Behind a Mask

"You are right, Jean, this is not the place for you; and you must let me

see you in a safer home before I go," said Ned, significantly.

"It strikes me that this will be a particularly safe home when your

dangerous self is removed," began Coventry, with an aggravating smile of

calm superiority.

"And I think that I leave a more dangerous person than myself behind

me, as poor Lucia can testify."

"Be careful what you say, Ned, or I shall be forced to remind you that I

am master here. Leave Lucia's name out of this disagreeable affair, if

you please."

"You are master here, but not of me, or my actions, and you have no

right to expect obedience or respect, for you inspire neither. Jean, I

asked you to go with me secretly; now I ask you openly to share my

fortune. In my brother's presence I ask, and will have an answer."

He caught her hand impetuously, with a defiant look at Coventry, who

still smiled, as if at boy's play, though his eyes were kindling and his

face changing with the still, white wrath which is more terrible than

any sudden outburst. Miss Muir looked frightened; she shrank away from

her passionate young lover, cast an appealing glance at Gerald, and

seemed as if she longed to claim his protection yet dared not.

"Speak!" cried Edward, desperately. "Don't look to him, tell me truly,

with your own lips, do you, can you love me, Jean?"

"I have told you once. Why pain me by forcing another hard reply," she

said pitifully, still shrinking from his grasp and seeming to appeal to

his brother.

"You wrote a few lines, but I'll not be satisfied with that. You shall

answer; I've seen love in your eyes, heard it in your voice, and I know

it is hidden in your heart. You fear to own it; do not hesitate, no one

can part us--speak, Jean, and satisfy me."

Drawing her hand decidedly away, she went a step nearer Coventry, and

answered, slowly, distinctly, though her lips trembled, and she

evidently dreaded the effect of her words, "I will speak, and speak

truly. You have seen love in my face; it is in my heart, and I do not

hesitate to own it, cruel as it is to force the truth from me, but this

love is not for you. Are you satisfied?"

He looked at her with a despairing glance and stretched his hand toward

her beseechingly. She seemed to fear a blow, for suddenly she clung to

Gerald with a faint cry. The act, the look of fear, the protecting

gesture Coventry involuntarily made were too much for Edward, already

excited by conflicting passions. In a paroxysm of blind wrath, he caught

up a large pruning knife left there by the gardener, and would have

dealt his brother a fatal blow had he not warded it off with his arm.

The stroke fell, and another might have followed had not Miss Muir with

unexpected courage and strength wrested the knife from Edward and flung

it into the little pond near by. Coventry dropped down upon the seat,

for the blood poured from a deep wound in his arm, showing by its rapid

flow that an artery had been severed. Edward stood aghast, for with the

blow his fury passed, leaving him overwhelmed with remorse and shame.