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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12348-0.txt b/12348-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..057ca4f --- /dev/null +++ b/12348-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7822 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12348 *** + +RICHARD VANDERMARCK + +A Novel + +By MRS. SIDNEY S. HARRIS + +Author of "Rutledge," "St. Phillips," etc., etc. + +1871 + + + + + + + +To S.S.H. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I. +VARICK-STREET + +CHAPTER II. +VERY GOOD LUCK + +CHAPTER III. +KILIAN + +CHAPTER IV. +MY COMPANIONS + +CHAPTER V. +THE TUTOR + +CHAPTER VI. +MATINAL + +CHAPTER VII. +THREE WEEKS TOO LATE + +CHAPTER VIII. +SUNDAY + +CHAPTER IX. +A DANCE + +CHAPTER X. +EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN. + +CHAPTER XI. +SOPHIE'S WORK + +CHAPTER XII. +PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME + +CHAPTER XIV. +GUARDED + +CHAPTER XV. +I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM + +CHAPTER XVI. +AUGUST THIRTIETH + +CHAPTER XVII. +BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN + +CHAPTER XVIII. +A JOURNEY + +CHAPTER XIX. +SISTER MADELINE + +CHAPTER XX. +THE HOUR OF DAWN + +CHAPTER XXI. +APRÉS PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN + +CHAPTER XXII. +A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON + +CHAPTER XXIII. +A REVERSAL + +CHAPTER XXIV. +MY NEW WORLD + +CHAPTER XXV. +BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU + +CHAPTER XXVI. +A DINNER + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +VARICK STREET. + + O for one spot of living green, + One little spot where leaves can grow,-- + To love unblamed, to walk unseen, + To dream above, to sleep below! + + _Holmes_. + + + There are in this loud stunning tide, + Of human care and crime, + With whom the melodies abide + Of th' everlasting chime; + + * * * * * + + And to wise hearts this certain hope is given; + "No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven." + + _Keble._ + + +I never knew exactly how the invitation came; I felt very much honored +by it, though I think now, very likely the honor was felt to be upon the +other side. I was exceedingly young, and exceedingly ignorant, not +seventeen, and an orphan, living in the house of an uncle, an unmarried +man of nearly seventy, wholly absorbed in business, and not much more +interested in me than in his clerks and servants. + +I had come under his protection, a little girl of two years old, and had +been in his house ever since. I had had as good care as a very ordinary +class of servants could give me, and was supplied with some one to teach +me, and had as much money to spend as was good for me--perhaps more; and +I do not feel inclined to say my uncle did not do his duty, for I do not +think he knew of anything further to do; and strictly speaking, I had no +claim on him, for I was only a great-niece, and there were those living +who were more nearly related to me, and who were abundantly able to +provide for me, if they had been willing to do it. + +When I came in to the household, its wants were attended to by a cook +and a man-servant, who had lived many years with my uncle. A third +person was employed as my nurse, and a great deal of quarrelling was the +result of her coming. I quite wonder my uncle did not put me away at +board somewhere, rather than be disturbed. But in truth, I do not +believe that the quarrelling disturbed him much, or that he paid much +attention to the matter, and so the matter settled itself. My nurses +were changed very often, by will of the cook and old Peter, and I never +was happy enough to have one who had very high principle, or was more +than ordinarily good-tempered. + +I don't know who selected my teachers; probably they applied for +employment and were received. They were very business-like and +unsuggestive people. I was of no more interest to them than a bale of +goods, I believe. Indeed, I seemed likely to go a bale of goods through +life; everything that was done for me was done for money, and with a +view to the benefit of the person serving me. I was not sent to school, +which was a very great pity; it was owing to the fact, no doubt, that +somebody applied to my uncle to teach me at home, and so the system was +inaugurated, and never received a second thought, and I went on being +taught at home till I was seventeen. + +The "home" was as follows; a large dark house on the unsunny side of a +dull street; furniture that had not been changed for forty years, walls +that were seldom repainted, windows that were rarely opened. The +neighborhood had been for many years unfashionable and undesirable, and, +by the time I was grown up, nobody would have lived in it, who had cared +to have a cheerful home, I might almost have said, a respectable one, I +fancy ours was nearly the only house in the block occupied by its owner; +the others, equally large, were rented for tenement houses, or +boarding-houses, and perhaps for many things worse. It was probably +owing to this fact, that my uncle gave orders, once for all, I was never +to go into the street alone; and I believe, in my whole life, I had +never taken a walk unaccompanied by a servant, or one of my teachers. + +A very dull life indeed. I wonder how I endured it. The rooms were so +dismal, the windows so uneventful. If it had not been for a room in the +garret where I had my playthings, and where the sun came all day long, I +am sure I should have been a much worse and more unhappy child. As I +grew older, I tried to adorn my room (my own respectable sleeping room, +I mean), with engravings, and the little ornaments that I could buy. But +it was a hopeless attempt. The walls were so high and so dingy, the +little pictures were lost upon them; and the vases on the great black +mantel-shelf looked so insignificant, I felt ashamed of them, and owned +the unfitness of decorating such a room. No flowers would grow in those +cold north windows--no bird would sing in sight of such a street. I gave +it up with a sigh; and there was one good instinct lost. + +When I was about eleven, I fell foul of some good books. If it had not +been for them, I truly do not see how I could have known that I was not +to lie or steal, and that God was to be worshipped. Certainly, I had had +hands slapped many times for taking things I had been forbidden to +touch, and had had many a battle in consequence of "telling stories," +with the servants of the house, but I had always recognized the personal +spite of the punishments, and they had not carried with them any +moral lesson. + +I had sometimes gone to church; but the sermons in large city churches +are not generally elementary, and I did not understand those that I +heard at all. Occasionally I went with the nurse to Vespers, and that I +thought delightful. I was enraptured with the pictures, the music, the +rich clothes of the priests; if it had not been for the bad odor of the +neighboring worshippers, I think I might have rushed into the bosom of +the Church of Rome. But that offended sense restrained me. And so, as I +said, if I had not obtained access to some books of holy and pure +influence, and been starved by the dullness of the life around me into +taking hold of them with eagerness, I should have led the life of a +little heathen in the midst of light. Of course the books were not +written for my especial case, nor were they books for children,--and so, +much was supposed, and not expressed, and consequently the truth they +imparted to me was but fragmentary. But it was truth, and the +influence was holy. + +I was driven to books; I do not believe I had any more desire than most +vivid, palpitating, fluttering young things of my sex, to pore over a +dull black and white page; but this black and white gate opened to me +golden fields of happiness, while I was perishing of hunger in a life of +dreary fact. + +When I was about sixteen, however, an outside human influence, not +written in black and white, came into the current of my existence. About +that time, my uncle took into his firm, as junior partner, a young man +who had long been a clerk in the house. After his promotion he often +came home with my uncle to dinner. I think this was done, perhaps, with +a view of civil treatment, on the first occasion; but afterward, it was +continued because my uncle could not bear to leave business when he left +the office, and because he could talk on the matters which were dearer +to him than his dinner, with this junior, in whom he took unqualified +delight. He often wrote letters in the evening, which my uncle dictated, +and he sometimes did not go away till eleven o'clock at night. The first +time he came, I did not notice him very much. It was not unusual for +Uncle Leonard to be accompanied by some gentleman who talked business +with him during dinner; and being naturally shy, and moreover, on this +occasion, in the middle of a very interesting book, at once timid and +indifferent, I slipped away from the table the moment that I could. But +upon the third or fourth occasion of his being there, I became +interested, finding often a pair of handsome eyes fixed on me, and being +occasionally addressed and made a partner in the conversation. Uncle +Leonard very rarely talked to me, and I think found me in the way when +Richard Vandermarck made the talk extend to me. + +But this was the beginning of a very much improved era for me. I lost my +shyness, and my fear of Uncle Leonard, and indeed, I think, my frantic +thirst for books, and became quite a young lady. We were great friends; +he brought me books, he told me about other people, he opened a thousand +doors of interest and pleasure to me. I never can enumerate all I owed +to him. My dull life was changed, and the house owed him gratitude. + +We began to have the gas lighted in the parlor, and even Uncle Leonard +came in there sometimes and sat after dinner, before he went up into +that dreary library above. I think he rather enjoyed hearing us talk +gayly across his sombre board; he certainly became softer and more human +toward me after Richard came to be so constantly a guest. He gave me +more money to spend, (that was always the expression of his feelings, +his language, so to speak;) he made various inquiries and improvements +about the house. The dinners themselves were improved, for a horrible +monotony had crept into the soups and sauces of forty years; and Uncle +Leonard was no epicure; he seemed to have no more stomach than he had +heart; brain and pocket made the man. + +I think unconsciously he was much influenced by Richard, whose business +talent had charmed him, and to whom he looked for much that he knew he +must soon lose. He was glad to make the house seem pleasant to him, and +he was much gratified by his frequent coming. And Richard was peculiarly +a man to like and to lean upon. Not in any way brilliant, and with no +literary tastes, he was well educated enough, and very well informed; a +thorough business man. I think he was ordinarily reserved, but our +intercourse had been so unconventional, that I did not think him so at +all. He was rather good-looking, tall and square-shouldered, with +light-brown hair and fine dark-blue eyes; he had a great many points of +advantage. + +One day, long after he had become almost a member of the household, he +told me he wanted me to know his sister, and that she would come the +next day to see me, if I would like it. I did like it, and waited for +her with impatience. He had told me a great deal about her, and I was +full of curiosity to see her. She was a little older than Richard, and +the only sister; very pretty, and quite a person of consequence in +society. She had made an unfortunate marriage, though of that Richard +said very little to me; but with better luck than attends most +unfortunately-married, women, she was released by her husband's early +death, and was free to be happy again, with some pretty boys, a moderate +fortune, and two brothers to look after her investments, and do her +little errands for her. She considered herself fortunate; and was a +widow of rare discretion, in that she was wedded to her unexpected +independence, and never intended to be wedded to anything or anybody +else. She was naturally cool and calculating, and was in no danger of +being betrayed by her feelings into any other course of life than the +one she had marked out as most expedient. If she was worldly, she was +also useful, intelligent, and popular, and a paragon in her brother's +partial eyes. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +VERY GOOD LUCK. + + Mieux vaut une once de fortune qu'une livre de sagesse. + + +At last (on the day on which Richard had advertised me she was coming,) +the door was opened, and some one was taken to the parlor. Then old +Peter rang a bell which stood on the hall table, and called out to Ann +Coddle (once my nurse, now the seamstress, chambermaid, and general +lightener of his toils), to tell Miss Pauline a lady wanted her. + +This bell was to save his old bones; he never went up-stairs, and he +resented every visitor as an innovation. They were so few, his temper +was not much tried. I was leaning over the stairs when the bell rang, +and did not need a second message. Ann, who continued to feel a care for +my personal appearance, followed me to the landing-place and gave my +sash a last pull. + +When I found myself in the parlor I began to experience a little +embarrassment. Mrs. Hollenbeck was so pretty and her dress was so +dainty, the dingy, stiff, old parlor filled me with dismay. Fortunately, +I did not think much of myself or my own dress. But after a little, she +put me at ease, that is, drew me out and made me feel like talking +to her. + +I admired her very much, but I did not feel any of the affection and +quick cordiality with which Richard had inspired me. I could tell that +she was curious about me, and was watching me attentively, and though +she was so charming that I felt flattered by her interest, I was not +pleased when I remembered my interview with her. + +"You are not at all like your brother," I said, glancing in her face +with frankness. + +"No?" she said smilingly, and looking attentively at me with an +expression which I did not understand. + +And then she drew me on to speak of all his features, which I did with +the utmost candor, showing great knowledge of the subject. + +"And you," she said, "you do not look at all as I supposed. You are not +nearly so young--Richard told me you were quite a child. I was not +prepared for this grace; this young ladyhood--'cette taille de +palmier,'" she added, with a little sweep of the hand. + +Somehow I was not pleased to feel that Richard had talked of me to her, +though I liked it that he had talked of her to me. No doubt she saw it, +for I was lamentably transparent. "Do you lead a quiet life, or have you +many friends?" she said, as if she did not know exactly the kind of +life I led, and as if she had not come for the express purpose of +helping me out of it, at the instance of her kindly brother. Then, of +course, I told her all about my dull days, and she pitied me, and said +lightly it must not be, and I must see more of the world, and she, for +her part, must know me better, etc., etc. And then she went away. + +In a few days, I went with Ann Coddle, in a carriage, to return the +visit. The house was small, but in a beautiful, bright street, and the +one window near the door was full of ferns and ivies. I did not get in, +which was a disappointment to me, particularly as I had no printed card, +and realized keenly all the ignominy of leaving one in writing. This was +in April, and I saw no more of my new friend. Richard was away, on some +business of the firm, and the days were very dull indeed. + +In May he came back, and resumed the dinners, and the evenings in the +parlor, though not quite with the frequency of the past winter,--and I +think there was the least shade of constraint in his manner. It was on +one of these May days that he came and took me to the Park. It was a +great occasion; I had never been so happy before in my life. I was in +great doubt about taking Ann Coddle; never having been out of the house +without a person of that description in attendance before. But Ann got +a suspicion of my doubt and settled it, to go--of course. I think +Richard was rather chagrined when she followed us out to get into the +carriage; she was so dried-up and shrewish-looking, and wore such an +Irish bonnet. But she preserved a discreet silence, and looked +steadfastly out of the carriage window, so we soon forgot that she was +there, though she was directly opposite to us. It was Saturday; the day +was fresh and lovely, and there were crowds of people driving in the +Park. Once we left the carriage with Ann Coddle in it, and went to hear +the music. It was while we were sitting for a few moments under the +vines to listen to it, and watch the gay groups of people around us, +that a carriage passed within a dozen feet, and a lady leaned out and +bowed with smiles. + +"Why, see--it is your sister!" I exclaimed, with the vivacity of a +person of a very limited acquaintance. + +"Ah," he said, and raised his hat carelessly. But I saw he was not +pleased; he pushed the end of his moustache into his mouth, and bit it, +as he always did when out of humor, and very soon proposed we should go +back and find the carriage. It was not long, however, before he +recovered from this annoyance, as he had from the unexpected pleasure of +Ann's company; and, I am sure, was as sorry as I when it was time to go +home to dinner. + +He stayed and dined with us; another gentleman had come home with my +uncle, who talked well and amused us very much. I was excited and in +high spirits; altogether, it was a very happy day. + +It was more than a week after this, that the invitation came which +turned the world upside down at once, and made me most extravagantly +happy. It was from Mrs. Hollenbeck, and I was asked to spend part of +June and all of July and August, with them at R----. + +At R---- was their old family home, a place of very little pretension, +but to which they were much attached. When the father died, five years +before, the two sons had bought the place, or rather had taken it as +their share, turning over the more productive property to their sister. + +They had been very reluctant to close the house, and it was decided that +Sophie should go there every summer, and take her servants from the +city; the expenses of the place being borne by the two young men. They +were very well able to do it, as both were successful in business, and +keeping open the old home, with no diminution of the hospitality of +their father's time, was perhaps the greatest pleasure that they had. +It was an arrangement which suited Sophie admirably. It gave her the +opportunity to entertain pleasantly and informally; it was a capital +summer-home for her two boys; it was in the centre of an agreeable +neighborhood; and above all, it gave her yearly-exhausted purse time to +recuperate and swell again before the winter's drain. Of course she +loved the place, too, but not with the simple affection that her two +brothers did. The young men invited their friends there without +restriction, as was to be supposed; and Sophie was a gay and agreeable +hostess. No one could have made the house pleasanter than she did; and +she left nothing undone to gratify her brothers' tastes and wishes, like +a wise and prudent woman as she was. + +I did not know all this then, or my invitation might not have +overwhelmed me with such gratitude to her. I reproached myself for not +having loved her the first time I saw her. + +Three months! Three happy months in the country! I could hardly believe +it possible such a thing had happened to me. I took the note to my uncle +without much fear of his opposition, for he rarely opposed anything that +I had the courage to ask him, except going in the street alone. (I +believe my mother had made a runaway match, and I think he had faith in +inherited traits; his one resolution regarding me must have been, not to +give me a chance.) He read the note carefully, and then looked me over +with more interest than usual, and told me I might go. Afterward he gave +me a roll of bills, and told me to come to him for more money, if I +needed it. + +I was much excited about my clothes. I could not think that anything was +good enough to go to R----; and I am afraid I spent a good deal of my +uncle's money. Ann Coddle and the cook thought that my dresses were +magnificent, and old Peter groaned over the coming of the packages. I +had indeed a wardrobe fit for a young princess, and in very good taste +besides, because I was born with that. An inheritance, no doubt. And my +uncle never complained at all about the bills. I seemed to have become, +in some way, a person of considerable importance in the house. Ann +Coddle no more fretted at me, but waited on me with alacrity. The cook +ceased to bully me, and on the contrary, flattered me outrageously. I +remembered the long years of bullying, and put no faith in her +assurances. I did not know exactly why this change had happened, but +supposed it might be the result of having become a young lady, and being +invited to pay visits. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +KILIAN. + + You are well made--have common sense, + And do not want for impudence. + _Faust_. + + _Tanto buen die val niente. + + Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire_. + + +The packages finally ceased coming and the stiff old bell from being +pulled; but only half an hour before the carriage drove to the door that +was to take me to the boat. Ann Coddle was flying up and down the +stairs, and calling messages over to Peter in a shrill voice. She was +not designed by nature for a lady's maid, and was a very disagreeable +person to have about one's room. She made me even more nervous than I +should otherwise have been. I had never packed a trunk before, or had +one packed, and might have thought it a very simple piece of business if +Ann had not made such a mountain of it; packing every tray half a dozen +times over, and going down-stairs three times about every article that +was to come up from the laundry. + +Happily she was not to go with me any farther than the boat. Richard +was away again on business--had been gone, indeed, since the day after +we had driven in the Park: so I was to be put on board the boat, and +left in charge of Kilian, his younger brother, who had called at my +uncle's office, and made the arrangement with him. I had never seen +Kilian, and the meeting filled me with apprehension; my uncle, however, +sent up one of his clerks in the carriage to take me to the boat, and +put me in charge of this young gentleman. This considerate action on the +part of my uncle seemed to fill up the measure of my surprises. + +When we reached the boat, the clerk, a respectful youth, conducted me to +the upper deck, and then left me with Ann, while he went down about +the baggage. + +With all our precautions, we were rather late, for the last bell was +ringing; Ann was in a fever of impatience, and I was quite uncertain +what to do, the clerk not having returned, and Mr. Kilian Vandermarck +not having yet appeared. Ann was so disagreeable, and so disturbing to +all thinking, that I had more than once to tell her to be quiet. Matters +seemed to have reached a crisis. The man at the gangway was shouting +"all aboard;" the whistle was blowing; the bell was ringing; Ann was +whimpering; when a belated-looking young man with a book and paper under +his arm came up the stairs hurriedly and looked around with anxiety. As +soon as his eye fell on us, he looked relieved, and walked directly up +to me, and called me by name, interrogatively. + +"O yes," I said eagerly, "but do get this woman off the boat or we'll +have to take her with us." "Oh, no danger," he said, "plenty of time," +and he took her toward the stairs, at the head of which she was met by +the clerk, who touched his hat to me, handed the checks to Mr. +Vandermarck, then hurried off with Ann. Mr. Vandermarck returned to me, +but I was so engrossed looking over the side of the boat and watching +for Ann and the clerk, that I took no notice of him. + +At last I saw Ann scramble on the wharf, just before the plank was drawn +in; with a sigh of relief I turned away. + +"I want to apologize for being so late," he said. + +"Why, it is not any matter," I answered, "only I had not the least idea +what to do." + +"You are not used to travelling alone, then, I suppose?" + +"Oh no," nor to travelling any way, for the matter of that, I added to +myself; but not aloud, for I had a great fear that it should be known +how very limited my experience was. + +"You must let me take your shawl and bag, and we will go and get a +comfortable seat," he said in a few moments. We went forward and found +comfortable chairs under an awning, and where there was a fine breeze. +It was a warm afternoon, and the change from the heated and glaring +wharf was delightful. Mr. Vandermarck threw himself back in his chair +with an expression of relief, and took off his straw hat. + +"If you had been in Wall-street since ten o'clock this morning you would +be prepared to enjoy this sail," he said. + +"Is Wall-street so very much more disagreeable than other places? I +think my uncle regrets every moment that he spends away from it." + +"Ah, yes. Mr. Greer may; he has a good deal to make him like it; if I +made as much money as he does every day there, I think it's possible I +might like it too. But it is a different matter with a poor devil like +me: if I get off without being cheated out of all I've got, it is as +much as I can ask." + +"Well, perhaps when he was your age, Uncle Leonard did not ask more than +that." + +"Not he; he began, long before he was as old as I am, to do what I can +never learn to do, Miss d'Esirée--make money with one hand and save it +with the other. Now, I'm ashamed to say, a great deal of money comes +into my pockets, but it never stays there long enough to give me the +feeling that I'm a rich man. One gets into a way of living that's +destruction to all chances of a fortune." + +"But what's the good of a fortune if you don't enjoy it?" I said, +thinking of the dreary house in Varick-street. + +"No good," he said. "It isn't in my nature to be satisfied with the +knowledge that I've got enough to make me happy locked up somewhere in a +safe: I must get it out, and strew it around in sight in the shape of +horses, pictures, nice rooms, and good things to eat, before I can make +up my mind that the money is good for anything. Now as to Richard, he is +just the other way: old head on young shoulders, old pockets in young +breeches (only there ar'nt any holes in them). He's a model of prudence, +is my brother Richard. _Qui garde son diner, il a mieux à souper_. He'll +be a rich man one of these fine days. I look to him to keep me out of +jail. You know Richard very well, I believe?" he said, turning a sudden +look on me, which would have been very disconcerting to an older person, +or one more acquainted with the world. + +"O, very well indeed," I said with great simplicity. "You know he is +such a favorite with my uncle, and he is a great deal at the house." + +"Well he may be a favorite, for he is built exactly on his model; at +seventy, if I am not hung for debt before I reach it, I shall look to +see him just a second Mr. Leonard Greer." + +I made a gesture of dissent. "I don't think he is in the least like +Uncle Leonard, and I don't think he cares at all for money." + +"O, Miss Pauline, don't you believe him if he says he doesn't. I'm his +younger brother, whom he has lectured and been hard on for these +twenty-seven years, and I know more about it than anybody else." + +"Why, is Mr. Richard Vandermarck twenty-seven years old?" I said with +much surprise. + +"Twenty-nine his next birthday, and I am twenty-seven. Why, did he pass +himself off for younger? That's an excellent thing against him." + +"No; he did not pass himself off for anything in the matter of age. It +was only my idea about him. I thought he was not more than twenty-five, +perhaps even younger than that. But then I had nobody but Uncle Leonard +to compare him with, and it isn't strange that I didn't get +quite right." + +"It _is_ something of a step from Mr. Greer to Richard, I must say. Mr. +Greer seems so much the oldest man in the world, and Richard--well, +Richard isn't that, but he is a good deal older than he ought to be. +But do you tell me, Miss Pauline, you havn't any younger fellows than +Richard on your cards? Do they keep you as quiet as all that in +Varick-street?" + +I knew by intuition this was impertinence, and no doubt I looked +annoyed, and Mr. Vandermarck hastened to obliterate the impression by a +very rapid movement upon the scenery, the beauties of the river, and +many things as novel. + +The three hours of our sail passed away pleasantly. Mr. Vandermarck did +not move from his seat; did not even read his paper, though I gave him +an opportunity by turning over the leaves of my "Littel" on the +occurrence of every pause. + +I felt that I knew him quite well before the journey was over, and I +liked him exceedingly, almost as well as Richard. He was rather +handsomer than Richard, not so tall, but more vivacious and more +amusing, much more so. I began to think Richard rather dull when I +contrasted him with his brother. + +When we reached the wharf, Mr. Vandermarck, after disposing of the +baggage, gave his arm to me, and took me to an open wagon which was +waiting for us. He put me in the seat beside him, and took the reins +with a look of pleasure. + +"These are Tom and Jerry, Miss Pauline," he said, "about the +pleasantest members of the family; at least they contribute more to my +pleasure than any other members of it. I squandered about half my income +on them a year or two ago, and have not repented yet; though, indeed, +repentance isn't in my way. I shall hope for the happiness of giving you +many drives with them, if I am permitted." + +"Nothing could make me happier, I am sure." + +"Richard hasn't any horses, though he can afford it much better than I +can. He does his driving, when he is here, with the carriage-horses that +we keep for Sophie--a dull old pair of brutes. He disapproves very much +of Tom and Jerry; but you see it would never do to have two such wise +heads in one family." + +"It would destroy the balance of power in the neighborhood." + +"Decidedly; as it is, we are a first-class power, owing to Sophie's +cleverness and Richard's prudence; my prodigality is just needed to keep +us from overrunning the county and proclaiming an empire at the next +town meeting. How do you like Sophie, Miss d'Estrée? I know you haven't +seen much of her--but what you have? Isn't she clever, and isn't she a +pretty woman to be nearly thirty-five?" + +I was feeling very grateful for my invitation, and so I said a great +deal of my admiration for his sister. + +"Everybody likes her," he said, complacently. "I don't know a more +popular person anywhere. She is the life of the neighborhood; people +come to her for everything, if they want to get a new door-mat for the +school-house, or if they want a new man nominated for the legislature. I +think she's awfully bored, sometimes, but she keeps it to herself. But +though the summer is her rest, she always does enough to tire out +anybody else. Now, for instance, she is going to have three young ladies +with her for the next two months (besides yourself, Miss d'Estrée), whom +she will have to be amusing all the time, and some friends of mine who +will turn the house inside out. But Sophie never grumbles." + +"Tell me about them all," I said, consuming with a fever of curiosity. + +"O, I forgot you did not know them. Shall I begin with the young +ladies?--(Sam, there's a stone in Jerry's off fore-foot; get down and +look about it--Steady!