CHAPTER XLIII.
THE DOCTOR'S WOOING.
Mrs. Ralston had become to Olive Girard as one of the family. Therewas a strange affinity between the two women, who had known so much ofsorrow, so many dark, dark days. As yet, however, there was not entireconfidence. Mrs. Ralston knew nothing of the movements then on foot toliberate the husband of her hostess; and Olive knew no more of Mrs.Ralston's past than had been communicated by Claire, which was inreality but very little.
Dr. Vaughan had become an ardent admirer of the grave, sweet, palelady, who had, in her turn, conceived a very earnest admiration forhim.
Always a close student of the human countenance, Mrs. Ralston had notbeen long in reading in the face of the young man his regard forClaire Keith. Having discovered this, she studied him still moreattentively, coming, at last, to the conclusion that he was worthy ofher beloved Claire.
But Claire appeared ever under a strange restraint in the presence ofDr. Vaughan. She seemed always to endeavor to keep either her sisteror her friend at her side, as if she found herself more at ease whilein their proximity. Evidently she was keeping close guard overherself. And just as evidently she was glad to be in the presence ofClarence Vaughan when supported by her sister and friend, and safefrom a _tete-a-tete_.
Mrs. Ralston was really troubled by this apparent misunderstanding, orwhatever it might be, that rendered Claire less cordial towards Dr.Vaughan than she would have been to one who was only a friend, and farless worthy of friendship. She mentally resolved, when a fittingopportunity should occur, to endeavor to win the confidence of thegirl, for she saw that two natures, formed to love each other, weredrifting apart, with no prospect of a better understanding. And thatopportunity came sooner than she had expected.
One day, a day destined to be always remembered by the chief actors inour strange drama, Mrs. Ralston seated herself at a davenport in Mrs.Girard's pretty library to write a letter to Mr. Lord. The promptnessand energy of that good man had completely baffled the acutedetective, and the danger which Mrs. Ralston had so much feared, thedanger of being discovered by her worthless husband, was now past.
She had entered the library through the drawing-room and, both roomsbeing untenanted, had left the door of communication between them halfopen.
Sitting thus, she heard the door of the drawing-room open, and therustle of feminine garments betokened the entrance of one of herfriends. Presently soft ripples of music fell upon her ear, and sheknew that it was Claire who was now at the piano, playing dreamily,softly, as if half fearful of awakening some beloved sleeper.
After a few moments, the ripple changed to a plaintive minoraccompaniment, that had in it an undertone as of far-off winds andwaves. Then the full, clear voice of the girl rang out in that mostbeautiful of songs, which alone should make famous the genius of JeanIngelow and Virginie Gabriel:
"When sparrows build and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries."
The singer sang on, all unconscious that two listeners were noting thepassion and pain in her voice:
"How could I tell I could love thee to-day, When that day I held not dear? How could I know I should love thee, away, When I did not love thee near?"
As the last note died away in sorrowful vibrations, Mrs. Ralston, inthe library, was conscious of tears trickling down her cheek.
At the same moment there was a discordant crash among the piano keys,and Claire's voice was saying, almost angrily: "Dr. Vaughan! how cameyou here? How dared you--"
There was a suspicious tremor in her voice, and she stopped speaking,as if too proud to show how very much she had been thrown off herguard.
"Forgive me, Miss Keith," the deep voice of Clarence Vaughanresponded. "Believe me, I did not intend my presence as animpertinence. Your servant admitted me, and I thought it not wrong toenter unannounced, although I hardly hoped to find you alone. Surelyyou do not blame me for my silence while you sang?"
Claire made no reply. She was strongly tempted to fly and let ClarenceVaughan think what he would. But before she could stir, he had moved astep nearer and was looking straight down in her eyes.
"Claire," he said, in tones of reverential tenderness, "I have waitedfor the time to come when I might say to you what you must let me saynow. You have seemed to avoid me of late; I can not guess why. Andto-day, as I listened to your song, a new thought, a new fear, hasentered my mind. Claire, tell me, have you read the love that hasbeen in my heart since I first saw your face, and have you sought toshun me because you love another?"
While he was uttering this speech, Claire Keith had regained herself-command, and her answer now came low and clear: "Dr. Vaughan, youhave not guessed aright. I have not avoided you because I loveanother."
"Claire, nature did not make you an actress. There was love in yourvoice when you sang that song!"
"Thank you," coolly; "I have been taught to sing with expression."
"Claire, Claire Keith, I beg you answer me truly; do you reallydislike me? You say you do not love another; could you learn to loveme?"
No answer.
