CHAPTER XXXVII.
"WHICH OF THE TWO WAS MY MOTHER?"
The sleeper lay tranquilly forgetful of the morning hours redolent ofperfumes and vocal with the songs of birds. The sunlight was gone, adeep-gray cloud having crept up to shadow the scene. All was still inthe glass-room. Virdow shook his head.
"This," he said, "strange, as it may seem, is his real life. Wakingbrings the dreams. We will not disturb him."
Edward would have returned his violin to its case, but as he sat lookingupon the face of the sleeper and revolving in mind the complicationswhich had enslaved him, there came upon the roof of glass the unheraldedfall of rain. As it rose and fell in fine cadences under the fitfuldischarge of moisture from the uneven cloud drifting past, a note wildbut familiar caught his ear; it was the note of the waterfall.Unconsciously he lifted his bow, and blending with that strange minorchord, he filled the room with low, sweet melody.
And there as the song grew into rapture from its sadness under the spellof a new-found hope, under the memory of that last scene, when therainbow overhung the waters and the face of the girl had become radiantwith the thought she expressed, Gerald arose from his couch and stoodbefore the easel. All the care lines were gone from his face. For thefirst time in the knowledge of the two men he stood a cool, rationalbeing. The strains ran on. The artist drew, lingering over a touch ofbeauty, a shade of expression, a wave of fine hair upon the brow. Thenhe stood silent and gazed upon his work. It was finished. The song ofthe violin trembled--died away.
He did not for the moment note his companions; he was looking upwardthoughtfully. The sun had burst open the clouds and was filling theouter world with yellow light, through the water-seeped air. Far away,arching the mellow depths of a cloud abyss, its colors repeated upon thewet grass around him, was a rainbow. Then he saw that Virdow and Edwardwere watching him. The spell was broken. He smiled a little and beckonedto Edward.
"Here is a new face," he said. "It is the first time it has come to me.It is a face that rests me." Edward approached and gazed upon the faceof Mary! Speechless with the rush of feeling that came over him, heturned and left the room.
To Virdow it meant nothing except a fine ideal, but, impressed with themanner of the musician, he followed to the great hall. The girl of thepicture stood in the doorway. Before he had time to speak, he saw themartial figure of Evan overshadow hers and heard the strong, manly voiceasking for Edward.
Edward came forward. Confused by his recent experience, and the suddenappearance of the original of the picture, he with difficulty managed towelcome his guest and introduce his friend.
"I thought best to come," said Evan when Virdow, with easy courtesy, wasengaging the attention of the lady. "I have passed a sleepless night.Where can we speak privately?" Edward motioned to the stairway, buthesitated.
"Never mind Mary," said the general, divining his embarrassment.
"I took her away from the colonel on the road; she and the professorwill take care of themselves." She heard the remark and smiled, replyinggayly:
"But don't stay too long. I am afraid I shall weary your friend."
Virdow made his courtliest bow.
"Impossible," he said. "I have been an untiring admirer of the beautifulsince childhood."
"Bravo!" cried Evan. "You will do!" Virdow bowed again.
"I would be glad to have you answer a question," he said, ratherabruptly, gazing earnestly into her eyes. She was astonished, butmanaged to reply assuringly. "It is this: Have you ever met GeraldMorgan?"
"Never. I have heard so much of him lately, I should be glad to seehim."
"Has he ever seen you?"
"Not that I am aware of----"
"Certainly not face to face--long enough for him to remember your everyfeature--your expression?"
"Why, no." The old man looked troubled and began to walk up and down thehall, his head bent forward. The girl watched him nonplussed and with alittle uneasiness.
"Pardon me--pardon me," he said, finally, recalling the situation. "Butit is strange, strange!"
"May I inquire what troubles you, sir?" she asked, timidly.
"Yes, certainly, yes." He started, with sudden resolution, anddisappeared for a few moments. When he returned, he was holding a largesheet of cardboard. "It is this," he said. "How could a man who hasnever seen you face to face have drawn this likeness?" He held Gerald'spicture before her. She uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"And did he draw it--did Mr. Gerald----"
"In my presence."
"He has never seen me."
"Yes," said a musical voice; "as you were then, I have seen you." Shestarted with fright. Gerald, with pallid face and hair upon hisshoulders, stood before her. "So shall I see you forever." She drewnearer to Virdow.
"This, my young friend, is Mary." It was all he could remember. And thento her: "This is Gerald."
"Mary," he said, musingly, "Mary? What a pretty name! It suits you. Noneother would." She had extended her hand shyly. He took it and lifted itto his lips. It was the first time a girl's hand had rested in his. Hedid not release it; she drew away at last. Something in his voice hadtouched her; it was the note of suffering, of unrest, which a womanfeels first. She knew something of his history. He had been Edward'sfriend. Her father had pictured the scene wherein he had cornered anddefied Royson.
"I am sure we shall be friends, Mr. Gerald. Mr. Morgan is so fond ofyou."
"We shall be more than friends," he said, gently; "more than friends."She misunderstood him. Had he divined her secret and did Edward promisehim that?
"Never less," she said. He had not removed his eyes from her, and now asshe turned to speak to Virdow, he came and stood by her side, andlifting gently one of her brown curls gazed wonderingly upon it. She wasembarrassed, but her good sense came to the rescue.
"See the light upon it come and go," he said. "We call it the reflectedlight; but it is life itself glimmering there. The eye holds the sameray."
"You have imagination," she said, smiling, "and it is fortunate. Hereyou must be lonely." He shook his head.
