A Day of Fate

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER XVII

  MY WORST BLUNDER

  I scarcely could foresee how we should get through the following day. Iboth longed for and dreaded it, feeling that though it might passquietly enough, it would probably be decisive in its bearing on theproblem of my life. Miss Warren would at last be compelled to face thetruth squarely, that she had promised a man what she could not give,and that to permit him to go on blindly trusting would be impossible.The moment she realized fully that she had never truly loved him, andnow never could, she would give up the pretence. Then why should shenot see that love, duty, and truth could go together? That she hadstruggled desperately to be loyal to Mr. Hearn was sadly proved by herthin face and wasted form; but with a nature like hers, when once hergenuine love was evoked, the effort to repress it was as vain asseeking to curb a rising tide. I now saw, as I looked back over thepast weeks, that her love had grown steadily and irresistibly till ithad overwhelmed all save her will and conscience; that these stood, thetwo solitary landmarks of her former world. And I knew they wouldstand, and that my only hope was to stand with them. Her love had goneout to me as mine had to her, from a constraint that she could notresist, and this fact I hoped would reveal to her its sacred right tolive. With every motive that would naturally bind her to a man whocould give her so much, her heart claimed its mate in one who mustdaily toil long hours for subsistence. It would be like her torecognize that a love so unthrifty and unselfish must spring from thedeepest truths and needs of her being rather than from any passingcauses. She would come to believe as I did, that God had created us foreach other.

  But it seemed as if the whole world had changed and gone awry when wesat down to breakfast the next morning. Adah was polite to me, but shewas cool and distant. She no longer addressed me in the Friendlytongue. It was "you" now. I had ceased to be one of them, in herestimation. Her father and mother looked grave and worried, but theywere as kind and cordial to me as ever. Reuben and the little girlswere evidently mystified by the great change in the social atmosphere,but were too inexperienced to understand it. I was pained by Adah'smanner, but did not let it trouble me, feeling assured that as shethought the past over she would do me justice, and that our relationswould become substantially those of a brother and sister.

  But I was puzzled and alarmed beyond measure by Miss Warren's mannerand appearance, and my feelings alternated between the deepest sympathyand the strongest fear. She looked as if she had grown old in thenight, and was haggard from sleeplessness. Her deep eyes had sunkendeeper than ever, and the lines under them were dark indeed, but herwhite face was full of a cold scorn, and she held herself aloof from usall.

  She looked again as if capable of any blind, desperate self-sacrifice.

  Simple, honest Mr. Yocomb was sorely perplexed, but his wife's face wasgrave and inscrutable. If I had only gone quietly away and left thewhole problem to her, how much better it would have been!

  I tried to speak to Miss Warren in a pleasant, natural way; her answerswere brief and polite, but nothing more. Before the meal was over sheexcused herself and returned to her room. I felt almost indignant. Whathad I--most of all, what had her kind, true friends, Mr. and Mrs.Yocomb--done to warrant that cold, half--scornful face? Her coming tobreakfast was but a form, and she clearly wished to leave us at theearliest possible moment. Adah smiled satirically as she passed out,and the expression did not become her fair face.

  I strode out to the arbor in the garden and stared moodily at thefloor, I know not how long, for I was greatly mystified and baffled,and my very soul was consumed with anxiety.

  "She shall listen to reason," I muttered again and again. "Thisquestion must be settled in accordance with truth--the simple, naturaltruth--and nothing else. She's mine, and nothing shall separate us--noteven her perverse will and conscience;" and so the heavy hours passedin deep perturbation.

  At last I heard a step, and looking through the leaves I saw the objectof my thoughts coming through the garden, reading a letter. My eyesglistened with triumph. "The chance I coveted has come," I muttered,and I watched her intently. She soon crushed the letter in her hand andcame swiftly toward the arbor, with a face so full of deep and almostwild distress that my heart relented, and I resolved to be as gentle asI before had intended to be decisive and argumentative. I hastilychanged my seat to the angle by the entrance, so that I could intercepther should she try to escape the interview.

