The midnight elopement

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Chapter I. A Risky Business

1 1 So, my boy, you are in love ? And you think you have secured the best little woman living? I sincerely hope so for your own sake, for a man’s future depends very much on the woman he marries. It is a risky business to say the least.”

And as Dr. Wayne spoke he laid his hand tenderly on his young friend’s shoulder, but there was a sad light in his eye, and he looked even more dejected than usual.

This was certainly the first intimation that Edward Hawley had received that the doctor’s married life was not as harmonious as it should have been — for in what other way could he have construed his friend’s utterances ?

Personally, Dr. Wayne might have been called handsome. It is true, he was slightly humpbacked, which deformity was not so much noticed perhaps by strangers as felt by himself. In this respect he was abnormally sensitive, being under the impression at times that he was either pitied or scorned for his affliction ; and both feelings were extremely irritating to one of his keen sensibilities and cultured mind.

His features were massive and regular, with kindly gray eyes shining out from beneath clearly-marked brows ; his mustache and hair were of a dark brown, silken and glossy to a degree ; and although not over thirty- five years, there were lines of suffering on his brow and about his mouth which made him look many years older.

In fact Dr. Wayne had suffered and had suffered in silence; his married life had been unhappy, but his natural reticence had concealed this from even his most intimate friends.

“My dear doctor,” returned Edward earnestly, “ I thank you a thousand times for your deep interest in my welfare, and I know you mean what you have said for my good ; but indeed if you knew Agnes you would not think it necessary to feel the slightest anxiety as to my future. She is so far above others of her sex in every particular — so sweet, so good. In fact,” he added with ardent pride, “she is the dearest little woman in the world.”

Dr. Wayne smiled pityingly at his friend’s enthusiasm. He remembered how he too had thought thus of his wife some ten years before, yet his life with her had been a miserable disappointment. And now, he fancied he saw a similar experience mapped out for his friend. Edward was but twenty-five — the same age at which he had fallen in love. He did not consider that the woman Edward loved might be utterly different to his wife, or that the style of woman he detested, his friend might admire. He saw only that the young man was on the verge of doing an act which might mar his whole life, and with the impulse of his strong sympathy he longed to save him. Accordingly he said :

“Edward, life is poor indeed to a loving nature without a woman’s affection; it is bare and empty. But there' is something worse — a wife who does not love or understand you; who may be intelligent, but unsuited to you, tender to others, but heartless to her husband, perhaps only because she cannot love him. Love is terrible as well as sublime; it cannot be forced and a man is only a child in experience concerning married life if he has never been married. It is surprising the world is as good as it is, when one considers how ill-mated so many people are. Were you to marry this girl whom you say you love, you might lead a happy life together, but, your choice would be the one in a hundred, or the midnight elopement.

S more likely one in a thousand that would so result. Now let me advise you in this matter. You are young, and I suppose she is too ’’

“ She is eighteen."

“ Very well; then I would advise you to wait four or five years longer before you think of marrying. See more of the young lady ; analyze her mind, and see if you are adapted to each other. At your age, it is hard to judge as to whether one will be happy through life in the companionship of a woman one has known but a short time. Many a man, Edward, has wished he had the experience at twenty-five that he must attain probably at thirty or thirty-five. Why ? Because he would then have acted differently. And in how many, many cases does this mean — the choice of his life mate ! ’’

Wayne ground out the last words with much bitterness ; but to Hawley, his tone meant only that he wished to impress him with th$ importance of his advice.

“ Doctor," he began, after a moment’s hesitation, his voice thrilling with a sincere belief in what he uttered : “ there could not be a more perfect little woman in existence, or one more thoroughly adapted to me than Agnes. Now, won’t you give me your best wishes ? "

As he ceased speaking, the young man extended his hand which Wayne took in a friendly grasp.

“ Well, well, Edward, I hope you will be happy ! But I fear you only see what is good in the young woman. She may be sweet-tempered and beautiful and all that, but are you sure she will be a fit companion for your manhood — that she will be the sharer of your cares, the confidant of your hopes and ambitions, the helpmate and comforter of your sterner years ? Are you sure she will always be as charming as she is now to you, or as she might be in the first few years of wedded life when cares are few ? ’ ’

“ I question if I have ever considered what you have just

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alluded to, but I am quite sure Agnes Bonnard would meet every one of those requirements. At any rate, I shall risk it, trusting that my marriage to her will result happily.”

Edward spoke earnestly and seemed unable just then to release the doctor’s hand which he still held.

“Am I disturbing you in a rehearsal of handshaking ? ” questioned a blithe voice at this moment.

