The beautiful coquette; or, The love that won her ...

Front matter

Gass.

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT

. New York.

Chapter 1. The Lovers

“ She looked so lovely as she bent And kissed her dainty finger-tips;

A man had given all other bliss,

And all his worldly worth for this —

To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.”

WOHBER if it is true that coming events cast their dark shadows on before? To-day of all days I should be happy, for Aurelia is corning home; and yet Some-

how there is a heavy oppression at iny heart, a sense of coming evil that I cannot shake off.

^^But, pshaw! I know it is wrong to allow my mind to run upon presentiments — they never come true;^^ and Margaret Lancaster, a pale, slight young girl, turned slowly from the cottage window where she had been standing — gazing dreamily out over the wheat fields, waving golden under the rays of the June sunshine — ci’ossed the room, and paused, with clasped Ijands, before two portraits hanging side by side on the opposite wall.

They were the portraits of two young and lovely girls

THE BEAUTIFUL COQUETTE.

—twill sisters— but as widely different in features as two mortals well could be.

The names carved on the gilded frames, read "'Margaret/^ and "Aurelia.-^"

In the portrait of Margaret, there was no mistaking the girl who stood before it, with her pale, sweet face, innocent blue eyes, and fair curling hair.

It was just such a face, with a pure white soul shining througli it, that the old masters gave to the faces of angels.

But Aurelia! How can I describe to you what Aurelia was like? The artist who painted the portrait went mad for love of her.

Aurelia had a dark, dimpled face, with the deep crimson of a wild resets heart on cheek and smiling, pouting lips; dark, curling hair, and wine-dark eyes, passionate and wholly irresistible.

They were danger signals that might have warned men, but somehow they always courted the danger of looking into them.

A face like Aurelia^s was never painted upon the pictured faces of angels; rather of the beauties of the gilded salons of Paris.

They were only seventeen, these twin sisters — Margaret and Aurelia Lancaster — whose past was so bitter, and whose future was to be the strangest that ever pen portrayed.

Alas, how cruel it was that the love of one man was destined to wreck the life of both!

How long Margaret stood there in silent contemplation of the portrait, she never knew. She was startled by a step and a cheery voice outsidi3 that brought the color to her face in a great surging glow.

The door was swung hastily open, and a tall, stalwart young man, with a fair, handsome face, came hurriedly into the room.

"Ah, here you are, Margaret, he said, cheerily, advancing and taking one of her little hands in his. " I have been looking everywhere for you. I might have known that I should find you here before Aurelia^s portrait. Why, this is perfect idolatry, I should say, Margaret. I do not quite like it.^^-- •

The girl laughed a low, happy, sweet laugh.

You must idolize Aurelia, too, for my sake, Gerald,"^ she said, softly. ^^Slie is so bright — so beautiful.’^

Gerald Romaine bent his fair, handsome head and kissed the lily-white hands he held.

Very generous of my-wife-that-is-to-be, making arrangements for a place in my heart for another, ’Mie said, amusedly.

^^But it is only for Aurelia,” she answered, opening lier blue eyes wide, and for nobody else.”

Aurelia will, indeed, be very dear to me for yoitr sake, Margaret,” he responded; ^^but forgive me for clianging the subject; I must tell you, hurriedly, that wdiich I have sought you to say. And that is, that I cannot go over to the train; I have just received a telegram from New York which requires my presence there for the next two days. I start immediately. Father will be at the station to meet Aurelia. I am sorry, indeed, not to be here to welcome he]-, but it cannot be helped, dear. I have barely time to snatch one good-bye kiss. I must be off, Margaret.”

A moment later her fair, handsome lover was waving her adieu as he galloped past the window, and wasquickly lost to sight in a bend of the road.

Margaret turned away from the window with a beating heart.

‘^How good Heaven is to give me his love,” she murmured, softly; it was the one gift of God tliat I craved and prayed for above all others. I wonder, despite the fact that the wedding-day is already set, if I really am to be his wife? It seems too great a joy to be real.”

^‘Margaret — Margaret, child! where are you?” called another voice. This time it was Mrs. Romaine summoning her, from the old farmhouse kitchen, where all manner of good things known to culinary art were in a state of preparation in honor of Aurelia’s" coming.

