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Cynthia Wakeham's Money

Page 33

by Anna Katharine Green


  XXXII.

  THE SPECTRE OF THE LABORATORY.

  Had Hermione been allowed time to think, she might have drawn back fromsuch a sudden marriage. But Frank, who recognized this possibility,urged her with gentle speed down the street, and never ceased hispersuasions till they stood at the minister's door. Mrs. Lothrop, whohad a heart for romance, opened it, and seeing the blushing face andsomewhat dishevelled appearance of Hermione, she cast one comprehendinglook at Frank, and drew them in joyfully.

  "You are to be married, are you not?" she asked, welcoming the wholefour with the gayest of bows. "I congratulate you, dear, and will takeyou right away to my best room, where you will find your box andeverything else you may need. I am so glad you decided to come hereinstead of having us go to you. It is so pleasant and so friendly andthe Doctor does so dread to go out evenings now."

  Small chatter is ofttimes our salvation. Under this little lady's fireof bright talk Hermione lost the tragic feelings of months and seemed toawake to the genialities of life. Turning her grand head towards thesmiling little woman she let her own happiness shine from the corners ofher mouth, and then following the other's lead, allowed herself to betaken to a cosy chintz-furnished room whose home-like aspect struck warmupon her heart and completed the work of her rejuvenation.

  Emma, who was close behind her, laughed merrily.

  "Such a chrysalis of a bride," cried she. "Where are the wings withwhich to turn her into a butterfly?"

  Mrs. Lothrop showed them a great box, and then left them. Emma, liftingthe lid, glanced shyly at Hermione, who blushed scarlet. Such a lovelyarray of satin, lace, and flowers! To these girls, who had deniedthemselves everything and been denied everything, it was a glimpse ofParadise. As one beautiful garment after another was taken out,Hermione's head drooped lower in her delight and the love it inspired,till at last the tears came and she wept for a few minutesunconstrainedly. When this mood had passed, she gave herself up toEmma's eager fingers, and was dressed in her bridal garments.

  The clock was striking ten when Frank's impatience was rewarded by thefirst glimpse of his bride. She came into the room with Emma and Mrs.Lothrop, and her beauty, heightened by her feelings to the utmost, wassuch as to fill him with triumph and delight.

  To Edgar it was a revelation, for always before, he had seen the scarbefore he did her; but now he was compelled to see her first, for thescar was hidden under fold upon fold of lace.

  "No wonder Frank is daft over her," thought he, "if she always lookslike this to him."

  As for Frank, he bowed with all his soul to the radiant vision, andthen, leading her up to Mr. Lothrop, awaited the sacred words which wereto make them one. As they were being uttered, strange noises broke outin the street, and the cry of "Fire! fire!" rang out; but if the brideand bridegroom heard the ominous word they did not betray the fact, andthe ceremony proceeded. It was soon over, and Frank turned to kiss hiswife; but just as Emma advanced with her congratulations, the front doorburst open and a neighbor's voice was heard to cry in great excitement:

  "The Cavanagh house is burning, and we are all afraid that the girlshave perished in the flames."

  It was Emma who gave the one shriek that responded to these words.Hermione seemed like one frozen. Edgar, dashing to the door, looked out,and came slowly back.

  "Yes, it is burning," said he. "Emma will have to go with you to NewYork."

  "It is a judgment," moaned Hermione, clinging to Frank, who perhaps felta touch of superstitious awe himself. "It is a judgment upon me forforgetting; for being happy; for accepting a deliverance I should nothave desired."

  But at these words Frank regained his composure.

  "No," corrected he, "it is your deliverance made complete. Without ityou might have had compunctions and ideas of returning to a place towhich you felt yourself condemned. Now you never can. It is a mercifulProvidence."

  "Let us go and see the old house burn," she whispered. "If it is afuneral pyre of the past, let us watch the dying embers. Perhaps myfears will vanish with them."

  He did not refuse her; so Emma relieved her of her veil and threw abouther a long cloak, and together they stepped into the street. The glarethat struck their faces made them shrink, but they soon overcame thefirst shock and hastened on.

  The town was in a tumult, but they saw nothing save the flaming skeletonof their home, with the gaunt outlines of the poplars shining vividly inthe scarlet glow.

  As they drew near to it the front of the house fell in, and Hermione,with a shriek, pointed to the corner where the laboratory had been.

  "My father! my father! See! see! he is there! He is denouncing me! Lookat his lifted arms! It _is_ a judgment, it is----"

  Her words trailed off in choking horror. They all looked, and they allsaw the figure of an old man writhing against a background of flame. Wasit a spectre? Was it the restless ghost of the old professor showingitself for the last time in the place of his greatest sin and suffering?Even Edgar was silent, and Frank refused to say, while the girls,sinking upon their knees with inarticulate moans and prayers, seemed tobeg for mercy and cry against this retribution, when suddenly Hermionefelt herself clasped in two vigorous arms, and a voice exclaimed in thehusky accents of great joy:

  "You are here! You are here! You are not burned! O my dear youngmistresses, my dear, dear young mistresses!"

  Hermione, pushing the weeping Doris back, pointed again towards thetoppling structure, and cried:

  "Do you see who is there? My father, Doris, my father! See how hebeckons and waves, see----"

  Doris, startled, gave a cry in her turn:

  "It is Mr. Huckins! O save----"

  But the words were lost in the sudden crash of falling walls. The sceneof woe was gone, and the dayspring of hope had risen for the two girls.

  _A Selection from the Catalogue of_

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  THAT AFFAIR NEXT DOOR.

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  ONE OF MY SONS.

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  The rousing volume of dare-devil enterprise that Perceval Gibbon haswritten is a book full of freshness and surprise. Miss Gregory knocksabout the world, and wherever she goes she is in the thick of things. Atone time it is a Nihilist plot which fascinates her; at another time, aplague-stricken community that calls her. She is in Africa when theslaver is secretly plying his trade, and again, in wicked Beira, at theopportune moment she interposes her calm, forceful personality betweenan aggressive ruffian and his friendless victim. Wherever she goes sheattracts adventure to her. The book which recounts her extraordinaryexperiences is full of graphic pictures of men and women in widelyseparated parts of the globe, and the characterization of these is asforceful and impressive as the narrative in which they play their partsis swift in movement and enthralling in theme.

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  Transcriber's Note:

  Punctuation has been standardised. Spelling and hyphenation have beenretained as in the original publication except as follows:

  Page 19 before her head could and its _changed to_ before her head could add its

  Page 87 advisable to have an an inventory _changed to_ advisable to have an inventory

  Page 120 heeded neither his works nor _changed to_ heeded neither his words nor

  Page 135 so may their hearts be. Wont _changed to_ so may their hearts be. Won't

  Page 144 Hermoine, and then I could _changed to_ Hermione, and then I could

  Page 209 "since Hariet Smith is _changed to_ "since Harriet Smith is

 



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