Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter

by Lawrence L. Lynch

  CHAPTER XIX.

  A DUAL RENUNCIATION.

  Madeline Payne had lingered over her toilet, pondering theincomprehensible manner of Claire Keith. She now stood before hermirror, brush in hand, thinking.

  "Not ready yet?"

  If Madeline could believe her eyes, Claire was actually smiling!

  "I thought you would be waiting for me," continued Claire, composedly,pulling a big chair forward, and sitting down where she could lookfull in Madeline's face. "But it is just as well; there is somethingthat I want to say, before we go down. Why don't you go on with yourhair?"

  Madeline's hand, brush and all, had dropped to her side, and she wassilently staring at her friend. Without a word she resumed heremployment, looking more at Claire than at her own reflected image.

  "You guessed rightly, when you accused me of having seen Mr. Percyto-day," pursued Claire.

  "Accused, Claire?"

  "Well, informed, then. I did see him. He wrote me a letter; it wasposted at Bellair; you see," smiling bitterly; "that I have no reasonfor doubting anything you have told me."

  A new light broke over Madeline's face. "Do you doubt?" she asked,quickly.

  "Not one word!"

  "Oh!" drawing a breath of relief. "You were so composed I thought--"

  "That I was hoping to disprove your statements? Not at all. And whyshould I not be composed? Do you think my heart could break for such aman?"

  "Hearts don't break so easily," said Madeline, gloomily, "but theyache sometimes."

  "Do they?" placing her hand over her heart and smiling faintly. "Well,mine don't ache either, yet; but it burns."

  Madeline stayed her brush again. "No," she murmured, "it don't ache_yet_."

  Claire made a gesture of impatience. "Oh, I know what you mean,Madeline! By and by my heart will ache, of course--I know that, havingdiscovered, quite recently, that I am human. One can't feel outragedand angry always, and sometimes, I suppose, my day-dreams will comeback and haunt me. Well, that is a part of the price we have to payfor intruding into dreamland when we are not asleep. But this is notwhat I began to say. Edward Percy met me to-day, and this is what hetold me: He said he was going away, upon some geological expedition,and would most likely be gone a year. He wanted me to promise to holdmyself free until he could return and claim me. He would exact noother promise now, only pledging himself. At the end of a year, allobstacles to our open engagement would be removed. I, of course,supposed, then, that the 'obstacles' referred to, were business andfinancial ones. Don't think, Madeline, that we have been in the habitof meeting clandestinely. He visited me openly in Baltimore, but notoften enough to excite remark; and we frequently met at other places,as he went in the best society there."

  Claire paused, but Madeline went on with her toilet in grave silence.

  "Madeline, darling, I can't thank you enough for opening my eyesbefore it was too late, while it was no worse--and I can't explain myfeelings. I despise him, and I despise myself for being thus duped. Itis my pride that is suffering now but, of course, I know that, despisethe man as I may, my heart will be heavier and my life darker, becauseof what I believed him to be. Now let us go to Olive."

  Madeline Payne threw her arms impulsively about her friend andmurmured, brokenly:--"Claire, Claire! you are braver than I, and far,far more worthy. You have a right to be happy, and you shall be."

  And in that moment the girl renounced a resolve she had taken, and ahope she had cherished.

  As they descended the stairs together Claire fancied that she lookedpaler, and a thought sadder than before.

  They found Olive and dinner waiting. As they took their places aboutthe luxury-laden board, three lovelier women or three sadder heartscould not have been found in a day's journey.

  Of the three, Claire Keith was the calmest, the most self-possessed.All that was to be related by Madeline, all that Olive was waiting inanxious expectation to hear, she knew already. The best and the worsthad been revealed to her; her own course was clear before her. So sheate her dinner with composure, and bore a large share in the tabletalk that, but for her, would have been rather vague and spasmodic.

  Dinner was an ordeal for Olive, at least, on that day, for her mindwas filled with thoughts of Philip, and wonderment as to how thepicture of the man who had been his ruin came into the possession ofMadeline, who was making herself more and more of a mystery.

  Madeline, too, was restless. She wished the revelation were made anddone with. She wondered if she could control the future so far asOlive was concerned, for she had made her plans, and did not proposeto let the work be taken out of her hands.

  When Madeline had related to Olive the events that had beentranspiring at Oakley, she had narrated faithfully the scenes betweenCora and Percy, but she had withheld the name of the latter, a factwhich was not even noticed by Olive, who had not been especiallyinterested in this last actor upon the scene.

  Now, when dinner was over, and they had grouped themselves about thegrate, its ruddy glow illuminating the twilight that was fast givingplace to evening shadows, Madeline retold the story of Percy's firstinterview with Cora on his arrival, and his second, in thesummer-house, the overhearing of which had caused that long absencefrom Miss Arthur's dressing-room, which necessitated her ingenious andhighly improbable explanation to the aggrieved spinster, with whichthe reader is already acquainted.

  During this recital the face of Olive Girard was a study. It changedfrom curiosity to wonder; from wonder to a dawning hopefulness offinding in all this a possible clue, that might help her husband tohis freedom. Then despair took the place of hope, as the clue seemedto elude her grasp. At the end, astonishment and incredulity fairlytook away her breath. She sank back in her chair without uttering aword.