I do hope Aurelia will be glad to get home, but I almost doubt it,” said Mrs. Romaine, seating herself on the cool, wide doorstep, and fanning herself vigorously with her gingham apron.

What a deal of difference there is between you two sisters, anyhow,” she went on, energetically; you are as sensible as an old woman, Margaret, and Aurelia is that feather-brained

A little white hand came down suddenly over her lips.

Don’t speak in that way of Aurelia,” said Margaret, in a pained voice; ^‘indeed, you hurt me, dear Mrs. Komaine. She is willful, roguish, gay, but she has a true heart — dear little Aurelia.”

Mrs. Eomaine shrugged her shoulders, but answered never a word. Margaret would not have been pleased had she known what her thoughts were.

The story of the presence of these two young girls in the Eomaine household v^as certainly a sad one — a few words will explain how it came about.

Sixteen years before, the Eomaines had kept the village inn down at the fork of the roads, and the hospitable, cheery place was known far and wide from the travelers who had chanced to pass that way.

One dark, stormy night — ah! how well Mrs. Eomaine remembei’ed it — the driver of the stage, who always stopped there to change horses, deposited a traveler at the inn— a young and lovely woman — traveling alone, save for the two wee mites she carried in her arms. Despite the storm, Mrs. Eomaine hurried out to meet her, and relieve the pale, slight creature of her burden.

^^Come right into the sitting-room, ma^am,” she cried, cheerily. Lord bless me! it/s an awful night to be traveling, and alone; are you going far?”

I was to have gone to New York — but I — I took the wrong train,” said the stranger witli a sob in lier voice.

— I — was not used to traveling, you see,” she went on piteously. The hurrying crowds, the clanging bells, and deafening sounds confused me. I found out my mistake when the conductor came around to take up the tickets — they told me it would be best to stop off at the next station — stop over night at this inn, and take the early morning train down at the cross-roads for New York — and I followed their advice!”

It was certainly the best you could have done,” assented Mrs. Eomaine, proceeding to unwrap the folds of the heavy shawls that enveloped the babies. She gave a cry of delight as she saw them; never, in the whole course of her life, had she beheld anythipg so beautiful

THE BEAUTIFUL COQUETTE.

as the two infantile faces turned simultaneously and wonderingly toward her — one dark — the other fair.

^^What beautiful darlingsT^ she cried, with all a woman’s rapture; ^^are they twins?”

A quick, sharp cry broke from the lips of the woman cowering over the blazing fire.

Mrs. Romaine asked the question a second time before she answered yes.”

^^Of course you want a nice room with a comfortable fire in it and a hot supper,” said Mrs. Romaine briskly.

I’ll see that you have it at once, and I’ll come and help you with the little ones.”

You are very kind,” said the lady, laying a detaining hand on Mrs. Romain(3’s arm — ^‘but I shall not require any supper — food would choke me — I vvant only — rest — rest ” and the words ended in a heavy sob.

But the children would like something to eat, wouldn’t’ you, dears?” asked Mrs. Romaine, stooping and kissing their velvety lips.

A little later Mrs. Romaine announced that the room was ready, and soon after the trio were ensconced in it.

^^I wish you would let me bring you a glass of wine at least,” she said, turning toward the door — ^^you look so

very pale, ma’am — like you might faint ”

, ^^Ido feel weak,” assented the stranger — yes, you may bring me the wine if you like, I ”

The sentence never was finished; there was a low, stified cry, and the beautiful lady who had been standing with hands outstretched before the fire, staggered suddenly backward and sunk down apparently lifeless at Mrs. Romaine’s feet.

In a trice Mrs. Romaine had raised her in her arms.

^^My God!” she cried out in horror as her eyes fell on the ghastly face and staring eyes, she is dead!”

But no — the heart beat faintly. The thread of life in that fair body was loath to snap in twain so easily — but there was a grayish pallor on the cheek and lips that struck terror to Mrs. Romaine’s heart.

Restoratives were quickly applied, and strong brandy forced between the white lips, but it was all useless.

