Though there was but little in Mr. S———‘s public life which I did not know, I had little or no knowledge of his domestic relations beyond the fact that he was a widower4 with one child. I did not even know where he lived. But inquiry5 at police headquarters soon settled that, and in half an hour after leaving the doctor’s office I was at his home.
It was a large, old-fashioned dwelling6, of comfortable aspect; too comfortable, I thought, for the shadow of doom7, which, in my eyes, overlay its cheerful front, wide-open doors and windows. How should I tell my story here! What credence8 could I expect for a tale so gruesome, within walls warmed by so much sunshine and joy. None, possibly; but my story must be told for all that.
Ringing the bell hurriedly, I asked for Mr. S———. He was out of town. This was my first check. When would he be home? The answer gave me some hope, though it seemed to increase my difficulties. He would be in the city by eight, as he had invited a large number of guests to his house for the evening. Beyond this, I could learn nothing.
Returning immediately to Miss Calhoun, I told her what had occurred, and tried to impress upon her the necessity I felt of seeing Mr. S——— that night. She surveyed me like a woman in a dream. Twice did I have to repeat my words before she seemed to take them in; then she turned hurriedly, and going to a little desk standing9 in one corner of the room, drew out a missive, which she brought me. It was an invitation to this very reception which she had received a week before.
“I will get you one,” she whispered. “But don’t speak to him, don’t tell him without giving me some warning. I will not be far from you. I think I will have strength for this final hour.”
“God grant that your sacrifice may bear fruit,” I said, and left her.
To enter, on such an errand as mine, a brilliantly illuminated10 house odoriferous with flowers and palpitating with life and music, would be hard for any man. It was hard for me. But in the excitement of the occasion, aggravated11 as it was by a presage12 of danger not only to myself but to the woman I had come so near loving, I experienced a calmness, such as is felt in the presence of all mortal conflicts. I made sure that this was reflected in my face before leaving the dressing-room, and satisfied that I would not draw the attention of others by too much or too little color, I descended13 to the drawing-room and into the presence of my admired host.
I had expected to confront a handsome man, but not of the exact type that he presented. There was a melancholy14 in his expression I had not foreseen, mingled15 with an attraction from which I could not escape after my first hurried glimpse of his features across the wide room. No other man in the room had it to so great a degree, nor was there any other who made so determined an effort to throw off care and be simply the agreeable companion. Could it be that any other warning had forestalled16 mine, or was this his habitual17 manner and expression? Finding no answer to this question, I limited myself to the duty of the hour, and advancing as rapidly as possible through the ever-increasing throng18, waited for the chance to speak to him for one minute alone. Meantime, I satisfied myself that the two detectives sent from police headquarters were on hand. I recognized them among a group of people at the door.
Whether intentionally19 or not, Mr. S ——— had taken up his stand before the conservatory20, and as in my endeavors to reach him I approached within sight of this place, I perceived the face of Miss Calhoun shining from amid its greenery, and at once remembered the promise I had made her. She was looking for me, and, meeting my eyes, made me an imperceptible gesture, to which I felt bound to respond.
Slipping from the group with which I was advancing, I stole around to a side door towards which she had pointed21, and in another moment found myself at her side. She was clothed in velvet22, which gave to her cheek and brow the colorlessness of marble.
“He is not as ignorant of his position as we thought,” said she. “I have been watching him for an hour. He is in anticipation23 of something. This will make our task easier.”
“You have said nothing,” I suggested.
“No, no; how could I?”
“Perhaps the detectives I saw there have told him.”
“Perhaps; but they cannot know the whole.”
“No, or our words would be unnecessary.”
“Mr. Abbott,” said she, with feverish24 volubility, “do not try to tell him yet; wait for a few minutes till I have gained a little self-possession, a little command over myself; but no—that may be to risk his life—do not wait a moment—go now, go now, only——” She started, stumbled and fell back into a low seat under a spreading palm. “He is coming here. Do not leave me, Mr. Abbott; step back there behind those plants. I cannot trust myself to face him all alone.”
I did as she bade me. Mr. S——, with a smile on his face—the first I had seen there—came in and walked with a quick step and a resolved air up to Miss Calhoun, who endeavored to rise to meet him. But she was unable, which involuntary sign of confusion seemed to please him.
“Irene,” said he, in a tone that made me start and wish I had not been so amenable25 to her wishes, “I thought I saw you glide26 in here, and my guests being now all arrived, I have ventured to steal away for a moment, just to satisfy the craving28 which has been torturing me for the last hour. Irene, you are pale; you tremble like an aspen. Have I frightened you by my words—too abrupt29, perhaps, considering the reserve that has always been between us until now. Didn’t you know that I loved you? that for the last month—ever since I have known you, indeed—I have had but the one wish, to make you my wife?”
“Good God!” I saw the words on her lips rather than heard them. She seemed to be illumined and overwhelmed at once. “Mr. S———,” said she, trying to be brave, trying to address him with some sort of self-possession,
“I did not expect—I had no right to expect this honor from you. I am not worthy30—I have no right to hear such words from your lips. Besides——” She could go no further; perhaps he did not let her.
“Not worthy—you!” There was infinite sadness in his tone. “What do you think I am, then? It is because you are so worthy, so much better than I am or can ever be, that I want you for my wife. I long for the companionship of a pure mind, a pure hand——”
“Mr. S———” (she had risen, and the resolve in her face made her beauty shine out transcendently), “I have not the pure mind, the pure hand you ascribe to me. I have meddled31 with matters few women could even conceive of. I am a member—a repentant32 member, to be sure—of an organization which slights the decrees of God and places the aims of a few selfish souls above the rights of man, and——”
He had stooped and was kissing her hand.
“You need not go on,” he whispered; “I quite understand. But you will be my wife?”
Aghast, white as the driven snow, she watched him with dilating33 eyes that slowly filled with a great horror.
“Understand!—you understand! Oh, what does that mean? Why should you understand?”
“Because”—his voice sunk to a whisper, but I heard it, as I would have recognized his thought had he not spoken at that moment—“because I am the chief of the organization you mention. Irene, now you have my secret.”
I do not think she uttered a sound, but I heard the dying cry of her soul in her very silence. He may have heard it, too, for his look showed sudden and unfathomable pity.
“This is a blow to you,” he said. “I do not wonder; there is something hateful in the fact; latterly I have begun to realize it. That is why I have allowed myself to love. I wanted some relief from my thoughts. Alas34! I did not know that a full knowledge of your noble soul would only emphasize them. But this is no talk for a ballroom35. Cheer up, darling, and——”
“Wait!” She had found strength to lay her hand on his arm. “Did you know that a man was condemned36 to-day?”
His face took on a shade of gloom.
“Yes,” he bowed, casting an anxious look towards the room from which came the mingled sounds of dance and merriment. “The bell which announces the fact rang during my absence. I did not know there was a name before the society.”
She crouched37, covering her face with her hands. I think she was afraid her emotion would escape her in a cry. But in an instant they had dropped again, and she was panting in his ear:
“You are the chief and are not acquainted with these matters of life and death? Traitors
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