The Cameron pride; or, purified by suffering

by Mary Jane Holmes

This note he would not trust to the post, but deliver himself, and thus avoid the possibility of a mistake, he said; and half an hour later he rang the bell at No.——, asking “if Miss Lennox was at home.” She was; and handing the girl the note, Mark ran down the steps, while the servant carried the missive to the library, where upon the table lay other letters received that morning, and as yet unopened; for Katy was very busy, and Helen was dressing to go out with Juno Cameron, who had graciously asked her to drive with her and look at a picture she had set her heart on having.

Juno had not yet appeared; but Mark was scarcely out of sight when she came in with the familiarity of a sister, and entered the library to wait. Carelessly turning the books upon the table, she stumbled upon Mark’s letter, which, through some defect in the envelope, had become unsealed, and lay with its edge lifted so that to peer at its contents was a very easy matter had she been so disposed. But Juno, who knew the handwriting—could not at first bring herself even to touch what was intended for her rival. But as she gazed the longing grew, until at last she took it in her hand, turning it to the light, and tracing distinctly the words, “My dear Helen,” while a storm of pain and passion swept over her, mingled with a feeling of shame that she had let herself down so far.

“It does not matter now,” the tempter whispered. “You may as well read it and know the worst. Nobody will suspect it,” and she was about to take the folded letter from the envelope, intending to replace it after it was read, when a rapid step warned her some one was coming, and hastily thrusting the letter in her pocket, she dropped her veil to cover her confusion, and then confronted Helen Lennox, ready for the drive, and unconscious of the wrong which could not then be righted.

Juno did not mean to keep the letter, and all that morning she was devising measures for making restitution, thinking once to confess the whole, but shrinking from that as more than she could do. As they were driving home, they met Mark Ray; but Helen, who chanced to be looking in an opposite direction, did not see the earnest look of scrutiny he gave her, scarcely heeding Juno, whose voice trembled as she spoke of him to Helen and his intended departure. Helen observed the tremor in her voice, and pitied the girl whose agitation she fancied arose from the fact that her lover was so soon to go where danger and possibly death was waiting. In Helen’s heart, too, there was a pang whenever she remembered Mark, and what had so recently passed between them, raising hopes, which now were wholly blasted. For he was Juno’s, she believed, and the grief at his projected departure was the cause of that young lady’s softened and even humble demeanor, as she insisted on Helen’s stopping at her house for lunch before going home.

To this Helen consented—Juno still revolving in her mind how to return the letter, which grew more and more a horror to her. It was in her pocket, she knew, for she had felt it there when, after lunch, she went to her room for a fresh handkerchief. She would accompany Helen home,—would manage to slip into the library alone, and put it partly under a book, so that it would appear to be hidden, and thus account for its not having been seen before. This seemed a very clever plan, and with her spirits quite elated, Juno drove round with Helen, finding no one in the parlor below, and felicitating herself upon the fact that Helen left her alone while she ran up to Katy.

“Now is my time,” she thought, stealing noiselessly into the library and feeling for the letter.

But it was not there, and no amount of search, no shaking of handkerchiefs, or turning of pocket inside out could avail to find it. The letter was lost, and in the utmost consternation Juno returned to the parlor, appearing so abstracted as scarcely to be civil when Katy came down to see her; asking if she was going that night to Sybil Grandon’s, and talking of the dreadful war, which she hoped would not be a war after all. Juno was too wretched to talk, and after a few moments she started for home, hunting in her own room and through the halls, but failing in her search, and finally giving it up, with the consoling reflection that were it found in the street, no suspicion could fasten on her; and as fear of detection, rather than contrition for the sin, had been the cause of her distress, she grew comparatively calm, save when her conscience made itself heard and admonished confession as the only reparation which was now in her power. But Juno could not confess, and all that day she was absent-minded and silent, while her mother watched her closely, wondering what connection, if any, there was between her burning cheeks and the letter she had found upon the floor in her daughter’s room just after she had left it; the letter, at whose contents she had glanced, shutting her lips firmly together, as he saw that her plans had failed, and finally putting the document away, where there was less hope of its ever finding its rightful owner, than if it had remained with Juno. Had Mrs. Cameron supposed that Helen had already seen it, she would have returned it at once; but of this she had her doubts, after learning that “Miss Lennox did not go up stairs at all.” Juno, then, must have been the delinquent; and the mother resolved to keep the letter till some inquiry was made for it at least.

And so Helen did not guess how anxiously the young man was anticipating the interview at Sybil Grandon’s, scarcely doubting that she would be there, and fancying just the expression of her eyes when they first met his. Alas for Mark, alas for Helen, that both should be so cruelly deceived. Had the latter known of the loving words sent from the true heart which longed for some word of hers to lighten the long march and beguile the tedious days of absence, she would not have said to Katy, when asked if she was going to Mrs. Grandon’s, “Oh, no; please don’t urge me. I would so much rather stay at home.”

Katy would not insist, and so went alone with Wilford to the entertainment, given to a few young men who seemed as heroes then, when the full meaning of that word had not been exemplified, as it has been since in the life so cheerfully laid down, and the heart’s blood poured so freely, by the tens of thousands who have won a martyr’s and a hero’s name. With a feeling of chill despair, Mark listened while Katy explained to Mrs. Grandon, that her sister had fully intended coming in the morning, but had suddenly changed her mind and begged to be excused.

“I am sorry, and so I am sure is Mr. Ray,” Sybil said, turning lightly to Mark, whose white face froze the gay laugh on her lips and made her try to shield him from observation until he had time to recover himself and appear as usual.