Mercy on us!” cried Mrs. Romaine in great alarm to the housemaid whom she had summoned^ the lady is dyingF^

Chapter II. A Thoughtless Moment The Vow Was Wrung From Her Lips

But even as Mrs. Eomaine spoke, the lady’s eyes opened slowly, and she cast a strange, yearning look into the kind, homely, pitying face bending over her.

^^Am I dying?” she gasped; ‘^tell me the truth, am I really dying? Answer me — do not mislead me.”

I am afraid so, my poor soul,” replied Mrs. Eomaine, huskily. I have sent for a doctor, but the nearest one lives many a mile away.”

That was — useless,” murmured the stranger; my time has come, I feel it in my heart; oh, the poor babies — the poor little ones.”

A terrible convulsion shook her frame as she spoke, which was rapidly followed by a second and a third, and looking at the white, stark face, Mrs. Eomaine saw that the shadow of death was indeed creeping over it.

Oh, if the flickering flame of life might but last until the doctor arrived. But it was not to be. The stranger grew worse so rapidly that Mrs. Eomaine'^s alarm increased with each passing moment.

^^My life is ebbing out!” she gasped, speaking with difficulty; ^‘but, oh, I cannot die with the dark, horrible story I have to tell — untold. For the love of Heaven, send for a minister; I should not rest in my grave, though they buried me fathoms deep, with this on my soul.”

Oh, lady,” sobbed Mrs. Eomaine, pityingly, there isn’t a minister this side of Stillwell, and that’s twenty odd miles from here. Is it aiy thing you could tell me, poor soul?”

The strangely luminous eyes turned upon her, and their steady gaze seemed to burn down into the very depths of her soul — she felt almost afraid of being all alone with the dying stranger.

^^Oh, God, if I could but trust you,” the pale lips murmured.

THE BEAUTIFVL COQUETTE, 9

Yon can trust. me/^ replied Mrs. Komaine with simple dignity.

Take a solemn vow that you will never betray that wliich I have to say to you — swear it, make your oath so binding that nothing on this earth could tempt you to break it!

‘^No word that you may confide in me shall ever pass my lips in life or even on the threshold of death — say that — swear it!^^

Mrs. Eornaine repeated the awesome words slowly after her, and in the dark time to come she would have given her life if that solemn oath had not been wrung from her lips.

Lock the door and come closer,^’ she whispered faintly, but first put the two little babes in my arms."^^

Mrs. Komaine did as requested, but to her amazement she noticed that all the mother-love of the dying woman seemed to be showered upon the dark-eyed infant. She was apparently utterly oblivious to the presence of the other child.

Oh, I am so young to die and leave her all alone,^^ she wailed.

Please Heaven, she will still have her little sister,’^ said Mrs. Komaine gently, but the woman did not hear.

Listen,’^ she cried, ^Hhe curse that falls on the daughters of the house of Lancaster hangs over her head. That is the reason, perhaps, that I have loved Aurelia best,^^ she admitted piteously. (pointing to fair-

haired Margaret), "‘will never know great sorrow, she will pass through life calmly. The sword will fall on Aurelia^s head — only on Aurelia^s.

“It maybe kept from her for long years, but it will overtake lier at last, in all the freshness of her girlish beauty, the horrible story will burst upon the world like a skeleton stalking forth from its charnel house, and

then Oh, God! help jsny beautiful little Aurelia. I

dare not think what will happen then,^^ and the hapless young mother kissed the tiny rose-bud face, all the passion and anguish of love shining in her dying eyes.

“ Listen P’ she cried again, turning to Mrs. Komaine. “ Let me tell you, while I have the strength, the most pitiful story that ever darkened a human life, and made me wonder if there is peace and safety to be found on the wide earth, and justice in heaven. You will realize, when I have confessed all, that I am right in praying God in this, my dying hour, that Aurelia may never love; for she, the last dark-eyed daughter of the accursed race of the Lancasters, must never uiarry. Bend closer, while I tell you why. Oh, Aurelia, Aurelia, why must the sin of another fall on your innocent head, and blot out love, happiness and faith? I

The sentence was never finished. A violent spasm shook her slender frame, and her face grew rigid. How she tried to beat back the wave of death for one brief moment! How her fiuttering soul clung to its tenement of clay, to do the bidding of her will, one terrible instant! But, alas! the words froze on her stiffening lips in a bitter wail. The vital secret, which was to bring a world of woe to so many lives, was destined to remain unrevealed until the fatal time she had foretold. She had fallen back upon her pillow — dead.

