Infelice | Page 4

must be trampled out, and the new Mrs. Cuthbert Laurance dashes in her splendid equipage through the Bois de Bologne. Sir, give me my license!"
Mr. Hargrove opened a secret drawer in the tall writing-desk that stood in one corner of the room, and, unlocking a square tin box, took from it a folded slip of paper. After some deliberation he seated himself, and began to write.
Impatiently his visitor paced the floor, followed by Bi?rn, who now and then growled suspiciously.
At length, when the pastor laid down his pen, his guest came to his side, and held out her hand.
"Madam, the statements you have made are so extraordinary, that you must pardon me if I am unusually cautious in my course. While I have no right to doubt your assertions, they seem almost incredible, and the use you might make of the license----"
"What! you find it so difficult to credit the villainy of a man--and yet so easy to suspect, to believe all possible deceit and wickedness in a poor helpless woman? Oh, man of God! is your mantle of charity cut to cover only your own sex? Can the wail of down-trodden orphanage wake no pity in your heart,--or is it locked against me by the cowardly dread of incurring the hate of the house of Laurance?"
For an instant a dark flush bathed the tranquil brow of the minister, but his kind tone was unchanged when he answered slowly:
"Four years ago I was in doubt concerning my duty, but just now there is clearly but one course for me to pursue. Unless you wish to make an improper use of it, this paper which I very willingly hand to you will serve your purpose. It is an exact copy of the license, and to it I have appended my certificate, as the officiating clergyman who performed the marriage ceremony. Examine it carefully, and you will find the date, and indeed every syllable rigidly accurate. From the original I shall never part, unless to see it replaced in the court house records."
Bending down close to the lamp, she eagerly read and reread the paper which shook like an aspen in her nervous grasp; then she looked long and searchingly into the grave face beside her, and a sudden light broke over her own.
"Oh, thank you! After all, the original is safer in your hands than in mine. I might be murdered, but they would never dare to molest you,--and if I should die, you would not allow them to rob my baby of her name?"
"Your baby!"
He looked at the young girlish figure and face, and it seemed impossible that the creature before him could be a mother. A melancholy smile curved her lips.
"Oh! that is the sting that sometimes goads me almost to desperation. My own wrongs are sufficiently hard to bear, but when I think of my innocent baby denied the sight of her father's face, and robbed of the protection of her father's name, then--I forget that I am only a woman, I forget that God reigns in heaven to right the wrongs on earth, and----"
There was a moment's silence.
"How old is your child?"
"Three years."
"And you? A mere child now."
"I am only nineteen."
"Poor thing! I pity you from the depths of my soul."
The clock struck ten, and the woman started from the table against which she leaned.
"I must not miss the train; I promised to return promptly."
She put on the grey cloak she had thrown aside, buttoned it about her throat, and tied her bonnet strings.
"Before you go, explain one thing. Was not your hair very dark when you were married?"
"Yes, a dark chestnut brown, but when my child was born I was ill a long time, and my head was shaved and blistered. When the hair grew out, it was just as you see it now. Ah! if we had only died then, baby and I, we might have had a quiet sleep under the violets and daisies. I see, sir, you doubt whether I am really little Minnie Merle. Do you not recollect that when you asked for the wedding ring none had been provided, and Cuthbert took one from his own hand, which was placed on my finger? Ah! there was a grim fitness in the selection! A death's head peeping out of a cinerary urn. You will readily recognize the dainty bridal token."
She drew from her bosom a slender gold chain on which was suspended a quaint antique cameo ring of black agate, with a grinning white skull in the centre, and around the oval border of heavily chased gold glittered a row of large and very brilliant diamonds.
"I distinctly remember the circumstance."
As the minister restored the ring to its owner, she returned it and the chain to its hiding-place.
"I do not wear it, I