--there, I knew it)--Excuse me, Miss d'Estrée. +Well,--the young ladies. There's one of our cousins, a grand, handsome, +sombre, estimable girl, whom nobody ever flirts with, but whom somebody +will marry. That's Henrietta Palmer. Then there is Charlotte +Benson--not pretty, but stylish and so clever. She carries too many guns +for most men; she is a capital girl in her way. Then there is Mary +Leighton; she is small, blonde, lovely. I do not believe in her +particularly, but we are great friends, and flirt a little, I am told. I +quite wonder how you will like each other. I hope you will tell me your +impressions. No doubt she will be rather your companion, for Henrietta +and Charlotte Benson are desperately intimate, and have a room together. +They are quite romantic and very superior. Pretty Miss Leighton isn't in +their line exactly, and is rather left to her own reflections, I should +think. But she makes up for it when the gentlemen appear; she isn't left +with any time upon her hands, you may be sure. I don't know what it is +about her; she never said a bright thing in her life, and a great, great +many silly ones; but everybody wants to talk to her, and her silly words +are precious to the man to whom she says them. Did you ever meet anybody +like her?" + +"I? oh no. I never met anybody," I said, half-bitterly, beginning to be +afraid of the people whom I so soon should meet; and then I began to +talk about the road, and to inquire how far we had yet to drive, and to +ask to have a shawl about my shoulders. It was not yet seven o'clock, +but the country air was fresh and cool, and the rapid driving made +it cooler. + +"We are almost there; and I hope, Miss d'Estrée, that you won't feel as +if you were going among strangers. You will not feel so long, at any +rate. It is too bad Richard isn't here; you know him so much better than +the rest of us. But before he comes back, I am sure you will feel as +much at home as he. But here's the gate." + +There was a drive of perhaps an eighth of a mile from the gate to the +house: the trees and hedge were thick, so that one saw little of the +house from the road. The grounds were well kept; there was a nice lawn, +in front of the house, and some very fine old trees. The house was low +and irregular, but quite picturesque. It fronted the road; the rear +looked toward the river, about quarter of a mile distant, and of which +the view was lovely. + +There was a piazza in front, on which four ladies stood; one of them +came forward, and came down the steps, and met me as I got out of the +carriage. That, of course, was Mrs. Hollenbeck, She welcomed me very +cordially, and led me up the steps of the piazza, where the young ladies +stood. Terrible young ladies! I shook with fear of them. I felt as if I +did not know anything, as if I did not look well, as if my clothes were +hideous. I should not have been afraid of young or old men, nor of old +women; but they were just my age, just my class, just my equals, or +ought to have been, if I had had any other fate than Uncle Leonard and +Varick-street. How they would criticize me! How soon they would find out +I had never been anywhere before! I wished for Richard then with all my +heart. Kilian had already deserted me, and was talking to Miss Leighton, +who had come half-way down the steps to meet him, and who only gave me a +glance and a very pretty smile and nod, when Mrs. Hollenbeck presented +me to them. Miss Benson and Miss Palmer each gave me a hand, and looked +me over horribly; and the tones of their voices, when they spoke to me, +were so constrained and cold, and so different from the tones in which +they addressed each other. I hated them. + +After a few moments of wretchedness, Sophie proposed to take me to my +room. We went up the stairs, which were steep and old-fashioned, with a +landing-place almost like a little room. My room was in a wing of the +house, over the dining-room, and the windows looked out on the river. It +was not large, but was very pretty. The windows were curtained, and the +bed was dainty, and the little mantel was draped, and the ornaments and +pictures were quaint and delightful to my taste. + +Sophie laid the shawls she had been carrying up for me upon the bed, +and said she hoped I would find everything I needed, and would try to +feel entirely at home, and not hesitate to ask for anything that would +make me comfortable. + +Nothing could be kinder, but my affection and gratitude were fast dying +out, and I was quite sure of one thing, namely, that I never should love +Sophie if she spent her life in inviting me to pay her visits. She told +me that tea would be ready in half an hour, and then left me. I sat down +on the bed when she was gone, and wished myself back in Varick-street; +and then cried, to think that I should be homesick for such a dreary +home. But the appetites and affections common to humanity had not been +left out of my heart, though I had been beggared all my life in regard +to most of them. I could have loved a mother so--a sister--I could have +had such happy feelings for a place that I could have felt was home. +What matter, if I could not even remember the smile on my mother's lips; +what matter, if no brother or sister had ever been born to me; if no +house had ever been my rightful home? I was hungry for them all the +same. And these first glimpses of the happy lives of others seemed to +disaffect me more than ever with my own. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MY COMPANIONS. + + "Vous êtes belle: ainsi donc la moitié + Du genre humain sera votre ennemie." + + _Voltaire_. + + "Oh, I think the cause + Of much was, they forgot no crowd + Makes up for parents in their shroud." + + _R. Browning_. + + +The servant came to call me down to tea while I was still sitting with +my face in my hands upon the bed. I started up, lit the candles on the +dressing-table, arranged my hair, washed the tears off my face, and +hurried down the stairs. They were waiting for me in the parlor, and no +doubt were quite impatient, as they had already waited for the arrival +of the evening train, and it was nearly eight o'clock. The evening train +had brought Mr. Eugene Whitney, of whom I can only say, that he was a +very insignificant young man indeed. We all moved into the dining-room; +the others took the seats they were accustomed to. Mr. Whitney and I, +being the only new-comers, were advised which seats belonged to us by a +trim young maid-servant, and I, for one, was very glad to get into mine. +Mr. Whitney was my neighbor on one hand, the youngest of the Hollenbeck +boys on the other. These were our seats: + + Kilian, + +Miss Leighton, Miss Henrietta Palmer, + +Miss Benson, Mr. Eugene Whitney, + +Tutor, Myself, + +Boy, Boy, + + Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +The seat opposite me was not filled when we sat down. + +"Where is Mr. Langenau, Charley?" said his mother. + +"I'm sure I don't know, mamma," said Charley, applying himself to +marmalade. + +"Charley doesn't see much of his tutor out of hours, I think," said Miss +Benson. + +"A good deal too much of him in 'em," murmured Charley, between a +spoonful of marmalade and a drink of milk. + +"Benny's the boy that loves his book," said Kilian; "he's the joy of his +tutor's heart, I know," at which there was a general laugh, and Benny, +the younger, looked up with a merry smile. + +The Hollenbeck boys were not fond of study. They were healthy and +pretty; quite the reverse of intellectual; very fair and rosy, without +much resemblance to their mother or her brothers. It was evident the +acquisition of knowledge was far from being the principal pursuit of +their lives, and the tutor was looked upon as the natural enemy of +Charley, at the least. + +"I don't see what you ever got him for, mamma," said Charley. "I'd study +just as much without him." + +"And that wouldn't be pledging yourself to very much, would it, Charley +dear?" + +"Wish he was back in Germany with his ugly books," cried Charley. + +But--hush!--there was a sudden lull, as the tutor entered and took his +place by Charley. He was a well-made man, evidently about thirty. He was +so decidedly a gentleman, in manners and appearance, that even these +spoiled boys treated him respectfully, and the young ladies and +gentlemen at the table were more stiff than offensive in their manner. +But he was so evidently not one of them! + +It is very disagreeable to be among people who know each other very +well, even if they try to know you very well and admit you to their +friendship. But I had no assurance that any one was trying to do this +for _me_, and I am afraid I showed very little inclination to be +admitted to their friendship. I could not talk, and I did not want to be +talked to. I was even afraid of the little boys, and thought all the +time that Charley was watching me and making signs about me to his +brother, when in reality he was only telegraphing about the marmalade. + +In the meantime, without any attention to my feelings, the business of +the tea-table proceeded. Mrs. Hollenbeck poured out tea, and kept the +little boys under a moderate control. Kilian cut up some birds before +him, and tried to persuade the young ladies to eat some, but nobody had +appetite enough but Mr. Whitney and himself. Charlotte Benson, who was +clever and efficient and exceedingly at home, cut up a cake that was +before her, and gave the boys some strawberries, and offered some to me. +Miss Palmer simply looked very handsome, and eat a biscuit or two, and +tried to talk to Mr. Whitney, who seemed to have a good appetite and +very little conversation. Miss Leighton gave herself up to attentions to +Kilian; she was saying silly little things to him in a little low tone +all the time, and offering him different articles before her, and +advising him what he ought to eat; all of which seemed most interesting +and important in dumb-show till you heard what it was all about, and +then you felt ashamed of them. At times, I think, Kilian felt somewhat +ashamed too, and tried to talk a little to the others; but most of the +time he seemed to like it very well, and did not ask anything better +than the excellent woodcock on his plate, and the pretty young woman +by his side. + +"By the way," said Sophie, when the meal was nearly over, "I had a +letter from Richard to-day." + +"Ah!" said Kilian, with a momentary release from his admirer. "And when +is he coming home?" + +I looked up with quick interest, and met Mrs. Hollenbeck's eyes, which +seemed to be always on me. Then I turned mine down the table +uncomfortably, and found Charlotte Benson looking at me too. I did not +know what I had done to be looked at, but wished they would look at +themselves and let me take my tea (or leave it alone) in peace. + +"Not for two weeks yet," said his sister; "not for two whole weeks." + +"How sorry I am," said Charlotte Benson. + +"I think we are all sorry," said Henrietta the tranquil. + +"Miss d'Estrée confided to me that she'd be glad to see him," said +Kilian, cutting up another woodcock and looking at his plate. + +"Indeed I shall," I said, with, a little sigh, not thinking so much +about them as feeling most earnestly what a difference his coming would +make, and how sure I should be of having at least one friend when he +got here. + +"He seems to be having a delightful time," said his sister. + +"I am glad to hear that," I said, interested. "Generally he finds it +such a bore. He doesn't seem to like to travel." I was rather startled +at the sound of my own voice and the attention of my audience; but I had +been betrayed into speaking, by my interest in the subject, and my +surprise at hearing he was having such a pleasant time. + +"Ah!" she said, "don't you think he does? At any rate, he seems to be +enjoying this journey, and to be in no hurry to come back. I looked for +him last week." + +Warned by my last experience, I said nothing in answer; and after a +moment Kilian said: + +"Well, if Richard's having a good time, you may be sure he's made some +favorable negotiation, and comes home with good news for the firm. +That's his idea of a good time, you know." + +"Ah!" said Sophie, gently, "that's his brother's idea of his idea. It +isn't mine." + +Charlotte Benson seemed a little nettled at this, and exclaimed, + +"Mrs. Hollenbeck! you are making us all unhappy. You are leading us to +suspect that the stern man of business is unbending. What's the +influence at work? What makes this journey different from other +journeys? Where does he tarry, oh, where?" + +"Nonsense!" said Sophie, with a little laugh. "You cannot say I have +implied anything of the sort. Cannot Richard enjoy a journey without +your censure or suspicion? You must be careful; he does not +fancy teasing." + +"O, I shall not accuse him, you may be sure; that is, if he ever comes. +Do you believe he really ever will?" + +"Not if he thinks you want him," said Kilian, amiably. "He has a great +aversion to being made much of." + +"Yes, a family trait," interrupted Charlotte, at which everybody +laughed, no one more cordially than Miss Leighton. + +"Leave off laughing at my Uncle Richard," said Benny, stoutly, with his +cheeks quite flushed. + +"We have, dear, and are laughing at your Uncle Kilian. You don't object +to that, I'm sure," and Charlotte Benson leaned forward and threw him a +little kiss past the tutor, who wore a silent, abstracted look, in odd +contrast with the animated expressions of the faces all around him. + +Benny did not like the joke at all, and got down from his chair and +walked away without permission. We all followed him, going into the +hall, and from thence to the piazza, as the night was fine. The tutor +walked silently through the group in the hall to a seat where lay his +book and hat, then passed through the doorway and disappeared +from sight. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE TUTOR. + + And now above them pours a wondrous voice, + (Such as Greek reapers heard in Sicily), + With wounding rapture in it, like love's arrows. + + _George Eliot_. + + +The next day, the first of my visit, was a very sultry one, and the rest +of the party thought it was, no doubt, a very dull one. + +Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney went away in the early train, not to +return, alas, till the evening of the following day. Miss Leighton was +languid, and yawned incessantly, though she tried to appear interested +in things, and was very attentive to me. Charlotte Benson and Henrietta +laid strong-minded plans for the day, and carried them out faithfully. +First, they played a game of croquet, under umbrellas, for the sun was +blazing on the ground: that was for exercise; then, for mental +discipline, they read history for an hour in the library; and then, for +relaxation, under veils and sunhats, read Ruskin for two hours by +the river. + +I cannot think Henrietta understood Ruskin, but I have no doubt she +thought she did, and tried to share in her friend's enthusiasm. Sophie +had a little headache, and spent much of the morning in her room. The +boys were away with their tutor in the farm-house where they had their +school-room, and the house seemed deserted and delightful. I wandered +about at ease, chose my book, and sat for hours in the boat-house by the +river, not reading Ruskin, nor even my poor little novel, but gazing and +dreaming and wondering. It can be imagined what the country seemed to +me, in beautiful summer weather, after the dreary years I had spent in a +city-street. + +It is quite impossible to describe all that seemed starting into life +within me, all at once--- so many new forces, so much new life. + +My home-sickness had passed away, and I was inclined to be very happy, +particularly in the liberty that seemed to promise. Dinner was very +quiet, and every one seemed dull, even Charlotte Benson, who ordinarily +had life enough for all. The boys were there, but their tutor had gone +away on a long walk and would not be back till evening. "_A la bonne +heure_," cried Madame, with a little yawn; "freedom of the halls, and +deshabille, for one afternoon." + +So we spent the afternoon with our doors open, and with books, or +without books, on the bed. + +Nobody came into my room, except Mrs. Hollenbeck for a few moments, +looking very pretty in a white peignoir, and rather sleepy at the same +time; hoping I was comfortable and had found something to amuse me in +the library. + +It seemed to be thought a great bore to dress, to judge from the +exclamations of ennui which I heard in the hall, as six o'clock +approached, and the young ladies wandered into each other's room and +bewailed the necessity. I think Miss Leighton would have been very glad +to have stayed on the bed, and tried to sleep away the hours that +presented no amusement; but Charlotte Benson laughed at her so cruelly, +that she began to dress at once, and said, she had not intended what she +said, of course. + +I was the first to be ready, and went down to the piazza. The heat of +the day was over and there was a soft, pleasant breeze. We were to have +tea at seven o'clock, and while I sat there, the bell rang. The tutor +came in from under the trees where he had been reading, looking rather +pale after his long walk. + +He bowed slightly as he passed me, and waited at the other end of the +piazza, reading as he stood, till the others came down to the +dining-room. As we were seating ourselves he came in and took his place, +with a bow to me and the others. Mrs. Hollenbeck asked him a little +about his expedition, and paid him a little more attention than usual, +being the only man. + +He had a most fortunate way of saying just the right thing and then +being silent; never speaking unless addressed, and then conveying +exactly the impression he desired. I think he must have appeared in a +more interesting light that usual at this meal, for as we went out from +the dining room Mary Leighton put her arm through mine and whispered +"Poor fellow! How lonely he must be! Let's ask him to go and walk with +us this evening." + +Before I could remonstrate or detach myself from her, she had twisted +herself about, in a peculiarly supple and child-like manner that she +had, and had made the suggestion to him. + +He was immeasurably surprised, no doubt, but he gave no sign of it. +After a silence of two or three instants, during which, I think, he was +occupied in trying to find a way to decline, he assented very sedately. + +Charlotte Benson and her friend, who were behind us, were enraged at +this proceeding. During the week they had all been in the house +together, they had never gone beyond speaking terms with the tutor, and +this they had agreed was the best way to keep things, and it seemed to +be his wish no less than theirs. Here was this saucy girl, in want of +amusement, upsetting all their plans. They shortly declined to go to +walk with us: and so Mary Leighton, Mr. Langenau, and I started alone +toward the river. + +It must be confessed, Miss Leighton was not rewarded for her effort, for +a stiffer and more uncomfortable companion could not be imagined. He +entirely declined to respond to her coquetry, and she very soon found +she must abandon this role; but she was nothing if not coquettish, and +the conversation flagged uncomfortably. Before we reached home she was +quite impatient, and ran up the steps, when we got there, as if it were +a great relief. The tutor raised his hat when he left us at the door, +turned back, and disappeared for the rest of the evening. + +The next morning, coming down-stairs half an hour before breakfast, I +went into the library (a little room at the right of the front door), +for a book I had left there. I threw myself into an easy-chair, and +opened it, when I caught sight of the tutor, reading at the window. I +half started to my feet, and then sank back again in confusion; for what +was there to go away for? + +He rose and bowed, and resumed his seat and his book. + +The room was quite small, and we were very near each other. How I could +possibly have missed seeing him as I entered, now surprised me. I longed +to go away, but did not dare do anything that would seem rude. He +appeared very much engrossed with his book, but I, for my part, could +not read a word, and was only thinking how I could get away. Possibly he +guessed at my embarrassment, for after about ten minutes he arose, and +coming up to the table by which I sat, he took up a card, and placed it +in his book for a mark, and shut it up, then made some remark to me +about the day. + +The color was coming and going in my face. + +He must have felt sorry or curious, for he did not go directly away, and +continued to talk of things that did not require me to answer him. + +I do not know what it was about his voice that was so different from the +ordinary voices of people. There was a quality in it that I had never +heard in any other. But perhaps it was in the ear that listened, as well +as the voice that spoke. And apart from the tones, the words I never +could forget. The most trivial things that he ever said to me, I can +remember to this day. + +I believe that this was not of my imagination, but that others felt it +in some degree as I did. It was this that made him such an invaluable +teacher; he impressed upon those flesh-and-blood boys, in that one +summer, more than they would have learned in whole years from ordinary +persons. It was not very strange, then, that I was smitten with the +strangest interest in all he said and did, and that his words made the +deepest impression on me. + +No doubt it is pleasant to be listened to by one whose face tells you +you are understood; and the tutor was not in a hurry to go away. He had +got up from the window, I know, with the intention of going out of the +room, but he continued standing, looking down at me and talking, for +half an hour at least. + +The soft morning wind came in at the open door and window, with a scent +of rose and honeysuckle: the pretty little room was full of the early +sunshine in which there is no glare: I can see it all now, and I can +hear, as ever, his low voice. + +He talked of the book I held in my hand, of the views on the river, of +the pleasantness of country life. I fancy I did not say much, though I +never am able to remember what I said when talking to him. Whatever I +said was a mere involuntary accord with him. I never recollect to have +felt that I did not agree with and admire every word he uttered. + +How different his manner from last night when he had talked with Mary +Leighton; all the stiffness, the half-concealed repelling tone was +gone. I had not heard him speak to any one, except perhaps once to +Benny, as he spoke now. I was quite sure that he liked me, and that he +did not class me with the others in the house. But when the +breakfast-bell rang, he gave a slight start, and his voice changed; and +such a frown came over his face! He looked at his watch, said something +about the hour, and quickly left the room. I bent my head over my book +and sat still, till I heard them all come down and go into the +breakfast-room. I trusted they would not know he had been talking to me, +and there was little danger, unless they guessed it from my cheeks being +so aflame. + +At breakfast he was more silent than ever, and his brow had not quite +got over that sudden frown. At dinner he was away again, as the +day before. + +The day passed much as yesterday had done. About four o'clock there came +a telegram from Kilian to his sister. He had been delayed, and Mr. +Whitney would wait for him, and they would come the next evening by the +boat. I think Mary Leighton could have cried if she had not been +ashamed. Her pretty blue organdie was on the bed ready to put on. It +went back into the wardrobe very quickly, and she came down to tea in a +gray barége that was a little shabby. + +A rain had come on about six o'clock. At tea the candles were lit, and +the windows closed. Every one looked moped and dull; the evening +promised to be insufferable. Mrs. Hollenbeck saw the necessity of +rousing herself and providing us some amusement. When Mr. Langenau +entered, she met his bow with one of her best smiles: how the change +must have struck him; for she had been very mechanical and polite to him +before. Now she spoke to him with the charming manner that brought every +one to her feet. + +And what was the cause of this sudden kindness? It is very easy for me +to see now, though then I had not a suspicion. Alas! I am afraid that +the cheeks aflame at breakfast-time were the immediate cause of the +change. Mrs. Hollenbeck would not have made so marked a movement for an +evening's entertainment: it seemed to suit her very well that I should +talk to the tutor in the library before breakfast, and she meant to give +me opportunities for talking to him in the parlor too. + +"A dreary evening, is it not?" she began. "What shall we all do? +Charlotte, can't you think of something?" + +Charlotte, who had her own plans for a quiet evening by the lamp with a +new book, of course could not think of anything. + +"Henrietta, at least you shall give us some music, and Mr. Langenau, I +am sure you will be good enough to help us; I will send over to the +school-room for that flute and those piles of music that I've seen upon +a shelf, and you will be charitable enough to play for us." + +"I must beg you will not take that trouble." + +"Oh, Mr. Langenau, that is selfish now." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck did not press the subject then, but made herself +thoroughly delightful during tea, and as we rose from the table renewed +the request in a low tone to Mr. Langenau: and the result was, a little +after eight o'clock he came into the parlor where we sat. A place was +made for him at the table around which we were sitting, and Mrs. +Hollenbeck began the process of putting him at his ease. There was no +need. The tutor was quite as much at ease as any one, and, in a little +while, imperceptibly became the person to whom we were all listening. + +Charlotte Benson at last gave up her book, and took her work-box +instead. We were no longer moping and dull around the table. And bye and +bye Henrietta, much alarmed, was sent to the piano, and her poor little +music certainly sounded very meagre when Mr. Langenau touched the keys. + +I think he consented to play not to appear rude, but with the firm +intention of not being the instrument of our entertainment, and not +being made use of out of his own accepted calling. But happily for us, +he soon forgot all about us, and played on, absorbed in himself and in +his music. We listened breathlessly, the others quite as much engrossed +as I, because they all knew much more of music than I did. Suddenly, +after playing for a long while, he started from the piano, and came back +to the table. He was evidently agitated. Before the others could say a +word of thanks or wonder, I cried, in a fear of the cessation of what +gave me such intense pleasure, + +"Oh, sing something; can't you sing?" + +"Yes, I can sing," he said, looking down at me with those dangerous +eyes. "Will it give you pleasure if I sing for you?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned back to the piano. + +He had said "if I sing for you," and I knew that for me he was singing. +I do not know what it was for others, but for me, it was the only true +music that I had ever heard, the only music that I could have begged +might never cease, but flood over all the present and the future, +satisfying every sense. Other voices had roused and thrilled, this +filled me. I asked no more, and could have died with that sound in +my ears. + +"Why, Pauline! child! what is it?" cried Mrs. Hollenbeck, as the music +ceased and Mr. Langenau. again came back to the circle round the table. +Every one looked: I was choking with sobs. + +"Oh, don't, I don't want you to speak to me," I cried, putting away her +hand and darting from the room. I was not ashamed of myself, even when I +was alone in my room. The powerful magic lasted still, through the +silence and darkness, till I was aroused by the voices of the others +coming up to bed. + +Mrs. Hollenbeck knocked at my door with her bedroom candle in her hand, +and, as she stood talking to me, the others strayed in to join her and +to satisfy their curiosity. + +"You are very sensitive to music, are you not?" said Charlotte Benson, +contemplatively. She had tried me on Mompssen, and the "Seven Lamps," +and found me wanting, and now perhaps hoped to find some other point +less faulty. + +"I do not know," I said, honestly. "I seem to have been very sensitive +to-night." + +"But you are not always?" asked Henrietta Palmer. "You do not always cry +when people sing?" + +"Why, no," I said with great contempt. "But I never heard any one sing +like that before." + +"He does sing well," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, thoughtfully. + +"Immense expression and a fine voice," added Charlotte Benson. + +"He has been educated for the stage, you may be sure," said Mary +Leighton, with a little spite. "As Miss d'Estrée says, I never heard +anyone sing like that, out of the chorus of an opera." + +"Well, I think," returned Charlotte Benson, "if there were many voices +like that in ordinary choruses, one would be glad to dispense with the +solos and duets." + +"Oh, you would not find his voice so wonderful, if you heard it out of a +parlor. It is very well, but it would not fill a concert hall, much less +an opera house. No; you may be sure he has been educated for some of +those German choruses; you know they are very fine musicians." + +"Well, I don't know that it is anything to us what he was educated for," +said Charlotte Benson, sharply. "He has given us a very delightful +evening, and I, for one, am much obliged to him." + +"_Et moi aussi"_ murmured Henrietta, wreathing her large beautiful arms +about her friend, and the two sauntered away. + +Mary Leighton, in general ill-humor, and still remembering the walk of +the last evening, desired to fire a parting-shot, and exclaimed, as she +went out, "Well, I think it is something to us; I like to have +gentlemen about me." + +"You need not be uneasy," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, a little stiffly. "I +think Mr. Langenau is a gentleman." + +But at this moment his step was heard in the hall below, and there was +an end put to the conversation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MATINAL. + + Last night, when some one spoke his name, + From my swift blood that went and came + A thousand little shafts of flame + Were shivered in my narrow frame. + + _Tennyson_. + + +The next morning was brilliant and cool, the earth and heavens shining +after the rain of the past night. I was dressed long, long before +breakfast: it would be so tiresome to wait in my room till the bell +rang; yet if I went down-stairs, would it not look as if I wanted to see +Mr. Langenau again? I need not go to the library, of course, but I could +scarcely avoid being seen from the library if I went out. But why +suppose that he would be down again so early? It was very improbable, +and so, affectionately deceived, I put on a hat and walking-jacket and +stole down the stairs. I saw by the clock in the lower hall that it was +half an hour earlier than I had come down the morning before; at which I +was secretly chagrined, for now there was no danger, _alias_ hope, of +seeing Mr. Langenau. + +But probably he had forgotten all about the foolish half-hour that had +given me so much to think about. I glanced into the library, which was +empty, and hurried out of the hall-door, secretly disappointed. + +I took the path that led over the hill to the river. It passed through +the garden, under the long arbors of grapevines, over the hill, and +through a grove of maples, ending at the river where the boat-house +stood. The brightness of the morning was not lost on me, and before I +reached the maple-grove I was buoyant and happy. At the entrance of the +grove (which was traversed by several paths, the principal coming up +directly from the river) I came suddenly upon the tutor, walking +rapidly, with a pair of oars over his shoulder. He started, and for a +moment we both stood still and did not speak. I could only think with +confusion of my emotion when he sang. + +"You are always early," he said, with his slight, very slight, foreign +accent, "earlier than yesterday by half an hour," he added, looking at +his watch. My heart gave a great bound of pleasure. Then he had not +forgotten! How he must have seen all this. + +He stood and talked with me for some moments, and then desperately I +made a movement to go on. I do not believe, at least I am not sure, that +at first he had any intention of going with me. But it was not in human +nature to withstand the flattery of such emotion as his presence seemed +always to inspire in me; and then, I have no doubt, he had a certain +pleasure in talking to me outside of that; and then the morning was so +lovely and he had so much of books. + +He proposed to show me a walk I had not taken. There was a little +hesitation in his manner, but he was reassured by my look of pleasure, +and throwing down the oars under a tree, he turned and walked beside me. +No doubt he said to himself, "America! This paradise of girlhood;--there +can be no objection." It was heavenly sweet, that walk--the birds, the +sky, the dewiness and freshness of all nature and all life. It seemed +the unstained beginning of all things to me. + +The woods were wet; we could not go through them, and so we went a +longer way, along the river and back by the road. + +This time he did not do all the talking, but made me talk, and listened +carefully to all I said; and I was so happy, talking was not any effort. + +At last he made some allusion to the music of last night; that he was so +glad to see that I loved music as I did. "But I don't particularly," I +said in confusion, with a great fear of being dishonest, "at least I +never thought I did before, and I am so ignorant. I don't want you to +think I know anything about it, for you would be disappointed." He was +silent, and, I felt sure, because he was already disappointed; in fear +of which I went on to say-- + +"I never heard any one sing like that before; I am very sorry that it +gave any one an impression that I had a knowledge of music, when I +hadn't. I don't care about it generally, except in church, and I can't +understand what made me feel so yesterday." + +"Perhaps it is because you were in the mood for it," he said. "It is +often so, one time music gives us pleasure, another time it does not." + +"That may be so; but your voice, in speaking, even, seems to me +different from any other. It is almost as good as music when you speak; +only the music fills me with such feelings." + +"You must let me sing for you again," he said, rather low, as we walked +slowly on. + +"Ah; if you only will," I answered, with a deep sigh of satisfaction. + +We walked on in silence till we reached the gate: he opened it for me +and then said, "Now I must leave you, and go back for the oars." + +I was secretly glad of this; since the walk had reached its natural +limit and its end must be accepted, it was a relief to approach the +house alone and not be the subject of any observation. + +Breakfast had began: no one seemed to feel much interest in my entrance, +though flaming with red roses and red cheeks. + +They were of the sex that do not notice such things naturally, with much +interest or admiration. They had hardly "shaken off drowsy-hed," and had +no pleasure in anything but their breakfast, and not much in that. + +"How do you manage to get yourself up and dressed at such inhuman +hours?" said Mary Leighton, querulously. + +"You are a reproach to the household, and we will not suffer it," said +Charlotte Benson. + +"I never could understand this thing of getting up before you are +obliged to," added Henrietta plaintively. + +But Sophie seemed well satisfied, particularly when Mr. Langenau came in +and I looked down into my cup of tea, instead of saying good-morning to +him. He did not say very much, though there was a good deal of babble +among the others, principally about his music. + +It was becoming the fashion to be very attentive to him. He was made to +promise to play in the evening; to bring down his books of music for the +benefit of Miss Henrietta, who wanted to practice, Heaven knows what of +his. His advice was asked about styles of playing and modes of +instruction; he was deferred to as an authority. But very little he +seemed to care about it all, I thought. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THREE WEEKS TOO LATE. + + _Qui va à la chasse perd sa place_. + + _De la main à la bouche se perd souvent la soupe_. + + Distance all value enhances! + When a man's busy, why, leisure + Strikes him as wonderful pleasure. + Faith! and at leisure once is he, + Straightway he wants to be busy. + + _R. Browning_. + + +Two weeks more passed: two weeks that seem to me so many years when I +look back upon them. Many more walks, early and late, many evenings of +music, many accidents of meeting. It is all like a dream. At seventeen +it is so easy to dream! It does not take two weeks for a girl to fall in +love and make her whole life different. + +It was Saturday evening, and Richard was expected; Richard and Kilian +and Mr. Eugene Whitney. Ah, Richard was coming just three weeks +too late. + +We were all waiting on the piazza for them, in pretty toilettes and +excellent tempers. It was a lovely evening; the sunset was filling the +sky with splendor, and Charlotte and Henrietta had gone to the corner of +the piazza whence the river could be seen, and were murmuring fragments +of verses to each other. They were not so much absorbed, however, but +that they heard the first sound of the wheels inside the gate, and +hurried back to join us by the steps. + +Mary Leighton looked absolutely lovely. The blue organdie had seen the +day at last, and she was in such a flutter of delight at the coming of +the gentlemen that she could scarcely be recognized as the pale, flimsy +young person who had moped so unblushingly all the week. + +"They are all three there," she exclaimed with suppressed rapture, as +the carriage turned the angle of the road that brought them into sight. +Mrs. Hollenbeck, quite beaming with pleasure, ran down the steps (for +Richard had been away almost two months), and Mary Leighton was at her +side, of course. Charlotte Benson and Henrietta went half-way down the +steps, and I stood on the piazza by the pillar near the door. + +I was a little excited by their coming, too, but not nearly as much so +as I might have been three weeks ago. A subject of much greater interest +occupied my mind that very moment, and related to the chances of the +tutor's getting home in time for tea, from one of those long walks that +were so tiresome. I felt as if I hardly needed Richard now. Still, dear +old Richard! It was very nice to see him once again. + +The gentlemen all sprang out of the carriage, and a Babel of welcomes +and questions and exclamations arose. Richard kissed his sister, and +answered some of her many questions, then shook hands with the young +ladies, but I could see that his eye was searching for me. I can't tell +why, certainly not because I felt at all shy, I had stepped back, a +little behind the pillar and the vines. In an instant he saw me, and +came quickly up the steps, and stood by me and grasped my hand, and +looked exactly as if he meant to kiss me. I hoped that nobody saw his +look, and I drew back, a little frightened. Of course, I know that he +had not the least intention of kissing me, but his look was so eager and +so unusual, + +"It is two months, Pauline," he said; "and are you well?" And though I +only said that I was well and was very glad to see him, I am sure his +sister Sophie thought that it was something more, for she had followed +him up the steps and stood in the doorway looking at us. + +The others came up there, and Kilian, as soon as he could get out of the +meshes of the blue organdie, came to me, and tried to out-devotion +Richard. + +That is the way with men. He had not taken any trouble to get away from +Mary Leighton till Richard came. + +A young woman only needs one lover very much in earnest, to bring about +her several others, not so much, perhaps, in earnest, but very amusing +and instructive. Richard went away very quickly, for I am sure he did +not like that sort of thing. + +It was soon necessary for Mr. Kilian to suspend his devotion and go to +his room to get ready for tea. + +When we all assembled again, at the table, I found that he had placed +himself beside me, next his sister, little Benny having gone to bed. + +"Of course, the head of the table belongs to Richard; I never interfere +there, and as everybody else is placed, this is the only seat that I can +take, following the rose and thorn principle." + +"But that principle is not followed strictly," cried Charlotte Benson, +who sat by Mary Leighton. "Here are two roses and no thorn." + +"Ah! What a strange oversight," he exclaimed, seating himself +nevertheless. "The only way to remedy it will be to put the tutor in +your place, Miss Benson, and you come opposite Miss Pauline. Quick; +before he comes and refuses to move his Teutonic bones an inch." +Charlotte Benson changed her seat and the vacant one was left between +her and Mary Leighton. + +This is the order of our seats, for that and many following happy nights +and days: + + Richard, +Mary Leighton, Henrietta, +The Tutor, Mr. Eugene Whitney, +Charlotte Benson, Myself, +Charley, Kilian, + Sophie. + +Mary Leighton looked furious and could hardly speak a word all through +the meal. It was particularly hard upon her, as the tutor did not come, +and the chair was empty, and a glaring insult to her all the time. + +Kilian had done his part so innocently and so simply that it was hard to +suspect him of any intention to pique her and annoy Richard, but I am +sure he did it with just those two intentions. He was as thorough a +flirt as any woman, and withal very fond of change, and I think my pink +grenadine quite dazzled him as I stood on the piazza. Then came the +brotherly and quite natural desire to outshine Richard and put things +out a little. I liked it all very much, and was charmed to be of so much +consequence, for I saw all this quite plainly. I laughed and talked a +good deal with Kilian; he was delightful to laugh and talk with. Even +Eugene Whitney found me more worth his weak attention than the beautiful +and placid Henrietta. + +The amusement was chiefly at our end of the table. But amidst it, I did +not fail to glance often at the door and wonder, uncomfortably, why the +tutor did not come. + +As we left the table and lingered for a few moments in the hall, Richard +came up to me and said, as he prepared to light his cigar, "Will you not +come out and walk up and down the path here with me while I smoke?" + +I began to make some excuse, for I wanted to do nothing just then but +watch the stairway to see if Mr. Langenau did not come down even then +and go into the dining-room. + +But I reflected how ungracious it would seem to refuse this, when he had +just come home, and I followed him out into the path. + +There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, and the air was sweet +with the flower-beds in the grass along the path we walked. + +The house looked gay and pleasant as we walked up and down before it, +with its many lighted windows, and people with bright dresses moving +about on the piazza. Richard lit his cigar, and said, after a silence +of a few moments, with a sigh, "It is good to be at home again." + +"But you've had a pleasant journey?" + +"No; the most tiresome that I ever made, and this last detention wore my +patience out. It seemed the longest fortnight. I could not bear to think +of you all here, and I away in such a dismal hole." + +"I suppose Uncle Leonard had no pity on you, as long as there was a +penny to be made by staying there." + +"No; I spent a great deal of money in telegraphing to him for orders to +come home, but he would not give up." + +"And how is Uncle Leonard; did you go to Varick-street?" + +"No, indeed; I did not waste any time in town. I only reached there +yesterday." + +"I wonder Uncle Leonard let you off so soon." + +"He growled a good deal, but I did not stay to listen." + +"That's always the best way." + +"And now, Pauline, tell me how you like the place." + +"Like it! Oh, Richard, I think it is a Paradise," and I clasped my hands +in a young sort of ecstacy. + +He was silent, which was a sign that he was satisfied. I went on after +a moment, "I don't wonder that you all love it. I never saw anything +half so beautiful. The dear old house is prettier than any new one that +could be built, and the trees are so grand! And oh, Richard, I think the +garden lying on the hillside there in the beautiful warm sun, with such +royal flowers and fruit, is worth all the grape-houses and +conservatories in the neighborhood. Your sister took us to three or four +of the neighboring places a week or two ago. But I like this a hundred +times the best. I should think you would be sorry every moment that you +have to spend away from it." + +"I hope one of these days to live here altogether," he said in a low +tone. + +It was so difficult for Richard to be unreserved that it is very likely +this was the first time in his life that he had ever expressed this, the +brightest hope he had. + +I could fancy all these few words implied--a wife, children, a happy +home in manhood where he had been a happy child. + +"It belongs to Kilian and me, but it is understood I have the right to +it when I am ready for it." + +"And your sister--it does not belong at all to her?" + +"No, she only keeps house for us. It would make a great change for +Sophie if either of us married. But then I know that it would give her +pleasure, for I am sure that she would not be selfish." + +I was not so sure, but, of course, I did not say so. At this moment, +while Richard smoked and I walked silently beside him, a dark figure +struck directly across the path before us. The apparition was so sudden +that I sprang and screamed, and caught Richard by the arm. + +"I beg your pardon," said the tutor, with a quick look of surprise at me +and then at Richard, and bowing, strode on into the house. + +"That's the German Sophie has taken for the boys, is it?" said Richard, +knitting his brows, and looking after him, with no great approbation. "I +don't half like the idea of his being here: I told Sophie so at +starting. A governess would do as well for two years yet. What kind of a +person does he seem to be?" + +"I don't know--that is--I can't tell exactly. I don't know him well +enough," I answered in confusion, which Richard did not see. + +"No, of course not. You would not be likely to see him except at the +table. But it is awkward having him here,--so much of the week, no man +about; and one never knows anything about these Germans." + +"I thought--your sister said--you knew all about him," I said, in rather +a low voice. + +"As much as one needs to know about a mere teacher. But the person you +have in your house all the time is different." + +"But he is a gentleman," I put in more firmly. + +"I hope he is. He had letters to some friends of ours. But what are +letters? People give them when they're asked for them, and half the time +know nothing of the person for whom they do the favor, besides his name +and general standing. Hardly that, sometimes." Then, as if to put away a +tiresome and unwelcome subject, he began again to talk about the place. + +But I had lost my interest in the subject, and thought only of returning +to the house. + +"Don't," I said, playfully putting out my hand as he took out another +cigar to light. "You have smoked enough to-night. Do you know, you smoke +a great deal more than is good for you." + +"Well, I will not smoke any more to-night if you say so. Only don't go +in the house." + +"Oh, yes, you know we only came out to smoke." + +He stood in front of the path that led to the piazza and said, in an +affectionate, gentle way, "Stay and walk a little longer. I have not +told you half how glad I am that you are here at last." + +"Oh, as for that, you've got a good many weeks to tell me in. Besides, +it's getting chilly," and I gave a little shiver. + +"If you're cold, of course," he said, letting me pass and following me, +and added, with a shade of anxiety, "Why didn't you tell me before? I +never thought of it, and you have no shawl." + +I felt ashamed of myself as I led the way up the piazza steps. + +In the hall, which was quite light, they were all standing, and Mr. +Langenau was in the group. They were petitioning him for music. + +"Oh, he has promised that he will sing," said Sophie; "but remember he +has not had his tea. I have ordered it for you, Mr. Langenau; it will be +ready in a moment." + +Mr. Langenau bowed and turned to go up the stairs. His eye met mine, as +I came into the light, dazzled a little by it. + +He went up the stairs; the others after a few moments, went into the +parlor. I sat down on a sofa beside Mrs. Hollenbeck. Richard was called +away by a person on business. There was a shaded lamp on a bracket above +the sofa where we sat; Mrs. Hollenbeck was reading some letters she had +just received, and I took up the evening paper, reading over and over an +advertisement of books. Presently the servant came to Mrs. Hollenbeck +and said that Mr. Langenau's tea was ready. She was sent up to tell him +so, and in a few moments he came down. When he reached the hall, Sophie +looked up with her most lovely smile. + +"You must be famished, Mr. Langenau; pray go immediately to the +dining-room. I am sorry not to make your tea myself, but I hear Benny +waking and must go to him. Will you mind taking my place, Pauline, and +pouring out tea for Mr. Langenau?" + +I was bending over the paper; my face turned suddenly from red to pale. +I said something inaudible in reply, and got up and went into the +dining-room, followed by the tutor. + +It was several minutes before I looked at him. The servants had not +favored us with much light: there was a branch of wax candles in the +middle of the table. Mr. Langenau's plate was placed just at one side of +the tray, at which I had seated myself. He looked pale, even to his +lips. I began to think of the terrible walks in which he seemed to hunt +himself down, and to wonder what was the motive, though I had often +wondered that before. He took the cup of tea I offered him without +speaking. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, then I said, rather +irresolutely, "I am sure you tire yourself by these long walks." + +"Do you think so? No: they rest me." + +No doubt I felt more coquettish, and had more confidence than usual, +from the successes of that evening, and from the knowledge that Richard +and Kilian and Eugene Whitney, even, were so delighted to talk to me; +otherwise I could never have said what I said then, by a sudden impulse, +and with a half-laughing voice, "Do not go away again so long; it makes +it so dull and tiresome." + +He looked at me and said, "It does not seem to me you miss me very +much." But such a gleam of those dark, dangerous eyes! I looked down, +but my breath came quickly and my face must have shown the agitation +that I felt. + +At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the library, +came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door. He paused for +a moment at the door, walked away again, then came back and into the +room, with rather a quicker step than usual. + +"Pauline," he said, and I started visibly, "They seem to be waiting for +you in the parlor for a game of cards." + +His voice indicated anything but satisfaction. I half rose, then sank +back, and said, hesitatingly, "Can I pour you some more tea, Mr. +Langenau?" + +"If it is not troubling you too much," he said in a voice that a +moment's time had hardened into sharpness. + +Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on one +side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and cynical. +My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and Richard +angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the lamp flamed +up and scorched my arm. + +"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and wrapping +my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all softness and +kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance. + +"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come with me, +and I will get Sophie to put something on it." + +But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my sufferings. I +was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the other hand to +replace the cup and fill it. Seeing that I did not make much headway, +and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau said, "Allow me," and +held the cup while I managed to pour the tea into it. He thanked me +stiffly, and without looking at either of them I got up and went out of +the room, Richard following me. + +"Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for you?" he +said a little coldly. + +"No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything more +about it; it only hurt me for a moment." + +"Will you go into the parlor, then?" + +"No--yes, that is," I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he did not +follow me. + +I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by one of the +windows, a little out of the light. This window opened upon the piazza. +After a little while Richard, walking up and down the piazza, stopped by +it, and said to me: "I hope you won't think it unreasonable in me to +ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you happen to be making tea for +that--that man in there?" + +"I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister asked me +to," I said angrily; "you had better speak to her about it." + +"You may be sure I shall," he said, walking away from the window. + +Presently the tutor came in from the hall by the door near the piano, +and sat down by it without being asked, and began to play softly, as if +not to interrupt the game of cards. I could not help thinking in what +good taste this was, since he had promised not to wait for any more +importunities. The game at cards soon languished, for Charlotte Benson +really had an enthusiasm for music, and was not happy till she was at +liberty to give her whole attention to it. As soon as the players were +released, Kilian came over and sat beside me. He rather wearied me, for +I wanted to listen to the music, but he was determined not to see that, +and chattered so that more than once Charlotte Benson turned impatiently +and begged us not to talk. Once Mr. Langenau himself turned and looked +at us, but Kilian only paused, and then went on again. + +Mary Leighton had fled to the piano and was gazing at the keys in a rapt +manner, hoping, no doubt, to rouse Kilian to jealousy of the tutor. + +"Please go away," I said at last, "this is making me seem rude." + +"Do not tell me," he exclaimed, "that you are helping Mary Leighton and +Sophie to spoil this German fellow. I really did not look for it in +you. I--" + +"I can't stay here and be talked to," I said, getting up in despair. + +"Then come on the piazza," he exclaimed, and we were there almost before +I knew what I was doing. + +I suppose every one in the room saw us go out: I was in terror when I +thought what an insult it would seem to Mr. Langenau. We walked about +the piazza for some time; I am afraid Mr. Kilian found me rather dull, +for I could only listen to what was going on inside. At last he was +called away by a man from the stable, who brought some alarming account +of his beloved Tom or Jerry. If I had been his bride at the altar, I am +sure he would have left me; being only a new and very faintly-lighted +flame, he hurried off with scarcely an apology. + +I sat down in a piazza-chair, just outside the window at which we had +been sitting. I looked in at the window, but no one could see me, from +the position of my chair. + +Presently Mr. Langenau left the piano, and Mary Leighton, talking to him +with effusion, walked across the room beside him, and took her seat at +this very window. He did not sit down, but stood before her with his hat +in his hand, as if he only awaited a favorable pause to go away. + +"Ah, where did Pauline go?" she said, glancing around. "But I suppose we +must excuse her, for to-night at least, as he has just come home. I +imagine the engagement was no surprise to you?" + +"Of what engagement do you speak?" he said. + +"Why! Pauline and Richard Vandermarck; you know it is quite a settled +thing. And very good for her, I think. He seems to me just the sort of +man to keep her steady and--well, improve her character, you know. She +seems such a heedless sort of girl. They say her mother ran away and +made some horrid marriage, and, I believe, her uncle has had to keep her +very strict. He is very much pleased, I am told, with marrying her to +Richard, and she herself seems very much in love with him." + +All this time he had stood very still and looked at her, but his face +had changed slowly as she spoke. I knew then that what she had said had +not pleased him. She went on in her babbling, soft voice: + +"His sister Sophie isn't pleased, of course, so there is nothing said +about it here. It _is_ rather hard for her, for the place belongs to +Richard, and besides, Richard has been very generous to her always. And +then to see him marry just such a sort of person--you know--so young--" + +"Yes--so young," said Mr. Langenau, between his teeth, "and of such +charming innocence." + +"Oh, as to that," said Mary Leighton, piqued beyond prudence, "we all +have our own views as to that." + +The largess due the bearer of good news was not by right the meed of +Mary Leighton. He looked at her as if he hated her. + +"Mr. Richard Yandermarck is a fortunate man," he said. "She has rare +beauty, if he has a taste for beauty." + +"Men sometimes tire of that; if indeed she has it. Her coloring is her +strong point, and that may not last forever;" and Mary's voice was no +longer silvery. + +"You think so?" he said. "I think her grace is her strong point, '_la +grâce encore plus belle que la beauté_,' and longer-lived beside. Few +women move as she does, making it a pleasure to follow her with the +eyes. And her height and suppleness: at twenty-five she will be regal." + +"Then, Mr. Langenau," she cried, with sudden spitefulness, "you _do_ +admire her very much yourself! Do you know, I thought perhaps you did. +How you must envy Mr. Vandermarck!" + +A slight shrug of the shoulders and a slight low laugh; after which, he +said, "No, I think not. I have not the courage that is necessary." + +"The courage! why, what do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that a man who ventures to love a woman in whom he cannot trust, +has need for courage and for patience; perhaps Mr. Richard Vandermarck +has them both abundantly. For me, I think the pretty Miss Pauline would +be safer as an hour's amusement than as a life's companion." + +The words stabbed, killed me. With an ejaculation that could scarcely +have escaped their ears, I sprang up and ran through the hall and up the +stairs. Before I reached the landing-place, I knew that some one was +behind me. I did not look or pause, but flew on through the hall till I +reached my own door. My own door was just at the foot of the third-floor +stairway. I glanced back, and saw that it was Mr. Langenau who was +behind me. I pushed open my door and went half-way in the room; then +with a vehement and sudden impulse came back into the hall and pulled it +shut again and stood with my hand upon the latch, and waited for him to +pass. In an instant more he was near me, but not as if he saw me; he +could not reach the stairway without passing so near me that he must +touch my dress. I waited till he was so near, and said, "Mr. Langenau." + +He raised his eyes steadily to mine and bowed low. I almost choked for +one instant, and then I found voice and rushed on vehemently. "What she +has told you is false; every word of it is false. I am not engaged to +Richard Vandermarck; I never thought of such a thing till I came here, +and found they talked about it. They ought to be ashamed, and I will go +away to-morrow. And what she said about my mother is a wicked lie as +well, at least in the way she meant it; and I shall hate her all my +life. I have been motherless and lonely always, but God has cared for +me, and I never knew before what evil thoughts and ways there were. I +am not ashamed that I listened, though I didn't mean to stay at first. +I'm glad I heard it all and know what kind of friends I have. And those +last cruel words you said--I never will forgive you, never--never--never +till I die." + +He had put his hand out toward me as if in conciliation, at least I +understood it so. I pushed it passionately away, rushed into my room, +bolted the door, and flung myself upon the bed with a frightful burst of +sobs. I heard his hand upon the latch of the door, and he said my name +several times in a low voice. Then he went slowly up the stairs. And I +think his room must have been directly over mine, for, for hours I heard +some one walking there; indeed, it was the last sound I heard, when, +having cried all my tears and vowed all my vows, I fell asleep and +forgot that I was wretched. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +SUNDAY. + + _La notte é madre di pensieri_. + + Now tell me how you are as to religion? + You are a clear good man--but I rather fear + You have not much of it. + + _Faust_. + + +It was all very well to talk about going away; but the matter looked +very differently by daylight. It was Sunday; and I knew I could not go +away for a day or two, and not even then without making a horrid sort of +stir, for which I had not the courage in cold blood. Besides, I did not +even know that I wanted to go if I could. Varick-street! Hateful, +hateful thought. No, I could not go there. And though (by daylight) I +still detested Mary Leighton, and felt ashamed about Richard, and +remembered all Mr. Langenau's words (sweet as well as bitter), +everything was let down a great many degrees; from the heights of +passion into the plains of commonplace. + +My great excitement had worked its own cure, and I was so dull and weary +that I did not even want to think of what had passed the night before. +If I had a sentiment that retained any strength, it was that of shame +and self-contempt. I could not think of myself in any way that did not +make me blush. When, however, it came to the moment of facing every one, +and going down to breakfast, I began to know I still had some +other feelings. + +I was the last to go down. The bell had rung a very long while before I +left my room. I took my seat at the table without looking at any one, +though, of course, every one looked at me. My confused and rather +general good-morning was returned with much precision by all. Somebody +remarked that I did not look well. Somebody else remarked that was +surely because I went to bed so early; that it never had been known to +agree with any one. Some one else wanted to know why I had gone so +early, and that I had been hunted for in all directions for a dance +which had been a sudden inspiration. + +"But as you had gone away, and the musician could not be found, we had +to give it up," said Charlotte Benson, "and we owe you both a grudge." + +"For my part, I am very sorry," said Mr. Langenau. "I had no thought +that you meant to dance last night, or I should have stayed at the +piano; I hope you will tell me the next time." + +"The next time will be to-morrow evening," said Mary Leighton. "Now, +Mr. Langenau, you will not forget--or--or get excited about anything +and go away?" + +I dared not look at Mr. Langenau's face, but I am sure I should not have +seen anything pleasant if I had. I don't know what he answered, for I +was so confused, I dropped a plate of berries which I was just taking +from Kilian's hand, and made quite an uncomfortable commotion. The +berries were very ripe, and they rolled in many directions on the +table-cloth, and fell on my white dress. + +"Your pretty dress is ruined, I'm afraid," said Kilian, stooping down to +save it. + +"I don't care about that, but I'm very sorry that I've stained the +table-cloth," and I looked at Mrs. Hollenbeck as if I thought that she +would scold me for it. But she quite reassured me. Indeed, I think she +was so pleased with me, that she would not have minded seeing me ruin +all the table-cloths that she had. + +"But it will make you late for church, for you'll have to change your +dress," said Charlotte Benson, practically, glancing at the clock. I was +very thankful for the suggestion, for I thought it would save me from +the misery of trying to eat breakfast, but Kilian made such an outcry +that I found I could not go without more comments than I liked. + +"You have no appetite either," said Mary Leighton. "I am ashamed to eat +as much as I want, for here is Mr. Langenau beside me, who has only +broken a roll in two and drank a cup of coffee." + +"I am not perhaps quite used to your American way of breakfasting," he +returned quickly. + +"But you ate breakfasts when we first came," said the sweet girl gently. + +"Was not the weather cooler then?" he answered, "and I have missed my +walk this morning." + +"Let me give you some more coffee, at any rate," said Sophie, with +affectionate interest. Indeed, I think at that moment she absolutely +loved him. + +In a few minutes I escaped from the table; when I came down from my room +ready for church, I found that they were all just starting. (Richard, I +suppose, would have waited for me.) The church was in the village, and +not ten minutes' walk from the house. Kilian was carrying Mary +Leighton's prayer-book, and was evidently intending to walk with her. + +Richard came up to me and said, "Sophie is waiting to know if you will +let her drive you, or if you will walk." + +I had not yet been obliged to speak to Richard since I had heard what +people said about us, and I felt uncomfortable. + +"Oh, let me drive if there is room," I said, without looking up. Sophie +sat in her little carriage waiting for me. Richard put me in beside her, +and then joined the others, while we drove away. Benny, in his white +Sunday clothes, sat at our feet. + +"I think it is so much better for you to drive," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, +"for the day is warm, and I did not think you looked at all well +this morning." + +"No," I said faintly. And she was so kind, I longed to tell her +everything. It is frightful at seventeen to have no one to tell your +troubles to. + +At the gate Benny was just grumbling about getting out to open it, when +Mr. Langenau appeared, and held it open for us. He was dressed in a +flannel suit which he wore for walking. After he closed the gate, he +came up beside the carriage, as Mrs. Hollenbeck very kindly invited him +to do, by driving slowly. + +"Are you coming with us to church, Mr. Langenau?" asked Benny. + +"To church? No, Benny. I am afraid they would not let me in." + +"Why, yes, they would, if you had your good clothes on," said Benny. + +Mr. Langenau laughed, a little bitterly, and said he doubted, even then. +"I am afraid I haven't got my good conscience on either, Benny." + +"But the minister would never know," said Benny. + +"That's very true; the ministers here don't know much about peoples' +consciences, I should think." + +"Do ministers in any other places know any more?" asked Benny with +interest. + +"Why, yes, Benny, in a good many countries where I've been, they do." + +"You are a Catholic, Mr. Langenau?" asked Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +"I once was; I have no longer any right to say it is my faith," he +answered slowly. + +"What is it to be a Catholic?" inquired Benny, gazing at his tutor's +face with wonder. + +"To be a Catholic, is to be in a safe prison; to have been a Catholic, +is to be alone on a sea big and black with billows, Benny." + +"I think I'd like the prison best," said Benny, who was very much afraid +of the water. + +"Ah, but if you couldn't get back to it, my boy." + +"Well, I think I'd try to get to land somewhere," Benny answered, +stoutly. + +Mr. Langenau laughed, but rather gloomily, and we went on for a few +moments in silence. The road was bordered with trees, and there was a +beautiful shade. The horse was very glad to be permitted to go slow, not +being of an ambitious nature. + +All this time I had been leaning back, holding my parasol very close +over my face. Mr. Langenau happened to be on the side by me: once when +the carriage had leaned suddenly, he had put his hand upon it, and had +touched, without intending it, my arm. + +"I beg your pardon," he had said, and that was all he had said to me; +and I had felt very grateful that Benny had been so inclined to talk. I +trusted that nobody would speak to me, for my voice would never be +steady and even again, I was sure, when he was by to listen to it. + +Now, however, he spoke to me: commonplace words, the same almost that +every one in the house had addressed to me that morning, but how +differently they sounded. + +"I am sorry that you are not well to-day, Miss d'Estrée." