XII.
HOW MUCH DID IT MEAN?
Frank Etheridge left the presence of Hermione Cavanagh, carrying withhim an indelible impression of her slender, white-robed figure andpallid, passion-drawn face. There was such tragedy in the latter, thathe shuddered at its memory, and stopped before he reached the gate toask himself if the feeling she displayed was for him or another. If foranother, then was that other Dr. Sellick, and as the name formed itselfin his thoughts, he felt the dark cloud of jealousy creep over his mind,obscuring the past and making dangerous the future.
"How can I know," thought he, "how can I know?" and just as the secondrepetition passed his lips, he heard a soft step near him, and, lookingup, saw the gentle Emma watering her flowers.
To gain her side was his first impulse. To obtain her confidence thesecond. Taking the heavy watering-pot from her hand, he poured itscontents on the rose-bush she was tending, and then setting it down,said quietly:
"I have just made your sister very unhappy, Miss Cavanagh."
She started and her soft eyes showed the shadow of an alarm.
"I thought you were her friend," she said.
He drew her around the corner of the house towards the poplar trees."Had I been only that," he avowed, "I might have spared her pain, but Iam more than that, Miss Cavanagh, I am her lover."
The hesitating step at his side paused, and though no great change cameinto her face, she seemed to have received a shock.
"I can understand," said she, "that you hurt her."
"Is she so wedded to the past, then?" he cried. "Was there some one, isthere some one whom she--she----"
He could not finish, but the candid-eyed girl beside him did not professto misunderstand him. A pitiful smile crossed her lips, and she lookedfor a minute whiter than her sister had done, but she answered firmly:
"You could easily overcome any mere memory, but the decision she hasmade never to leave the house, I fear you cannot overcome."
"Does it spring--forgive me if I go beyond the bounds of discretion, butthis mystery is driving me mad--does it spring from that past attachmentyou have almost acknowledged?"
She drooped her head and his heart misgave him. Why should he hurt boththese women when his whole feeling towards them was one of kindness andlove?
"Pardon me," he pleaded. "I withdraw the question; I had no right to putit."
"Thank you," said she, and looked away from him towards the distantprospect of hill and valley lying before them.
He stood revolving the matter in his disturbed mind.
"I should have been glad to have been the means of happiness to yoursister and yourself. Such seclusion as you have imposed upon yourselvesseems unnecessary, but if it must be, and this garden wall is destinedto be the boundary of your world, it would have been a great pleasure tome to have brought into it some freshness from the life which liesbeyond it. But it is destined not to be."
The sad expression in her face changed into one of wistfulness.
"Then you are not coming any more?" said she.
He caught his breath. There was disappointment in her tones and thiscould mean nothing but regret, and regret meant the loss of somethingwhich might have been hope. She felt, then, that he might have won hersister if he had been more patient.
"Do you think it will do for me to come here after your sister has toldme that it was useless for me to aspire to her hand?"
She gave him for the first time a glance that had the element ofmirthfulness in it.
"Come as my friend," she suggested; then in a more serious mood added:"It is her only chance of happiness, but I do not know that I would bedoing right in influencing you to pursue a suit which may not be foryours. _You_ know, or will know after reflection (and I advise you toreflect well), whether an alliance with women situated as we are wouldbe conducive to your welfare. If you decide yes, think that a womantaken by surprise, as my sister undoubtedly was, may not in the firsthurried moment of decision know her own mind, but also remember that nowoman who has taken such a decision as she has, is cast in the commonmould, and that you may but add to your regrets by a persistency she maynever fully reward."
Astonished at her manner and still more astonished at the intimationconveyed in her last words, he looked at her as one who would say:
"But you also share her fate and the resolve that made it."
She seemed to understand him.
"Free Hermione," she whispered, "from the shackles she has wound aboutherself and you will free me."
"Miss Emma," he began, but she put her finger on her lips.
"Hush!" she entreated; "let us not talk any more about it. I havealready said what I never meant should pass my lips; but the affection Ibear my sister made me forget myself; she does so need to love and beloved."
"And you think I----"
"Ah, sir, you must be the judge of your own chances. You have heard herrefusal and must best know just how much it means."
