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A Romance Of Two Brothers

A Romance Of Two Brothers image
Parent Issue
Day
15
Month
July
Year
1891
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Author of "The Confessions of Claud," "An Ambitious Woman," "The Evil That Men Do," "A New York Family," Etc. [Copyright, 1S90, By Edgar Fawcett.] CHAPTER X. "You are ready, Percuta? said uerald with great gentleness, on a certain morning just three days later. "Yes,"' she answered, standing before him in a simple dark dross, with a touneh of flowers at lier bosom. Then, s he raised her liand and held it to his lips, she went on: "Who is waiting there, Gejald?" "Down in the drawing-room? No one except the clergyman who is to marry us and our good friend, Dr. Clyde, not to speak of poor, dull, obliging Mrs. Brawne.'' He was going to add, in humorons afterthought, "expensive Mrs. Brawne, I might alsocall her," butsuddenly preferred not to speak tho words. Instead of them he gay ly said: "The sim is shiningas merry as it' it were one of my old English May mornings. And the sun is shining in my heart, too, Perdita! I do so hope it's the same with Her eves sivam in tears as they dwelt on his faee. "Oh, Gerald," she said, "whatever that blot-d-out past of mine may have been, I'm certain it never brought love to me. never. never!" She bowed her head on his shoulder. "There is no forgetfulnesa that could cloud such love as I feel for you. It is this thought that makes mo sure I caa not be doing wron;r. And yet who knows? who knows? There are tiaes when those bidden years are like a monstrous iron door, against which I seera to be dashing myself to death." lier words ended in a shudder. With tender forcé GeralA npliíted her head and kissed her fervidly once or twiee on the lips. "These arma are here," he said, "ready to save you from any sueh forlorn fate. And remember," he went on, with a kind of boyish catching of the breath in his hope-stirred tones, "there is soraewhere a new life prepared for us in a land that is new. He who so long has been my benefactor will not desert me now. By degrees, my dearcst, you will begin to forget that you have forgotten. Even the recollection that I found you homeless and shivering in the street at lAght will melt into the brighter onsciousness of how munh mutual joy that meeting has borne us both. Come, now; let us go down; they are waiting. There, 111 kiss away your tears. Above all things that the Kun hates to shine on, I'm sure it must be a tearful bride." They went down-stairs together into the little front drawing-room. The placid-faced clergyman (unconscious of her mental trouble) had taken Perdita's hand and was saying something kindly or perhaps jocose to her in a lowered voice. Just then a servant elipped up to Gerald's side and handed Mm a card. Gerald turned toward Clyde. "My brother, Sylvan," he said. "Can he have heard of my marriage?" "did not teil him," Clyde returned, neutrally. "Where did you show Mr. Maynard?" said Gerald to the servant. "Into the next room, sir," he was answered. A pair of heavy folding-doors (in what is now a somewhat old-fashioned style for Kew York) separated these two apartments. These doors were tightly closed. Gerald turned to the clergyman with a smile. "Just excuse me for a moment, please," he said. "I promise you VU return directly. I haven't got frightened enougn to run away. He quitted the room by a sido door, passed through the hall, and speedily came into the presence of his brother. He was smiling, and instantly put f orth his hand. It seemed impossible that ha should hold a shadow of malice, that rnorning, toward any human being - and least of all, toward one so near of kin. But Sylvan took no notice of the outstretched hand. He was extremely pale, and the lung-malady that threatened him was plainer, now, in his glassy eye and hollow cheek. "I would not have como here," he said, "if it had not been for a most extraordinary matter. In their searches for my wife the two detectives I employed appear to have been very keen. They insist upon it that they have traced to this house (with final private lid, I believe, f rom one of its servants) 3, certain female whom they believe rnay very possibly be Lucia." Gerald thought of his delayed marriage. Besides, his brother had just behaved with insolence in refusing to take his hand. He half turned away, with alight eurl of the lip. "I know very few of the other people n this house. You should make quines oí tne íanaiaay nere. airs. Iirawne is her name." "I preferredtomake inquirios of you," said Sylvan. "I preferred it because I have learned that the lady whom the Dflicers hare suspected of being Lucia is in a certain way under your protection and that of Dr. Clyde." Gerald started, frowned", flushed and then grew deadly pale. "She has entirely lost her memory," pursued Sylvan, "and - " "Stop there!" broke in Gerald. He spoke as if a cord girt his throat. "What deviltry is this?" he went on, gasping-ly. "Who dared to teil you such a lie?" He stood staring at Sylvan with a fixity that was full of both defiance and bewilderment. "I have mentioned my informante," replied his brother, coldly. "Perhaps they are mistaken; they have not claimed infallibility; but I am sure they have not dealt in falsehood." A sudden impulse as of desperation took hold of Gerald. "The lady to whom you have so distinetly referred," he said, "is here. Look for yourself." And quietly, but with speed, he uncí osed the folding doors. In a moment the two rooms became as one. Gerald moved forward, his brother following. She whom they sought stood, just then, between the elergyman and Clyde. Mrs. Brawne, with commonplaee visage and a queer, festive