The Story of Antony Grace Part 73

He raised his fist, and I believe that he would have struck me, but just then his hand fell to his side, and his lips seemed to turn blue as he stared straight over my shoulder, and turning hastily, I saw Miriam Carr standing white and stern in the doorway, dressed ready for the concert.

"Ah, Miriam," he exclaimed, recovering himself; and he forced a smile to his lips; "Grace and I were engaged in a dispute."

She did not answer him, but turned to me. "Antony," she said sternly, "repeat those words you just said."

"No, no; mere nonsense," exclaimed John Lister playfully. "It was nothing--nothing at all."

"Repeat those words, Antony Grace," cried Miss Carr, without seeming to heed him: and she came towards where I stood, while I felt as if I would gladly have sunk through the floor.

For a few moments I hesitated, then a feeling of strength seemed to come to me, and I looked up at her firmly as I said:

"Don't ask me, Miss Carr! I cannot tell."

"Antony!" she exclaimed.

"My dear Miriam--" began John Lister; but she turned from him.

"Antony," she cried imperiously, and her handsome eyes flashed as she stamped her foot; "I insist upon knowing the meaning of those words."

I was silent.

"It was nothing, my dear Miriam," exclaimed John Lister. Then in a low voice to me, "Go: I'll cover your retreat."

Go, and run off like a coward? No; that I felt I could not do, and I looked indignantly at him.

"If you value my friends.h.i.+p, Antony," cried Miss Carr, "tell me, I insist, what you meant by that accusation of Mr Lister."

"I do--I do value your friends.h.i.+p, Miss Carr," I cried pa.s.sionately, "but don't, pray don't ask me. I cannot--I will not tell."

"I command you to tell me," she cried: and to my young eyes she looked queen-like in her beauty, as she seemed to compel me to obey.

Mature thought tells me that she must indeed have seemed even majestic in her bearing, for John Lister looked pale and haggard, and I saw him again and again moisten his dry lips and essay to speak.

"I cannot tell you," I said; "Miss Carr, pray do not ask me!" I cried piteously.

"Tell me this instant, or leave my house, ungrateful boy!" she exclaimed pa.s.sionately; and, casting an imploring look at her, I saw that she was pointing towards the door.

I would have given the world to have obeyed her; but there seemed to be something so cowardly, so mean and despicable, in standing there and accusing John Lister before the face of his affianced wife, that, with a piteous look, I slowly turned towards the door.

It was terrible to me to be driven away like that, and I felt my heart swell with bitterness; but I could not speak, and as I once more looked in her pitiless eyes, she was still pointing at the door.

The handle was already in my hand, and, giddy and despairing, I should have gone, had not Miriam Carr's clear voice rang out loudly:

"Stop!"

Then, as I turned:

"Come here, Antony!" and the pointing finger was there no longer, but two extended hands, which I ran across the room and seized, struggling hard to keep back the emotion that was striving for exit, for I was but a boy.

"My dear Miriam--" began John Lister once more.

"Mr Lister," she said, and her voice was very low and stern, as she placed one arm round my waist and laid her right hand upon my shoulder, "will you have the goodness to leave my house?"

"My dear Miriam, pray be reasonable!" he exclaimed. "That foolish boy has got some crotchet into his head. It is all a silly blunder, which I can explain in a few words. I a.s.sure you it is all a mistake."

"If it is a mistake, Mr Lister, you have nothing to mind; I now wish to be alone."

"But, Miriam, dearest Miriam, grant me a few minutes' conversation. I a.s.sure you I can set myself right in your eyes."

"If it is all a mistake, Mr Lister, why did you threaten Antony Grace, if he dared to tell me the words I heard?"

"Because I was angry with him for making such a blunder, and I feared that it would upset you. Let me speak to you alone. Miriam, dear Miriam, you force me to speak to you like this before Antony Grace. I tell you," he cried, desperately trying to catch her hand, "I swear to you--what he said is a tissue of lies."

"And I tell you," she cried scornfully, "that Antony Grace never told an untruth in his life. Mr Lister, I am a woman, and unprotected. I ask you now to leave my house."

"I cannot leave you with that boy, and no opportunity for defending myself. I must have a counsellor."

"You shall have one, John Lister," she said in a low, dull voice. "I will be your counsellor when he accuses you."

"Heaven bless you?" he exclaimed excitedly. "Your loving heart will take my part."

"My womanly duty, John Lister, and my plighted faith will join to defend you from this grave charge."

"Let me stay and plead my own cause, dearest Miriam," he cried, stretching out his hands and fixing his eyes upon hers; but her look was cold, stern, and pitiless, and for answer she pointed to the door.

He made another appeal, but she seemed to be absolute, to master him, and at last, trembling, white with pa.s.sion and disappointment, he turned and left the room, shrinking from that stern, pointing finger, and half-staggering down the stairs. I heard him hurry across the hall, and the door closed so loudly that the house seemed to be filled with echoes, while his steps were perfectly audible as he strode along the street.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

I AM FORGIVEN.

"Oh, Miss Carr," I cried at last, as I broke the painful silence, "what have I done?"

She did not answer for some moments. Then, leading me to the couch, she threw off her opera-cloak, and sat looking at me for a few moments before pa.s.sing her hand across my forehead to brush aside the hair, and kissing me on the brow.

"What have you done, Antony? Shown me that I was not mistaken in you when I thought you all that was honest and true."

I could not speak; only sat gazing at her face as she fought hard to conquer her agitation.

"Ring the bell, Antony," she said at last. "You must bear with me to-night, and not be disappointed. Do not let James enter the room, but meet him on the landing, and say that I shall not want the carriage."

I hastened to obey her, and then I returned, to stand before her, anxious and sick at heart; but she pointed to the seat at her side.

"Antony," she said, after some time had elapsed, "why did you not tell me this--this piteous story at once? Was I not worthy of your confidence?"

"Yes, yes," I said; "but how could I tell you? I dared not."