The hands of both men instinctively fell apart as they started and glanced at the speaker.

She stood in the doorway of the room ; her tall, queenly form, in its snug-fitting, dark blue gown, revealed every outline of her perfect figure. The light of the lamp fell full upon a face you would unhesitatingly have pronounced lovely. The blue eyes were large and lustrous ; the parted, smiling lips revealed pearl-like teeth, the skin was as daintily tinted as a child’s, and the rich, nut-brown hair, piled upon her head, was soft as silk.

Mrs. Wayne, at thirty-two, was as charming and beautiful a woman as you could well meet.

The doctor looked indifferently at his wife, then walked to the bookcas(T and soon became absorbed in the pages of a volume of poetry, while Hawley advanced to meet his fair hostess.

A moment’s silence followed as she seated herself, then looking up, and smiling she said to the young man :

11 Will you not admit me into the secret of your handshaking a few moments ago ? ”

“ I was merely saying I hoped my married life, when I do marry, will result as happily — as the doctor’s,” Hawley said somewhat hesitatingly.

“ You seem to have a notion then of marrying? ”

“ I had no such idea until very recently,” said Hawley, an embarrassed flush mounting his temples, “ but now — ”

“ Well, well, I hope the young lady is worthy of you, Mr. Hawley ; and I’m sure, I wish you every happiness,” interrupted Mrs. Wayne with a gracious smile.

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“She is indeed — more than worthy of me; but the doctor seems to think I ought to wait a few years before taking a wife.”

“ And I repeat it ! You ought to wait at least five years, Edward,” said Dr. Wayne sharply, glancing up from his book. “ A young man of your age is likely to fancy a pretty face, and rush impetuously into matrimony : five or ten years later he may have cause to regret it. So, my boy, take care ! ”

“ But you married at twenty-five,” interrupted Mrs. Wayne, acridly.

“ Quite true,” was the doctor’s cold reply.

“Perhaps you regret having married so young? ” she questioned in a mocking tone.

It is in tormenting moments like these that our natures are roused to assert themselves. A flush reddened Dr. Wayne’s cheeks ; his eyes flashed with anger. He forgot the presence of Edward Hawley under the influence of his passion. The grosser side of his nature was spurred into terrible action. The words his wife had spoken had struck deeper into his heart, than had she driven a knife into it. Hot, stormy words which had lain dormant in his spirit, struggling for utterance for many a year, arose to his lips.

But just as he was about to give voice to them, a knock at the room door interrupted him. A moment later, in answer to Mrs. Wayne’s “ Come in,” the door opened, and a maidservant appeared and said, looking at Wayne :

“ If you please, sir, there’s a gentleman who would like to see you.”

With a muttered apology, the doctor followed her from the room.

Edward Hawley, who had been an unwilling witness to this scene, breathed a sigh of relief as Wayne disappeared, thus avoiding what would no doubt have ended in a serious quarrel.

Mrs. Wayne, too, looked relieved and seemed ashamed of

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the pique she had shown before her visitor. At least, those were the feelings for which Hawley gave her credit ; but, perhaps, her heart had been touched with the feeling that it was she who was responsible for the unhappiness which existed between herself and her husband.

The doctor, when he had closed the door, leaned heavily against the panelled wall of the hall ; his face was now white with disappointed rage. He was balked when he had thirsted years to say what he could have said so well then /

Her utter lack of sympathy, her insults, her selfishness, her want of respect, and indeed every harsh word she had ever spoken, all returned to his mind in that moment and stung with cruel force his aching heart. But, bitterest of all was the knowledge that her nature was not naturally thus — that beneath that cold, unfeeling exterior which she maintained toward him, there beat a heart of remarkable passion and sympathy ; also, an acute intellect, though it had never been in intercourse with his own inner thoughts. But why she should act thus toward him — whose pleasure and happiness it had been to do all in his power for her, was what he could not understand. Even considering that she did not love him, was it not her duty to respect him as her husband, showing that she had at least appreciated his love and kindness !

He had tried, many a time, to discover why she treated him thus, and finding no answer to his many reasonings, had come to the conclusion in his pain and sensitiveness, that she hated and was ashamed of him because of his affliction.

And how he had at one time loved this woman ! He moaned in anguish as he thought of the tender passion he had lavished on her and then compared it with his feelings for her now. But, alas ! sweet happy memories, they fade before the towering reality of the present !

He is again an insulted, outraged man, and it is with alow, but bitterly spoken execration that he finally moves down the hall toward his office.

Having entered the room, he threw himself into a chair and stared gloomily ahead. He was in no mood just then to receive visitors and listen to the sad tales they had to tell ; his heart was scarred too deeply for that.