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck at this moment began to find some fault with Benny's +gloves, and leaning down, talked very obligingly and earnestly with him, +while she fastened the gloves upon his hands. + +Mr. Langenau took the occasion, as it was intended he should take it, +and said rather low, "You will not refuse to see me a few moments this +evening, that I may explain something to you?" + +I think he was disappointed that I did not answer him, only turned away +my head. But I don't know in truth what other answer he had any right to +ask. He did not attempt to speak again, but as we turned into the +village, said, "Good-morning, I must leave you. Good-bye, Benny, since I +have neither clothes nor conscience fit for church." + +Sophie laughed, and said, at least she hoped he would be home for +dinner. He did not promise, but raising his hat struck off into a little +path by the roadside, that led up into the woods. + +"What a pity," said Mrs. Hollenbeck musingly, "that a man of such fine +intellect should have such vague religious faith." + +Mr. Langenau was at home for dinner, but he did not see me at that meal, +for my head ached so, and I felt so weary that when I came up-stairs +after church, it seemed impossible to go down again. I should have been +very glad to make the same excuse serve for the remainder of the day, +but really the rest and a cup of tea had so restored me, that no excuse +remained at six o'clock. + +All families have their little Sunday habits, I have found; the Sunday +rule in this house was, to have tea at half-past six, and to walk by the +river till after the sun had set; then to come home and have sacred +music in the parlor. After tea, accordingly, we took our shawls on our +arms (it still being very warm) and walked down toward the river. + +I kept beside Mrs. Hollenbeck and Benny, where only I felt safe. + +The criticism I had heard had given me such a shock, I did not feel that +I ever could be careful enough of what I said and did. And I vaguely +felt my mother's honor would be vindicated, if I showed myself always a +modest and prudent woman. + +"It was so well that I heard them," I kept saying to myself, but I felt +so much older and so much graver. My silence and constraint were no +doubt differently interpreted. Richard did not come up to me, except to +tell me I had better put my shawl on, as I sat on the steps of the +boat-house, with Benny beside me. The others had walked further on and +were sitting, some of them on the rocks, and some on the boat that had +been drawn up, watching the sun go down. + +"Tell me a story," said Benny, resting his arms on my lap, "a story +about when you were a little girl." + +"Oh, Benny, that wouldn't make a pretty story." + +"Oh, yes, it would: all about your mamma and the house you used to live +in, and the children you used to go to see." + +"Dear Benny! I never lived in but one old, dismal house. I never went +to play with any children. I could not make a story out of that." + +"But your mamma. O yes, I'm sure you could if you tried very hard." + +"Ah, Benny! that's the worst of all. For my mamma has been with God and +the good angels in the sky, ever since I was a little baby, and I have +had a dreary time without her here alone." + +"Then I think you might tell me about God and the good angels," +whispered Benny, getting closer to me. + +I wrapped my arms around him, and leaning my face down upon his yellow +curls, told him a story of God and the good angels in the sky. + +Dear little Benny! I always loved him from that night. He cried over my +story: that I suppose wins everybody's heart: and we went together, +looking at the placid river and the pale blue firmament, very far into +the paradise of faith. My tears dropped upon his upturned face; and when +the stars came out, and we were told it was time to go back to the +house, we went back hand in hand, firm friends for all life from that +Sunday night. + +"There is Mr. Langenau," said Benny; "waiting for you, I should think." + +Mr. Langenau was waiting for me at the piazza steps. He fixed his eyes +on mine as if waiting for my permission to speak again. But I fastened +my eyes upon the ground, and holding Benny tightly by the hand, went on +into the house. + + + +Chapter IX. + +A DANCE. + + It is impossible to love and to be wise. + + _Bacon_. + + Niente piu tosto se secca che lagrime. + + +"This is what we must do about it," said Kilian, as we sat around the +breakfast-table. "If you are still in a humor for the dance to-night, I +will order Tom and Jerry to be brought up at once, and Miss Pauline and +I will go out and deliver all the invitations." + +"Of which there are about five," said Charlotte Benson. "You can spare +Tom and Jerry and send a small boy." + +"But what if I had rather go myself?" he said, "and Miss Pauline needs +the air. Now there are--let me see," and he began to count up the +dancing inhabitants of the neighborhood. + +"Will you write notes or shall we leave a verbal message at each door?" + +"Oh leave a verbal message by all means," said Charlotte Benson, a +little sharply. "It won't be quite _en règle_, as Miss d'Estrée doesn't +know the people, but so unconventional and fresh." + +"I do know them," I retorted, much annoyed, "conventionally at least: +for they have all called upon me, though I didn't see them all. But I +shall be very glad if you will take my place." + +"Oh, thank you; I wasn't moving an amendment for that end. We have made +our arrangements for the morning, irrespective of the delivery +of cards." + +"I shall have time to write the notes first, if Sophie would rather have +notes sent," said Henrietta, who wrote a good hand and was very fond of +writing people's notes for them. + +"Oh, thank you, dear; yes, perhaps it would be best, and save Pauline +and Kilian trouble." + +So Henrietta went grandly away to write her little notes: a very large +ship on a very small voyage. + +"And how about your music, Sophie," said Kilian, who was anxious to have +all business matters settled relating to the evening. + +"Well, I suppose you had better go for the music-teacher from the +village; he plays very well for dancing, and it is a mercy to me and to +poor Henrietta, who would have to be pinned to the piano for the +evening, if we didn't have him." + +"As to that, I thought we had a music-teacher of our own: can't your +German be made of any practical account? Or is he only to be looked at +and revered for his great powers?" + +"I didn't engage Mr. Langenau to play for us to dance," said Sophie. + +"Nor to lounge about the parlor every evening either," muttered Kilian, +pushing away his cup of coffee. + +"Now, Mr. Kilian, pray don't let our admiration of the tutor drive you +into any bitterness of feeling," cried Charlotte Benson, who had been +treasuring up a store of little slights from Kilian. "You know he can't +be blamed for it, poor man." + +Kilian was so much annoyed that he did not trust himself to answer, but +rose from the table, and asked me if I would drive with him in half +an hour. + +During the drive, he exclaimed angrily that Charlotte Benson had a +tongue that would drive a man to suicide if he came in hearing of it +daily. "Why, if she were as beautiful as a goddess, I could never love +her. Depend upon it, she'll never get a husband, Miss Pauline." + +"Some men like to be scolded, I have heard," I said. + +"Well then, if you ever stumble upon one that does, just call me and +I'll run and fetch him Charlotte Benson." + +The morning was lovely, and I had much pleasure in the drive, though I +had not gone with any idea of enjoying it. It was very exhilarating to +drive so fast as Kilian always drove; and Kilian himself always amused +me and made me feel at ease. We were very companionable; and though I +could not understand how young ladies could make a hero of him, and +fancy that they loved him, I could quite understand how they should find +him delightful and amusing. + +We delivered our notes, at more than one place, into the hands of those +to whom they were addressed, and had many pleasant talks at the piazza +steps with young ladies whom I had not known before. Then we went to the +village and engaged the music-teacher, stopped at the "store" and left +some orders, and drove to the Post-Office to see if there were letters. + +"Haven't we had a nice morning!" I exclaimed simply, as we drove up to +the gate. + +"Capital," said Kilian. "I'm afraid it's been the best part of the day. +I wish I had any assurance that the German would be half as pleasant. I +beg your pardon, I don't mean your surly Teuton, but the dance that we +propose to-night; I wish it had another name. Confound it! there he is +ahead of us. (I don't mean the dance this time, you see.) I wish he'd +turn back and open the gate for us. Holloa there!" + +Kilian would not have dared call out, if the boys had not been with +their tutor. It was one o'clock, and they were coming from the +farm-house back to dinner. At the call they all turned; Mr. Langenau +stood still, and told Charles to go back and open the gate. + +Kilian frowned; he didn't like to see his nephew ordered to do anything +by this unpleasant German. While we were waiting for the opening of the +gate, the tutor walked on toward the house with Benny. As we passed +them, Benny called out, "Stop, Uncle Kilian, stop, and take me in." +Benny never was denied anything, so we stopped and Mr. Langenau lifted +him up in front of us. He bowed without speaking, and Benny was the +orator of the occasion. + +"You looked as if you were having such a nice time, I thought I'd like +to come." + +"Well, we were," said Kilian, with a laugh, and then we drove on +rapidly. + +At the tea-table Mr. Langenau said to Sophie as he rose to go away: +"Mrs. Hollenbeck, if there is any service I can render you this evening +at the piano, I shall be very glad if you will let me know." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck thanked him with cordiality, but told him of the +provision that had been made. + +"But you will dance, Mr. Langenau," cried Mary Leighton, "we need +dancing-men terribly, you know. Promise me you'll dance." + +"Oh," said Charlotte Benson, "he has promised me." Mr. Langenau bowed +low; he got wonderfully through these awkward situations. As he left the +room Kilian said in a tone loud enough for us, but not for him, to hear, +"The Lowders have a nice young gardener; hadn't we better send to see if +he can't come this evening?" + +"Kilian, that's going a little too far," said Richard in a displeased +manner; "as long as the boys' tutor conducts himself like a gentleman, +he deserves to be treated like a gentleman." + +"Ah, Paterfamilias, thank you. Yes, I'll think of it," and Kilian +proposed that we should leave the table, as we all seemed to have +appeased our appetites and nothing but civil war could come of staying +any longer. + +It was understood we had not much time to dress: but when I came +down-stairs, none of the others had appeared. Richard met me in the +hall: he had been rather stern to me all day, but his manner quite +softened as he stood beside me under the hall-lamp. That was the result +of my lovely white mull, with its mint of Valenciennes. + +"You haven't any flowers," he said. Heavens! who'd have thought he'd +ever have spoken in such a tone again, after the cup of tea I poured out +for the tutor. "Let's go and see if we can't find some in these vases +that are fit, for I suppose the garden's robbed." + +"Yes," I said, following him, quite pleased. For I could not bear to +have him angry with me. I was really fond of him, dear, old Richard; and +I looked so happy that I have no doubt he thought more of it than he +ought. He pulled all the pretty vases in the parlor to pieces: +(Charlotte and Henrietta and his sister had arranged them with such +care!) and made me a bouquet of ferns, and tea-roses, and lovely, lovely +heliotrope. I begged him to stop, but he went on till the flowers were +all arranged and tied together, and no one came down-stairs till the +spoilage was complete. + +All this time Mr. Langenau was in the library--restless, pretending to +read a book. I saw him as we passed the door, but did not look again. +Presently we heard the sound of wheels. + +"There," said Richard, feeling the weight of hospitality upon him, +"Sophie isn't down. How like her!" + +But at the last moment, to save appearances, Sophie came down the +stairs and went into the parlor: indolent, favored Sophie, who always +came out right when things looked most against it. + +In a little while the empty rooms were peopled. Dress improved the young +ladies of the house very much, and the young ladies who came were some +of them quite pretty: The gentlemen seemed to me very tiresome and not +at all good-looking. Richard was quite a king among them, with his +square shoulders, and his tawny moustache, and his blue eyes. + +There were not quite gentlemen enough, and Mrs. Hollenbeck fluttered +into the library to hunt up Mr. Langenau, and he presently came out with +her. He was dressed with more care than usual, and suitably for evening: +he had the _vive_ attentive manner that is such a contrast to most young +men in this country: everybody looked at him and wondered who he was. +The music-teacher was playing vigorously, and so, before the German was +arranged, several impetuous souls flew away in waltzes up and down the +room. The parlor was a very large room. It had originally been two +rooms, but had been thrown into one, as some pillars and a slight arch +testified. The ceiling was rather low, but the many windows which opened +on the piazza, and the unusual size of the room, made it very pretty +for a dance. Mary Leighton and the tutor were dancing; somebody was +talking to me, but I only saw that. + +"How well he dances," I heard some one exclaim. + +I'm afraid it must have been Richard whom I forgot to answer just +before: for I saw him twist his yellow moustache into his mouth and bite +it; a bad sign with him. + +Kilian was to lead with Mary Leighton, and he came up to where we stood, +and said to Richard, "I suppose you have Miss Pauline for your partner?" + +Now I had been very unhappy for some time, dreading the moment, but +there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. So I said, "I hope you +are not counting upon me for dancing? You know I cannot dance!" + +"Not dance!" cried Kilian, in amazement; "why, I never dreamed of that." + +"You don't like it, Pauline?" said Richard, looking at me. + +"Like it!" I said, impatiently. "Why, I don't know how; who did I ever +have to dance with in Varick-street? Ann Coddle or old Peter? And Uncle +Leonard never thought of such a thing as sending me to school." + +"Why didn't you tell me before, and we wouldn't have bothered about +this stupid dance," said Kilian; but I think he didn't mean it, for he +enjoyed dancing very much. + +Richard had to go away, for though he hated it, he was needed, as they +had not gentlemen enough. + +The one or two persons who had been introduced to me, on going to join +the dance, also expressed regret. Even Mrs. Hollenbeck came up, and said +how sorry she was: she had supposed I danced. + +But they all went away, and I was left by one of the furthest windows +with a tiresome old man, who didn't dance either, because his legs +weren't strong enough, and who talked and talked till I asked him not +to; which he didn't seem to like. But to have to talk, with the noise of +the music, and the stir, of the dancing, and the whirl that is always +going on in such a room, is penance. I told him it made my head ache, +and besides I couldn't hear, and so at last he went away, and I was +left alone. + +Sometimes in pauses of the dance Richard came up to me, and sometimes +Kilian; but it had the effect of making me more uncomfortable, for it +made everybody turn and look at me. Bye and bye I stole away and went on +the piazza, and looked in where no one could see me. I could not go away +entirely, for I was fascinated by the dance. I longed so to be dancing, +and had such bitter feelings because I never had been taught. After I +left the room, I could see Richard was uncomfortable; he looked often at +the door, and was not very attentive to his partner. No one else seemed +to miss me. Mr. Langenau talked constantly to Miss Lowder, with whom he +had been dancing, and never looked once toward where I had been sitting. +A long time after, when they had been dancing--hours it seemed to +me--Miss Lowder seemed to feel faint or tired, and Mr. Langenau came out +with her, and took her up-stairs to the dressing-room. + +Ashamed to be seen looking in at the window, I ran into the library and +sat down. There was a student's lamp upon the table, but the room had no +other light. I sat leaning back in a large chair by the table, with my +bouquet in my lap, buttoning and unbuttoning absently my long white +gloves. In a moment I heard Mr. Langenau come down-stairs alone: he had +left Miss Lowder in the dressing-room to rest there: he came directly +toward the library. + +He came half-way in the door, then paused. "May I speak to you?" he said +slowly, fixing his eyes on mine. "I seem to be the only one who is +forbidden, of those who have offended you and of those who have not." + +"No one has said what you have," I said very faintly. + +In an instant he was standing beside me, with one hand resting on the +table. + +"Will you listen to me," he said, bending a little toward me and +speaking in a quick, low voice, "I did say what you have a right to +resent; but I said it in a moment when I was not master of my words. I +had just heard something that made me doubt my senses: and my only +thought was how to save myself, and not to show how I was staggered by +it. I am a proud man, and it is hard to tell you this--but I cannot bear +this coldness from you--and _I ask you to forgive me_" + +His eyes, his voice, had all their unconquerable influence upon me. I +bent over Richard's poor flowers, and pulled them to pieces while I +tried to speak. There was a silence, during which he must have heard the +loud beating of my heart, I think: at last he spoke again in a lower +voice, "Will you not be kind, and say that we are friends once more?" + +I said something that was inaudible to him, and he stooped a little +nearer me to catch it. I made a great effort and commanded my voice and +said, very low? but with an attempt to speak lightly, "You have not made +it any better, but I will forget it." + +He caught my hand for one instant, then let it go as suddenly. And +neither of us could speak. + +There is no position more false and trying than a woman's, when she is +told in this way that a man loves her, and yet has not been told it; +when she must seem not to see what she would be an idiot not to see; +when he can say what he pleases and she must seem to hear only so much. +I did no better and no worse than most women of my years would have +done. At last the silence (which did not seem a silence to me, it was so +full of new and conflicting thoughts,) was broken by the recommencement +of the music in the other room. He had taken a book in his hands and was +turning over its pages restlessly. + +"Why have you not danced?" he said at last, in a voice that still showed +agitation. + +"I have not danced because I can't, because I never have been taught." + +"You? not taught? it seems incredible. But let me teach you. Will you? +Teach you! you would dance by intention. And would love it--madly--as I +did years ago. Come with me, will you?" + +"Oh, no," I said, half frightened, shrinking back, "I am not going to +dance--ever." + +"Perhaps that is as well," he said in a low tone, meeting my eye for an +instant, and telling me by that sudden brilliant gleam from his, that +then he would be spared the pain of ever seeing me dancing with another. + +"But let me teach you something," he said after a moment. "Let me teach +you German--will you?" He sank down in a chair by the table, and leaning +forward, repeated his question eagerly. + +"Oh, yes, I should like it so much--if--." + +"If--if what? If it could be arranged without frightening and +embarrassing you, you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"I wonder if you are not more afraid of being frightened and embarrassed +than of any other earthly trial. There are worse things that come to us, +Miss d'Estrée. But I will arrange about the German, and you need have no +terror. How will I arrange? No matter--when Mrs. Hollenbeck asks you to +join a class in German, you will join it, will you not?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"You promise?" + +"Oh, anything." + +"Anything? take care. I may fill up a check for thousands, if you give a +blank." + +"I didn't give a blank; anything about German's what I meant." + +"Ah, that's safer, but not half so generous. And yet you're one who +might be generous, I think." + +"But tell me about the German class." + +"I've nothing to tell you about it," he answered, "only that you've +promised to learn." + +"But where are we to say our lessons, and what books are we to Study?" + +"Would you like to say a lesson now and get one step in advance of all +the others?" + +"O yes! I shall need at least as much grace as that." + +"Then say this after me: 'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH +LEHREN.' Begin. 'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--" + +"'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--but what does it mean?" + +"Oh, that is not important. Learn it first. Can you not trust me? 'ICH +WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH LEHREN.'" + +"'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--ah, you look as if my pronunciation were +not good." + +"I was not thinking of that; you pronounce very well. 'ICH WILL ALLES +LERNEN--'" + +"ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH LEHREN:--there _now_, tell me +what it means." + +"Not until you learn it; _encore une fois_." + +I said it after him again and again, but when I attempted it alone, I +made invariably some error. + +"Let me write it for you," he said, and pulling a book from his pocket, +tore out a leaf and wrote the sentence on it. "There--keep the paper and +study it, and say it to me in the morning." + +I have the paper still; long years have passed: it is only a crumpled +little yellow fragment; but the world would be poorer and emptier to me +if it were destroyed. + +I had quite mastered the sentence, saying it after him word for word, +and held the slip of paper in my hand, when I heard steps in the hall. I +knew Richard's step very well, and gave a little start. Mr. Langenau +frowned, and his manner changed, as I half rose from my seat, and as +quickly sank back in it again. + +"Is it that you lack courage?" he said, looking at me keenly. + +"I don't know what I lack," I cried, bending down my head to hide my +flushed face; "but I hate to be scolded and have scenes." + +"But who has a right to scold you and to make a scene?" + +"Nobody: only everybody does it all the same." + +"Everybody, I suppose, means Mr. Richard Vandermarck, who is frowning at +you this moment from the hall." + +"And it means you--who are frowning at me this moment from your seat." + +All this time Richard had been standing in the hall; but now he walked +slowly away. I felt sure he had given me up. The people began to come +out of the parlor, and I felt ready to cry with vexation, when I thought +that they would again be talking about me. It was true, I am afraid, +that I lacked courage. + +"You want me to go away?" he said, fixing his eyes intently on me. + +"O yes, if you only would," I said naïvely. + +He looked so white and angry when he rose, that I sprang up and put out +my hand to stop him, and said hurriedly, "I only meant--that is--I +should think you would understand without my telling you. A woman cannot +bear to have people talk about her, and know who she likes and who she +doesn't. It kills me to have people talk about me. I'm not used to +society--I don't know what is right--but I don't think--I am afraid--I +ought not to have stayed in here and talked to you away from all the +others. It's that that makes me so uncomfortable. That, and Richard too. +For I know he doesn't like to have me pleased with any one. Do not go +away angry with me. I don't see why you do not understand." + +My incoherent little speech had brought him to his senses. + +"I am not going away angry," he said in a low voice, "I will promise not +to speak to you again to-night. Only remember that I have feelings as +well as Mr. Richard Vandermarck." + +In a moment more I was alone. Richard did not come near me, nor seem to +notice me, as he passed through the hall. Presently Mr. Eugene Whitney +came in, and I was very glad to see him. + +"Won't you take me to walk on the piazza?" I asked, for everybody else +was walking there. He was only too happy; and so the evening ended +commonplace enough. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN. + + She wanted years to understand + The grief that he did feel. + + _Surrey_. + + Love is not love + That alters where it alteration finds. + + +This was how the German class was formed. + +The next day, as we were leaving the dinner-table, Mr. Langenau paused a +few moments by Sophie, in the hall, and talked with her about the boys. + +"Charley gets on very well with his German," he observed, "but Benny +doesn't make much progress. He is too young to study much, and acquires +chiefly by the ear. If you only had a German maid, or if you could speak +with him yourself, he would make much better progress." + +"Yes, I wish I had more knowledge of the language," she replied; "I read +it very easily, but cannot speak with any fluency." + +"Why will you never speak it with me?" he said. "And if you will permit +me, I shall be very glad to read with you an hour a day. I have much +leisure, and it would be no task to me." + +"I should like it very much, and you are very kind. But it is so hard +to find an hour unoccupied, particularly with so many people in the +house, whom I ought to entertain." + +"That is very true, unless you can make it a source of entertainment to +them. Miss Benson--is she not a German scholar? She might like to +join you." + +Then, I think, the clever Sophie's mind was illuminated, and the tutor's +little scheme was revealed to her clear eye; she embraced it with +effusion. "An admirable idea," she said, "and the others, too, perhaps, +would join us if you would not mind. It would be one hour a day at least +secure from _ennui:_ I shall have great cause to thank you, if we can +arrange it. For these girls get so tired of doing nothing; my mind is +always on the strain to think of an amusement. Charlotte! Come here, I +want to ask you something." + +Charlotte Benson came, and with her came Henrietta. I was sitting on the +sofa between the parlor-doors, and could not help hearing the whole +conversation, as they were standing immediately before me. + +"Mr. Langenau proposes to us to read an hour a day with him in German. +What do you think about it?" + +"Charming," said Charlotte with enthusiasm. "I cannot think of anything +that would give me greater pleasure. Henrietta and I have read in German +together for two winters, and it will be enchanting to continue it with +such a master as Mr. Langenau." + +Henrietta murmured her satisfaction, and then Charlotte rushed into +plans for the course, leaving me in despair, supposing I had been +forgotten. What place I was to find in such advanced society I could not +well imagine. + +Mr. Langenau never turned his head in my direction, and talked with Miss +Benson with so much earnestness about the books into which they were to +plunge, that I could not convince myself that all this was undertaken +solely that he might teach me German. In a little while they seemed to +have settled it all to their satisfaction, and he had turned to go away. +My heart was in my throat. Mrs. Hollenbeck had not forgotten me. She +said something low to Mr. Langenau. + +"Ah, true!" he said. "But does she know anything of German?" Then +turning to me he said, with one of his dazzling sudden glances, "Miss +d'Estrée, we are talking of making up a German class; do you understand +the language?" + +"No," I said, meeting his eye for a moment, "I have only taken one +lesson in my life," and then blushed scarlet at my own audacity. + +"Ah," said he, as if quite sorry for the disappointment, "I wish you +were advanced enough to join us." + +Then Charlotte Benson, quite ignoring the interruption, began to ask him +about a book that she wanted very much to find. Mr. Langenau had it in +his room--a most happy accident, and there was a great deal said about +it. I again was left in doubt of my fate. Again Sophie interposed. "We +have forgotten Mary Leighton," she said, gently. + +"Does Miss Leighton know anything of German?" + +"Not a thing," said Henrietta. + +"What does she know anything of, but flirting?" said Charlotte with +asperity, glancing out into the grounds where Kilian was murmuring +softest folly to her under her pongee parasol. + +"Perhaps she'd like to learn," suggested Sophie. "She and Pauline might +begin together; that is, if Mr. Langenau would not think it too much +trouble to give them an occasional suggestion. And you, Charlotte, I am +sure, could help them a great deal." + +Charlotte made no disguise of her disinclination to undertake to help +them. + +Mr. Langenau expressed his willingness so unenthusiastically, that I +think Mrs. Hollenbeck was staggered. I saw her glance anxiously at him, +as if to know what really he might mean. She concluded to interpret +according to the context, however, and went on. + +"But it will be so much better for all to undertake it, if one does. +Suppose they try and see how it will work, either before or after +our lesson." + +"_De tout mon coeur_," said Mr. Langenau, as if, however, his _coeur_ +had very little interest in the matter. + +"Well, about the hour?" said Charlotte, the woman of business; "we +haven't settled that after all our talking." + +There was a great deal more, oh, a great deal more, and then it was +settled that five in the afternoon should be considered the German +hour--subject to alteration as circumstances should arise. + +Mrs. Hollenbeck very discreetly ordered that a beginning should not be +made till the next day but one. "The gentlemen will all be here +to-morrow, and there may be something else going on." I knew very well +she was afraid of Richard, and thought he would not approve her zeal for +our improvement. + +The first lesson was very dull work for me. It was agreed that Mary +Leighton and I should take our lesson after the others, sitting beside +them, however, for the benefit of such crumbs of information as might +fall to us. + +Mr. Langenau took no special notice of me then, and very little that +was flattering when Mary Leighton and I began our lesson proper. Mrs. +Hollenbeck, Charlotte, and Henrietta took up their books and left, when +the infant class was called. I do not think Mr. Langenau took great +pains to make the study of the German tongue of interest to Miss +Leighton. She was unspeakably bored, and never even learned the +alphabet. She was very much unused to mental application, undoubtedly, +and was annoyed at appearing dull. There was but one door open to her; +to vote German a bore, and give up the class. She made her exit by that +door on the occasion of the second lesson, and Mr. Langenau and I were +left to pursue our studies undisturbed. The rendezvous was the piazza in +fine weather, and the library when it was damp or cloudy. The fidelity +with which the senior Germans gathered up their books and left, when +their hour was over, was mainly due to the kind thoughtfulness of Mrs. +Hollenbeck, who was always prompt, and always found some excuse for +carrying away Charlotte and Henrietta with her when she went. + +It can be imagined what those hours were to me, those soft, golden +afternoons. Sometimes we took our books and went out under the trees to +some shaded seats, and sat there till the maid came out to call us in to +tea. Happy, happy hours in dreamland! But what peril to me, and perhaps +to him. It is vain to go over it all: it is enough that of all the happy +days, that hour from six o'clock till tea-time was the happiest: and +that with strange smoothness, day after day passed on without bringing +interruption to it. At six the others went to ride or walk; I was never +called, and did not even wonder at it. + +All this time Richard had been going every day to town and coming back +by the evening train. It was pretty tiresome work, and he looked rather +pale and worn; but I believe he could not stay away. I sometimes felt a +little sorry when I saw how much he was out of spirits, but I was in +such a happy realm myself, it did not depress me long: in truth, I +forgot it when he was not actually before me, and sometimes even then. +"I do not think you are listening to what I say," he said to me one +night as he sat by me in the parlor. I blushed desperately, and tried to +listen better. Ah! how often it happened after that. I blush again to +think how much I pained him, and how silently he bore it all. + +The last days of July were very busy ones in the Wall-street office, and +Richard did not give himself a holiday, till one Saturday, much to be +remembered, the very last day of the month. I recall with penitence, +the impatient feeling that I had when Richard told me he was going to +take the day at home. I felt intuitively that it would spoil it all for +me. After breakfast, we all played croquet, and then I shut myself into +my room with my German books, and selfishly saw no one till dinner. At +dinner I was excited and half frightened, as I always was when Mr. +Langenau and Richard were both present, and both watching me; it was +impossible to please either. + +Something was said about the afternoon, and Richard (who all this time +knew nothing of the German class) said to me, evidently afraid of some +other engagement being entered on, "I hope you will drive with me, +Pauline, at five. I ordered the horses when I was down at the stables; I +think the afternoon is going to be fine." It was rather a public way of +asking one out of so many to go and take a drive; but in truth, Richard +was too honest and straightforward to care who knew what he was in +pursuit of, and too sore at heart and too indifferent an actor to +conceal it if he had desired. But the invitation struck me with such +consternation. At five o'clock! The flower and consummation of the day! +The hour that I had been looking forward to, since seven the day before. +I could not lose it. I would not go to drive. I hated Richard. I hated +going to drive. I grew very brave, and was on the point of saying that +I could not go, when I caught Sophie's eye. She made me a quick sign, +which I dared not disobey. I blushed crimson, and did not lift my eyes +again, but said in a low voice that I would go. Then my heart seemed to +turn to lead, and all the glory and pleasure of the day was gone. It +seemed to me of such vast importance, of such endless duration, this +penance that I was to undergo. O lovers! Foolish, foolish men and women! +I was like a child balked of its holiday; I wanted to cry--I longed to +get away by myself. I did not dare to look at any one. + +Mr. Langenau excused himself, and left the table before the others went +away. As we were leaving the table, Sophie, passing close by me, said +quite low, "I would not say anything about the German class, Pauline. +And it was a great deal better that you should go; you know Richard has +not many holidays." + +"Yes, but you don't give up all your pleasures for him," I thought, but +did not say. + +I went quickly to my room, and saw no one till I came down-stairs at +five o'clock. I had on a veil, for my face was rather flushed, and my +eyes somewhat the worse for crying. Richard was waiting for me at the +foot of the stairs, and accompanied me silently to the wagon, which +stood at the door. As we passed the parlor I could see, on the east +piazza, Mr. Langenau and Charlotte already at their books. Both were so +engrossed that they did not look up as we went through the hall. For +that, Richard, poor fellow! had to suffer. I was too unreasonable to +comprehend that Mr. Langenau's absorbed manner was a covering for his +pique. It was enough torture to have to lose my lesson, without seeing +him engrossed with some one else, whose fate was happier than mine. +Perhaps, after all, he was fascinated by Charlotte Benson. She was +bright, clever, and understood him so well. She admired him so much. She +was, I was sure, half in love with him. (The day before I had concluded +she liked Richard very much.) That was a very disagreeable drive. I +complained of the heat. The sun hurt my eyes. + +"We can go back, if you desire it," said Richard, with a shade of +sternness in his voice, stopping the horses suddenly, after two miles of +what would have been ill-temper if we had been married, but was now +perhaps only petulance. + +"I don't desire it," I said, quite frightened, "but I do wish we could +go a little faster till we get into the shade." + +After that, there was naturally very little pleasure in conversation. I +felt angry with Richard and ashamed of myself. For him, I am afraid his +feelings were very bitter, and his silence the cover of a sore heart. We +had started to take a certain drive; we both wished it over, I suppose, +but both lacked courage to shorten it, or go home before we were +expected. There was a brilliant sunset, but I am sure we did not see it: +then the clouds gathered and the twilight came on, and we were +nearly home. + +"Pauline," said Richard, hoarsely, not looking at me, and insensibly +slackening the hold he had upon the reins; "will you let me say +something to you? I want to give you some advice, if you will listen +to me." + +"I don't want anybody to advise me," I said in alarm, "and I don't know +what right you have to expect me to listen to you, Richard, unless it is +that I am your guest; and I shouldn't think that was any reason why I +should be made to listen to what isn't pleasant to me." + +The horses started forward, from the sudden emphasis of Richard's pull +upon the reins; and that was all the answer that I had to my most +unjustifiable words. Not a syllable was spoken after that; and in a few +moments we were at the house. Richard silently handed me out; if I had +been thinking about him I should have been frightened at the expression +of his face, but I was not: I was only thinking--that we were at home, +and that I was going to have the happiness of meeting Mr. Langenau. