Sharing Her Crime: A Novel

by May Agnes Fleming

  CHAPTER XXV.

  ARCHIE'S LOST LOVE.

  "Be it so! we part forever-- Let the past as nothing be; Had I only loved thee, never Hadst thou been thus dear to me.

  "More than woman thou wast to me-- Not as man I looked on thee; Why, like woman, then, undo me? Why heap man's worst curse on me?"--BYRON.

  It was the evening of Gipsy's wedding-day--a wet, chilly, disagreeableevening, giving promise of a stormy, tempestuous night--fit weather forsuch a bridal!

  Lights were already gleaming in the cottages of the villagers, and thelarge parlor of the "Inn of St. Mark's" was crowded--every onediscussing the surprising wedding up at the Hall, and wondering whatMiss Gipsy would do next--when, as James says, "a solitary horsemanmight have been seen," riding at a break-neck pace toward Deep Dale. Thehouse looked dreary, dark, and dismal--unlighted save by the glare fromone window. Unheeding this, the "solitary horseman" alighted, and givinghis horse to the care of the servant, ran up the stairs andunceremoniously burst into the parlor, where Minnette Wiseman satreading alone. All her father's entreaties and commands to be present athis wedding were unheeded. She had heard the news of his approachingmarriage with the utmost coolness--a stare of surprise from her brightblack eyes being the only outward emotion it caused.

  "Why should I go to see you married?" was her impatient reply to hisstern commands. "I care nothing for Gipsy Gower, nor she for me. You canbe married just as well without me. I won't go!"

  Therefore she sat quietly reading at home while the nuptial revelry wasat its height in Sunset Hall, and looked up, with an exclamation ofsurprise, to see our traveler standing before her.

  "Archie! what in the world brought _you_ here?" she exclaimed, rising,and placing a chair for him before the fire.

  "Rail-cars part of the way, steamer next, and, finally, my horse."

  "Don't be absurd. Why have you come to Saint Mark's? No one expected youhere these three months."

  "Know it, coz. But I've found out I am the luckiest dog in creation, andran down here to tell you and _another_ particular friend I have. Isuppose you have heard of Uncle John Rivers, my father's brother. Yes!Well, about four months ago he returned from Europe, with one hundredand fifty thousand dollars and the consumption. Though he never had thehonor of my acquaintance, he knew there existed so distinguished anindividual, and accordingly left the whole of his property to me; and afew weeks after, gave up the ghost. You see, therefore, Minnette, I'm arich man. I've pitched law to its patron saint, the--hem!--and startedoff down here post-haste to marry a certain little girl in thesediggin's, and take her with me to see the sights in Europe."

  "My dear cousin, I congratulate you. I presume Miss Pearl is to be theyoung lady of your choice."

  "No; Celeste is too much of an angel for such a hot-headed scamp as Iam. I mean another little girl, whom I've long had a _penchant_ for. Butwhere's your father?"

  Minnette laughed sarcastically.

  "Getting married, I presume. This night my worthy parent follows theScriptural injunction, and takes unto himself a wife."

  "Nonsense, Minnette!--you jest."

  "Do I?" said Minnette, quietly. "I thought you knew me well enough now,Archie, to know I never jest."

  "But, Minnette, it is absurd. Dr. Wiseman married in his old age. Why,it's a capital joke." And Archie laughed uproariously. "Who is thefortunate lady that is to be your mamma and my respected aunt?"

  "Why, no other than that little savage, Gipsy Gower."

  Had a spasm been suddenly thrust into Archie's heart, he could not haveleaped more convulsively from his seat. Even the undaunted Minnette drewback in alarm.

  "What did you say?" he exclaimed, grasping her arm, unconsciously, witha grip of iron. "To whom is he to be married?"

  "To Aurora Gower. What do you mean, sir? Let go my arm."

  He dropped it, staggered to a chair, dropped his head in his hands, andsat like one suddenly struck by death.

  "Archie, what _is_ the matter?" said Minnette, looking at him in wonder."Was Gipsy the one you came here to marry?"

  "Minnette! Minnette! it cannot be true!" he exclaimed, springing tohis feet, without heeding her question. "It is absurd--monstrous--_impossible_! My wild, free, daring Gipsy would never consent tomarry a man she abhorred. For Heaven's sake, Minnette, only say youhave been jesting!"

  "I have spoken the truth," she answered, coldly. "My father this morningmarried Aurora Gower!"

  "Great heavens! I shall go mad! What in the name of all the saintstempted her to commit such an act?"

  "I know not. Most probably it is one of her strange freaks--or, perhaps,she thinks papa rich, and married him for his money. At all events,married him she has; her reasons for doing so I neither know nor carefor."

  "Heaven of heavens! Could Gipsy--she whom I always thought the pure,warm-hearted child of nature--commit so base an act? It cannot be! Iwill _never_ believe it! By some infernal plot she has been entrappedinto this unnatural marriage, and dearly shall those who have forced herrue it!" exclaimed Archie, treading up and down the room like onedistracted.

  "You always _thought_ her simple and guileless; I always _knew_ her tobe artful and ambitious. She has not been entrapped. I have heard thatshe laughs as merrily as ever, and talks more nonsense than she ever didbefore in her life--in short, appears perfectly happy. She is too boldand daring to be entrapped. Besides, what means could they use to compelher? If she found them trying to tyrannize over her, she would run offas she did before. Nonsense, Archie! Your own sense must tell you shehas married him willingly."

