The Shadow of a Sin

"I should have let the man die," replied her sister. "Self-preservation is the first law of nature. I would not have lost my home, friends, character, lover, and, above all, the chance of being Lady Chandon of Chandon Court, to save the life of any man;" and Mildred Dartelle laughed at the notion of such heroism.

"This girl did. Aubrey says that when Lord Chandon speaks of her it is as though she had done something no other woman could do. All the men are the same. Major Elton said he would give his right hand to see her. What nonsense!"

"Then does Lord Chandon care for her still?" asked Mildred.

"Not as a lover, I should imagine. He affects the greatest admiration for her, and talks of her incessantly; but I should not think he would ever marry a girl who had compromised herself – besides, he cannot find her. She disappeared after the trial, and the general impression seems to be that she is dead. I will teach him to forget her. You shall come to Chandon Court when I am mistress there, and perhaps we may find a rich husband for you."

"Many thanks," returned Mildred; "perhaps I may find one before you do. Who knows? If Lord Chandon has been so much in love, I do not see how you can hope that he will ever care for you."

"We shall see. Time works wonders."

And then Veronica stood up and looked over the governess's shoulders. "This is beautifully done," she said; "but you have not done much – and how your fingers tremble! How pale you are too! Surely you are not ill again, Miss Holte?" she added, impatiently.

"I am quite well," answered Hyacinth, coldly; and then with an iron will she put back the surging thoughts and memories that were gradually overcoming her. "I will think when I am alone," she said to herself – "now I must work." And work she did – so well that in a short time the sketch was almost completed. Presently Veronica came up to her again, and took the pencil from her hands.

"I must do a little," she said; and she finished some of the shading, and then signed her initials in the corner – "V. D." – and laughed as she did so.

"If Lord Chandon praises the sketch, Miss Holte," she said, "I will repeat his compliments to you. He cannot help being pleased with it, it is so beautifully done. You are a true artist."

"I am glad that you are pleased with it," Hyacinth replied.

And then she began to wonder. She had often been out sketching with Adrian, and he had given her many valuable hints. Would he recognize her pencil? Would it be possible? And then she laughed to herself, and said it was only an idle fear – only her nervous imagination that troubled her.

If what they said was true – and they had no motive for speaking falsely – Adrian did not hate her – he did not even despise her. He had called her true and brave; he had spoken of her with admiration and with tears in his eyes. Ah, thank Heaven for that! Her heart had almost withered believing in his contempt. She knew his estimation of women to be so high that she had not believed it possible he could do anything but hate her. Yet he did not hate her. Tears such as she had not shed since her troubles fell like rain from her eyes – tears that cooled the cruel fever, that were like healing drops. It seemed as though one-half her sorrow had vanished – Adrian did not hate her.

Life would be a thousand times easier now. She felt that no greater happiness could have been bestowed upon her than to know that he thought well of her. Of course, as Miss Dartelle said, he could never marry her – she had compromised herself. The old sweet tie between them could never be renewed. Less than ever now could she bear the thought of meeting him; but the sharpest sting of her pain was gone – he did not hate her.

She was still dead to him, but how much lighter the load was to her. His hatred and contempt had weighed her to the very earth – had bowed her beautiful head in unutterable shame. That was all gone now; he knew the worst there was to know of her, and yet he had called her brave and true. He had mourned for her, he liked to talk about her, and they all believed her dead.

"So I am, my darling," she sobbed; "I would not make myself known for all the world. In time you will forget me and learn to be happy with some one else. I would not be so selfish as to let you know that I am living. He will love me dead – he will forget all my errors, and remember only that I cared for him so much more than any one can care. I little thought, a few weeks since, that so much happiness was in store for me. I have looked upon his face again; and I know that he speaks kindly of me. I shall never see him more, but my life will be brighter."

The rest of that day passed like a tranquil dream; a deep sweet calm had fallen over her, the hot flush dried from her face, her eyes lost their unnatural brilliancy. Little Clara, looking at her governess, said:

"How beautiful you are, Miss Holte! You look as though you had been talking to angels."