flutter about her toilet, was slightly in the background. Having approaehed withinafew steps of the woman he meant to marry that morning, Gerald drew back and indicated Sylvan by a quiek wave of his hand. "This," he said, looking straight at Perdita, "is my brother." She grew very white, and remained for a few seconds motionless, with her gaze on Sylvan's face. Then she sprang to Gerald and elutched his arm. "Your - your brother'!" she questioned. "Yes," said Gerald. She had not taken her eyes irom Sylvan. Clyde, who watehed her now, never forgot the surge of intelligence mixed with frightful agony that soon Bwept across her features. In another instant her clasp on Gerald's arm loosened. She staggered toward Sylvan. Her eyes had now the look of being dragged from their sockets. Her frail, pure throat became seamed with lines as of straining thèws. "Oh! my God!" she cried. "It all comes back! I - I remember" In that one last word rang out such anguish as a perishing soul might utter if damned by a sense of either its own despair, misfortune or disgrace. "Lucia!" exclaimed Sylvan. He advanced as though to meet her. But even then she sank to the floor - sank with collapse so quick and terrible that no arm of those near by had enough mingled force and swiftness to break her fall. Gerald was the first to raise her, and as he did so a wild cry of sorrow broke from his lips. He had told himself, in that single fleei glance at her bluishly altered face, that she had ceased to live. . . And soon afterward, when she had been borne to a sofa. Clyde bent over her and veriüed the ghastly conviction. "Her heart has been fee ble for weeks," he said, when no gleam of doubt as to her death longer dweil with him. Iiisi:rr from the sofa. he srazed with trreat gentlenuss and compassion at sylvan, saying: "She was your wife, then?" "Yes," answered Sylvan. At this point Gerald toro something from an inner pocket. "The manuscript and the letter!" he cried, in a voice throbbing with misery. "Take them - burn thein! you are right; they are accursed!" Sylvan reeeived the envelope in a dazed way, with shuking hand. The morninrj. in spite of ils simshine, had been somewhat chiJJ: ;i i;-; of big black coal-blocks flashed aüd crackled below the mantel. Övlvan examin-'1 tiie papers. for a brief space, as well as his keen agitation would permit. Then ho almost reeled toward the grate and flung them in among the yellow, coiling' flamcs. Nearly a month had passed when one evening Clyde and his friend Ross Thorndyke sat together. "It is charming," said Clyde, "to think of Gerald's devotion to his brother nowadays. Instead of that horror having divided thein it has made them better friends than ever before." "Poor Sylvan is doomed, I fear," said Thorndyke. "Ilis father's old malady has him in its clutch." "Yes. There seems evcry sign of an incurable decay." The two friends were seated in Clyde's charming study, full of books and of artistic touches in int! way oí picture, üUBl ül lupestry Clydc lot his eyes wander Por awhile ftmong these various pro i nwn taste and culture. Then he slowly said, witli a balf-smile playing between hifi lips: "If all record of the elixir hud not been lost, its powersof healiug might betried on poor Sylvan now. I don t refer to any greater powers it might have possessed, my dear Thorndyke, so don't wateh in me that half-coiitemptuous fashion. I merely mean - " But lierc Thorndyke gave his grav beard an impatient pull and one leg irritatcdly across the other. "Oh, Clyde, C 1V.. !" he protcsted. "I often wonder t: .! imagination oí yours has ever allowedyon to become the brilliant practitkmer yoii are. Upon my ivord, I believe you secretly thinls there was somethiny sane in Eg'bert Jlaynard's queer decoction, af ter all." "I can't help but wonder, sometimos," returned Clyde, "at the. resubcitutiou of that drowned woman." "Wonder r.t it'?'' echoed Thorndyke with unsparing setirn. "Why, how many tlioüsands of so-called drowned people have been revived by a dose of stimulant!" "Then yon admit - " "Thai it wa a stimulant? 'hat else eould it have been.' But no more se than brandy - a tul perhaps not as mueh." Clyde pot up froin his chair, with both hands thrust into his tj-ousers pockets and with head relleetively drooped. "No; I won't admit that," he said; "I simply won't There wero novel methods of dealing with electricity pointed out by Maynard in that formula which might have astounded the greatest Uvingchemiht.-,. " 'Tah!" scoffed Thorndyka. "I shild have liked to see any great liviug'chemist gire it öve minutes of sorious attention." There was now a silence, during whieh Clyde stared up at one of his rare engravings. "Well, well," heat length murmured, "it's useless to talk now ol what merit or humbug thestrang-e coinpound may have concealed. But one thing is sure: it has wrought grief and ruin enoug-h to have been the shirt oi Nessus or the 'poppied shell' of Medea. And Gerald! how it has drugged him! Do you think he will ever quite recover from its efEects?" "Yes," exclaimed Thorndyke, with a hearty emphasis that was somehow both manful and sweet'. "He's young yet, and he's got all the world before him. Besides, you know, he has my warm friendship while I live, and he'll have what's no doubt a good deal more valuable from me after I'm dead." Clyde turned, with glowing eyes, and went up to his friend's chair, a hand on the eider man's shoulder. "You dear old chap!" he laughed. "No wonder the Chicago fire spared your goods and chattels as it did!" "Nonsense," muttered Thorndyke, in his beard. "It ruined many a better manl" [the end.]

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Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Courier