  She entered, and throwing herself down on the seat, buried her face inher arm.

  "Miss Warren," I began.

  She started up with a passionate gesture. "You have no right to intrudeon me now," she said, almost sternly.

  "Pardon me, were I not here when you entered, I would still have aright to come. You are in deep distress. Why must I be inhuman any morethan yourself? You have at least promised me friendship, but you treatme like an enemy."

  "You have been my worst enemy."

  "I take issue with you there at once. I've never had a thought towardyou that was not most kind and loyal.

  "Loyal!" she replied, bitterly; "that word in itself is a stab."

  "Miss Warren," I said, very gently, "you make discord in the old gardento-day."

  She dropped her letter on the ground and sank on the seat again. Such apassion of sobs shook her slight frame that I trembled withapprehension. But I kept quiet, believing that Nature could care forher child better than I could, and that her outburst of feeling wouldbring relief. At last, as she became a little more self-controlled, Isaid, gravely and kindly:

  "There must be some deep cause for this deep grief."

  "Oh, what shall I do?" she sobbed. "What shall I do? I wish the earthwould open and swallow me up."

  "That wish is as vain as it is cruel. I wish you would tell me all, andlet me help you. I think I deserve it at your hands."

  "Well, since you know so much, you may as well know all. It doesn'tmatter now, since every one will soon know. He has written that hisbusiness will take him to Europe within a month--that we must bemarried--that he will bring his sister here to-night to help me makearrangements. Oh! oh! I'd rather die than ever see him again. I'vewronged him so cruelly, so causelessly."

  In wild exultation I snatched a pocketbook from my coat and cried:

  "Miss Warren--Emily--do you remember this little York and Lancaster budthat you gave me the day we first met? Do you remember my half-jesting,random words, 'To the victor belong the spoils'? See, the victor is atyour feet."

  She sprang up and turned her back upon me. "Rise!" she said, in a voiceso cold and stern that, bewildered, I obeyed.

  She soon became as calm as before she had been passionate andunrestrained in her grief; but it was a stony quietness that chilledand disheartened me before she spoke.

  "It does indeed seem as if the truth between us could never be hidden,"she said, bitterly. "You have now very clearly shown your estimate ofme. You regard me as one of those weak women of the past whom thestrongest carry off. You have been the stronger in this case--oh, youknow it well! Not even in the house of God could I escape your vigilantscrutiny. You hoped and watched and waited for me to be false. Should Iyield to you, you would never forget that I had been false, and, inaccordance with your creed, you would ever fear--that is, if yourpassion lasted long enough--the coming of one still stronger, to whomin the weak necessity of my nature, I again would yield. Low as I havefallen, I will never accept from a man a mere passion devoid of respectand honor. I'm no longer entitled to these, therefore I'll acceptnothing."

  She poured out these words like a torrent, in spite of my gestures ofpassionate dissent, and my efforts to be heard; but it was a cold,pitiless torrent. Excited as I was, I saw how intense was herself-loathing. I also saw despairingly that she embraced me in herscorn.

  "Miss Warren," I said, dejectedly, "since you are so unjust toyourself, what hope have I?"

