London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"It is impossible, Fred. If you have forgotten all that was due to
Isabel, I cannot. No; and if aunt leaves this house I go with her."
"I insist then," cried Chester, angrily.
"No," said Marion, rising. "I must go. It is not right."
"I am the best judge of that," said Chester, firmly, and he retained her
hand. "Isabel, I never thought that we could ever stand in such a
position as this; but now, face to face, I feel bound to say once more,
forgive me, and to ask you to believe the simple truth--that I should
have been doing you a greater wrong in holding to our engagement and
making you my wife."
She looked up at him firmly, and his heart throbbed with pity for her
innocence and suffering, but there was no reproach in her clear,
steadfast gaze. He read in it that she unquestioningly yielded to her
fate; and at the end of a few moments her eyes fell towards the floor.
"You see," whispered Marion, faintly, "it is impossible. Let me go and
join them."
"And leave me?" he whispered. "Here, water--quick! Oh, if there is an
unfeeling creature upon the face of the earth, it is a woman at a time
like this. Can you not see that she is fainting after the most cruel
sufferings, and you all stand aside as if she were some leprous thing!
Hah! Isabel!"
"Yes, Fred," she said softly.
She went down on one knee and tenderly raised the fainting woman's head
till it rested upon her shoulder.
The touch seemed to revive Marion, and in a few moments she opened her
eyes and gazed wonderingly at the face so close to hers.
"You?" she said softly.
"Yes; I. He says you are suffering and in great peril. I am alone now
here in London, and if you will come with me, for his sake I will be to
you as a sister till the danger, whatever it may be, has passed."
"Ah!" sighed Marion, the spasm seeming to tear itself from her breast,
and she lay still for some moments with her eyes closed.
"Come--sister," whispered Isabel, and she bent down and pressed her lips
to the forehead so near her.
Marion's colour flushed to her temples, and she looked up wildly and
flung her arms about Isabel's neck, kissing her passionately.
"Yes," she said. "I will come."
There was a tap at the door, and Chester hurried across the room to
prevent the maid from entering.
"Yes," he said excitedly; "what is it?"
"If you please, sir, it is the police; two of them, and they say they
must see you directly."
"Great heavens!" cried Chester, wildly, as he turned and gazed at where
Marion had started to her feet and stood pale and ghastly, for she had
heard the words. "Too late--too late! Yes; I know. Marion, that
hound! that fiend! He is taken, and in his cowardly revenge he has sent
them here."
In the full belief that the police would be coming up to the room,
Chester ran to the door.
"Where are they?" he whispered sharply to the maid, who was wondering at
the undue excitement displayed.
"In the hall, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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