  Madeline waited for comments, but Claire was the first to speak.During the recital she had been able to think, and to some purpose. Asthe disjointed fragments were joined together by Madeline, Claire wasdrawing shrewd and close inferences. Now she lifted her head andasked:

  "Madeline, have you formed any sort of a theory, as to how all thismight affect Olive and Philip?"

  Madeline looked up in surprise at the question, and answered it byasking another: "Have you?"

  "Yes, but I think Olive would rather hear yours; and mine is, as yet,but half formed."

  Olive had regained a measure of her composure, and now she sat erect,and said, eagerly:

  "Madeline, I have been too much surprised and shocked to thinkclearly. Think for me, child, and for mercy's sake, tell me at onceall that you suspect."

  "I suspect much," replied the girl, gravely; "but what we want is_proof_. First we want to find out who is the party who accompaniedMadame Cora, or Alice, as Percy called her, to Europe, for to Europeshe went. Did she know Lucian Davlin ten years ago? Did they gotogether to Europe?"

  "You want to know, first of all," said Claire, interrupting her, "whenthe intimacy of those two did begin. The woman may not have known himten years ago. It would be easier to find out if they have been alliesduring the past five years."

  Madeline turned a look of surprised admiration upon the speaker as shereplied:

  "You are right, Claire, and keener than I. Yet, my theory is, thatthey were friends before the woman fled from her cottage in thesuburbs. I think the stealing of the marriage certificate has a strongsavor of a man's thoughtful cunning. The woman could not have been sodeep a schemer in those days. Now, Olive, let us suppose that thesetwo were plotting in unison. Edward Percy's first wife dies, and noone the wiser about the marriage. Then he inherits his uncle's wealth.If Edward Percy were to die then, the woman, Cora, could come forwardas his widow, display the proofs of their marriage, and inherit hisfortune. He seems to have no living relatives, but, even should otherheirs appear, she would claim her widow's portion."

  "Good heavens!" gasped Olive.

  "Wait," pursued Madeline; "now, don't you see, supposing all the resttrue, that if Lucian Davlin attempted the life of this man, with theview of get
ting his money, and if he failed in some mannerunknown,--don't you see that, holding over Percy's head the fear ofthe law, and the proofs of his having committed bigamy, he might thussilence him? Then, that the two disliking Philip Girard, and findingthe opportunity to throw suspicion upon him by circumstantialevidence, would naturally do so."

  Olive Girard was fearfully agitated, but, after a few moments, had ina measure recovered her self-possession. Then the three seemed seizedwith a desire to talk all at once. And talk they did,--fast,earnestly, excitedly at times.

  At last, out of many words, they evolved a plan of action, and havingarrived at a definite conclusion, they settled down into partial calmonce more; a calm that was broken by a most agreeable ripple.

  Doctor Clarence Vaughan was announced, and ushered into theirpresence, all in the same moment.

  Doctor Vaughan was glad to see Madeline; that was evident. But whilehe expressed his pleasure in frank, brotherly fashion, his eyeswandered from her face to that of Claire Keith.

  It was only a look, but Madeline Payne would have exchanged all thesmiles, hand clasps, and brotherly words she could ever hope toreceive from him, for one such glance from his eyes. But the tenderwistfulness was all for Claire--blind Claire, who saw nothing of it.

  Madeline withdrew her hand from his clasp, uttering, as she did so, aflippant commonplace in response to his hearty greeting, but Clairehad caught the look in his eyes, and the false gayety in Madeline'svoice, and it caused her to wonder.

  Heretofore she had lived in a dream of her own, and had been carelessof the varying expressions of those about her. Her dream had beendispelled, and she seemed now to have a keener eye for the emotion ofothers. Troubles of our own, sometimes, open our eyes to the fact thatour friends are not all supremely happy. Then we naturally fall tospeculating as to the cause. This was the case with Claire. Shespeculated a little as to why the eyes of Dr. Vaughan rested upon her,with that half-sad expression in them. Then she wondered why thespirit of perversity had possessed Madeline, and induced her to extendto Doctor Vaughan so shabby a welcome. Then, without realizing it, shefell to observing the manner of these two more closely.

  "Well, Miss Payne, what report do you bring from the enemy's country?"he asked, after a few commonplaces between himself and the mistress ofthe house.

  "I have not been in the enemy's country, Doctor Vaughan; the enemiesare infesting mine."

  "As you please, little warrior," smiled he. "Then may I ask, how goesthe battle?"

  "Oh, yes! you may ask," crossing over and seating herself besideOlive, "but your curiosity must wait. It's a ridiculous, tiresomestory, and wouldn't amuse you much, or interest you, either. I amgoing to let Mrs. Girard inflict it upon you, when she thinks you needa penance."

  "I think _you_ need a penance now, Miss Payne, for accusing me of toomuch curiosity, and too little interest."

  "Oh, I didn't mean that, exactly," shrugging her shoulders carelessly."I suppose, of course, a physician is interested to a certain extentin all his subjects, living or dead; but I can't let you dissect mymind to-night. Besides," laughing maliciously, "I know you wouldrecommend leeches and blisters, and maybe a straight jacket, and Ican't be stopped in my charming career just yet."