How often before in this same room, he had laid bare his heart ! Its quiet seclusion had been dearer to him than the friendship of human beings. Here, for ten years had he spent the greater part of each day !

A soft, thick, and cheerful-looking carpet covered the floor ; the walls were painted a delicate pearl-gray ; the furniture of carved oak, was upholstered in dark green leather ; a few rare engravings adorned the walls, while books seemed to meet the eye everywhere ; they were strewn on the table and desk and crowded into the bookcase.

The bright fire in the old-fashioned grate too, gave the room a still more cosy and pleasant look, especially so in contrast to the wretched weather outside, where a wild wind blew the rain clamorously against the window.

But the doctor failed to appreciate the comfort of the apartment on this night, and no wonder ! for, oh ! what terrible anguish it is to feel one’s self bound by the ties of duty and honor to live out an unhappy existence. Like a caged bird he longed to flee from his fettered bonds.

Many, many times, when heartaches like the present had assailed him, he had cried in agony and bitterness : “I am accursed ! ”

Wealth to some is a blessing ; to him it had been a curse ! He knew it had brought him into the pitiable condition of being wedded to one with whom he had not the slightest affinity of thought or feeling. He, whose nature demanded love and sympathy, had only cold indifference from one who should have been, his “star of light.”

While thus dismally cogitating, he had failed to hear a light, hesitating tap at the room-door, which the pelting rain at the window had helped to drown. He looked up, however,

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with a gesture of annoyance as the door opened, and the servant entering said :

“The gentleman, sir, says you must have forgotten him as he has been waiting a very long time.”

“ Ah, yes,” said the doctor, rising, “ I will see him at once.”

Chapter II. The Doctor’s Visitor

The church-bells of Brooklyn were ringing for service as Louis Bonnard sprang from a street car into the pouring rain and moaning wind of that wild March night.

The raindrops on the windows of the lighted shops, looked like sparkling gems ; but neither their dazzling radiance, nor the reflection of the lights in the pools of water, which at other times he observed as a pretty sight, attracted his notice.

Mr. Bonnard was in a" hurry; and that meant with him keeping clear of everybody, without observing anything with interest, and walking as rapidly as possible.

He was a tall, strongly-built and attractive looking man. His olive-pale complexion and hair and eyes of jet well suited the noble type of his features. The laughing eyes seemed to tell of a happy spirit, and yet, as you observed closer you could detect a lurking bitterness in their expression. Altogether, Mr. Bonnard was an extraordinary looking man, and even the passers-by in the street seemed to think so, for many turned and looked after him.

As he hurried along, with bent head and hands deep in his coat pockets, he mused :

“I wonder if Edward Hawley has spoken to his friend, Dr. Wayne, about father. I hope so, for I don’t like the idea of seeing him without an introduction.”

Presently, as he turned into Schermerhorn Street, he drew up, and began to look about him. A row of elegant brown-stone mansions loomed up on either side of the street. He

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Walked along, slowly counting the numbers, and finally paused before one which seemed to be the handsomest of all.

He sprang up the stoop, and to assure himself that it was the house he sought, he stooped and examined the name on the door-plate. “Dr. Wayne,” stood out in bold relief against the darkness of the door.

His hand was on the bell ; but before he could pull it, there suddenly swelled out on the night air, a woman’s rich, alto voice, accompanied by the sound of a piano, in the following words :

“ If I could know that after all These heavy bonds have ceased to thrall,

We whom in life the fates divide Should sweetly slumber side by side —

That one green spray would drop its dew Softly alike above us two,

All would be well ; for I should be At last, dear loving heart, with thee ! ”

A deep spasm of pain shot through Bonnard’s heart ; he leaned over the railing of the stoop, and peered cautiously through the half-closed blinds, into the dimly lit room from whence the singing came.

He saw seated at the piano a beautifully formed woman, but he could not see her face.

It was not the sad yearning of the song that had thrilled his heart with a bitter-sweet pain ; but the voice — Merciful God ! how terribly like it was to the voice of one he had loved over ten years ago.

The voice, full of tears and sad yearning went on :

“ How sweet to know this dust of ours,

Mingling, will feed the self-same flowers —

The scent of leaves, the song-birds tone,

At once across our rest be blown.

One breadth of sun, one sheet of rain Make green the earth above us twain !

Ah ! sweet and strange, for I should be,

At last, dear tender heart, with thee !

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“ But half the earth may intervene Thy place of rest and mine between —

And leagues of land and wastes of waves May stretch and toss between our graves.

