CHAPTER XIX
The End of the Story
Paris in June! Do you know it, with its bright days and its softnights, murmurous with voices? Paris with its crowded pavements--andsuch a crowd, where every man and woman awakens interest, excitesspeculation! Paris, with its blue sky and its trees, and itscolor--and its fascination there is no describing!
Joy is a great restorer, and a week of happiness in this enchantedcity had wrought wonders in our junior and his betrothed. It was goodto look at them--to smile at them sometimes; as when they stoodunseeing before some splendid canvas at the Louvre. The past was putaside, forgotten; they lived only for the future.
And a near future, too. There was no reason why it should be deferred;we had all agreed that they were better married at once; so, thatdecided, the women sent us about our own affairs, and spent theintervening fortnight in a riot of visits to the costumer: for, inParis, even for a very quiet wedding, a bride must have her trousseau.But the great day came at last; the red tape of French administrationwas successfully unknotted; and at noon they were wedded, with only wethree for witnesses, at the pretty chapel of St. Luke's, near theBoulevard Montparnasse.
There was a little breakfast afterward at Mrs. Kemball's apartment,and then our hostess bade them adieu, and her daughter and I drovewith them across Paris to the Gare de Lyon, where they were to taketrain for a fortnight on the Riviera. We waved them off and turnedback together.
"It is a desecration to use a carriage on such a day," said mycompanion: so we dismissed ours and sauntered afoot down the BoulevardDiderot toward the river.
"So that is the end of the story," she said musingly.
"Of _their_ story, yes," I interjected.
"But there are still certain things I do not quite understand," shecontinued, not heeding me.
"Yes?"
"For instance--why did they trouble to keep her prisoner?"
"Family affection?"
"Nonsense! There could be none. Besides the man dominated them; and Ibelieve him to have been capable of any crime."
"Perhaps he meant the hundred thousand to be only the first payment.With her at hand, he might hope to get more indefinitely. Withouther----"
"Well, without her?"
"Oh, the plot grows and grows, the more one thinks of it! I believe itgrew under his hands in just the same way. I don't doubt that it wouldhave come, at last, to Miss Holladay's death by some subtle means; tothe substitution of her sister for her--after a year or two abroad,who could have detected it? And then--oh, then, she would have marriedFajolle again, and they would have settled down to the enjoyment ofher fortune. And he would have been a great man--oh, a very great man.He would have climbed and climbed."
My companion nodded.
"_Touche!_" she cried.
I bowed my thanks; I was learning French as rapidly as circumstancespermitted.
"But Frances did not see them again?"
"Oh, no; she preferred not."
"And the money?"
"Was left in the box. I sent back the key. She wished it so. Afterall, it was her mother----"
"Yes, of course; perhaps she was not really so bad."
"She wasn't," I said decidedly. "But the man----"
"Was a genius. I'm almost sorry he's dead."
"I'm more than sorry--it has taken an interest out of life."
We had come out upon the bridge of Austerlitz, and paused,involuntarily. Below us was the busy river, with its bridges, itsboats, its crowds along the quays; far ahead, dominating the scene,the towers of the cathedral; and the warm sun of June was over it all.We leaned upon the balustrade and gazed at all this beauty.
"And now the mystery is cleared away," she said, "and the prince andthe princess are wedded, just as they were in the fairy tales of ourchildhood. It's a good ending."
"For all stories," I added.
She turned and looked at me.
"There are other stories," I explained. "Theirs is not the only one."
"No?"
The spirit of Paris--or perhaps the June sunshine--was in my veins,running riot, clamorous, not to be repressed.
"Certainly not. There might be another, for instance, with you and meas the principals."
I dared not look at her; I could only stare ahead of me down at thewater.
She made no sign; the moments passed.
"Might be," I said desperately. "But there's a wide abyss between thepossible and the actual."
Still no sign; I had offended her--I might have known!
But I mustered courage to steal a sidelong glance at her.
She was smiling down at the water, and her eyes were very bright.
"Not always," she whispered. "Not always."
Transcriber's notes:
Variations in spelling have been left as in the original.
The following changes have been made to the text:
Page 33: "possibilty" corrected to "possibility" ("... precluding thepossibility of anyone swinging down from above ...")
Page 183: "Cafe" corrected to "Cafe" ("At the Cafe Jourdain")
Page 268: "sat" corrected to "set" ("... and we set at once about thework of finding a vehicle.")
Page 280: erroneous chapter numbering corrected, for the chapter title"The Veil is Lifted" ("Chapter XVII" corrected to "Chapter XVIII")
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends