Rosamond, or, the Youthful Error Part 3

She darted off in the direction of his sleeping-room, unconscious of the voice which called after her, asking if it were not dark in the hall, and bidding her take a light.

"But what does it matter?" he said, as he tottered to the sofa. "_She_ is not here. At.w.a.ter Seminary is two hundred miles away. She can't harm Rosamond now."

By this time Rosamond came with the pillows, which she arranged upon the sofa, making him lie down while she sat by, and laid her hand soothingly upon his burning forehead.

"We will have tea in here to-night," she said, "I told Mrs. Peters so, and I will make it myself. Do you feel any better?" and she brought her rosy face so near to his that he felt her warm breath upon his cheek.

"Yes, I am better," he replied, "but keep your hand upon my forehead.

It a.s.sures me of your presence, when my eyes are shut."

So Rosamond sat beside him, and when Mrs. Peters came in to lay the cloth, she found them thus together. Smiling knowingly, she whispered to herself, "'Nater is the same everywhere," and the good lady bustled in and out, bringing her choicest bits and richest cake in honor of her pet's return. That night, freed from boarding-school restraint, Rosamond slept soundly in her own pleasant chamber, but to Ralph Browning, pacing up and down his room, there came not a moment of unconsciousness. He could not forget how near he had been to one who had embittered his whole life--nor yet how near to her young Rosamond had been, and he shuddered as if the latter had escaped an unseen danger. Occasionally, too, the dread thought stole over him, "suppose she should come here, and with her eagle eye discover what, if it exist at all, is hidden in the inmost recesses of my heart."

But of this he had little fear, and when the morning came he was himself again, and, save that it was haggard and pale, his face gave no token of the terrible night he had pa.s.sed. But what should he do with Rosamond? This was the question which now perplexed him. He had no desire to send her from him again, neither would she have gone if he had--and he at last came to the very sensible conclusion that the school in his own village was quite as good as any, and she accordingly became an attendant at the Granby Female Seminary. Here she remained for two years and a half, over which time we will pa.s.s silently and introduce her again to our readers, when she is nearly eighteen--a graduate---a belle--and the suns.h.i.+ne of Riverside.

CHAPTER V.

BROTHER AND SISTER.

During the time which had elapsed since Ben Van Vechten first made the acquaintance of Rosamond, he had not once been to Riverside, for, failing to enter college, and overwhelmed with mortification at his failure, he had returned to Alabama, from which place he wrote to her occasionally, always addressing her as a little girl, and speaking of himself as a very ancient personage in comparison with herself. But that Rosamond was now no longer a little girl was proved by her finely rounded figure, her intelligent face, her polished manners and self- reliant air. And Rosamond was beautiful, too--so beautiful that strangers invariably asked _who_ she was, turning always for a second look, when told she was the adopted sister or daughter--the villagers hardly knew which--of the wealthy Mr. Browning. But whether she were the daughter or the sister of the man with whom she lived, she was in reality the mistress of his household, and those who at first slighted her as the child of a milliner, now gladly paid her homage as one who was to be the heir of Mr. Browning's wealth. He would never marry her, the wise ones thought--would never marry anybody--and so, with this understanding, he was free to talk, walk, and ride with her as often as he chose. He liked her, the people said, but did not love her, while Rosamond herself believed he almost hated her, so strangely cold and harsh was his manner toward her at times.

This coldness had increased of late, and when the Lawries, who, next to Mr. Browning, were the most aristocratic people in the place, suggested that she should accompany them for a few weeks to the Springs, she was delighted with the plan, and nothing doubting that Mr. Browning would be glad to have her out of the way, she went to him for his consent. She found him in his library, apparently so absorbed in reading that he did not observe her approach until she stood between him and the light. Then he looked up quickly, and, as she fancied, an expression of displeasure pa.s.sed over his face.

"Excuse me for disturbing you," she said, rather petulantly; "I have to break in upon your privacy if I would see you at all."