Thy bed with Summer light be warm,

While snowdrifts heap, in wind and storm,

My pillow, whose one thorn will be,

Beloved, that I am not with thee ! ”

With a wail of utter heart break she ceased singing ; her head sank forward upon the keys of the piano ; her form was convulsed with sobs.

For some minutes she remained thus, then suddenly threw up her head, dashed the tears from her eyes, uttered a wild, mocking laugh, and left the room.

Bonnard drew back from the window with a heavy sigh ; he felt as though he had awakened from a dream.

“ That was Mrs. Wayne,” he concluded as he rang the bell.

Five minutes passed yet no one had answered his ring. He touched the bell again, impatiently ; this time after what appeared to be another five minutes the door was opened by a servant.

“ Is the doctor within ? ” inquired Bonnard.

“Yes, sir.”

“ Can I see him? ”

The girl replied in the affirmative. She led him along the hall ; and as he passed one door he heard voices raised in scornful discussion. The servant finally threw open the door of a room to his left, and requested him to wait there while she apprised the doctor.

The first and most natural thing, Mr. Bonnard did after he had taken a seat, was to look about him. But after awhile as the doctor failed to summon him to the office and the objects of the room began to lose their interest, his thoughts drifted to other things.

That voice ! How strangely familiar it was, and what thoughts it conjured up !

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Back through the vista of ten long years his memory passed.

He sees himself again as a young fellow of three- and-twenty, and remembers with a keen pang of bitterness one certain evening of those former times.

It was the last day in August. The sun, from where he watched it as he stood in the shaded path, with the woman he loved beside him, looked like an immense golden ball as it began to sink behind the distant mountains and bathe the sky in a tranquil, yellowish light. The sound of the cow bells came faintly from the' meadows. Even the little sparrow flying from branch to branch in the tree above them, and the cooling breeze that fanned their faces, was remembered ; so vividly was every occurrence of this night impressed upon his mind.

And the woman beside him ! He saw her again now, as she appeared then ; her tall, graceful form looking taller and more graceful still in its simple, white muslin gown, with the pale pink rosebuds twined in her luxuriant, nut-brown hair, and nestling on her breast. The lovely face was blushing, and the eyes gleamed with a half sad, half tender light.

He remembered, too, the wild thrill of pain that shot through his heart, as he thought that on the morrow he must leave this pleasant country place, where he had spent so many happy weeks with her.

He had moved a step nearer to her at this point, had taken her hand, and his voice was soft and low as he uttered her name: “ Harriet.’ ’

Her blushing face grew a deeper crimson, her eyelids drooped, and her voice faltered as she answered him.

“ I leave here to-morrow,” he said, watching the effect of his words.

“So soon ! ” she exclaimed, her lips quivering.

“I have delayed my going already longer than 1 should have done. Will you think sometimes of the hours we have spent together when I am gone? ”

“ Yes, I shall think of them, Mr. Bonnard.”

“ And of me ? ”

“ I could not possibly think of them unless I thought of you, too,” she returned, and her eyes met his in a glance that made his heart beat rapidly.

“ Harriet, are you sorry I must go away ? ” he asked clasping her hands and gazing searchingly into her downcast face.

She shrank from him, and covered her eyes with her hands.

He drew nearer, his face flushing with hope ; he stole his arm with gentle force about her waist and drew her close to him.

“ You love me, Harriet,” he boldly asserted.

She only moaned in answer.

“ My darling, won’t you answer me? ” continued Bonnard, passionately. “ Won’t you tell me that you love me, and that at some future day you will make me happy by becoming my wife?”

She was a long time in answering, but at length faltered :

“ I love you ! ”

“ You are sure of it, dearest? You see,” he added with a bright smile, “ this is an important matter, and I must be exacting.”

“ Ah, you need not doubt me; I love you only too well.”

Her reply evidently pleased him, for he said nothing further on the subject ; nevertheless it was not the binding vow he had sought. But he had gone away confident that she would some day become his wife.

A year later when he returned to claim her, she was gone — married to a man of wealth.

At the time he never thought of asking his rival’s name, nor had he ever learned it since. Indeed, he had no desire to know it, for he never wanted to see again the woman who had so shamefully deceived him.

“ She was unworthy of my love ! ” he had cried in his anguish. “ I shall learn to forget her ! ”

But he was not a man to easily forget anything. His love for her now, ten years later, was as intense as it ever had been.

Suddenly, Mr. Bonnard’s thoughts were brought back to the present, by the opening of the room-door. The servant ushered in an elderly lady ; and at the same time, Mr. Bonnard became aware that he had been waiting over half an hour to interview the doctor, and his patience was getting exhausted.

