My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester

"Could you—would you—tell me her lover's name?" he pleaded; but Lizzie answered that it would not be right to betray her friend's confidence.

"He was a rich young man, and not likely to marry my poor friend," she added sorrowfully, and after that admission he could extract no more from Lizzie.

With a sad heart he returned to the Clarkes' with his ill news.

Mr. Clarke was terribly excited:

"I will not believe she has gone with any man! I should sooner believe that that old hag has made way with the girl! Give me the address, Devereaux, and I will go and wring the truth from her black heart, if you will stay and cheer my wife while I am gone!" he exclaimed, springing up in passionate excitement.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE BRIDAL

Dolly Dorr arrived duly that afternoon at the Devereaux mansion, her little head full of fancies as vain as Roma's—both dreaming of winning the same man.

But when Dolly saw her hero's magnificent home her hopes began to fall a little. She began to comprehend that there were heights she could not reach. Miss Roma would be sure to get him back now—of course, she had come there for that purpose.

Dolly felt as angry and disappointed as was possible to one of her limited brain capacity, but she hid her feelings and tried to attend to her various duties as Roma's maid.

She saw that her mistress was subtly changed since she had left Cliffdene. A harrowing anxiety gleamed in her eyes, and when they were alone Roma was more irritable than she had ever seen her before.

The reason was not far to seek. Jesse Devereaux had returned a while ago with news that nearly drove her mad.

It was the story of her mother's rescue yesterday by Liane Lester, and the consequent resolve to adopt Liane as a daughter.

Roma listened to him with the most fixed attention; she did not move or speak, but sat dumbly with her great, shining eyes fixed on his face, drinking in every word with the most eager attention.

Inwardly she was furious, outwardly calm and interested, and at the last she said, with marvelous sweetness:

"You have almost taken my breath away with surprise. So I am to have a sister to dispute my reign over papa's and mamma's hearts! How shall I bear it?"

He was astonished at the equanimity she displayed. She had a better heart than he had thought.

"So you do not care?" he exclaimed curiously.

"What does it matter whether I care or not? No one loves poor Roma now!" she sighed, with a glance of sad reproach.

The conversation had taken a reproachful turn, and he adroitly changed it.

"But I had not told you all. Your parents' good intentions must come to naught, for the reason that Miss Lester went away mysteriously last night, and the cause of her disappearance is supposed to be an elopement."

"Oh! With whom?"

Roma's attempt at surprise was not very successful.

"No one knows," he replied, and she exclaimed:

"How sorry poor mamma will be!"

"And you?" he asked curiously.

Roma had drawn so close to him that she could speak in an undertone. She locked her jeweled fingers nervously together now in her lap, and lifted her great eyes to his, full of piercing reproach, murmuring sadly:

"It does not matter to me either way, Jesse. I have lost interest in everything, now that you have turned against me!"

It was most embarrassing, her pathetic grief, and it touched his manly heart with deepest pity.

"My dear girl, I am sorry you take our estrangement so hardly! Believe me, I have not turned against you, as you think. I am still sincerely your friend," he answered, most kindly.

But the great red-brown eyes searched his face with passion.

"Oh, Jesse, I do not want your friendship! I want your love—the love I threw away in the madness of a moment! Give it back to me!" she cried, with outstretched hands pleading to him.

Impulsively he took one of the jeweled hands in his, holding it nervously yet kindly while he said:

"It is cruel kindness to undeceive you, Roma, but I cannot let you go on hoping for what can never be! You never had my heart's love, Roma. It was only an ephemeral fancy that is long since dead. I thought you wished to flirt with me, and I entered into it with languid amusement. Somehow—I never can quite understand how—I drifted into a proposal. I regretted it directly afterward, and realized that my heart was not really interested. You broke our engagement, and I was glad of it. Forgive my frankness and let us be friends!"

But her face dropped into her hands with a choking sob, her whole frame shaking with emotion, and he could only gaze upon her in silent sympathy, feeling himself a brute that he could not give the love she craved.

Roma remained several moments in this attitude of hopeless grief, then, rising with her handkerchief to her eyes, glided slowly past him—so slowly that he might have clasped her in outstretched arms had he chosen.

But he remained mute and motionless, sorrow and sympathy in his heart, but nothing more.

Sobbing forlornly, Roma passed him by, and went to her own room.

There Dolly had an exhibition of her imperious temper, culminating in a threat to slap her face.

Dolly's quick temper flamed up, and she retorted fiercely:

"Slap me if you dare, and I'll leave your service on the spot! Yes, and I'll go and tell Mr. Devereaux the fate of his letter to Liane Lester, too! I—I—wish I hadn't never had anything to do with you, either. I'm sorry I treated sweet Liane so mean! She was a heap nicer than you!"

Roma turned around quickly, holding out a pretty ring with a little diamond in it.

"Don't leave me, Dolly; at least, not yet," she sighed mournfully. "I'm sorry I was cross to you. Forgive me, and let's be friends again. Take this little ring to remember me, for I shall never need it after to-night!"

"What do you mean, Miss Roma?" cried the girl, slipping the ring coquettishly over her finger, but Roma threw herself face downward on a sofa without replying.

Dolly went into another room to arrange the clothes she had brought her mistress, and to admire herself occasionally in a long pier glass, and so the time slipped past, and in the gloaming Roma's voice called faintly:

"Dolly!"

"Yes, miss."

Roma was standing up, very pale, very tragic-looking, by the couch, in her hands a letter and a tiny vial of colored liquid.

"Dolly, you are to take this letter to Mr. Devereaux and ask his sister to come with him to my room. Tell them both I have swallowed poison, and shall be dead in a few minutes!"

Dolly snatched the letter and ran shrieking from the room, while Roma sank back on the couch, her eyes half closed, her face death-white, the vial of poison, half drained, clasped in her fingers.