that heart-broken cry struck instant terror to the souls of both men. clifford started to his feet, and mr. temple sprang forward, with a muttered oath, toward the portières that screened an alcove at one end of the room, just as they parted, and minnie temple appeared in the aperture.
"oh, papa, papa! what does it all mean?" she wailed as she fell into his outstretched arms, and he caught her almost fiercely to his breast. "i have heard every word that you have said. i came in here after dinner, laid down on the couch in the alcove and went to sleep. i awoke when clifford faxon came in, but was too late to leave; then when you began to talk i remained where i was—forgot everything but what you were saying. oh, tell me, what is this dreadful story about mamma and me, and about mr. faxon being your son? i must know—i must know! i will know!"
the poor girl was fearfully wrought up, and at this point lapsed into violent hysterics that alarmed both her companions.
with the child still hugged to his bosom and a face like chalk, mr. temple strode to the mantle and touched an electric button.
"send mrs. maxfield immediately—miss minnie is ill," he said when the butler appeared.
then he attempted to soothe her, calling her every endearing name he could think of, and assuring her that there was no story—she simply dreamed or had a horrible nightmare.
but she was past all reason, and when the housekeeper appeared she was borne up-stairs in an almost unconscious condition and put to bed, while clifford quietly left the house, but with an exceedingly heavy heart.
a physician was summoned, and after powerful anodynes had been administered the child fell into a profound stupor, from which she did not arouse until the next morning.
but, of course, when the effects of the sleeping potion wore off and memory returned, the girl, who was mature beyond her years, sent for her father and insisted upon being told the truth about herself.
mr. temple tried to evade her as he had done the night previous, by trying to convince her that she had only been dreaming; but she asserted that she knew better, and appealed to her mother—who had been out at a reception the night before—to make her father explain what she had overheard.
mr. temple was in despair—he felt that the web of fate was closing around him, and, for the first time in his life, fell into a violent passion with her, sternly commanding her to stop questioning him regarding what was none of her affairs, but had been purely a matter of business between himself and mr. faxon.
of course, the curiosity of both mrs. temple and philip, who was also present, was aroused, and, upon their insistence, minnie faithfully rehearsed the conversation between her father and clifford, and, thus brought to bay, the wretched millionaire was forced to make a clean breast of everything.
it was a crushing blow to the entire family. mrs. temple shut herself up in her own room and would see no one for three days.
then she sent for philip, who seemed to have been suddenly transformed, and bore himself with a grave dignity that he had never worn before.
they were closeted for several hours; then they requested mr. temple to come to them. he obeyed the summons, but appeared like an old man, out of whom all hope and ambition had been crushed.
he tried many times to see his wife during those three, to him, endless days; but she would not admit him. he had sent her note after note that were pitiful in their expressions of remorse and appeals for forgiveness. his heart sank anew within him as he now entered her presence and noted how she had also changed. when he would have greeted her with his customary caress he was waved to a distant chair with an air of repulsion.
"i have come to the decision, mr. temple, that there is but one thing for me to do," she began, but without looking at him, "and that is to leave washington immediately, seek some place of retirement and hide my shame as best i can."
"don't nell! oh—don't!" cried the stricken man, cringing before her; "no breath of shame shall touch you, my darling; we will right everything."
"right everything!" exclaimed the outraged woman, turning upon him in righteous indignation. "do you presume to talk of righting such a wrong as mine at this late day? do you imagine that the formal benediction of a clergyman would restore to me the self-respect of which you have deliberately robbed me, or wipe out the stigma that rests upon my child? i am not your wife—i have never been your wife—i have simply been, like a piece of merchandise, labeled with your name, and—i will never answer to it again."
"oh, nell! forgive—you break my heart!" groaned the wretched listener.
"break your heart!" the almost maddened woman exclaimed with a bitter laugh. "ah, me! one could scarce expect anything else—you think only of your heart, your suffering. it is all of a piece with the selfishness and recklessness that wrecked the life of that other woman, although the wrong done her is not to be compared with mine. she at least was a legal wife and her child legitimate, while i—oh, heavens!—to think what i am! what my child is!" and she threw out her clenched hands with a cry of mingled shame and agony that rang sharply through the room.
