CHAPTER XIX.
CALLED TO ACCOUNT.
It was a long road for a woman to travel at that unconventional hour,but Leslie Warburton was fleet-footed, and fear and excitement lent herstrength.
Necessity had taught her how to enter and escape from the dangerous mazewhere the people who claimed a right in her existence dwelt. And onbeing forced to flee by her haughty brother-in-law, she bowed her headand wrapping herself in her dark cloak sped away through the night.
She had little fear of being missed by her guests,--a masquerade affordslatitude impossible to any other gathering, and contrary to the usualcustom, the maskers were to continue their _incognito_ until thecotillion began. If her guests missed her, she would be supposed to bein some other apartment. If she were missed by Winnie, that little ladywould say: "She is with Archibald, of course."
Nevertheless, it was an unsafe journey. But she accomplished it, andarrived, panting, weary, and filled with a terrible dread at the thoughtof the exposure that must follow her encounter with Alan.
They were dancing still, her light-hearted guests, and Leslie resumedher Sunlight robes, and going back to her place among them forcedherself to smile and seem to be gay, while her heart grew every momentheavier with its burden of fear and dire foreboding.
Anxiously she watched the throng, hoping, yet dreading, to see thesailor costume of Alan, fearing lest, in spite of his high courage,disaster had overtaken him.
It was in the grey of morning, and her guests were dispersing, when AlanWarburton reappeared. He was muffled as at first, in the black andscarlet domino, and he moved with the slow languor of one utterlyexhausted or worn with pain.
At length it was over; the last guest had departed, the house wassilent, and Leslie and Alan stood face to face under the soft light ofthe library chandelier.
During the ceremonies of departure, he had remained constantly near her.And when they were left, at last, with only Winnie French beside them,Leslie, seeing that the interview was inevitable, had asked Winnie tolook in upon little Daisy, adding, as the girl, with a gay jest, turnedto go:
"I will join you there soon, Winnie, dear; just now Alan and I have alittle to say about some things that have occurred to-night."
Tossing a kiss to Leslie, and bestowing a grimace upon Alan as he heldopen the door for her exit, Winnie had _pirouetted_ out of the room, andsped up the broad stairway as fleetly as if her little feet were notweary with five hours' dancing.
Then Leslie, with a stately gesture, had led the way to the library.
Silently, and as if by one accord, they paused under the chandelier, andeach gazed into the face of the other.
His eyes met hers, stern, accusing, and darkened with pain; whileshe--her bearing was proud as his, her face mournful, her eyes resolute,her lips set in firm lines. She looked neither criminal nor penitent;she was a woman driven to bay, and she would fight rather than flee.
Looking him full in the face, she made no effort to break the silence.Seeing which, Alan Warburton said:
"Madam, you play your part well. You are not now the nocturnal wanderermenaced by a danger--"
"From which you rescued me," she interrupts, her face softening. "Alan,it was a brave deed, and I thank you a thousand times!"
"I do not desire your gratitude, Madam. I could have done no less, andwould do yet more to save from disgrace the name we bear in common. Wasyour absence noted? Did you return safely and secretly?"
"I have not been missed, and I returned as safely and as secretly as Iwent."
Her voice was calm, her countenance had hardened as at first.
"Madam, let us understand each other. One year ago the name of Warburtonhad never known a stain; now--"
He let the wrath in his eyes, the scorn in his face, finish what hislips left unsaid.
But the eyes of his beautiful opponent flashed him back scorn for scorn.
"Now," she said, with calm contempt in her voice, "now, the proudest manof the Warburton race has stepped down from his pedestal to play thespy, and upon a woman! I thank you for rescuing me, Alan Warburton, butI have no thanks to offer for _that_!"
"A spy!" He winced as his lips framed the word. "We are calling hardnames, Mrs. Warburton. If I was a spy in that house, _what_ were you! I_have_ been a spy upon your actions, and I have seen that which hascaused me to blush for my brother's wife, and tremble for my brother'shonor. More than once I have seen you leave this house, and return toit, clandestinely. It was one of these secret expeditions, which Idiscovered by the merest chance, that aroused my watchfulness. More thanonce have letters passed to and fro through some disreputable-lookingmessenger. To-night, for the first time, I discovered _where_ you paidyour visits, but not to _whom_. To-night I traced you to the vilest denin all the city. Madam, this mystery must be cleared up. What wretchedsecret have you brought into my brother's house? What sin or shame areyou hiding under his name? What is this disgrace that is likely to burstupon us at any moment?"
