A Hero of the Pen

"I know it!" returned Alison, not moving from his place. "And Professor Fernow is coming in any event," continued Atkins, with marked emphasis.

Henry glanced at him calmly. "Do you know this so certainly?"

"He surely will not remain away from a reception that is especially designed for him."

"He will not come!" said Alison coolly. "After what has passed between us, he does not enter this house while my betrothed remains in it, or I do not understand the German sentiment of honor."

Atkins looked at him doubtfully. "Well, I was not a witness of your interview," he said. "You must know what is to be expected of him; but if he really remains away are you just as sure of Miss Forest?"

Henry did not answer; he merely smiled in his ill-omened way.

"Supposing she should refuse to fulfil her promise to you?"

"She will not refuse."

Atkins did not seem to share his decided conviction. "You may find yourself in error," he said. "Jane is no longer in that hollow stupor that was upon her at our first arrival in B. She is silent as usual, but I know that all her strength of mind is now directed towards one conclusion; and this conclusion will hardly be blind submission to your will. Look before you!"

Henry smiled again, and it was with almost a sympathetic glance he looked down upon the man who warned him.

"And do you really believe I would have gone on my travels, and have calmly remained half a year away, if I had not previously secured myself on all sides?–I challenged Professor Fernow; he put me off until the end of the war; his promise now binds him, and as the injured man, the first shot is due me. Miss Foster knows this; she knows also that I will shoot him down, if she does not unconditionally submit to what I think best. The choice was given her at that time when the death of her brother led her to ask from me a delay of the marriage until the proper period of morning had expired. I allowed her ample time, for I knew that I need fear no change of her mind. His life was at stake! Through that apprehension I hold her more firmly than by a tenfold cord; she will not venture to resist my will, not even by a word; she knows the price of his safety."

Atkins gazed at him almost in horror. "And will you really force her consent in this way? Be on your guard, Henry! Jane is no woman to allow herself patiently to be sacrificed; she will revenge her blighted happiness upon you. You purchase that longed-for million with hell in your house."

Alison's lips curled in scorn. "Give yourself no anxiety as to our future married happiness, Mr. Atkins! I believe that I am in all respects a match for my future wife.–But it must be time for us to go to Doctor Stephen's. May I ask you to get ready?"

Atkins lingered a moment. "Henry," he said entreatingly, "whatever may happen between you two, spare Jane; she has fearfully suffered in these last months."

"Has she spared me?" asked Alison with an icy coldness. "The proud Miss Forest would have cast me aside as a worthless burden, had not another's life rested in my hands. Now I have the power and I will use it; the obstinate woman shall yield to me at my price!"

Atkins sighed deeply as he went into the next room for his hat and gloves. "What a marriage this will be! God pity us when these two are man and wife!" he said.

CHAPTER XXXII.

The Brand from the Burning

The formal part of the visit at Doctor Stephen's house was over. Alison had saluted the doctor and his wife, and exchanged with them the inevitable polite phrases, questions and answers; but this time he betrayed no glowing impatience to shorten the interview; he waited calmly until Atkins ended it, and conducted him to Jane, who although she knew of his arrival, had remained in her chamber.

Here, too, there was a cold, polite greeting, a few words in relation to the journey, the arrival, the different places of interest on the route; then Atkins withdrew. Henry and Jane were left alone.

She again sat opposite him as at that time when he had sued for her hand; but she was paler than then; she had become so much paler during this winter, but in this long space, she had regained complete mastery over herself. Her head was again upright, her features firm and cold, and her eyes met his with the old glance of defiance. This was not the bearing of intimidation or submission: Atkins was right; she would dare one more last conflict.

"Why this useless struggle? I will not let you go!"

Perhaps Jane read this thought in his face, for her brow grew dark, and her lips compressed. These two beings so soon to be united forever, stood now as hostilely arrayed, the one against the other, as if this were to be a struggle for life or death. Both knew it, they were equals in energy, in strength of will, in inflexibility; not a foot's-breadth would one yield to the other, and now it remained to be proved whose will was the stronger.

Henry had already arranged his tactics; he enveloped himself wholly in that cold politeness she had shown at the first greeting.

"I come, Miss Forest," he said, "to demand the fulfilment of a promise which I received a year ago, and which was repeated to me in this place. Your time of mourning for young Mr. Forest must now be at an end, and I must beg you to name the day for our union. Mr. Atkins wishes exact information so as to arrange all formalities for the marriage, and I too have various preparations to make for our departure. We had decided upon the first of next month; but the day and the hour, as well as the manner of the ceremony, are of course left to your decision. I await your commands."

Jane sighed deeply. He had entered upon the subject in a masterly way; he had made all evasion impossible, but still he was not to win the victory so easily.

"You have my promise, Mr. Alison, it is true, and I am ready to fulfil it, if, after what has come to your knowledge, you dare demand such a thing."

