Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (13 page)

 
          
“Is
it true?”

 
          
“Behold
the sign!” and with a gesture, too swift and unsuspected for any but herself to
see or understand the revelation made, Stahl bared his left arm, held it before
her eyes, and dropped it in the drawing of a breath. Whatever Ursula saw
confirmed her dread; she uttered neither cry nor exclamation, but wrung her
hands together in dumb anguish, while her lips moved without uttering a sound.

 
          
Kate
Heath’s over-wrought nerves gave way, and weeping hysterically, she clung to
Evan, imploring him to take her home. Instantly assuming his usual languid
courtesy of mien and manners, Stahl murmured regretful apologies, rang the bell
for Miss Heath’s carriage, and bringing her veil and mantle from the ante-room,
implored the privilege of shawling her with a penitent devotion wonderfully
winning, yet which did not prevent her shrinking from him and accepting no
services but such as Evan half-unconsciouslv bestowed.

 
          
“You
are coming with me? You promised mama to bring me safely back. Mr. Forrest,
take pity on me, for I dare not go alone.”

 
          
She
spoke tearfully, still agitated by the secret wound inflicted by a whisper.

 
          
“Hay
will gladly protect you, Kate; I cannot leav e Ursula,” began Evan, but a
smooth, imperious voice took the w ord from his lips.

 
          
“Hay
is gone, I shall remain with Ursula, and you, Forrest, will not desert Miss
Heath in the distress which I have unhappilv caused by granting her wish.
Forgive me, and good-night.”

 
          
As
Stahl spoke, he kissed the hand that trembled in his own, with a glance that
lingered long in poor Kate’s memory, and led her towards her friend. But Evan’s
dark face kindled with the passion that he had vainly striven to suppress, and
though he tried to curb his tongue, his eye looked
a defiance
as he placed himself beside his cousin, saying doggedly:

 
          
“I
shall not leave Ursula to the tender mercies of a charlatan unless she bids me
go. Kate, stay with us and lend vour carriage to this gentleman, as his own is
not yet here.”

 
          
Bowing
with a face of imperturbable composure, Stahl answered in his softest tones,
bending an inquiring glance on Ursula:

 
          
“Many
thanks, but I prefer to receive my dismissal from the lady of the house, not
from its would-be master. Miss Forrest, shall I leave you to begin the work
marked out for me?
or
shall I remain to untold certain
matters which nearly concern yourself, and which, if neglected, may result in
misfortune to more than one of us?”

 
          
As
if not only the words but the
emphasis
with which they
were pronounced recalled some forgotten fact, woke some new fear, Ursula
started from her stupor of surprise and mental suffering into sudden action.
All that had passed while she sat dumb seemed to return to her, and a quick
glance from face to face appeared to decide her in the course she must pursue.

 
          
Rising
she went to Kate, touched her wet cheek with lips that chilled it, and turning
to her companions regarded them with an eye that seemed to pierce to the heart’s
core of each. What she read there none knew, but some purpose strong enough to
steady and support her with a marvellous composure seemed born of that long
scrutiny, for motioning her cousin from her she said:

 
          
“Go,
Evan, I desire it.”

 
          
“Go!
and
leave you with that man? I cannot, Ursula!”

 
          
“You
must, you will, if I command it. I wish to be alone with him; I fear nothing,
not even this magician, who in an instant has changed my life by a single word.
See! I trust myself to his protection; I throw myself upon his mercy, and
implore you to have faith in me.”

 
          
With
an air of almost pathetic dignity, a gesture of infinite grace, she stretched a
hand to either man, and as each grasped the soft prize a defiant glance was
exchanged between them, a daring one was fixed upon the beautiful woman for
whom, like spirits of good and ill, they were henceforth to contend.

 
          
“I
shall obey you, but may I
come
to-morrow?” Evan
whispered, as he pressed the hand that in his own was tremulous and warm.

 
          
“Yes,
come to me early, I shall need you then — if ever.”

 
          
And
as the words left her lips that other hand in Felix Stahl’s firm hold grew
white and cold as if carved in marble.

 
          
With
Kate still trembling on his arm, Evan left them; his last glance showing him
his rival regarding his departure with an air of tranquil triumph, and Ursula,
his proud, high-hearted cousin, sinking slowly on her knees before this man,
who in an hour seemed to have won the right to make or mar her happiness for
ever.

 
          
How
the night passed Evan Forrest never knew. I le took Kate home, and then till
day dawned haunted beach and cliff like a restless ghost, thinking only of
Ursula, remembering only that she bade him come early, and chiding the tardy
sun until it rose upon a day that darkened all his life. As the city bells
chimed seven from the spires that shone across the little bav, Evan re-entered
his cousin’s door; but before he could pronounce her name the lady who for
years had filled a mothers place to the motherless girl came hurrying to meet him,
with every mark of sleepless agitation in her weary vet restless face and
figure.

 
          
“Thank
heaven, vou are come!” she ejaculated, drawing him aside into the ante-room.
“Oh, Mr. Forrest, such a night as I have passed, so strange, so unaccountable,
I am half distracted.”

