Book: Honor Edgeworth

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There was a breathless pause of a second--Guy feared the beatings of his
heart would betray him--hungrily he waited to catch the word that would
fall from Honor Edgeworth's lips--his rage, his contempt, his
indignation, had all subsided during this interval of terrible
suspense--he had forgotten for that little moment the depravity of the
man before him, he only knew, that in Honor's eyes, this was a dashing,
handsome, fascinating young fellow, and that the great crisis of his own
life as upon him--one other minute and over the vista of coming years,
would have settled a pall of hopeless darkness or a flood of gorgeous
sunshine--he listened in smothered breaths, the moon hid herself behind
a dark, curling cloud, he could not see now, but he heard the voice,
that had filled his heart for years, speak out m firm and clear, though
gentle accents.

"Mr. Standish," Honor said, "will you kindly release my hands from your
uncomfortable grasp," his hands immediately fell by his sides, "I will
not say your precipitation surprises me," she continued coldly,
"somehow, nothing, that _you could_ do, would actually surprise me, but
I must say it displeases me. One instant, suffices for me, to review my
conduct towards you, since the hour of our first meeting, and I can find
absolutely nothing therein, which could have encouraged or even
sanctioned you, in such a wild plan as this--you cannot be quite
yourself to-night--let us forget this unpleasant episode, and return to
the ball-room. I regret having come here at all."

"And you think I suppose, that I will pocket my emotions with such a
dismissal as this? Are you a tyrant altogether?" he asked in terrible
anxiety--then suddenly changing his tone, he appealed, "Honor, you know
it is not we who control our destinies, it is not we who create or guide
our propensities, is it _my_ fault that I have fallen in love with you?
Is it your fault that you are beautiful and loveable and grand? I have
striven with a mighty struggle to overcome my passion, but fate had
another will. You are a woman--kind, good and true, you profess to
understand the human heart; now mine is before you in all its blank
misery--be merciful Honor--I will love you and cherish you all my life
long--I will be your most devoted friend--I will sacrifice every evil
for your sake, and learn from you how to do what is right and good--say
you will consent to take me and let me not face the future with despair
in my soul--do not raise my hand in temptation, for remember if the
heart cannot grant life it can grant death," Honor gasped--Guy opened
his eyes, and tried to read the face of this mysterious man. Even Guy,
schooled as he was in the catalogue of this unfortunate's crimes, almost
pitied him now, and had she been an unsuspecting girl, would most
certainly have yielded to his passionate request--he could scarcely
expect that Honor would act otherwise, until her voice broke the awful
silence and said,--

"No more of this, Mr Standish! You are speaking the language of the
wicked, and it is offensive to me; if you value my regard at all, do not
strive to lessen it--you have been plain and abrupt with me, let me be
the same with you--I can never be more to you than I am at this moment--
all the devotion and love you offer me is no temptation, I may tell you
though, it most likely will yet flatter a worthier girl than I, your
name may yet be gladly shared by a better deserving woman, this I
earnestly wish you--but as I can never, positively never, be a degree
nearer to you than I am to-night, let us drop this painful subject, and
bury it with the other follies of our past."

Vivian Standish stood up straight and grand-looking before Honor, as she
spoke the foregoing words. He was, evidently, not prepared for this, he
hesitated for one instant, deliberating with himself, and as Guy saw his
mortification and disappointment, he could not help feeling that in one
of their successes depended the other's misfortune--he began to hope
again; he could see the struggle in the face of the rejected suitor, he
might have pitied him in the end but for the words of sneering retort
that burst from the white lips at this same instant,--

"Well, it was not my luck to be the first--poor me! How could I have the
audacity to seek a hand that is waiting for another's grasp? But though
you scarcely deserve it, Miss Honor, I will tell you to give up
cherishing the forbidden image that fills your heart--a man whom your
kind guardian has turned--"

Guy winced, and Honor, raising her bare white arm in the moonlight, in
an imposing gesture, cried,

"Stop, sir! How dare you address me thus? I have answered your
questions, be kind enough to leave me now, your presence is growing
distasteful."

