Mischievous Maid Faynie Read online

  MISCHIEVOUS MAID FAYNIE

  Author's Special Edition

  by

  LAURA JEAN LIBBEY

  Author of _Ione_, _Parted By Fate_, _Sweet Kitty Clover_, etc.

  1899

  Cover of Mischievous Maid Faynie]

  CHAPTER I.

  THE LOVER'S TRYST.

  It was five o'clock on a raw, gusty February afternoon. All that day andall the night before it had been snowing hard. New York lay buriedbeneath over two feet of its cold white mantle, and with the gatheringdusk a fierce hurricane set in, proclaiming the approach of the terribleblizzard which had been predicted.

  On this afternoon, which was destined to be so memorable, two young menwere breasting the sleet and hail, which tore down Broadway withdemoniac glee, as though amused that the cable cars were stalled fully amile along the line, and the people were obliged to get out and walk,facing the full fury of the elements, if they hoped to arrive at theirdestinations that night.

  It could easily be ascertained by the gray, waning light that both youngmen were tall, broad-shouldered and handsome of face, bearing astriking resemblance to one another.

  They were seldom in each other's company, but those who saw them thusjumped naturally to the conclusion that they were twin brothers; butthis was a great mistake; they were only cousins. One was ClintonKendale, whom everybody was speaking of as "the rage of New York," thehandsomest actor who had ever trod the metropolitan boards, the idol ofthe matinee girls, and the greatest attraction the delighted managershad gotten hold of for years.

  His companion was of not much consequence, only Lester Armstrong,assistant cashier in the great dry goods house of Marsh & Co., on upperBroadway.

  He had entered their employ as a cashboy; had grown to manhood in theirservice, and he had no further hope for the future, save to remain inhis present position by strict application, proving himself worthy of agreater opportunity if the head cashier ever chose to retire.

  He lived in the utmost simplicity, was frugal, dressed with unusualplainness, and put by money.

  He hadn't a relative on earth, save his handsome, debonair cousin, whonever sought him out save when he wanted to borrow money of him.

  Clint Kendale's salary was fifty dollars per week, but that did not gofar toward paying his bills at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, keeping a fasthorse and giving wine suppers. In his early youth he had begun the pacehe was now going. He had received a fine collegiate education, and athis majority stepped into the magnificent fortune his parents had lefthim. It took him just one year to run through it, then, penniless, hecame from Boston to New York and sought out his poor cousin. LesterArmstrong succeeded in getting a position for Kendale with the same firmwith which he was employed, but at the end of the first week ClintonKendale threw it up with disgust, declaring that what he had gonethrough these six days was too much for him. He had rather die thanwork.

  He borrowed a hundred dollars from his Cousin Lester and suddenlydisappeared. When he was next heard from he blossomed out, astonishingall New York as the handsomest society actor who had ever graced themetropolitan boards, and caused a furore.

  There was another great difference between the two cousins, and that wasa heart; just one of them possessed it, and that one was LesterArmstrong.

  On this particular afternoon Kendale had lain in wait for his cousin atthe entrance of Marsh & Co.'s to waylay him when he came from theoffice. He must see him, he told himself, and Lester must let him haveanother loan.

  Lester Armstrong was glad from the bottom of his true, honest heart tosee him, but his brow clouded over with a troubled expression when helearned that he wanted to borrow five hundred dollars. That amountseemed small, indeed, to the lordly Kendale, but to Lester it meantmonths of toil and rigid self-denial.

  "Come into the cafe, and while we lunch I will explain to you why I musthave it, old fellow," said Kendale, always ready with some plausiblestory on his glib tongue.

  "Haven't time now," declared Armstrong. "I must catch the five-twentytrain from the Grand Central Depot; haven't a moment to lose. I will beback on the nine o'clock train. If you will come over to my lodginghouse then I'll talk with you. I cannot let you have the sum you want.I'll tell you why then, and you will readily understand my position. Ah,this is your corner. We part here. Wish me luck on the trip I am aboutto take, for I never had more need for your good wishes."

