Activate Javascript or update your browser for the full Digital Library experience.
Previous Page
–
Next Page
OCR
‘10
LEONIE, THE-TYPEWRITER. «©
an impulsive man, but it was the only way.
ing at it intently, then’ he ‘turned -suddenly;,
His humor, therefore, was not of the pleas-}witha short, mirthless laugh...
antest when he entered the office to which he
had been so imperatively summoned.
**Good-morning, Mr. Chandler!” he ex-
claimed rather somberly, shaking hands, ‘1
am sorry that you were forced to wait for
me, but——”
** Never mind that, sir,” interrupted Chand-
ler, not even the shadow of a smile lighting
the anger in hiseyes. ‘‘I want an explana-
tion from you, sir, I understand that you
. furnished the bail under which that_ girl,
Leonie Cuyler, was released from jail. Is
that true, sir?”
“Tt is perfectly true!”
** And you did that, knowing that I wished
her to remain there until she had sense
enough not to decline to reveal the name of a
thief?” :
“‘Pardon me, Mr, Chandler. Iam afraid T
did not think of your wishes upon the subject
atall, Miss Cuyler’s grandfather, her only
living relative, died this morning. She was
as devoted to him as any own child could be,
and in common humanity, if there had been
no other reason, I could not have allowed her
to remain there.” —
**What do you suppose I cared for her
grandfather? That girl shall tell who the
thief wwho robbed my house was, orI will
prosecute her to the day of my death. I will
spend every cent of money that I possess, but
what I will find out the truth of this affair.
Do you understand that, Mr. Pyne? Nothing
in the shape of sentimentality shall deter me,
That girl went there for the purpose of con-
victing the thief, and she shall do it.”
The words were spoken slowly, and with
an emphasis upon each that showed Lynde
Pyne very clearly that his guest meant every
word he uttered, and more. . .
Pyne raised his foot, placed it upon a chair,
and leaned his arm upon his knee with great-
est nonchalance,
His eyes were fixed upon Chandler’s calm-
ly, almost coldly.
‘“‘Mr. “Chandler,” he said, impressively,
** for several years I have been your attorney.
You have always followed my advice im-
plicitly in every instance, and there. has never
been a time when it has been incorrect! Am
Tright?”
“cs Yes.”
“‘Then there is reason why you should Ist-
en to me in this, Do not press this case
against Miss Cuyler. If you do you may re-
gret it to the last day of your life. With-
draw the charges you have made against
her.”
“ But I will not, Do you suppose that I
will let a matter like that rest? Never,I tell
you, Leonie Cuylershall speak, or the whole
weight of my fortune shall be turned against
her. I direct you now to press this thing to
the last extremity. t no stone fo un-
turned. Move heaven and earth to—~—”
**Pardon me, Mr. Chandler. It is useless
for me to allow you to go further. If you
persist in this heartless scheme I must resign
from the case. I cannot act where my client
refuses to follow my directions.”
Chandler lifted his eyes agha3t. .
** What!” he gasped. ‘‘ You throw up all
the business that I have put into your hands
because of that girl? You must be mad!
Why, man, I will ruin you!” ~
“If you think you can you are perfectly
welcome to try, but I tell you frankly that
you have not enough money in your posses-
sion to tempt me to lift a finger against
Leonie Cuyler.” .
“* And you dare to tell me this? You, the
betrothed husband of my daughter!”
“T dare, do anything that my conscience
and my duty may dictate, Mr. Chandler, re-
gardless of other considerations.”
“‘Then I tell you, sir, that you shall never
enter my doors again! Remember that. If
you presume to call, the servants will have
instructions to throw you out, Andas for
that Cuyler girl, Iam all the more deter-
mined that she shall be forced to tell all
she knows, if my entire fortune must be
spent upon it. Good-morning, Mr. Payne. I
am afraid that you will discover before Fou
are through with it that this morning’s work
is liable to cost you dear!” | .
He banged the door behind him, and for
many minutes Lynde Pyne stood there look-
¢
“Tam afraid I have played the dickens!”
he muttered. ‘ But there seemed to be noth-
ing else for-it. He will leave no stone un-
turned to force this story from Leonie; she
will emphatically refuse to answer, and then
—well, God knows what will come after the
‘and then! There is nothing to think of now
but burying that man, and getting at the bot-
tom of these facts that threaten such danger
to Leonie.”
‘*Mr. Davidge is here to see you, sir!”
said the office-boy, at his elbow:
- “Tell himthat lamout! ThatI have gone
over to the courtroom about a case that I
have on. Tell him anything that comes into
your head, but don’t let me be interrupted
again to-day. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy had scarcely closed the door behind
him than Pyne leaped to his feet.
**T must go and see about that funeral!” he
exclaimed to himself, ‘‘ That poor child is
there all alone, except for that ignorant mob,
What a relief it is to think that old Chandler
broke that engage—— Bah! that savored
very strongly of cowardice and almost dis-
honor; but somehow I can’t help feeling that
Iam ten years younger.”
CHAPTER XI.
THE golden hue of a dying sun lit up the
West, and shone with radiant glory into the
bare chamber where Leonie Cuyler sat, her
head bowed upon the arm of the chair in
which her grandfather had died.
She did not hear the knock that sounded
upon.the door, nor did she hear it open, nor
see the man who entered.
He looked at her for a moment in silence,
noting her extreme gracefulness even in a
osition like that; he saw where the sun
<issed the bowed head as if in benediction;
he understood the terrible grief that hovered
over her, and something like tears gleamed
in his eyes as he went forward and drew a
chair close to her.
