She bound her hands tightly across her eyes, shutting out the loathsome face, and in the intensity of her agony and dread she groaned aloud. If it were true, could she hear it, and live? What would Mr. Lindsay think, if he could see that coa.r.s.e brutal man claiming her as his daughter? What would her haughty guardian say, if he who so sedulously watched over her movements, and fastidiously chose her a.s.sociates, could look upon her now?

Born in a. hospital, owning that repulsive countenance there beside her as parent?

Heavy cold drops oozed out, and glistened on her brow, and she shivered from head to foot, rocking herself to and fro.

Almost desperate as she thought of the mysterious circ.u.mstances that seemed to entangle her mother as in some inextricable net, the girl suddenly started up, and exclaimed:

"It is a fraud, a wicked fraud, or you would never have left me so long in peace. My father was, must have been, a gentleman; I know, I feel it! You are--you--Save me, O Lord in heaven, from such a curse as that!"

He grasped her arm and hissed:

"I am poor and obscure, it is true; but Peterson is better than no name at all, and if you are not my child, then you have no name. That is all; take your choice."

What a pall settled on earth and sky! The sun shining so brightly in the west grew black, and a shadow colder and darker than death seized her soul. Was it the least of alternate horrors to accept this man, acknowledging his paternal claim, and thereby defend her mother's name? How the lovely sad face of that young mother rose like a star, gilding all this fearful blackness; and her holy abiding faith in her mother proved a strengthening angel in this Gethsemane.

Rallying, she forced herself to look steadily at her companion.

"You say that your name is Peleg Peterson; why did you never come openly to the parsonage and claim me? I know that my mother was married in that house, by Mr. Hargrove."

"Because I never could find out where you were hid away, until my aunt, Hannah Hinton, told me the week before the great storm. Then she promised me the marriage license, which she had found in a desk at the parsonage, on condition that I would not disturb you; as she thought you were happy and well-cared for, and would be highly educated, and I was too miserably poor to give you any advantages.

You know the license was burned by lightning, else I would show it to you."

"Proving that you are my mother's legal husband?"

"Certainly, else what use do you suppose I had for it."

"Oh no! You intended to sell it. Hannah told me so."

"No such thing. Minnie does not want to own me now, and I intended to show the license to the father of the man for whom she deserted both you and me. She has followed him to Europe, though she knows he is a married man."

"It is false! How dare you! You shall not slander her dear name. My mother could never have done that! There is some foul conspiracy to injure her; not another word against her! No matter what may have happened, no matter how dark and strange things look, she was not to blame. She is right, always right; I know, I feel it! I tell you, if the sun and the stars, and the very archangels in heaven accused her, I would not listen, I would not believe--no--never! She is my mother, do you hear me? She is my mother, and G.o.d's own angels would go astray as soon as she!"

She looked as white and rigid as a corpse twelve hours dead, and her large defiant eyes burned with a supernatural l.u.s.tre.

He comprehended the nature with which he had to deal, and after a pause, said sullenly:

"Minnie does not deserve such a child, and it is hard that you, my own flesh and blood, refuse to recognize me. Regina, I am desperately poor, or I would take you now, forcibly if necessary; and if Minnie dared deny my claim, I would publish the facts in a court of justice.

Even your guardian is deceived, and many things would come to light, utterly disgraceful to you, and to your father and mother. But at present I cannot take care of you, and I am in need, actual need.

Will my child see her own father want bread and clothing, and refuse to a.s.sist him? Can you not contribute something toward my support, until I can collect some money due me? If you can help me a little now, I will try to be patient, and leave you where you are, in luxury and peace; at least till I can hear from Minnie, to whom I have written."

"Why do you not go at once to my guardian, and demand me?"

"If you wish it I will, before sunset. Come, I am ready. But when I do, the facts will be blazoned to the world, and you and Minnie and I shall all go down together in disgrace and ruin. If you are willing to drag all the shameful history into the papers, I am ready now."