"I knew that would hurt," was the jeering retort, "but bless your little
heart, give him up, it is an empty ambition to pine over, he cares no
more for you than that pillar there," pointing to the one which
concealed Guy, "but then there is more romance about forbidden--"

"Leave me, I command you, before I am provoked to speak my mind as
plainly as you deserve to hear it," then, pointing inward, she repeated
emphatically, "Go!" and with a broad smile of mock courtesy he bowed
before her, kissed his hand insolently to her, and saying,

"You dear little thing, I really half like you," he skipped towards the
ball-room, leaving her alone in her excitement.

The noise and merriment had not ceased all this while though this little
room was quiet and deserted, whether the guests had suspected who the
occupants were, and in consequence kept at a respectable distance; or
whether it was just as pleasant to deposit themselves around on the
stairways and in the corridors, during the intervals of the dance, I can
scarcely tell, but in any case the cosy _boudoir_ was, left entirely to
the young hostess and her admirer.

When Vivian had passed into the ball-room again, Honor turned in, and
sank into a low chair by the window, she touched one opened half,
peevishly with her tiny slipper, to shut out the night air that had
begun to chill her; a loose white downy wrap that she had thrown over
her shoulders hung negligently to one side, leaving one round white arm
bare, her head rested languidly back on the crimson cushions of her
chair, the little fringes of pearls that nestled at her bosom on her low
bodice, shivered and trembled as she breathed. The gas burned very low
within, and with its subdued light only helped to make Honor still more
like a spectre than she was. Guy, standing quite close to the panes,
could see the gray pallor that had come over her agitated face, her eyes
wore that far-off look that is not of earth, as if she were peering
through the impenetrable, into mysteries beyond, he leaned forward
breathlessly, noiselessly, and looked into the room, she was
alone--quite alone, looking pale, and ill, and tired--Oh, how he longed
to comfort and protect her! how his heart ached for the right to do so!

"What are men made of, and what puzzling secret tendency is common to
every human heart, that such situations as this totally overcome it?
What is there in the smile of a woman, in the glance of her eye, in the
sound of her voice, to speak so eloquently to man's susceptibilities;
why does one woman never see this power in another, nor one man in his
fellow-man? Is it a portion of ourselves that we recognize in those we
love, that their loss is our wreck and their gain, our fortune? Oh
mysterous mysteries of the human soul, ye taunt us and teaze us, but ye
are our life, our happiness, and our hope, may we never solve your
fascinating secrets, 'tis their obscurity is their charm."

Guy was a strong-minded, unromantic fellow, truly enough, but as he
looked in upon the graceful reclining figure of the girl he loved, lying
still and thoughtful among the cushions of her chair, his heart was just
as inflamed as any victim's of sentiment, his passion filled him, welled
up to his very lips so violent, so strong, that it burst its feeble
limits and broke out in one resistless word, "Honor" the very sound of
his own voice startled Guy, he could have rushed from the spot into
oblivion forever, had not the still reclining figure grown suddenly
animate, like a spark of electric fluid the word vibrated through her
whole frame, she started suddenly up with an expression of blank dismay
on her face.

"Honor," he repeated, more calmly this time, "do not be frightened, it
is only I."

"You! Guy Elersley," she almost gasped, looking full into his eyes, with
a half wistful gaze.

"Yes, Guy Elersley," he answered, a little sadly, "am I intruding?"

"It is not that," she said hesitatingly, "but your presence surprises me
so, I thought you were--"

"Miles away, no doubt," he interrupted, "but now that I am really here,
am I ever so little welcome?"

"You do not need to ask that," Honor said a little formally, "I think
the name of the house is too well-known to necessitate such a question."

"Oh, Honor, you know I do not mean that, why don't you spare me a
little?" Then looking anxiously around the room, he asked, "am I safe
here, to speak to you without fear of being seen or interrupted?"

"May be not," she faltered. "We had better go outside."

She drew the thick heavy folds of her white wrap over her head and
shoulders, and stepped out under the shelter of the portico. When they
reached the farthest end she stood, and said in amused surprise--

"What business of terrible importance could have brought you here in
this way?"

"I cannot tell you that immediately," he answered seriously, "but you
will know it by and bye, Honor," taking her hands in his, and looking
meaningly into the deep gray eyes, "will you be vexed if I tell you that
I have just overheard your conversation with Vivian Standish?"

"Not half so much as he would be," she answered good-humoredly, "have
you been playing eaves-dropping?"

"In a sort of a way, yes, I was startled by you both, while stealing an
entrance, and I slid behind that pillar there for protection, and of
course had to stop there then."

