The Unseen Bridgegroom, May Agnes Fleming [ebook reader for surface pro .TXT] 📗

door ere the voice of Carl Walraven arrested him.

"This very unpleasant business, Mr. Ingelow--Sir Roger," he said, with evident embarrassment, "in which Mrs. Walraven is concerned--"

"Will be as though it had never been, Mr. Walraven," Hugh Ingelow said, gravely. "Once more--good-night."

He quitted the room.

Sir Roger Trajenna turned to follow, a sad, crushed old man.

Mollie shyly and wistfully held out her hand.

"Try and forget me, Sir Roger--try and forgive me. I have been a foolish, flighty girl; I am sorry for it. I can say no more."

"No more!" Sir Roger said, with emotion, kissing the little hand. "God bless you!"

He, too, was gone.

Then Mollie turned and put her arms round her guardian's neck.

"Dear old guardy, I am sorry for you. Oh, I wish you had never married that hateful Blanche Oleander, but lived free and happy with your mother and your Mollie. But it's too late now; you must forgive her, I suppose. I detest her like the mischief; but we must all keep the peace."

"I suppose so, Mollie," with a dreary sigh. "You can't wish I had never married more than I do. It's a righteous punishment upon me, I suppose. I've been the greatest villain unhung to the only woman who ever did love me, and now this is retribution."

He groaned dismally as he rose and kissed Mollie good-night.

"Go to your room, Mollie, and let us forget, if we can."

"Ah!" said Mollie, "if we can. Guardy, good-night."


CHAPTER XXV.

MIRIAM'S MESSAGE.

Next morning, at breakfast, Mrs. Walraven did not appear. She was very ill and feverish, her maid reported, and quite unable to leave her bed.

Mr. Carl Walraven heard this sad account of his wife's health with a grimly fixed countenance. He looked as though he had passed a restless night himself, and looked worn and haggard and hollow-eyed in the bright morning sunshine.

Mollie, on the other hand, was blooming and brilliant as the goddess Hebe. Past troubles sat lightly on buoyant Mollie as dew-drops on a rose. She looked rather anxiously at her guardian as the girl quitted the breakfast-room.

"You didn't mention Blanche's illness, guardy. Tea or chocolate this morning?"

"A cup of tea. I didn't mention her illness because I wasn't aware of it. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing Madame Blanche since we parted in the dining-room last night."

"Indeed!" said Mollie, stirring her chocolate slowly.

"And what's more," pursued the master of the house, "I don't care if I never see her again."

"Dear me, guardy! Strong language, isn't it?"

"It is truthful language, Mollie. Sleeping on a thing sometimes alters its complexion materially. Last evening I concluded to let things blow over and keep up appearances before the world. This morning I am resolved to let the world go hang, and teach one of the conspirators a lesson she won't forget in a hurry."

Mollie looked alarmed.

"Not a divorce, guardy? Surely not the public scandal of a divorce? All must come out then."

"Not quite a divorce," Mr. Walraven said, coolly; "its next-door neighbor. A quiet, gentlemanly, and lady-like separation."

"Guardy Walraven," said Miss Dane, solemnly, "don't do anything rash."

"I don't intend to. I've thought the matter well over. Didn't get a wink of sleep last night for it. We won't break our hearts"--with a cynical sneer--"myself nor my gentle Blanche. I don't know why we married, exactly. Certainly not for love, and we will part without a pang."

"Speak for yourself, guardy. I dare say Blanche will be frantic."

"Frantic at leaving a house on Fifth Avenue--frantic at leaving you mistress in her place--frantic that she can't be my blooming young widow--frantic at all that, I grant you."

"Guardy, don't be dreadful," adjured Mollie, pathetically. "If I can forgive Blanche, I'm sure you may."

"No, Mollie, I can not. She has deceived me basely, wickedly. More--I dare not."

"Dare not. Now, Mr. Walraven--"

"Hear me out, Mollie. A woman who would concoct such a villainous plot would stop at nothing. Abduction would be followed by murder. I would not trust her from henceforth on her Bible oath. My life is not safe while she remains in this house."

"Guardy! guardy! how can you say such horrible things? Commit murder? You know very well she would not dare."

"Wives dare it every week if the public journals speak the truth. I tell you I would not trust her. There is Guy Oleander, a toxicologist by profession--what more easy than for him to supply her with some subtle drug, and call it catalepsy, a congestion, a disease of the heart? I tell you, Mollie, after finding them out, my life would not be worth a fillip in their hands. I could as easily live with a female gorilla as with Blanche Oleander."

"Well," said Mollie, looking a little startled, "if you feel like that, of course--When do you propose--"

She paused.

"I shall lose no time. I shall see Mrs. Walraven immediately after breakfast."

"But she is ill."

"Bosh! She's shamming. She's afraid to show her wicked, plotting face. She's lying there to concoct some new villainy. I won't spare her--she didn't spare you. I'll send her packing, bag and baggage, before the week's out."

"And if she refuses to go, guardy?"

