62. CHAPTER LXII.
FACE TO FACE.
In spite of his natural powers of self-control, which long habit
had strengthened, Harley turned extremely pale, and his eyes were
fixed with a startled expression upon the lady.
“Look!” whispered Miss Clementina to Evelyn, who sat close to
the wall at one side of the fireplace, and was somewhat in shadow.
The young lady made no reply. Every particle of color had faded
from her cheeks, and she was breathing heavily.
“He recognizes her!” whispered Miss Clementina behind her
fan: “listen!”
Harley bowed low. He was as pale as before, but the startled
expression had disappeared.
As his tall figure rose erect again, he saw Mrs. Bland looking at
him with a kindly smile, and heard her say,
“How do you do, Mr. Harley? I am very glad to see you. It
has been a long time since you were here, has it not, my dear?
Excuse me, I am an old person now, and speak to everybody in the
same way. Have you been well? I think you are a little pale. Ah!
you young people are not as ruddy as the old-time young men.
There was your father—he was as fresh-looking as a rose, and his
cheeks were as red as a girl's. You have his portrait, I think, at
Huntsdon, and I should really like to see it again. It has been
twenty years—yes! twenty years, I really believe, since I visited
Huntsdon! But I am running on too much—excuse me, my dear—
sit down!”
Harley quietly sat down, murmuring some inarticulate words.
He looked at Evelyn as he did so. She had turned away her head,
and he could not see her face. The silence was becoming oppressive,
when it was interrupted by Fanny, who, turning her face,
framed in its bright curls, over her shoulder, said, smiling,
“I hope you came to see me, Mr. Harley! I suppose Mr. St. Leger
told you of my accident, and as you were always such a good friend
of ours, I expected you would come to inquire about me.”
“I am very glad to find you are not seriously hurt, my child,”
said Harley, commanding his voice with difficulty.
“Oh no! It is nothing, and everybody has been so kind to me
that I am almost glad I was hurt.”
She looked affectionately at the lady at her side.
“You would come, I knew, just as soon as you heard of it!” she
said; “and to think!—you walked all the way in the snow, with
your thin shoes!—how good to me you are!”
The Lady of the Snow made no reply. She seemed to have fallen
into a sort of stupor. She had never once looked at Harley after
the first frightened glance, which had been followed by a sudden
catching of her breath, as though she were about to faint. She now
sat, holding Fanny's hand mechanically, her eyes fixed upon the
bed, her color coming and going.
“Well, well!” said Mrs. Bland, who had made out a part of Fanny's
words, “we certainly ought to be good to you, my dear; you
are like a little snow-drop—and you know the Bible says we sometimes
entertain angels unawares! I think you are quite a little
angel, Fanny! Is she not, Mr. Harley? So you know Fanny? She
and Mr. St. Leger are excellent friends—and this lady, who lives
with her—she is devoted to her.”
Miss Clementina had leaned back, and now, raising her fan so that
it concealed her face, whispered to Evelyn,
“Look at him! He is as white as a sheet!—and look at her!”
“Yes,” murmured Evelyn, who seemed to be about to faint.
“What do you think now?” whispered the lady behind the fan,
in spiteful triumph. “Is this woman, or is she not, Mrs. Harley?”
Evelyn made no reply. A deadly chill seemed to pass through
her frame. She shook, and looked toward the poor Lady of the
Snow and then at Harley, with a sick and scornful gaze, full of indignation
and despair.
“Indeed,” continued good Mrs. Bland, in her sweet, silvery voice,
as she went on knitting, “I do not wonder that everybody loves
you, Fanny, or that your friends should walk through the snow to
see you! How did the news reach your family? Oh yes—your
father! Or was it you, Mr. Harley? You know dear Fanny, and
no doubt know this lady too—do you not?”
“Listen! listen!” whispered Miss Clementina. “Does he know
her? See what he will say!”
A dead silence followed Mrs. Bland's words.
“Look at her!”
Miss Clementina rose unconsciously, exclaiming, aloud,
“She is going to faint!”
She hastened, as she spoke, toward the Lady of the Snow. But
assistance came too late. The poor woman had let her head fall
upon Fanny's hand; then her thin figure was seen to droop, and,
[ILLUSTRATION]
"Then her thin figure was seen to droop."—P. 252.
[Description: 513EAF. Image of The Lady fainting onto the small couch where Fanny lies. Harley and St. Leger look on in horror as the women, Evelyn, Clementina, Annie and Mrs. Bland, rush to her aid.]
before any one could reach her, she fell sidewise, like a wounded
bird, on the floor at Mrs. Bland's feet.
The overstrained nerves, too cruelly taxed, had yielded. Giving
way to what seemed overpowering agony, she had fainted.
Miss Clementina rushed for a glass of water, and it was Evelyn
Bland, who, forgetting her own agony, reached the sufferer first, and
raised her in her arms.
For an instant the two persons remained motionless in that attitude,
the poor, insensible Lady of the Snow lying with her pale face
on Evelyn's bosom.
Harley and St. Leger rose instinctively and went toward the door.
As he went out, Harley turned his head, his eyes full of vague
wonder. As he did so, he met the eyes of Evelyn Bland, and that
look haunted him afterwards. It was full of scorn, indignation and
wretchedness. One thought only was burning in the girl's breast—
“This is his wife!”
