Infelice | Page 4

help you."
Perhaps the genuine pity in the tone brought back sweet memories of
the bygone, and for a moment softened the girl's heart, for tears
gathered in the large eyes, giving them a strange quivering radiance. As
if ashamed of the weakness she threw her head back defiantly, and
continued:
"I was the poor little orphan, whose grandmother did washing and
mending for the college boys--only little unknown Minnie Merle, with
none to aid in asserting her rights;--and she--the new wife--was a
banker's daughter, an heiress, a fashionable belle,--and so Minnie Merle
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 Biörn, 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