That was an experience in Eachel Eomaine’s life that always stood out clear. She never forgot how they searched for some clew to trace where Mrs. Lancaster's home was — where her friends could be found; but there was not so much as a line about her to aid them in the search. So they buried her in the little churchyard hard by, and turned their attention to the two stray waifs who had been thrust so unceremoniously upon their hands.

The neighbors advised that they be sent to the home for foundlings, but this neither John Eomaine nor his good wife would agree to do.

We have enough and to spare, Eachel, said John; ^^we will keep the twin babies, and do for them as though they were our own. That will not cause us to love our own son Gerald any the less — bless the boy^s heart !^’

Thus it came to pass that the little ones, Margaret and Aurelia, became the protegees of John and Eachel Eomaine; and fine sport they were for Master Gerald, their ten-year-old son, who was never tired of looking at the pretty white fairies, as he called them.

Swiftly — very swiftly it seemed to Mrs. Eomaine— the years rolled on, and brought with them many changes.

The Eomaines no longer kept the village inn. For years they had been domiciled at Eomaine Farm, some distance down the valley; and here it was, in this isolated spot, that the two waifs their humble roof sheltered blossomed into lovely girlhood.

But one event happened in those early years to cast a slight gloom over the household, and that was the departure of Gerald Eomaine for college.

That was the last that Aurelia saw of him for long years.

The time came at length when it was decided that the girls must have a better education than the village school hard by afforded the*m, for they were fourteen now. Then it was that the wide difference between the natures of sweet Margaret and willful, impetuous Aurelia became apparent.

When Farmer Eomaine announced to them that he had made arrangements to send them to a boarding-school in Eichmond, Margaret sobbed as though her heart would break at the very thought of leaving the dear old farm and those who had been so dear to her; but Aurelia’s joy was intense; she could not ask questions enough as to how soon they were to start, and when the day came it was the happiest of her life.

The first three weeks that Margaret and Aurelia spent at Miss Hulburton^s ^^fashionable seminary for young ladies,’^ neither of the girls ever forgot. Margaret was timid and very shy of strangers, cried herself sick with longing for the sight of the dear old farm again, with the scent of the pink clover and the honeysuckle about it, and the dear old faces there. Aurelia could not endure to hear it mentioned.

^^How can you ever bear to think of our little attic room and- the stuffy parlor, as they call it down-stairs, after seeing these magnificent reception-rooms and the spacious grounds? Bah! But perhaps, ’^continued Aurelia, flippantly, ‘‘I was intended for a lady, Margaret, and you were not.’’

I suppose that must be the way of it, dear,” returned Margaret, thoughtfully, thinking everything Aurelia said must be quite right.

In the seminary, as everywhere else, Aurelia was the best loved — gay, restless, piquant — her faults and follies were more charming than other girls’ virtues in every one s eyes. All the girls of the seminary fairly adored Aurelia, and Margaret was well content that it should be so.

These three weeks at the seminary was dark ones for Margaret. Aurelia enjoyed the new life immensely — all but the studying.

Margaret wrote home every day, but there was never a line from Aurelia. And by the tone of Margaret^s letters, they guessed at the farmhouse how homesick she was.

I reckon Til have to take a run down to Eichmond, and cheer the lassies up a bit,^^ decided Farmer Eomaine;

iFs only natTal thet theyTe feelin^ cast down. They^e never been five miles away from the old farm before, bless their pretty heads! Their Uncle John, as they call me, can set ^em straight.'’^

The old farmer put his determination into execution at once, though he came near changing his mind half a dozen times in the interim, declaring that he should hardly spare the time to go, for the clover-fields down by the bridge wanted mowing, and he had promised to see some hands about hay-making. With great effort, his wife got him started off at last.

