The Fatal Glove Part 18

Trevlyn House, the fine old residence of the late John Trevlyn, was closed. Only the old butler and his wife remained in a back-wing, to air the rooms occasionally, and keep the moths out of the upholstery. For some reasons, unexplained even to himself, Archer never took his wife there. Perhaps the quiet room too forcibly reminded him of the woman he had loved and lost.

Alexandrine's ambition was satisfied. At last, she was the wife of the man whose love and admiration she had coveted since her first acquaintance with him. From her heart she believed him guilty of the murder of Paul Linmere; but in spite of it, she had married him. She loved him intensely enough to pardon even that heinous crime.

Her husband's admiration Alexandrine possessed, but she soon came to realize that he had told her the truth, when he said his heart was buried too deep to know a resurrection. He was kind to her--very gentle, and kind, and generous--for it was not in Archer Trevlyn's nature to be unkind to anything--and he felt that he owed her all respect and attention, in return for her love. Her every wish was gratified. Horses, carriages, servants, dress, jewelry--everything that money could purchase--waited her command, but not what she craved more than all--_his love_.

He never kissed her, never took her hands in his, or held her to him when he said good-by, as he frequently did, for several days' absence on matters of business. He never called her Alexandrine--it was always Mrs.

Trevlyn; and through the long winter evenings, when they were not at some ball or party, and sat by their splendid fireside, he never put his head in her lap, and let her soft fingers caress his hair, as she had seen other husbands do.

In September, Louis Castrani again appeared in New York society. His appearance revived the old story of his devotion to Margaret Harrison, and people began to wonder why she staid away from home so long.

As soon as he heard of Castrani's arrival, Archer Trevlyn sought him out.

He felt that he had a right to know if his suspicions touching Margie were correct.

Castrani received him coldly but courteously. Trevlyn was not to be repelled, but went to the point at once.

"Mr. Castrani," he said, "I believe I have to deal with a man of honor, and I trust that you will do me the favor of answering the questions I may ask, frankly."

"I shall be happy to answer any inquiries which Mr. Trevlyn may propound, provided they are not impertinent," replied Castrani, haughtily.

Trevlyn hesitated. He dreaded to have his suspicions confirmed, and he feared that if this man spoke the truth, such would be the case.

"I am listening, Mr. Trevlyn," remarked Castrani.

"Excuse me. In order to make you understand my position, I must beg you to indulge me in a little retrospection. You are, doubtless, aware that at one time I was engaged to Miss Margaret Harrison?"

"Such was the rumor, sir."

"It was correct. I loved her deeply, fondly, with my whole soul--just as I love her still--in spite of all."

"Mr. Trevlyn," said Castrani, with cold reproof in his voice, "you have a wife."

"I am aware of it, but that does not change my feelings. I have tried to kill all regard for Margaret Harrison, but it is impossible. I can control it, but I cannot make it die. My wife knows it all--I told her freely--and knowing it, she was willing to bear my name. For some reason, unknown to me, unexplained by Margaret, she cast me off. I had seen her only the day before the fatal note reached me--had held her in my arms, and felt her kiss upon my lips." He stopped, controlling his emotion, and went on resolutely. "The next day I received a letter, from her--a brief, cold, almost scornful letter. She renounced me utterly--she would never meet me again, but as a stranger. She need make no explanation, she said; my own conscience would tell me why she could no longer be anything to me. As if I had committed some crime. I should have sought her, from one end of the earth to the other, and won from her an explanation of her rejection, had it not been for the force of circ.u.mstances, which revealed to me that she left for the North, in the early express--with you--or equivalent to that. She entered the train at the same time, and you were both in the same car. That fact, coupled with your well-known devotion to her, and her renunciation of me, satisfied me that she had fled from me, to the arms of--another lover!"

"Villain!" cried Castrani, starting from his chair his face scarlet with indignation. "If it were not a disgrace to use violence upon a guest, I would thrash you soundly! You loved Margaret Harrison, and yet believed that d.a.m.nable falsehood of her! Out upon such love! She is, and was, as pure as the angels! Yes, you say truly, I was devoted to her. I would have given my life--yea, my soul's salvation, for her love! But she never cared for me. I never enticed her to do evil--I would not, if I could, and I could not, if I would! Who repeated this vile slander? Show him to me, and by Heaven, his blood shall wipe out the stain!"

All Trevlyn's pride and pa.s.sion left him. His face lost its rigid tenseness, his eyes grew moist. He forgave Castrani's insults, because he told him Margaret was pure. He put out his hands, and grasped those of his companion.

