Floyd Grandon's Honor Part 60

A soft rustle comes up the stairs, and she knows who stands in the doorway.

"Oh, are you ill?" Miss Murray kneels by the couch and tosses her hat aside. "How pale and wretched you look! Does your head ache?"

"Yes," Violet admits.

"And you were so well this morning! Where is everybody? What has become of Eugene?"

"They have all been talking business," says Violet, "and have gone----"

"I suppose Mr. Grandon told you long ago, like a good husband, but you have been very discreet. Papa and Mr. Haviland are to take the business, and I suppose I shall come to live at Grandon Park. I just adore it! I never had so nice a time anywhere. Did Eugene go with them?" abruptly flying round to the subject of most importance to her.

"I think not," Violet says, slowly.

"Let me bathe your forehead"; and the soft fingers touch her gently.

"Now, if I shut out the sun you may fall asleep. Don't get really ill!"

"I shall soon be better," Violet returns, faintly.

Miss Murray glides down-stairs, searches the porch, the summer-house, and the shady clump of trees. There is no Eugene visible. None of the gentlemen are home to lunch, but there are some calls to break the afternoon silence. Mrs. Grandon drives out. Violet has dressed herself and comes down, wan and white, making a pretext with some embroidery.

Cecil is to take tea with Elsie Latimer, a regular weekly invitation.

Pauline Murray fidgets. Her father has imparted some other knowledge, confidentially, that he shall not object to the young man for a son-in-law if his daughter so wills. She has stoutly declared that she does not mean to marry anybody, and her father has laughed, but a whole day without Eugene seems interminable. She has asked about him at least a dozen times. An awful fear fills Violet's soul. Is it right that Eugene should marry her with no real love in his heart for her? and if he does not--how will she take it? He _has_ been tender and lover-like, but how much of it was meant? Oh, why is the world all in a tangle? Her heart beats and her pulses throb, her lips are dry and feverish, and she has a presentiment of some ill or trouble to come. How will she meet Mr. Grandon? When she thinks of him she feels like a traitor.

The three return together, but Floyd goes to the stable to see about one of the carriage-horses slightly lamed, and when he comes Mr.

Haviland sits talking to Violet. Mr. Haviland is older than Mr. Murray, a tall, rather spare man, with gray hair and close-cropped gray beard, that give him a military air. A little color comes into her face, and Grandon remarks nothing amiss; indeed, she looks very pretty and interesting, as she sits talking of her father.

"Where is Eugene?" he asks presently, as he sees Mr. Murray and his daughter walking in the grounds.

It seems to Violet as if she must scream. Is _she_ his brother's keeper? Oh, what if--and it seems as if she must faint dead away at the horrible suspicion that he may never come back. No wonder her voice is tremulous. But even as she gasps for breath Eugene appears around the winding walk, and she is reprieved.

"What is the matter?" Floyd Grandon asks, startled by all these changes.

"My head aches."

"I thought Mrs. Grandon looked pale," says Mr. Haviland.

Miss Murray has caught sight of Eugene and waves a square of lace sewn around a centre of puzzling monogram. He has been desperate, moody, savage, and repentant by turns. He has meant to kneel at Violet's feet and confess his sins, and never love any other woman while the breath of life is in his handsome body. But the first is utterly impracticable, and after having been Miss Murray's devoted cavalier he cannot snub her in the face of all these eyes. He waves his hand and turns toward them, feeling that Violet is watching him and positively impelling him to this step; so he goes on and on to meet his fate. The cordial greeting of Mr. Murray, who thinks none the worse of him for his outburst of the morning, in a few words restores the easy footing of yesterday. Pauline smiles with winning tenderness; it does almost seem as if he was being crowded out of his rights, and there is enough to make amends. He sees it all; what does it matter? One never comes up to any high ideals, and ideals are for the most part tiresome, unattainable.

When the first bell rings they saunter up the path, Miss Murray on Eugene's arm. Her eyes have a kind of exultant softness; she has misread the pain and pallor of his face and her power of bringing back its warm, joyous tints, but ignorance is bliss. Violet looks up and meets the dark, questioning eyes, with their half-resolve, and Floyd Grandon intercepts it all. Why does she turn so deadly pale?

He says something about making ready for dinner, and they all go up-stairs, leaving her with Cecil. She has that curious, transfixed feeling, as though when she moved she was in a dream. Floyd Grandon has seen her sad, shy, quiet, gay, joyous, and in almost every mood but this. What is it? he wonders. Eugene's eyes wander stealthily now and then, and when she catches them a s.h.i.+ver goes over her.

