The Sword of Damocles Part 53

"Did you read the letter I left for you in my desk up stairs?"

She put her hand to her bosom and drew forth the closely written sheet.

"Every word," she responded, and smilingly returned it to its place.

He started and his chest heaved pa.s.sionately. "You have read it," he cried, "and yet could follow me into that den of unknown dangers at an hour like this, and with no other guide than Bertram?"

"Yes," she answered.

He drew a deep breath and his brow lost its deepest shadow. "You do not despise me then," he exclaimed "My sin has not utterly blotted me out of your regard?"

The glance with which she replied seemed to fill the whole room with its radiance. "I am only beginning to realize the worth of the man who has. .h.i.therto been a mystery to me," she declared. Then as he shook his head, added with a serious air, "The question with all true hearts must ever be, not what a man has been, but what he is. He who for the sake of s.h.i.+elding the innocent from shame and sorrow, would have taken upon himself the onus of a past disgrace, is not unworthy a woman's devotion."

Mr. Sylvester smiled mournfully, and stroked her hand which he had taken in his. "Poor little one," he murmured. "I know not whether to feel proud or sorry for your trust and tender devotion. It would have been a great and unspeakable grief to me to have lost your regard, but it might have been better if I had; it might have been much better for you if I had!"

"What, why do you say that?" she asked, with a startled gleam in her eye. "Do you think I am so eager for ease and enjoyment, that it will be a burden for me to bear the pain of those I love? A past pain, too," she added, "that will grow less and less as the days go by and happiness increases."

He put her back with a quick hand. "Do not make it any harder for me than necessary," he entreated, "Do you not see that however gentle may be your judgment of my deserts, we can never marry, Paula?"

The eyes which were fixed on his, deepened pa.s.sionately. "No," she whispered, "no; not if your remorse for the past is all that separates us. The man who has conquered himself, has won the right to conquer the heart of a woman. I can say no more--" She timidly held out her hand.

He grasped it with a man's impetuosity and pressed it to his heart, but he did not retain it. "Blessings upon you, dear and n.o.ble heart!" he cried. "G.o.d will hear my prayers and make you happy--but not with me.

Paula," he pa.s.sionately continued, taking her in his arms and holding her to his breast, "it cannot be. I love you--I will not, dare not say, how much--but love is no excuse for wronging you. My remorse is not all that separates us; possible disgrace lies before me; public exposure at all events; I would indeed be lacking in honor were I to subject you to these."

"But," she stammered, drawing back to look into his face, "I thought that was all over; that the man had promised silence; that you were henceforth to be relieved from his persecutions? I am sure he said so."

"He did, but he forgot that my fate no longer rested upon his forbearance. The letter which records my admission of sin was in his lawyer's hands, Paula, and has already been despatched to Mr.

Stuyvesant. Say what we will, rebel against it as we will, Cicely's father knows by this time that the name of Sylvester is not spotless."

The cry which she uttered in her sudden pain and loss made him stoop over her with despairing fondness. "Hus.h.!.+ my darling, hus.h.!.+" cried he.

"The trial is so heavy, I need all my strength to meet it. It breaks my heart to see you grieve. I cannot bear it. I deserve my fate, but you--Oh you--what have you done that you should be overwhelmed in my fall!" Putting her gently away from his breast, he drew himself up and with forced calmness said, "I have yet to inform Mr. Stuyvesant upon which of the Sylvesters' should rest the shadow of his distrust.

To-night he believes in Bertram's lack of principle, but to-morrow--"

Her trembling lips echoed the word.

"He shall know that the man who confessed to having done a wrong deed in the past, is myself, Paula."

The head which had fallen on her breast, rose as at the call of a clarion. "And is it at the n.o.blest moment of your life that you would shut me away from your side? No, no. Heaven does not send us a great and mighty love for trivial purposes. The simple country maid whom you have sometimes declared was as the bringer of good news to you, shall not fail you now." Then slowly and with solemn a.s.surance, "If you go to Mr.

Stuyvesant's to-morrow, and you will, for that is your duty, you shall not go alone; Paula Fairchild accompanies you."

XLIV.

IN MR. STUYVESANT'S PARLORS.

"Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?"

--COMUS.

"Unworthy?"