"Imagination is often a curse. The world generally is happy, I think,and the happiest are those who touch life through the senses alone andwho do not dream. I am never alone! Would to God sometimes I were." Alook of anguish convulsed his face. She laid her hand upon his wrist ashe stood silently struggling for self-possession.
"I am so sorry," she said, softly; "I have pained you." The look, thetouch, the tender voice--which was it? He shuddered and gazed upon thelittle hand and then into her eyes. Mary drew back, wondering; she readhim aright. Love in such natures is not a growth. It is born as a flashof light. Yet she did not realize the full significance of thediscovery. Then, oh, wonderful power of nature, she turned upon him herlarge, melting eyes and gave him one swift message of deepest sympathy.Again he shuddered and the faintest crimson flushed his cheeks.
They went with Virdow to see the wing-room, of which she had heard somuch, to look into the little cabinets, where he made his photographs,to handle his weapons, view his favorite books and all the curiouslittle surroundings of his daily life; she went with an old man and achild. Her girlish interest was infectious; Virdow threw off hisspeculations and let himself drift with the new day, and Gerald was as asmiling boy.
They even ventured with unconventional daring to peep into theglass-room. Standing on the threshold, the girl gazed in with surpriseand delight.
"How novel and how simple!" she exclaimed; "and to think of having thestars for friends all night!" He laughed silently and nodded his head;here was one who understood.
And then her eyes caught a glimpse of the marble bust, which Gerald hadpolished and cleared of its discolorations. She made them bring it andplace it before her. A puzzled look overspread her face as she glancedfrom Gerald to the marble and back again.
"Strange, strange," she said; "sit here, Mr. Gerald, sit here, with yourhead by this one, and let me see." White now as the marble itself, butcontrolled by the
new power that had enthralled, he obeyed; the twofaces looked forward upon the girl, feature for feature. Even the posewas the same.
"It was well done," she said. "I never saw a more perfect resemblance,and yet"--going to one side--"the profile is that of Mr. Edward!" Theyoung man uttered no sound; he was, in the swift passing of the onebright hour of his life, as the marble itself. But as he remained amoment under the spell of despair that overran him, Gen. Evan stood inthe door. Only Mary caught the words in his sharp, half-smotheredexclamation as he started back. They were: "It is true!" He came forwardand, taking up the marble, looked long and tenderly into the face, andbowing his head gave way to his tears.
One by one they withdrew--Virdow, Mary, Edward. Only Gerald remained,gazing curiously into the general's face and thinking. Then tenderly theold man replaced the bust upon the table, and, standing above his head,and said with infinite tenderness:
"Gerald, you do not know me; if God wills it you will know me some day!That marble upon the table is the carved face of my daughter--MarionEvan."
"Then you are Gen. Evan." The young man spoke the words coolly andwithout emotion.
"Yes. Nearly thirty years ago she left me--without a farewell until toolate, with no human being in all the world to love, none to care forme."
"So Rita told me." The words were little more than a whisper.
"I did not curse her; I disowned her and sought to forget. I could not.Then I began to cry out for her in the night--in my loneliness--do youknow what that word means?"
"Do I know?" The pathos in the echo was beyond description.
"And then I began a search that ended only when ten years had buried allhopes. No tidings, no word after her first letter ever reached me. Sheis dead, I believe; but recently some of the mystery has been untangled.I begin to know, to believe that there has been an awful errorsomewhere. She did come back. Her child was born and Rita cared for it.As God is my judge, I believe that you are that child! Tell me, do youremember, have you any knowledge that will help me to unravel thistangled----"
"You are simply mistaken, general," said the young man, without movingother than to fold his arms and sink back into his chair. "I am not theson of Marion Evan." Speechless for a moment, the general gazed upon hiscompanion.
"I thought I was," continued Gerald; "I hoped I was. My God! My God! Itried to be! I have exhausted almost life itself to make the truth alie, and the lie a truth! I have struggled with this secret here fortwenty years or more; I have studied every phase of life; I well-nighbroke Rita's heart. Poor honest Rita!
"She told me what they claimed--she was too honest to conceal that--andwhat she believed; she was too human to conceal that; and then left meto judge. The woman they would have me own as my mother left me, alonely babe, to the care of strangers; to grow up ill-taught, unguided,frail and haunted with a sickening fear. She has left me twenty-sevenyears. Rita stayed. If I were sick, Rita was by me. If I was crazed,Rita was there to calm. Sleepless by night, sleepless by day, she lovedand comforted and blessed me." He had risen in his growing excitement."I ask you, General, who have known life better than I, which of the twowas my mother? Let me answer; you will not. The woman of thirty yearsago is nothing to me; she was once. That has passed. When Rita lay deadin her coffin I kissed her lips at last and called her mother. I wouldhave killed myself afterward--life seemed useless--but not so now. Itmay be a terrible thing to be Rita's son; I suppose it is, but as beforeGod, I thank Him that I have come to believe that there are no ties ofblood between me and the woman who was false to both father and child,and in all probability deserted her husband."
Gen. Evan turned abruptly and rushed from the room. Edward saw his faceas he passed out through the hall and did not speak. With courtlydignity he took Mary to the buggy and stood with bowed head until theywere gone. He then returned to the glass-room. Gerald stood among theruins of a drawing and the fragments of the marble bust lay on thefloor. One glance at this scene and the blazing eyes of the man wassufficient. Evan had failed.
"Tell them," exclaimed Gerald, "that even the son of a slave isdishonored, when they seek to link him to a woman who abandons herchild."
"What is it," asked Virdow, in a whisper, coming to Edward's side.Edward shook his head and drew him from the room.
"He does not know what he is saying."
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