CHAPTER XVI.
Thou shall not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest.
--SHAKESPEARE'S "HENRY VI.," PART II.
It was a sultry summer night. In the grounds of one of the largest andmost beautiful of the many elegant country seats to be found in thesuburbs of Cincinnati two gentlemen were pacing leisurely to and fro.
They were friends who had met that day for the first time in severalyears; strongly attached friends, spite of a very considerabledifference in their ages. They had had much to say to each other forthe first few hours, but it was now several minutes since either hadspoken.
The silence was broken by the younger of the two exclaiming in a toneof hearty congratulation, "This is a magnificent place, Beresford! Itdoes my heart good to see you so prosperous!"
"It is a fine place, Travilla, but," and he heaved a deep sigh, "Isometimes fear my wealth is to prove anything but a blessing to mychildren; that in fact my success in acquiring it is to be the ruin ofmy first-born."
"Ah, I hope not! Is Rudolph not doing well?"
"Well?" groaned the father, dropping his head upon his breast, "heseems to be rushing headlong to destruction. Have you not noticed hispoor mother's sad and careworn look? or mine? That boy is breakingour hearts. I could not speak of it to every one, but to you, mylong-tried friend, I feel that I may unburden myself, sure of genuinesympathy--" And he went on to tell how his son, becoming early imbuedwith the idea that his father's wealth precluded all necessity ofexertion on his part, had grown up in habits of idleness that led todissipation, and going on from bad to worse, was now a drunkard, agambler, and frequenter of low haunts of vice.
"Day and night he is a heavy burden upon our hearts," continued theunhappy father; "when he is with us we find it most distressing tobehold the utter wreck his excesses are making of him, and when heis out of our sight it is still worse; for we don't know what sinor danger he may be running into. Indeed at times we are almostdistracted. Ah, Travilla, much as I love my wife and children, Iam half tempted to envy your bachelor exemption from such care andsorrow!"
Mr. Travilla's kind heart was deeply moved. He felt painfullyconscious of his own inability to comfort in such sorrow; but spokeof God's power to change the heart of the most hardened sinner, hiswillingness to save, and his promises to those who seek his aid in thetime of trouble.
"Thank you. I knew you would feel for us; your sympathy does me good,"returned Mr. Beresford, grasping his friend's hand and pressing itbetween his own; "your words too; for however well we know thesetruths we are apt to forget them, even when they are most needed.
"But it is growing late, and you must be weary after your journey. Letme show you to your room."
Three days passed in which Rudolph was not once seen in his home, andhis parents were left in ignorance of his whereabouts. They exertedthemselves for the pleasure and entertainment of their guest, buthe could see plainly that they were enduring torture of anxiety andsuspense.
Late in the evening of the third day, Mr. Beresford said to him, "Mycarriage is at the door. I must go into town and search for my boy. Ihave done so vainly several times since he last left his home, but Imust try again to-night. Will you go with me?"
Travilla consented with alacrity, and they set out at once.
While on their way to the city Mr. Beresford explained that, for sometime past, he had had reason to fear that his son was frequenting oneof its gambling-hells; that thus far he had failed in his efforts togain admittance, in order to search for him; but to-day, a professedgambler, well known in the house; had come to him and offered hisassistance.
"As his convoy, I think we shall get in," added Mr. Beresford. "Icannot fathom the man's motives, but suspect he owes a grudge to anewcomer, who, he says, is winning large sums from Rudolph. I shalldrive to Smith's livery stable, leave my horse and carriage there,then walk on to the place, which is only a few squares distant. Ourguide is to meet us at the first corner from Smith's."
This programme was carried out, their guide was in waiting at theappointed place, and at once conducted them to the gambling-house Mr.Beresford had spoken of. They were admitted without question or demur,and in another moment found themselves standing beside a table where anumber of men were at play, nearly all so absorbed in their game as toseem entirely unconscious of the presence of spectators.
Two of them, pitted against each other, and both young, though theremust have been several years' difference in their ages, particularlyattracted Travilla's attention; and glancing at his friend, he sawthat it was the same with him,--that his eyes were fixed upon the faceof the younger of the two, with an expression of keen distress, whilehe trembled with emotion, and almost gasped for breath, as he leanedtoward him, and whispered, "It is he--my son."
At the same instant the young man's face grew deadly pale, he startedup with a wild, ringing cry, "I am ruined!" drew a pistol from hisbreast, and placed the muzzle to his mouth.
But Mr. Travilla, springing forward, struck it from his hand ere hecould pull the trigger.
A scene of much excitement and confusion followed, in the midst ofwhich young Beresford was led away by his father and Travilla.
A week later the latter gentleman reached Lansdale, arriving there inthe early morning train. He put up at its principal hotel, and havingrefreshed himself by a few hours' sleep, a bath, and breakfast,inquired the way to Miss Stanhope's.
