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Updated: June 27, 2025
Fitz Noodle's, that evening; and Annie, her maid, was down with one of her nervous headaches, and she would be obliged to send for a hair-dresser. Louis Castrani was a guest in the house, by Archer's invitation for the two gentlemen had become friends, warmly and deeply attached to each other, and Mrs. Trevlyn could not help fretting over the unfortunate condition of her cuisine.
Margie turned suddenly upon him, and regarded him searchingly. "Why do you evade answering my questions, Mr. Castrani? It is natural that I should want to hear something of the home from which I have been so long away, is it not? Why do you refuse to satisfy my reasonable curiosity on that subject?" Castrani's handsome face clouded he looked at her with tender pity in his eyes.
Castrani remained in Boston, and saw the remains of the unfortunate Arabel Vere consigned to decent burial, and, that duty accomplished, he took the first train for Lightfield.
Now I am going where I sent him! God be merciful!" "Amen!" responded Louis, fervently. It was very still in the room. Castrani sat by the bedside, waiting for her to speak. She was silent so long he thought she slept, and stooped over to ascertain. Yes, she did sleep. In this world she would never waken more!
She had died a few days before they were to have been married died by the hand of violence, and Castrani had shot the rival who murdered her. Public opinion had favored the avenger, and he had not suffered for the act, but ever since he had been a prey to melancholy.
"Thank Heaven, I am not so lost to all sense of decency as to insult a lady!" said a clear, stern voice; and a tall, distinguished-looking man swept through the crowd, and reached Margie's side. "Indeed, I am not mistaken!" he said, looking at her with amazement. "Miss Harrison!" She saw, as he lifted his hat, the frank, handsome face of Louis Castrani.
Margie spent a large portion of her time out of doors, with only Leo for a companion. She sat, one lovely afternoon, on the bank of the river, dividing her time between the charming panorama of sunshine and shadow before her, and a book of poems in her lap, when there was a step at her side. She looked up, and saw the face of Louis Castrani.
Margie was false, and she had gone away from him under the protection of Castrani. He could have forgiven her anything but that. If she had ceased to love him, and transferred her affections, he could still have wished her all happiness, if she had only been frank with him. But to profess love for him all the while she was planning to elope with another man, was too much!
"It was correct. I loved her deeply, fondly, with my whole soul just as I love her still in spite of all." "Mr. Trevlyn," said Castrani, with cold reproof in his voice, "you have a wife." "I am aware of it, but that does not change my feelings. I have tried to kill all regard for Margaret Harrison, but it is impossible. I can control it, but I cannot make it die.
There was a nine days' wonder over Miss Harrison's sudden exodus. But her aunt was a discreet woman, and it was generally understood that Margie had taken advantage of the pause in the fashionable season to visit some distant relatives, and if ever any one coupled her flight and the departure of Castrani together, it was not made the subject of remark.
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