  Every word was like a dagger to his heart. He dropped into a chair,buried his face in his hands, and groaned.

  "Oh, Gipsy! Gipsy!--lost to me forever. What are wealth and honor to menow! For you I toiled to win a home and name, believing you true. Andthus I am repaid for all. Oh, is there nothing but treachery and deceitin this world? Would to heaven," he added, springing fiercely up, andshaking back his fair, brown hair, "that the man she has wedded were notan old dotard like that. I would blow his brains out ere another hour."

  "My father will, no doubt, rejoice to find his years have saved hislife," said Minnette, in her customary cold tone. "Pray, Mr. Rivers, bemore calm; there is no necessity for all this excitement. If AuroraGower has deserted you for one whom she supposed wealthier, it is onlythe old story over again."

  "The old story!" exclaimed Archie, bitterly. "Yes, the old story ofwoman's heartlessness and treachery, and man's blind self-deception. Becalm! Yes; if you had told me she whom I love above all on earth wasdead, and in her grave, I might be calm; but the wife of another, andthat _other_"--he paused, and ground his teeth with impotent rage.

  "Well, since it is so, and cannot be helped, what's the use of makingsuch a time about it?" said Minnette, impatiently, taking up her bookand beginning to read.

  Archie glanced at the cold, stone-like girl before him, whose verycalmness seemed to madden him; then, seizing his hat, he rushed from theroom, exclaiming:

  "Yes, I will see her--I will confront her once more, accuse her of herdeceit and selfishness, and then leave the country forever."

  He was out of the house in an instant; and in five minutes was gallopingmadly through the driving wind and rain, unheeded and unfelt, now towardMount Sunset Hall.

  The numberless blazing lights from the many windows illumined his pathbefore it; the sound of revelry was wafted to his ears by the wind,making him gnash his teeth in very rage.

  He reached the mansion, threw the reins to one of the many servantsstanding in the court-yard; and all wet and travel-stained, pale, wild,and excited as he was, he made his way through the wondering crowd, thatinvoluntarily made way for him to pass; and

  "So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all. But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented--the gallant came late."

  Heeding not the many curious eyes bent upon him, still he strode on,until
he stood within the crowded drawing-room.

  Amid all that throng his eye saw but one face, beheld but one form.Standing near the upper end of the room was Gipsy--_his_ Gipsyonce--looking far more beautiful than he had ever seen her before, andflirting with all her might with a dashing lieutenant.

  Having gained her point, to be married in black, she had exchanged herdismal robes for the gorgeous wedding-dress that fell around her infolds of light. Pearls flashed amid her raven curls, gleamed in herears, shone on her white arms, and rose and fell on her restless bosom.She needed no rouge, for her cheeks were vivid crimson, her lips red andglowing, her eyes outshining the jewels she wore. Never had Gipsy beenso lovely, so bewildering, so intoxicating before.

  The very sight seemed to madden Archie. To see her there in all herdazzling beauty, the wife of another, laughing and talking as gayly asthough _he_ had never existed, nearly drove him to desperation. Stridingthrough the crowd of gay revelers, who drew back in alarm from his wild,pale face and fierce eyes, he advanced through the room, and stoodbefore the bride.

  There was an instantaneous hush through the room. Dr. Wiseman, alreadysullen and jealous, sprang up from the distant corner to which he hadretreated, but did not venture to approach.

  Gipsy's graceful head was bent in well-affected timidity as she listenedto the gallant words and whispered compliments of the gay young officer,when, suddenly looking up, she beheld a sight that froze the smile onher lip, the light in her eye, the blood in her veins, the very life inher heart. Every trace of color faded from her face, leaving her whiteas the dead; her lips parted, but no sound came forth.

  "So, Mrs. Wiseman, I see you recognize me!" he said, with bittersarcasm. "Allow me to congratulate you upon this joyful occasion. Do notlet the recollection that you have perjured yourself to-day before God'sminister, mar your festivity to-night. No doubt the wealth for which youhave cast a true heart aside, and wedded a man you loathe, will make youcompletely happy. As I leave America forever to-morrow, I wished tooffer my congratulations to the 'happy pair' before I went. I was foolenough, at one time, to believe the promises you made me; but I did notthen know 'how fair an outside falsehood hath.' Farewell, Mrs. Wiseman!you and I will never meet again. All your treachery, all your deceit,your heartlessness, is known to me, and I will never trouble you more!"

  He turned, left the house, sprang on his horse, and was out of St.Mark's ere any one had recovered from their astonishment andstupefaction sufficiently to speak.

  He heard not, as he rode along, the wild, piercing cry of anguish thatbroke from the lips of the bride, as she fell senseless to the ground.He knew not, as he stood on the deck of the steamer, next morning, boundfor "merrie England," that the once free, wild, mountain huntress, theonce daring, defying Gipsy, lay raving and shrieking in the wilddelirium of brain fever, calling always in vain for him she had lost.They had caught the young eaglet, and caged it at last; but the freebird of the mountains lay wounded and dying in their grasp.