“Why, how strangely you are talking, Rosalind—you who have a father and mother, and hosts of friends!” they cried, in amazement.
“Alas! you cannot guess at all my troubles. Listen and you will own that my words are true. My father, in his extreme old age, has met with financial disaster that has wrecked his mind. He is confined to his room, my mother his constant, watchful attendant. But worst of all, I have incurred my mother’s anger by undertaking alone this journey to be by your father’s side in his troubles. She forbade me to come. She said it was indiscreet, unwomanly, and that I could never hold up my head again if I outraged society by such a step. She refused me the money for my journey, so I sold my jewels to pay my passage over here.”
“Dear heart!” murmured Marie, pressing Rosalind’s white hand, while Lucile added:
“How noble!”
“Do you think so?” cried Rosalind eagerly. “And do you think your father will be as noble in return? For mamma said if I dared risk my reputation coming to him alone this way there was but one thing a man of honor could do in return for such blind devotion, and that was to marry me out of hand, to silence gossiping tongues. Not that I mind, dear girls, but for mamma’s sake—she is old and prudish, you know—do you think he would be willing to quiet her foolish scruples and ease my heart by a quiet marriage to-morrow? Do you think he would be willing to do me this kindness? Will you, my dear friends, ask him for me?”
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A BITTER SECRET.
“Rosalind Montague here! Ah, Heaven, what ill work is on foot now?”
The words broke almost unconsciously from Berenice’s lips when they told her that her arch enemy was in the house.
She flung out protecting arms, and clasped Charley, as he lay in a half stupor on his couch, murmuring, half distractedly:
“Ah, my love, my love, I must guard you now from her hate as well as from your terrible illness. I will never leave your side, never, my darling, never leave you alone, lest her baleful presence overwhelm your life!”