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SOPHIE'S WORK. + + A nature half transformed, with qualities + That oft betrayed each other, elements + Not blent, but struggling, breeding strange effects + Passing the reckoning of his friends or foes. + + _George Eliot_. + + + High minds of native pride and force + Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse! + Fear for their scourge, mean villains have, + Thou art the torturer of the brave. + + _Scott_. + + +This was what Sophie had done: she had invoked forces that she could not +control, and she felt, as people are apt to feel when they watch their +monster growing into strength, a little frightened and a little sorry. +No doubt it had seemed to her a very small thing, to favor the folly of +a girl of seventeen, fascinated by the voice and manner of a nameless +stranger; it was a folly most manifest, but she had nothing to do with +it, and was not responsible; a very small thing to allow, and to +encourage what, doubtless, she flattered herself, her discouragement +could not have subdued. It was very natural that she should not wish +Richard to many any one; she was not more selfish than most sisters are. +Most sisters do not like to give their brothers up. She would have to +give up her home (one of her homes, that is,) as well. She did not think +Richard's choice a wise one: she was not subject to the fascination of +outline and coloring that had subjugated him, and she felt sincerely +that she was the best judge. If Richard must marry (though in thinking +of her own married life, she could not help wondering why he must), let +him marry a woman who had fortune, or position, or talent. Of course +there was a chance that this one might have money, but that would be +according to the caprice of a selfish old man, who had never been known +to show any affection for her. + +But money was not what Richard wanted: his sister knew much better what +Richard wanted, than he knew himself. He wanted a clever woman, a woman +who would keep him before the world and rouse him into a little ambition +about what people thought of him. Sophie was disappointed and a little +frightened when she found that Richard did not give up the outline and +coloring pleasantly. She had thought he would be disillusionized, when +he found he was thrown over for a German tutor, who could sing. She had +not counted upon seeing him look ill and worn, and finding him stern and +silent to her; to her, of whom he had always been so fond. She found he +was taking the matter very seriously, and she almost wished that she had +not meddled with the matter. + +And this German tutor--who could sing--well, it was strange, but he was +the worst feature of her Frankenstein, and the one at which she felt +most sorry and most frightened. Richard was very bad, to be sure, but he +would no doubt get over it: and if it all came out well, she would be +the gainer. As to "this girl for whom his heart was sick," she had no +manner of patience with her or pity for her. + +"She must suffer: so do all;" she would undoubtedly have a hard future, +no matter to which of these men who were so absurd about her, Fate +finally accorded her: hard, if she married Richard without loving him +(nobody knew better than Sophie how hard that sort of marriage was); +hard, if she married the German, to suffer a lifetime of poverty and +ill-temper and jealous fury. But about all that, Sophie did not care a +straw. She knew how much women could live through, and it seemed to be +their business to be wretched. + +But this man! And she could not gain anything by what he suffered, with +his dangerous nature, his ungovernable jealousy, his possibly involved +and unknown antecedents; what was to become of him, in case he could not +have this girl of whom six weeks ago he had not heard? A pretty +candidate to present to "mon oncle" of the Wall-street office, for the +hand of the young lady trusted to their hospitality--a very pretty +candidate--a German tutor--who could sing. If he took her, it was to be +feared he would have to take her without more dowry than some very heavy +imprecations. But could he take her, even thus? Sophie had some very +strange misgivings. This man was desperately unhappy: was suffering +frightfully: it made her heart ache to see the haggard lines deepening +on his face, to see his colorless lips and restless eyes. She was sorry +for him, as a woman is apt to be sorry for a fascinating man. And then +she was frightened, for he was "no carpet knight so trim," to whom +cognac, and cigars, and time would be a balm: this man was essentially +dramatic, a dangerous character, an article with which she was +unfamiliar. He was frantic about this silly girl: that was plain to see. +Why then was he so wretched, seeing she was as irrationally in love +with him? + +"If it only comes out right," she sighed distrustfully many times a day. +She resolved never to interfere with anything again, but it came rather +late, seeing she probably had done the greatest mischief that she ever +would be permitted to have a hand in while she lived. She made up her +mind not to think anything about it, but, unfortunately for that plan, +she could not get out of sight of her work. If she had been a man, she +would probably have gone to the Adirondacks. But being a woman she had +to stay at home, and sit down among the tangled skeins which she had not +skill to straighten. + +"If it only comes out right," she sighed again, the evening of that most +uncomfortable drive, "If it only comes out right." But it did not look +much like it. + +I had gone directly in to tea, and so had Richard. Richard's face +silenced and depressed everybody at the table; and Mr. Langenau did +not come. + +"There is going to be a terrible shower," said some one, and before the +sentence was ended, there was a vivid flash of lightning that made the +candles pale. + +"How rapidly it has come up," said Sophie. "Was the sky black when you +came in, Richard?" + +"I do not know," said Richard, and nobody doubted that he told the +truth. + +"It had begun to darken before we came up from the river." said +Charlotte Benson. "The clouds were rising rapidly as we came in. It +will be a fearful tempest." + +"Are the windows all shut?" said Sophie to the servant. + +"I should think so," exclaimed Kilian. "The heat is horrid." + +"Yes, it is suffocating," said Richard, getting up. + +As he went out of the dining-room, some one, I think Henrietta, said, +"Well, I hope Mr. Langenau will get in safely; he was out on the river +when we were on the hill." + +The storm was so sudden and so furious that everybody was concerned at +hearing this; even Kilian made some exclamation of alarm. + +"Does he know anything about a boat?" he asked of Richard, who had +paused in the doorway, hearing what was said. + +"I have no idea," said Richard, shortly, but he did not go away. + +"It isn't the sail-boat that he has, of course," said Kilian, +thoughtfully. "He always goes out to row, I believe." + +"Why, no," said Charlotte Benson, "he's in the sail-boat; don't you +remember saying, Henrietta, how bright the gleam of the sunset was on +the sail, and all the water was so dark?" + +Kilian came to his feet very suddenly at these words. + +"That's a bad business," he said quickly to his brother. "I've no idea +he can manage her in such a squall." + +Sophie gave a little scream, and Charlotte and Henrietta both grew very +pale, as a frightful shock of thunder followed. The wind was furious, +and the unfastened shutters in various parts of the house sounded like +so many reports of pistols, and in an instant the whole force of the +rain fell suddenly and at once upon the windows. Somewhere some glass +was shattered, and all these sounds added to the sense of danger, and +the darkness was so great and so sudden, that it was difficult to +realize that half an hour before, the sunset could have whitened the +sails of a boat upon the river. + +"I'm afraid it's too late to do much now," said Kilian, stopping in +front of his brother in the doorway. + +"What's the use of talking in that way," returned Richard in a hoarse, +low voice. "If you hav'nt more sense than to talk so before women, you +can stay at home with them," he continued, striding across the hall, and +picking up a lantern that stood in a corner near the door. Charlotte +Benson caught up one of the candles from the table, and ran to him and +lit the lamp within the lantern. Sophie threw a cloak over Kilian's +shoulders, and Henrietta flew to carry a message to the kitchen. Richard +pulled a bell that was a signal to the stable (the stable was very near +the house), and in almost a moment's time two men, beside Kilian, were +following him out into the tempest. We saw their lanterns flicker for an +instant, and then they were swallowed up in the darkness. The fury of +the storm increased every moment. The flashes of lightning were but a +few seconds apart, and the roll of thunder was incessant. Every few +moments, above this continued roar, would come an appalling crash which +sounded just above our heads. The children were screaming with fear, the +servants had come into the hall and seemed in a helpless sort of panic. +Sophie was very pale and Mary Leighton clung hysterically to her. +Charlotte Benson was the only one who seemed to be self-possessed enough +to have done anything, if there had been anything to do. But there was +not. All we could do was to try to behave ourselves with fortitude in +view of the personal danger, and with composure in view of that of +others. Presently there came a lull in the tempest, and we began to +breathe freer; some one went to the door and opened it. A gust of cold +wind swept through the hall and put out the lamp, at which the children +and Mary Leighton renewed their cries of fright. + +The respite in the tempest was but temporary; before the lamp was relit +and order restored, the storm had burst again upon us. This was, if +anything, fiercer, but shorter lived. After fifteen or twenty minutes' +rage, it subsided almost utterly, and we could hear it taking itself off +across the heavens. I suppose the whole storm, from its beginning to its +end, had not occupied more than three quarters of an hour, but it had +seemed much longer. + +We were very glad to open the door and let the cool, damp air into the +hall. The children were taken up-stairs, consoled with the promise that +word should be sent to them when their uncles should return. The +servants went feebly off to their domain; one was sent to sweep the +piazza, for the rain had beaten in such torrents upon it that it was +impossible to walk there, till it should be brushed away. Wrapped in +their shawls, Henrietta and Charlotte Benson walked up and down the +space that the servant swept, and watched and listened for a long +half-hour. I took a cloak from the rack and, leaning against the +door-post, stood and listened silently. + +From the direction of the river there was nothing to be heard. There was +still distant thunder, but that was the only sound, that and the +dripping of the rain off the leaves of the drenched trees. The wind was +almost silent, and in the spaces of the broken clouds there were +occasional faint stars. A fine, young tree, uprooted by the tempest, lay +across the carriage-way before the house, its topmost branches resting +on the steps of the piazza: the grass was strewed with leaves like +autumn, and the paths were simply pools of water. Sophie, more than +once, came to the door, and begged us to come in, for fear of the +dampness and the cold, but no one heeded her suggestion. Even she +herself came out very often, and looked and listened anxiously. Finally +my ear caught a sound: I ran down the steps, and bent forward eagerly. +There was some one coming along the garden-path that led up from the +river. I could hear the water plashing as he walked, and he was coming +rapidly. In a moment the others heard it too, and starting to the steps, +stood still, and waited breathlessly. He had no lantern, for we could +have seen that; he was almost at the steps before I could recognize him. +It was Richard. I gave a smothered cry, and springing forward, held out +my hands to stop him. + +"Tell me what has happened." He put aside my hands, and went past me +without a second look. + +"There has nothing happened, but what he can tell you when he comes," +he said, as he strode past me up the steps, and on into the house. Then +he was alive to tell me: the reaction was a little too strong for me, +and I sat down on the steps to try and recover myself, for I was ill +and giddy. + +In a few moments more, more steps sounded in the distance, this time +slowly, several persons coming together. I started and ran up the steps, +I don't exactly know why, and stood behind the others, who were crowding +down, servants and all, to hear what was the news. Kilian came first, +very drenched, and spattered, and subdued looking, then Mr. Langenau, +leaning upon one of the men, very pale, but making an attempt to smile +and speak reassuringly to Sophie, who met him with looks of great alarm. +It evidently gave him dreadful pain to move, and when he reached the +house he was quite faint. Charlotte Benson placed a chair, into which +they supported him. + +"Run, Pauline, and get some brandy," said Sophie, putting a bunch of +keys into my hand without looking at me. + +When I came back with the glass of brandy, he was conscious again, and +looked at me and took the glass from my hand. The other man had been +sent for the doctor from the village, who was expected every moment, +and Mr. Langenau, who was now revived by stimulants, was quite +reassuring, and attempted to laugh at us for being so much frightened. +Then the young ladies' curiosity got the better of their terror, and +they clamored for the history of the past two hours. This history was +given them principally by Kilian. I cannot repeat it satisfactorily, for +the reason that I don't know anything about jibs, and bowsprits, and +masts, and centre-boards, and I did not understand it at the time; but I +received enough out of the mass of evidence presented in that language, +to be sure that there had been considerable danger, and that everybody +had behaved well. In fact, Kilian's changed manner toward the tutor of +itself was quite enough to show that he had behaved unexpectedly well. + +The unvarnished and unbowspritted and unjib-boomed tale was pretty much +as follows: Mr. Langenau had found himself in the middle of the river, +when the storm came on. I am afraid he could not have been thinking very +much about the clouds, not to have noticed that a storm was rising; +though every one agreed that they had never known anything like the +rapidity of its coming up. Before he knew what he was about, a squall +struck him, and he had great difficulty to right the boat. (Then +followed a good deal about luffing and tacking and keeping her taut to +windward; that is, I think that was where he wanted to keep her.) But +whatever it was, he didn't succeed in doing it, and Kilian vouchsafed to +say nobody could have done it. Then something split: I really cannot say +whether it was the mast, or the bowsprit, or the centre-board, but +whatever it was, it hurt Mr. Langenau so much that for a moment he was +stunned. And then Kilian cannot see why he wasn't drowned. When he came +to himself he was still holding the rudder in his hand. + +The other arm was useless from the falling of--this thing that +split--upon it. And so the boat was floundering about in the gale till +it got righted, and it was Mr. Langenau's presence of mind that saved +him and the boat, for he never let go the rudder, and controlled her as +far as he could, though he did not know where he was going, the +blackness was so great, and the flashes did not show him the shore; and +he was like one placed in the midst of a frightful sea wakened out of a +dream, owing to the blow and the unconsciousness which followed. + +Then Richard came upon the stage as hero; he and one of the men had gone +out in the only boat at hand, a very small one, toward the speck, which, +by the flashes of lightning, he saw out upon the river. It was almost +impossible to overhaul her, and it could not have been done at the rate +she was going, of course; but then occurred that accident which rendered +Mr. Langenau unconscious, and which brought things to a standstill for a +moment. Kalian said we did not know anything about the storm up here at +the house; that more than one tree had been struck within a few feet of +him on the shore. The river was surging; the wind was furious; no one +could imagine what it was who had not witnessed it, and he, for his +part, never expected to see Richard come back to land. But Richard did +come back, and brought back the disabled sail-boat and the injured man. +That was the end of the story; which thrilled us all very much, as we +knew the heroes, and had one of them before us, ghastly pale but +uncomplaining. + +It seemed as if the doctor never would come! We were women, and we +naturally looked to the coming of the doctor as the end of all the +trouble. It was impossible to make the poor fellow comfortable. He could +not lie down, he could not move without excruciating pain, and very +frequently he grew quite faint. Charlotte Benson and Sophie administered +stimulants; endeavored to ease his position with pillows and footstools; +and did all the nameless soothing acts that efficient and good nurses +alone understand; while I, paralyzed and mute, stood aside, scarcely +able to bear the sight of his sufferings. I am sorry to say, I don't +think he cared at all to have me by him. He was in such pain that he +cared only for the attendance of those who could alleviate it in a +measure; and the strong firm hand and the skilled touch were more to him +than the presence of one who had nothing but excited and unavailing +sympathy to offer. It was rather a stern fact walking into my +dreamland, this. + +By and bye Kilian went away to take off his wet clothes, and he did not +come back again, but sent down a message to his sister that he was very +tired and should go to bed, but if he were wanted for anything he could +be called. This was not heroic of Kilian, but, after the manner of men, +he was apt to keep away from the sight of disagreeable things. + +After all, he could not do much good, but it was something to feel there +was a man to call upon, besides Patrick, who was stupid; and I saw +Charlotte Benson's lip curl when Kilian's message was brought down. + +Richard was in his room: we all thought he had done enough for one +night, and had a right to rest. + +At last, after the most weary waiting, wheels were heard, and the doctor +drove up to the door. The servants had begun to look very sleepy. Mary +Leighton had slipped away to her room, and Sophie had told Henrietta +and me to go, for we were really of no earthly use. We did not take her +advice as a compliment, and did not go. Henrietta opened the door for +the doctor, which was doing something though not much, as two of the +maids stood prepared to do it if she did not. + +The doctor was a reassuring, quiet man, and became a pillar of strength +at once. After talking a few moments with Mr. Langenau, and pulling and +twisting him rather ruthlessly, he walked a little away with Sophie, and +told her he wanted him got at once to his room, and he should need the +assistance of one of the gentlemen. Would not Patrick do? Besides +Patrick. Mr. Langenau's shoulder was dislocated, badly, and it must be +set at once. It was a painful operation and he needed help. I was within +hearing of this, and I was in great alarm. Sophie looked so too, and I +don't think she liked disagreeable things any better than her brother, +but she was a woman, and could not shirk them as he could. + +"Pauline," she said, finding me at her side as she turned, "run up and +tell Richard that he must come down, quick. Tell him how it is, and that +he must make haste." + +I ran up the stairs breathlessly, but feeling all the time that it was +rather hard that I must be sent to Richard with this message. Sophie did +not want to ask him to come down herself, and she thought me the most +likely ambassador to bring him, but it was not a congenial embassy. +Perhaps, however, she only asked me because I happened to be nearest +her, and she was rather upset by what the doctor said. + +I knocked at Richard's door. + +"Well?" + +"Oh, they want you to come down-stairs a minute. There's something to be +done," panting and rather incoherent. + +"What is to be done?" + +"The Doctor's here, and he says he must have help." + +"Where's Kilian?" + +"Gone to bed." + +Some suppressed ejaculation, and he pushed back his chair, and rose, and +came across the room: at least it sounded so, and I ran down the stairs +again. He followed me in a moment. The Doctor came forward and talked to +him a little while, and then Richard called Patrick, and told Sophie to +see that Mr. Langenau's room was ready. + +"How can he get up two pairs of stairs," said Charlotte Benson, "when +he cannot move an inch without such suffering?" + +"That's very true," the Doctor said. "I doubt if he could bear it. You +have no room below?" + +"Put a bed in the library," said Charlotte Benson, and in ten minutes it +was done; the servants no longer sleepy when they had any definite order +to fulfill. + +"In the meantime," said Richard to his sister, "send those two to bed," +pointing out Henrietta and me. + +"I've told them to go, but they won't," said Sophie, somewhat sharply. + +Henrietta walked off, rather injured, but I would not go. + +Mr. Langenau had another faint attack, and I was quite certain he would +die. Charlotte was making him breathe _sal volatile_ and Sophie ran to +rub his hands. The Doctor was busy at the light about something. + +"The room is all ready," said the servant. + +"Very well; now Mr. Richard, if you please," the Doctor said. + +"Pauline," said Richard, coming to me as I stood at the foot of the +balusters, "You can't do any good. You'd better go up-stairs." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, "I think you're very cruel; I think you might +let me stay." + +I suppose my wretchedness, and youthfulness, and folly softened him +again, and he said, very gently, "I don't mean to be unkind, but it is +best for you to go. You need not be so frightened: there isn't +any danger." + +I moved slowly to obey him, but turned back and caught his hand and +whispered, "You won't let them hurt him, Richard?" and then ran up the +stairs. No doubt Richard thought I went to my own room; but I spent the +next hour on the landing-place, looking down into the hall. + +It was rather a serious matter, getting Mr. Langenau even into the +library, and it was well they had not attempted his own room. Patrick +was called, and with his assistance and Richard's, he began to move +across the hall. But half-way to the library-door, he fainted dead away, +and Richard carried him and laid him on the bed, Patrick being worse +than useless, having lost his head, and the Doctor being a small man, +and only strong in science. + +Pretty soon the library-door closed, and Sophie and Charlotte were +excluded. They walked about the hall, talking in low tones, and looking +anxious. Later, there came groaning from within the closed door, and +Charlotte Benson wrung her hands and listened. The groans continued for +a long while: the misery of hearing them! After a while they ceased: +then Richard opened the door, hastily, it seemed, and called "Sophie." + +Sophie ran forward, and the door closed again. There was a long silence, +time enough for those who were outside to imagine all manner of horrid +possibilities. Then the Doctor and Richard came out. + +"How is he, Doctor?" said Charlotte Benson, bravely, going to meet them, +while I hung trembling over the landing-place. + +"Oh better, better, very comfortable," said the Doctor, in his calm +professional tone. + +I could not help thinking those groans had not denoted a very high state +of comfort; but maybe the Doctor knew best how people with dislocated +shoulders and broken ribs are apt to express their sentiments of +satisfaction. + +I listened with more than interest to their plans for the night: the +Doctor was going away at once; two of the servants and Patrick were to +relieve each other in sitting by him, while Richard was to throw himself +on the sofa in the hall, to be at hand if anything were needed. + +"Which means, that you are to be awake all night," said Charlotte +Benson. "You have more need of rest than we. Let Sophie and me take +your place." + +Richard looked gratefully and kindly at her, but refused. The Doctor +assured them again that there was no reason for anxiety; that Richard +would probably be undisturbed all night; that he himself would come +early in the morning. Then Richard came toward the stairs, and I escaped +to my own room. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS. + + The fiend whose lantern lights the mead, + Were better mate than I! + + _Scott_. + + Fools, when they cannot see their way, + At once grow desperate, + Have no resource--have nothing to propose-- + But fix a dull eye of dismay + Upon the final close. + Success to the stout heart, say I, + That sees its fate, and can defy! + + _Faust_. + + +Two weeks later, and things had not stood still; they rarely do, when +there is so much at hand, and ripe for mischief; seventeen does not take +up the practice of wisdom voluntarily. I do not think I was very +different from other girls of seventeen, and I cannot blame myself very +much that I spent all these days in a dream of bliss and folly; how +could it have been otherwise, situated exactly as we were? This is the +way our days were passed. Mr. Langenau was better, but still not able to +leave his room. He was the hero, as a matter of course, and little +besides his sufferings, his condition, and his prospects, was talked of +at the table; which had the effect of making Kilian stay away two nights +out of three, and of alienating Richard altogether. Richard went to town +on Monday morning after the accident occurred, and it was now Friday of +the following week, and he had not come back. + +It was a little dull for Mary Leighton and for Henrietta, perhaps; +possibly for Charlotte Benson, but she did not seem to mind it much; and +I had never found R---- so enchanting as that fortnight. Charlotte +Benson liked to be Florence Nightingale in little, it was very plain; +and naturally nothing made me so happy as to be permitted to minister to +the wants of the (it must be confessed) frequently unreasonable +sufferer. For the first few days, while he was confined to his bed, of +course Charlotte and I were obliged to content ourselves with the +sending of messages, the arranging of bouquets, the concocting of soups +and jellies, and all the other coddling processes at our command. But +when Mr. Langenau was able to sit up, Sophie (at the instance of +Charlotte Benson, for she seemed to have renounced diplomacy herself,) +arranged that the bed should be taken away during the daytime, and +brought back again at night, and that Mr. Langenau should lie on the +sofa through the day. This made it possible for us to be in the room, +even without Sophie, though we began to think her presence necessary. +That scruple was soon done away with, for it laid too great a tax on +her, and restricted our attentions very much. The result was, we passed +nearly the whole day beside him; Mary Leighton and Henrietta very often +of the party, and Sophie occasionally looking in upon us. Sometimes when +Charlotte Benson, as ranking officer, decreed that the patient needed +rest, we took our books and work and went to the piazza, outside the +window of his room. + +He would have been very tired of us, if he had not been very much in +love with one of us. As it was, it must have been a kind of fool's +paradise in which he lived, five pretty women fluttering about him, +offering the prettiest homage, and one of them the woman for whom, +wisely or foolishly, rightly or wrongly, he had conceived so violent +a passion. + +As soon as he was out of pain and began to recover the tone of his +nerves at all, I saw that he wanted me beside him more than ever, and +that Charlotte Benson, with all her skill and cleverness, was as nothing +to him in comparison. No doubt he dissembled this with care; and was +very graceful and very grateful and infinitely interesting. His moods +were very varying, however; sometimes he seemed struggling with the most +unconquerable depression, then we were all so sorry for him; sometimes +he was excited and brilliant; then we were all thrilled with admiration. +And not unfrequently he was irritable and quite morose and sullen. And +then we pitied, and admired, and feared him _à la fois_. I am sure no +man more fitted to command the love and admiration of women ever lived. + +Charlotte Benson with great self-devotion had insisted upon teaching the +children for two hours every day, so that Mr. Langenau might not be +annoyed at the thought that they were losing time, and that Sophie might +not be inconvenienced. It was the least that she could do, she reasoned, +after the many lessons that Mr. Langenau had given us, with so much +kindness, and without accepting a return. Henrietta volunteered for the +service, also, and from eleven to one every day the boys were caught and +caged, and made to drink at the fountain of learning; or rather to +approach that fountain, of which forty Charlottes and Henriettas could +not have made them drink. + +At that time Charlotte always decreed that Mr. Langenau should lie on +the sofa and go to sleep. The windows were darkened, and the room was +cleared of visitors. On this Friday morning, nearly two weeks after the +accident, as I was following Sophie from the room (Charlotte having gone +with Henrietta to capture the children), Mr. Langenau called after me +rather imperiously, "Miss d'Estrée--Miss Pauline--" + +It had been a stormy session, and I turned back with misgivings. Sophie +shrugged her shoulders and went away toward the dining-room. + +"What are you going away for, may I ask?" he said, as I appeared before +him humbly. + +"Why, you know you ought to lie down and to rest," I tried to say with +discretion, but it was all one what I said: it would have irritated him +just the same. + +"I am rather tired of this surveillance," he exclaimed. "It is almost +time I should be permitted to express a wish about the disposition of +myself. As I do not happen to want to go to sleep, I beg I may be +allowed the pleasure of your society for a little while." + +"I don't think it would give you much pleasure, and you know you don't +feel as well to-day." + +"Again, may I be permitted to judge how I feel myself?" + +"Oh, yes, of course, but--" + +"But what, Miss d'Estrée?