nothing will, nothing can come between such love as ours. Do not be frightened, dearest, nothing shall ever separate us but death. That man you called your husband never was your husband. He never knew how to appreciate the love of such a woman as you. Promise me, darling, that you will not think of him, but let us live in the light of our own love, and forget that he has ever caused you one heartache."

"Dear Max," she said, speaking softly, "how few men there are like you. If he had been like you I might have been happy."

"Never mind, darling, you will be happy in future, for I shall do all in my power to make a paradise for you in the land where we are going.

We'll have no books that are not tales of love, and in our own fairy little palace, amidst the perfumed lights we'll guess what star shall be our home when love becomes immortal."

"Oh, Max, he never spoke such lovely words as those to me."

"He did not care for you as I do, my own darling. He tired of you, and I never shall. His nature was too shallow to appreciate your true worth. But there, do not think of him; trust me, and we shall be happy."

"My papa owns a beautiful home in San Francisco, and a lovely cottage at San Bernardino. Of course, we will be allowed to take our choice."

"The cottage will be more suited to our taste, for you and I, darling, will live only for each other, and the cottage will be more secluded,"

said he.

"It shall be as you wish," she said.

When they reached San Bernardino, Irene sent word to her father, who was visiting a friend a few miles distant, so the landlord said. Max thought the greeting between father and daughter was rather a strange one, as he did not seem greatly delighted to see her, but Rene told Max "it was only papa's way."

"Why," said Mapleton, "didn't you let a fellow know you was coming, and not drop down like this?"

"I thought we would come and surprise you," she answered, smiling, "and, beside, Max thought it best not to put off coming."

"Max? I thought his name was Scott."

"Oh, well it is," Rene answered quickly, framing a falsehood, "but you see his name is Scott Maxwell, and I like the name Max best, so I call him that."

"You act more like a couple of young pigeons than you do like old married folks," Mr. Mapleton said, as he saw Max caress Irene.

"I love my wife as well as I did the day I married her," Max said, giving her another caress.

"Well, let's go down and have a game of billiards," said Mapleton.

"Thank you," said Max, "but I will leave that to my wife to say whether I go or not."

"Go, Max," she said, "but do not stay long."

"Oh, thunder," said Mapleton, "you do not keep yourself tied to your wife's ap.r.o.n string, do you?"

"I try to please my darling in every way," said Max, stooping down and kissing her.

Mapleton uttered an oath as he started out of the door, and Rene whispered to Max as he kissed her the second time that "he must not mind papa, as he had grown a little rough by coming in contact with mining people."

Rene spent the entire evening alone, as Max did not return until a late hour, and though she felt very lonely, it was all made right when Max told her that he stayed away through politeness to her father, and that he really did not enjoy himself one bit staying away from her.

"But," he added, "you know we must humor him a little."

"Papa," Irene said, the next day, "Max and I have decided to take the Venetian cottage, and stay there a year at least. You are gone so much that it is quite useless to try to make a home for you."

"That's all right. I can find homes enough. A man with plenty of money don't have to look for a home."

So it was settled that Rene should do as she pleased, Max giving as his reason for leaving New York that Rene was growing delicate, and she needed a change of air, to which Mapleton replied he couldn't see but that she looked as rosy as ever; but he supposed that Max, like every other love-sick husband, imagined a great deal, but he didn't care where she lived. She was to have a pretty good allowance, and she could do as she pleased with it.

The cottage was splendidly furnished, and there with her servants, Rene began the life she called perfectly happy. Max loved his ease, and for a time he was ready to accede to her every wish, and told Irene that he had no desire to leave her even for an hour. She was quite content to live with no society but his. But as the weeks wore on Max began to think that it was quite out of place for a man to tie himself down so closely, and he intimated that his health was becoming impaired by such close confinement, and his visits to the billiard hall, and places of like amus.e.m.e.nt became more and more frequent.

"Max, dear," Irene said, one evening, as he was preparing to go out, "I wish you would stay home to-night."

"I can't, dear. I have promised some friends that I would meet them for a prize game of billiards, and I can't stay. Some other night I will."