Word and glance, alike ineffectual, glided off from the icy indifference with which Alison had armed himself. He remained perfectly calm.

"And why should I not dare to demand a hand which was freely promised me, and would just as freely have been mine, if it had not been for that–episode, which is of very little import in my eyes? Miss Forest is too precious a treasure to be sacrificed for a mere romantic infatuation. I, at least, have no mind to make any such sacrifice."

"You forget one thing!"–Jane's voice involuntarily betrayed the fearful excitement that had taken possession of her whole being.–"Hitherto, you have had the power to torture me, but from the moment of our marriage, that power will fall to me. A woman can become a curse to her husband, if he has taught her to hate where she ought to love.–Force me to this marriage, and I become such a curse to you!"

But even this threat, so defiantly hurled at him, glanced powerless from that smooth, icy calm; Henry smiled at this as he had before smiled at Atkins' words.

"I hardly think we shall continue upon American soil, this romance, into which German sentimentality has drawn us against our will; the atmosphere there is not suited to such extravagances, we had better leave them behind here. I am convinced that Mrs. Alison will as brilliantly represent my house, and as unconditionally play the first role in the social circles of our city, as Miss Forest once did. To enable her to do this, she will find surroundings worthy of her, and a husband whose name and position will do her honor. Our marriage could certainly never have become a shepherd's idyl, and it need not become a tragedy; if you, Miss, have an intention to play a tragic part here, you will have to do so alone; for myself, I have not the slightest capability for such roles."

Jane trembled under this irony; she felt that Henry was not accessible on this side, and she felt also, that he was now making her atone for the haughty "I will not," she had once flung at him. Not in vain had Atkins warned her against this man, who never forgot nor forgave an injury even though he appeared so to do. He was now seeking his revenge, and Jane knew that she could reckon upon no pity; but this certainty, all at once, gave back her presence of mind. She rose resolute and cold, and there was an expression of contempt upon her lips. She must have foreseen the uselessness of this last effort; she had other, and in her opinion, more infallible weapons at command.

"Before we dwell upon this point," she said, "I beg you listen to a proposal I am about to make you."

Henry also had risen; he bowed assent.

"You know that since my brother's death, I have become sole heir to my father's fortune. His will also gives me full, lawful control of all."

"Certainly!" returned Henry, in astonishment, he had no idea where this would end.

"Well, then, I am ready to make over to you the whole fortune as the price of my freedom."

Alison started back, he had all at once become pale, and his glance, with a mysterious, threatening expression, fixed itself full upon her face.

Jane stepped hastily to her writing-desk, and drew a paper from a portfolio lying there.

"I have already drawn up the necessary paper; you will see from it that I keep back nothing except what is in my hands at this moment. It is a sum sufficient to afford me a support here in Germany, but scarcely worth mention in comparison with that which will fall to your share. The legal execution of this may take place any day, whenever you wish; the transaction naturally remains a secret to all save those immediately interested. I offer you all I possess; only leave me free!"

She reached him the paper. Silently Alison took it from her hands, silently he read it through; the paleness of his face grew yet deeper, and the paper rustled strangely in his hands. At last he laid it deliberately upon the table, and crossed his arms.

"Before all else, I request you, Miss Forest, to change the tone in which you see fit to speak to me. One does not meet a man who holds one's whole future in his hands, with such–contempt."

A hasty flush passed over Jane's face; her voice had unwittingly betrayed her sentiments as she made this proposal. "I do not see," she replied, "why we should seek to deceive each other. You won me for my fortune and hold fast the hand upon which it depends. I would relieve you from a troublesome appendage to this fortune, and myself from a hated tie. You are merchant enough to appreciate the advantages of my offer; and I have lived long enough in America to take into account the value it will be to you there."

Jane did not dream what a fearful game she was playing at this moment, and she did not suffer herself to be warned by the low, hissing sound that again came from Henry's lips, as upon that evening, when he had listened to her conversation with Walter. His calmness quite deceived her.

"I doubt it, Miss Jane; your proposal is too German for that. With us, at home, one does not throw away a million to escape a marriage! Besides, I scarce believe that you clearly understand what it means for one like you, reared in the lap of riches, to be really poor!"

Jane proudly lifted her head. "My father was once poor," she said, "and he thought nothing of sacrificing position and a future, for the joys of freedom; I give up his riches for like object. I too would be free!"

"Would you really?" Alison fixed his penetrating glance upon her, and there was a tone of annihilating irony in his voice. "And besides, do you think that in case of necessity you could live upon a professor's salary? May I ask if Herr Fernow has a share in this romantic decision? If not, I advise you not to assume too much from his ideality. The heroine of his romance was an heiress, and his sentiments might grow cold if she were suddenly to appear before him poor."

Jane eyes flashed; she forgot all discretion, forgot how fearfully this man had once already made her atone for an insult; his irony robbed her of all self-control.

"Do not measure such a nature by your own standard, Mr. Alison! Walter Fernow is not your equal!" she said.