Victor's Triumph Part 48

"Oh, Mary, my love, my lady, you will keep your promise? You will be mine to-day?" he pleaded.

"I will be yours within two hours--upon one condition."

"Name it--name it!" he eagerly exclaimed.

"You must not marry me under your own name, but under that of Alden Lytton."

When she had said this, she stole a glance at him to see how he took it, and she was somewhat abashed by the look of unutterable amazement on the honest face of the young man.

"Come, what do you say to that?" she inquired.

"My dear Mary, what an astounding proposition!" he exclaimed.

"But you will agree to it?"

He was silent.

"You will agree to this, because you love me," she added.

But he continued silent and very sad.

"You will agree to do this for the sake of making me your wife?" she persisted.

"My dearest Mary, it is impossible!" he answered, with a painful effort.

"There! I knew it! Say no more! You professed great love for me once.

You were willing to do, dare, or die for me, if necessary. You wished me to put you to the test, to _try_ you, as you called it; yet, the very first time I have tested your sincerity, you have failed me, as I foresaw that you would. Good-bye, Mr. Craven Kyte. We part here, and we part forever," said Mary Grey, with cold contempt, as she turned away from him.

"No, no, no--for Heaven's sake, no!" cried the young man, piteously. "Do not leave me so suddenly. Give me time to think. Oh, I can not part with you! I must--must have you at any cost!" he muttered to himself.

She stopped and contemplated him as with scornful pity.

"Come--come into the square here and sit down. Let us talk this matter over. Pray do! Oh, I can not lose you so!" he pleaded, seizing her hand.

"Well, I will go in and sit on one of those benches for a few moments, and give you the opportunity of recovering your place in my confidence,"

she said, with a sort of contemptuous pity, as she turned and entered the square.

He followed her immediately, and they sat down together.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

A WICKED WEDDING.

Bid me to leap From off the battlements of yonder tower And I will do it.

--SHAKESPEARE.

"Now tell me what you wish me to do, and why you wish me to do it," said the lover, submissively.

"I have already told you _what_ I wish you to do. _Why_ I wish you to do it must remain my secret for the present. You must trust me. Oh, Craven," she added, suddenly changing her tone to one of soft, sorrowful pleading, "why will you not trust me, when I am about to trust you with the happiness of my whole future life?"

"I do trust you! I trust you, as I love you, without limit!" answered the poor fellow, almost weeping.

"Ah, you _say_ you do, yet you refuse to do as I wish you," sorrowfully replied the siren.

"I refuse no longer! I will do anything in the world you wish me to do with joy, if in that way I can have you for my own," he declared, with tearful emphasis.

"I knew you would. You are a dear, good, true heart, and I love you more than life!" she said, giving his arm a squeeze. "Listen, now."

He became suddenly all devoted attention, as she artfully unfolded to him just as much of her nefarious plan as was absolutely necessary to secure his co-operation in it. The whole of her scheme in all its diabolical wickedness she dared not expose to his honest soul.

She told him now that she had set her mind on a harmless practical joke, to win a wager with Emma Cavendish.

She said that he must so with her to see the Rev. Mr. Borden, rector of St. ---- Church, and ask him to perform the marriage ceremony between them, and that he must give his own name as Mr. Alden Lytton, attorney at law, Richmond, Virginia, and give her name as it was--Mrs. Mary Grey, of the same city. And that they must be married under those names.

The young man stared until his black eyes looked big as old Booth's in the last scene of "Richard."

"But why?" he inquired.

"A practical joke, I tell you. Ah, how hard you are to manage! Why can you not trust me through a little mystery like this--a little practical joke like this?"

"I _do_ trust you; but I am afraid that it might seem like a practical forgery to be married under another person's name," he replied.

"Nonsense! Do you think that I could be such an idiot as to implicate you in any act that might be construed into forgery, practical or otherwise?" she inquired, with a light laugh.

"Oh, no, certainly you are not the lady to do that!" he admitted.

"Well, then, what next? You look as solemn as a judge or an owl!"

"I am afraid, also, that if I should be married under any other name than my own our marriage itself might turn out to be nothing more than a practical joke instead of a legal union."

"Mr. Kyte!" she suddenly exclaimed, with her eyes flas.h.i.+ng fire. "You insult me! Am I the sort of woman that would compromise my good name in a marriage of doubtful legality?"

"Oh, no; certainly you would not! Nor did I mean that. I earnestly beg your pardon!" said Craven, penitently.

"You are a silly gander, and a dear, darling duck of a boy! And I love you! But you must understand that I know what I am about. And you must trust me--you must trust me; and, once for all, you must _trust_ me!"

she said, archly, giving his arm another squeeze.

"I do--I do! Come; shall we be going? I am on the rack till our wedding is over."

"Yes; but we must take a cab. The distance is a long one."

"There is a cab-stand a couple of blocks from here. I noticed it as I came along. We will take one there, if you please."

She a.s.sented, and they walked on to the stand and engaged a cab.