Elsie was just coming down the front stairway, as he appeared beforethe open door, and was about to ring for admittance.
"Oh, Mr. Travilla, my dear old friend! who would have expected to seeyou here?" she cried, in delighted surprise, as she bounded forward tomeet him, with both hands extended in joyous greeting.
He took them in his, and kissed her first on one cheek, then on theother. "Still fresh and blooming as a rose, and with the same happylight in the sweet brown eyes," he said, gazing fondly into theirtender depths.
"And you are the same old flatterer," she answered gayly, a rich colormantling her cheek. "Come in and sit down. But oh, tell me when didyou see papa last? and mamma, and little Horace? Ah! the sight of youmakes me homesick for them."
"I left them at Cape May, about a fortnight since, all well and happy,but missing you very much. I think papa will hardly be able to dowithout his darling much longer."
"Nor his darling without him. Oh, dear! sometimes I get to wanting himso badly that I feel as if I should have to write to him to come forme at once. But excuse me while I go and call Aunt Wealthy."
"Not yet; let us have a little chat together first."
Of course, after so long a separation, such old and tried friendswould find a great deal to say to each other. The time slipped awayvery fast, and half an hour afterward Mr. Egerton, coming in withoutringing--a liberty he sometimes took of late--found them seated closetogether on the sofa, talking earnestly, Elsie with her hand in thatof her friend, and a face even brighter and happier than its wont.
Mr. Travilla had one of those faces that often seem to come to astand-still as regards age, and to scarcely know any change for manyyears. He was at this time thirty-four, but would have passed readilyfor twenty-five. Egerton thought him no more than that, and at oncetook him for a successful rival.
"Excuse me, Miss Dinsmore," he said, bowing stiffly, "I should havewaited to ring, but--"
"Oh, never mind, Mr. Egerton," she said; "let me introduce you to myold friend, Mr. Travilla--"
But she stopped in astonishment and dismay. Mr. Travilla had risen,and the two stood confronting each other like mortal foes.
Mr. Travilla was the first to speak. "I have met you before, sir!" hesaid with stern indignation.
"Indeed! that must be a mistake, sir, for upon my word and honor Inever set eyes on you before."
"Your honor! the honor of a sharper, a black-leg, a ----"
"Sir, do you mean to insult me? by what right do you apply suchepithets to me? Pray where did you ever meet me?"
"In a gambling-
hell in Cincinnati; the time, one week ago to-night;the occasion, the playing of a game of cards between young Beresfordand yourself in which you were the winner--by what knavery you bestknow--the stakes so heavy that, on perceiving that he had lost,the young man cried out that he was ruined, and in his mad despairattempted self-destruction. It is quite possible that you may not haveobserved me in the crowd that gathered about your wretched victim; butI can never forget the face of the man who had wrought his ruin."
Egerton's countenance expressed the utmost astonishment andincredulity. "I have not been in Cincinnati for two months," heaverred, "and all I know of that affair I have learned from thedaily papers. But I shall not stay here to be insulted by you,sir. Good-afternoon, Miss Dinsmore. I hope to be allowed an earlyopportunity to explain this, and to be able to do so to your entiresatisfaction."
He bowed and withdrew, hastening from the house with the rapid step ofone who is filled with a just indignation.
Mr. Travilla turned to Elsie. She was sitting there on the sofa, withher hands clasped in her lap, and a look of terror and anguish on herface, from which every trace of color had fled.
His own grew almost as pale, and his voice shook, as again sittingdown beside her, and laying his hand on hers, he said, "My poor child!can it be possible that you care for that wretch?"
"Oh, don't!" she whispered hoarsely and turning away her face; "Icannot believe it; there must be some dreadful mistake."
Then, recovering her composure by a mighty effort, she rose andintroduced her aunt, who entered the room at that moment.
Mr. Travilla sat for some time conversing with her, Elsie joining inoccasionally, but with a tone and manner from which all the brightnessand vivacity had fled; then he went away, declining a pressinginvitation to stay to dinner, but promising to be there to tea.
The moment he was gone Miss Stanhope was busied in beating up hercushions, and Elsie flew to her room, where she walked back and forthin a state of great agitation. But the dinner-bell rang, and composingherself as well as she could, she went down. Her cheeks were burning,and she seemed unnaturally gay, but ate very little as her auntnoticed with concern.
The meal was scarcely over, when a ring at the door-bell was followedby the sound of Mr. Egerton's voice asking for Miss Dinsmore.
"Ah!" said Miss Stanhope with an arch smile, "he does not ask thishour for me; knowing it's the time of my siesta."
Elsie found Egerton pacing the parlor floor to and fro. He took herhand, led her to the sofa, and sitting down by her side, began at onceto defend himself against Mr. Travilla's charge. He told her he hadnever been guilty of gambling; he had "sowed some wild oats," yearsago--getting slightly intoxicated on two or three occasions, andthings of that sort--but it was all over and repented of; and surelyshe could not think it just and right that it should be brought upagainst him now.