It was the noon-hour when he reached the seminary. Seeing so many lovely young girls on the lawn quite bewildered him. He stopped short as he was advancing up the broad, paved walk, and, wiping his spectacles, peered eagerly about to discern Margaret and Aurelia among them.

Both girls were on the lawn at the time. Aurelia saw him first. In that instant two hands as cold as ice clutched Margaret^s arm, and a horrified voice gasped in her ear:

^^Oh! see what they are all making fun of — it^s Uyicle John! Don’t look in that direction; if he should see us and come this way, I should die of shame — I should, indeed, Margaret!”

And at that instant, in a voice as loud as a fog-horn, the old farmer called lustily:

Margaret — Aurelia! where are you, girls?”

THE BEAUTIFUL COQUETTE.

CHAPTER IIL

I KEVER LOVE, I SHALL NEVER MARRYT

Farmer Romaine certainly presented a very ludicrous appearance as he stood there. He never looked his best dressed up in his Sunday clothes; he felt decidedly just as he looked — awkward. He never was at his ease in a high starched collar and a cravat.

For the love of Heaven don^t let him see us/^ panted Aurelia, under her breath, with horror-stricken eyes; ‘‘leCs run away, Margaret, and hide until after he goes.^^

For the first time in all her gentle life an angry fire leaped into MargarePs sweet blue eyes.

Oh, Aurelia, how can you talk so?^^ she cried, distressedly; "^you grieve me beyond words — for shame!"" and she tore herself free from Aurelia"s detaining hands, and fiew like a swallow over the greensward, throwing herself with a cry of joy into Farmer Romaine"s arms. How could the girls laugh and make fun of this dear old Uncle John whom she loved with all her heart?

At length he called eagerly for Aurelia, but to Margaret"s dismay Aurelia was nowhere to be found.

Seeing his dear old face once more was too much for Margaret; she clung to him with kisses and tears, beseeching him to take her home with him when he went.

‘^Bean"t this only a whim, child?"" he asked, anxiously. ^^Are you quite sure, Margy, that you"d rather be at the old farm than here?""

Quite sure,"" replied the girl, firmly, ^^do not leave me here, uncle.""

He was not proof against her entreaties, and when he left Hulberton Seminary, Margaret went with him. They found Aurelia waiting to greet her uncle John at the bend in the road — where all the girls could not witness it, she had said to herself. Her surprise to find Margaret with him, and to learn that she was going home with him, was great.

should pine away if I were to stay here any longer,"" said Margaret jiiteously, do come with us, dear.""

‘‘She shall decide for herself,"" said John Romaine, laying his rough, kindly hand on the beautiful dark curly head. Book-learnin^ may do her a heap sight more good than chasin^ butterflies round the old farm, eh, Aurelia?'^

shall stay here, even though it parts ns, Margaret, said Aurelia, drawing back from Farmer Eomaine^s outstretched hand. cannot go back to that dreary farm-life, I would die of ennui

So the twin sisters were parted for the flrst time in their lives, whether it was for weal or for woe, is the story we have to tell.

For some time Aurelia’s letters came regularly to the farmhouse; then, at length, they became less frequent — when vacation time came Aurelia pleaded so hard to be permitted to spend it with some one of her schoolmates that John Eomaine had not the heart to refuse her.

Margaret Lancaster’s life at the farm would have been happy enough but for one drawback; for three long years that winged their slow flights by, she had not looked upon Aurelia’s face. She would have been inexpressibly lonely but for anew element that had crept inco her life, and that was the happiness that the return home of Gerald Eomaine brought to her.

It had been long years since he had parted from Margaret, and he could scarcely believe that the tall, fair, shy young girl who advanced to greet him was, indeed, the little Margaret whom he had left behind him.

Thrown constantly together during the happy days that followed, was it any wonder that Margaret learned to love Gerald Eomaine with all the strength of her heart? But she would have died ere she would have let him read her sweet secret by either glance or word.

lie was certainly a handsome man — tall, broad-shouldered and musculur, with a cheery face and laughing blue eyes. The brow, from which the dark-brown hair was pushed carelessly back, was broad and high, and the thick, brown mustache covered a mouth that alone would have stamped his face, could it have been seen, as honest, noble and true.