"How much it means!" Long did Frank muse over that phrase, after he hadleft the sweet girl who had uttered it. As he sat with Edgar at supper,his abstracted countenance showed that he was still revolving thequestion, though he endeavored to seem at home with his friend andinterested in the last serious case which had occupied the attention ofthe newly settled doctor. How much it means! Not much, he was beginningto say to himself, and insensibly his face began to brighten and hismanner to grow less restrained, when Edgar, who had been watching himfurtively, broke out:
"Now you are more like yourself. Business responsibilities are as hardto shake off as a critical case in medicine."
"Yes," was the muttered reply, as Frank rose from the table, and tookthe cigar his friend offered him. "And business with me just now isparticularly perplexing. I cannot get any clue to Harriet Smith or herheirs, nor can the police or the presumably sharp detective I have putupon the search."
"That must please Huckins."
"Yes, confound him! such a villain as he is! I sometimes wonder if hekilled his sister."
"That you can certainly find out."
"No, for she had a mortal complaint, and that satisfies the physicians.But there are ways of hastening a death, and those I dare avow he wouldnot be above using. The greed in his eyes would do anything; it evensuffices to make him my very good friend, now that he sees that he mightlose everything by opposing me."
"I am glad you see through his friendship."
"See through a sieve?"
"He plays his part badly, then?"
"He cannot help it, with that face of his; and then he gave himself awayin the beginning. No attitude he could take now would make me forget thesneak I saw in him then."
This topic was interesting, but Edgar knew it was no matter of businesswhich had caused the fitful changes he had been observing in Frank'stell-tale countenance. Yet he did not broach any other theme, and it wasFrank who finally remarked:
"I suppose you think me a fool to fix my heart on a woman with asecret."
"Fool is a strong word," answered Edgar, somewhat bitterly, "but thatyou were unfortunate to have been attracted by Hermione Cavanagh, Ithink any man would acknowledge. You would acknowledge it yourself, ifyou stopped to weigh the consequences of indulging a passion for a womanso eccentric."
"Perhaps I should, if my interest would allow me to stop. But it won't,Edgar; it has got too strong a hold upon me; everything else sinks inimportance before it. I love her, and am willing to sacrifice somethingfor her sake."
"Something, perhaps; but in this case it would be everything."
"I do not think so."
"You do not think so now; but you would soon."
"Perhaps I should, but it is hard to realize it. Besides, she would dropher eccentricities if her affections once became engaged."
"Oh, if you have assurance of that."
"Do I need assurance? Doesn't it stand to reason? A woman loved is sodifferent from a woman----" scorned, he was going to say, but,remembering himself, added softly, "from a woman w
ho has no one to thinkof but herself."
"This woman has a sister," observed Edgar.
Frank faltered. "Yes, and that sister is involved in her fate," thoughthe, but he said, quietly: "Emma Cavanagh does not complain of Hermione;on the contrary, she expresses the greatest affection for her."
"They are both mysteries," exclaimed Edgar, and dropped the subject,though it was not half talked out.
Frank was quite willing to accept his silence, for he was out of sortswith his friend and with himself. He knew his passion was a mad one, andyet he felt that it had made giant strides that day, and had really beenaugmented instead of diminished by the refusal he had received fromHermione, and the encouragement to persistence which he had receivedfrom her usually shy sister. As the evening wore on and the nightapproached, his thoughts not only grew in intensity, but deepened intotenderness. It was undoubtedly a passion that had smitten him, but thatpassion was hallowed by the unselfish feelings of a profound affection.He did not want her to engage herself to him if it would not be for herhappiness. That it would be, every throb of his heart assured him, buthe might be mistaken, and if so, better her dreams of the past than afuture he could not make bright. He was so moved at the turmoil whichhis thoughts made in his usually quiet breast, that he could not thinkof sleep, but sat in his room for hours indulging in dreams which hispractical nature would have greatly scorned a few short weeks before. Hesaw her again in fancy in every attitude in which his eyes had everbeheld her, and sanctified thus by distance, her beauty seemed bothwonderful and touching. And that was not all. Some chord between themseemed to have been struck, and he felt himself drawn towards her as if(it was a strange fancy) she stood by that garden gate, and was lookingin his direction with rapt, appealing eyes. So strong became that fancyat last, that he actually rose to his feet and went to the window whichopened towards the south.
