CHAPTER XXIII.

Down on the beach they found her--the woman upon whom the blow had fallen so cruelly, and from whom the "grim sickle" had so recently turned aside.

She was sitting on a low grassy knoll, gentle and pensive, a vacant stare in her sweet brown eyes as they wistfully scanned the surface of the water.

"Oh, heavens! We must get her to the house at once! Go, Sam, bring the carriage down. Haste, haste!" urged Mr. Harris.

And then John Thorpe saw her. Absorbed in deep meditation of his wrong to his innocent wife, ashamed and sorrowful, he was proceeding to the little depot, when, observing the frantic rush down the slope, and desiring to ascertain its cause, yet with an indefinable panicky feeling that seemed to freeze the very blood in his veins, he followed on. Without an instant of delay, in a moment, he had leaped to her side, tenderly clasped her to his heart, and with a voice trembling with emotion, said:

"Oh, my darling wife, my pure, sweet, injured Constance! Forgive me! It was all a terrible mistake!"

"I must go now. The storm is nearly over. I know that she is in the water, and the lilies are hiding her from me. But I shall find her. Give me the paddles. Save Dorothy."

Constance had spoken in a soft, quiet voice. It had no touch of bitterness, no plaint of sadness; yet the yearning note of a heart dry with most intense grief was there--sounded on the chord of dethroned reason.

When she began to speak, he looked into her eyes with an eager, appealing tenderness, expecting a responsive, forgiving tear, but instead he met a gentle, strange, vacant stare. As she proceeded he held her from him at arms' length, bewildered and confused for the moment in his interpretation of her meaning, and then the truth burst upon him. Shocked and horrified, he cried out in the anguish of his heart, "Merciful heaven, she is mad!" And then his eyes fell on her wet garments.

"God forgive me, darling! I know you never can!" he said in a voice made husky with a great sob that rose up in his throat. Without further delay, he gathered her unresisting form in his arms and tenderly bore her up to the house. The grave little procession followed.

He had arrived with his precious burden close to the great steps of the piazza, when she struggled from his arms, and stood half turned about, her wistful brown eyes looking blankly at him.

It was then that Virginia appeared on the piazza, her face deathly white and her eyes still bearing traces of the terrifying ordeal she had so recently gone through with Rutley. On seeing Constance, down the steps she flew and folding the shawl about her stricken friend's shoulders, clasped her arms about her and said chokingly: "Oh, why have you followed me, poor suffering heart?"

"I'm so cold," was all Constance said, and she shook as with an ague.

"Oh, this is too appalling to be true! Speak, dear! Throw off that meaningless stare, and assume intellect's rightful light," beseeched Thorpe, and as he paused and gazed upon her sweet pensive face, awaiting recognition, great tears welled up in his eyes and silently rolled down his cheeks. Again he spoke to her: "Constance, do you not know me?" and then he turned his head away with an indescribable sickness at heart.

"Yes! Oh, yes! I know you! You want ransom money for my Dorothy. Very well, you shall have it!" and she thrust her hand into her corsage, and took therefrom some scraps of paper, a few of them falling on the grass. "There are ten thousand"--and she handed the papers to him, in a manner so gentle yet so full of unaffected artfulness, that he took them, while his heart seemed to still its beat and sink leaden and numb with the torture of his own accusing conscience.

"You shall have more," she continued with plaintive assurance, "all I can get." Then her eyes fell on the scraps of paper on the grass. She picked them up and pushed them with the others into his hand. "There are more thousands. Take it all for my Dorothy--my darling! Now give me the paddles, the paddles! Where are the paddles? Hasten, save Dorothy!"

There were no dry eyes in the little gathering of friends--all friends now--who heard her, and even Sam, who had halted on his way to the officers, was forced to turn aside and wipe his eyes and remark in an unsteady voice:

"I don't know what makes my eyes water so."

"God help me!" exclaimed Virginia. "Henceforth my life is consecrated to watch over and care for her."

"I am equally guilty," solemnly continued Mr. Thorpe. "I should not have acted with such anger. This is the blackening left by jealousy's burning passion, the essence of which will cling to my soul long after my heart becomes insensible clay."

"It is not insanity of an incurable kind," gravely remarked Mr. Harris. "I have closely watched her facial expression and it appears to me the trace of reason is not entirely gone. I think she is delirious, and I have read that when persons are delirious some slight token, perchance a flower, a chord of melody, a face, a name, brought forcibly to bear on the mind may recall it to moments of reason. If it is so, then her intellect will recover from the shock. We will bring this to proof, Mrs. Thorpe," he proceeded, "look at these friends about you; do you not remember any of us?"

"I must not rest longer," Constance said suddenly; "I thought I had her once, but the water was so deep I could not reach her."