As to Mr. Travilla's story--the only way he could account for thesingular mistake was in the fact that he had a cousin who bore thesame name as himself, and resembled him so closely that they hadbeen frequently mistaken for each other. And that cousin, mostunfortunately, especially on account of the likeness, did both drinkand gamble. He was delighted by the look of relief that came overElsie's face, as he told her this. She cared for him, then; yet herconfidence had been shaken.
"Ah, you doubted me, then?" he said in a tone of sorrowful reproach.
"Oh! I could not bear to think it possible. I was sure there must be amistake somewhere," she said with a beautiful smile.
"But you are quite satisfied now?"
"Quite."
Then he told her he loved her very dearly, better than his own soul;that he found he could not live without her; life would not be worthhaving, unless she would consent to share it with him. "Would she, oh!would she promise some day to be his own precious little wife?"
Elsie listened with downcast, blushing face, and soft eyes beamingwith joy; for the events of that day had revealed to her the fact thatthis man had made himself master of her heart.
"Will you not give to me a word of hope?" pleaded Egerton.
"I--I cannot, must not, without my father's permission," she faltered,"and oh! he forbade me to listen to anything of the kind. I am tooyoung he says."
"When was that?"
"Three years ago."
"Ah! but you are older now; and you will let me write and ask hisconsent? I may say that you are not quite indifferent to me?"
"Yes," she murmured, turning her sweet, blushing face away from hisardent gaze.
"Thank you, dearest, a thousand thanks!" he cried, pressing her handin his. "And now may I ask who and what that Mr. Travilla is?"
She explained, winding up by saying that he was much like a secondfather to her.
"Father!" he exclaimed, "he doesn't look a day over twenty-five."
"He is about two years younger than papa and doesn't look any younger,I think," she answered with a smile. "But strangers are very apt totake papa for my brother."
Egerton left an hour before Mr. Travilla came, and that hour Elsiespent in her own room in a state of great excitement,--now full of thesweet joy of loving and being loved, now trembling with apprehensionat the thought of the probable effect of Mr. Travilla's story upon herfather. She was fully convinced of Egerton's truth and innocence; yetquite aware that his explanation might not prove so satisfactory toMr. Dinsmore.
"Oh, papa, papa!" she murmured, as she paced restlessly to and fro,"how can I obey if you bid me give him up? And yet I must. I know itwill be my duty, and that I must."
"What a color you hab in your cheeks, darlin'! an' how your eyesdo shine. I'se 'fraid you's gettin' a fever," said Chloe, with ananxious, troubled gaze into her young lady's face, as she came in todress her for the evening.
"Oh, no, mammy, I am perfectly well," Elsie answered with a slightlaugh. Then seating herself before the glass, "Now do your best," shesaid gayly, "for we are to have company to tea. I doubt if you canguess whom?"
"Den 'spose my pet saves her ole mammy de trouble. 'Taint massa, forsure?"
"No, not quite so welcome a guest; but one you'll be delighted to see.Mr. Travilla."
"Ki, darlin'! he not here?"
"Yes, he came this morning. Ah! I knew you'd be delighted."
Elsie knew that it would require the very strongest proof to convinceher father of the truth of Mr. Egerton's story, but hoped to find Mr.Travilla much more ready to give it credence. She was proportionablydisappointed when, on hearing it from her, he scouted it as utterlyunworthy of belief, or even examination.
"No, my child," he said, "the man's face is indelibly impressed uponmy memory, and I can not be mistaken in his identity."
Elsie's face flushed crimson, and indignant tears sprang to her eyesand trembled in her voice as she answered, "I never knew you souncharitable before, sir. I could not have believed it of mykind-hearted, generous old friend."
He gave her a very troubled, anxious look, as he replied, "Why shouldyou take it so to heart, Elsie? Surely this man is nothing to you."
"He is to be some day, if papa will permit," she murmured, turningaway her blushing face from his gaze.
Mr. Travilla uttered a groan, made two or three rapid turns across theroom, and coming back to her side, laid his hand in an affectionate,fatherly manner upon her shoulder.
"My dear," he said with emotion, "I don't know when I have heardanything that distressed me so much; or that could give such pain anddistress to your doting father."
"Mr. Travilla, you will not, you cannot be so unkind, so cruel, as totry to persuade papa to think as you do of--of Mr. Egerton?"
Her tone was half indignant, half imploring, and her eyes were liftedpleadingly to his face.
"My poor child," he said, "I could not be so cruel to you as to leavehim in ignorance of any of the facts; but I shall not attempt tobias his judgment; nor would it avail if I did. Your father is anindependent thinker, and will make up his mind for himself."
