CHAPTER IV.
THE DIE IS CAST.
Lucian Davlin paced the platform of the Bellair depot, in a veryunpleasant frame of mind.
His companion,--half servant, half confederate, wholly and entirely arascal,--discerning his mood and, as ever, adapting himself to it, hadwithdrawn to a respectful distance. Only the shine of his cigar,glowing through the darkness, betokened his proximity, or the factthat the dark platform was not in the sole possession of the sullenman who paced its brief length, and questioned the Fate in which hetrusted, and which, for once, had played him a sorry trick.
"Gad! to be baffled like this!"--page 46.]
He had been deceived by a mere school-girl. She had not even deignedhim a farewell word. He had lost a fair prize.
"Gad!" he muttered, biting viciously at his cigar, "to be baffled likethis; to lose that little beauty; to be foiled like a moon-struckidiot and never know how or why! I can't write her, with that cursedold step-father to interfere. I can't return again very soon. And she_is_ such a little beauty!"
He paused at the end of the darkened platform, and looked down thetrack; in the direction of the grove where they had met, and ofMadeline's home. It was almost time for the train. At the upper end ofthe platform, the station master flashed his lantern, tumbled theluggage closer to the track and examined the checks critically; whilethe Man of Tact came out from his retirement and overlooked theproceeding.
Something was coming down the track, swiftly, silently. He could justdiscern a shape moving toward him. It came nearer, and he moved up afew paces, and turned again where the lantern's rays fell upon him. Itcame nearer yet and paused in the shadow. It was a woman's form, andit beckoned. He approached carelessly.
"Lucian!" She came close to him, and placed her hand upon his arm,drawing her breath hard and quick.
He drew her farther into the shadow and clasped his arms about her."Little one! You have walked fast,--how your heart beats! I had givenyou up. Is it 'good by,' dear?"
She silently held up the little chatelaine, which he felt rather thansaw, and took from her hand. In the darkness, he smiled again the oldexultant smile not good to see, and pressing her closer in his arms,said:
"Don't try to talk, sweet one; see, yonder comes our fiery horse andsoon we will be far on our way. Take my arm, little one, and trust himwho loves you. Look your last at the scene of your pastloneliness,--to-morrow comes the gay world."
Rattling and shrieking, the train approached. Lucian hurried hiscompanion upon the rear platform; and neither his comrade, who enteredthe smoking car without looking about him, nor the station master,busy with his trunks and valises, observed that a third passengerquitted Bellair station on the night express.
About them, the passengers nodded, yawned or slept. Outside, swiftlypassing darkness. And every moment was hurrying her farther andfarther away from all familiar scenes and objects, out to a life alluntried, a world all new and strange. But she never thought of this.She was not elated, neither was she cast down. She felt no fear;--and,afterwards, she remembered that she indulged in no bright visions ofthe future during her swift flight.
She had prepared herself to relate her story, to describe the sceneshe had just passed through, to tell him all. But he had other thingsto occupy his mind, and bidding her to rest and save all she mighthave to relate until the morrow, he relapsed into silence and thought,only now and then gently speaking a word, and looking after hercomfort with a happy grace possessed by few, and so powerful in thewinning of a woman.
On, on, through the black night--youth and age, joy and sorrow, hopeand despair, good and evil; on together through the night; on, on.Near to the great city; near to the welcome, dark or bright, awaitingthe journey's end. Blacker grew the night, wilder shrieked the wind inangry protest against the defiant, fiery, resistless monster uponwhom its rage fell impotent. Now pausing; now rushing on with a shriekand a roar; nearer, nearer to the scene of the new life, dawninggrimly upon the fair girl, all unconscious, unheeding.
They halted at a wayside station--just one of those little hamletsonly a few miles removed from, and really a part of the great city.One passenger came on board, sauntering down the coach's lengthlistlessly, wearily. He threw himself into a reversed seat in a halfreclining attitude, and so his careless, wandering gaze fell firstupon Madeline, seated opposite and very near.
She sees him just as she sees the rest, vaguely. She remembers, later,that he had a good face and that she had thought it then. But confusedand wearied in mind and body, she feels no inclination to observe orthink. So they were hurried on, and no whisper of her heart, noquickening of the pulses, or sensation of joy or fear, warned her thatshe was sitting under the gaze and in the presence of the good and theevil forces that were to compass and shape her life.
Open your eyes, oh, Madeline, before it is too late. See the snarethat is spreading beneath your feet; read aright the bright glancethat shines on you from those handsome, fateful eyes. Interpret trulythe smile turned on you now. Alas! what woman ever saw guile in theeyes of the man she loved? Never one, until those eyes have ceased tosmile upon her, and her fate is sealed. What one ever yet recognizedthe false ring of the voice that had never, as yet, addressed her savein honeyed tones, that seemed earth's sweetest music to her ears?None, until the voice had changed and forgotten its love words; none,until it was too late.
What Madeline saw, was a man who was to her the embodiment of allmanly grace, her all of joy and love, of truth and trust. And, sittingopposite, just a young man with fair curling hair, and frank blueeyes; with a fine manly face, and an air of refinement. A very niceyoung man; but not like her hero.
Not like her hero? No, thank heaven for that, Madeline, else your waywould have been far more drear, else your life might have known nevera ray of sunlight, in the long days to come.