  "There is little enough for either of us," she continued, morebitterly; "at least there is none for me. You will, no doubt, getbravely over i
t, as you said. Men generally do, especially when intheir hearts they have no respect for the woman with whom they areinfatuated. Mr. Morton, the day of your coming was indeed the day of_my_ fate. I wish you could have saved the lives of the others, but notmine. I could then have died in peace, with honor unstained. But now,what is my life but an intolerable burden of shame and self-reproach?Without cause and beyond the thought of forgiveness, I've wronged agood, honorable man, who has been a kind and faithful friend for years.He is bringing his proud, aristocratic sister here to-night to learnhow false and contemptible I am. The people among whom I earned myhumble livelihood will soon know how unfit I am to be trusted withtheir daughters--that I am one who falls a spoil to the strongest. Ihave lost everything--chief of all my pearl of great price--my truth.What have I left? Is there a more impoverished creature in the world?There is nothing left to me but bare existence and hateful memories.Oh, the lightning was dim compared with the vividness with which I'veseen it all since that hateful moment last night, when the truth becameevident even to Adah Yocomb. But up to that moment, even up to thishour, I hoped you pitied me--that you were watching and waiting to helpme to be true and not to be false. I did not blame you greatly for yourlove--my own weakness made me lenient--and at first you did not know.But since you now openly seek that which belongs to another; since younow exult that you are the stronger, and that I have become your spoil,I feel, though I cannot yet see and realize the depths into which Ihave fallen. Even to-day you might have helped me as a friend, andshown me how some poor shred of my truth might have been saved; but yousnatch at me as if I were but the spoil of the strongest. Mr. Morton,either you or I must leave the farmhouse at once."

  "This is the very fanaticism of truth," I cried, desperately. "Yourmind is so utterly warped and morbid from dwelling on one side of thisquestion that you are cruelly unjust."

  "Would that I had been less kind and more just. I felt sorry for you,from the depths of my heart. Why have you had no pity for me? You are aman of the world, and know it. Why did you not show me to what thiswretched weakness would lead? I thought you meant this kindness whenyou said you wished my brother was here. Oh that I were sleeping besidehim! I thought you meant this when you said that nothing would last,nothing could end well unless built on the truth. I hoped you werewatching me with the vigilance of a man who, though loving me, was sostrong and generous and honorable that he would try to save me from aweakness that I cannot understand, and which was the result of strangeand unforeseen circumstances. When you were so ill I felt as if I haddealt you your death-blow, and then, woman-like, I loved you. I lovedyou before I recognized my folly. Up to that point we could scarcelyhelp ourselves. For weeks I tried to hide the truth from myself. Ifought against it. I prayed against it through sleepless nights. Itried to hide the truth from you most of all. But I remember the flashof hope in your face when you first surmised my miserable secret. Ithurt me cruelly. Your look should have been one of dismay and sorrow.But I know something of the weakness of the heart, and its firstimpulse might naturally be that of gladness, although honor must havechanged it almost instantly into deep regret. Then I believed that youwere sorry, and that it was your wish to help me. I thought it was yourpurpose yesterday to show me that I could be happy, even in the path ofright and duty, that had become so hard, though you spoke once as youought not. But when I, unawares, and from the impulse of a gratefulheart, spoke your name last night as that of my truest and best friend,as I thought, you turned toward me the face of a lover, and to-day--butit's all over. Will you go?"

  "Are Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb false?" I cried.

  "No, they are too simple and true to realize the truth. Mr. Morton, Ithink we fully understand each other now. Since you will not go, Ishall. You had better remain here and grow strong. Please let me pass."

  "I wish you had dealt me my death-blow. It were a merciful one comparedwith this. No, you don't understand me at all. You have portrayed me asa vile monster. Because you cannot keep your engagement with a man younever truly loved, you inflict the torments of hell on the man you dolove, and whom Heaven meant you to love. Great God! you are not marriedto Gilbert Hearn. Have not engagements often been broken for good andsufficient reasons? Is not the truth that our hearts almost instantlyclaimed eternal kindred a sufficient cause? I watched and waited that Imight know whether you were his or mine. I did not seek to win you fromhim after I knew--after I remembered. But when I knew the truth, you_were_ mine. Before God I assert my right, and before His altar I wouldprotest against your marriage to any other."

  She sank down on the arbor seat, white and faint, but made a slightrepellent gesture.

  "Yes, I'll go," I said, bitterly; "and such a scene as this might wellcause a better man than I to go to the devil;" and I strode away.