"mother, hush! do not go over all that again!" philip here interposed, with quiet authority. "there is no call for you to mourn any loss of self-respect, for you are in no way responsible for this wrong, and we will guard minnie so tenderly that the world shall never have an opportunity to make her suffer a single pang. of course," he continued with grave thoughtfulness, "things cannot go on as they are. if your decision—that you will not legally assume the name that you have hitherto borne—is irrevocable, we must arrange for as quiet a separation as possible, for minnie's sake——"
"oh, nell! spare me that, i beg," pleaded mr. temple, with a heartbroken sob. "oh, forgive me this great wrong; don't talk of separation; let me make you legally my wife, then we will go away to europe—or anywhere you like—and i will be your slave—i will do my utmost to atone for the past and make you happy for the future. no one need ever know aught of this secret. faxon is honor itself, and he assured me that no hint of it should ever escape his lips, and i am sure he would keep his word—phil, you know that he can be depended upon."
"yes," philip gravely asserted, after a moment of hesitation, "i know, if faxon said that he will abide by it. but, mr. temple," he resumed in a tone which was an indication of his own attitude, "i feel sure that my mother has received a shock from which she can never recover, and i agree with her that a separation will be the wisest measure to adopt under the circumstances."
"let your mother speak for herself, if you please, phil," mr. temple interrupted, as he braced himself in his chair and turned his haggard face toward the woman whom he adored.
the proud, beautiful worldling shivered as if an icy wind had blown over her, for she had loved this man who, for twelve almost idealistic years, she had regarded as her husband. she had scarce had a wish ungratified; she had enjoyed his wealth and been proud of her position in society.
but, as philip had said, the shock which she had sustained had been one from which she could never rally, for it had killed both love and respect at one blow. she did not move or lift her glance to him as she said in an almost inaudible voice.
"phil has stated it right—i can never forgive the fearful wrong that you have done me. we must part."
"how about—minnie?" mr. temple questioned, a look of despair on his face.
it was an unfortunate question. it aroused all the lioness in the outraged woman, and she turned upon him with a burst of passion of which he had never imagined her capable.
"minnie is mine!" she cried in a voice that rang shrilly through the room—"mine by the right of motherhood and—oh, god!—mine, exclusively mine, by right of the shame which you have entailed upon us both."
it was a terrible thrust, and william temple threw out his hands with a gesture of keenest anguish, as if warding off the point of a dagger. he sat like one stunned for several moments, and there was no sound in the room.
finally the man lifted his bowed head and observed in a hollow tone and with a look of utter hopelessness:
"very well, nell, it will have to be as you say; but no breath of shame from the world shall ever touch either of you—i could not bear that. i know i deserve my punishment, and i bow to the inevitable. you shall have minnie—i relinquish her to you—and you shall go where you will; or, if you prefer to remain here in washington, i will go to the ends of the earth, on some plausible errand, and you shall never hear of me again.
"now"—rising feebly and holding onto the back of his chair, while he gazed on her with the look of one whose heart was breaking—"arrange everything to suit yourself. i will not lay a straw in your way, and you shall have all the money you want."
he tottered from the room, groping his way down-stairs and walking like one who has been stricken blind, sought the library, and locked himself in to keep out intruders, while trying to face a future which did not seem to have a single ray of hope to make it worth the living.
there they found him five hours later, sitting before his desk, his head bowed upon his outstretched arms, unconscious and almost rigid.
the butler, desiring some instructions regarding certain orders his master had given him, rapped upon the door for admission; but, after repeated attempts, receiving no answer, he had gone out upon the veranda and entered the room by a window, to find the occupant of the room in the condition described.
he was borne to his room and the family physician summoned, when the attack was pronounced an apoplectic stroke.
he recovered consciousness after a few days, but could move neither hand nor foot, while the verdict of the doctors was that his days, even his hours, were numbered.
