CHAPTER XX.
"I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered my littlesister," said Rex, extending his hand to the little veiled figurestanding in the shade of the orange-trees. "Allow me to thank you forit."
Poor Daisy! she dared not speak lest the tones of her voice shouldbetray her identity.
"I must for evermore be as one dead to him," she whispered to herwildly beating heart.
Rex wondered why the little, fluttering, cold fingers dropped soquickly from his clasp; he thought he heard a stifled sigh; theslight, delicate form looked strangely familiar, yet he could see itwas neither Eve, Gerty, nor Bess. She bowed her head with a fewlow-murmured words he scarcely caught, and the next instant the littlefigure was lost to sight in the darkness beyond.
"Who was that, Birdie?" he asked, scarcely knowing what prompted thequestion.
Alas for the memory of childhood! poor little Birdie had quiteforgotten.
"It is so stupid of me to forget, but when I see her again I shall askher and try and remember it then."
"It is of no consequence," said Rex, raising the little figure in hisarms and bearing her quickly up the graveled path to the house.
As he neared the house Rex observed there was great confusion amongthe servants; there was a low murmur of voices and lights moving toand fro.
"What is the matter, Parker?" cried Rex, anxiously, of the servant whocame out to meet him.
"Mrs. Lyon is very ill, sir," he answered, gravely; "it is aparalytic stroke the doctor says. We could not find you, so we wentfor Doctor Elton at once."
It seemed but a moment since he had parted from his mother in thegathering twilight, to search for Birdie. His mother very ill--dearHeaven! he could scarcely realize it.
"Oh, take me to mother, Rex!" cried Birdie, clinging to him piteously."Oh, it can not, it cannot be true; take me to her, Rex!"
The sound of hushed weeping fell upon his ears and seemed to bring tohim a sense of what was happening. Like one in a dream he hurriedalong the corridor toward his mother's boudoir. He heard his mother'svoice calling for him.
"Where is my son?" she moaned.
He opened the door quietly and went in. Her dark eyes opened feebly asRex entered, and she held out her arms to him.
"Oh, my son, my son!" she cried; "thank Heaven you are here!"
She clung to him, weeping bitterly. It was the first time he had everseen tears in his mother's eyes, and he was touched beyond words.
"It may not be as bad as you think, mother," he said; "there is alwayshope while there is life."
She raised her face to her son's, and he saw there was a curiouswhiteness upon it.
The large, magnificent room was quite in shadow; soft shadows filledthe corners; the white statuettes gleamed in the darkness; one blindwas half drawn, and through it came the soft, sweet moonlight. A largenight-lamp stood upon the table, but it was carefully shaded. Faintglimmers of light fell upon the bed, with its costly velvet hangings,and on the white, drawn face that lay on the pillows, with the grayshadow of death stealing softly over it--the faint, filmy look thatcomes only into eyes that death has begun to darken.
His mother had never been demonstrative; she had never cared for manycaresses; but now her son's love seemed her only comfort.
"Rex," she said, clinging close to him, "I feel that I am dying. Sendthem all away--my hours are numbered--a mist rises before my face,Rex. Oh, dear Heaven! I can not see you--I have lost my sight--my eyesgrow dim."
A cry came from Rex's lips.
"Mother, dear mother," he cried, "there is no pain in this world Iwould not undergo for your dear sake!" he cried, kissing thestiffening lips.
She laid her hands on the handsome head bent before her.
"Heaven bless you, my son," she murmured. "Oh, Rex, my hope and mytrust are in you!" she wailed. "Comfort me, calm me--I have sufferedso much. I have one last dying request to make of you, my son. Youwill grant my prayer, Rex? Surely Heaven would not let you refuse mylast request!"
Rex clasped her in his arms. This was his lady-mother, whose proud,calm, serene manner had always been perfect--whose fair, proud facehad never been stained with tears--whose lips had never been partedwith sighs or worn with entreaties.
It was so new to him, so terrible in its novelty, he could hardlyunderstand it. He threw his arms around her, and clasped her closelyto his breast.
"My dearest mother," he cried, "you know I would die for you if dyingwould benefit you. Why do you doubt my willingness to obey yourwishes, whatever they may be? Whatever I can do to comfort you I willsurely do it, mother."
"Heaven bless you, Rex!" she cried, feebly caressing his face and hisbands. "You make death a thousand-fold more easy to bear, my darling,only son!"
"My dear sir," said the doctor, bending over him gently, "I mustremind you your mother's life hangs on a thread. The least excitement,the least agitation, and she will be dead before you can call forhelp. No matter what she may say to you, listen and accede."
Rex bent down and kissed the pale, agitated face on the pillow.
"I will be careful of my dearest mother. Surely you may trust me," hesaid.
"I do," replied the doctor, gravely. "Your mother's life, for thepresent, lies in your hands."
"Is it true, Rex, that I must die?" she gasped. The look of anguish onhis face answered her. "Rex," she whispered, clinging like a child tohis strong white hands, "my hope and trust are in you, my only son. Iam going to put your love to the test, my boy. I beseech you to say'Yes' to the last request I shall ever make of you. Heaven knows, Rex,I would not mention it now, but I am dying--yes, dying, Rex."
