St. Elmo Part 32

"I had not heard the report."

"Then you think there are no grounds for the rumor?"

"Indeed, madam, I know nothing whatever concerning the matter."

"Estelle is handsome and brilliant."

Edna made no reply; and, after waiting a few seconds, Mrs. Powell asked:

"Does Mr. Murray go much into society now?"

"I believe not."

"Is he as handsome as ever?"

"I do not know when you saw him last, but the ladies here seem rather to dread than admire him. Mrs. Powell, you are dipping your sleeve in your uncle's inkstand."

She by no means relished this catechism, and resolved to end it.

Picking up her books, she said to Mr. Hammond, who now stood in the door:

"I presume I need not wait, as you will be too much occupied to-day to attend to my lessons."

"Yes; I must give you holiday until Monday."

"Miss Earl, may I trouble you to hand this letter to Miss Harding?

It was entrusted to my care by one of her friends in New York. Pray be so good as to deliver it, with my kindest regards."

As Edna left the house, the pastor took his hat from the rack in the hall, and walked silently beside her until she reached the gate.

"Mr. Hammond, your niece is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

He sighed heavily, and answered, hesitatingly:

"Yes, yes. She is more beautiful now than when she first grew up."

"How long has she been a widow?"

"Not quite a year."

The troubled expression settled once more over his placid face, and when Edna bade him good-morning, and had walked some distance, she happened to look back, and saw him still leaning on the little gate under the drooping honeysuckle tendrils, with his gray head bent down on his hand. That Mrs. Powell was in some way connected with Mr. Murray's estrangement from the minister Edna felt sure, and the curiosity which the inquiries of the former had betrayed, told her that she must be guarded in her intercourse with a woman who was an object of distrust even to her own uncle.

Very often she had been tempted to ask Mr. Hammond why Mr. Murray so sedulously shunned him; but the shadow which fell upon his countenance whenever St. Elmo's name was accidentally mentioned, made her shrink from alluding to the subject which he evidently avoided discussing.

Before she had walked beyond the outskirts of the village, Mr. Leigh joined her and she felt the color rise in her cheeks as his fine eyes rested on her face, and his hand pressed hers. "You must forgive me for telling you how bitterly I was disappointed in not seeing you two days ago. Why did you absent yourself from the table?"

"Because I had no desire to meet Mrs. Murray's guests, and preferred to spend my time with Mr. Hammond."

"If he were not old enough to be your grandfather, I believe I should be jealous of him. Edna, do not be offended, I am so anxious about you--so pained at the change in your appearance. Last Sunday as you sat in church I noticed how very pale and worn you looked, and with what weariness you leaned your head upon your hand. Mrs.

Murray says you are very well, but I know better. You are either sick in body or mind; which is it?"

"Neither, Mr. Leigh. I am quite well, I a.s.sure you."

"You are grieved about something, which you are unwilling to confide to me. Edna, it is keen pain that sometimes brings that quiver to your lips, and if you would only tell me! Edna, I know that I--"

"You conjure up a spectre. I have nothing to confide, and there is no trouble which you can relieve."

They walked on silently for a while, and then Gordon said:

"I am going away day after to-morrow, to be absent at least for several months, and I have come to ask a favor which you are too generous to deny. I want your ambrotype or photograph, and I hope you will give it to me without hesitation."

"I have never had a likeness of any kind taken."

"There is a good artist here; will you not go to-day and have one taken for me?"

"No, Mr. Leigh."

"Oh, Edna! Why not?"

"Because I do not wish you to think of remembering me. The sooner you forget me entirely, save as a mere friend, the happier we both shall be."

"But that is impossible. If you withhold your picture it will do no good, for I have your face here in my heart, and you cannot take that image from me."

"At least I will not encourage feelings which can bring only pain to me and disappointment to yourself. I consider it unprincipled and contemptible in a woman to foster or promote in any degree an affection which she knows she can never reciprocate. If I had fifty photographs I would not give you one. My dear friend, let the past be forgotten; it saddens me whenever I think of it, and is a barrier to all pleasant, friendly intercourse. Good-bye, Mr. Leigh. You have my best wishes on your journey."

"Will you not allow me to see you home?"

"I think it is best--I prefer that you should not. Mr. Leigh, promise me that you will struggle against this feeling which distresses me beyond expression."

She turned and put out her hand. He shook his head mournfully, and said as he left her:

"G.o.d bless you! It will be a dreary, dreary season with me till I return and see your face again. G.o.d preserve you till then!"

Walking rapidly homeward, Edna wondered why she could not return Gordon Leigh's affection--why his n.o.ble face never haunted her dreams instead of another's--of which she dreaded to think.

Looking rigorously into the past few weeks, she felt that long before she was aware of the fact, an image to which she refused homage must have stood between her heart and Gordon's.

When she reached home she inquired for Miss Harding, and was informed that she and Mrs. Murray had gone visiting with Mr.

Allston; had taken lunch, and would not return until late in the afternoon. Hagar told her that Mr. Murray had started at daylight to one of his plantations about twelve miles distant, and would not be back in time for dinner; and, rejoiced at the prospect of a quiet day, she determined to complete the chapter which she had left unfinished two night previous.

Needing a reference in the book which Mr. Murray had taken from the library, she went up to copy it; and as she sat down and opened the volume to find the pa.s.sage she required, a letter slipped out and fell at her feet. She glanced at the envelope as she picked it up, and her heart bounded painfully as she saw Mr. Murray's name written in Mr. Manning's peculiar and unmistakable chirography.

The postmark and date corresponded exactly with the one that she had received the night Mr. Murray gave her the roll of MS., and the strongest temptation of her life here a.s.sailed her. She would almost have given her right hand to know the contents of that letter, and Mr. Murray's confident a.s.sertion concerning the package was now fully explained. He had recognized the handwriting on her letters, and suspected her ambitious scheme. He was not a stranger to Mr.

Manning, and must have known the nature of their correspondence; consequently his taunt about a lover was entirely ironical.

She turned the unsealed envelope over and over longing to know what it contained.

The house was deserted--there was, she knew, no human being nearer than the kitchen, and no eye but G.o.d's upon her. She looked once more at the superscription of the letter, sighed, and put it back into the book without opening the envelope.