Chapter 15

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_ CHAPTER XV "What a pity!" sighed Iris, and her hand crept sympathizingly into his. The gloomy look deepened on his face. "Do you believe that there is a true mate for each heart, Iris?" he asked, suddenly. "I might better ask you that question," she answered, evasively. "You are engaged--you seem to have found a heart that is the mate for your own." "Do you think there is such a thing as making a mistake, even in so grave a matter?" he asked, huskily, "and that those who discover their error should keep on straying further and further in the wrong path? Do you not believe that there should be the most ardent love between those who wed--and that where there is a lack of it the two should separate, and each go his or her own way?" Iris drooped her head; but ere she could reply--utter the words that sprang to her lips--an exclamation of the deepest annoyance, mingled with a fierce imprecation, was ground out from between Kendal's teeth. There, directly in the path before them, stood Alice Lee. Had she been standing there long? If so, she must have heard every word that had been uttered. Alice Lee had heard, and every word had cut to her heart like the sharp point of a sword. She had feared this, but had tried to reason the matter out in her own mind; but although circumstances did look tellingly against the beauty who had come to Gray Gables to be Dorothy Glenn's companion, yet she had tried to make herself believe that her suspicions were groundless. "Have you been eavesdropping?" cried Iris, springing to her feet, her black eyes flashing luridly. A thousand thoughts flashed through Alice Lee's mind in an instant. No; she was too proud to let them realize that she had overheard the perfidy of Dorothy's treacherous lover. No; better plead ignorance, until she had time to think over the matter, for Dorothy's sake, if not for her own. "I have but just turned the bend in the road," she replied, with sweet girlish dignity. "Your question, Miss Vincent, surprises me," she said. "I have no need to answer it, I think." "But you always do happen around just when people least expect you, Alice Lee." "I hope my old friends will always find my presence welcome," returned Alice, quietly. "To be sure, you are welcome," interposed Kendal. "Miss Vincent and I were only conversing upon the salient points of a new novel we finished reading yesterday. If you would care to hear it, I shall be pleased to go over the plot with you, and hear your opinion regarding it." "I fear it would not benefit you, for I am not much of a novel reader, and understand very little of plots and plotting." Was this a quiet drive at them? both thought as they looked up instantly. But the soft, gray eyes of Alice Lee looked innocently enough from one to the other. She seemed in no hurry to pass on, and Iris felt that for the second time that afternoon her téte-à-téte with handsome Harry Kendal was to be broken up, and from this moment henceforth she owed Alice Lee more of a grudge than ever, and she felt sure that the girl knew it. Upon one point Alice was determined--that no matter how coldly Iris Vincent might treat her, she should not leave Dorothy's lover alone with her and in her power--she would stand by her poor little blind friend, who needed her aid in this terrible hour more than she would ever know, God help her! Although long silences fell between the trio, still Alice lingered, chatting so innocently that they could not find it in their hearts to be very angry with her; and they could not bring themselves to believe that she had a purpose in her guileless actions. There was no alternative but to walk homeward with her; but they did not ask her in when they reached the gates of Gray Gables, and so Alice had no excuse to enter to see Dorothy and warn her, but was obliged to pass on. Mrs. Kemp and two or three of the servants were on the porch, so that there was no opportunity to exchange but a few whispered words. They were just about to part when Iris happened to think that Kendal had not told her what was said of those who gather and weave autumn leaves together, as he had promised. She paused suddenly and looked up archly into his face. "What about the autumn-leaf mystery?" she exclaimed. "You know you were to tell me all about it?" "Do you promise not to be angry with me, Iris?" he answered, in his deep, musical voice. "You know I can not help old adages--I do not make them." "Why should I be angry?" she exclaimed, having a rather faint idea of what was coming. "Well, then," said Kendal, fixing his dark eyes full upon her, "it is said that the youth and maiden who twine the ruby and golden leaves together are intended for each other. There, are you so very angry?" Iris dropped his arm with a little cry, and fled precipitately into the house. He walked on slowly through the great hall and into the library. He knew Dorothy would be waiting for him, and he did not feel equal to the ordeal of meeting her just then. He wanted a moment to think. He felt that he was standing on the brink of a fearful abyss, and that one more step must prove fatal to him. Which way should he turn? He was standing face to face with the terrible truth now, that he loved Iris Vincent madly--loved her better than his own life--he, the betrothed of another. But with that knowledge came another. Iris could be nothing to him, for they were both poor. He was sensible enough to sit down and look the future in the face. He realized that if he should marry Iris on the spur of the moment, that would be only the beginning of the end. It would be all gay and bright with them for a few brief weeks, or perhaps for a few months; then their sky would change, for Iris was not a girl to endure poverty for love's sake. She wanted the luxuries of life--these he could not give her; and there would be reproaches from the lips that now had only smiles for him. She would want diamonds and silks, and all the other feminine extravagances so dear to the hearts of other women, and he was only a struggling doctor, who would have to fight a hand-to-hand battle with grim poverty. And sitting there in the arm-chair, before the glowing grate, where he had flung himself, he pictured a life of poverty that would spread out before him if he defied the world for love's sake. A dingy office; a worn coat, and trousers shiny at the knees; a necktie with a ragged edge; an unkempt beard, a last season's hat, and hunger gnawing at his vitals. The picture filled him with the most abject horror. He was stylish and fastidious to a fault. He loved Iris; but did he not equally love his own ease? He could barely tolerate Dorothy, the poor, tender, plain little creature who lavished a world of love upon him; but he swallowed the bitter draught of having to endure her by always remembering that she was heiress, in all probability, to a cool million of money, and money had been his idol all his life long. He could not exist without it. He was not one of the kind who could face the world manfully and snatch from it its treasures by the sweat of his brow. No, he could not give up this dream of wealth that was almost as much as life to him. In the very midst of his reverie a light step crossed the library, but he did not hear it. It was Dorothy. She stole up quietly and knelt on the hassock beside his chair. "What were you thinking of, Harry?" she said. He was equal to the occasion. "Of what or whom should I be thinking but yourself, Dorothy?" he replied. "It could not have been a very pleasant thought, I fear, for you sighed deeply," she murmured. "That is all your fancy, Dorothy," he declared--"that my thoughts were not pleasant. True, I may have sighed, but did you never hear of such a thing as a sigh of contentment?" She laughed merrily. "I have heard of it, but thought the words rather misplaced." "I assure you they are quite true and practicable." "Where is Iris?" she asked, suddenly. "I am sure I do not know," he answered, trying to speak carelessly. "I want to have a real long talk with you, Harry," she said. "I have heard that there should be nothing but the utmost confidence between engaged lovers. Shall it not be so with us?" "Of course," he answered, starting rather guiltily, for he had a faint intuition of what was coming. "Harry," she whispered, "I want you to tell me--is it true--what they are all saying--that you have ceased to love me?" "All saying!" he echoed. "Who is saying it? What old busybodies are sticking their noses in my affairs now?" he cried, with something on his lips that sounded very like an imprecation. "But it isn't true, is it, Harry?" she breathed. "I should want to die if I thought it was." "Look here, Dorothy," he cried, "if you want to believe all these mischief-makers tell you, you will have enough to do all through your life. You will have to either believe me or believe them. Now, which shall it be?" "But answer my question, 'Yes' or 'No?'" pleaded Dorothy. "I--I am waiting for your answer, Harry." There was a slight rustle in the doorway, and glancing up with a start, Kendal saw Iris Vincent standing there, looking on the tender scene with a scornful smile, and the words he would have answered died away unsaid on his lips. _

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