CHAPTER XV.
"HUBERT CARES FOR ME NO LONGER," SOBBED THE GIRL.
It seemed to Hubert Varrick, as he clasped his arms around Gerelda, thathe must be some other person than the man who had once loved this girlto idolatry. Now the clasp of her hand or the touch of her lips did notafford him an extra pulse-glow.
"Tell me, Hubert," she cried, "that you are as glad to see me as I am tosee you."
"It is a great surprise to me, Gerelda," he answered, huskily, "so greatthat I am not quite myself just now. It will take me some little time tocollect my scattered senses."
He led her to the nearest seat.
"My cousin has told you all that has happened to me from the hour thatwe parted until now, darling," she whispered. "Now tell me, Hubert,about yourself. Your heart must have almost broken, dear. I was fearfullest you might have pined away and died because of my untimely loss."
"Oh, Gerelda!" he cried, starting up distressedly, tears choking hisvoice, "do not say any more; you are unmanning me with every word youutter. I-- I can not bear it!"
"Forgive me, my darling!" she muttered. "You are right. It is best notto probe fresh wounds. But, oh! Hubert, I am so thankful that theworkings of fate have joined our hearts together at last!"
He could not find it in his heart to tell her the truth when she lovedhim so; and yet he felt that he owed it to Gerelda to tell her all; butit is hard, terribly hard to own up to being faithless; and he said tohimself that he could not tell her now, in the flush of her joy atmeeting him, but would break it to her later on.
"This almost seems like getting acquainted with you and falling in lovewith you over again," laughed Gerelda, as she talked to him in the samegay, witty manner that had once so enthralled him in the old days. "Iwonder, Hubert," she said at length, "that you have not asked me to singor play for you. You used to be so delighted to hear me sing. Whilelying on my sick-bed I heard my old nurse sing a song that you desiredme to learn. I have learned it now for you, Hubert. Listen to it, dear."
As Gerelda spoke she picked up a mandolin, and after striking a fewsoftly vibrating notes, commenced to sing in a low strain the tenderwords of his favorite song, which she knew would be sure to find an echoin his heart, if anything in this world would.
Ah! what a wondrous voice she had, so full of pathetic music and thetenderness of wonderful love!
He listened, and something very like the old love stirred his heart.
The song had moved him, as she knew it would--ay, as nothing else inthis world could ever have done.
He bowed his head, and Gerelda, looking at him keenly from under herlong lashes, saw that his strong hand was shaking like an oak leaf inthe wind.
He leaned over and brushed back the curls caressingly from her forehead,as a brother might have done.
"You are very good to have learned that for my sake; Gerelda," hemurmured. "I thank you for it."
"We must learn to sing it together," she declared.
"My voice is not what it used to be," he said, apologetically.
He lingered until the clock on the mantel struck ten; then he rose andtook his departure.
To Gerelda's great chagrin, he made no offer to kiss her good-night atparting.
It was plainly evident that he wished her to understand that they wereon a different footing from what they were on that memorable night whenthey were parted so strangely from each other.
When his footsteps had died away, Gerelda flung herself face downward onthe divan, sobbing as if her heart would break; and in this position, afew minutes later, her mother surprised her.
"Why, Gerelda!" she cried. "I am shocked! What can this mean? It can notbe that you and your lover have had a quarrel the very hour in which youhave been restored to each other! Surely, there is no lingering doubt inhis heart now, that you eloped!"
Gerelda eagerly seized upon this idea.
"There seems to be, mother," she sobbed.
Mrs. Northrup drew a cushioned chair close beside her daughter, and drewthe dark, curly head into her arms.
"You must make a confidante of me, my darling, and tell me all he said,"she declared. "I was quite amazed to hear the servants say that he hadgone so early. I expected to be summoned every moment, to learn thatyour impatient lover had sent out for a minister to perform the delayedceremony."
Gerelda raised her tear-stained face and looked at her mother.
"No; he did not even mention marriage, mother," she sobbed.
"What!" shrieked Mrs. Northrup, in dismay. "Do I understand aright--hemade no mention of marriage?"
The girl sobbed. Mrs. Northrup sprang to her feet and paced up and downthe floor.
"I-- I do not understand it," she cried. "Tell me what he had to say;repeat the conversation that passed between you."
"It did not amount to anything," returned her daughter bitterly. "To bequite plain with you, mamma, he was very distant and cold toward me. Infact, it was almost like getting acquainted with him over again; and toadd insult to injury, as he took my hand for an instant at parting, hesaid, 'Good-night, Miss Northrup.' Oh! what shall I do, mamma--adviseme! Ought I to give him up?"
"No," said Mrs. Northrup, sternly, "that would never do. That marriagemust take place!"