"Yes."

Cicely stared at her father with wide-open and incredulous eyes. "I cannot believe it," she murmured; "no, I cannot believe it."

Her father drew up a chair to her side. "My daughter," said he, with unusual tenderness, "I have hesitated to tell you this, fearing to wound you; but my discretion will allow me to keep silence no longer. Bertram Sylvester is not an honest man, and the sooner you make up your mind to forget him, the better."

"Not honest?" You would scarcely have recognized Cicely's voice. Her father's hand trembled as he drew her back to his side.

"It is a hard revelation for me to make to you, after testifying my approval of the young man. I sympathize with you, my child, but none the less I expect you to meet this disappointment bravely. A theft has been committed in our bank--"

"You do not accuse him of theft! Oh father, father!"

"No," he stammered. "I do not accuse him, but facts look very strongly against some one in our trust, and--"

"But that is not sufficient," she cried, rising in spite of his detaining hand till she stood erect before him. "You surely would not allow any mere circ.u.mstantial evidence to stand against a character as unblemished as his, even if he were not the man whom your daughter--"

He would not let her continue. "I admit that I should be careful how I breathed suspicion against a man whose record was unimpeached," he a.s.sented, "but Bertram Sylvester does not enjoy that position. Indeed, I have just received a communication which goes to show, that he once actually acknowledged to having perpetrated an act of questionable integrity. Now a man as young as he, who--"

"But I cannot believe it," she moaned. "It is impossible, clearly impossible. How could he look me in the face with such a sin on his conscience! He could not, simply could not. Why, father, his brow is as open as the day, his glance clear and unwavering as the sunlight. It is some dreadful mistake. It is not Bertram of whom you are speaking!"

Her father sighed. "Of whom else should it be? Come my child, do you want to read the communication which I received last night? Do you want to be convinced?"

"No, no;" she cried; but quickly contradicted herself with a hurried, "Yes, yes, let me be made acquainted with what there is against him, if only that I may prove to you it is all a mistake."

"There is no mistake," he muttered, handing her a folded paper. "This statement was written two years ago; I witnessed it myself, though I little knew against whose honor it was directed. Read it, Cicely, and then remember that I have lost bonds out of my box at the bank, that could only have been taken by some one connected with the inst.i.tution."

She took the paper in her hand, and eagerly read it through. Suddenly she started and looked up. "And you say that this was Bertram, this gentleman who allowed another man to accuse him of a past dishonesty?"

"So the person declares who forwarded me this statement; and though he is a poor wretch and evidently not above making mischief, I do not know as we have any special reason to doubt his word."

Cicely's eyes fell and she stood before her father with an air of indecision. "I do not think it was Bertram," she faltered, but said no more.

"I would to G.o.d for your sake, it was not!" he exclaimed. "But this communication together with the loss we have sustained at the bank, has shaken my faith, Cicely. Young men are so easily led astray nowadays; especially when playing for high stakes. A man who could leave his profession for the sake of winning a great heiress--"

"Father!"

"I know he has made you think it was for love; but when the woman whom a young man fancies, is rich, love and ambition run too closely together to be easily disentangled. And now, my dear, I have said my say and leave you to act according to the dictates of your judgment, sure that it will be in a direction worthy of your name and breeding." And stooping for a hasty kiss, he gave her a last fond look and quietly left the room.

And Cicely? For a moment she stood as if frozen in her place, then a great tremble seized her, and sinking down upon a sofa, she buried her face from sight, in a chaos of feeling that left her scarcely mistress of herself. But suddenly she started up, her face flushed, her eyes gleaming, her whole delicate form quivering with an emotion more akin to hope than despair.

"I cannot doubt him," she whispered; "it were as easy to doubt my own soul. He is worthy if I am worthy, true if I am true; and I will not try to unlove him!"

But soon the reaction came again, and she was about to give full sway to her grief and shame, when the parlor door opened--she herself was sitting in the extension room--and she saw Mr. Sylvester and Paula come in. She at once rose to her feet; but she did not advance. A thousand hopes and fears held her enchained where she was; besides there was something in the aspect of her friends, which made her feel as though a welcome even from her, would at that moment be an intrusion.

"They have come to see father," she thought "and--"