To-night Cecil is unusually wakeful and very amusing to Mr. Murray.

They all sit on the porch and discuss business. Mr. Wilmarth is likely to make a good deal of trouble. To-morrow, it seems, they are to meet at the lawyer's and the matter is to be put in process of settlement.

The new partners are in haste to get to work.

At last Violet is glad to rise and bid them good evening. Mr. Murray finally obtains a kiss from Cecil, and is triumphant over so rare a victory.

At the top of the stairs a hand is laid on Violet's arm.

"It was fate," pleads Eugene, weakly, "and your wish. I saw it in your eyes."

"Love her," she answers, with a convulsive s.h.i.+ver,--"love her with your whole soul."

Floyd Grandon knows who entered the hall a moment ago and who now emerges in the soft light.

CHAPTER XXVII.

You have heard with what toil Secunder penetrated to the land of darkness, and that, after all, he did not taste the water of immortality.--SAADI.

The three men talk late. The two young people on the porch have no duenna, for Mrs. Grandon retired early,--indeed, she has left Miss Murray quite to Violet, and she thinks if Eugene lets slip this chance he will be foolish above what is written. He plays at love,--it is no new thing for him,--but he convinces "Polly" without any actual questions and answers that he cares for her, and the next morning there is a delicate little triumph in her demeanor, a tender overflow of pity, as if, after all, she might not take him, and then he would be heart-broken.

Violet is much better. She thrusts her secret out of sight, and Floyd is brief and business-like, something more, but he would be much too proud to own it.

"Violet," he says, "you must go to Mr. Sherburne's with me this morning. Your father deputed that gentleman and myself to act in your behalf if at any time we should have an offer to dispose of his inventions. His dream has been more than realized, and I am glad to have it go into the hands of men who will do justice to it. I shall also dispose of the share in the factory, and that part will be settled."

"Eugene----" she says, with a certain tremulousness, and she cannot keep the color out of her face. "Will he be--will----"

"I have advised Eugene to dispose of his part. He has no head, no desire, and no ambition for business. But whatever he does, it is now in my power to settle my father's estate, and I shall be glad to do it."

There is a discernible hardness in his voice. She seems to shrink a little from him, and he feels strangely resentful.

Mrs. Grandon has a talk with her son before he goes. The new firm have made her an offer to pay down a certain amount, or, if she insists, the stated income shall be kept for the present.

"I certainly should take their offer," says Floyd. "Your income will not be as large, but on the one hand it would die with you, and on the other you are more independent. I will add to it ten thousand dollars."

"You are very kind," she says, with a touch of grat.i.tude. "But Eugene will be thrown out of business, and your father _did_ hope it would remain in the family. He was so proud of his standing."

"I have counselled and besought Eugene, and it is pouring water in a sieve."

"He should have married Violet," she says, in a tone that avenges madame. "If you had waited----"

Floyd is deathly pale for an instant. If he _had_ waited. If this useless money could belong to Eugene.

"You will be ready this afternoon," and he leaves the room.

Has he defrauded his brother? He could have held out a hope to the dying man and temporized. As his ward, Eugene might have come to admire her, or been tempted by the fortune. He hates himself that he can put her in any scale with mere money, and yet, does she not care for Eugene? What has the varying moods of the last six weeks meant, if not that? What the little interchange of glances last night? Curiously enough, Mr. Murray is quite taken with Eugene. Perhaps the elder brother does not do full justice to the fascinations of the younger.

Has he been too tried and vexed and suspected, until his whole nature is warped and soured? Perhaps he is unfit for civilization, for domestic life in the realms of culture and fas.h.i.+on, and he wishes with much bitterness of spirit that he was back in his congenial wilds and deserts.

Violet is waiting for him, attired faultlessly. She looks pale and troubled, he can see that, and the sweet, frank expression with which she has always challenged his glance is no longer there. It is not altogether suspicion, but she really _does_ evade his glance. She has the miserable secret of a third person, that, if known, might work incalculable harm, and she must keep it sacred. Beside, she is training herself to believe that Eugene will recover from his ill-fated pa.s.sion and truly love Pauline Murray.

"Are you ready?" Grandon briefly asks, and hands her to the carriage.

The drive is quite silent. They find all the parties engaged at Mr.

Sherburne's, and proceed at once to business. On behalf of Messrs.