 
          
“Where
is Ursula?” demanded Evan.

 
          
“Just
where vou left her, sir; she has not stirred since that dreadful Mr. Stiihl
went away.”

 
          
“When
was that?”

 
          
“Past
midnight
.
At eleven I went down to give him a hint,
but the door was fast, and for another hour the same steady sound of voices
came up to me as had been going on since you left. When he did go at last it
was so quietlv I only knew it by the glimpse I caught of him gliding down the
walk, and vanishing like a spirit in the shadow of the great gate.”

 
          
“Then
you went to Ursula?”

 
          
“I
did, sir; I did, and found her sitting as I saw her when I left the room in the
evening.”

 
          
“What
did she say?
what
did she do?”

 
          
“She
said nothing, and she looked like death itself, so white, so cold, so still;
not a sigh, a tear, a motion; and when I implored her to speak she only broke
my heart w ith the look she gave me, as she whispered, ‘Leave me in peace till
Evan comes.’”

 
          
With
one stride he stood before the closed door, but when he tapped no voice bade
him enter, and opening he noiselessly glided in. She was there, sitting as Mrs.
Yorke described her, and looking more like a pale ghost than a living woman.
Evan’s eye wandered round the room, hungry to discover some clue to the
mystery, but nothing was changed. The lamps burned dimly in the glare of early
sunshine streaming through the room; the curtains were still wafted to and fro
by balmy breezes; the seats still stood scattered here and there as they were
quitted; Captain Hay’s chair still lay overthrown; Kate’s gloves had been
trodden under foot, and round the deep chair in the window still glowed the
scattered petals of the rose with which Felix Stahl had regaled himself while
lying there.

 
          
“Ursula!”

 
          
No
answer came to his low call, and drawing nearer, Evan whispered tenderly:

 
          
“My
darling, speak to me! It breaks my heart to see you so, and have no power to
help you.”

 
          
The
dark eyes fixed on vacancy relaxed in their strained gaze, the cold hands
locked together in her lap loosened their painful pressure, and with a long
sigh Ursula turned towards him, saying, like one wakened from a heavy dream:

 
          
“I
am glad you are come;” then as if some fear stung her, added with startling
abruptness, “Evan!
what
did he whisper in your ear
last night?”

 
          
Amazed
at such a question, yet not ill pleased to answer it even then, for his full
heart was yearning to unburden itself, the young man instantly replied, while
his face glowed with hope, and his voice grew tender with the untold love that
had long hovered on his lips:

 
          
“He
said, ‘You will never win your cousin;’ but, Ursula, he lied, for I will win
you even if he bring the powers of darkness to confound me. He read in my face
what you must have read there long ago, and did not rebuke by one cold look,
one forbidding word. Let me tell my love now; let me give you the shelter of my
heart if you need it, and whatever grief or shame or fear has come to you let
me help you bear it if I cannot banish it.”

 
          
She
did not speak, till kneeling before her he said imploringly:

 
          
“Ursula,
you bade me trust you; I do entirely. Can you not place a like confidence in
me?”

 
 
          
“No,
Evan.”

 
          
“Then
you do not love as I love,” he cried, with a foreboding fear heavy at his
heart.

 
          
“No,
I do not love as you love.” The answer came like a soft echo, and her whole
frame trembled for an instant as if some captive emotion struggled for escape
and an iron hand restrained it. Her cousin saw it, and seizing both her hands,
looked deep into her eyes, demanding, sternly:

 
          
“Do
you love this man?”

 
          
“I
shall marry him.”

 
          
Evan
stared aghast at the hard, white resolution stamped upon her face, as she
looked straight before her with a blank yet steady gaze, seeming to see and own
allegiance to a master invisible to him. A moment he struggled with a chaos of
conflicting passions, then fought his way to a brief calmness, intent on
fathoming the mystery that had wrought such a sudden change in both their
lives.

 
          
“Ursula,
as the one living relative whom you possess, I have a right to question you. Answer
me truly, I conjure you, and deal honestly with the heart that is entirely your
own. I can forget myself, can put awav mv own love and longing, can devote my
whole time, strength, life to vour service, if you need me. Something has
happened that affects you deeply, let me know it. No common event would move
you so, for lovers do not woo in this strange fashion, nor betrothed brides
wear their happiness with such a face as you now wear.”

 
          
“Few
women have such lovers as mine, or such betrothals to tell. Ask me nothing,
Evan, I have told you all I may; go now, and let me rest, if any rest remains
for me.”

 
          
“Not
yet,” he answered, with as indomitable a purpose in his face as that which
seemed to have fixed and frozen hers. “I must know more of this man before I
give you up. Who and what is he?”

 
          
“Study,
question, watch and analyse him. You will find him what he seems — no more, no
less. I leave you free to do what you will, and claim an equal liberty for
myself,” she
said.                                     
.

 
          
“I
thought he was a stranger to you as to me and others. You must have known him
elsewhere, Ursula?”