Chapter VI: The Worst Fate That Could Befall

Delmar had indeed avenged himself. Through Maisie he had pierced the hearts of those who had wronged him with the poisoned arrows of jealous pain. He read it in their wild eyes and blanched faces, and he laughed aloud as he exclaimed, with feigned gaiety:

“How startled you all look! We have stolen a march on you, haven’t we? But won’t you congratulate us?”

Mrs. French followed the minister in shaking the groom’s hand, and kissing the fluttered bride, and Mrs. Shirley came next with eager cordiality.

Indeed, nothing could have pleased her better than this match that removed at once from her path two dreaded incumbrances--Delmar, whom her daughter loved, and Maisie, whom Byrd Barrington adored. She could see her way clear now to making the heir turn to Josephine.

So her congratulations were earnest and cordial, and her face beamed with smiles even as she thought:

“What a little fool Maisie was to reject the rich brother for the disinherited one!”

She looked around for Josephine to follow her example, and was startled into dismay by the sight she saw.

The beautiful girl had sunk back into her chair pale as marble, with closed eyes and twitching lips, the terrible truth quivering like a sword-point in her heart. She had lost Delmar forever, and at this moment she realized that he was dearer to her than ever before.

Oh, they had loved each other so well, and had been so happy together in that love. In her heart she cursed old Barrington in his grave for the wrong he had done his younger son.

Suddenly her mother caught her hand and dragged her impatiently up to her feet.

“Come, Josephine, you must speak to our friends!” she cried.

She was trembling so, she must have slipped and fallen, but that Byrd Barrington quickly supported her on the other side, whispering gently:

“Come. Do not let them see how much you are hurt.”

A sudden elation at his notice helped to restore her self-possession, and, clinging weakly to him, she moved forward, uttering some meaningless words that were drowned in Byrd’s louder tones as he exclaimed:

“I wish you joy, Delmar, and I am sure that this gain will make up to you for the loss of fortune.”

“You are right,” his brother answered bitterly, again glancing at Josephine, whose cold hand he had just touched with one as icy. A sardonic smile curled his writhing lips as he heard Byrd go on frankly, to Maisie:

“I cannot say that I do not envy my brother, Maisie. He has won the prize I coveted, but I wish you all the happiness in the world!”

It was gallantly spoken from the depths of an aching heart, and the embarrassment of the next moment was fortunately broken by the announcement of luncheon.

Maisie, blushing and smiling in her bridal happiness, was led to the table, and all but the pallid, silent Josephine generously united in making her the heroine of the hour. Champagne was opened in her honor, and none could say but the disappointed host bore himself bravely in the hour of his defeat. Nothing was lacking in his cordial hospitality, and as for boisterous gaiety, of course it could not be expected in the house of mourning.

But Delmar had yet another surprise in store for them all that day.

He had been growing impatient for some moments, and pushing back his chair now, he exclaimed suddenly:

“This is delightful, friends, but I must not linger with you longer. I have kept it to the last to tell you that the Young Guards are ordered immediately to the front, and I leave here with my company within two hours.”

There were loud exclamations of surprise that drowned Maisie’s low cry of dismay as she sat staring wide-eyed at her handsome young husband, all the color stricken in a moment from her lovely young face, her heart leaping beneath her white bodice like some wild thing caged and struggling to escape.

Delmar, with his face flushed from excitement, his eyes blazing, looked at the pale, agonized face, and added lightly:

“You might have guessed it from my uniform, I think, and it is strange none of you had heard it. It is too bad, Maisie, is it not, that we are cheated out of our bridal-tour? But stay with Aunt Constance while I’m away, like a good little girl, and we shall go when I return.”

She sat speechless, gazing at him in a grief too great for words, and every eye turned on her face, reading plainly there her heart’s despair.

Delmar, in the passionate excitement of his emotions, went on recklessly:

“Do not look so sad, Maisie; I shall come back to you a captain, at the very least, with laurels of victory on my brow. Ha, ha! That will make you very proud, will it not, dear, faithful little heart that clings to me with devotion while false ones cast me off for lack of gold!”

His flashing glance fell on Josephine, and seemed to wither her heart with its angry scorn, so that she forgot for a moment all her folly and vanity--everything but her own despair, and answered wildly:

“If you are reproaching me, Del, I am not as bad as you think. I--I--had repented my foolish words of last night, and I thought to make up our quarrel to-day--but--but--you spoiled it all, marrying Maisie--so--so--you have no one to blame but yourself for your misery--and mine, alas!” and ending with a choking sob she hid her face in her jeweled hands.

“Josephine!” cried her mother in consternation, and jerking her angrily from her seat she hurried her from the room, reproaching her at every step for her frenzied outburst.

Alone in the dressing-room Josephine tore herself loose from the maternal grasp, and laughed bitterly:

“Let me alone, mama! Do you think I did not know what I was doing? I am more cunning than you think! I enlisted Byrd Barrington’s pity by my acting, and I punished Maisie for looking so happy by letting out what she didn’t know, it seems, that Del had just married her out of spite! Don’t you see how it will work? He despised me while he thought I was heartless, but now his heart will ache over my repentance, and he will wish he had waited a while longer for me to make up. And, of course, he will hate Maisie because she stands between us. Ha, ha! Of course I didn’t mean what I said about making up with him. I only said so to make myself seem less heartless in Byrd’s eyes, and to betray Del to Maisie. No doubt she will hate him now! I hope she will!” sobbed Josephine, divided between rage and wounded love as she tossed the light cloak over her shoulders and turned to go.

“Now that you have explained yourself it does seem very clever, although I was horrified at first,” Mrs. Shirley replied, then turning, as her hostess entered the room. “Ah, Mrs. French, what an unpleasant affair! I hope you will excuse poor Josephine. She is hardly herself after so much excitement. We are going home at once that she may rest.”

Mrs. French owned herself quite flustered also, and she exclaimed:

“It is all a tangle, and poor little Maisie has the worst of it on all sides! To be married for spite without a spark of love is the worst fate that can befall any young girl. I do not think she deserves it. Delmar has treated her shamefully, and how it will end I don’t know. She has rushed out of the room without ever speaking a single word to any one, and Byrd and Del are quarreling in the library. A pity Josephine made such a mess of her love-affair and brought about all this trouble!” she added resentfully, causing the girl to answer sadly:

“You cannot think any worse of me than I do of myself, Mrs. French. Last night in the first excitement I thought I couldn’t marry a poor man, but by morning I repented my selfishness, and meant to make it up with Del, only--only--I was too late! Oh, please forgive me, Mrs. French, and--and--won’t you ask Byrd not to be angry with me, either?” she sobbed as she took a hurried departure with her mother.