"Then," cried Mr. Walraven, with flashing eyes, "I'll make her go. I'll have a divorce, by Heaven! She'll find she can't commit high felonies in this enlightened age and go unpunished. I'd see her boiled alive before I'd ever live with her again."

With which spirited declaration Mr. Walraven finished his breakfast and arose. His first proceeding was to ring the bell violently. One of the kitchen damsels answered.

"Go to Mrs. Walraven's room and tell her Mr. Walraven is coming to see her."

The girl, looking rather surprised, hastened to obey.

Mr. Walraven took a turn or two up and down the room, "nursing his wrath to keep it warm."

"The more I think of this infernal business, Mollie," he burst out, "the more enraged I get. If Doctor Oleander was so madly in love with you that he carried you off to prevent your marrying any one else, one might find some excuse for him. Love, we all know, is a 'short-lived madness.' But for her, a woman, to invent that diabolical scheme in cold blood, simply because she hated you! Oh, it was the work of an accursed harridan, and never to be forgiven!"

He strode from the room as he spoke, his face and eyes aflame, and stalked straight to the sleeping-room of Mme. Blanche. One loud rap; then, before the attendant could open it he had flung it wide, and he was standing, stern as Rhadamauthus, above the cowering woman in the bed.

"Do you leave the room!" he exclaimed, turning savagely upon the girl; "and mind, no eavesdropping, if you have any regard for whole bones. Be off!"

The frightened girl scampered at once. Mr. Walraven closed the door, locked it, strode back, and stood glaring down upon his wife with folded arms and fiercely shining eyes.

"Well, madame?"

"Spare me, Carl." She held up her arms in dire affright. "Forgive me, my husband."

"Never!" thundered Carl Walraven--"never! you base, plotting Jezebel! The fate you allotted to Mollie Dane shall fall upon yourself. You shall quit this house before the week ends, never to return to it more."

"Carl! Husband--"

"Silence, madame! No husband of yours, either now or at any future time! This shall be our last interview. We part to-day to meet no more."

"Carl! Carl! for pity's sake, hear me."

"Not a word, not a syllable. All the excuses in the world would not excuse you. I never loved you--now I hate you. After this hour I never want to look upon your wicked white face again."

Blanche Walraven's spirit rose with the insult. She flung down the clothes and sat erect in bed, her black eyes flashing.

"Be it so! You never loved me less than I did you! You can not hate me more than I hate you! But, for all that, I won't go!"

"You shall go--and that within this week!"

"I tell you I won't! I dare you! Do your worst!"

"Do you, madame? Then, by Heaven, I accept your challenge! The law of divorce shall set me free from the vilest wife man ever was cursed with!"

She gave a gasping cry, her face ghastly white.

"Carl Walraven, you would not dare!"

"Would I not?" with a harsh laugh. "We shall see. You don't know what Carl Walraven is capable of yet, I see."

"Wait! wait! wait!" Blanche screamed after him, in mortal terror. "Tell me what you came here to propose."

"A separation, madame--quietly, without _éclat_ or public scandal. Accept or refuse, as you please."

"What are your terms?" sullenly.

"More liberal than you deserve. An annuity larger than anything you ever had before you married me, a house up the Hudson, and your promise never to return to New York. With my death, the annuity will cease, and you will be penniless. I don't choose to be put out of the way by you or your poisoning cousin."

Blanche Walraven's eyes flashed fury.

"You are a merciless, iron-hearted man, Carl Walraven, and I hate you! I close with your terms, because I can not help myself; but I'll have revenge yet!"

"And the very first attempt you make," said Mr. Walraven, coolly, "I'll hand you over to the law as I would the commonest vagrant that prowls the streets. Don't think to intimidate me, my lady, with your tragedy airs and fiery glances. Mr. Sardonyx will wait upon you this afternoon. If you can make it convenient to leave to-morrow, you will very much oblige me."

His last words were almost lost. Mrs. Walraven, with a hysterical scream, had fallen back among the pillows in strong convulsions. He just stopped to give one backward glance of pitiless loathing, then rang for her maid and left the room.

And so parted the ill-assorted husband and wife to meet no more. So ended one mercenary marriage.

Carl Walraven went down-stairs, and found Mollie uneasily awaiting him.

"It's all settled, Mollie," he said. "You are the little mistress of the house from this day forward, until"--looking at her earnestly--"you get married."

Mollie reddened and shook her head.

"I shall never get married, guardy."

"No? Not even to Hugh Ingelow?"

"Least of all to Hugh Ingelow. Don't let us talk about it, guardy. What did Mrs. Walraven say?"

"More than I care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk about Mrs. Walraven, either."

"But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?"

"I really and truly am. She goes to-morrow. Now, Mollie Dane, there's no need for you to wear that pleading face. She goes--that's flat! I wouldn't live in the same house with her now for a kingdom. If you say another word about it we'll quarrel."

He strode off like a sulky lion, and Mollie, feeling as though it were all her fault, was left disconsolate and uncomfortable enough.

"I had rather they had made it up," she thought. "I don't want to be the cause of parting man and wife. She behaved atrociously, no doubt, and deserves punishment; but I wish the punishment had fallen on the man, not the woman. It's a shame to make her