The love-story of Margaret Lancaster and Gerald Eomaine did not have even the usual romance about it. Probably Gerald would never have looked upon fair, pale

Miirgaret in the liglit of a sweetheart if the idea had not been suggested to him.

Mrs. Romaine was the first to notice that Margaret’s heart was going out to Gerald, and she was well pleased. She read her secret in a thousand different ways — in the sudden fiush at the sound of his footstep, of the girl’s sweet, unnatural shyness in his presence, of the delight it seemed to give her to talk of him in his absence; and she saw, too, that Gerald was quite unconscious of it all.

She resolved upon a very diplomatio action; she would see if there was any possibility of Gerald’s evei' caring for Marg^-et; if not, she would warn the girl to never let her heart go out to any man until he had shown some preference or love for herself.

A good opportunity occurred to put her resolution into execution on the very day that it was made She saw Gerald pacing up and down under the trees in the orchard, smoking a cigar. She threw a light shawl about her shoulders, and joined him there. He looked delighted.

It is not often that you come out to have a chat with me, mother mine,” he said, putting his white, strong hands on both of her shoulders, and looking down into her eyes a moment, then escorting her to a rustic seat.

wanted to have a talk with you, Gerald,” she said;

not a chat, but an earnest, sober talk.”

He laughed heartily.

About my inventions?” he asked.

Yes, about them, and about what you would do if your dreams of making fame and fortune out of them came true.”

I have never given it a thought,” he said, leaning carelessly back against the gnarled trunk of an old apple-tree, taking the cigar from his mouth with his white fingers, and blowing the curling wreaths of blue smoke thoughtfully away.

have thought of it,” she said, her voice trembling a little as she looked up at her strong, handsome son, whom she fairly idolized.

^^Have you?” he said, laughing good-humoredly.

Pray unfold your plans to me, mother!”

I slioiiltl like yon to marry aiid-settle down, Gerald/^ she answered, very quietly.

There was nothing but sheer amazement in the face that looked back at her through the smoke-clouds.

^^Have you never thought of it, Gerald?’^ she asked, earnestly.

Upon my honor — no, mother, he responded, quickly.

It is strange. I wonder why you have not, Gerald?’^ she queried, eagerly; most young men have thoughts of marrying — donT they, my dear?’^

Your question is very easily answered, my dear mother,^’ he replied, smiling. No man ever thinks of marrying until he happens to see the right one that awakens his sleeping heart to the feeling called — love; until he meets and recognizes, by some unknown law, the one being above all others whom he believes Heaven intended for hirn.'’^

And have you never met such a one yet, Gerald?” she asked, in a very low voice.

^‘No,” he said, thoughtfully, never.”

Heaven help poor, pretty Margaret,” was her mental comment.

You do not know — no one but a mother can know or understand — how I worry over your future, my dear,” she said; ^^if you marry unwisely, your whole life will be wrecked.”

What if I never marry at all?” he questioned.

You are so brave and handsome, you will be sure to marry, dear,” she declared.

^^Does such a prospect please you?” he asked, amusedly.

^^It is the one thought of my life, Gerald,” she answered, huskily; adding, slowly: It is said that men who are reckless and wicked. Heaven repays with reckless wives or children.”

‘^Then I can feel safe on that score, mother,” he answered seriously; ^^I have never been reckless— I have never trilled with women, and made their hearts failgame; I have reverenced all your sex for your sake, mother.”

^‘I should like to know your opinion on a subject that

THE EEAUTIEUL COQUETTE. Vi

has been weighing very heavily on my mind for some time past, Gerald, she said.

‘‘ You have but to speak, mother, he answered, seating himself on the rustic bench beside her.

Suppose,^^ said Mrs. Eomaine slowly, ^Hhat a girl, young and beautiful — all that is most graceful and gracious, meets a man and likes him so well that her liking grows into love for him, and that love takes possession of her, should you think less of this young girl for her great secret affection for this man who had shown no signs of any for her?^^

‘‘No, certainly not,^Mie replied* ‘‘to love or not to love is ordained by a higher power. It is not her fault, it is her fate to love him.^^

“ Would you think it prudent, or discreet if some of her friends, some one who loved her, told him of it?^^