“And so to win me you stooped to play with the affections of another. A very manly thing to do,” Magdalen rejoined, in a tone of bitter scorn, which made poor Frank’s blood tingle as he tried to stammer out his excuses.
“It was not a manly act, I know; but, Magdalen, so far as Alice was concerned, it did no harm. I know she does not care for me now, if she ever did. Our intercourse was merely friendly,—nothing more; and I cannot flatter myself that she would feel one heart-throb were she to hear to-day of my marriage with another. Forgive me, Magdalen, if in my love for you I resorted to duplicity, and tell me that you can love me in time,—that you will try to do so. Will you, Magdalen?”
“No. Frank. I can never be your wife; never. Don’t mention it again; don’t think of it again, for it cannot be.”
This was Magdalen’s reply, which Frank felt was final. She was leaving the room, and he let her go without another word. He had lost her, and throwing himself upon the couch, he pressed his hands together upon his aching head, and groaned aloud with pain and bitter disappointment.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE LOOSE BOARD IN THE GARRET.
Hester Floyd was sick. Exposure to a heavy rain had brought on an attack of fever, which confined her to her bed, where she lay helpless and cross, and sometimes delirious. She would have no one with her but Magdalen. Every other person made her nervous, she said. Magdalen’s hands were soft; Magdalen’s step was light; Magdalen knew what to do; and so Magdalen stayed by her constantly, glad of an excuse to keep away from Frank, with whom she had held but little intercourse since that night in the library, which she remembered with so much regret. Hester’s illness she looked upon as a godsend, and stayed all day by the fretful old woman’s bedside, only leaving the room at meal time, or to make a feint of watching Mrs. Walter Scott, for whom Hester evinced a strong dislike or dread.
“Snoopin’, pryin’ thing,” she said to Magdalen. “She’ll be up to all sorts of capers now that I’m laid up and can’t head her off. I’ve found her there more than once; I knew what she was after, and took it away, and then like a fool lugged it back again, and it’s there now, and you must get it, and put it—put it—oh, for the dear Lord’s sake what nonsense be I talkin’. What was I sayin’, Magdalen?”
Hester came to herself with a start, and stared wildly at Magdalen, who was bending over her, wondering what she meant, and what it was which she must bring from the garret and hide. Whatever it was, it troubled Hester Floyd greatly, and when she was delirious, as was often the case, she was sure to talk of it, and beg of Magdalen to get it, and put it beyond the reach of Mrs. Walter Scott.
“How am I to get it when I don’t know what it is nor where it is,” Magdalen said to her one night when she sat watching by her, and Hester had insisted that she should go to the garret, and “head off that woman. She’s there, and by and by she’ll find that loose board in the floor under the rafters where I bumped my head so hard. Go, Magdalen, for Heaven’s sake, if you care for Roger.”