"And against poor Bromly," thou
ght Elsie, with an emotion of anguish,and something akin to rebellion rising in her heart.
Mr. Travilla read it all in her speaking countenance. "Do not fearyour father's decision, my little friend." he said, sitting downbeside her again, "he is very just, and you are as the apple of hiseye. He will sift the matter thoroughly, and decide as he shall deembest for your happiness. Can you not trust his wisdom and his love?"
"I know he loves me very dearly, Mr. Travilla, but--he is only human,and may make a mistake."
"Then try to leave it all in the hands of your heavenly Father, whocannot err, who is infinite in wisdom, power, and in His love foryou."
"I will try," she said with a quivering lip. "Now please talk to meof something else. Tell me of that young man. Did you say he shothimself?"
"Young Beresford, my friend's son? No, he was prevented." And he wenton to tell of Rudolph's horror and remorse on account of that rashact, and of the excesses that led to it; also of the trembling hopehis parents and friends were beginning to indulge that he was nowtruly penitent, and, clothed in his right mind, was sitting at theSaviour's feet.
Elsie listened with interest. They had had the parlor to themselvesfor an hour or more, Miss Stanhope having received an unexpectedsummons to the bedside of a sick neighbor.
She was with them at tea, and during most of the evening, but leftthem alone together for a moment just before Mr. Travilla took hisleave, and he seized the opportunity to say to Elsie that he thoughtshe ought to refrain from further intercourse with Egerton till sheshould learn her father's will in regard to the matter.
"I cannot promise--I will think of it," she said with a look ofdistress.
"You write frequently to your papa?"
"Every day."
"I know you would not wish to deceive him in the least. Will you tellhim what I conceive to be the facts in regard to Mr. Egerton? or shallI?"
"I cannot, oh, I cannot!" she murmured, turning away her face.
"Then I shall spare you the painful task, by, doing it myself, my poorchild. I shall write to-night."
She was silent, but he could see the tumultuous heaving of her breast,and the tears glistening on the heavy drooping lashes that swept herpale cheek. His heart bled for her, while his indignation waxed hotagainst the hypocritical scoundrel who, he feared, had succeeded onlytoo well in wrecking her happiness.
She had described to him Egerton's character as he had made it appearto her, telling of their conversations on religious subjects, hissupposed conversion, etc., etc.; thus unintentionally enablingTravilla to see clearly through the man's base designs. He silentlyresolved to stay in Lansdale and watch over her until her father'sarrival.
"You ride out daily?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir."
"May I be your escort to-morrow?"
She cast down her eyes, which she had lifted to his face for aninstant, blushing painfully. It seemed an effort for her to reply, andthe words came slowly, and with hesitation. "I--should be glad to haveyou, sir; you know I have always valued your society, but--Mr. Egertonalways goes with us--Lottie King and me--of late; and--and I canhardly suppose either of you would now find the company of the otheragreeable."
"No, Elsie; but what do you think your father would wish?"
"I know he would be glad to have me under your care, and if you don'tmind the unpleasantness."
"My dear, I would cheerfully endure far more than that, to watch overyour father's child. You will not let this unhappy circumstance turnyou against your old friend? I could hardly bear that, little Elsie."And he drew her toward him caressingly.
"Oh, no, no! I don't think anything could do that; you've always beenso good to me--almost a second father."
He released her hand with a slight involuntary sigh, as at thatinstant Miss Stanhope re-entered the room. The two were standing bythe piano, Mr. Travilla having risen from one of the cushioned chairsto draw near to Elsie while talking to her. Miss Stanhope flew to thechair, caught up the cushion, shook it, laid it down again, and withtwo or three little loving pats restored it to its normal condition ofperfect roundness. Mr. Travilla watched her with a surprised, puzzledlook.
"Have I done any mischief, Elsie?" he asked in an undertone.
"Oh, no!" she answered with a faint smile, "it's only auntie's way."
Their visitor had gone, and Elsie turned to her aunt to saygood-night.
"Something is wrong with you, child; can't you tell the trouble toyour old auntie, and let her try to comfort you?" Miss Stanhope asked,putting an arm about the slender waist, and scanning the sweet face,usually so bright and rosy, now so pale and agitated, with a look ofkeen but loving scrutiny.
Then, in broken words, and with many a little half-sobbing sigh andone or two scalding tears, hastily brushed away, Elsie told the wholepainful story, secure of warm sympathy from the kind heart to whichshe was so tenderly folded.
Miss Stanhope believed in Bromly Egerton almost as firmly as Elsieherself; what comfort there was in that! She believed too in theinspired assurances that "all things work together for good to themthat love God," and that He is the hearer and answerer of prayer. Shereminded her niece of them; bade her cast her burden on the Lord andleave it there, and cheered her with the hope that Bromly would beable to prove to her father that Mr. Travilla was entirely mistaken.