"If I remember now, Vivian's words compromised you sadly so, for he
spoke rather deprecatingly of the regard that pillar had for me, he must
have known you were there?"

Guy wondered if Honor was playing coquette with him now, he could not
take his eyes off her, she looked so bewitching and lovely, wound up in
her soft white wrappings.

"You are jesting now," he said with a sad earnestness, "Honor, if I had
come to tell you, that after many months of suspense and sacrifice, I
had sought my way back to you, to tell you that, all my hopes and
aspirations were incapable of realization without you, that life would
never be more than an empty dream, unless I had won you, would you pity
me, and believe me, and relieve me?"

As he spoke, he pressed her slender little hands tightly, and looked
hungrily, pleadingly into her large dreamy eyes. She looked suddenly up,
and their glances met, may be for four or five seconds, their eyes
remained in this fixed gaze, then, there were no words required, Guy
Elersley had read his answer clearly, unmistakeably; gently, tenderly,
lovingly he placed his arms around her, and gathered her into his close
embrace, he felt her shiver in his strong arms, then suddenly
remembering himself, he asked--

"Are you cold, Honor?"

"Cold! so near your heart as this, is it cold enough to freeze me?"

"Try it," he whispered, "Oh Honor, could it be possible that life holds
so much enchantment for me yet, are you going to let yourself be won by
such an unworthy admirer as I am, but at least, I can swear to you, that
I have never yet loved any creature as I have you," then interrupting
himself as it were, he asked teazingly--"By the way, who is this _other_
fellow that Standish accused you of loving?--first, is it true that you
did love him?"

Honor fidgeted for a second or so, and then looking shyly up into Guy's
face, said--

"I hope you won't be vexed, but I am afraid it is a little true I assure
you, I could not help loving him."

"Well, this interests me somewhat," Guy muttered in assumed jealousy.
"Who is he, what is he like, what is his name?"

"Oh, he is not very nice," Honor retorted coquettishly, "quite plain,
almost homely, I should say, but I can't give his name, he did not give
it to _me_--yet."

"Oh, he didn't eh?" Guy said in a voice of gay enthusiasm, "well have
you contemplated what you will do when he offers it to you?"

"Well, I suppose, it would be rude to refuse him, and it is one of those
particular cases, where I would not like to make the slightest breach of
etiquette."

"How considerate you are. Well, come now, tell me his name--you must?"

"If I must, I must, I suppose, but I am sure he would be vexed, if he
knew that I told another man his name, on a moonlight night, in that
other man's arms, his name is--," and while she hesitated, she looked
mischievously up into his radiant face, and then hung her pretty head
half shyly, saying, "Oh, _you_ know--his name is--Jones!" She turned
away her blushing face after this, and Guy, who never felt so happy in
all his life before, laughed merrily over her little joke, then stooping
to the pretty lips, yet sweet with their delicious confession, he stole
the first long kiss of love! A very strong mark of his affection, if we
believe, like Byron, that "a kisses strength, we think, should be
reckoned by its length." Then the merriment died out of each passionate
face, Honor's society gravity passed like a quick shadow over her
radiant features; placing both her hands on Guy's strong heaving breast,
she raised her wistful face to his, and said so seriously,

"Guy--what has passed between us to-night, has formed the crisis of our
lives. We have told one another of our loves, and now we must remember,
that whatever comes or goes, we belong by a sacred right, exclusively
one to another. We have laid bare our lives' secrets, our confidence has
been mutual, let us never forget the responsibilities that these avowals
entail, I believe we are both happy to-night, and I hope it is only the
beginning of a sequel of many such nights and days."

Guy held her beautiful face in his hands and said in loving earnest--

"You have spoken the very words of my own heart, Honor, not until my
soul gives up the capacity to love on earth, will I for one instant
prove faithless to the pledge I have spoken to-night." As they walked
slowly back to the open window, Guy took occasion to ask Honor, whether
she had cared in the least degree for Vivian Standish; Honor only looked
up smilingly, and said--

"Don't be jealous of the regard I have bestowed upon him, poor fellow,
he deserved it all, but after this, I fear, he may not get exactly his
due, however, I have done with him for the rest of my life."

"I have a little dealing to do with him," Guy said meaningly, "and the
only condition upon which I could have shown him any leniency, would be
that you had ever cared for him; I am glad to know you have not."

