Dangerous Ground Part 46

"Oh, Leslie, don't!" cried Winnie, flinging herself down beside her friend. "We cannot always control our hearts; and indeed, dear, _I_ do not blame you for loving him. Leslie," lowering her voice softly, "it is no sin for you to love him, now."

"No sin!" Leslie's voice was regaining its calmness, but not its icy tone. "Winnie, _you_ can say that? Ah! a woman _can_ read a woman's heart, and I have read yours: you love Alan Warburton."

"I? no, no!"

"I say yes; and but for your Quixotic notions of loyalty and friends.h.i.+p, you would be his promised wife to-day. Winnie, listen; having begun another confession I will make my confidence entire. I never dreamed that you or--or Alan, guessed my horrible folly. I did not come to intrust to your keeping that dead secret. You tell me that it is no sin to love Alan now. Winnie, the greatest sin of my life has been that I promised to marry Archibald Warburton without loving him. But, at least, I was heart-free then; I cared for no other. We were betrothed three months before Alan came home, and I--. But let that pa.s.s; it is the crowning-point of my humiliation. I did love Alan Warburton. If I loved him still, I could not say this so calmly. Winnie, believe me; that madness is over. To-day Alan Warburton is to me--my husband's brother, nothing more; just as I am nothing, in his eyes, save a woman who wears with ill grace the proud name of Warburton. This may seem strange to you. It will not appear so strange when you hear what I am about to tell. Alan Warburton's egotism has cured me effectually. I am free from that folly, thank Heaven, but I shall never cease to hate myself for it.

And my humiliation is now complete, since you tell me that Alan knew of my madness. But, Winnie, this is not what I came to tell you. I have another secret, dear, but this one is not like the other, a sin of my own making. It is a story of the craftiness of others, and of my weakness--yes, wickedness."

"Hush, Leslie," said Winnie impetuously, "I won't hear you talk of wickedness. I am glad you no longer care for Alan; and as for me, I just hate him; the detestable, stiff-necked--pshaw, don't talk as if you had wronged _him_!"

There is a movement of the heavy curtains that separate this bower from the library. Some one is approaching, but Leslie, unaware of this near presence, answers sadly:

"Ah, Winnie, you don't know all. I have dared to unite myself to the haughty house of Warburton; to take upon myself a name old, honored and unsullied, and to drag that name--"

A sound close at hand causes them both to start. They lift their eyes to see, pale and erect among the roses and lilies and trailing vines, wearing upon his handsome face a look of mingled sadness and scorn--Alan Warburton.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

FLINT TO STEEL.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Alan Warburton spoke.

"Much as I desire to hear that sentence completed, Mrs. Warburton, I could do no less than interrupt."

Leslie dropped Winnie's hand and rose slowly, moving with a stately grace toward the entrance before which Alan stood. And Winnie, with a wrathful glance at the intruder, flung aside a handful of loose leaves with an impatient motion, and followed her friend.

But Alan, making no effort to conceal his hostile feelings, still stood before the entrance, and again addressed Leslie.

"May I detain you for a moment, Mrs. Warburton?"

Leslie paused before him with a face as haughty as his own, and bowed her a.s.sent. Then she drew back and looked at Winnie, who, with a gesture meant to be imperious, commanded Alan to stand aside.

"Will you remain, Miss French?" asked Alan, but moving aside with a courtly bow.

"No; I won't," retorted the irate little lady. "I don't like the change of climate. I'm going up stairs for my furs and a foot-warmer--ugh!"

And casting upon him a final glance of scorn, she dashed aside the curtains, and they heard the door of the library close sharply behind her.

For a moment they regarded each other silently. Since the night of that fateful masquerade they had not exchanged words, except such commonplaces as were made necessary by the presence of a third person.

Now they were both prepared for a final reckoning: he with stern resolve stamped upon every feature; she with desperate defiance in look and manner.

"I think," she said, with a movement toward the _portierie_, "that our conversation had better be continued there."

He bowed a stately a.s.sent, and held back the curtains while she pa.s.sed into the library.

She crossed the room with slow, graceful movements, and pausing before the hearth, turned her face toward him.

Feeling to her heart's core the humiliation brought by the knowledge that this man, her accuser, had fathomed the secret of her past love for him; with the thought of the Francoises' threat ever before her--Leslie Warburton stood there hopeless, desolate, desperate. She had ceased to struggle with her fate. She had resolved to meet the worst, and to brave it. She was the woman without hope, but she was every inch a queen, her head haughtily poised, her face once more frozen into pallid tranquility.

Standing thus, she was calm, believing that she had drained her bitter cup to its very dregs; that Fate could have no more poisoned arrows in store for her.

Ah, if she had known that her bitterest draught was yet to be quaffed; that the deadliest wound was yet to be inflicted!

She made no effort to break the silence that fell between them; she would not aid him by a word.

Comprehending this, after a moment of waiting, he said:

"Madam, believe me, I have no desire to do you an injustice. I have purposely avoided this interview, wis.h.i.+ng, while my dead brother remained among us, to spare you for his sake. Now, however, it is my duty to fathom the mystery in which you have chosen to envelop yourself.

What have you to say?"

"That, knowing his duty so well, Mr. Alan Warburton will do it, undoubtedly." And she bowed with ironical courtesy.

"And you still persist in your refusal to explain?"

"On the contrary, I am quite at your service."

She smiled as she said these words. At least she could humble the pride of this superior being, and she would have this small morsel of revenge.

Her answer astonished him. His surprise was manifest. And she favored him with a frosty smile as she asked:

"What is it that my brother-in-law desires to know?"

"The truth," he replied sternly. "What took you to that vile den on the night of your masquerade? Are those Francoises the people you have so frequently visited by stealth? Are they your clandestine correspondents?"

"Your questions come too fast," she retorted calmly. "I will reverse the order of my answers. The Francoises _are_ my clandestine correspondents. My visits by stealth, have all been paid to them. It was a threat that took me there that eventful night."

"A threat?"

"Yes."

"Then you are in their power?"

"I was."

"And their sway has ceased?"

"It has ceased."

"Since when?"

"Since the receipt of this."

She took from her pocket the crumpled note, and held it out to him.

He read it with his face blanching.