when this was made known to mrs. temple she seemed to become like one petrified. she sat motionless and speechless for several minutes; then she burst into a passion of weeping, so violent in her utter abandonment to her overwhelming grief that she was utterly prostrated by it; the flood-gates that had hitherto been held back by an almost indomitable will and pride were lifted, and all her pent-up sorrow and shame were let loose.
when the storm finally spent itself she slept from sheer exhaustion, and did not wake for several hours. then she was calm, and once more mistress of herself, and clothing herself in soft, noiseless garments, she went directly to her husband, a chastened look on her face, an air of gentleness and resignation in her bearing that hitherto had been wholly foreign to her.
almost ever since memory had returned to him, the sick man had lain with his eyes fastened upon the door leading from his room, and with a look of longing in them that was pathetic beyond description.
when, at length, it opened to admit his wife, his whole face lighted with an expression of joy that nearly made her weep again, but which sent a thrill to her own heart that told her she loved him still, in spite of the irreparable wrong he had done her.
she went to his bed and sat down beside him, gathering one of his lifeless hands into hers, and, bending over him, kissed him on the forehead.
two great tears welled up from the fountain of his heart and brimmed over upon his cheeks. his wife gently wiped them away and questioned tenderly:
"will, is there anything you would like me to do for you?"
he closed his eyes slowly, thus signifying that there was, then, opening them again, he glanced toward the nurse.
"do you wish to be alone with me for a while?" mrs. temple inquired.
yes, the sad eyes signified, and the attendant went immediately out.
"now, dear, how can i manage to find out just what you want?" said mrs. temple, when the door was closed.
again that intensely yearning look was fastened upon her face, and she instinctively divined his thought at once.
"is it that you wish me to say something kind to you?" she asked.
his look brightened, but the tears started at the same time.
"well, then, will, dear," began the chastened wife, in a voice that was tremulous with emotion, "i have fought my battle out, and i believe i can truly say that i forgive all. i see now that i was selfish in thinking only of my own suffering—i had no right to be cruel to you when you were more wretched than i. get well, will—try to get well, and then we will all go to some quiet place and begin to live in a more earnest and sensible way."
the tears were raining thick and fast now from the man's eyes, but she wiped them away, while she continued to talk to him in a soothing, comforting strain, until he became more composed. but she soon saw that there was still something on his mind, and she tried to ascertain what it was, but though she asked many questions regarding his business and certain appointments which she knew he had made, she could not seem to get at his thought.
at last she told him that she would say the alphabet and they would spell out his wish. when she reached the letter m, he signified that was right, and she instantly jumped to a conclusion, and inquired:
"do you want minnie?—how strange i did not think of that before!"
yes, the eyes assented. mrs. temple rang the bell and sent for the child, who had not been allowed to come into the room, except for a moment or two, while her father was sleeping.
she soon made her appearance, looking pale and drooping, for the sensitive girl had been stricken to the heart by what she had learned, and inexpressibly lonely and wretched while her mother was brooding over her own misery.
mrs. temple folded her in her arms and kissed her tenderly, then made her sit down in her own chair, while she drew another near for herself.
"papa wished me to send for you, dear," she said; "he cannot speak, but you may talk to him a little; and, love, say something kind to him," she concluded, with her lips close to minnie's ear.
minnie sat down by the sick man and laid her cheek against his with all her accustomed fondness.
"papa," she murmured, "i love you—i am so sorry you are ill and cannot talk to me; but"—now lifting her head and looking earnestly into his eyes—"you know that i love you—that i shall always love you."
the look of yearning and agony which he bent upon her was more than she could bear, and, dropping her head again upon his pillow, she added:
"now cannot you go to sleep for a little while; i will sit here beside you and hold your hand; then, perhaps, when you are rested you can talk to me a little."
she clasped his hand in both of her own soft, warm palms, raised it to her lips, kissed it, and held it there, and for nearly half an hour there was no sound in the room.
finally the nurse came softly in, to look after her patient, and mrs. temple turned, with her finger upon her lips.
"they are both asleep," she whispered.
it was true, both the man and child were wrapped in slumber; one in that which knows no waking, the other in the innocent, restful sleep of childhood.
