While Victoria pictured her home to Roger, Lady Vale and Mary walked slowly toward the gardener’s cottage arm in arm.
“You have guessed my hopes, dear Augusta, or I should say, what was once my hope, in regard to your child and my Roger.”
“Yes, Mary,” and Lady Vale pressed her friends hand tenderly. “Shattered hopes. I will say that I should not have been averse to their union, had Roger been in full possession of his health, but now—dear Mary, you surely cannot wish it, while of course Victoria will not allow herself to love a blind man. Think of what a future hers would be, tied for life to a never-ceasing care. Ah no, it can never, never be.”
Mary burst into tears. “My poor boy! What a dark prospect lies before him. I must tell him the physician’s decision, though the telling break my heart.”
“Has he enough strength of will, think you, to bear up under it? When he knows there is no hope, will he do as so many have done before him? Will he take his own life.”
“God forbid! Oh Augusta, you are a mother; pity a sorrowing mother’s breaking heart, and promise me, that if God brings those two young hearts together, and they love, in spite of Roger’s affliction, promise me that you will consent to their union; that you will do nothing to separate them?”
Mary stopped and wound her arms around Lady Vale, who kissed the tear-stained face of her friend. “It is a hard thing to promise, dear Mary.”
“Ah! but my heart will break if you do not. Think of how little Roger will have to make him happy. Think of what a joy such a love as Victoria’s would be to him. They may not love, but if they do, will you promise me not to withhold your consent? Do Augusta, or my life will be miserable.” And Lady Vale, although her heart misgave her, finally consented, hoping that Victoria’s good sense would prevent her from doing anything so rash.
CHAPTER V.
Andrew remained away three days. They seemed the longest three days in all his life. He longed to be near Victoria, to hear her voice, to watch her changing face, even if she did show weariness at his presence, and treat him with scorn. His perseverance must win in the long run, and then how sweet the victory. He doubted if he would have loved her with half the fervor, if she had willingly thrown herself into his arms, but her scornful half-averted looks, only made the blood course faster through his veins, and the chase was twice as fascinating. As he rode up the broad avenue that quiet summer evening, he was as positive of victory, as though Victoria were already his wife, and he anticipated the swift look of disdain which would shoot from her eyes, with as much ardor as a favored lover longs for his mistress’s most enchanting smile. To his enamored fancy her coldness was only a sure sign of a complete conquest for him. As he drew near the house he heard voices, and then a laugh which he knew could only belong to one person, Victoria. The happy, joyous ring of her voice told that she was enjoying her companion’s society. Andrew wondered who it could be. A pang of jealousy shot through him, as he descried a tall, manly form with his arm passed through Victoria’s, slowly pacing in front of him. “Ah!” he thought, “so we have a visitor. Very familiar, I must say. I’ll soon put an end to that.” He savagely thrust his spurs into the animal’s sides, causing the poor creature to rear and plunge madly, while Victoria who had not heard Andrew approaching, screamed and jumped to one side, dragging Roger with her, as the horse dashed by. Andrew wheeled and returned, glancing quickly at Victoria’s companion, and when he saw the blindfolded figure of his brother, he uttered an exclamation which sounded very much like “damn.” He had forgotten Roger, or if he had thought of him, it was of his being in a darkened room shut away from everything joyous, and bemoaning his fate. Instead, Andrew saw him apparently happy, with a jest on his lips, entertaining his fair guide in a manner peculiarly Roger’s own, and “evidently very pleasing to Victoria,” Andrew thought bitterly, for he had never been able to beguile such laughter from those sweet lips. In another moment he was smiling at his foolishness, at being for even a second jealous of a blind man. “Of course she is doing her best to cheer him,” he thought. “Poor Roger. Why should I begrudge him a few moments of happiness? It’s all he’ll ever get, I fancy.”