Mabel's Mistake Part 60

"But why did you send for me?" questioned Agnes, gently. "Is it that you wish to go back?"

"Go back!" cried the poor girl, starting up with a flush of wild delight that faded away in an instant; "oh why did you say this cruel thing? It is too late--it is impossible; I can never go back, never, never, never!"

Lina fell back upon her pillows, and began to moan piteously, but made a brave attempt to stifle her sobs on the pillow.

"No, no, I did not send to you with that hope, only it was so hard to sit in this room day after day and hear nothing--not even that they hated me. I think that would have been better than this dull uncertainty. I only wanted to hear just one little word; my poor heart has asked for it so long, and now you tell me nothing."

"What can I tell you except that your flight has filled the whole household with grief and consternation."

"I knew it--I was sure they would feel the gloom, but that was better than remaining a curse and a shame to them all, you know."

"A curse and a shame, Miss French!" said Agnes, with dignity; "these are harsh words applied to one's-self. I hope you do not deserve them."

"Did I say shame?" cried Lina, starting up in affright; "well, well, if I did, it cannot reach him or wound poor mamma; as for me, why, it is not much matter, you know; the world does not care what becomes of a poor little girl like me."

A shade of compa.s.sion stole over Agnes Barker's face. She took Lina's hand in hers, and pressed it softly to her lips.

"You look grieved. I hope it is for me," said the gentle girl, and her eyes filled with tears. "It won't hurt you or any one to be sorry for a poor child who is so very, very miserable."

Ralph would endure this touching scene no longer; he started up and rushed towards the bed, with both trembling hands extended, and his chest heaving with emotion.

"Lina, Lina!" he cried, falling on his knees by the bed. "Stop, Lina, you are killing me--oh, girl, girl, what had I done that you should bring this ruin on us both?"

Lina uttered a wild cry at his approach, half rose in the bed with her arms outstretched, and flung herself upon his bosom, covering his hands, his face and his hair with kisses, then as if struck to the soul with a sudden memory, her arms fell away, her lips grew deadly white, and she sunk back to the pillows, shuddering from head to foot.

"Lina, Lina, say that you love me yet--in the name of heaven tell me what this means--never before have you seemed to love me entirely, and now"----

"Now," she said, rising feebly to a sitting posture, "now sweep those kisses away, sweep them utterly away, I charge you--there is shame and sin in every one; would that my lips had been withered before they gave such kisses, and to you, Ralph Harrington!"

"Lina, Lina French, is this real?" cried the young man, rising slowly to his feet, pale as death, but checking the tears that had at first rushed tenderly to his eyes. "May the G.o.d of heaven forgive you and help me, for I had rather die than meet the pang of this moment."

"I know, I know it is dreadful--see what it has done!"

She lifted up her pale hand that had fallen away till it looked almost transparent, like that of a sick child, and held it trembling towards him. Then she besought him, with mournful entreaty, to go away, for her heart had ceased to beat. She wanted time for prayer before the death-pang came.

There was a depth of despondency in her voice, and an utter hopelessness of speech that touched every kind feeling in the young man's heart.

"No, Lina, I will not leave you in this unhappy condition," he said; "your words have shocked me beyond everything; nothing but your own avowal would have convinced me that one so good as you were, Lina, could have--have--oh! Lina, Lina, this is terrible."

"I know it," she answered faintly, "I know it, but we must be patient."

"Patient!" exclaimed the young man, "but if I can be nothing else, one thing is certain, I have the right of a wronged, outraged brother to protect you, this specious hypocrite shall answer for the ruin he has brought upon us all!"

Lina started up wildly, "Ralph, Ralph, of whom are you speaking?"

"Of the man who has wronged you, Lina--who has disgraced the name of Harrington, and who, so help me G.o.d! shall yet render you such justice as the case permits."

Lina gasped for breath, "you know it then--who told you, not my--not him?"

"No one told me, Lina: he is not so base as to boast of the ruin he has made; heaven forbid that one who has a drop of my blood in his veins should sink low enough for that; but the facts, your presence here, this cruel desertion of your friends, the insane tenacity with which you cling to this miserable fate--is it not enough?"

"Then he knows nothing--oh! thank G.o.d for that," gasped Lina, with a faint hysterical laugh.

"I know enough to justify me in demanding an explanation, and avenging you after it is made," said Ralph, sternly.

"No, not that, I charge you, Ralph Harrington, not to ask this explanation of any one. It will only deepen and widen the ruin that has so far fallen on me alone--promise me, Ralph, promise me, if you would not have me die before your eyes!"

CHAPTER LXIX.

AGNES BECOMES PATHETIC.

Ralph took Lina's hand and spoke to her in a sad broken voice, "On one condition, Lina; go home with me now--my mother will receive you joyfully. This miserable absence has not been made public. Take back the protection you have abandoned. I will not ask your confidence, only be honest and truthful with my mother. She loves you. She is forgiving as the angels. Her beautiful virtues will redeem you, Lina. She is too magnanimous for severity, too pure for cowardly hesitation"----

Lina began to weep on her pillow, till the pale hands with which she covered her face, were wet with tears.

"Oh! she is good--she is an angel of love and mercy; but this is why it is impossible for me to go back--don't ask me, oh! Ralph, Ralph, you are killing me with this kindness. Go away, go away! perhaps G.o.d will let me die, and then all will be right."

"Lina, this is infatuation; you _shall_ return home with me; have no fear of my presence; in a week after you accept the shelter of my father's roof, again I go away."

For an instant Lina brightened up, then a still more mournful expression came to her eyes, quenching the gleam of yearning hope, and she shook her head with a gesture of total despondency. "Don't, don't, my heart is breaking. I could tell her nothing; _he_ has forbidden it."

"_He!_" repeated the young man, furiously, "great heavens, can you plead such authority, and to me?"

"Forgive me, oh, forgive me; I am so feeble, so miserably helpless, words escape me when I do not know it. Do not bring them up against me.

Oh, Ralph, I am very unhappy. The lonesomeness was killing me, and now you have come upon me unawares, to turn that dull anguish into torture.

How could you ask me to go home? it was cruel--ah, me, how cruel!"

"What can I do, how shall I act?" cried Ralph, appealing to Agnes Barker, who stood earnestly regarding the scene.

"Leave her at present," said the girl, softly smoothing Lina's tresses with her hand. "Reflection may induce her to accept your n.o.ble offer; certainly, at present, she is too ill for any attempt at a removal."

"I will consult my mother," said Ralph, looking mournfully down upon the unhappy girl, whose eyelids began to quiver from the weight of tears that pressed against them, when he spoke of her benefactress; "Lina, promise me not to leave this place till I have consulted with her."

Again Lina struggled for energy to speak, but her voice only reached him in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Ralph, don't; please never mention me to mamma, it can only do harm--promise this, Ralph. I cannot plead, I cannot weep, but if this is my last breath it prays you not to mention that you saw me, to your mother."

Ralph hesitated till he saw Lina's eyes, that were fixed imploringly upon him, closing with a deathly slowness, while her face became as pallid as the linen on which it rested.

"Lina, Lina, I promise anything, only do not turn so white!" he exclaimed, terrified by her stillness.

She opened her eyes quickly, and tried to smile, but the effort died out in a faint quiver of the lips. She was too much exhausted even for weeping.

"Come," said Agnes, laying her hand on the young man's arm; "this excitement will do her more injury than you dream of. Go down stairs a little while, and wait for me there."