CHAPTER XXII.
THEIR PLIGHTED VOWS.
It was enough to blow out the faint spark of Berry’s life, the sudden shock of seeing her lover, and hearing those startling words from his lips, but, happily, “joy never kills.”
Now at the sight of his handsome face that she had never expected to see again in life, above all at the sound of his musical voice, uttering words she had not dared to fancy on his lips, such a wave of rapturous emotion thrilled Berry from head to foot, that she could not utter a sound. Her only response to her lover’s ardent words was a sudden rain of blissful tears that relieved the tension of her surcharged heart.
With his own soft handkerchief Charley Bonair wiped away those shining drops, murmuring fond words, quite heedless of the gaping Mrs. Cline, who looked and listened, thinking to herself:
“Well, I never! Has the man gone clean daft, promising to marry this poor little actress, when the folks up at the mansion say that he’s engaged to that grand, rich New York heiress, Miss Montague!”
As she had known him from his boyhood, and did not stand at all in awe of him, she cried, in righteous indignation:
“For shame, Mr. Charley, trying to flirt with that poor little sick girl, that don’t know you as well as I do, or she would not listen to your foolishness! Get out of here, now, do, before you scare my patient into fits!”
At this the happy young fellow, remembering her presence for the first time, got up deliberately from his knees, where he was kneeling by Berry, and marching to Mrs. Cline, took her, playfully, by the shoulders, and put her outside the door, saying gayly:
“You don’t understand a word of this, of course, but I will explain it all to your satisfaction if you will stay out here till I get an answer to my proposal, will you?” pleadingly.
“I—I—yes, I suppose I must, if you order me to, Mr. Charley, but I don’t know what the doctor, and the nurse, and Miss Montague, too, will say to all this goings on, sir, especially if the poor young girl gets a relapse from excitement,” she complained.
“She will not get a relapse. Happiness never killed anybody!” cried the young man, beaming happily upon her, as he shut her outside, and went back to the blushing, trembling little girl.
“My darling, please forgive me for taking you by storm this way, but I never had any patience in my life, and how could I have now, when I have the sweetest story in the world to tell you? Listen, Berry, my dearest: I have loved you and you alone, since the first moment I saw your lovely face shining down on me from the cottage window framed in morning-glory vines. From that moment your face has been the star of my life’s horizon, and your sweet love song has haunted many a dream. But I was betrothed to another, a proud, rich girl, my equal in birth and position, so at first I did not think of breaking my vow. Then you faded from my life, and I feared you were dead until I saw you on the boards of the theater that night, in my own home, a very queen of love and beauty. I knew you again in a moment. My little Berry could not hide from me under the pseudonym of Vera Vane.”
Berry’s soft cheeks dimpled into a smile at that, and taking her small hand, he held it tightly clasped in a warm, sweet pressure, while he continued:
“That very night I had come home from a long yachting trip, trying to forget you, and had made up my mind to settle down and make everybody but myself happy by marrying Rosalind. But my presence was as yet unknown to my people, and when I saw you again, Berry, and knew that you lived, more sweet and lovely than ever, I could not bear the thought of my betrothed. I stole away when the play was over and went out into the grounds to brood over my trouble. While I smoked a cigar, hidden on a seat in some shrubberies, you came by and stopped and talked to yourself until the old fortune teller came to upbraid you for not keeping your engagement promptly. Do you remember it, Berry?”
“Ah, yes, yes—and you were there close by?” she breathed, in wonder.
“Yes, almost close enough to touch you: I was tempted, indeed, to rush to you and clasp you to my heart, but I had not forgotten the night I kissed you when you flung my roses in my face and scratched me with the sharp thorns; I did not care to risk such vixenish resentment again, although that kiss, believe me, was worth all I suffered for it.”
She listened, eagerly, to every word, flushing and paling, delicately as a rose, her large, dilated brown eyes drinking in every tender word. Charley Bonair thought, in spite of her thinness, that she was as lovely as a dream. Suffering had only refined her beauty.
She had scarcely a word to say; she only listened, drinking in his voice like heavenly music, and he, gazing at her and stroking her little hand, went on with his explanations, saying:
“I heard all you and the old woman were saying, and was vastly amazed at your credulity in believing her silly yarns. Well, soon after you left, I started down to see Zilla, and heard your cries of terror, so by hurrying my pace I was able to get there in time to save you from being quite killed by the angry brute. I suppose Mrs. Cline has told you everything that happened afterward, as far as she knew.”
She murmured yes, and he added joyously:
“What she did not know, was that as soon as I found out you would live, I resolved to break my engagement with Rosalind, if you would forgive the past and have me. I have carried out my intentions, and am free to offer you my heart and my name. Can you love me, little girl, in spite of my glaring faults, and take me in hand to reform me?”
His tender eyes shone love into hers, and he looked as though he meditated kissing her at any moment. Berry felt dizzy all at once, with a strange feeling, as if she were floating in air on rosy clouds of bliss.
“Oh, Berry, why don’t you speak? Are you angry with me still? Will you not forgive and love me?” cried her ardent lover, with dawning anxiety, for he felt her little hand growing chill and fluttering like a bird in his clasp.
She half sobbed:
“Oh, oh, I am almost afraid!”
“Afraid, my darling—of what, pray?”
“To—marry—you, Mr. Bonair! Because you are all so rich and grand—your people, you know, and they might not care for you to marry simple little me, instead of the proud heiress, Rosalind!” she panted questioningly, while blushes came and went deliciously on her thin cheeks.
Charley Bonair looked sober for a moment, then laughed again.
“Ah! now I am up against the real thing!” he exclaimed. “It is quite true, Berry, darling, that they may object a little at first, but when they see how sweet and charming you are, dad and my pretty sisters will surely come around and love you almost as well as I do. Of course they would make no end of a bother if I asked their leave first, but I don’t mean to do it, you see! We’ll get married first, my angel, and announce it afterward. I can take the Clines into the secret, and we could be married here to-morrow, in this room, if you will consent, Berry.”
“Oh, I am afraid, afraid!” she moaned nervously.
“Listen to me, Berry. Are you afraid that dad will cut us off with a shilling if I marry you? Do you object to being a poor man’s bride?” her lover demanded, rather sternly, in his impatience.
“Oh, no, no! Mr. Bonair—I——”
“Call me, Charley,” he interrupted imploringly.
“Charley, then! I’ve always been poor, you know, and I shouldn’t mind it all with you, dear, if—if—you are sure you will never repent and be sorry I married you.”
“You will marry me, then, darling?” He bent and took the kiss he was longing for. “Bless you, dear, your Charley will never repent he won such a prize! It may be you that will be sorry, for I have got a hard name, you know, and need reforming,” he said truthfully.
“I will love you so, my Charley, it will make a better man of you!” she cried tenderly, giving way to the rapture of her happy love at last. Then, as a light tap sounded on the door: “Oh, dear, we were quite forgetting poor Mrs. Cline, dearest. Do let her in, and explain everything, or she will think this interview very improper.”