  But before I had taken a dozen steps my heart relented, and I returned.Her face was again buried in her right arm and her left hand hung byher side.

  I took it in both of my own as I said, gently and sadly:

  "Emily Warren, you may scorn me--you may refuse ever to see my faceagain; but I have dedicated my life to your happiness, and I shall keepmy vow. It may be of no use, but God looketh at the intent of theheart. Heathen though I am, I cannot believe he will let the June daywhen we first met prove so fatal to us both: the God of whom Mrs.Yocomb told us wants no harsh, useless self-sacrifice. You are notfalse, and never have been. Mrs. Yocomb is not more true. I respect andhonor you, as I do my mother's memory, though my respect now counts solittle to you. I never meant to wrong you or pain you; I meant yourhappiness first and always. If you care to know, my future life shallshow whether I am a gentleman or a villain. May God show you howcruelly unjust you are to yourself. I shall attempt no furtherself-defence. Good-by."

  She trembled; but she only whispered:

  "Good-by. Go, and forget."

  "When I forget you--when I fail in loving loyalty to you, may Godforget me!" I replied, and I hastened from the garden with as muchsorrow and bitterness in my heart as the first man could have felt whenthe angel drove him from Eden. Alas! I was going out alone into a worldthat had become thorny indeed.

  As I approached the house Mrs. Yocomb happened to come out on thepiazza.

  I took her hand and drew her toward the garden gate. She saw that I wasalmost speechless from trouble, and with her native wisdom divined itall.

  "I did not take your advice," I groaned, "accursed fool that I was! Butno matter about me. Save Emily from herself. As you believe in God'smercy, watch over her as you watched over me. Show her the wrong ofwrecking both of our lives. She's in the arbor there. Go and stay withher till I am gone. You are my only hope. God bless you for all yourkindness to me. Please write: I shall be in torment till I hear fromyou. Good-by."

  I watched her till I saw her enter the arbor, then hastened to thebarn, where Reuben was giving the horses their noonday feeding.

  "Reuben," I said, quietly, "I'm compelled to go to New York at once. Wecan catch the afternoon train, if you are prompt. Not a word, oldfellow. I've no time now to explain. I must go, and I'll walk if youwon't take me;" and I hastened to the house and packed for departurewith reckless haste.

  At the foot of the moody stairway I met Adah.

  "Are you going away?" she tried to say distantly, with face averted.

  "Yes, Miss Adah, and I fear you are glad."

  "No," she said, brokenly, and turning she gave me her hand. "I can'tkeep this up any longer, Richard. Since we first met I've been veryfoolish, very weak, and thee--thee has been a true gentleman toward me."

  "I wish I might be a true brother. God knows I feel like one."

  "Thee--thee saved my life, Richard. I was wicked to forget that for amoment. Will thee forgive me?"

  "I'll forgive you only as you will let me become the most devotedbrother a girl ever had, for I love and respect you, Adah, very, verymuch."

  Tears rushed into the warm-hearted girl's eyes. She put her arms aroundmy neck and kissed me. "Let this seal that agreement,"
she said, "andI'll be thy sister in heart as well as in name."

  "How kind and good you are, Adah!" I faltered. "You are growing likeyour mother now. When you come to New York you will see how I keep myword," and I hastened away.

  Mr. Yocomb intercepted me in the path.

  "How's this? how's this?" he cried.

  "I must go to New York at once," I said. "Mrs. Yocomb will explain all.I have a message for Mr. Hearn. Please say that I will meet him at anytime, and will give any explanations to which he has a right. Good-by;I won't try to thank you for your kindness, which I shall value moreand more every coming day."

  For a long time we rode in silence, Reuben looking as grim and loweringas his round, ruddy face permitted.

  At last he broke out, "Now, I say, blast Emily Warren's grandfather!"

  "No, Reuben, my boy," I replied, putting my arm around him, "with allhis millions, I'm heartily sorry for Mr. Hearn."