"We must get her into the house and into bed at once," said Virginia, clasping her tenderly about the waist.

"Dear me! Yes, I am sure her wet garments will jeopardize her health," said Mrs. Harris in support of Virginia.

But Constance resisted, and in doing so sat down on the bench. Hazel addressed her: "Constance, do you not know me? Do you not remember Hazel? Try to think, dear Constance, you surely cannot forget me!"

She slowly shook her head and said plaintively: "The storm is over. Make the boat go faster. We must be quick. There, she is calling--'Mama! Papa! Mama! Help!' Listen, Virginia, dear, do you not hear her?" And sure, enough, the voice of Dorothy was heard, saying: "Oh, Sam! Where is mama? Tell me."

And around from the conservatory, with a snow white aster in her hand, ran the child, followed by Sam, who, fearing the child in her rambles was likely to discover the presence of Rutley, induced her to appear on the front lawn by telling her that her mother was not far away. The child did not stop, but continued right up to her mother and clasped her arms about her neck.

"Oh, mama! Dear mama! I'm so glad you have come! Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Receiving no immediate response, the child unclasped her arms and drew back a pace offended.

"That voice!" said Constance, startled. She drew the tips of her fingers across her forehead, very much like one clutching at the filmy shreds of a vanishing dream. "Oh, the boat rocks!"

"Mama, aren't you going to speak to me?" and tears began to gather in the child's eyes. Again Constance started, and her frame trembled, as her eyes rested on Dorothy. She raised her hands slowly and covered her face. Again she removed her hands and muttered: "It's a spectre--a thing unreal which haunts me. Leave me. Pity me, oh, pity me, shade of my darling! You pain me! You make my heart ache! Go, go!"

Dorothy wept, and turning to Virginia, said: "Mama won't kiss me, nor speak to me," and the heartbroken child buried her head sobbing in the folds of Virginia's dress.

Constance pressed her hand over her heart and muttered: "Oh, John, I have been faithful to you, yet you doubted me--spurned me on that dreadful night I found Dorothy! She is gone from me now--gone, gone, gone!" and she bent forward, covering her face with her hands, and sobbed bitterly.

"Thank heaven!" exclaimed Virginia, "reason's floodgates have opened at last."

Sam again turned away to wipe his eyes, saying, "I cannot think what makes my eyes so sore."

And John Thorpe exclaimed, with trembling lips, "My God, have mercy! I cannot bear this!" And he, too, turned as though to walk away.

Mr. Harris held up a warning finger for him to stay.

"My poor mama!" and Dorothy again went close to her, comprehending in her childish way that her mother was sorely distressed. The sound of the child's voice caught Constance's attention. She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on Dorothy. Then she fell forward on her knees, stretched out her hands and murmured: "Not gone, still here!" She touched the child's hands and uttered a low cry, continuing in quavering accents of fear, of hope, of joy:

"Solid flesh; warm, pulsating life!" and she gently clasped the child's face between her two hands. "You cannot be a phantom! In the name of heaven, speak!"

"Indeed, mama, I am your own Dorothy. Aren't you going to kiss me?" and the child again entwined her arms about her mother's neck and looked into her eyes with a wistful appeal.

"Dorothy, my darling Dorothy, alive!"

It was a moment of absorbing interest. For an instant she held the child at arms' length, with eyes devouring her lineaments. Then in a rapture of joy and thanksgiving she folded Dorothy to her heart and kissed her again and again.

"Oh, heaven, I thank thee!" were the only words she could utter, as she strained the little form tighter to her heart. And as she looked upward, and the mist cleared from her eyes, she saw John bending toward her--saw him lift his arms and outstretch them to her--saw his lips part, and heard him say, as though his heart were in his mouth, "Constance, forgive me!"

Oh, such sweet relief! Her gaze was steadfast for an instant, then arising to her feet, she fell on his breast and clasped her arms about his neck and sobbed, "John! My own dear John! I've had such a horrid dream!"

He folded his arms about her and pressed her very close to his breast, and as his lips tremulously touched her forehead, said with heartfelt fervor: "God grant that we may never part again. No, nevermore, my darling Constance."

"Thank heaven, she was only delirious!" fervently exclaimed Mr. Harris.

"I guess so, eh, aunty?" and Sam, with a look of immense satisfaction, suddenly threw his arms about Virginia and gave her a tremendous hug, and to his inexpressible joy and amazement she reciprocated his caress.

"Noble Sam, my hero, you have won my heart at last!"

Her words were of tremendous meaning to Sam. His joy knew no bounds. He looked over to his aunt, amazement, intense satisfaction and admiration sparkling in his eyes. "At last, eh, aunty!" and then his lips touched Virginia's in a kiss of undying fidelity.