Sweet Violet

Violet sobbed violently for some moments, then murmured, tremblingly:

“Can you listen to the rest, Lena, so that we may be done with this tragic subject?”

She was eager to unburden her mind of its bitter secret so long hidden in her tortured breast.

“Yes, tell me all,” sighed the hapless girl, and Violet resumed:

“When I saw your poor father fall, weltering in his blood at the murderer’s feet, I was so horrified that I could not utter the shriek that rose to my lips. My tongue seemed paralyzed, my limbs relaxed, and I dropped half-fainting into a chair.

“I saw the murderer start across the room and turn the key in the lock; then he looked back, and the sight of me seemed to blast his eyes. I heard him murmur, with an oath, that he had forgotten me, that he would have to kill me to silence my tongue.

“Ah, Lena, you know that life is sweet to all of us, especially the young and fortunate! Fancy my horror when I heard that I, too, must die!

“I was about to shriek aloud, but with flaming eyes he rushed to me and clapped his hand so rudely over my mouth that my lips were bruised.

“‘Be silent, or you shall share that old man’s fate!’ he hissed, savagely, in my ear.

“I dared not speak, but my dilated eyes must have expressed my horror and aversion, for he went on, as if in apology:

“‘I did it in self-defense, you know, for the old wolf was choking me to death!’

“I could not answer for the cruel hand upon my lips. He still held it there as he proceeded:

“‘I do not like to kill you, for I am charmed with your beauty, and it would be terrible to kill such a fair young girl. But my own life is at stake, and I must look to myself. If I spare you, if I let you go free, will you take an oath never to betray me?’

“He released my lips, and I cried, indignantly:

“‘It would not be right for me to shield you, Mr. Stanley. You have betrayed an innocent young girl and murdered her father! You are not fit to live!’

“‘So you would like to denounce me to the law?’ he sneered, but I could see that he was very uneasy.

“‘Yes,’ I replied, frankly, as I turned my shuddering eyes away from the sight of the bleeding corpse upon the floor.

“He was silent a moment, gazing into my eyes with a hard, mesmeric gaze, but I shuddered and looked away. He sighed, and said:

“‘I cannot bring myself to kill you, as I killed that old man in the heat of passion; you are too beautiful to destroy in wanton malice. I will reason with you, and show you why you must, in self-defense, keep the secret of this old man’s death.’

“I listened defiantly, for I was determined, if I escaped, to denounce him. My heart was burning with sympathy for the wronged girl and her murdered father.

“But the first words he uttered were these astounding ones:

“‘If you should escape and betray me, you would at once blacken your own character irretrievably.’

“I stared at him in horror and dismay, and he smiled grimly as he added:

“‘When it became known that you were here with me alone, in one of the vilest houses in Chicago—a house that no decent lady would dare to enter—what would the world say of you, Miss Mead?’

“As I gasped for breath to answer, he added, tauntingly:

“‘I fell in love with you at the Fair, and determined to make you my own. Fate played into my hands, and I succeeded in fooling you into this house, and I never meant to let you go until I had wearied of my new toy. That wine was drugged, and I would have forced it down your throat only for the entrance of that old man! Well, I have no time to linger in love’s dalliance now! I must escape before this crime is found out. I must let you go, lovely one, still pure and innocent. That is,’ darkly, ‘if you will promise to let me go free and keep your lips sealed on the events of this night. Refuse, and—you are still in my power!’

“Oh, Lena, the awful threatening, the dread import of his looks and words almost struck me dead at his feet! I gasped, like one dying:

“‘Open the door and let me go, and I will never betray your agency in this awful deed!’

“He knew I spoke the truth; he knew that a young girl’s honor is dearer to her than life. His awful secret was safe in my hands.

“‘You shall go unharmed,’ he said. ‘I am sorry to give you up, but it is the price I must pay for my crime. Luckily I brought you in by a private door, and no one saw your face. It need never be known that one of the most beautiful and virtuous girls in the world entered this house, and after remaining half an hour, left it as pure as when she came into it. That old man’s death saved your honor, beautiful one. Now come,’ and drawing my vail close, I followed him unnoticed into the street, where the rain was still pouring in sheets like another deluge.

“‘You must endure my presence until I can find you a carriage,’ he said; but this was soon accomplished, and I thanked Heaven when the carriage door closed on his evil, smiling face, and I was rolling toward my hotel.

“Mrs. Maynard and the girls were wild with joy to see me. They had sought me vainly in the Fair grounds and outside, and then returned to the hotel, hoping to find me there. I told them the truth, as nearly as I could, that I had missed them at the Virginia Building, and a gentleman had secured a carriage for me and sent me home. As I told it, it seemed a very commonplace story, and no one dreamed of the secret tragedy it held—not even when Chicago was ringing the next day with the story of the mysterious murder of an old man at a notorious house in the suburbs. I was ill with a deep cold during our remaining time in Chicago, and went out no more until my return to Virginia.”

In a few more words Violet told of her grandfather’s visit to Chicago, his acquaintance with Harold Castello, and the attempt to force an elopement which had ended so disastrously in her wedding the wrong man. Harold Castello had doubtless brooded over the fear of Violet betraying him until he had decided that the safest plan was to make her his wife, and thus place it forever out of her power to testify in a court of law to his infamous crime, the murder of a noble old man whose innocent daughter he had cruelly betrayed.

While she was talking the moon went down, and the first gray beams of daylight began to lighten the darkness of the world.

Lena Lavarre rose and took Violet’s hand.

“We will go home now to my mother,” she said. “Our house is but two miles from this place, and we can soon reach it. Our enemy will never think of looking for you there. He believes that poor Lena Lavarre died in Chicago of brain fever, and he would not suspect you of knowing her mother.”

Hand in hand they stole from the old house out into the frosty woods, creeping timorously along, and starting in fear if a dry twig crackled under their feet, or a dead leaf rustled overhead, for they were flying from a pitiless fiend whom they feared and abhorred, and every moment was an hour until they struck into the quiet suburban street where Lena’s widowed mother lived alone in a pretty little six-roomed cottage.

Mrs. Lavarre was her daughter’s confidante in everything now, and so she was not much surprised when she returned, bringing with her a beautiful stranger guest. She welcomed Violet very kindly, and soon set before them a nice warm breakfast, after which they retired to sleep off the chill and fatigue of the cold night spent in the woodland hut.