"I would not say it, to bring him rigid justice at your hands," Honor
interrupted, "but still I would rather declare, that I am entirely
innocent of ever having had the slightest penchant in that direction."

"I will not prevent you from making that a boast," Guy answered, "but I
might have known, that there could never exist any affinity between you
two."

They had reached the doorway now, and Guy took the little hand Honor
extended within his own--

"Good night," he said, and then rubbing her fingers caressingly between
his warm palms, he said reproachfully:

"I have kept you too long, have I not, your hands are so cold?"

"Never mind that," she answered sadly, "that is not the coldness which
makes us suffer most, if you never make me feel any other coldness than
this, we will be good friends all our lives."

"Trust me," he answered earnestly, "that time will never come, Honor,
when my coldness will chill you, the coldness of death will come upon me
first."

Then their lips met again, and with a fond good-night, they parted.

Honor stole back to the little room within. She had not been an hour
away altogether, and yet it seemed to her she was a dozen whole years
older in experience. The night air had brought a ruddy glow into her
pale face, and the happy tale of love just gathered from Guy's lips had
kindled a light of dazzling beauty in her eyes.

When she returned to the ball room, leaning on the arm of a fussy old
bachelor whom she had intercepted on the way, everyone noticed how
bright and happy she looked, and the would-be sages shook their heads
and envied Vivian Standish in their hearts for having captured such a
prize of rare beauty and goodness.

It seemed quite _apropos_ also that Vivian and Honor should evade one
another for the rest of the night, this they did, though not in a
remarkable way, for Honor was too worldly-wise to betray herself before
a ball-room full of people. Their mutual separation gave other young
enthusiasts ample chance to amuse themselves with each other.

Vivian Standish moved through the crowd with the same placid, self
sufficient smile that he always wore, he was just as interesting and as
gay as ever, and to the delight of all the young "fancy free" ladies,
sought their society more generously during the rest of this evening at
Mr. Rayne's than he had ever done since rumor linked him with Honor
Edgeworth.

Miss Mountainhead, who had always had a wild enthusiasm for Vivian
Standish without ever being able to form his acquaintance, followed his
graceful figure greedily with her calculating eyes through the crowded
room to-night. She felt that before this entertainment ended she would
have met and spoken to him, and she was beginning to exult therein
already. As she sat cogitating thus, a group of young men formed
themselves a little in front of her: looking up, she saw Vivian
Standish, who was amusing the rest, with some droll quotation. Little
did she realize what she was contemplating in this deceptive face, what
a perfect practitioner he was in the art of seeming and appearing,
commanding his outside as he did, with an ease that did him credit! No
one except Honor in all that gay coterie, had ever seen him disconcerted
or in a dilemma, even at this very moment, who could tell? not even Miss
Mountainhead, who studied him so closely, that he was racked by painful
emotions while he was causing merriment to this little group of friends.

It was a splendid opportunity for Miss Gerty's introduction. Bob Apley,
her cousin, stood very near her listening to the fun. He knew perfectly
well how she longed for this gratification, and yet he would not give it
to her now when he had such a golden opportunity. She had waited long
enough for him to seek her out, but all in vain she resolved not to let
this night pass without satisfying herself.

While she seemingly listened with all cold serenity of countenance to
Madame d'Alberg's commonplace remarks, she quietly stretched out her
blue satin slipper and proceeded to impress her negligent cousin with
the fact that she wanted him to fulfil an old promise of his; not
heeding her first gentle reminder, she turned her face with its eager
listening expression, very pronouncedly to Madame d'Alberg and repeated
the movement with an increased emphasis, resolved to make him notice her
before she gave up.

With a curious, puzzled expression on his face, Vivian Standish turned
to see who could be paying such marked attentions to his shining
"pomps," but his surprise only augmented a hundred-fold on seeing the
guilty slipper of a young lady with whom he was not acquainted. She was
fanning herself violently as he turned, and without looking back she
muttered behind her fan in his direction "can't you introduce me?"

The whole situation burst upon him in a moment, he knew her to be
acquainted with every other one in the crowd but himself, and her satin
slipper had mistaken him, in its errand, for her "cousin Bob," leaving
the impression on his foot. It was too good a situation to forfeit, so
taking Bob Apley by the shoulder, he turned him around and said--"Miss
Mountainhead, allow me to introduce my friend Mr Apley." The poor girl
looked aghast; her confusion left her speechless.