On, on; nearer and yet nearer the long journey's end. Both thinking ofher, but how differently!
One pityingly, sadly, fearing for her fate, longing to save her fromthe precipice which she could not see and still wear that look ofsweet trustfulness.
One triumphantly, as of a fair prize gained; a new tribute to hispower and strength; another smile from Chance; one more proof that hewas a favored one of Fortune, and that life ever gave him good thingsfrom out the very best.
They are very near their journey's end now, and Lucian Davlin whispersbriefly to Madeline, and lounges out to give some necessary directionsto the neglected companion of his wanderings.
Hastily the young man opposite rises, and crossing to Madeline bendsover her, speaking hurriedly.
"Pardon me, madame, but are you a stranger to the city?"
"Yes." After giving her answer she wonders why she did it, rememberingthat it is from a stranger the question comes, and that it istherefore an impertinence.
"I thought as much!"--the blue eyes look troubled, and the manly voicehurries on. "The time may come, I hope it will not, when you will needa friend. If so, this card bears my address,--take it, keep it, andbelieve me, I speak from honest motives and a desire to serve you."
He drops a card in her lap, and as she makes a gesture of repulsion,he says, entreatingly: "Take it; _in the name of your mother_ I askit."
She snatches up the card impulsively, and looks for one momentstraight in his eyes. Then drawing a long sighing breath says, simply,"I will," and turns away as she puts it in her pocket, never so muchas glancing at it.
"Thank you." He lifts his hat, and resumes his seat and his formerattitude just as Lucian reappears.
Now all was bustle and confusion, the journey's end was reached; andthrough the hurrying, jostling crowd, past flickering lamps, andsleepy guards, they went under the dusky arches of the mammoth citystation, out among the bawling 'bus drivers and brawling hackmen, pastthem, until a carriage, that seemed to be in waiting for them justbeyond the noisy crowd, was reached. Stepping into this, they wereabout to drive away when, in the shadow, and very near them, Madelinediscerned the form of the Unknown
of the railway train. Then Luciangave the order from the carriage window, and they rolled away.
The man in the shadow heard, and stepping into the nearest carriage,repeated the order given by Lucian the moment before, adding: "Quick;don't lose a moment!"
And thus it was that a carriage passed swiftly by that which containedDavlin and his companion, and the flash of their vehicle's lamp showedMadeline the face looking from its window.
Again that face seen in the shadow--how strange, thought she; but herlover was speaking and she forgot all else.
"Take it; _in the name of your mother_ I ask it.--page50.]
"Darling, I must leave you soon. I came up to-night on a matter ofbusiness, and to meet a friend who will leave to-morrow early. I musttherefore keep my appointment to-night, late as it is; or rather thismorning, for it is midnight and past. You will not be afraid, dear,left alone for a little while in a great hotel?"
"I am not afraid, Lucian, but--"
"But lonely; is that it? Well, sweetheart, it's only for a littlewhile, and to-morrow I will come for you, and all shall be arranged.We'll have no more separations then. Rest well and at noon to-morrowbe ready; I will be with you then. Meantime, your every want will besupplied, and let the morrow find my little treasure bright-eyed andblooming."
"Oh, Lucian, Lucian! how strange this seems. I can't realize it atall."
He laughed lightly. "Not afraid, little one?"
"Not afraid, Lucian, no; but I can't explain or describe my feelings.I suppose I need rest; that is all."
"That is all, depend upon it; and here we are. One kiss, Madeline, thelast till to-morrow."
He folded her tenderly in his arms, and then sprang lightly from thecarriage.
Up and down, far as the eye could see, the street lamps glittered, andas Madeline stepped from the carriage she observed another roll away.High above her loomed the great hotel, and after midnight though itwas, all here was life and bustle. The scene was novel to the halfbewildered girl. Clinging to her lover's arm, she entered thereception-room and, sitting opposite the door, saw a form pass in thedirection Lucian had taken, as he went to register her name and orderfor her "all that the house could afford."
"I did not give your real name, because of your step-father, youknow," said Lucian, upon his return. "I registered you as Miss Weir,that name being the first to occur to me."
She looked a trifle disturbed, but said nothing. A few words more anda servant appeared.
"To conduct you to your room," said Lucian.
Together they moved towards the door; there he lifted his hat, withprofound courtesy, and said in a very audible tone: "Good-night, MissWeir; I will call to-morrow noon; pleasant dreams."
"To-morrow noon," she echoed.
As she watched his retreating figure, another passed her; a man who,meeting her eye, lifted _his_ hat and passed out.
"He again!" whispered the girl to herself; "how very strange."
Alone in her room, the face of this man looked at her again, andsitting down, she said, wearily: "Who is he? what does he mean? Hisname--I'll look at the card."
Taking it from her pocket, she read aloud: Clarence Vaughan, M. D.,No. 430 B---- street.
"Clarence Vaughan, M. D.," she repeated. "What did he mean? I musttell Lucian to-morrow; to-night I am too weary to think. Search forme, John Arthur; find me if you can! To-morrow--what will it bring, Iwonder?"
Weary one, rest, for never again will you sleep so innocently, so freefrom care as now. Sleep well, nor dream!
She slept. Of the three who had been brought into contact thusstrangely, Madeline slept most soundly and dreamed the brighterdreams.
It was the last ray of her sunlight; when the day dawned, her nightbegan.