‘* Leonie,” he said, taking her hand gently,
“arouse yourself, dear. Do you think you
are doing right to give way to your grief in
this manner? I know that it is hard to bear;
but it must come to us all sooner or later, and
he is atrest! Does that thought bring you no
consolation ?” :
She lifted her head, a terrible shiver shak-
ing her. .
“It is the only consolation that I have!”
she answered drearily, ‘‘ When I remember
how full his life was of sorrow that no time
could ever have lightened, Iam glad that he
is at peace with God. But the burden is hard
to bear, when I am so bitterly alone, oh, God!
so horribly alone!” .
- *Do I count for nothing, then?”
“You.are good to me, Mr. Pyne, so good
that you are breaking my heart afresh every
hour; but in justice to you I cannot accept
the friendship that is so sweet to me. In
mercy to myseif I must refuse it! I have
been in the world so long that -it is no secret
to me what construction is put upon the
friendship of a man like you for a creature in
my sphere and ” :
‘Leonie, I forbid you to speak like that.
You know no more of what you are saying
than a three-months-old child. There is no
man that will have a right:to question my
motives when I say that I have asked you
to become my wife. I did not come here to-
night to speak to you upon this subject, nor
shall I, You must listen to me~you must see
the truth of what I say, for there is no time
to be lost. Have you forgotten that to-mor-
row is the day set down for the hearing of your
case ?”
Her hand closed over the arm of the chair,
her teeth were set firmly, her face became a
shade more ghastly, but her voice was quiet
as she answered:
**¥ had forgotten!"
“Then it is quite time that you remember,
Leonie, I have, without your request, or even
consent, constituted myself your attorney,
and it is to talk with you upon this subject
alone that J havecome here to-night. TI want
you to feel the strength of my love sufficient-
ly } to know that you may trust me in all
that?” :
“Tknow thatIcantrust youl” =.
“‘Then tell me who committed that rob- ’
bery!” i
“IT cannot!” on °
‘“‘T expected that answer, and ‘yet .yiou ssid
that you could trust me. ‘ .
“ Leonie, I entreat you, for your-‘own sake,
to tell me the truth about this. If there is
anything that ought to be concealed, I will
help you to the last day of my life to coneral
it; but, for the love of Heaven, don’t place
yourself in this hideous position without ad-
vice from some one. Let me be the judge.
Tell me the truth, and I swear to you upon
my honor that, if there is reason for the con-
cealment I will help you to it!” .
He paused for a moment, wiping away tho’
moisture from his brow that earnestness his! ;
brought there. - ‘
Leonie straightened herself, and feanizsy -.
forward, laid her hand upon his. { oo
“TY know that what you are saying to me 15
intended for my good alone,” she cried, in 4
choked voice, ‘‘and from the bottom, of my
heart I thank you, but—I do not seem ¢2pabiv
of thought to-night. I do not seem ta unier-
stand. You are so good to me that I fect that
Ican ask anything of you, and therefor 1
beg that you will come to-morrow, | Leave
me this night, my first without—dad—to my-
self, and to-morrow. aid |
She could not complete the sentence, bi!
turned away, hiding her quivering face upon
her arm.
Pyne stood beside ‘her, placing His wish
about her, |
“T have been cruel, but it was the only
way to save you,” he whispered. ‘Tell tie
that you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she answer-
ed, lifting her dull eyes piteously. ‘If there
should ever come a time when you: fe+! thi:
you have something to forgive me fcr, re
member that what Ishall do. will always he
for your good, will younot? Rememter that
however unworthy I may be, that Iloy«d you
with all my heart, and—— Oh, go! I beseech
you, go! Lam not myself! To-morrow—~"
She did not finish the sentence, but raised
herself to her full height, looked him in the
face with a long, searching, hungry passion,
lifted his hand to her hot, dry lips, and pre=3-
ing a burning kiss upon it, passed hurriedly
from the room, —
He looked after her for a moment irres«-
lutely, half tempted to follow. .
‘What does it mean?” he asked of himself.
“Hor manner was mostsingular. Poor little
girl, She is almost mad from this grief and
harassing. Iwish I could have comforted
her instead of adding to it. Well, I will see
her to-morrow, and I will save herin ¢pite of
herself.” : .
e glanced longingly at the door through
which she had vanished. °
Then restraining his inclination, he picked
up his hat and left the room. jo:
Leonie heard the closing of the door, and
entered immediately. :
How dreary and desolate it seemed!
Deliberately she had cut herself froin him,
leaving herself absolutely alone, with jiot one
human being that she could call her frend.
A great pity for herself surged into her
heart, pity for the loneliness of her situntion,
for the isolation that had been thrus: upon
her through no fault of her own,
She sat down fora moment, buryi7z her
face in her hands; then she lifted it, fhastly
with fierce determination. } .
‘* This is no time for inactivity or irresolu-
tion!” she cried passionately. “IT must fol-
low the life that Heaven has seen fit to fasten _
upon me without consent of, mine. JT am a
nameless creature, but I can still have the
courage to save my sister. Lynde Pyno has
ledged himself to pay tifteen hundry:t. gol.
ars to the court to-morrow in default, ©
resence. Virtually I am simply fot
oan upon him, for it shall be repaid
last farthing. My weakness haS faller: «
me like a mantle, When that is at :
can allow my grief indulgence, DU! |
then——-~” . her. ane
She drew pen, ink and. paper an bo
began hastily to write: the to caltateet Lae
“My peak Mr. Pyne,—Reau2its oy
truth of what you said to me last at,
Mhingss <cDo- you think’ that ‘you can-do aoe