He gave her a searching glance, and then, laying aside his book and folding his arms, said pleasantly, "I am at your service now, Miss Leyton. What is it you wish?"

Very briefly she stated her request, and then sitting down in the window, awaited his answer. It was not given immediately, and when he did speak, he said--"Rosamond, do you wish to go?"

"Of course I do," she replied, "I want to go where it is not as lonesome as I find it here."

"Lonesome, Rosamond, lonesome," he repeated. "Riverside has never been lonesome since--" he paused a moment and then added, "since you came here."

The shadow disappeared from Rosamond's face, as she replied--"I did not suppose you cared to have me here. I thought you did not like me."

"Not like you, Rosamond?" and over his fine features there came a look of pain, which increased as Rosamond continued:--"You are so cold at times, and shun me as it were; inventing excuses to drive me from you when you know I would rather stay."

"Oh, Rosamond," he groaned, "how mistaken you are. The world would be to me a blank were it not for you; and if my manner is sometimes cold and cruel, it is because stern duty demands it should be so. I cannot lay bare my secret heart to you of all others, but could you know me as I am, you would censure much, but pity more." He paused a moment, then, scarcely knowing what he said, he continued--"Rosamond, we will understand each other. _I shall never marry_--never _can_ marry. In your intercourse with me, will you always remember that?"

"Why, yes," answered Rosamond, puzzled to comprehend him. "I'll remember that you say so, but it is not likely you'll keep your word."

"I am not trifling with you," he said." Marriage is not for _me_.

There is a dreadful reason why I cannot marry, and if at times I am cold toward you, it is because--because--"

Rosamond's eyes were riveted upon his face--darker and darker they grew, becoming at last almost black in their intensity. She was beginning to understand him, and coloring crimson, she answered, bitterly: "I know what you would say, but you need have no fears, for I never aspired to that honor. Rosamond Leyton has yet to see the man she could love."

"Rosamond," and Mr. Browning's voice was so low, so mournful in its tone that it quelled the angry feelings in the young girl's bosom, and she offered no resistance when he came to her side and took her hand in his, saying as he did so--"Listen to me. You came here a little girl, and at first I did not heed you, but you made your presence felt in various ways, until at last I thought I could not live without you.

You are a young lady now--the world calls you beautiful. To me you are beautiful. Oh, _so_ beautiful," and he laid one hand upon her s.h.i.+ning hair, softly, tenderly nay, proudly, as if she had been his child. "I am not old yet, and it would be natural that we should love each other, but we must not--we cannot."

"And lest I should love you too well, you have tried to make me hate you," interrupted Rosamond, trying in vain to release herself from his powerful grasp, and adding, "but you can spare yourself the trouble. I like you too well to hate you; but as I live, I would not marry you if I could. I mean what I say!"

He released her hand, and returning to his chair, laid his head upon the table, while she continued--"I know just about how well you like me--how necessary I am to your comfort, and since fate has decreed that we should be thrown together, let us contribute to each other's happiness as far as in us lies. I will think of you as a brother, if you like, and you shall treat me as a sister, until somebody takes me off your hands. Now, I can't say _I_ shall never marry, for I verily believe I shall. Meantime, you must think of me just as you would if you had a wife. Is it a bargain, Mr. Browning?"

She spoke playfully, but he knew she was in earnest, and from his inmost soul he blessed her for having thus brought the conversation to a close. He would not tell her why he had said to her what he had--it was not what he intended to say, and he knew she was in a measure deceived, but he could not explain to her now; he could not tell her that he trembled for himself far more than for her, and it was not for her then to know how much he loved her, nor how that love was wearing his life away because of its great sin. He was growing old now very fast. The shadows of years were on his brow, and Rosamond almost fancied she saw his brown locks turning white. She was a warm-hearted, impulsive girl, and going toward him, she parted from his forehead the hair streaked with gray, saying softly to him: "Shall it not be so?

May I be your sister?"