"Is this not the one?" Vivian queried provokingly, "you see I didn't
understand from dainty slipper, which friend you could mean."

He had managed that no one heard the joke besides Apley and themselves,
but she looked more to be pitied over it than any sea-sick maiden she
blushed and stammered, and got confused by turns, until Vivian artfully
shifted the topic and asked her for the pleasure of the next dance.

The night sped on, and the Christmas festivities at Mr. Rayne's came to
a close. No one was any the wiser of the difference that it had caused
between Honor and Vivian, each had succeeded well in deceiving curious
eyes, and in puzzling the suspicious, jealous ones who surrounded them.

Amid many glad greetings of "merry Christmas," Honor's guests departed
after having enjoyed a most glorious evening in the house of her
hospitable guardian.



CHAPTER XXXVII.


"The true
And steadfast love of years,
The kindly, that from childhood grew,
The faithful to our tears"

_--Mrs Heman_

The day after the ball, to the great grief of his devoted household,
Henry Rayne was much weaker than usual. His tasty, tempting breakfast
went back untouched to the kitchen. Although he had not gone down last
night to the scene of gaiety below, his intimate and privileged friends
had visited him in his own apartments above, and the reaction of this
excitement had assumed alarming features to-day.

Honor hastened to his side the moment she had finished a hurried toilet.
She got herself impatiently into a wrapper of dark red cashmere, which
fastened at the waist with cords and heavy tassels. A little ruffle of
lace bound her throat, and her feet were thrust into dainty slippers,
her beautiful hair hung in two long braids down her back, making a
perfect picture of her _en deshabille_. She walked stealthily to the
door of the sick room, and seeing the dim eyes of her loved invalid
looking at her, wide open, she ventured in. She advanced slowly to the
large chair on which he sat, and half-seating herself on the cushioned
arm, she threw her arms around his neck and asked in a melancholy voice,
"how he felt this morning?"

"They tell me you are not so well, to-day, is that true, dear old pet,
when I have come to wish you the brightest, happiest Christmas day that
will be spent on earth?"

The dim eyes of the old man turned lovingly on her for a moment, his
lips trembled and his voice was suspiciously shaky as he answered,

"Oh, 'tis nothing to dread, my darling; I am only a little weaker,
that's all."

"Yes; but that's a great deal," Honor retorted, "and we must try all we
can to restore you before to-morrow. You were getting on so nicely. I
wonder what can have made the difference."

"Why, you'll quite spoil me," the gentle voice tried to say jestingly,
but the eyes closed languidly and the head drooped helplessly back among
the cushions. Two great, round tears stood in Honors eyes, she bowed her
head over the suffering form, and kissed the clammy brow of the
invalid--she tried to say something of encouragment, but great sobs of
stifled anguish choked the passage in her throat.

A moment after, the sick man raised his lids wearily and looked on the
girl's clouded face.

"My dear little one," he faltered, as he saw the wet lashes and the
trembling lips, "I think, after all, you love your old friend a little
bit."

Honor tried to smile through her tears--it was like a little rainbow
bursting through the clouds. She knelt down beside him, and looking up
earnestly into his face, said,

"You _must_ get better, if 'twere only for my sake. I did not realize
before as I do now how essential you are to my very existence. I shudder
to imagine life without you, and yet if you do not eat and nourish
yourself during these days, you cannot--" but she would not say the
fearful word--her head fell on his shoulder, and she burst into tears.

"My darling!" muttered the unsteady voice of the invalid, "life was
never so seductive to me as it is now, there was a time when I did not
much mind whether I lived or died, but that was before I had you,--since
you have begun to share my solitary life, turning it's dark, dreary
nights into days of happy brightness, I have seen it with other eyes. I
have resigned my days as they passed, one by one, with a greedy,
unwilling resignation, because I had learned to prize them and to love
them, after I had prized and loved you; but, now!--if I must give them
up all at once and forever, I am not going to grumble." A low sob of
suppressed pain escaped the girl's lips. "I have had more comfort in
this world than I ever counted upon," he continued, "I have not known
poverty or destitution, and since a merciful Creator has spared me from
so many briars and thorns of life, I must be doubly resigned to leave
the comforts I have so undeservedly enjoyed, and obey His call."

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