--No doubt you want to go yourself--I am sorry +I thought of detaining you (with a gesture of dismissal). I beg you to +excuse me, A sick man is apt to be unreasonable." + +"Oh, as to that, you know entirely well I do not want to go. You are +unreasonable, indeed, when you talk as you do now. I only went away for +your benefit." + +"_Qui s'excuse, s'accuse_." + +"But I am not excusing myself; and if you put it so I will go away at +once." + +"_Si vous voulez_--" + +"But I don't '_voulez_'--Oh, how disagreeable you can be." + +"You will stay?" + +"Pauline!" called Sophie from across the hall. + +"There!" I exclaimed, interpreting it as the voice of conscience. I left +my work-basket and book upon the table, and went out of the room. + +"You called me?" I said, following her into the parlor, where, shutting +the door, she motioned me to a seat beside her. She had a slip of paper +and an envelope in her hand, and seemed a little ill at ease. + +"I've just had a telegram from Richard," she said. "He's coming home +to-night by the eleven o'clock train. It's so odd altogether. I don't +know why he's coming. But you may as well read his message yourself," +she said with a forced manner, handing me the paper. It was as follows: + +Send carriage for me to eleven-thirty train to-night. Remember my +injunctions, our last conversation, and your promises." + +"Well?" I said, looking up, bewildered and not violently interested, for +I was secretly listening to the quick shutting of the library-door. + +"Why, you see," she returned, with a forced air of confidence that made +me involuntarily shrink from her; I think she even laid her hand upon my +sleeve, or made some gesture of familiarity which was unusual-- + +"You see, that last conversation was--about you. Richard is annoyed +at--at your intimacy with Mr. Langenau. You know just as well as I do +how he feels, for no doubt he's spoken to you himself." + +"He never has," I said, quite shortly. + +"No?" and she looked rather chagrined. "Well--but at all events you know +how he feels. Girls ar'nt slow generally to find out about those things. +And he is really very unhappy about it, very. I wish, Pauline, you'd +give it up, child. It's gone quite far enough; now don't you think so +yourself? Mr. Langenau isn't the sort of man to be serious about, you +know. It's all very well, just for a summer's amusement. But, you know, +you mustn't go too far. I'm sure, dear, you're not angry with me: now +you understand just what I mean, don't you?" + +No: not angry, certainly not angry. She went on, still with the +impertinent touch upon my arm: "Richard made me promise that I would +look after you, and not permit things to go too far. And you +see--well--I'll tell you in confidence what I think his coming to-night +means, and his message and all. I think--that is, I am afraid--he's +found out something against Mr. Langenau since he's been away. I know he +never has felt confidence in him. But I've always thought, perhaps that +was because he was--well--a little jealous and suspicious. You know men +are so apt to be suspicious; and I was sure, when he went away that last +Monday morning, that he would not leave a stone unturned in finding out +everything about him. It is that that's kept him, I am sure. Don't let +that make you feel hardly toward Richard," she went on, noticing perhaps +my look; "you know it's only natural, and besides, it's right. How would +he answer to your uncle?" + +"It is I who should answer to my uncle," I returned, under my breath. + +"Yes, but you are in our house, in our care. You know, my dear child, +you are very young and very inexperienced; you don't know how very +careful people have to be." + +"Why don't you talk that way to Charlotte and Henrietta and Mary +Leighton? Have I done anything so very different from them?" I answered, +with a blaze of spirit. + +"No, dear," she said, with a little laugh, "only there are one or two +men very much in love with you, and that makes everything so different." + +I blushed scarlet, and was silenced instantly, as she intended. + +"Now, maybe I am mistaken about his having discovered something," she +went on, "but I can't make anything else out of Richard's message. He is +not one to send off such a despatch without a reason. Evidently he is +very uneasy; and I thought it was best to be perfectly frank with you, +dear, and I know you'll do me the justice to say I have been, if Richard +ever says anything to you about it. You mustn't blame me, you know, for +the way he feels. I wish the whole thing was at an end," she said, with +the first touch of sincerity. "And now promise me one thing," with +another caressing movement of the hand, "Promise me, you won't go into +the library again till Richard comes, and we hear what he has to say. +Just for my sake, you know, my dear, for you see he would blame me if I +did not keep a strict surveillance. You won't mind doing that, I'm +sure, for me?" + +"I shall not promise anything," I returned, getting up, "but I am not +likely to go near the library after what you've said." + +"That's a good child," she said, evidently much relieved, and thinking +that the affair was very near its end. I opened the door, and she added: +"Now go up-stairs, and rest yourself, for you look as if you had a +headache, and don't think of anything that's disagreeable." That was a +good prescription, but I did not take it. + +Of course, I did not go near the library; that was understood. After +dinner, the servant brought in Mr. Langenau's tray untouched, and +Charlotte Benson started up, and ran in to see what was the matter. +Sophie went too, looking a little troubled. I think they were both +snubbed: for ten minutes after, when I met Charlotte in the hall, she +had an unusual flush upon her cheek, and Sophie I found standing at one +of the parlor-windows, biting her lip, and tapping impatiently upon the +carpet. Evidently the affair was not as near its placid end as she had +hoped. She started a little when she saw me, and tried to look +unruffled. + +"How sultry it is this afternoon!" she said. "Are you going up to your +room to take a rest? stop in my room on your way, I want to show you +those embroideries that I was telling Charlotte Benson of last night." + +"I did not hear you, and I do not know anything about them," I said, +feeling not at all affectionate. + +"No? Oh, I forgot: it was while you and Henrietta were sitting in the +library, and Charlotte and I were walking up and down the piazza while +it rained. Why, they are some heavenly sets that I got this spring from +Paris--Marshall picked them up one day at the _Bon Marché_--and verily +they are _bon marché_. I never saw anything so cheap, and I was telling +Charlotte that some of you might just as well have part of them, for I +never could use the half. Come up and look them over." + +Now I loved "heavenly sets" as well as most women, but dress was not the +bait for me at that moment. So I said my head ached and I could not look +at them then, if she'd excuse me; and I went silently away to my room, +not caring at all if she were pleased or not. I disliked and distrusted +her more and more every moment, and she seemed to me so mean: for I knew +all her worry came from the apprehension of what she might have to fear +from Richard, not the thought of the suffering that he or that any one +else endured. + +It was a long afternoon, but it reached its end, after the manner of +all afternoons on record, even those of Marianna. When I came +down-stairs they were all at tea and Kilian had arrived. A more +enlivening atmosphere prevailed, and the invalid was not discussed. A +drive was being canvassed. There was an early moon, and Kilian proposed +driving Tom and Jerry before the open wagon, which would carry four, +through the valley-road, to be back by half-past nine or ten o'clock. + +"But what am I to do," cried Kilian, "when there are five angels, and I +have only room for three?" + +"Why, two will have to stay at home, according to my arithmetic," said +Charlotte, good-naturedly, "and I've no doubt I shall be remainder." + +"If you stay, I shall stay with you," said Henrietta, dropping the +metaphor, for metaphors, even the mildest, were beyond her reach +of mind. + +Everybody wanted to stay, and everybody tried to be quite firm; but as +no one's firmness but mine was based on inclination, the result was that +Sophie and I were "remainder," and Mary Leighton, Charlotte, and +Henrietta drove away with Kilian quite jauntily, at half-past seven +o'clock. But before she went, Charlotte, who was really good-natured +with all her sharpness and self-will, went into the library to speak to +Mr. Langenau, and to show she did not resent the noonday slight, +whatever that had been. But presently she came back looking rather +anxious, and said to Sophie, ignoring me (whom she always did ignore if +possible), + +"Do go and see what you can do for Mr. Langenau. He is really very far +from well. His tea stands there, and he hasn't taken anything to eat. He +looks feverish and excited, and I truly think he ought to see the +Doctor. You know he promised the Doctor to stay in his room, and keep +still all the rest of the week. But I am sure he means to come out +to-morrow, and he even talks of going down to town. It will kill him if +he does; I'm sure he's doing badly, and I wish you'd go and see to him." + +"Does he know Richard is coming up to-night?" asked Sophie, _sotto +voce_, but with affected carelessness. + +"I do not know; oh yes, he does, I mentioned it to him at dinner-time, I +remember now." + +"Well, I'll see if I can do anything for him; now go, they're waiting +for you. Have a pleasant time." + +After they were gone, Sophie went into the library, but she did not stay +very long. She came and sat beside me on the river-balcony, and talked a +little, desultorily and absent-mindedly. + +Presently there was a call for "mamma," a hubbub and a hurry--soon +explained. Charley, who had been running wild for the last two weeks, +without tutor or uncle to control him, had just fallen from the mow, and +hurt himself somewhat, and frightened himself much more. The whole house +was in a ferment. He was taken to mamma's room, for he was a great baby +when anything was the matter with him, and would not let mamma move an +inch away from him. After assisting to the best of my ability in making +him comfortable, and seeing myself only in the way, I went down-stairs +again, and took my seat upon the balcony that overlooked the river. + +The young moon was shining faintly, and the air was soft and balmy. The +house was very still; the servants, I think, were all in a distant part +of the house, or out enjoying the moonlight and the idleness of evening. +Sophie was nailed to Charley's bed up-stairs, trying to soothe him; +Benny was sinking to sleep in his little crib. It seemed like an +enchanted palace, and when I heard a step crossing the parlor, it made +me start with a vague feeling of alarm. The parlor-window by me, which +opened to the floor, was not closed, and in another moment some one came +out and stood beside me. It was Mr. Langenau. I started up and +exclaimed, "Mr. Langenau, how imprudent! Oh, go back at once." + +He seemed weak, and his hand shook as he leaned against the casement, +but his eyes were glittering with a feverish excitement. He did not +answer. I went on: "The Doctor forbade your coming out for several days +yet--and the exertion and the night-air--oh, I beg you to go back." + +"Alone?" he said in a low voice. + +"No, oh no, I will go with you. Anything, only do not stay here a moment +longer; come." And taking his hand (and how burning hot it was!) and +drawing it through my arm, I started toward the hall. He had to lean on +me, for the unusual exertion seemed to have annihilated all his +strength. When we reached the library, I led him to a chair--a large and +low and easy one, and he sank down in it. + +"You are not going away?" he asked, as he gasped for breath, "For there +is something that must be said to-night." + +"No, I will not go," I answered, frightened to see him so, and agitated +by a thousand feelings. "I will light the lamp, and read to you. Let me +move your chair back from the window." + +"No, you must not light the lamp; I like the moonlight better. Bring +your chair and sit here by me--here." He leaned and half-pulled toward +him the companion to the chair on which he sat, a low, soft, easy one. + +I sat down in it, sitting so I nearly faced him. The moon was shining +in at the one wide window: I can remember exactly the pattern that the +vine-leaves made as the moonlight fell through them on the carpet at our +feet. I had a bunch of verbena-leaves fastened in my dress, and I never +smell verbena-leaves at any time or place without seeing before me that +moon-traced pattern and that wide-open window. + +"Pauline," he said, in that low, thrilling voice, leaning a little +toward me, "I have a great deal to say to you to-night. I have a great +wrong to ask pardon for--a great sorrow to tell you of. I shall never +call you Pauline again as I call you to-night. I shall never look into +your eyes again, I shall never touch your hand. For we must part, +Pauline; and this hour, which heaven has given me, is the last that we +shall spend together on the earth." + +I truly thought that his fever had produced delirium, and, trying to +conceal my alarm, I said, with an attempt to quiet him, "Oh, do not say +such things; we shall see each other a great, great many times, I hope, +and have many more hours together." + +"No, Pauline, you do not know so well as I of what I speak. This is no +delirium; would to heaven, it were, and I might wake up from it. No, the +parting must be said to-night, and I must be the one to speak it. We +may spend days, perhaps, under the same roof--we may even sit at the +same table once again; but, I repeat, from this day I may never look +into your eyes again, I may never touch your hand. Pauline, can you +forgive me? I know that you can love. Merciful Heaven! who so well as I, +who have held your stainless heart in my stained hand these many dreamy +weeks; and Justice has not struck me dead. Yes, Pauline, I know you've +loved me; but remember this one thing, in all your bitter thoughts of me +hereafter: remember this, you have not loved me as I have loved you. You +have not given up earth and heaven both for me as I have done for you. +For you? No, not for you, but for the shadow of you, for the thought of +you, for these short weeks of you. And then, an eternity of absence, and +of remorse, and of oblivion--ah, if it might be oblivion for you! If I +could blot out of your life this short, blighting summer; if I could put +you back to where you were that fresh, sweet morning that I walked with +you beside the river! I loved you from that day, Pauline, and I drugged +my conscience, and refused to heed that I was doing you a wrong in +teaching you to love me. Pauline, I have to tell you a sad story: you +will have to go back with me very far; you will have to hear of sins of +which you never dreamed in your dear innocence. I would spare you if I +could, but you must know, for you must forgive me. And when you have +heard, you may cease to love, but I think you will forgive. Listen." + +Why should I repeat that terrible disclosure? why harrow my soul with +going back over that dark path? Let me try to forget that such sins, +such wrongs, such revenges, ever stained a human life. I was so young, +so innocent, so ignorant. It was a strange misfortune that I should have +had to know that which aged and changed me so. But he was right in +saying that I had to know it. My life was bound involuntarily to his by +my love, and what concerned him was my fate. Alas! He was in no other +way bound to me than by my love: nor ever could be. + +I don't know whether I was prepared for it or not: I knew that something +terrible and final was to come, and I felt the awe that attends the +thoughts that words are final and time limited. But when I heard the +fatal truth--that another woman lived to whom he was irrevocably +bound--I heard it as in a dream, and did not move or speak. I think I +felt for a moment as if I were dead, as if I had passed out of the ranks +of the living into the abodes of the silent, and benumbed, and +pulseless. There was such a horrible awe, and chill, and check through +all my young and rapid blood. It was like death by freezing. It is not +so pleasant as they say, believe me. But no pain: that came afterward, +when I came to life, when I felt the touch of his hand on mine, and +ceased to hear his cruel words. + +I had shrunk back from him in my chair, and sat, I suppose, like a +person in a trance, with my hands in my lap, and my eyes fixed on him +with bewilderment. But when he ceased to speak--and, leaning forward on +one knee, clasped my hands in his, and drew me toward him, then indeed I +knew I was not dead. Oh, the agony of those few moments--I tried to +rise, to go away from him. But he held me with such strength--all his +weakness was gone now. He folded his arms around my waist and held me as +in a vise. Then suddenly leaning his head down upon my arms, he kissed +my hands, my arms, my dress, with a moan of bitter anguish. + +"Not mine," he murmured. "Never mine but in my dreams. O wretched +dreams, that drive me mad. Pauline, they will tell us that we must not +dream--we must not weep, we must be stocks and stones. We must wear this +weight of living death till that good Lord that makes such laws shall +send us death in mercy. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years of suffering: +that might almost satisfy Him, one would think. Pauline! you and I are +to say good-bye to-night. Good-bye! People talk of it as a cruel word. +Think of it: if it were but for a year, a year with hope at the end of +it to keep our hearts alive, it would be terrible, and we should need be +brave. The tears that lovers shed over a year apart; the days that have +got to come and go, how weary. The nights--the nights that sleep flies +off from, and that memory reigns over. Count them--over three hundred +come in every year. One, you think while it is passing, is enough to +kill you: one such night of restless torture, and how many shall we +multiply our three hundred by? We are young, Pauline. You are a child, a +very child. I am in the very flush and strength of manhood. There is +half a century of suffering in me yet: this frame, this brain, will +stand the wear of the hard years to come but too, too well. There is no +hope of death. There is no hope in life. That star has set. Good God! +And that makes hell--why should I wait for it--it cannot be worse there +than here. Don't listen to me--it will not be as hard for you--you are +so young--you have no sins to torture you--only a little love to conquer +and forget. You will marry a man who lives for you, and who is patient +and will wait till this is over. Ah, no: by Heaven! I can't quite stand +it yet. Pauline, you never loved him, did you--never blushed for +him--never listened for his coming with your lips apart and your heart +fluttering, as I have seen you listen when you thought that I was +coming? No, I know you never loved him: I know you have loved me +alone--me--who ought to have forbidden you. Forgive--forgive--forgive +me." + +A passion of tears had come to my relief, and I shook from head to foot +with sobs. I cannot feel ashamed when I remember that he held me for one +moment in his arms. He had been to me till that shock, strength, truth, +justice: _the man I loved_. How could I in one instant know him by his +sin alone, and undo all my trust? I knew only this, that it was for the +last time, and that my heart was broken. + +I forgave him--that was an idle form; in my great love I never felt that +there was anything to be forgiven, except the wrong that fate had done +me, in making my love so hopeless. He told me to forget him; that seemed +to me as idle; but all his words were precious, and all my soul was in +his hand. When, at that moment, the sound of wheels upon the gravel +came, and the sound of laughter and of voices, I sprang up; he caught me +in his arms and held me closely. Another moment, the parting was over, +and I was kneeling by my bed up-stairs, weeping, sobbing, hopeless. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME. + + Into my chamber brightly + Came the early sun's good-morrow; + On my restless bed, unsightly, + I sat up in my sorrow. + + _Faust._ + + +It is an amazing thing, the strength and power of pride. Pride, and the +law of self-respect and self-preservation in our being, is the force +that holds us in our course. When we reflect upon it, how few of all the +myriads fly out from it and are lost. That I ate my meals; that I +dressed myself with care; that I took walks and drives: that I did not +avoid my companions, and listened patiently to what they chose to say: +these were the evidences of that centripetal law within that was keeping +me from destruction. It would be difficult to imagine a person more +unhappy. Undisciplined and unfortified by the knowledge that +disappointment is an integral part of all lives, there had suddenly come +upon me a disappointment the most total. It covered everything; there +was not a flicker of hope or palliation. And I had no idea where to go +to make myself another hope, or in what course lay palliation. As we +have prepared ourselves or have been prepared, so is the issue of our +temptations. My great temptation came upon me, foolish, ignorant, +unprepared: the wonder would have been if I had resisted it to my +own credit. + +The days went on as usual at R----, and I must hold my place among the +careless daughters and not let them see my trouble. Careless daughters, +indeed they were, and I shuddered at the thought of their cold eyes: no +doubt their eyes, bright as well as cold, saw that something was amiss +with me; with all my bravery, I could not keep the signs of wretchedness +out of my pale face. But they never knew the story, and they could only +guess at what made me wretched. It is amazing (again) what power there +is in silence, and how much you can keep in your hands if you do not +open them. People may surmise--may invent, but they cannot know your +secret unless you tell it to them, and their imaginings take so many +forms, the multitude of things that they create blot out all definite +design. Thus every one at R---- had a different theory about my loss of +spirits and the relapse of Mr. Langenau, but no one ever knew what +passed that night. + +Richard came. He was closeted with Sophie until after midnight, but I +do not think he told her anything that she desired to know. I think he +only tried to find out from her what had passed (and she did not know +that I had been in the library since she spoke to me). If Mr. Langenau +had been well, I have no doubt that it was his design to have dismissed +him on the following day, no matter at what hazard. How much he knew I +cannot tell, but enough to have warranted him in doing that, perhaps. He +probably would have put it in Mr. Langenau's power to have gone without +any coloring put upon his going that would have affected his standing in +the household. This was his design, no doubt; otherwise he would have +told his sister all. His delicate consideration for me made him guard as +sacred the fact that I had wasted my hope and love so cruelly. + +He was not going away again, I soon found; _qui va à la chasse perd sa +place_. He had lost his place, but he would stay and guard me all the +same; and the chase for gold seemed given up for good and all. + +Kilian was in constant surprise, and made out many catechisms, but he +got little satisfaction. + +Richard was going to have a few weeks' "rest," unless something should +occur to call him back to town. + +He sought no interview with me, was kind and silent, but his eye was +never off me. I think he watched his opportunity for saying what he had +to say to Mr. Langenau, but such an opportunity seemed destined not +to come. + +Mr. Langenau was ill the day after Richard came home--quite ill enough +to cause alarm. He had a high fever, and the Doctor even seemed uneasy, +and prescribed the profoundest quiet. After a day or two, however, he +improved, and all danger seemed averted. + +As soon as he was strong enough, he was to be removed to his own room +above, for the sake of quiet, and to release the household from its +enforced tranquillity. + +All these particulars I heard at table, or from morning groups on the +piazza: with stony cheeks, and eyes that looked unflinchingly into all +curious faces: so works the law of self-defence. + +All but Richard, I am sure, were staggered, but he read with his heart. + +I never blushed now, I never faltered, I never said a word I did not +mean to say. It was a struggle for life: though I did not value the +life, and should have found it hard to say why I did not give up and +let them see that I was killed. + +But I kept wondering how I should sustain myself if I should be called +upon to meet him once again. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +GUARDED. + + Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely, + I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only + Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received. + + _Felix Arvers_. + + Duty to God is duty to her; I think + God, who created her, will save her too + Some new way, by one miracle the more + Without me. Then, prayer may avail, perhaps. + + _R. Browning_. + + +"Mr. Langenau is coming down to-day," said Charlotte Benson in a +stage-whisper, as we took our places at the table, a week after this. "I +met him in the hall about an hour ago, looking like a ghost, and he told +me he was coming down to dinner." + +"_Vraiment_," said Sophie, looking a little disconcerted. "Well, he +shall have Charley's place. Charley isn't coming." + +"I hope he's in a better temper than that last day we saw him," said +Henrietta. + +"Poor fellow!" said Charlotte, "that was the day before the fever began. +It was coming on: that was the reason of it all, no doubt. He looks +ghastly enough now. You'll forgive all, the moment that you see him." + +Charlotte had forgiven him herself, though she had never resumed the +role of Florence Nightingale. Since he had given up the library and +removed to his own room, he had been quite lost to all, and nobody +seemed to have gone near him, not even Sophie, who would have been glad +to forget that he existed, without doubt. + +Richard's eyes were on me as Charlotte said "Hush!" and a step crossed +the hall in the pause that ensued. Kilian, sitting next me, began to +talk to me at that moment, the moment that Mr. Langenau entered the +room. And I think I answered quite coherently: though two sets of words +were going through my brain, the answer to his commonplace question, and +the words that Mr. Langenau had said that night, "Pauline, I shall never +look into your eyes again, I shall never touch your hand." + +It seemed to me an even chance which sentence saw the day; but as the +walls did not fall down about me and no face looked amazement, I found I +must have answered Kilian's question with propriety. + +There were many voices speaking at once; but there was such a ringing in +my ears, I could not distinguish who spoke, or what was said: for a +moment I was lost, if any one had taken advantage of it. But gradually +I regained my senses: one after another they each took up their guard +again: and I looked up. And met his eyes? No; but let mine rest upon his +face. And then I found I had not measured my temptation, and that there +was something to do besides defending myself from others' eyes. For +there was to defend myself from my own heart. The passion of pity and +tenderness that rushed over me as my eyes fell on his haggard face, so +strong and yet so wan, swept away for the moment the defences against +the public gaze. I could have fallen down at his feet before them all +and told him that I loved him. + +A few moments more of the sound of commonplace words, and the repulsion +of every-day faces and expressions, swept me back into the circle of +conventionalities, and brought me under the force of that current that +keeps us from high tragedy. + +All during the meal Mr. Langenau was grave and silent, speaking little +and then with effort. He had overrated his strength, perhaps, for he +went away before the end of the dinner, asking to be excused, in a tone +almost inaudible. After he had gone, a good many commentaries were +offered. Kilian seemed to express the sense of the assembly when he +said: "The man looks shockingly, and he's not out of the woods yet." + +Sophie looked troubled: she had some compunctions for the neglect of the +last few days, perhaps. + +"What does the Doctor say?" pursued her brother. + +"Nothing, I suppose--for he hasn't been here for a week, almost." + +"Well, then, you'd better send for him, if you don't want the fellow to +die on your hands. He's not fit to be out of bed, and you'll have +trouble if you don't look out." + +"As if I hadn't had trouble," returned his sister, almost peevishly. + +"Well, I beg your pardon, Sophie. But I fancied you and Miss Charlotte +were in charge; and I thought about ten days ago, your patient was in a +fair way to be killed with kindness, and it's a little of a surprise to +me to find he's being let alone so very systematically." + +"Why, to tell you the truth," cried Charlotte Benson, "we were turned +out of office without much ceremony, one fine day after dinner. I am +quite willing to be forgiving; but I don't think you can ask me to put +myself in the way of being snubbed again to that extent." + +"The ungrateful varlet! what did he complain of? Hadn't he been coddled +enough to please him? Did he want four or five more women dancing +attendance on him?" + +"Oh, it was not want of attention he complained of. In fact," said +Charlotte, coloring, "It was that he didn't like quite so much, and +wanted to be allowed more liberty." + +Kilian indulged in a good laugh, which wasn't quite fair, considering +Charlotte's candor. + +"But the truth is," said Charlotte, uneasily, "that he was too ill, that +day, to be responsible for what he said. He was just coming down with +the fever, and, you know, people are always most unreasonable then." + +"I'm very glad I never gave him a chance to dispense with me," said Mary +Leighton, with a view to making herself amiable in Kilian's eyes. + +"I think he dispensed with you early in the season," said Charlotte, +sharply. "Oh, hast thou forgotten that walk that he took, upon your +invitation? Ah, Miss Leighton, his look was quite dramatic. I know you +never have forgiven him." + +"I haven't the least idea what you are talking of," returned Mary +Leighton, with bewildered and child-like simplicity. + +"Ah, then it was not as unique an occurrence as I hoped," said +Charlotte, viciously. "I imagined it would make more of an impression." + +"Charlotte," interrupted Sophie, shocked at this open impoliteness, "I +hope you are forgiving enough to break it to him that he's got to see +the Doctor; for if he comes unexpectedly and goes up to his room, he +will be dramatic, and that is so unpleasant, as we know to our sorrow." + +"Indeed, I shan't tell him," cried Charlotte, "you can take your life in +your hand, and try it if you please; but I cannot consent to risk +myself. There's Mary Leighton, she bears no malice. Perhaps she'll go +with you as support." + +"Ha, ha!" cried Kilian. "Richard, you and I may be called on to bring up +the rear. There's the General's old sword in the hall, and I'll take the +Joe Manton from the shelf in the library." + +"Richard looks as if he disapproved of us all very much," said Sophie, +and in truth Richard did look just so. He did not even answer these +suggestions, but began after a moment to talk to Henrietta on +indifferent matters. + +It was on this afternoon that a new policy was inaugurated at R----. We +were taught to feel that we had been quite aggrieved by the dullness of +the past two weeks or more, and that we must be compensated by some +refreshing novelties. + +Richard was at the head of the movement--Richard with his sober cares +and weary look. But the incongruity struck no one; they were too glad to +be amused. Even Sophie brightened up. Charlotte was ready to throw her +energies into any active scheme, hospital or picnic, charity-school or +kettle-drum. + +"To-morrow will be just the sort of day for it," said Richard, "cool and +fine. And half the pleasure of a picnic is not having time to get tired +of it beforehand." + +"That's very true," said Charlotte; "but I don't see how we're going to +get everybody notified and everything in order for nine o'clock +to-morrow morning." + +"Nothing easier," said Kilian; "we'll go, directly after tea, to the De +Witts and Prentices, and send Thomas with a note to the Lowders. Sophie +has done her part in shorter time than that, very often; and I don't +believe we should be starved, if she only gave half an hour's notice to +the cook." + +What is heavier than pleasure-seeking in which one has no pleasure? I +shall never forget the misery of those plans and that bustle. I dared +not absent myself, and I could scarcely carry out my part for very +heavy-heartedness. It seemed to me that I could not bear it, if the hour +came, and I should have to drive away with all that merry party, and +leave poor Mr. Langenau for a long, long day alone. + +I felt sure something would occur to release me: it could not be that I +should have to go. With the exaggeration of youth, it seemed to me an +impossibility that I could endure anything so grievous. How I hated all +the careless, thoughtless, happy household! Only Richard, enemy as he +was to my happiness, seemed endurable to