"Tell me, Claire, do you not know how deeply I love you?"
Silence.
"Claire, Claire, speak to me. End this suspense. Will you not try tolove me?"
She moved away from him, and avoiding his eyes, answered in an odd,hard voice: "No, Dr. Vaughan, I will not try to love you."
His next words were uttered almost tremulously. "Ah! I understand. Ihave displeased you; tell me how."
"You have never displeased me. You are goodness itself. Let me pass,Doctor Vaughan; I must not listen to you."
"Must not? Then you do avoid me?"
"Yes," almost inaudibly.
"Why?" stepping before her and cutting off her retreat.
"I won't tell you. Yes, I will, too. Oh, how blind you are! How canyou love me when--when there is some one better, better a thousandtimes, and braver, too. Some one whose life needs your love, becauseit has been so loveless always. I won't love you. I won't listen toyou. If you want me to be your friend, make the life that is givingits best to others, as happy as it deserves to be. And--don't evertalk--like this--to me again."
Before he could open his lips, or put out a hand to detain her, shehad rushed from the room.
Clarence Vaughan gazed after the flying form in speechless grief andamazement. Then flinging himself into a chair, he bowed his head uponhis hands in sorrowful meditation. Sitting thus he did not perceivethe approach of some one, who laid a hand lightly upon his bowed head,murmuring: "Blind! blind! blind!"
Starting up, he saw the face of Mrs. Ralston bending toward him andwearing an expression of mingled compassion and amusement.
"Forgive me," she said, her countenance resuming its usual gravity. "Iwas in the library, and heard all. I listened willfully, too, for Ihave been observing you and Claire, and I want to help you."
Clarence dropped disconsolately back in his chair. "If you have heardall," he said, "you know that it is useless to try to help me."
Mrs. Ralston laughed outright. "If you were not blind you would notneed my help," she said. "As it is, you do."
"Mrs. Ralston, what do you mean?"
"I mean that your battle is half won. If you will explain to me onehalf her words, I will explain to you the other half."
"You are laughing at me," he said, wearily. "What can you explain?"
"That ridiculous girl commanded you to bestow your love upon some moreworthy object; some one who was living for others; or some such words.Whom did she mean, may I ask?"
He started up as if inspired by a new thought. "I see!" he exclaimed;"She must have meant--a very dear friend of hers."
He could not say the name that was in his thought. It would sound likeegotism.
"That is sufficient," said the lady. "Now, I am going to betrayClaire, as she has betrayed this other one. You foolish fellow, can'tyou see that the child loves you and is striving to do a Quixoticthing by giving you up to her frien
d? Think over her words and manner,and don't take her at her bidding. If this other, to whom Clairecommands you to turn, is a true woman, she would not thank you for theoffer of a preoccupied heart."
"She is a true woman," said Clarence, emphatically. "And as dear to meas a sister could be, but--"
"Then let her be a sister still," said Mrs. Ralston, quietly. "Anddon't lose any time in persuading Claire that she is wronging herselfas well as you; and that you would be wronging still more this friendwhom you both love, were you to offer her so pitiful a thing as a handwithout a heart. She is a true woman, you say. If so, she would neverforgive that. Believe me, Dr. Vaughan, there are even worse depths ofsorrow than to have loved worthily--and lost."
Mrs. Ralston turned and went softly from the room.
For a few moments, Clarence Vaughan stood wrapped in thought. Then hisface became illuminated as he said, half aloud: "What a fool I havebeen, that I should have so misunderstood that dear girl! Oh, I can bepatient now, and bide my time."
And now his reverie was broken in upon by Olive, who enteredhurriedly, saying: "Doctor Vaughan, are you here alone? I thoughtClaire was with you."
He made no answer to this remark, but said, as he took her profferedhand: "I ran down to tell you that I have taken the detectives off.Jarvis is still in our pay, in case of emergency. He has sent hisreport to Davlin, and a scant one it was. Of course, Davlin is glad tohave him withdraw; that is, if he knows, as he must, that the papersare not in Percy's hands."
"Then all depends upon Madeline now?"
"All depends upon Madeline."
"Poor Philip," sighed Olive, "what would he say if he knew that hisfate rests in the hands of a mere girl?"
"If he knew of that 'mere girl' what we know, he would say that hisfate could not rest in better hands. No man ever had a more efficientchampion, nor one half so brave and beautiful."
They had not dared to tell Philip of the hope that was daily growingstronger in their hearts; if they failed, he should be thrust backinto no gulf of black darkness because they had cheated him with afalse hope.
Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter Page 44