"Hermione! Hermione!" broke in longing from his lips, and then annoyedat what he could not but consider a display of weakness on his part, hewithdrew himself from the window, determined to forget for the momentthat there lived for him such a cause for love and sorrow. But what mancan forget by a mere effort of will, or what lover shut his eyes to thehaunting vision which projects itself upon the inner consciousness. Infancy he saw her still, and this time she seemed to be pacing up anddown the poplar walk, wringing her hands and wildly calling his name. Itwas more than he could bear. He must know if this was only anhallucination, and in a feverish impulse he rushed from his room withthe intention of going to her at once.
But he no sooner stood in the hall than he realized he was not alone inthe house, and that he should have to pass Edgar's door. He naturallyfelt some hesitation at this and was inclined to give up his purpose.But the fever urging him on said no; so stealing warily down the hall hestepped softly by the threshold of his friend's room, when to hissurprise he perceived that the door was ajar.
Pushing it gently open he found the room brilliant with moonlight butempty. Greatly relieved and considering that the doctor had been sentfor by some suffering patient, he passed at once out of the house.
He went directly to that of Hermione, walking where the shadows werethickest as if he were afraid of being recognized. But no one was in thestreets, and when he reached the point where the tall poplar-trees madea wall against the moonbeams, he slid into the deep obscurity he foundthere with a feeling of relief such as the heart experiences when it issuddenly released from some great strain.
Was she in the poplar walk? He did not mean to accost her if she were,nor to show himself or pass beyond the boundary of the wall, but he mustknow if her restless spirit drove her to pace these moonlit walks, andif it were true or not that she was murmuring his name.
The gate which opened in the wall at the side of the house was in adirect line with the window he had long ago fixed upon as hers. Heaccordingly took up his station at that spot and as he did so he wassure that he saw the flitting of some dark form amid the alternate bandsof moonlight and shadow that lay across the weird pathway before him.Holding his breath he listened. Oh, the stillness of the night! Howawesome and yet how sweet it was! But is there no break in the universalsilence? Above his head the ever restless leaves make a low murmuring,and far away in the dim distances rises a faint sound that he cannotmistake; it is the light footfall of a dainty woman.
He can see her now. She is coming towards him, her shadow gliding beforeher. Seeing it he quails. From the rush of emotion seizing him, he knowsthat he should not be upon this spot, and panting with the effort, heturns and flees just as the sudden sound of a lifted window comes fromthe house.
That arrests him. Pausing, he looks up. It is her window that is open,and in the dark square thus made he sees her face bright with themoonlight streaming over it. Instantly he recovers himself. It is Emma'sstep, not Hermione's, he hears upon the walk. Hermione is above and inan anxious mood, for she is looking eagerly out and calling her sisterby name.
"I am coming," answers back the clear, low voice of Emma from below.
"It is late," cries Hermione, "and very cold. Come in, Emma."
"I am coming," repeated the young girl. And in another moment he heardher step draw nearer, saw her flitting figure halt for a moment on thedoor-step before him and then disappear just as the window closed above.He had not been observed.
Relieved, he drew a long breath and leaned his head against the gardenwall. Ah, how fair had been the vision of his beloved one's face in themoonlight. It filled him with indescribable thoughts; it made his spiritreel and his heart burn; it made him ten times her lover. Yet because hewas her lover he felt that he ought not to linger there any longer; thatthe place was hallowed even from his presence, and that he should returnat once to the doctor's house. But when he lifted his head he heardsteps, this time not within the wall but on the roadside behind him, andalert at once to the mischievous surmises which might be aroused by thediscovery of his presence there, he remained perfectly still in the hopethat his form would be so lost in the deep shadows where he hadwithdrawn himself, that he would not be seen.
But the person, whoever it was, had evidently already detected him, forthe footsteps turned the corner and advanced rapidly to where he stood.Should he step forward and meet the intruder, or remain still and awaitthe words of surprise he had every reason to expect? He decided toremain where he was, and in another moment realized his wisdom in doingso, for the footsteps passed on and did not halt till they had reachedthe gate. But they paused there and at once he felt himself seized by asudden jealousy and took a step forward, eager to see what this manwould do.
He did not do much; he cast a look up at the house, and a heavy sighbroke from his lips; then he leaned forward and plucked a rose that grewinside the wall and kissed it there in the moonlight, and put it insidehis breast-pocket; then he turned again towards the highway, and startedback in surprise to see Frank Etheridge standing before him.
"Edgar!" cried the one.
"Frank!" exclaimed the other.
"You have misled me," accused Frank; "you do love her, or you would notbe here."