"You need not doubt it, mother," he replied, earnestly, "I can notrefuse anything you may ask! Why should I?"
But, as he spoke, he had not the faintest idea of what he would beasked to do. As he spoke his eyes caught the gleam of the moonlightthrough the window, and his thoughts traveled for one moment to thebeloved face he had seen in the moonlight--how fair and innocent theface was as they parted on the night they were wed! The picture ofthat lonely young girl-wife, going home by herself, brought tears tohis eyes.
"Was there ever a fate so cruel?" he said to himself. "Who ever lost awife on his wedding-day?"
Surely there had never been a love-dream so sweet, so passionate, orso bright as his. Surely there had never been one so rudely broken.
Poor little Daisy--his wife--lying cold and still in death. Even hismother was to be taken from him.
The feeble pressure of his mother's hands recalled his wanderingthoughts.
"Listen, Rex," she whispered, faintly, "my moments are precious."
He felt his mother's arms clasp closely round his neck.
"Go on, mother," he said, gently.
"Rex, my son," she whispered, gaspingly, "I could not die and leavethe words unspoken. I want my race to live long generations after me.Your poor little lame sister will go unmarried to the grave; and nowall rests with you, my only son. You understand me, Rex; you know thelast request I have to ask."
For the first time a cry came to Rex's lips; her words pierced like asword in his heart.
"Surely, mother, you do not mean--you do not think I could ever--"
The very horror of the thought seemed to completely unman him.
"You will marry again," she interrupted, finishing the sentence hecould not utter. "Remember, she whom you loved is dead. I would nothave asked this for long years to come, but I am dying--I must speaknow."
"My God, mother!" he cried out in agony, "ask anything but that. Myheart is torn and bleeding; have pity on me, have pity!"
Great drops of agony started on his brow; his whole frame shook withagitation.
He tried to collect himself, to gather his scattered thoughts, torealize the full import of the words she had spoken.
Marry again! Heaven pity him! How could he harbor such a thought for asingle instant, when he thought of the pale, cold face of littleDaisy--his fair young bride--whom he so madly
loved, lying pale andstill in death, like a broken lily, down in the dark, bottomless pitwhich never yielded up its terrible secrets!
"Rex," wailed his mother, feebly, gazing into his eyes with a suspenseheart-breaking to witness, "don't refuse me this the first prayer Ihad ever made. If you mean to refuse it would be kinder far to plungea dagger into my heart and let me die at once. You can not refuse."One trembling hand she laid on his breast, and with the other caressedhis face. "You are good and gentle of heart, Rex; the prayers of yourdying mother will touch you. Answer me, my son; tell me my proud oldrace shall not die with you, and I will rest calmly in my grave."
The cold night-wind fanned his pallid brow, and the blood coursedthrough his veins like molten lead. He saw the tears coursing down herpale, withered cheeks. Ah, God! was it brave to speak the words whichmust bring despair and death to her? Was it filial to send his motherto her grave with sorrow and sadness in her heart? Could he thrustaside his mother's loving arms and resist her dying prayer? Heavendirect him, he was so sorely tried.
"Comfort me, Rex," she whispered, "think of how I have loved you sinceyou were a little child, how I used to kiss your rosy little face anddream what your future would be like. It comes back to me now while Iplead to you with my fast-fleeting breath. Oh, answer me, Rex."
All the love and tenderness of the young man's impulsive heart wasstirred by the words. Never was a man so fearfully tried. Rex'shandsome face had grown white with emotion; deep shadows came into hiseyes. Ah, what could it matter now? His hopes were dead, his heartcrushed, yet how could he consent?
"Oh, Heaven, Rex!" she cried, "what does that look on your face mean?What is it?"
The look of terror on her face seemed to force the mad words from hislips, the magnetic gaze seemed to hold him spellbound. He bent overhie mother and laid his fresh, brave young face on the cold, whiteface of his dying mother.
"Promise me, Rex," she whispered.
"I promise, mother!" he cried. "God help me; if it will make your lastmoments happier, I consent."
"Heaven bless you, my noble son!" whispered the quivering voice. "Youhave taken the bitter sting from death, and filled my heart withgratitude. Some day you will thank me for it, Rex."
They were uttered! Oh, fatal words! Poor Rex, wedded and parted, hislove-dream broken, how little he knew of the bitter grief which was toaccrue from that promise wrung from his white lips.
Like one in a dream he heard her murmur the name of Pluma Hurlhurst.The power of speech seemed denied him; he knew what she meant. Hebowed his head on her cold hands.
"I have no heart to give her," he said, brokenly. "My heart is withDaisy, my sweet little lost love."
Poor Rex! how little he knew Daisy was at that self-same momentwatching with beating heart the faint light of his window through thebranches of the trees--Daisy, whom he mourned as dead, alas! dead tohim forever, shut out from his life by the rash words of that fatallycruel promise.