  Clarence Vaughan seemed not in the least offended by the girl's coolinsolence. He smiled indulgently, and when Olive ventured a gentleremonstrance, he murmured to Claire, with a half laugh: "Miss Madelineis incomprehensible to me; do you understand her, Miss Keith?"

  "Dr. Vaughan was ushered into their presence."--page209.]

  And Claire, looking across at her friend, replied, oddly: "I loveher, Doctor Vaughan, and I begin to understand her, I think."

  "Do you?" smiling down upon her. "Then some day will you not interprether to me?"

  Claire's answer was again given oddly, as, lifting her eyes to hisface, she said, quite gravely: "If it is necessary to do so, perhaps Iwill."

  Then conversation became general; rather Dr. Vaughan talked, and theyall listened.

  Claire found herself thinking that Doctor Vaughan was a noble-lookingman; not alluringly handsome, as was Edward Percy; not possessing themagnetic fascination that Madeline had described as belonging toLucian Davlin. But he had a fine face, nay, a grand face, full ofstrength and sweetness; not devoid of beauty, but having in itsomething infinitely better, truer, and more godlike than merephysical beauty can impart to any face.

  Then she thought of Madeline, of her loneliness, her sorrow, and herneed of just such a strong, gentle nature to lean upon, to look up to,and to obey. "She would obey _him_," quoth Claire to herself.

  Next she fell to watching Madeline, through half-closed eyelashes. Shesaw how the girl listened to his every word; how, when his eyes werenot upon her, she seemed to devour him with a hungry, longing,sorrowful gaze.

  "As if she were taking leave of him forever," thought Claire.

  And that is what Madeline was doing. When she came to the city, it waswith the determination to win the love of this man, if it could bewon; to let nothing stand between herself and the fulfillment of thatpurpose. But all this had been changed, and seeing how bravely Clairebore the shock of her lover's baseness, how proudly, how nobly, shecommanded herself, Madeline had abandoned her purpose.

  "I am not worthy of him, and she is," she told herself.

  When she declared that Claire should be happy, she bade farewell toher own hope of future happiness. She would help him to win the girlhe loved, and then she would be content to die; aye, more thancontent.

  To-night, therefore, she was saying in her heart a farewell to thisman, who was so dear to her. She had almost hoped that she should notmeet him again for the present, and yet she was so glad to have seenhim once more. She was glad of his presence, yet fearful lest her goodresolution might be shaken. She would not let him be too kind to her,rather let him think her ungrateful, anything--what could it matternow?

  "Shall you not come back to the city soon, Miss Payne? Surely your oldhome can not be the most charming place, in your eyes," questionedClarence, after a time.

  "I don't intend returning to the city--at least, not for some time,Doctor Vaughan."

  Clarence looked perplexed.

  To break the silence that ensued, Claire crossed to the piano andbegan playing soft, dreamy fragments of melody.

  Presently Olive took up the conversation, and when Madeline againturned her face toward him, he was listening to Olive and looking atClaire. It was the same look, yearning, tender.

  Claire, all unconscious of his gaze, was looking at Madeline, as sheplayed softly on.

  As Olive and Clarence talked, Claire saw the face of the girl growdark; she saw her eyes full of a hungry, despairing light, andgradually there crept upon her the remembrance that she had seen thatsame look, only not so woful, in the eyes of Clarence Vaughan; thatsame look fixed upon herself. Involuntarily her fingers slipped fromthe keys, and she turned from the instrument to encounter the samegaze fastened upon her now; ardent, tender, longing eyes they were,and her own fell before them.

  Claire Keith was troubled. She wanted to be alone, to think. Shemurmured an excuse; her head ached; she would retire.

  Clarence had noted an unusual brightness in her eye, and a feverishflush upon her cheek. Now, however, she was quite pale, and as sheextended her hand to him with a strange, new sensation of diffidenceand consciousness, he clasped it for a moment in his own, and said,earnestly: "You do not look at all well, Miss Keith; you are sure itis only a headache?"

  "Quite sure," smiling faintly.

  "Then good-night. I shall enquire after your head to-morrow."

  "Thank you," she murmured.

  Then nodding to her sister and Madeline, she glided from the room.

  It had _all_ come upon her at once. Edward Percy was an impostor;Edward Percy, as she had believed in him, had never existed. The lovethat she had believed hers was hers no longer, or, if it were, she nolonger desired it. Almost simultaneously with this knowledge, came theunspoken assuranc
e that she was the possessor of a worthier love, amanlier heart.

  She could not feel glad to know this, yet she was not sorry. Somehowit soothed her to know that she was not a forsaken, loveless maiden.It was something to possess the love of so good a man, even if shecould make it no return.

  But Madeline. Poor Madeline; she loved this man; she needed his love,she must have it.

  Claire pulled back the curtains from her window, and gazed out intothe starlit night. "She needs this love," the girl murmured. "ClarenceVaughan shall learn to love her, if I can bring it about. Yes, _evenif I loved him_, I would give him up to her."