He rose, but she shrank away, and putting her hand in her pocket, became aware of the loss of her purse. Had she been robbed, or had she dropped her _porte-monnaie_ in the carriage?

"I have not a cent with me. I have lost my purse since I left home."

She saw the gloomy scowl that lowered on his brow. "When can you give me some money? Mind, it must not be known that I am literally begging. I am as proud, my daughter, as you are, and if people find out that I am getting alms from you, I shall explain that it is from my own child I receive aid."

A feeble gleam of hope stole across her soul, and rapidly she reflected on the best method of escape.

"I have very little money, but to-morrow I will send you through the post office every cent I possess. How shall I address it?"

He shook his head.

"That would not satisfy me. I want to see you again, to look at your sweet face. Do you think I do not love my child? Meet me here this time to-morrow."

Each word smote like pelting hailstones, and he saw all her loathing printed on her face.

"I have an engagement that may detain me beyond this hour; but if I live, I will be as punctual as circ.u.mstances permit."

"If you tell Palma you have seen me, he must know everything, for Minnie has hired him to help her deceive you and the world, and all the while she has kept the truth from him. Shrewd as he is, she has completely duped him. If he learns you have been with me, I shall unmask everything; and when he washes his hands of you and your mother, I will take you where you shall never lay your eyes again on the two who have taught you to hate me--Minnie and Palma. My child, do you understand me?"

She shuddered as he leaned toward her, and stepping back, she answered resolutely:

"That threat will prove very effectual. I will meet you here, bringing the little money I have, and will keep this awful day a secret from all but G.o.d, who never fails to protect the right."

"You promise that?"

"What else is left me? My guardian shall know nothing from me until I can hear from my mother, to whom I shall write this night. Do not detain me. My absence will excite suspicion."

"Good-bye, my daughter."

He held out his hand.

She looked at him, and her lips writhed as she tried to contemplate for an instant the bare possibility that after all he might be her parent. She forced herself to hold out her left hand which was gloved, but he had scarcely grasped her fingers, when she s.n.a.t.c.hed them back, turned and darted away, while he called after her:

"This time to-morrow. Don't fail."

The glory of the world, and the light of her young life had suddenly been extinguished, and fearful spectres vague and menacing thronged the future. Death appeared a mere trifle in comparison with the lifelong humiliation, perhaps disgrace, that was in store for her; and bitterly she demanded of fate, why she had been reared so tenderly, so delicately, in an atmosphere of honour and refinement, if destined to fall at last into the hands of that coa.r.s.e vicious man? The audacity of his claim almost overwhelmed her faint hope that some infamous imposture was being practised at her expense; and the severity of the shock, the intensity of her mental suffering, rendered her utterly oblivious of everything else.

At another time she would doubtless have heard and recognized a familiar step that followed her from the moment she quitted the square; but to-day, almost stupefied, she hurried along the pavement, mechanically turning the corners, looking neither to right nor left.

Fifth Avenue was a long way off, and it was late in the afternoon when she reached home, and ran up to her own room, anxious to escape observation.

Hattie was arranging some towels on the washstand, and turning around, exclaimed:

"Good gracious, miss! You are as white as the coverlid on the bed! I guess something has happened?"

"I am not well. I am tired, so tired. Have they all come home?"

"Yes, and there will be company to dinner. Two gentlemen, Terry said.

Are you going to wear that dress?"

"I don't want any dinner. If they ask for me, tell Mrs. Palma I feel very badly, and that I beg she will excuse me. Where is Olga?"

"Busy tr.i.m.m.i.n.g her overskirt with flowers. You know Mrs. Tarrant gives her ball to-night, and Miss Olga says she has saved herself, rested all day, to be fresh for it. Lou-Lou has just come to dress her hair. What a pity you can't go too, you look quite old enough.

Miss Olga has such a gay, splendid time."