me. For Richard was not +merry-making in his heart, and I was sure he was sorry for me all the +time he was trying to oppose me. + +Mr. Langenau was again in the Doctor's care, who came that evening, and +who said to Richard, in my hearing, he must be kept quiet; he didn't +altogether like his symptoms. + +Richard had his hands full, with great matters and small. Sophie had +washed hers of the invalid; there had been some sharpish words between +the sister and brother on the matter, I imagine, and the result was, +Richard was the only one who did or would do anything for his comfort +and safety. + +That day, after appearing at dinner, he came no more. I watched with +feverish anxiety every step, every sound; but he came not. I knew that +the Doctor's admonitions would not have much weight, nor yet Richard's +opinion. I had the feeling that if he would only speak to me, only look +at me once, it would ease that horrible oppression and pain which I was +suffering. The agony I was enduring was so intolerable, and its real +relief so impossible, like a child I caught at some fancied palliation, +and craved only that. What would one look, one word be--out of a +lifetime of silence and separation. + +No matter: it was what I raged and died for, just one look, just one +word more. He had said he would never look into my eyes again: that +haunted me and made me superstitious. I would _make_ him look at me. I +would seize his hand and kneel before him, and tell him I should die if +he did not speak to me once more. Once more! Just once, out of years, +out of forever. I had thrown duty, conscience, thought to the winds. I +had but one fear--that we should be finally separated without that word +spoken, that look exchanged. I said to myself again and again, I shall +die, if I cannot speak to him again. Beyond that I did not look. What +better I should be after that speaking I did not care. I only longed and +looked for that as a relief from the insufferable agony of my fate. One +cannot take in infinite wretchedness: it is our nature to make dates and +periods to our sorrows in our imagination. + +And so that horrid afternoon and evening passed, amid the racket and +babel of visitors and visiting. I followed almost blindly, and did as +the others did. The next morning dawned bright and cold. What a day for +summer! The sun was brilliant, but the wind came from over icebergs; it +seemed like "winter painted green." + +We were to start at nine o'clock. I was ready early, waiting on the +piazza for the aid to fate that was to keep me from the punishment of +going. No human being had spoken his name that morning. How should I +know whether he were still so ill or no. + +The hour for starting had arrived. Richard, who never kept long out of +sight of me, was busy loading the wagon that was to accompany us, with +baskets of things to eat, and with wines and fruits. Kilian was +engrossed in arranging the seats and cushions in the two carriages which +had just driven to the door. + +Mary Leighton was fluttering about the flower-bed at the left of the +piazza, making herself lovely with geranium and roses. Sophie, in a +beautiful costume, was pacifying Charley, who had had a difference with +his uncle Kilian. Charlotte and Henrietta were busy in their small way +over a little basket of preserves; and two or three of the neighboring +gentlemen, who were to drive with us, were approaching the house by a +side-entrance. + +In a moment or two we should be ready to be off. What should I do? I was +frantic with the thought that he might be worse, he might go away. I +was to be absent such a length of time. I must--I would see him before +we went. What better moment than the present, when everybody was engaged +in this fretting, foolish picnic. I would run up-stairs--call to him +outside his door--make him speak to me. + +With a guilty look around, I started up, stole through the group on the +piazza, and ran to the stairs. But alas, Richard had not failed to mark +my movements, and before my foot had touched the stair his voice +recalled me. I started with a guilty look, and trembled, but dared not +meet his eye. + +"Pauline, are you going away? We are just ready start." + +If I had had any presence of mind I should have made an excuse, and gone +to my own room for a moment, and taken my chance of getting to the floor +above; but I suppose he would have forestalled me. I could not command a +single word, but turned back and followed him. As we got into the +carriage, the voices and the laughing really seemed to madden me. +Driving away from the house, I never shall forget the sensation of +growing heaviness at my heart; it seemed to be turning into lead. I +glanced back at the closed windows of his room and wondered if he saw +us, and if he thought that I was happy. + +The length of that day! The glare of that sun! The chill of that +unnatural wind! Every moment seemed to me an hour. I can remember with +such distinctness the whole day, each thing as it happened; +conversations which seemed so senseless, preparations which seemed so +endless. The taste of the things I tried to eat: the smell of the grass +on which we sat, and the pine-trees above our heads: the sound of fire +blazing under the teakettle, and the pained sensation of my eyes when +the smoke blew across into our faces: the hateful vibration of Mary +Leighton's laugh: all these things are unnaturally vivid to me at +this day. + +I don't know what the condition of my brain must have been, to have +received such an exaggerated impression of unimportant things. + +"What can I do for you, Miss Pauline?" said Kilian, throwing himself +down on the grass at my feet. I could not sit down for very impatience, +but was walking restlessly about, and was now standing for a moment by a +great tree under which the table had been spread. It was four o'clock, +and there was only vague talk of going home; the horses had not yet been +brought up, the baskets were not a quarter packed. Every one was +indolent, and a good deal tired; the gentlemen were smoking, and no one +seemed in a hurry. + +When Kilian said, "What can I do for you. Miss Pauline?" I could not +help saying, "Take me home." + +"Home!" cried Kilian. "Here is somebody talking about going home. Why, +Miss Pauline, I am just beginning to enjoy myself! only look, it is but +four o'clock." + +"Oh, let us stay and go home by moonlight," cried Mary Leighton, in a +little rapture. + +"Would it not be heavenly!" said Henrietta. + +"How about tea?" said Charlotte. "We shall be hungry before moonlight, +and there isn't anything left to eat." + +"How material!" cried Kilian, who had eaten an enormous dinner. + +"We shall all get cold," said Sophie, who loved to be comfortable, "and +the children are beginning to be very cross." + +"Small blame to them," muttered a dissatisfied man in my ear, who had +singled me out as a companion in discontent, and had pursued me with his +contempt for pastoral entertainments, and for this entertainment +in especial. + +"Well, let the people that want to stay, stay; but let us go home," I +said, hastily. + +"That is so like you, Pauline," exclaimed Mary Leighton, in a voice that +stung me like nettles. + +"It is very like common-sense," I said, "if that's like me." + +"Well, it isn't particularly." + +"Let dogs delight," said Kilian, "I have a compromise to offer. If we go +home by the bridge we pass the little Brink hotel, where they give +capital teas. We can stop there, rest, get tea, have a dance in the +'ball-room,' sixteen by twenty, and go home by moonlight, filling the +souls of Miss Leighton and Henrietta with bliss." + +A chorus of ecstasy followed this; Sophie herself was satisfied with the +plan, and exulted in the prospect of washing her face, and lying down on +a bed for half an hour, though only at a little country inn. Even this +low form of civilized life was tempting, after seven hours spent in +communion with nature on hard rocks. + +Great alacrity was shown in getting ready and in getting off. I could +not speak to any one, not even the dissatisfied man, but walked away by +myself and tried to let no one see what I was feeling. After all was +ready, I got into the carriage beside one of the Miss Lowders, and the +dissatisfied man sat opposite. He wore canvas shoes and a corduroy suit, +and sleeve-buttons and studs that were all bugs and bees. I think I +could make a drawing of the sleeve-button on the arm with which he held +the umbrella over us; there were five different forms of insect-life +represented on it, but I remember them all. + +"I'm afraid you haven't enjoyed yourself very much," said Miss Lowder, +looking at me rather critically. + +"I? why--no, perhaps not; I don't generally enjoy myself very much." + +Somebody out on the front seat laughed very shrilly at this: of course +it was Mary Leighton, who was sitting beside Kilian, who drove. I felt I +would have liked to push her over among the horses, and drive on. + +"Isn't her voice like a steel file?" I said with great simplicity to my +companions. The dissatisfied man, writhing uncomfortably on his seat, +four inches too narrow for any one but a child of six, assented +gloomily. Miss Lowder, who was twenty-eight years old and very well +bred, looked disapproving, and changed the subject. Not much more was +said after this. Miss Lowder had a neuralgic headache, developed by the +cold wind and an undigested dinner eaten irregularly. She was too polite +to mention her sufferings, but leaned back in the carriage and +was silent. + +My vis-à -vis was at last relieved by the declining sun from his task, +and so the umbrella-arm and its sleeve-button were removed from my range +of vision. + +We counted the mile-posts, and we looked sometimes at our watches, and +so the time wore away. + +Kilian and Mary Leighton were chattering incessantly, and did not pay +much attention to us. Kilian drove pretty fast almost all the way, but +sometimes forgot himself when Mary was too seductive, and let the horses +creep along like snails. + +"There's our little tavern," cried Kilian at last, starting up the +horses. + +"Oh, I'm so sorry," murmured Mary Leighton, "we have had such a lovely +drive." + +My vis-à -vis groaned and looked at me as this observation reached us. I +laughed a little hysterically: I was so glad to be at the half-way +house--and Mary Leighton's words were so absurd. When we got out of the +carriage, the dissatisfied man stretched his long English limbs out, and +lighting his cigar, began silently to pace the bricks in front of +the house. + +Kilian took us into the little parlor (we were the first to arrive), and +committed us to the care of a thin, tired-looking woman, and then went +to see to the comfort of his horses. + +The tired woman, who looked as if she never had sat down since she grew +up, took us to some rooms, where we were to rest till tea was ready. The +rooms had been shut up all day, and the sun had been beating on them: +they smelled of paint and dust and ill-brushed carpets. The water in the +pitchers was warm and not very clear: the towels were very small and +thin, the beds were hard, and the pillows very small, like the towels: +they felt soft and warm and limp, like sick kittens. We threw open the +windows and aired the rooms, and washed our faces and hands: and Miss +Lowder lay down on the bed and put her head on a pile of four of the +little pillows collected from the different rooms. Mary Leighton spent +the time in re-arranging her hair, and I walked up and down the hall, +too impatient to rest myself in any way. + +By-and-by the others came, and then there was a hubbub and a clatter, +and poor Miss Lowder's head was overlooked in the mêlée; for these were +all the rooms the house afforded for the entertainment of wayfarers, and +as there were nine ladies in our party, it is not difficult to imagine +the confusion that ensued. + +Benny and Charley also came to have their hair arranged, and it devolved +on Charlotte and me to do it, as their mamma had thrown herself +exhausted on one of the beds, and with the bolsters doubled up under her +head, was trying to get some rest. + +It was fully half-past seven before the tea-bell rang. I seized Benny's +hand, and we were the first on the ground. I don't know how I thought +this would be useful in hurrying matters, for Benny's tea and mine were +very soon taken, and were very insignificant fractions of the +general business. + +There were kerosene lamps on the table, and everything was served in the +plainest manner, but the cooking was really good, and it was evident +that the tired woman had been on her feet all her life to some purpose. +Almost every one was hungry, and the contrast to the cold meats, and the +hard rocks, and the disjointed apparatus of the noonday meal, was very +favorable. + +Richard had put me between himself and Benny, and he watched my +undiminished supper with disapprobation: but I do not believe he ate +much more himself. He put everything that he thought I might like, +before me, silently: and I think the tired woman (who was waitress as +well as cook), must have groaned over the frequent changing of my plate. + +"Do not take any more of that," he said, as I put out my hand for +another cup of coffee. + +"Well, what shall I take?" I exclaimed peevishly. But indeed I did not +mean to be peevish, nor did I know quite what I said, I was so +miserable. Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some question +of Sophie; who was quite revived. + +Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, and a +young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders. + +It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies from +the house. After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the smoking +there was to be dancing. The preparations for the dancing created a good +deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time. Kilian and young +Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play for them. When he +came, he had to be instructed as to the style of music to be furnished, +and the rasping and scraping of that miserable instrument put me beside +myself with nervousness. Then the "ball-room" had to be aired and +lighted; then the negro's music was found to be incompatible with modern +movements; even a waltz was proved impossible, and nobody would consent +to remember a quadrille but Richard. So they had to fall back upon +Virginia reels, and everybody was made to dance. + +The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given. He turned +to me languidly, and offered me his hand. + +"No," I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, "You will +excuse me, won't you?" + +He said, with grave philosophy, "I really think it will seem shorter +than if we were looking on." + +I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him. And what a +dance it was! The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of the room, the +asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the little platform by +the door: the amused faces looking in at the open windows: the romping, +well-dressed, pretty women: the handsome men who were trying to act like +clowns: the noise of laughing and the calling out of the figures: all +this, I am sure, I never shall forget. And, strange to say, I somewhat +enjoyed it after all. The coffee had stimulated me: the music was merry: +I was reckless, and my companions were full of glee. Even the _ennuyé_ +skipped up and down the room like a school-boy: I never shall forget +Richard's happy and relieved expression, when I laughed aloud at +somebody's amusing blunder. + +Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were getting +ready to go home. It was a good deal after ten o'clock, and the night +was cold. There were not quite shawls enough, no preparations having +been made for staying out after dark. Richard went up to Sophie (I was +standing out by the steps to be ready the moment the carriages should +come), and I heard him negotiating with her for a shawl for me. She was +quite impatient and peremptory, though _sotto voce_. The children needed +both her extra ones, and there was an end of it. + +I did not care at all, and feeling warm with dancing, did not dread what +I had not yet felt. I pulled my light cloak around me, and only longed +for the carriage to arrive. But after we had started and were about +forty rods from the door, quite out of the light of the little tavern, +just within a grove of locust-trees (the moon was under clouds), +Richard's voice called out to Kilian to stop, and coming up to the side +of the carriage, said, "Put this around you, Pauline, you haven't got +enough." He put something around my shoulders which felt very warm and +comfortable: I believe I said, Thank you, though I am not at all sure, +and Kilian drove on rapidly. + +By-and-by, when I began to feel a little chilly, I drew it together +round my throat: the air was like November, and, August though it was, +there was a white frost that night. I was frightened when I found what I +had about my shoulders. It was Richard's coat. I called to Kilian to +stop a moment, I wanted to speak to Richard. But when we stopped, the +carriage in which he was to drive was just behind us--and some one in it +said, Richard had walked. He had not come back after he ran out to speak +to us--must have struck across the fields and gone ahead. And Richard +walked home, five miles, that night! the only way to save himself from +the deadly chill of the keen air, without his coat. + +When we drove into the gate, at home, I stooped eagerly forward to get a +sight of the house through the trees. There was a light burning in the +room over mine: that was all I wanted to know, and with a sigh of relief +I sank back. + +When we went into the hall, I remembered to hang Richard's coat upon a +rack there, and then ran to my room. I could not get any news of Mr. +Langenau, and could not hear how the day had gone with him: could only +take the hope that the sight of the little lamp conveyed. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM. + + Go on, go on: + Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved + All tongues to talk their bitterest. + + _Winter's Tale_. + + +Of course, the night was entirely sleepless after such, a day. I was +over-tired, and the coffee would have been fatal to rest in any case. I +tossed about restlessly till three o'clock, and then fell into a +heavy sleep. + +The sun was shining into the room, and I heard the voices of people on +the lawn when I awoke. When I went down, after a hurried and nervous +half-hour of dressing, I found the morning, apparently, half gone, and +the breakfast-table cleared. + +Mary Leighton, with a croquet mallet in her hand, was following Kilian +through the hall to get a drink of water. She made a great outcry at me +and my appearance. + +"What a headache you must have," she cried. "But ah! think what you've +missed, dear! The tutor has been down at breakfast, or rather at the +breakfast-table, for he didn't eat a thing. He is a, little paler than +he was at dinner day before yesterday--and he's gone up-stairs; and +we've voted that we hope he'll stay there, for he depresses us just to +look at him." + +And then, with an unmeaning laugh, she tripped on after Kilian to get +that drink of water, which was nothing but a ticket for a moment's +_tête-à -tête_ away from the croquet party. Richard had seen me by this +time, and came in and asked how I felt, and rang the bell in the +dining-room, and ordered my breakfast brought. He did not exactly stay +and watch it, but he came in and out of the dining-room enough times to +see that I had everything that was dainty and nice (and to see, alas! +that I could not eat it); for that piece of news from Mary Leighton had +levelled me with the ground again. + +That I had missed seeing him was too cruel, and that he looked so ill; +how could I bear it? + +After my breakfast was taken away, I went into the hall, and sat down on +the sofa between the parlor doors. Pretty soon the people came in from +the croquet ground, talking fiercely about a game in which Kilian and +Mary had been cheating. Charlotte Benson was quite angry, and Charley, +who had played with her, was enraged. I thought they were such, fools +to care, and Richard looked as if he thought they were all silly +children. The day was warm and close, such a contrast to the day before. +The sudden cold had broken down into a sultry August atmosphere. The +sun, which had been bright an hour ago, was becoming obscured, and the +sky was grayish. Every one felt languid. We were all sitting about the +hall, idly, when a servant brought a note. It was an invitation; that +roused them all--and for to-day. There was no time to lose. + +The Lowders had sent to ask us all to a croquet party there at four +o'clock. + +"What an hour!" cried Sophie, who was tired; "I should think they might +have let us get rested from the picnic." + +But Charlotte and Henrietta were so much charmed at the prospect of +seeing so soon the Frenchman and the young devoted Lowder, that they +listened to no criticism on the hour or day. + +"How nice!" they said, "we shall get there a little before five--play +for a couple of hours--then have tea on the lawn, perhaps--a little +dance, and home by moonlight." It was a ravishing prospect for their +unemployed imaginations, and they left no time in rendering +their answer. + +For myself, I had taken a firm resolve. I would never repeat the misery +of yesterday; nothing should persuade me to go with them, but I would +manage it so that I should be free from every one, even Richard. + +Croquet parties are great occasions for pretty costumes; all this was +talked over. What should I wear? Oh, my gray grenadine, with the violet +trimmings, and a gray hat with violet velvet and feather. + +"You have everything so perfect for that suit," said Mary Leighton, in a +tone of envy. "Cravat and parasol and gloves of just the shade +of violet." + +"And gray boots," I said. "It _is_ a pretty suit." No one but Sophie had +such expensive clothes as I, but I cannot say at that moment they made +me very happy. I was only thinking how improbable that the gray suit +would come out of the box that day, unless I should be obliged to dress +to mislead the others till the last. + +The carriages (for we filled two), were to be at the door at four +o'clock punctually. The Lowders were five miles away: the whole thing +was so talked about and planned about, that when dinner was over, I felt +we had had a croquet party, and quite a long one at that. + +Mr. Langenau did not come to dinner; Sophie sent a servant to his room +after we were at table, to ask him if he would come down, or have his +dinner sent to him; but the servant came back, saying he did not want +any dinner, with his compliments to Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +"_À la bonne heure_" cried Kilian. "A skeleton always interferes with my +appetite at a feast." + +"It is the only thing, then, that does, isn't it?" asked Charlotte, who +seemed to have a pick at him always. + +"No, not the only thing. There is one other--just one other." + +"And, for the sake of science, what is that?" + +"A woman with a sharp tongue, Miss Charlotte.--Sophie, I don't think +much of these last soups. Your famous cook's degenerating, take +my word." + +And so on, while Charlotte colored, and was silent through the meal. She +knew her tongue was sharp; she knew that she was self-willed and was not +humble. But she had not taken herself in hand, religiously; to take +one's self in hand morally, or on grounds of expediency, never amounts +to much; and such taking in hand was all that Charlotte had as yet +attempted. In a little passion of self-reproach and mortification, she +occasionally lopped off ugly shoots; but the root was still vigorous and +lusty, and only grew the better for its petty pruning. Richard looked +very much displeased at his brother's rudeness, and tried to make up +for it by great kindness and attention. + +About this time I had become aware of what were Sophie's plans for +Richard. In case he must marry (to be cured of me), he was to marry +Charlotte, who was so capable, so sensible, of so good family, so much +indebted to Sophie, and so decidedly averse to living in the country. +Sophie saw herself still mistress here, with, to be sure, a shortened +income, and Richard and his wife spending a few weeks with her in the +summer. I do not know how far Charlotte entered into these plans. +Probably not at all, consciously; but I became aware that, as a little +girl, Richard had been her hero; and he did not seem to have been +displaced by any one entirely yet. But I took a very faint interest in +all this. I should have cared, probably, if I had seen Richard devoted +to her. He seemed to belong to me, and I should have resented any +interference with my rights. But I did not dread any. I knew, though I +took little pleasure in the knowledge, that he loved me with all his +good and manly heart; and it never seemed a possibility that he +could change. + +The simple selfishness of young women in these matters is appalling. +Richard was mine by right of conquest, and I owed him no gratitude for +the service of his life. That other was the lord who had the right +inalienable over me. I bent myself in the dust before him. I would have +taken shame itself as an honor from his hands. I thought of him day and +night. I filled my soul with passionate admiration for his good deeds, +his ill deeds, his all. And the other was as the ground beneath my feet, +of which I seldom thought. + +Richard met me at the foot of the stairs, after dinner, as I was going +up. + +"Pauline, will you go in the carriage with Charlotte and Sophie? I am +going to drive." + +"Oh, it doesn't make any difference," I answered, with confusion. +"Anywhere you choose." + +I think he had misgivings about my going from that moment; to allay +which, I called out something about my costume to Sophie as I went up to +my room. The day was growing duller, and stiller, and grayer. I sat by +the window and watched the leaden river. It was like an afternoon in +September, before the chill of the autumn has come. Not a leaf moved +upon the trees, not a cloud crept over the sky. It was all one dim, +gray, gloomy stillness overhead. I wondered if they would have rain. +_They_, not I, for I was going to stay at home, and before they came +back I should have seen him. I said that over and over to myself with +bated breath, and cheeks that burned like flame. Every step that passed +my door made me start guiltily. Once, when some one knocked, I pulled +out my gray dress, and flung it on the bed, before I answered. + +It was approaching four o'clock. I undressed myself rapidly, put on a +dressing-sack, and threw myself upon the bed. What should I say when +they came for me? They could not _make_ me go. I felt very brave. At +last the carriages drove up to the door. I crept to the window to see if +any one was ready. While I was watching through the half-closed blinds, +some one crossed the piazza. My heart gave a great leap, and then every +pulse stood still. It was Mr. Langenau. His step was slower than it used +to be, and, I thought, a little faltering. He crossed the road, and took +the path that led through the grove and garden to the river. He had a +book under his arm; he must be going to the boat-house to sit there and +read. My heart gave such an ecstasy of life to my veins at the thought, +that for a moment I felt sick and faint, as I drew back from the window. + +I threw myself on the bed as some one knocked. It was a servant to tell +me they were ready. I sent word to Mrs. Hollenbeck that I was not well, +and should not be able to go with them. Then I lay still and waited in +much trepidation for the second knock. I heard in a few moments the +rustle of Sophie's dress outside. She was not pleased at all. She could +scarcely be polite. But then everything looked very plausible. There lay +my dress upon the bed, as if I had begun to dress, and I was pale and +trembling, and I am sure must have looked ill enough to have convinced +her that I spoke the truth. + +She made some feeble offer to stay and take care of me. "Oh, pray +don't," I cried, too eagerly, I am afraid. And then she said her maid +should come and stay with me, for the children were going with them, and +there would be nothing for her to do. I stammered thanks, and then she +went away. I did not dare to move till after I had heard both carriages +drive off, and all voices die away in the distance. + +Bettina came to the door, and was sent away with thanks. Then I began to +dress myself with very trembling hands. This was new work to me, this +horrible deception. But all remorse for that, was swallowed up in the +one engrossing thought and desire which had usurped my soul for the days +just passed. + +It was a full half-hour before I was ready, my hands shook so +unaccountably, and I could scarcely find the things I wanted to put on. +When I went to the door I could hardly turn the key, I felt so weak, +and I stood in the passage many minutes before I dared go on. If any +one had appeared or spoken to me, I am quite sure I should have fainted, +my nerves were in such a shaken state. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +AUGUST THIRTIETH. + + Were Death so unlike Sleep, + Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame, or steel, + Or poison doubtless; but from water--feel! + + _Robert Browning_. + + +I met no one in the hall or on the piazza. The house was silent and +deserted: one of the maids was closing the parlor windows. She did not +look at me with any surprise, for she had not probably heard that I +was ill. + +Once in the open air I felt stronger. I took the river-path, and walked +quickly, feeling freed from a nightmare: and my mind was filled with one +thought. "In a few moments I shall be beside him, I shall make him look +at me, he cannot help but touch my hand." I did not think of past or +future, only of the greedy, passionate present. My infatuation was at +its height. I cannot imagine a passion more absorbing, more unresisted, +and more dangerous. I passed quickly through the garden without even +noticing the flowers that brushed against my dress. + +As I reached the grove I thought for one instant of the morning that he +had met me here, just where the paths intersected. At that moment I +heard a step; and full of that hope, with a quick thrill, I glanced in +the direction of the sound. There, not ten yards from me, coming from +the opposite direction, was Richard. I felt a shock of disappointment, +then fear, then anger. What right had he to dog me so? He looked at me +without surprise, but as if his heart was full of bitterness and sorrow. +He approached, and turned as if to walk with me. + +"I want to be alone," I said angrily, moving away from him. + +"No, Pauline," he answered with a sigh, as he turned from me, "you do +not want to be alone." + +Full of shame and anger, and jarred with the shock and fear, I went on +more slowly. The wood was so silent--the river through the trees lay so +still and leaden. If it had not been for the fire burning in my heart, I +could have thought the world was dead. + +There was not a sound but my own steps; should I soon meet him, would he +be sitting in his old seat by the boat-house door, or would he be +wandering along the dead, still river-bank? What should I say to him? O! +he would speak. If he saw me he would have to speak. + +I soon forgot that I had met Richard, that I had been angry; and again +I had but this one thought. + +The pine cones were slippery under my feet. I held by the old trees as I +went down the bank, step by step. I had to turn and pass a clump of +trees before I reached the boat-house door. + +I was there! With a beating heart I stepped up on the threshold. There +were two doors, one that opened on the path, one that opened on the +river. The house was empty. I had a little sinking pang of +disappointment, but I passed on to the door looking out on the river. By +this door was a seat, empty, but on this lay a book and a straw hat. I +could feel the hot blushes cover my face, my neck, as I caught sight of +these. I stooped down, feeling guilty, and took up the book. It was a +book which he had read daily to me in our lesson-hours. It had his name +on the blank page, and was full of his pencil-marks. I meant to ask him +to give me this book; I would rather have it than anything the world +held, when I should be parted from him. _When!