  "You are not going off to be married, I hope?" exclaimed Kendale in thegreatest of astonishment.

  A light-hearted, happy, ringing laugh broke from Armstrong's mustachedlips, the color rushed into his face, and his brown eyes twinkledmerrily.

  "There's the dearest little girl in all the world in the case," headmitted, "but I haven't time to tell you about it now. I'll see youlater."

  With this remark he plunged forward into the gathering gloom, leavingClinton Kendale standing motionless gazing after him in the greatestsurprise. But the cold was too intense for him to remain there but aninstant; then wheeling about, he hastily struck into a side street,muttering between his teeth:

  "He must let me have that five hundred dollars, or I am ruined. I musthave it from him by fair means or foul, ere the light of another daydawns. I've borrowed a cool two thousand from him in four months. Iwonder how much more he has laid by? I must have that five hundred, nomatter what I have to resort to to get it, that's all there is about it.I am desperate to-night, and a person in my terrible fix fears neitherGod nor man."

  Meanwhile Lester Armstrong pushed rapidly onward, scarcely heeding thebitter cold and terrible, raging storm, for his heart was in a glow.

  He reached the Grand Central Depot just as the gates were closing, butmanaged to dash through them and swing himself aboard of the train justas it was moving out of the station.

  The car was crowded; standing room only seemed to be the prospect, butthe young man did not seem disturbed by it, but settled his broad frameagainst the door and looked out at the sharp sleet that lashed againstthe window panes with something like a smile on his lips.

  He had scarcely twenty miles to ride thus, but that comfortingremembrance did not cause the pleasant smile to deepen about the mobilemouth.

  He was thinking of the lovely young girl who had written him a note tosay that she expected him at the trysting place, without fail, at seventhat evening, as she had something of the greatest importance tocommunicate to him.

  "Of course my dear little girl will not keep the appointment in such ablizzard as this. She could not have foreseen how the weather would bewhen she wrote the precious little note that is tucked away so carefullyin my breast pocket; but, like a true knight, I must obey my littlelady's commands, no matter what they may be, despite storm ortempests--ay, even though I rode through seas of blood!"

  Half a score of times the engine became firmly wedged in snowdrifts intraversing as many miles. There were loud exclamations of discomfitureon all sides, but the handsome young man never heard them. He was stillstaring out of the window--staring without seeing--and the smile on hisface had given place to an expression of deep wistfulness.

  "Sometimes I wonder how I have dared to aspire to her love--thebeautiful, petted daughter of a millionaire, and I only an assistantcashier on a very humble salary--ay, a salary so small that my wholeyear's earnings is less than the pin money she spends each month.

  "If she were but poor like myself, how quickly I would make her mine.How can I, how dare I, ask her to share my lot? Will her father beamused, or terribly angry at my presumption?

  "This sort of thing must stop. I cannot be meeting my darlingclandestinely any longer. My honor forbids, my manhood cries out againstit.

  "But, oh, God! how the thought terrifies me that from the moment theyfind out th
at we have met, and are lovers, they will try to partus--tear my darling from me!"

  They had met in a very ordinary manner, but to the infatuated younglover it seemed the most ideal, most romantic of meetings. The prettylittle heiress had gone to the office of Marsh & Co. to settle hermonthly account. The old cashier was out to lunch. His assistant, LesterArmstrong, stepped forward and attended to the matter for the prettyyoung girl, surely the sweetest and daintiest that he had ever beheld.

  That night he dreamed of the lovely, dimpled rosebud face, framed in amass of golden curls; a pair of bewildering violet eyes, and a gay,musical voice like a chiming of silver bells, and lo! the mischief wasdone. The next day the assistant cashier made the first mistake of hislife over his accounts. The old cashier, Mr. Conway, looked at himgrimly from over the tops of his gold-rimmed glasses.

  "I hope you have not taken to playing cards nights, Mr. Armstrong," hesaid. "They are dangerous; avoid them. Wine is still worse, and aboveall, let me warn you against womankind. They are a snare and a delusion.Avoid them, one and all, as you would a pestilence."

  But the warning had come to the handsome young assistant cashier toolate.