"Love whom?" asked Edgar, bitterly.
"Hermione."
"Does Hermione tend the flowers?"
"Ah!" ejaculated Frank, understanding his friend for the first time;"it is Emma you are attached to. I see! I see! Forgive me, Edgar;passion is so blind to everything but its own object. Of course it isEmma; why shouldn't it be!"
Yet for all its assurance his voice had strange tones in it, and Edgar,already annoyed at his own self-betrayal, looked at him suspiciously asthey drew away together towards the main street.
"I am glad to find this out," said Frank, with a hilarity slightlyforced, or so thought his friend, who could not know what thoughts andhopes this discovery had awakened in the other's breast. "You have keptyour secret well, but now that I know it you cannot refuse to make meyour confidant, when there is so much to tell involving my happiness aswell as your own."
"I have no happiness, Frank." r />
"Nor I; but I mean to have."
"Mean to marry Miss Cavanagh?"
"Of course, if I can induce her to marry me."
"I do not mean to marry Emma."
"You do not? Because she has a secret? because she is involved in amystery?"
"Partly; that would be enough, Frank; but I have another good reason.Miss Emma Cavanagh does not care for me."
"You know that? You have asked her?"
"A year ago; this is no sudden passion with me; I have loved her all mylife."
"Edgar! And you mean to give her up?"
"Give her up?"
"If I were you, nothing would induce me to resign my hopes, not even herown coldness. I _would_ win her. Have you tried again since yourreturn?"
"Frank, she is a recluse now; I could not marry a recluse; my wife mustplay her part in the world, and be my helpmate abroad as well as athome."
"Yes, yes; but as I said in my own case, win her love and that will allright itself. No woman's resolve will hold out against a true passion."
"But you forget, she has no true passion for me."
Frank did not answer; he was musing over the subject. He had had anopportunity for seeing into the hearts of these girls which had beendenied to Edgar. Had he seen love there? Yes, but in Hermione's breast,not Emma's. And yet Emma was deeply sad, and it was Emma whom he hadjust seen walking her restlessness off under the trees at midnight.
"Edgar," he suddenly exclaimed, "you may not understand this girl. Theirwhole existence is a mystery, and so may their hearts be. Won't you tellme how it was she refused you? It may serve to throw some light upon thefacts."
"What light? She refused me as all coquettish women refuse the men whomthey have led to believe in their affection."
"Ah! you once believed, then, in her affection."
"Should I have offered myself if I had not?"
"I don't know; I only know I didn't wait for any such belief on the partof Hermione."
"You are impulsive, Frank, I am not; I weigh well what I do, fortunatelyfor myself."
"Yet you did not prosper in this affair."
"No, because I did not take a woman's waywardness into consideration. Ithought I had a right to count upon her regard, and I found myselfmistaken."
"Explain yourself," entreated Frank.
"Will not to-morrow do? Here we are at home, and it must be one o'clockat least."
"I should sleep better if I knew it all now," Frank intimated.
"Well, then, come to my room; but there is nothing in the story tospecially interest you. I loved her----"
"Edgar, you must be explicit. I am half lawyer in listening to thistale; I want to understand these girls."
"Girls? It is of Emma only that I have to speak."
"I know, but tell the story with some details; tell me where you firstmet her."
"Oh, if I must," sighed Edgar, who hated all talk about himself, "let'sbe comfortable." And throwing himself into a chair, he pointed outanother to Frank.
"This is more like it," acknowledged the latter.
Edgar lit a cigar; perhaps he felt that he could hide all emotion behindits fumes. Frank did not take one.
"I have known Emma Cavanagh ever since we were children," began Edgar."As a school-boy I thought her the merriest-eyed witch in town.---- Isshe merry now?"
Frank shook his head.
"Well, I suppose she has grown older, but then she was as full oflaughter and fun as any blue-eyed Mischief could well be, and I, whohave a cynical turn of mind, liked the brightness of hers as I shallnever like her sadness--if she is sad. But that was in my adolescence,and being as shy as I was inclined to be cynical, I never showed her mypreference, or even joined the mirthful company of which she was thehead. I preferred to stand back and hear her laughter, or talk toHermione while watching her sister."
"Ah!" thought Frank.