Slowly she moved toward him, looking straight into his angry, scornfulface. Slowly she answered:
"Alan Warburton, you have appointed yourself my accuser; you shall notbe my judge. I am answerable to you for nothing. From this moment I oweyou neither courtesy nor gratitude. I _have_ a secret, but it shall betold to my husband, not to you. If I have done wrong, I have wrongedhim, not you. You have insulted me under my own roof to-night, for thelast time. I will tell my story to Archibald now; he shall judge betweenus."
She turned away, but he laid a detaining hand upon her arm.
"Stop!" he said, "you must not go to Archibald with this; you shallnot!"
"Shall not!" she exclaimed scornfully; "and who will prevent it?"
"I will prevent it. Woman, have you neither heart nor conscience? Wouldyou add murder to your list of transgressions?"
"Let me go, Alan Warburton," she answered impatiently; "I have done withyou."
"But I have not done with you! Oh, you know my brother well; he istrusting, confiding, blind where you are concerned. He believes in yourtruth, and he must continue so to believe. He must not hear of thisnight's work."
"But he shall; every word of it."
"Every word! Take care, Mrs. Warburton. Will you tell him of the loverwho was here to-night, disguised as a woman, the better to hover aboutyou?"
"You wretch!" She threw off his restraining hand and turned upon him,her eyes blazing. Then, after a moment, the fierce look of indignationgave place to a smile of contempt.
"Yes," she said, turning again toward the door, "I shall tell him ofthat too."
"Then you will give him his death-blow; understand that! Yesterday, whenhis physician visited him, he told us the truth. Archibald's life isshort at best; any shock, any strong emotion or undue excitement, willcause his death. Quiet and rest are indispensable. To-morrow--to-day,you were to be told these things. By Archibald's wish they were withheldfrom you until now, lest they should spoil your pleasure in themasquerade."
The last words were mockingly uttered, but Leslie paid no heed to thetone.
"Are you telling me the truth?" she demanded. "Must I play my partstill?"
"I am telling you the truth. You must continue to play your part, so faras he is concerned. For his sake I ask you to trust me. You bear ourname, our honor is in your keeping. Whatever your faults, your misdeeds,have been, they must be kept secrets still. I ask you to trust me,--notthat I may denounce you, but to enable me to protect us all from theconsequences of your follies."
If the words were conciliatory, the tone was hard and stern. AlanWarburton could ill play the role he had undertaken.
The look she now turned upon him was one of mingled wonder and scorn.
"You are incomprehensible," she said. "I am gratified to know that itwas not my life nor my honor, but your own name, that you savedto-night,--it lessens my obligation. Being a woman, I am nothing; beinga Warburton, disgrace must not touch me! So be it. If I may not confidein my husband, I will keep my own counsel still. And
if I cannot mastermy trouble alone, then, perhaps, as a last resort, and for the sake ofthe Warburton honor, I will call upon you for aid."
There was no time for a reply. While the last words were yet on herlips, the heavy curtains were thrust hastily aside and Winnie French,pallid and trembling, stood in the doorway.
"Leslie! Alan!" she cried, coming toward them with a sob in her throat,"we have lost little Daisy!"
"Lost her!"
Alan Warburton uttered the two words as one who does not comprehendtheir meaning. But Leslie stood transfixed, like one stunned, yet notstartled, by an anticipated blow.
"We have hunted everywhere," Winnie continued wildly. "She is not in thehouse, she is not--"
She catches her breath at the cry that breaks from Leslie's lips, andfor a moment those three, their festive garments in startling contrastwith their woe-stricken faces, regard each other silently.
Then Leslie, overcome at last by the accumulating horrors of thisterrible night, sways, gasps, and falls forward, pallid and senseless,at Alan Warburton's feet.