CHAPTER XV.
THE DIE IS CAST.
Nine! boomed from the big clock in a neighboring steeple; nine! tinkled musically from the gilded time-piece in Miss Raleigh’s boudoir.
Lillian started up with a cry of dismay, and the lace-work with which she had been risking her eyesight fell from her hands to the floor.
“One hour more,” she murmured, faintly, “only one hour more, and then I must give Richard Raleigh his answer. Oh, Heaven, help and pity me!”
She was all alone in the dainty boudoir, for Rosamond was below in the drawing-room, entertaining a few guests--Mrs. Vernon and one or two more of Rosamond’s particular friends. And she was expecting Jack. Of course he would come, and then there would be an interview--a private interview--with papa in the library, and the poor journalist would ask for the hand of the millionaire’s daughter.
“And if papa refuses,” thought Rosamond, “for Jack is not rich, and papa may object--I--I shall marry him anyway! I am of age, fortunately.”
And then there flitted through her brain the thought of poverty, even though genteel poverty, with the man she loved, and her heart grew faint and sick within her breast.
“I could not bear to be poor!” she muttered, with a shudder of aversion. “I just could not endure it.”
And she sat in the drawing-room attired in a soft gray satin gown with a great deal of white lace, a subdued, Quakerish costume, quaint and becoming, and chatted with Bessie Vernon and the rest, and all the time her heart was listening for a ring at the door-bell, the sound of a familiar step in the hall.
“Rosamond,” whispered Mrs. Vernon, after awhile, “I have something to tell you--something rich! Are you engaged for twelve to-morrow? No?” as Rosamond shook her head in the negative. “Then I will call and see you. I want to tell you something, but you must be sure and never mention it, never, as long as you live. It is something about Lenore Van Alstyne.”
Rosamond started.
“Very well, I shall expect you to-morrow. And you may rely upon my secrecy, Bessie.”
And then Mrs. Vernon’s carriage was announced, and Mrs. Vernon took her departure, with a whispered reminder to her hostess of the morrow’s engagement. And then the other callers left. Still Jack Lyndon had not made his appearance. What did it mean?
Feeling restless and uneasy, full of a strange disquiet, Rosamond threw a wrap about her shoulders and went out into the grounds. A glorious moonlight night. She wandered slowly down the nearest walk, and at last found herself in the vicinity of the east gate.
“I wonder what Rick meant by being out here last night with Lillian?” she muttered. “Some mischief, I have no doubt. But I don’t care what happens if only he keeps her away from Jack. I firmly believe that Jack cared for her; but I will kill her before she takes him from me.”
She came to a halt with a start of surprise. She had nearly reached the east gate, and her quick eyes had caught sight of two dark forms.
Just at that moment the clock in the steeple struck ten.
“I declare!” panted Miss Raleigh, in a low, wrathful voice, “it is Rick and that girl again. Now, this is too much--too much altogether. Papa would be so angry if he knew.”
Even as she gazed upon the scene Richard Raleigh took Lillian’s slight form in his arms and kissed her unresisting lips.
Miss Raleigh could endure no more. She darted swiftly forward and confronted the pair in the radiant moonlight, pale and wrathful.
“You shameless creature!” she panted, bringing her hand down upon Lillian’s shoulder with a fierce grip. “You shall leave my employ at once--this very night! As for you, Richard Raleigh, I shall tell papa of your shameful conduct, this moment--this very moment, sir, and he will settle with you. The idea of a disgraceful affair like this going on right under our very eyes!”
And before Lillian could recover from her bewilderment, Rosamond turned swiftly about, and rushed like a mad woman back to the house. She burst into the drawing-room quite pale with excitement, and she came to a startled halt as her eyes fell upon Jack Lyndon. He had been closeted all the evening with Grafton Raleigh, though Rosamond had not suspected his presence in the house; and now in the drawing-room--the interview over--they sat conversing with Mrs. Raleigh and waiting for Rosamond to appear.
There was a hurried greeting, after which Rosamond, pale and excited, turned to her father.
“Papa--mamma, I beg your pardon, and Mr. Lyndon’s also, for rushing in upon you in this fashion. But really I must speak or you may reproach me for my silence later on. Papa, last night I saw your son, Richard Raleigh, down at the east gate, where he had evidently gone by appointment to meet my waiting-maid, Lillian Leigh. To-night I walked out into the grounds. I felt lonely,” with a glance of tender reproach into Jack’s startled face, “and chancing to walk in the same direction, I saw them there again. And, papa, Richard had that girl in his arms and--was actually kissing her!”
“Rosamond!” This from Mrs. Raleigh.
But the master of the house uttered no word. Pale and faint, Jack Lyndon leaned heavily against the marble mantel, supporting his head upon his hand and waiting for what was to come next.
“Mamma, it is true. Do not look so angry. It is not my fault. But I consider his conduct shameful--shameful! And that girl is a bold, shameless creature, not fit to be in the house with refined ladies. She is--”
“Hush! Not another word, Rosamond Raleigh!” She wheeled about swiftly, and there upon the threshold stood her brother, and at his side, pale and trembling, Lillian Leigh. “Not another word!” repeated Richard Raleigh, fiercely--“or you shall answer to me for your insults! Father, I have good news to tell you. I have asked Lillian to be my wife, and she has consented.”