"O, sir," he said, "I thank you--I thank you! You have made me as happy as it is now possible for me to become. It is like going back to heaven, after a long absence, to know that she was pure--that I was not deceived in her. O Margie! Margie! my wronged Margie! G.o.d forgive me for indulging such a thought of you!"

Castrani's hard face softened a little, as he witnessed the utter abandonment of the proud man before him.

"You may well ask G.o.d to forgive you," he said. "You deserve the depths of perdition for harboring in your heart a thought against the purity of that woman. Archer Trevlyn, had she loved me as she did you, I would have cut off my right hand before I would have entertained a suspicion of sin in her! It is true, she went North on the same train as I did, but I did not know it until the journey was ended. Previous to that time, I had not seen her for more than a fortnight, and I did not know that she was near me, until in Boston my attention was attracted by a crowd of 'roughs,'

gathered around a lady and a greyhound. The lady had lost her _porte-monnaie_, and the crowd made some insulting remarks which I took the liberty of resenting, and when I saw the lady's face, to my amazement I recognized Margaret Harrison!"

"And you protected her? You gave her money and took her to a place of safety?" said Trevlyn, anxiously.

"Of course. As I should have done by any other lady--but more especially for her. I took her to a hotel, and on the morrow saw her start on her journey. I would have gone on with her, but she declined my escort."

"O, I thank you--I thank you, so much! I shall be your friend always, for that. You will tell me where she is?"

"No. I cannot."

"Cannot. Does that imply that you will not?"

"It does."

"Then you know her present place of sojourn?"

"I do. But she does not desire the knowledge to become general. I have pledged my word to her not to reveal it. Neither is it best for you to know."

"You are right. It is not. I might be unable to hinder myself from seeking her. And that could do no good. I know that she is innocent. That shall suffice me. Only tell me she is well, and agreeably situated."

"She is both. More, I think she is at peace. She is with those who love her."

"I thank you for bearing with me. I shall be happier for knowing she was not false to me. Whatever might have caused her to break the engagement, it was not because she loved another. Good-by, Mr. Castrani."

He wrung the hand of the Cuban warmly, and departed.

It was an afternoon in May. Everything without was smiling and at rest, but Mrs. Trevlyn was cross and out of humor. Perhaps any lady will say that she had sufficient reason. Everything had gone wrong. The cook was sick, and the dinner a failure; her dressmaker had disappointed her in not finis.h.i.+ng her dress for the great ball at Mrs. Fitz Noodle's, that evening; and Annie, her maid, was down with one of her nervous headaches, and she would be obliged to send for a hair-dresser.

Louis Castrani was a guest in the house, by Archer's invitation--for the two gentlemen had become friends, warmly and deeply attached to each other, and Mrs. Trevlyn could not help fretting over the unfortunate condition of her _cuisine_.

She was looking very cross, as she sat in the back parlor, adjoining the tasteful little morning-room, where she spent most of her time, and where the gentlemen were in the habit of taking their books and newspapers when they desired it quiet. If she had known that Mr. Castrani was at that moment lying on the lounge in the morning-room, the door of which was slightly ajar, she might have dismissed that unbecoming frown, and put her troubles aside. Mr. Trevlyn entered, just as she had for the twentieth time that day arrived at the conclusion that she was the most sorely afflicted woman in the world, and his first words did not tend to give her any consolation.

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Trevlyn, that I am to be deprived of the privilege of attending the ball to-night. It is particularly annoying."

"What do you mean, Mr. Trevlyn?"

"I am obliged to go to Philadelphia on important business, and must leave in this evening's train. I did not know of the necessity until a few hours ago."

Mrs. Trevlyn was just in the state to be wrought upon by trifles.

"Always business," she exclaimed, pettishly. "I am sick of the word."

"Business before pleasure, Mrs. Trevlyn. But, really this is an important affair. It is connected with the house of Renshaw and Selwyn, which went under last week. The firm were under large obligations to--"

"Don't talk business to me, Mr. Trevlyn. I do not understand such things--neither do I desire to. I only hope it _is_ business you are going for!"

Mr. Trevlyn looked at her in some surprise.

"You only hope it _is_ business?" he said, inquiringly. "I do not comprehend."

"I might have said that I hoped it was not a woman who called you from your wife!"

The moment the words were spoken she repented their utterance, but the mischief was already done.

"Mrs. Trevlyn, I shall request you to unsay the insinuation conveyed in your words. They are unworthy of you and a shame to me."