"So I have," she replied; "the angels of comfort and peace."

That night Hyacinth slept, and when she stood before her glass the next morning so much of her beauty had been restored to her that she blushed as she looked at herself. On this eventful morning Clara was not well.

"Let us go down to the shore," she begged; "I cannot learn any lesson or do anything until we have been there."

The young governess complied with the child's wish. It was not nine o'clock when they left the house.

"The sea is rough this morning," said Clara. "Do you hear how hollow the sound of the waves is? I like high waves – they are all foam."

They hurried down to the shore. The waves ran high; they broke on the sands in great sheets of foam; they seemed to be contesting with each other which should be highest and which should be swiftest.

"I am sure they are playing, Miss Holte," cried the child, clapping her hands for joy. "Let us sit down and watch them."

"I am afraid it is too cold for you to sit down; I must wrap you in my shawl and hold you in my arms, Clara."

So they sat, the child crying out with delight when one wave higher than the others broke at their feet. The fresh salt breeze brought a lovely color into Hyacinth's face, and there were peace and serenity in the depths of her beautiful eyes. Governess and pupil were suddenly startled by seeing a gentleman hastening to them across the sands. The child sprung from the gentle arms that encircled her.

"It is my brother," she cried, "my brother Aubrey!"

The gentleman caught the little figure in his arms.

"I thought it was a mermaid, Clara – upon my word I did. What are you doing here?"

"We came to watch the waves – Miss Holte and I both love the waves."

Sir Aubrey looked round, and with some difficulty repressed a cry of astonishment as his eyes fell upon Hyacinth's lovely face. He raised his hat and turned to his little sister. "You must introduce me, Clara," he said. The child smiled.

"I do not know how to introduce people," she returned, with a happy little laugh. "Miss Holte, this is my big brother, Aubrey – Aubrey, this is Miss Holte, and I love her with all my heart."

They both laughed at the quaint introduction.

"This is charming, Clara. Now, may I stay for a few minutes and watch the waves with you?"

"You must ask Miss Holte," said the child.

"Miss Holte, will you give me the required permission?" he inquired.

"You must ask Lady Dartelle, Sir Aubrey," she replied, "we are supposed to take our walks by ourselves."

The blush and the smile made her so attractive that without another word Sir Aubrey sat down by her side. He was careful to keep Clara in his arms lest Miss Holte should take her by the hand and retire. "How is it, Miss Holte," he said, "that I have not had the pleasure of seeing you before?"

"I do not know," she replied, "unless it is because my duties have never brought me into the part of the house where you, Sir Aubrey, happened to be."

"I knew Clara had a governess but I did not know – " that she was young and beautiful, he was about to add; but one look at the lovely face checked the words on his lips. "I did not know anything more," he said. "Are you in the habit of coming to the shore every morning?"

"Yes," said Clara, "we love the waves."

"I wish I were a wave," said Sir Aubrey, laughingly.

The child looked up at him with great solemn eyes. "Why, brother?" she asked.

"Because then you would love me."

"I love you now," said Clara, clasping her arms around his neck and kissing his face.

"You are a dear, loving little child," he said, and his voice was so sincere that Miss Holte forgot her shyness and looked at him.

He was a tall, stately gentleman; not handsome, but with a face of decision and truth. He had frank, clear eyes, a good mouth, with kindly lines about it, a quantity of clustering hair, and a brown beard. It was a true, good face, and the young governess liked him at once. Nothing in his appearance, however, caused her to take such a deep interest in him, but solely the fact that he was Adrian's friend.

Perhaps even that very morning he had been conversing with Adrian – had, perhaps touched his hand. She knew for certain that Adrian had spoken to him of her. Her beautiful eyes lingered on his face as though she would fain read all his thoughts. On his part, Sir Aubrey Dartelle was charmed with the young governess. He said to himself that he had never seen any one half so fair, half so lovely; and he vowed to himself that it should not be his fault if he did not meet her again.

CHAPTER XXXIII