He asked the girl to see him and state that he feared he had been forgotten as he had been waiting a long time.

A few minutes later, Bonnard stood in the presence of the doctor, but neither of them even dreamed of how strangely interwoven their lives were to become.

“ Dr. Wayne ? ” questioned Mr. Bonnard, as he closed the office door.

The doctor bowed.

“I have called,” his visitor continued, producing his card, “ in regard to my father.”

“Mr. Louis Bonnard ”

The doctor read the name on the card slowly and aloud ; then hastily pushing forward a chair, he kindly said :

“Pray, be seated, Mr. Bonnard. Our mutual friend, Mr. Hawley, has explained your father’s case to me. From what he has told me, I fear it is very bad ; but, of course, I cannot say so positively until I have seen my patient. You understand that this is merely conjecture as yet,” Wayne gently added.

The young man raised his eyes and looked into the doctor’s face ; the sympathy he read there touched him profoundly. Some moments passed in silence, then he falteringly said :

“Doctor, I deeply appreciate your sympathy, but lam aware it is all true. It is hard though to know that I must lose one for whom I have so tender a love. You will, however, come and see my poor father to-morrow, and do what you can to relieve his sufferings ? ”

“Very well, Mr. Bonnard; I will call in the morning.”

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Then Wayne added somewhat impulsively: “ Your friend, Mr. Hawley, is in the house; if you desire to see him, I should be delighted to have you remain? ”

“ No, no, thank you,” said Bonnard, and hastily picking up his hat, he arose to leave.

The doctor walked with him to the hall door, and for a few moments stood in the doorway looking after him ; then, as he was about to shut the door, a voice from the pavement hailed him.

“ Hold on a moment, doctor, don’t close the door,” and a moment later, a flashily-dressed, bold looking man, sprang up the stoop.

Dr. Wayne detested familiarity, more especially in those whom he disliked, and this one happened to be classed in that category.

“ Good evening, Mr. Moore,” he coldly replied, without accepting the other’s proffered hand.

A baleful light flashed into Moore’s eyes,. but was instantly suppressed, and he laughingly said :

“Well, I don’t know about its being a ‘ good evening,’ doctor ; I am rather inclined to think it a bad one — and a very bad one at that. Ht is so long since I paid my respects to Mrs. Wayne,” pursued Moore, “ that I thought I would do so this evening.”

“You will find her here, I believe,” said Wayne, throwing open the door of the room, where he had left his wife and Hawley together.

“Are you not going to join us?” Moore asked, as the doctor retreated toward his office.

“This is one of my business hours,” Wayne coldly answered and walked on ; he had gone only a few steps, however, when he heard his wife greeting the newcomer in a tone of evident pleasure.

The doctor ground his teeth savagely, and his hands

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clenched with the fierce passion that for a moment mastered him.

Meantime, Mrs. Wayne, Hawley, and Moore were holding an animated conversation. Mr. Moore was relating how he had secured a good position in an excellent dramatic company, which would take him from Brooklyn for a few months.

11 It will be my first experience as a professional,” he concluded, “but I don’t in the least doubt but what I shall get along all right.”

Conrad Moore was a young man of good social standing, but poor. Therefore, believing the dramatic profession to be the easiest and withal the most profitable way to make his living, he had resolved to become an actor. Hawley already had a reputation in the same profession.

“Iam sure I hope you will succeed, but how lonely it will be when you have both gone : for Mr. Hawley intends going away too.” And Mrs. Wayne sighed, and looked languidly at the young men.

“Ah, madam, you make us think our society a great blessing. What happiness to be always near you,” flatteringly said Moore, gazing at her with an expression of admiration.

Her face beamed with pleasure as she turned to him, but she became somewhat embarrassed when she noticed the surprised and grieved expression of Hawley’s face. She knew in an instant that he did not think as highly of her as he had done.

Why is it that a mere expression or a few words will sometimes change our opinion of others. The face retains its expression, the voice remains the same, but somehow, the charm we once found in them has gone — simply because we have caught a glimpse of the inner individualty we dislike. It is almost unjust to become prejudiced against anyone for so small a cause — still, the impression remains. It was thus with Hawley’s opinion of Mrs. Wayne. All in a moment, blind as he had been to the fact before, he saw and understood the cause of Dr. Wayne’s unhappiness.

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Hitherto he had greatly admired her, had even thought that the doctor was unnecessarily cold to her at times, but he now began to realize that the heart of this woman, who dazzled everyone with her beauty and charming manner, craved the admiration of a multitude and cared less for her husband’s opinion than she did that of a stranger.