CHAPTER XXII.
VIOLET ATTEMPTS A TRUCE.
Violet was so overcome with terror and surprise, and so nervous and overwrought, that for a time she could only stand there, Will’s arms about her, his face, pale and startled, bent over her own, his eyes full of tender sympathy.
“Violet—Miss Arleigh!” he cried, and his voice trembled as he spoke, “what is the matter? What has frightened you so? For I am sure that you were frightened at something. You came running down the staircase yonder as though some dreadful creature were in pursuit. Come, let us go over to that rustic seat under the magnolia-tree yonder, and sit down for a few moments. To tell the truth, Miss Arleigh, I had wished very much to see you, and it seemed as if my good fortune precipitated you directly into my arms.”
Violet did not see the stern white face at the library window, where her modern Othello stood glaring down in speechless wrath upon the scene. It looked like a love-scene, certainly; to the jealous imagination of the lover it looked like a meeting between two who cared for each other.
“I would never have believed it, if I had not seen it with my own eyes,” muttered Leonard, harshly; as if it were possible for him to have witnessed the scene with any other eyes than his own.
In the meantime, the two unconscious culprits had seated themselves upon the rustic seat under the drooping branches of the magnolia-tree, with the pale silvery moon just creeping forth from behind a light fleecy cloud, gazing down upon the pair with calm, smiling eyes—that same old moon that has played so many tricks in its time upon lovers, and has misled more than one jealous, suspicious swain such as I am sorry to say—but truth compels me to admit it—that Leonard Yorke has proven himself to be.
That same tricky moonlight, playing hide-and-seek among the green leaves of the drooping magnolia boughs, showed Violet very pale and still at Will Venners’ side. His handsome face was bent over her own, and he was speaking in a low, earnest voice.
Not one word that he uttered could reach Leonard’s ears, and therefore he naturally imagined that Venners was making love of the fiercest description to his not unwilling listener. But in reality this is just what Will was saying:
“I have ventured here to-night, Miss Arleigh, though it was quite a time before I could make up my mind to come, for I know that for some reason Yorke does not like me, and only invited me here from common civility; but I felt that I must make one more effort to see Jessie Glyndon before I go. I have decided to go out to Texas, you see. There is no use in my remaining here, and—and I love her so, Violet, I can not bear to stay here, and in time see her wedded to another—not that I know of any other that she cares for just now. Do—do you, Violet?” with a wistful glance into Violet’s face, quite as though he were anxious for her to say yes. Yet, in truth, he was half wild with consternation lest she should corroborate his secret fears.
Violet shook her head, with a slight smile. She felt sorry for Will from the very bottom of her warm, womanly, sympathetic heart.
“No; I am sure there is no one else, Will,” she returned. “And, indeed, I—I don’t see how Jessie can help caring for you. I mean”—stopping short, with a vivid blush overspreading her pale face as she realized what she had said—“I mean that I think that she does care.”
“Bah! she has a strange way of showing it, then!” retorted Will, bitterly.
A sudden impulse, a sweet, gentle impulse, came into Violet’s heart to try and help these two who seemed playing at cross-purposes, all that might lie in her power. Not to interfere—Violet had a horror of all interference or meddling in such cases; to her they seemed sacred as private—but perhaps she might be able to advise and counsel a little in a time like this.
“Will”—her eyes shone like diamonds—“suppose you let me go into the house now, this very moment, and ask Jessie to come out here to see you? It would be so much nicer and more romantic out here in the moonlight than to sit in state in the big, grand drawing-room, with Aunt Constance playing propriety, and Hilda watching you with quizzical eyes. I know Jessie would not like that, and she would like the moonlight and the tête-à-tête with you. What woman could help it?” with unconscious flattery. “Shall I go and ask Jessie to come out here, Will? Remember you are going away, and it will be good-bye.”
Will’s face was pale as death, and his dark eyes shone like stars.
“I want to see her, Heaven knows I do!” he said, sadly; “but suppose that she should refuse to come, Miss Arleigh? It would nearly kill me!”
“She shall not refuse! I will not give her the chance.”
Violet rose to her feet with an air of determination. She felt quite maternal in her regard for this distressed young lover, and her heart was full of the desire to help him and Jessie out of this slough of misunderstanding; for somehow Violet felt that there was a misunderstanding somewhere.
“She shall have no chance to refuse, even if she meditates a refusal,” said Violet, resolutely. “I will steal a march upon her. Just wait here a few moments, Will—only a few moments—and I will see what I can do.”
She glided swiftly, softly away, a slight little figure in its black gown, with pale face and resolute eyes.
Will’s glance followed the slender figure, and a slight moisture crept into his eyes as he murmured softly:
“Heaven bless her kind heart!”
Into the house went Violet, swift and eager. In the hall she encountered Miss Glyndon on her way upstairs to Mrs. Yorke’s room with a sleeping-potion. After administering it, she was expected to sit by the bed and read aloud to the sleepless, nervous invalid until at last sleep should overtake her.
Violet went straight up to Mrs. Yorke’s companion and laid her hand upon the white sleeve of Miss Glyndon’s dress.
“Jessie, let me take that up to Mrs. Yorke,” she said in a pleading tone; “and you—you go out into the grounds for a little while. It will do you good to get the fresh air. You are looking very pale.”
Jessie Glyndon’s large gray eyes met the earnest gaze of Violet’s with a swift, half-startled expression in their depths.
“I—looking pale? Why, you must be mistaken, Miss Arleigh. I was never better nor stronger in my life.”
“But that is not the question,” persisted Violet; “and I want you to go out for a walk for a little while. Come with me, Jessie. Let Mrs. Yorke wait for this for once. It will not hurt her to wait, and it is so very early—hardly nightfall yet. Why should she wish to sleep at such an early hour as this? No wonder she is wakeful and nervous later in the night, if she goes to sleep with the birds in this fashion. Here, give me the potion; I will assume all responsibility. Now come with me out into the grounds. Really and truly, I will admit that I have a reason for making the request—not half a bad reason, either; and as it is the very first request I have ever made of you, I am sure you ought to gratify it.”
Violet took the vial from Jessie’s hand, and slipping her arm about the girl’s waist, led her half resisting (though never for an instant suspecting the truth) out through the open door into the pearly, moonlit night.
Violet’s face wore a look of determination that was really unique, and her dark eyes gleamed with delight as she led her captive swiftly down the broad walk in the direction of the magnolia-tree and the dark figure, in its well-fitting suit of brown serge, seated upon the rustic bench.
Jessie drew back with a startled exclamation as the moonlight glinted across his face.
“There is some one there, Miss Arleigh,” she whispered. “See! it is a man.”
“So it is,” cried Violet, innocently; “and as true as I live, Jessie, it is Captain Venners! Why, Captain Venners!”—in a tone of Jesuitical surprise—“when did you arrive?”
Will was shaking hands with Jessie, trying to ignore her very palpable coldness, trying in vain to look into her eyes and read the story hidden there. But, alas! it was Sanscrit to him.
“Now, I will hurry back to Mrs. Yorke,” interposed Violet. “And you need not make haste at all, Jessie; Captain Venners will entertain you, I am sure; so I’m off!” and before Jessie could attempt a word of protest, Violet flitted away up the path to the house, and Jessie and Will were alone together.
