“A what?” he demanded, excitedly.
“An innocent, one bereft of reason,” stammered
Lillian, entirely forgetting herself in her interest
for him.
“Of whom do you speak?” asked Paul, looking
utterly bewildered,
“Of poor Helen.”
“Good heavens, who told you that base lie?”
And his voice deepened with indignant pain.
“I saw her, you did not deny her affliction;
Hester said so, and I believed it. Have I wronged
her, Paul?”
“Yes, cruelly. She is blind, but no idiot,
thank God.”
There was such earnestness in his voice, such reproach
in his words, and such ardor in his eye, that Lillian’s
pride gave way, and with a broken entreaty for pardon,
she covered up her face, weeping the bitterest tears
she ever shed. For in that moment, and the sharp
pang it brought her, she felt how much she loved Paul
and how hard it was to lose him. The childish
affection had blossomed into a woman’s passion,
and in a few short weeks had passed through many phases
of jealousy, hope, despair, and self-delusion.
The joy she felt on seeing him again, the pride she
took in him, the disgust Helen caused her, the relief
she had not dared to own even to herself, when she
fancied fate had put an insurmountable barrier between
Paul and his cousin, the despair at finding it only
a fancy, and the anguish of hearing him declare his
unshaken purpose to marry his first love—all
these conflicting emotions had led to this hard moment,
and now self-control deserted her in her need.
In spite of her efforts the passionate tears would
have their way, though Paul soothed her with assurances
of entire forgiveness, promises of Helen’s friendship,
and every gentle device he could imagine. She
commanded herself at last by a strong effort, murmuring
eagerly as she shrank from the hand that put back
her fallen hair, and the face so full of tender sympathy
bending over her:
“I am so grieved and ashamed at what I have
said and done. I shall never dare to see Helen.
Forgive me, and forget this folly. I’m sad
and heavyhearted just now; it’s the anniversary
of Papa’s death, and Mamma always suffers so
much at such times that I get nervous.”
“It is your birthday also. I remembered
it, and ventured to bring a little token in return
for the one you gave me long ago. This is a talisman,
and tomorrow I will tell you the legend concerning
it. Wear it for my sake, and God bless you, dear.”
The last words were whispered hurriedly; Lillian saw
the glitter of an antique ring, felt the touch of
bearded lips on her hand, and Paul was gone.
But as he left the house he set his teeth, exclaiming
low to himself, “Yes, tomorrow there shall be
an end of this! We must risk everything and abide
the consequences now. I’ll have no more
torment for any of us.”
THE SECRET KEY
“Is Lady Trevlyn at home, Bedford?” asked
Paul, as he presented himself at an early hour next
day, wearing the keen, stern expression which made
him look ten years older than he was.
