“Frank!” now broke in Imelda’s horror-struck voice. “Frank! Will you stop? How dare you think any of all the terrible things you have been saying? You seem to take it for granted because you find me here in the grounds of a handsome home that it is my own. I am not married, as you seem to think, but am only a servant in the house you see yonder. So you see all your talk about a rich brother-in-law is the veriest nonsense, and the sooner you leave here and find yourself some honest work to do the better it will be for you.”
“Look here, ’Melda,” he cried, catching her roughly by the arm, “you can’t come any such chaff over me! I want money! I know you have it, and I swear you are going to give it to me.” Imelda felt the blood in her veins turning to ice, not from fear, but from the horror that her brother had come to a level such as this.
“Let go of my arm,” she said in a calm, even voice. “Have you ever known me to speak a falsehood? I have no money, and what is more, if I had I should not give you a cent. You know me well enough of old to know that I never say what I do not mean; so I repeat, let go of my arm and leave these premises as quickly as possible. Until the time that you can prove yourself a man I forbid you ever to speak to me again. Go to the home of our childhood and at the graves of those to whom you owe your being, make the resolution that you will be a son worthy of your father, and if you can keep that resolution a time may come in the future that you may again call me sister. Now for the last time, go,”—saying which she brushed his hand from her arm and turning walked quickly away.
She had not proceeded a dozen steps when she ran into the arms of someone standing there in the darkness. A cry broke from her lips. She was almost overcome with terror. Were the grounds infested tonight? Her heart throbbed with such force it seemed she would suffocate. She could not utter a sound. Who was it? She only heard a heavy breathing and on trying to extricate her hands they were held tighter.
“Don’t fear,” spoke a voice which sent a new thrill of fear to her heart, for it was the voice of Lawrence Westcot!
“Don’t fear, you are quite safe. I have heard the greater part of what transpired a few steps from here, and I will walk with you to the house.”
Imelda was too weak to protest much against this offer. She shivered as he drew her arm through his and led her silently to the house, but in spite of her terror and repugnance at his touch she could not but notice that he treated her with profound respect. He led her to the entrance, opened the door and held it for her to pass through.
Without a single word she left him. Scarcely able to keep on her feet she dragged herself up the broad stairway to her room; then without removing any of her clothing, she sank upon the bed whereon she lay long hours without moving so much as a finger. As the morning dawn stole through the windows she rose and disrobed, a storm of sobs shaking the slender figure while tears bedewed her pillow.
On the following day, and on many following days it was difficult to say which of the two, Alice or Imelda, was the paler, the more listless; whether in the depths of the blue or brown eyes lay hidden the keenest pain.
Norman came and went. He saw the change in the girl he loved but could not fathom the cause. He asked if she were sick; a shake of the head was the only answer. It was all she could do to restrain the tears in his presence. It would have been a luxury to sob her unhappy story out upon his breast, but shame sealed her lips. So she bore her sorrow as best she could, and in time its keen edge wore off. Frank seemed to have disappeared as suddenly and completely as he did once before. Now and then, as the memory of that evening more vividly rose before her mind’s eye, she would whisper to herself.