"'Blind folly' it was to love a heartless woman! And this Lacy—are you retaining him as a corps de reserve?"
"He is nothing to me—."
An ejaculation of extreme disgust interrupted her. "Now this is too much! Do you think then that a solitary manoeuvre has been unnoticed by me? that I have not divined even the motive of your altered behaviour to Miss Ross? You have either guessed or heard what has been told me within a day or two—that he was her lover last winter—either discarded, or engaged to her now. Have a care! you may be foiled with your own weapons! Adieu!" His mocking laugh rang through the room. Lelia remained where he left her; the ruddy glare lighting up features contorted by anger or grief. "Can it be?" she said—"But, no!" she smiled, contemptuously. "A made-up tale to work upon my jealousy! That matters not at present—but this—yet I am not discouraged—he is the only one!" and muttering over—"He is the only one!" she lifted her bonnet and shawl, and carried them from the apartment. Astonishment had chained Ida's limbs and tongue after she realised that she was awake. She grew weak and sick at the accomplished duplicity of one so youthful, so faultless in seeming;—the windings of her arms about her neck—her kisses were like the coil and sting of a serpent. She detected the artfulness of her pretended confidence; her lures to inveigle her into some embarrassment or admission which would betray her acquaintance with Mr. Lacy. She had suspected her then; the change of manner followed too soon upon the recognition of the handwriting. She rejoiced that the house was to be freed of her on the morrow. If he could be warned! but this was a prohibited subject to thought as to words, and she was learning how to govern both. There was a soirée that evening, and Ida had never been more happy to see company. Alice and Lelia came together to her room to say farewell, for they were both to start early in the morning. She tried to treat them alike, but her regrets at losing them were addressed to Alice; and if they were heartfelt, the sigh of relief, with which she turned the bolt after them, was equally sincere.
The bridal festivities were not over until after Christmas, but Ida avoided further participation in them by spending holiday week at Mr. Dana's. She was invited expressly to meet Carry and Arthur, and, although the precedence belonged to them, as more unfrequent visitors, she was installed in the seat of honour as chief guest. Carry inveighed against Mr. Read's marriage, and was anxious to learn whether it would render her position more unpleasant. Ida thought not:—her heart said this could hardly be, but she spoke hopefully of the wholesome check Mrs. Read's elegant propriety would be upon Josephine's brusqueness. "They will not agree at first, for Mrs. Read, if she does appear too fond of her ease to contend, is not deficient in resolution; yet the end may be mutual endurance and forbearance. In any event I shall remain neutral. Who knows, Carry, but, unpromising as the field is, I may do as well as suffer, even there?"
They were alone in Carry's room. "There is one subject, upon which I wish to speak to you;" said the latter, seriously. "Has Arthur said anything to you of himself?"
"No—not particularly."
"He was always too good for me," pursued Carry. "You need not hold up your finger so threateningly—but for a year past, I felt that he was growing better, while I made no progress. After we were married, I discovered that he was in the habit of the daily study of his Bible, and secret prayer. I did not hint that I knew it, for it was too sacred a matter for me to touch. Ida! I suffered! he had a care which I could not share—was ill at ease, and I must not cheer him. When you wrote, recounting the alteration of your views and prospects, he unsealed his heart to me. He had long sought peace, without finding it; but latterly, had experienced a glimmering hope he feared to divulge, so faint was it—that he was a child of God. I wept for joy and grief—joy, for I was sure, although he was not, that he was a Christian;—and grief at my own hardness of heart. His light has burned brighter and brighter every day; and he is prepared now to avow it to his friends and the world. He says your fearlessness, in declaring your principles, filled him with shame, and urged him to emulate your example."
Here was one sheaf—an earnest of whitening harvest. The barrenness of opportunities for serving and honouring her Redeemer, was a troublesome stumbling-block. Her sphere of usefulness was so limited; and she had talents, which might be deployed to some purpose in a larger arena. The glowing zeal of a young convert called for action. In a moment of discontent with herself, and perhaps with her situation, she had expressed this to Charley, who silenced her with one line—
"'They also serve, who only stand and wait.'"