"Where is Mr. Moray--do you know?" she asked, quickly--"I want to return him a paper he loaned me this morning. I have been looking everywhere for him, but can not find him. There is something in the paper that you would like to hear about too."
"Sit down on this ha.s.sock, Jessie, and read it to me," he said.
"Oh, no! You want to make fun of me," she pouted, "and see me get puzzled over all the big words. Please read it yourself, Mr. Varrick."
"Suppose you tell me the substance of it, and that will save me reading it," he said.
"Oh, I can do that. There isn"t so much to tell. It"s about a fire last night on one of the little islands in the St. Lawrence. No doubt you have heard of the place--Wau-Winet Island. The mysterious stone house that was on it has been burned to the ground. The owner was away at the time. It is supposed that everyone else on the island perished in the flames."
Hubert Varrick listened with interest, but he never dreamed how vitally, in the near future, this catastrophe would concern him.
He thought of his strange visit to that place, and that no doubt the owner was none too sorry to see it laid to ashes, as he had acknowledged that it had caused him much annoyance owing to the uncanny rumors floating about that the place was haunted by a young and beautiful woman whose spirit would not be laid.
Then, in talking to Jessie during the next half hour he entirely forgot the fire that had occurred on that far-away island in the St. Lawrence.
He broached the subject that the architect had gone for good, narrowly watching Jessie"s pretty face as he told her.
"Oh! I am so sorry," she declared, disappointedly, "for he was such a nice young man; and in his spare moments he had promised to teach me to sketch;" and her lovely face clouded.
"Would not I do as well?" asked Hubert Varrick, gently, as his hand closed over the little white one so near his own.
The girl trembled beneath his touch. In that one moment her heart went from her, and she experienced the sweet elysium of a young life just awakening to love"s bewildering dream.
"Would I not make as good a teacher?" repeated Varrick, softly; and he bent his dark, handsome head, looking earnestly into the girl"s flushed face.
"Perhaps," she answered, evasively; and she was very much relieved to hear some one calling her at that moment.
Mrs. Varrick heard of the proposed sketching lessons with great displeasure. Despite all that she had done and said, she saw these two young people falling more and more in love with each other with every pa.s.sing day.
"How can I stop it? What shall I do?" she asked herself night after night, as she paced the floor of her _boudoir_.
She fairly cursed the hour that brought lovely, innocent little Jessie Bain beneath that roof, and she wished she knew of some way in which to get rid of the girl for good and all.
She paced the floor until the day dawned. A terrible scheme against the life and happiness of poor Jessie Bain had entered her brain--a scheme so dark and horrible that even she grew frightened as she contemplated it.
Then she set her lips together, muttering hoa.r.s.ely:
"I would do anything to part my son and Jessie Bain!"
CHAPTER IX.
GERELDA"S ESCAPE FROM WAU-WINET ISLAND.
The fire at Wau-Winet Island, as the papers had explained, had taken place during the owner"s absence. No one knew how it had happened; there seemed to be no one left to tell the tale.
When Captain Frazier returned that evening and found the place in ruins, he was almost wild with grief. In his own mind he felt that he knew how it had come about.
In her desperation to get away, Gerelda had fired the house. But, for all that, she had not succeeded in making her escape, as the flames must have overtaken her.
Those who watched Captain Frazier had great difficulty in preventing him from flinging himself headlong into the bay, he seemed so distracted over the loss of Gerelda, the girl whom he loved so sincerely.
The truth of the matter was, Gerelda had not fired the place. It had been caused by a spark from an open fire-place; and in the confusion and the darkness of the night she had succeeded in making her way out of the house and down to the sh.o.r.e.
With trembling hands she had untied one of the little boats which lay there rocking to and fro, had sprung into it, and ere the flames burst through the arched windows of the stone house she was far across the bay, and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. She had taken the precaution to seize a long cloak and veil belonging to the maid, and these she proceeded to don while in the boat.
By daylight she found herself drifting slowly toward a little village, and as the lights became clear enough to discern objects distinctly, she saw that the place was Kingston.
At this Gerelda was overjoyed, for she remembered her old nurse, whom she had not seen since early childhood, lived here. The sun was shining bright and clear when Gerelda Northrup stepped from the boat and wended her way up the gra.s.s-grown streets of the quaint little Canadian town.
By dint of inquiry here and there, she at length found the nurse"s home--a little cottage, almost covered with morning-glory vines, setting back from the main road.
Although the nurse had not seen Gerelda since she was a little child, she knew her the moment her eyes rested upon her face, and with a cry of amazement she drew back.
"Gerelda Northrup!" she gasped. "Is it you, Miss Gerelda, or do my eyes deceive me?"
She had heard of the great marriage that was to take place at the Crossmon Hotel, at Alexandria Bay, and heard, too, the whispered rumor of the bride-elect"s flight; and to see her standing there before her almost took Nurse Henderson"s breath away.
She looked past Gerelda, expecting to see some tall and handsome gentleman, with a grand carriage drawn up at the road-side, waiting for her. The girl seemed to interpret her thoughts.
"I have come alone," she said, briefly. "Won"t you bid me enter?"
"That I will, Miss Gerelda!" cried Nurse Henderson, laughing and crying over her.
But when she drew her into the house, and took off the long cloak she wore, she was startled beyond expression to see that she wore a bridal-dress all ruined and torn.
Nurse Henderson held up her hands in wild alarm.
"Oh, Miss Gerelda!" she cried; "what does it mean? I am terrified!"
"Do not ask me any questions, I pray; I am not able to answer them just yet. Some day I may tell you all, but not now."
The old nurse placed her on a sofa, begging her to rest herself, as she looked so pale and worn, saying that she might tell her anything she wished, a little later, when she was stronger.
It was a fortnight before Gerelda had strength to leave her old nurse"s home, and during that time she had made a _confidante_ of old Nurse Henderson, pledging her beforehand never to reveal the story she had told her. Nurse Henderson listened, horror-struck, to the story.
"I am going to see for myself, Henderson," she added, in conclusion, "just how much truth there is in this affair. If I find that Hubert Varrick has been so false to me, it will surely kill me. I am going there to see for myself."
"You do not seem to realize, my dear," said Nurse Henderson, "that the people say you eloped with his rival, and that he believes them."
"He should have had more confidence in me, no matter what the world says!" cried Gerelda, with flashing eyes. "He should have searched for me. I have often thought since, that Heaven intended just what has occurred to test his love for me. I firmly believe this. I intend to disguise myself, and go boldly to his home and see for myself whether the report is false or true. Of course, a rival would not stoop to make up any falsehood against him and pour it into my ears. You will help me to disguise myself, Henderson?"
"I have thought it all out," continued the heiress, "while I have been under this roof, and I have been trying to gain strength for the ordeal.
Let me tell it to you, Henderson, and you will marvel at my clever plan.
You know that from a child I could always do exquisite fancy-work. Well, I mean to make use of that talent. Mrs. Varrick--Hubert"s mother--has always said she would give anything to find a person willing to come to her home who could do just such fancy-work, and decorate her _boudoir_.
Now, I mean to go there in disguise, show her a sample of my work, and say that I gave many lessons to Gerelda Northrup, and she will be only too glad to have me come to her home at any price. Then I can see for myself just how much my lover is grieving over my loss. He may be pining away--ay, be at the very gates of death, probably. In that case I shall reveal my ident.i.ty at once.