"When I went to college she went to school, and when I graduated as adoctor she was about graduating also. But she did not come home at thattime for more than a fleeting visit. Friends wished her company on atrip abroad, and she went away from Marston just as I settled here formy first year of practice. I was disappointed at this, but I made whatamends to myself I could by cultivating the acquaintance of her father,and making myself necessary to him by my interest in his studies. Ispent much of my spare time at the house, and though I never asked afterEmma, I used to get continual news of her from her sister."
"Ah!" again ejaculated Frank to himself.
"At last she returned, and--I do not know how she looks now, but shewas pretty then, wonderfully pretty, and more animated in her mannerthan any other woman I have ever seen. I saw her first at a picnic, andthough I lacked courage to betray the full force of my feeling, Iimagined she understood me, for her smiles became dazzling, and shejoked with everybody but me. At last I had her for a few minutes tomyself, and then the pent up passion of months had its way, and I askedher to be my wife. Frank, you may find it easy to talk about thesethings, but I do not. I can only say she seemed to listen to me withmodest delight, and when I asked her for her answer she gave me a look Ishall never forget, and would have spoken but that her father called herjust then, and we were obliged to separate. I saw her for just anothermoment that day, but there were others about, and I could only whisper,'If you love me, come to the ball next week'; to which she gave me noother reply than an arch look and a smile which, as I have said before,appeared to promise me all I could desire. Appeared, but did not; forwhen I called at the house the next day I was told that Mr. Cavanagh wasengaged in an experiment that could not be interrupted, and when I askedto see the ladies received word that they were very busy preparing forthe ball and could see no one. Relieved at this, for the ball was nearat hand, I went home, and being anxious to do the honorable thing, Iwrote to Mr. Cavanagh, and, telling him that I loved his daughter,formally asked for the honor of her hand. This note I sent by amessenger.
"I did not receive an immediate reply (why do you want all theseparticulars, Frank?); but I did not worry, for her look was still warmin my memory. But when two days passed and no message arrived I becameuneasy, and had it not been for the well-known indifference of Mr.Cavanagh to all affairs of life outside of his laboratory, I should havegiven up in despair. But as it was, I kept my courage up till the nightof the ball, when it suddenly fell, never to rise again. For will youbelieve it, Frank, she was not there, nor any of her family, though allhad engaged to go, and had made many preparations for the affair, as Iknew."
"And did no letter come? Did you never see Miss Cavanagh again, or anyof her family?"
"I received a note, but it was very short, though it was in Emma'shandwriting. She had not been well, was her excuse, and so could not bepresent at the ball. As for the offer I had been kind enough to makeher, it was far above her deserts, and so must be gratefully declined.Then came a burst of something like contrition, and the prayer that Iwould not seek to make her alter her mind, as her decision wasirrevocable. Added to this was one line from her father, to the effectthat interesting as our studies were, he felt compelled to tell me heshould have no further time to give to them at present, and so bade me akindly adieu. Was there ever a more complete dismissal? I felt as if Ihad been thrust out of the house."
Frank, who was nothing if not sympathetic, nodded quickly, but did notbreak into those open expressions of indignation which his friend hadevidently anticipated. The truth was, he was too busy considering theaffair, and asking himself what part Hermione had taken in it, andwhether all its incongruities were not in some way due to her. He was soanxious to assure himself that this was not so, that he finally asked:
"And was that the end? Did you never see any of them again?"
"I did not wish to," was the answer. "I had already thought of trying myfortunes in the West, and when this letter came, it determined me. Inthree weeks I had left Marston as I thought forever, but I was notsuccessful in the West."
"And you will be here," observed Frank. r />
"I think so," said Edgar, and became suddenly silent.
Frank looked at him a long time and then said quietly:
"I am glad you love her still."
Edgar, flushing, opened his lips, but the other would not listen to anydenial.
"If you had not loved her, you would not have come back to Marston, andif you did not love her still, you would not pluck roses from her wallat midnight."
"I was returning from a patient," objected Edgar, shortly.
"I know, but you _stopped_. You need not blush to own it, for, as I say,I think it a good thing that you have not forgotten Miss Cavanagh." Andnot being willing to explain himself further, Frank rose and saunteredtowards the door. "We have talked well into the night," he remarked;"supposing we let up now, and continue our conversation to-morrow."
"I am willing to let up," acquiesced Edgar, "but why continue to-morrow?Nothing can be gained by fruitless conjectures on this subject, whilemuch peace of mind may be lost by them."
"Well, perhaps you are right," quoth Frank.