Harrington and Ralph stood opposite
Zillah’s house, pausing for a moment’s
conversation before they went in.
“No,” said Ralph, earnestly,
“do not ask it; I will not give even this evidence
of a doubt which I never can feel again. Go yourself,
and see her alone. Learn, if possible, by what
evil influence she has been wiled from her home.
If she has fled to escape the importunity of my love,
tell her to fear it no more; I will leave the country do
anything rather than stand in the way of her return
to my mother.”
Harrington wrung the hand which Ralph
had in his earnestness extended.
“Wait at the hotel,” he
said; “in an hour expect me with news. I
will not leave the poor child till her secret is mine.
Be hopeful, Ralph, for I tell you Lina is an honest,
good girl, and a little time will make it all clear.”
“God grant that we do not deceive
ourselves!” said Ralph, hopefully. “I
will wait for you, but it will be a terrible hour,
James.”
“But such hours go by like the
rest,” answered Harrington, with a grave smile;
“you will learn this in time.”
With these words, James Harrington
crossed the street, and entered Zillah’s house.
Ralph watched him till the door closed,
and then walked slowly back to the hotel.
Harrington was right such
hours do go by like the rest; those that are tear-laden
toil on a little slower than such as are bright with
smiles, but the eternity which crowds close upon them
receives both alike, and they float away into the
past, mistily together.
In less than the given time, James
Harrington came back, but his step was heavy as he
mounted the stairs, and a look of haggard trouble hung
upon his brow. Ralph felt his breath come painfully;
he dared not speak, for never in his life had he felt
such awe of the man before him. At length he
drew close to James, and whispered:
“One word, only one: is she lost?”
“Ralph” said Harrington,
drawing a hand across his forehead once or twice,
as if to sweep away some pain that ached there, “I
am at a loss what to say!”
Ralph turned white and drew back.
“No, no, it is not as you think.
The sweet girl is blameless as the angels, but she
is bound by promises and obligations that even I cannot
feel free to fling aside: yet this secrecy can
only end in pain. It is my duty, at any risk,
to free her name from reproach. Ralph, I have
something very distressing to tell you, and it must
be told.”
“If Lina is innocent, if she
loves me, all else is nothing!” answered Ralph,
with enthusiasm. “Oh, James, you have made
a man of me once more!”
“This hopefulness pains me, Ralph.”
“How? Did you not charge
me to keep hopeful? did you not tell me that Lina
was blameless? While I can respect, love nay,
adore her what else has the power to wound
me?”
James Harrington shrank back, and his face flushed.
“Hush! hush! these words are
too ardent they wound, they repulse me!
If you guessed all that I know, your own heart would
recoil from them.”
“Guessed all that you know! well,
speak out. It must be something terrible, indeed,
if it prevents me loving her, after what you have
already said.”
James Harrington hesitated; looked
wistfully at the eager face turned full of inquiry
to his, and at last said, in a low, almost solemn voice:
“Ralph, Lina is your father’s daughter.”
“My father’s daughter?” cried Ralph,
aghast; “my father’s daughter!”
“He told her so with his own
lips, binding her by a promise not to reveal the secret
to us. Poor thing, it was too weighty for her
strength; she grew wild under it and fled to the woman
you saw, who claims to be her mother.”
“Claims to be her mother! That woman it
is false!”
“I fear not, Ralph! I myself
recognized that woman as a beautiful slave whom your
father owned when my own poor mother died. She
has changed but”
“A slave Lina, the
child of a slave? I tell you it is false; the
dews of heaven are not more pure than the blood that
fills those blue veins; there is some fraud here!”
cried Ralph, impetuously.
“I fear not. She is certain
of it; this cruel conviction is killing her.
But for her feeble state, I never could have won her
secret. Poor child, poor child, what can be done
for her?”
Ralph walked the room impetuously,
beating the air with his hand: all at once he
stopped the cloud upon his brow cleared
away his lips parted almost with a cry.
“I tell you, brother James,
this is a fraud, to which Lina’s face alone
is enough to give the lie! Ask Ben Benson only
ask Ben, he is truthful as the sun; he has known her
from the cradle. Ben Benson told me with his
own lips, that Lina’s mother was dead!”
James Harrington became excited; his eye kindled.
“Did Ben Benson tell you this?”
“He did, indeed; but why waste
time in guessing? Let us go home; the old fellow
will help us to put this right.”
James hesitated, and shrunk within
himself; the look of pain came back to his face, and
he answered with some constraint, that the steamer
sailed for Europe on the morrow, and his passage was
already taken.
Ralph looked astonished and distressed.
“Would you leave us now?” he said, reproachfully.
James remained thoughtful a moment,
and then answered with a touch of mournfulness:
“No, I will remain for a little
time. So long as I am wanted, it must be so.”
“Then, let us go home at once.”
“Yes, it is a duty; I will return
with you,” said Harrington, with gentle concession;
and, spite of himself, a gleam of pleasure broke into
his eyes.
“Come, then, come!” cried
Ralph, impetuously. “I cannot breathe till
old Ben has spoken. Come!”
“Have patience, Ralph; let us
talk this matter over more quietly. We are not
at liberty to tell this painful secret to your mother,
it would shock her too much; besides, I pledged my
honor to the poor child that it should not be done.
Let me find General Harrington, and learn the whole
truth from him. If Lina proves to be your sister do
not turn so pale, my dear boy if she proves
to be this, you must go with me to Europe, and learn
to regard her with that gentle affection which becomes
these new relations.”
“I tell you, Lina is not
my sister; every feeling of my soul rises up to contradict
it!” cried the youth, impetuously. “General
Harrington will not say it.”
“Is the General at home now?”
inquired Harrington, with a gentle wave of the hand.
“No; he seldom is, of late.
He almost lives at the club-house.”
“I will seek him there,” said Harrington;
“come with me.”
“Not on this errand, James;
I could not see my father, and maintain that self-control
which is due from a son to his parent. His sins
have fallen too heavily on me for that.”
“You are right, perhaps,”
answered James, thoughtfully. “It will be
a painful interview; but for her sake I will undertake
it, though I had thought all subjects of this kind
were at an end between General Harrington and myself.”
Ralph wrung the hand extended to him,
and the two went out, each taking his own way.