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Page 36
There was a nine days' wonder over Miss Harrison's sudden exodus. But her
aunt was a discreet woman, and it was generally understood that Margie
had taken advantage of the pause in the fashionable season to visit some
distant relatives, and if ever any one coupled her flight and the
departure of Castrani together, it was not made the subject of remark.
Alexandrine kept what she knew to herself, and of course Archer Trevlyn
did not proclaim his own desertion.
For a week, nearly, he managed to keep about, and at the end of that time
he called at Mrs. Lee's. He wanted to question Alexandrine a little
further. The idea possessed him that in some way she might be cognizant
of Margie's destination. And though he had given the girl up, he longed
desperately to know if she were happy. He had felt strangely giddy all
day, and the heat of Mrs. Lee's parlors operated unfavorably upon him. He
was sitting on a sofa conversing with that lady and her daughter, when
suddenly he put his hand to his forehead, and sank back, pale and
speechless.
In the wildest alarm, they called a physician, who put him to bed, and
enjoined the severest quiet. Mr. Trevlyn, he said, had received a severe
shock to his nervous system, and there was imminent danger of congestive
fever of the brain.
His fears were verified. Archer did not rally, and on the second day he
was delirious. Then the womanly nature of Alexandrine Lee came out and
asserted itself. She banished all attendants from the sick room, and took
sole charge herself of the sufferer. Not even her mother would she allow
to take her place. When tempted by intense weariness to resign her post,
she would take _that stained glove_ from her bosom, and the sight of it
would banish all thought of admitting a stranger.
"No," she said to herself, "people in delirium speak of their most
cherished secrets and he shall not criminate himself. It he did that
terrible deed, only I of all the world can bring a shadow of suspicion
against him, and the secret shall never be revealed to any other."
So she sat the long days and longer nights away, by the side of this man
she loved so hopelessly, bathing his fevered brow, holding his parched
hand, and lingering fondly over the flushed, unconscious face.
He sank lower and lower day by day--so very low that the physician said
he could do no more. He must leave the case. There was nothing for it but
to wait with patience the workings of nature.
At last, the day came when the ravings of delirium subsided and a deadly
stupor intervened. It was the crisis of the disease. The sundown would
decide, Dr. Grayson said; he would be better, or death would ensue.
Alexandrine heard his opinion in stony silence. She sat by the bed's-head
now, calm and silent; her powers of self-control were infinite. Her
mother came in to watch for the change, as did several of Archer's
friends, heretofore excluded. She was not afraid for them to come;
there was no danger of Mr. Trevlyn criminating himself now. He had not
spoken or moved for twelve hours.
The time passed slowly. The sun crept down the west. The ticking of the
watch on the stand was all that broke the silence of the room. The last
sun ray departed--the west flamed with gold and crimson, and the amber
light flushed with the hue of health the white face on the pillow.
Alexandrine thought she saw a change other than that the sunset light
brought, and bent over him.
His eyes unclosed--he looked away from her to the vase of early spring
flowers on the centre-table. His lips moved--she caught the whispered
word with a fierce pang at the heart:
"Margie!"
The physician stepped forward, and sought the fluttering pulse. His face
told his decision before his lips did.
"The crisis is passed. He will live."
Yes, he would live. The suspense was over. Alexandrine's labors were
shared now, and Archer did not know how devotedly he had been tended--how
he owed his very existence to her.
He mended slowly, but by the middle of May he was able to go out. Of
course he was very grateful to the Lees, and their house was almost the
only one he visited. Alexandrine was fitful and moody. Sometimes she
received him with the greatest warmth, and then she would be cold and
distant. She puzzled Archer strangely. He wanted to be friends with her.
He felt that he owed her an immense debt of gratitude, and he desired to
treat her as he would a dear sister.
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