"Yes, Rosamond, yes," was his answer; and then, wis.h.i.+ng to bring him back to the point from which they started, Rosamond said abruptly-- "And what of the Springs? Can I go?"

The descent was a rapid one, but it was what he needed, and lifting up his head, he replied, just as he had done before, "Do you want to go?"

"Not as much as I did when I thought you were angry, and if you would rather, I had quite as lief stay with you."

"Then stay," he said, "and we will have no more misunderstandings."

The next evening, as he sat alone in the parlor, a servant brought to him a letter, the superscription of which made him reel, as if he would have fallen to the floor. It was nearly four years since he had seen that handwriting--he had hoped never to look upon it again--but it was there before his eyes, and she who wrote that letter was coming to Riverside--"would be there in a few days, Providence permitting. Do not commit suicide on my account," she wrote, "for I care as little as yourself to have our secret divulged, and unless I find that you are after other _prey_, I shall keep my own counsel."

The letter dropped from his nerveless fingers--the objects in the room swam before his eyes, and like one on whom a crus.h.i.+ng weight has fallen, he sat bewildered, until the voice of Rosamond aroused him, and fleeing to his chamber he locked the door, and then sat down to think. She was coming to Riverside, and wherefore? He did not wish for a reconciliation now--he would rather live there just as he was, with Rosamond.

"Nothing will escape her," he said; "those basilisk eyes will see everything--will ferret out my love for that fair young girl. Oh, Heaven, _is_ there no escape!"

He heard the voice of Anna Lawrie in the yard. She was coming for Rosamond's decision, and quick as thought he rang the bell, bidding the servant who appeared to send Miss Leyton to him.

"Rosamond," he said, when she came to the door, "I have changed my mind. You must go to the Springs."

"But I'd rather stay at home--I do not wish to go," she said.

"I say you _must_. So tell Miss Lawrie you will," he answered, and his eyes flashed almost savagely upon her.

Rosamond waited for no more. She had discovered the impediment to his marrying. It was _hereditary insanity_, and she had seen the first signs of it in him herself! Magnanimously resolving never to tell a human being, nor let him be chained if she could help it, however furious he might become, she went down to Miss Lawrie, telling her she would go.

One week from that day was fixed upon for their departure, and during that time Rosamond was too much absorbed in dresses and finery to pay much heed to Mr. Browning. Of one thing she was sure, though--he was _crazy_; for what else made him stalk up and down the gravel-walk, his head bent forward, and his hands behind him, as if intently thinking.

Once, when she saw him thus, she longed to go out to him, to tell him she knew his secret, and that she would never leave him, however unmanageable he should become! But his manner toward her now was so strange that she dared not, and she was almost as glad as himself when at last the morning came for her to go.

"Promise me one thing," he said, as they stood together a moment alone. "Don't write until you hear from me, and don't come home until I send for you."

"And suppose the Lawries come, what then?" she asked, and he replied, "No matter; stay until I write. Here are five hundred dollars in case of an emergency," and he thrust a check into her hand.

"Stop," he continued, as the carriage came round--"did you put your clothes away where no one can see them, or are you taking them all with you?"

"Why, no, why should I?" she answered. "Ain't I coming back?"

"Yes, yes--Heaven only knows," he said. "Oh, Rosamond, it may be I am parting with you forever, and at such a moment, is it a sin for you to kiss me? You asked to do so once. Will you do it now?"

"I will," she replied, and she kissed, unhesitatingly, his quivering lips.

The Lawries were at the door--Mrs. Peters also--and forcing down his emotion, he bade her a calm good-by. The carriage rolled away, but ere its occupants were six miles from Riverside, every article of dress which had belonged to Rosamond had disappeared from her room, which presented the appearance of any ordinary bed-chamber, and when Mrs.

Peters, in great alarm, came to Mr. Browning, asking what he supposed had become of them, he answered quietly--"I have put them in my private closet and locked them up!"