Free Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 by Plots (and) Counterplots (v1.1) Page A

smoothly, though the dust that lay thickly everywhere showed that this
passage was still unused. Stepping into his room, Douglas gave a searching
glance about him, and in an instant an expression of utter bewilderment fell
upon his face, for there, on the exact spot which had been empty five minutes
ago, there lay the iron ring!
     

Chapter IV
     
    A SHRED OF LACE
     
                 LONG
before any of the other guests were down, Diana stole into the m garden on her
way to the park. Hope shone in her eyes, smiles sat on her lips, and her heart
sang for joy. She had long loved in secret; had believed and despaired
alternately; and now her desire was about to be fulfilled, her happiness
assured by a lover’s voice. Hurrying through the wilderness of autumn flowers,
she reached the shrubbery that divided park and garden. Pausing an instant to see if anyone awaited her beyond, she gave a great start, and
looked as if she had encountered a ghost.
                 It
was only Mrs. Vane; she often took early strolls in the park, followed by her
man; Diana knew this, but had forgotten it in her new bliss. She was alone now,
and as she seemed unconscious of her presence, Diana would have noiselessly
withdrawn, if a glimpse of Mrs. Vane’s face had not arrested and detained her.
As if she had thrown herself down in a paroxysm of distress, sat Mrs. Vane,
with both hands tightly clasped; her white lips were compressed, and in her
eyes was a look of mingled pain, grief, and despair. The most careless observer
would have detected the presence of some great anxiety or sorrow, and Diana,
made generous by the assurance of her own happiness, for the first time felt a
touch of pity for the woman of whom she had been both envious and jealous.
Forgetting herself, she hastened forward, saying kindly, “Are you suffering,
Mrs. Vane? What can I do for you?”
                 Mrs.
Vane started as if she had been shot, sprang to her feet, and putting out her
hands as if to keep the other off, cried, almost incoherently, “Go back! Go
back, and save yourself! For me you can do nothing —it is too late!”
                 “Indeed,
I hope not. Tell me your trouble, and let me help you if I can,” urged Diana,
shocked yet not alarmed by the wildness of Mrs. Vane’s look and manner.
                 But
she only clasped her hands before her face, saying despairingly, “You can help
both of us—but at what a price!”
                 “No
price will be too costly, if I can honorably pay it. I have been unjust,
unkind; forgive it, and confide in me; for indeed, I pity you.”
                “Ah, if I dared!” sighed Mrs. Vane.
“It seems impossible, and yet I ought — for you, not I,
will suffer most from my enforced silence.”
                 She paused an instant, seemed to calm herself by strong effort,
and, fixing her mournful eyes upon Diana, she said, in a strangely solemn and
impressive manner, “Miss Stuart, if ever a woman needed help and pity, it is I.
You have misjudged, distrusted, and disliked me; I freely forgive this, and
long to save you, as I alone can do. But a sacred promise fetters me—I dare not
break it; yet if you will pledge your word to keep this interview secret, I
will venture to give you one hint, one warning, which may save you from
destroying your peace forever. Will you give me this assurance?”
                 Diana
shrank back, disturbed and dismayed by the appeal and the requirement. Mrs.
Vane saw her hesitation, and wrung her hands together in an agony of impotent
regret.
                 “I
knew it—I feared it. You will not trust me—you will not let me ease my
conscience by trying to save another woman from the fate that darkens all my
life. Go your way, then, and when the bitter hour comes, remember that I tried
to save you from it, and you would not hear me.” “Stay, Mrs. Vane! I do trust
you—I will