_ I sat down on the seat +beside the door, with the book lying in my lap, the straw hat on the +bench. I longed to take it in my hands--to wreathe it with the clematis +that grew about the door, as I had done one foolish, happy afternoon, +not three weeks ago. But with a strange inconsistency, I dared not +touch it; my face grew hot with blushes as I thought of it. + +How should I meet him? Now that the moment I had longed for had arrived, +I wondered that I had dared to long for it. I felt that if I heard his +step, I should fly and hide myself from him. The recollection of that +last interview in the library--which I had lived over and over, nights +and days, incessantly, since then, came back with fresh force, fresh +vehemence. But no step approached me, all was silent; it began to +impress me strangely, and I looked about me. I don't know at what moment +it was, my eye fell upon the trace of footsteps on the bank, and then on +the mark of the boat dragged along the sand; a little below the +boat-house it had been pushed off into the water. + +I started to my feet, and ran down to the water's edge (at the +boat-house the trees had been in the way of my seeing the river any +distance). + +I stood still, the water lapping faintly on the sand at my feet; it was +hardly a sound. I looked out on the unruffled lead-colored river: there, +about quarter of a mile from the bank, the boat was lying: empty +--motionless. The oars were floating a few rods from her, drifting +slowly, slowly, down the stream. + +The sight seemed to turn my warm blood and blushes into ice: even +before I had a distinct impression of what I feared, I was benumbed. But +it did not take many moments for the truth, or a dread of it, to +reach my brain. + +I covered my eyes with my hands, then sprang up the bank and called +wildly. + +My voice was like a madwoman's, and it must have sounded far on that +still air. In less than a moment Richard came hurrying with great +strides down the path. I sprang to him, and caught his arm and dragged +him to the water's edge. + +"Look," I whispered--pointing to the hat and book--and then out to the +boat. I read his face in terror. It grew slowly, deadly white. + +"My God!" he said in a tone of awe. Then shaking me from him, sprang up +the bank, and his voice was something fearful as he shouted, as he +ran, for help. + +There were men laboring, two or three fields off. I don't know how long +it took them to get to him, nor how long to get a boat out on the water, +nor what boat it was. I know they had ropes and poles, and that they +were talking in eager, hurried voices, as they passed me. + +I sat on the steps that led down the bank, clinging to the low railing +with my hands: I had sunk down because my strength had given way all at +once, and I felt as if everything were rocking and surging under me. +Sometimes everything was black before me, and then again I could see +plainly the wide expanse of the river, the wide expanse of the gray sky, +and between them--the empty, motionless boat, and the floating oars +beyond upon the tide. + +The voices of the men, and the splashing of the water, when at last they +were launched and pulling away from shore, made a ringing, frightful +noise in my head. I watched till I saw them reach the boat--till I saw +one of them get over in it. Then while they groped about with ropes and +poles, and lashed their boats together, and leaned over and gazed down +into the water, I watched in a strange, benumbed state. + +But, by-and-by, there were some exclamations--a stir, and effort of +strength. I saw them pulling in the ropes with combined movement. I saw +them leaning over the side of the boat, nearest the shore, and together +trying to lift something heavy over into it. I saw the water dripping as +they raised it--and then I think I must have swooned. For I knew nothing +further till I heard Richard's voice, and, raising my head, saw him +leaping from the boat upon the bank. The other boat was further out, and +was approaching slowly. I stood up as he came to me, and held by +the railing. + +"I want you to go up to the house," he said, gently, "there can be no +good in your staying here." + +"I will stay," I cried, everything coming back to me. "I will--will see +him." + +"There is no hope, Pauline," he said, in a quick voice, for the boat was +very near the bank, "or very little--and you must not stay. Everything +shall be done that can be done. I will do all. But you must not stay." + +"I will," I said, frantically, trying to burst past him. He caught my +arms and turned me toward the boat-house, and led me through it, out +into the path that went up to the grove. + +"Go home," he said, in a voice I never shall forget. "You shall not make +a spectacle for these men. I have promised you I will do all. Mind you +obey me strictly, and go up to your room and wait there till I come." + +I don't know how I got there. I believe Bettina found me at the entrance +to the garden, and helped me to the house, and put me on my bed. + +An hour passed--perhaps more--and such an hour! (for I was not for a +moment unconscious, after this, only deadly faint and weak), and then +Richard came. The door was a little open, and he pushed it back and +came in, and stood beside the bed. + +I suppose the sight of me, so broken and spoiled by suffering, overcame +him, for he stooped down suddenly, and kissed me, and then did not speak +for a moment. + +At last he said, in a voice not quite steady, "I didn't mean to be hard +on you, Pauline. But you know I had to do it." + +"And there isn't any--any--" I gasped for the words, and could hardly +speak. + +"No, none, Pauline," he said, keeping my hand in his. "The doctors have +just gone away. It was all no use." + +"Tell me about it," I whispered. + +"About what?" he said, looking troubled. + +"About how it happened." + +"Nobody can tell," he answered, averting his face. "We can only +conjecture about some things. Don't try to think about it. Try to rest." + +"How does he look?" I whispered, clinging to his hand. + +"Just the same as ever; more quiet, perhaps," he answered, looking +troubled. + +I gave a sort of gasp, but did not cry. I think he was frightened, for +he said, uneasily, "Let me call Bettina; she can give you +something--she can sit beside you." + +I shook my head, and said, faintly, "Don't let her come." + +"I have sent for Sophie," he said, soothingly. "She will soon be here, +and will know what to do for you." + +"Keep her out of this room," I cried, half raising myself, and then +falling back from sudden faintness. "Don't let her come _near_ me," I +panted, after a moment, "nor any of them, but, most of all, Sophie; +remember--don't let her even look at me;" and with moaning, I turned my +face down on the pillow. I had taken in about a thousandth fraction of +my great calamity by that time. Every moment was giving to me some +additional possession of it. + +Some one at that instant called Richard, in that subdued tone that +people use about a house in which there is one dead. + +"I have got to go," he said, uneasily. I still kept hold of his hand. +"But I will come back before very long; and I will tell Bettina to bring +a chair and sit outside your door, and not let any one come in." + +"That will do," I said, letting go his hand, "only I don't want my door +shut tight." + +I felt as if the separation were not so entire, so tremendous, while I +could hear what was going on below, and know that no door was shut +between us--no door! Bettina, in a moment more, had taken up her station +in the passage-way outside. + +I heard people coming and going quietly through the hall below. I heard +doors softly shut and opened. + +I knew, by some intuition, that _he_ was lying in the library. They +moved furniture with a smothered sound; and when I heard two or three +men sent off on messages by Richard, even the horses' hoofs seemed to be +muffled as they struck the ground. This was the effect of the coming in +of death into busy, household life. I had never been under the roof with +it before. + +About dusk a servant came to the door, with a tray of tea and something +to eat, that Mr. Richard had sent her with. + +"No," I said, "don't leave it here." + +But, in a few moments, Richard himself brought it back. I can well +imagine how anxious and unhappy he felt. He had, perhaps, never before +had charge of any one ill or in trouble, and this was a strange +experience. + +"You must eat something, Pauline," he said. "I want you to. Sit up, and +take this tea." + +I was not inclined to dispute his will, but raised my head, and drank +the tea, and ate a few mouthfuls of the biscuit. But that made me too +ill, and I put the plate away from me. + +"I am very sorry," I said, meekly, "but I can't eat it. I feel as if it +choked me." + +He seemed touched with my submissiveness, and, giving Bettina the tray, +stood looking down at me as if he did not know how to say something that +was in his mind. Suddenly my ear, always quick, now exaggeratedly so, +caught sound of carriage-wheels. I started up and cried, "They are +coming," and hid my face in my hands. + +"Don't be troubled," he said, "you shall not be disturbed." + +"Oh, Richard," I exclaimed, as he was going away, after another +undecided movement as if to speak, "you know what I want." + +"Yes, I know," he said, in a low voice. + +"And now they're come, I cannot. They will see him, and I cannot." + +"Be patient. I will arrange for you to go. Don't, don't, Pauline." + +For I was in a sort of spasm, though no tears came, and my sobs were +more like the gasps of a person being suffocated, than like one +in grief. + +"If you will only be quiet, I will take you down, after a few hours, +when they are all gone to their rooms. Pauline, you'll kill me; don't do +so--Pauline, they'll hear you. Try not to do so; that's right--lie down +and try to quiet yourself, poor child. I can't bear to go away; but +there is Sophie on the stairs." + +He had scarcely time to reach the hall before Sophie burst upon him with +almost a shriek. + +"What is this horrible affair, Richard? What a terrible disgrace and +scandal! we never shall get over it. Will it get in the papers, do you +think? I am so ill--I have been in such a state since the news came. +Such a drive home as this has been! Oh, Richard, tell me all about it +quickly. Where is Pauline? how does she bear it?" making for my door. + +Richard put out his hand and stopped her. I had sprung up from the bed, +and stood, trembling violently, at the further extremity of the room. I +do not know what I meant to do if she came in, for I was almost beside +myself at that moment. + +She was persistent, angry, agitated. How well I knew the curiosity that +made her so intent to gain admission to me. It was not so much that I +dreaded being a spectacle, as the horror and hatred I felt at being +approached by her coldness and hypocrisy, while I was so sore and +wounded. I was hardly responsible; I don't think I could have borne the +touch of her hand. + +But Richard saved me, and sent her away angry. I crept back to the bed, +and lay down on it again. I heard the others whispering as they passed +through the hall. Mary Leighton was crying; Charlotte was silent. I +don't think I heard her voice at all. + +After a long while I heard them go down, and go into the dining-room. +They spoke in very subdued tones, and there was only the slightest +movement of china and silver, to indicate that a meal was going on. But +this seemed to give me a more frantic sense of change than anything +else. I flung myself across the bed, and another of those dreadful, +tearless spasms seized me. Everything--all life--was going on just the +same; even in this very house they were eating and drinking as they ate +and drank before--the very people who had talked with him this day; the +very table at which he had sat this morning. Oh! they were so heartless +and selfish: every one was; life itself was. I did not know where to +turn for comfort. I had a feeling of dreading every one, of shrinking +away from every one. + +"Oh!" I said to myself, "if Richard is with them at the table, I never +want to see him again." + +But Richard was not with them. In a moment or two he came to the door, +only to ask me if I wanted anything, and to say he would come back +by-and-by. + +There was a question which I longed so frantically to ask him, but +which I dared not; my life seemed to hang on the answer. _When were they +going to take him away?_ I had heard something about trains and +carriages, and I had a wild dread that it was soon to be. + +I went to the door and called Richard back, and made him understand what +I wanted to know. He looked troubled, and said in a low tone, + +"At four o'clock we go from here to meet the earliest train. I have +telegraphed his friends, and have had an answer. I am going down myself, +and it is all arranged in the best way, I think. Go and lie down now, +Pauline; I will come and take you down soon as the house is quiet." + +Richard went away unconscious of the stab his news had given me. I had +not counted on anything so sudden as this parting. While he was in the +house, while I was again to look upon his face, the end had not come; +there was a sort of hope, though only a hope of suffering, something to +look forward to, before black monotony began its endless day. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN. + + There are blind ways provided, the foredone + Heart-weary player in this pageant world + Drops out by, letting the main masque defile + By the conspicuous portal. + + _R. Browning_. + + + What is this world? What asken men to have? + Now with his love--now in his cold grave-- + Alone, withouten any companie! + + _Chaucer_. + + +The tall old clock, which stood by the dining-room door, had struck two, +and been silent many minutes, before Richard came to me. I had spent +those dreadful hours in feverish restlessness: my room seemed +suffocating to me. I had walked about, had put away my trinkets, I had +changed my dress, and put on a white one which I had worn in the +morning, and had tried to braid my hair. + +The quieting of the house, it seemed, would never come. It was twelve +o'clock before any one came up-stairs. I heard one door after another +shut, and then sat waiting and wondering why Richard did not come, till +the moments seemed to grow to centuries. At last I heard him at the +door, and I went toward it trembling, and followed him into the hall. He +carried a light, for up-stairs it was all dark, and when we reached the +stairway, he took my hand to lead me. I was trembling very much; the +hall below was dimly lit by a large lamp which had been turned low. Our +steps on the bare staircase made so much noise, though we tried to move +so silently. It was weird and awful. I clung to Richard's hand in +silence. He led me across the hall, and stopped before the library-door. +He let go my hand, and taking a key from his pocket, put it in the lock, +turned it slowly, then opened the door a little way, and motioned me +to enter. + +Like one in a trance, I obeyed him, and went in alone. He shut the door +noiselessly, and left me with the dead. + +That was the great, the immense hour of my life. No vicissitude, no +calamity of this mortal state, no experience that may be to come, can +ever have the force, the magnitude of this. All feelings, but a child's +feelings, were comparatively new to me, and here, at one moment, I had +put into my hand the plummet that sounded hell; anguish, remorse, +fear--a woman's heart in hopeless pain. For I will not believe that any +child, that any woman, had ever loved more absolutely, more +passionately, than I had loved the man who lay there dead before me. But +I cannot talk about what I felt in those moments; all that concerns what +I write is the external. + +The--coffin was in the middle of the room, where the table ordinarily +stood--where my chair had been that night, when he told me his story. +Surely if I sinned, in thought, in word, _that_ night, I paid its full +atonement, _this_. Candles stood on a small table at the head of where +he lay, and many flowers were about the room. The smell of +verbena-leaves filled the air: a branch of them was in a vase that some +one had put beside his coffin. The fresh, cool night-air came in from +the large window, open at the top. + +His face was, as Richard said, much as in life, only quieter. I do not +know what length of time Richard left me there, but at last, I was +recalled to the present, by his hand upon my shoulder, and his voice in +a whisper, "Come with me now, Pauline." + +I rose to my feet, hardly understanding what he said, but resisted when +I did understand him. + +"Come with me," he said, gently, "You shall come back again and say +good-bye. Only come out into the hall and stay awhile with me; it is not +good for you to be here so long." + +He took my hand and led me out, shutting the door noiselessly. He took +me across the hall, and into the parlor, where there was no light, +except what came in from the hall. There was a sofa opposite the door, +and to that he led me, standing himself before me, with his perplexed +and careworn face. I was very silent for some time: all that awful time +in the library, I had never made a sound: but suddenly, some thought +came that reached the source of my tears, and I burst into a passion of +weeping. I am not sure what it was: I think, perhaps, the sight of the +piano, and the recollection of that magnificent voice that would never +be heard again, Whatever it was, I bless it, for I think it saved my +brain. I threw myself down upon the sofa, and clung to Richard's hand, +and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. + +Poor fellow! my tears seemed to shake him terribly. Once he turned away, +and drew his hand across his brow, as if it were a little more than he +could bear. But some men, like many women, are born to sacrifice. + +He tried to comfort and soothe me with broken words. But what was there +to say? + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, "What does it all mean? why am I so punished? +was it so very wicked to have loved him after I knew all? Was all this +allowed to come because I did that? Answer me, tell me; tell me what +you think." + +"No, Pauline, I don't think that was it. Don't talk about it now. Try to +be quiet. You are not fit to think about it now." + +"But, Richard, what else can it mean? I know, I know that it is the +truth. God wouldn't have sent such a punishment upon me if he hadn't +seen my sin." + +"It's more likely He sent it to--" and then he paused. + +I know now he meant, it was more likely He had sent it to save me from +the sins of others; but he had the holy charity not to say it. + +"Oh," I cried, passionately, "When all the sin was mine, that he should +have had to die: when he never came near me, never looked at me: when he +would rather die than break his word to me. That night in the library, +after he had told me all, he said, 'I will never look into your eyes +again, I will never touch your hand;' and though we were in the same +room together after that, and in the same house all this time, and +though he knew I loved him so--he never looked at me, he never turned +his eyes upon me; and I--I was willing to sin for him--to die for him. I +would have followed him to the ends of the earth, not twelve hours ago." + +"Hush, Pauline," said Richard huskily, "you don't know what you're +saying--you are a child." + +"No, I'm not a child--after to-day, after to-night--I am not a +child--and I know too well what I say--too well--too well. Richard, you +don't know what has been in my heart. That night, he held me in his arms +and kissed me--when he said good-bye. Then I was innocent, for I was +dazed by grief and had not come to my senses, after what he told me. But +to-day I said--_to-day_--to have his arms around me once again--to have +him kiss me once again as he kissed me then--I would go away from all I +ever had been taught of right and duty, and would be satisfied." + +"Then, thank God for what has come," said Richard, hoarsely, wiping from +his forehead the great drops that had broken out upon it. + +"No!" I cried with a fresh burst of weeping. "No, I cannot thank God, +for I want him back again. _I want him_. I had rather die than be +separated from him. I cannot thank God for taking him away from me. Oh, +Richard, what shall I do? I loved him, loved him so. Don't look so +stern; don't turn away from me. You used to love me. Could you thank God +for taking me away from you, out of your arms, warm, and strong, and +living, and making me cold, and dumb, and stiff, like _that_?" + +"Yes, Pauline, if it had been to save us both from sin." + +"You don't know what love is, if you say that." + +"I know what sin is, better than you do, maybe. Listen, Pauline. I've +loved you ever since I saw you; men don't often love better than I have +loved you; but I'd rather drag you, to-night, to that black river there, +and hold you down with my own hands till the breath left your body, than +see you turn into a sinful woman, and lead the life of shame you tell me +you had it in your heart to lead, to-day." + +"Is it so very awful?" I whispered with a shiver, my own emotion stilled +before his. "I only loved him!" + +"Forget you ever did," he said, rising, and pacing up and down the room. + +I put my hands before my face, and felt as if I were alone in the world +with sin. If this unspoken, passionate, sweet thought, that I had +harbored, were so full of danger as to force God to blast me with such +punishment, as to drive this tender, generous, loving man to wish me +dead, what must be the blackness of the sin from which I had been saved, +if I were saved? If there were, indeed, anything but shocks of woe and +punishment, and deadly despair and darkness, in this strange world in +which I found myself. There was a silence. I rose to my feet. I don't +know what I meant to do or where to go; my only impulse was to hide +myself from the eyes of my companion, and to go away from him, as I had +hidden myself from all others, since I was smitten with this +chastisement. + +"Forgive me, Pauline," he said, coming to my side. "It is the second +time I have been harsh with you this dreadful day. This is what comes of +selfishness. I hope you will forget what I have said." + +I still turned to go away, feeling afraid of him and ashamed before him. +He put out his hand to stop me. + +"Pauline, remember, I have been sorely tried. I would do anything to +comfort you. I haven't another wish in my heart but to be of use +to you." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, bursting into tears afresh, and hiding my eyes, +"if you give me up and drive me away from you, I am all alone. There +isn't another human being that I love or that cares for me. Dear +Richard, do be good to me; do be sorry for me." + +"I am sorry for you, Pauline; you know that." + +"And you will take care of me?" I cried, stretching out my arms toward +him, with a sudden overwhelming sense of my loneliness and destitution. + +"Yes, Pauline, to the end of my life or of yours; as if you were my +sister or almost my child." + +"Dear Richard," I whispered, as I buried my face on his arm, "if it were +not for you I should not live through this dreadful time. I hope I shall +die soon; as soon as I am better. But till I do die, I hope you will be +good to me, and love me." And I pressed his hand against my cheek and +lips, like the poor, frantic, grief-bewildered child that I was. + +At this moment there came a sound of movement in the stables: I heard +one of the heavy doors thrown open, and a man leading a horse across the +stable-floor. (The windows were open and the night was very still.) +Richard started, and looked uneasily at his watch, stepping to the door +to get the light. + +"How late is it?" I faltered. + +"Half-past three," he said, turning his eyes away, as if he could not +bear the sight of my face. I do not like to remember the dreadful +moments that followed this: the misery that I put upon Richard by my +passionate, ungoverned grief. I threw myself upon the floor, I clung to +his knees, I prayed him to delay the hour of going--another hour, +another day. I said all the wild and frantic things that were in my +heart, as he closed the library-door and led me to my room. + +"Try to say your prayers, Pauline," was all he could answer me. + +I did try to say them, as I knelt by the window, and saw in the dull, +gray dawn, those two carriages drive slowly from the door. + +Richard went away alone. Kilian indeed came down-stairs just as he was +starting. + +Sophie had awakened, and called him into her room for a few moments. + +Then he came down, and I saw him get into the carriage alone, and motion +the man to drive on, after that other--which stood waiting a few rods +farther on. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A JOURNEY. + + He, full of modesty and truth, + Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought. + + _Tasso_. + + + Fresh grief can occupy itself + With its own recent smart; + It feeds itself on outward things, + And not on its own heart. + + _Faber_ + + +A thing which surprises me very much in looking over those days of +suffering, is, that during that day a frightful irritability is the +emotion that I most remember--an irritability of feeling, not of +expression: for I lay quite still upon the bed all day, and only +answered, briefly and simply, the questions of Sophie and the maid. + +I could not sleep: it was many hours since I had slept: but nothing +seemed further from possibility than sleeping. The lightest sound +enraged my nerves: the approach of any one made me frantic. I lay with +my hands crushed together, and my teeth against each other, whenever +Sophie entered the room. + +She tried to be sympathetic and kind: but she was not much encouraged. +Toward afternoon, she left me a good deal alone. "I wonder how people +feel when they are going mad," I said, getting up and putting cold water +on my head. I was so engaged with the strange sensations that pursued +me, that I did not dwell upon my trouble. + +"Is this the way you feel when you are going to die? or what happens if +you never go to sleep?" My body was so young and healthy, that it was +making a good fight. + +Just at dusk, Richard returned. In a little while, about half an hour, +Sophie came and told me Richard would like to see me in her little +dressing-room. + +The day of panic and horror was over, and proprieties must begin their +sway. I felt I hated Sophie for making me go out of my own room, but I +pulled a shawl over my shoulders and followed her across the hall into +her little room. There Richard was waiting for me. He gave me a chair, +and then said, "You needn't wait, Sophie," and sat down beside me. + +Sophie went away half angry, and Richard looked at me uneasily. + +"I thought you'd want to see me," he said. + +"Yes," I answered; "I wish you'd tell me everything," but in so +commonplace a voice, I know that he was startled. + +"You do not feel well, do you? Maybe we'd better not talk about it now." + +"Oh, yes. You might as well tell me all to-night." + +"Well, everything is done. The two persons to whom I telegraphed met me +at the station. There was very little delay. I went with them to the +cemetery." + +"I am very glad of that. I thought perhaps you wouldn't go. Was there a +clergyman, or don't they have a clergyman when--when--" + +"There was a clergyman," said Richard, briefly. + +"I hope you'll take me there some time," I said dreamily. "Should you +know where to go--exactly?" + +"Exactly," he answered. "But, Pauline, I am afraid you havn't rested at +all to-day. Have you slept?" + +"No; and I wish I could; my head feels so strangely--light, you +know--and as if I couldn't think." + +"Haven't you seen the Doctor?" + +"No--and that's what I want to say. I _won't_ have the Doctor here; and +I want you to take me home to-morrow morning, early, I have put a good +many of my clothes into my trunk, and Bettina will help me with the +rest to-night. Isn't there any train before the five o'clock?" + +"No," said Richard, uneasily. "Pauline, I think you'd better not arrange +to go away to-morrow." + +"If you don't take me out of this house I shall go mad. I have been +thinking about it all day, and I know I shall." + +Richard was silent for a moment, then, with the wise instinct of +affection, wonderful in man, and in a man who had had no experience in +dealing with diseased or suffering minds, he acquiesced in my plan to +go; told me that we would take the earliest train, and interested me in +thoughts about my packing. About nine o'clock he came to my room-door, +and I heard some one with him. It was the Doctor. + +I turned upon Richard a fierce look, and said, very quietly, he might go +away, for I would not see the Doctor. After that, they tried me with +Sophie, but with less success; and, finally, Richard came back alone, +with a glass in his hand. + +"Take this, Pauline, it will make you sleep." + +I wanted to sleep very much, so I took it. + +Bettina had finished my packing, and had laid my travelling dress and +hat upon a chair. + +"Shall Bettina come and sleep on the floor, by your bed?" asked Richard, +anxiously. + +"No, I would not have her for the world." + +"Maybe you might not wake in time," said Richard, warily. + +That was very true: so I let Bettina come. Richard gave her some +instructions at the door, and she came in and arranged things for the +night, and lay down on a mattress at the foot of my bed. + +The sedative which the Doctor sent did not work very well. I had very +little sleep, and that full of such hideous, freezing dreams, that every +time I woke, I found Bettina standing by my bed, looking at me with +alarm. I had been screaming and moaning, she said, The screaming and +moaning and sleeping (such as it was), were all over in about two hours, +and then I had the rest of the night to endure, with the same strange, +light feeling in my head--the restlessness not much, but +somewhat abated. + +I was very glad that Bettina was in the room, for though she was sleepy, +and always a little stupid, she was human, and I was a coward, both in +the matter of loneliness and of suffering. I made her sit by me, and +take hold of my hand, and I asked her several times if she had ever been +with any one that died, or that--I did not quite dare to ask her about +going mad. + +My questions seemed to trouble her. She crossed herself, and shuddered, +and said, No, she had never been with any one that died, and she prayed +the good God never to let her be. + +"You'll have to be with one person that dies, Bettina. That's yourself. +You know it's got to come. We've all got to go out at that gate," and I +moaned, and turned my face away. + +"Let me call Mr. Richard," said Bettina, very much afraid. I would have +given all the world to have seen Richard then; but I knew it was +impossible, and I said, No, it would soon be morning. + +Long before morning, I heard Richard up and walking about the house. We +were to leave the house at half-past four. By four, all the trunks, and +shawls, and packages, were strapped and ready, and I was sitting +dressed, and waiting by the window. + +Bettina liked very much better to pack trunks, and put rooms in order, +than to sit still and hold a person's hot hands, in the middle of the +night, and have dreadful questions asked her; and she had been very +active and efficient. Soon Richard called her to come down and take my +breakfast up to me. I could not eat it, and it was taken away. Then the +carriage came, and the wagon to take the baggage. Finally, Richard came, +and told me it was time to start, if I were ready. + +Sophie came into the room in a wrapper, looking very dutiful and +patient, and said all that was dutiful and civil. But I suppose I was a +fiery trial to her, and she wished, no doubt, that she had never seen +me, or better, that Richard never had. All this I felt, through her +decently framed good-bye, but I did not care at all; to be out of her +sight as soon as possible, was all that I requested. + +When we went down in the hall, Richard looked anxiously at me, but I did +not feel as if I had ever been there before; I really had no feeling. I +said good-bye to Bettina, who was the only servant that I saw, and +Richard put me into the carriage. When, we drove away, I did not even +look back. As we passed out of the gate, I said to him, "What day of the +month is it to-day?" + +"It is the first of September," he returned. + +"And when did I come here?" I asked. + +"Early in June, was it not?" he said. "You know I was not here." + +"Then it is not three months," and I leaned back wearily in the +carriage, and was silent. + +Before we reached the city, Richard had good reason to think that I was +very ill. He made me as comfortable as he could, poor fellow! but I was +so restless, I could not keep in one position two minutes at a time. +Several times I turned to him and said, "It is suffocating in this car; +cannot the window be put up?" and when it was put up, I would seem to +feel no relief, and in a few moments, perhaps, would be shaking with a +nervous chill. It must have been a miserable journey, as I remember it. +Once I said to Richard, after some useless trouble I had put him to, "I +am very sorry, Richard, I don't know how to help it, I feel so +dreadfully." + +Richard tried to answer, but his voice was husky, and he bent his head +down to arrange the bundle of shawls beneath my feet. I knew that there +were tears in his eyes, and that that was the reason that he did not +speak. It made me strangely, momentarily grateful. + +"How strange that you should be so good," I said dreamily, "when Sophie +is so hateful, and Kilian is so trifling. I think your mother must have +been a good woman." + +I had never talked about Richard's mother before, never even thought +whether he had had one or not, in my supreme and light-hearted +selfishness. But the mind, at such a point as I was then, makes strange +plunges out of its own orbit. + +"And she died when you were little?" + +"Yes, when I was scarcely twelve years old." + +"A woman ought to be very good when it makes so much difference to her +children. Richard, did my uncle ever tell you anything about my +mother--what sort of a woman she was, and whether I am like her?" + +"He never said a great deal to me about it," Richard answered, not +looking at me as he talked. "He thinks you are like her, very +strikingly, I believe." + +"Think! I haven't even a scrap of a picture of her, and no one has ever +talked to me about her. All I have are some old yellow letters to my +father, written before I was born. I think she loved my father very +much. The noise of these cars makes me feel so strangely. Can't we go +into the one behind? I am sure it cannot be so bad." + +"This is the best car on the train, Pauline. I know the noise is very +bad, but try to bear it for a little while. We shall soon be there." And +so on, through the weary journey. + +At one station Richard got out, and I saw him speaking to several men. I +believe he was hoping to find a doctor, for he was thoroughly +frightened. + +Before we reached the city I was past being frightened for myself, for I +was suffering too much to think of what might be the result of my +condition. When we left the cars, and Richard put me in a carriage, the +motion of the carriage and its jarring over the stones were almost +unendurable. Richard was too anxious now to say much to me. The +expression of relief on his face as we reached Varick-street was +unspeakable. He hurried up the steps and rang the bell, then came back +for me, and half carried me up the steps. + +The door was opened by Ann Coddle, who was thrown into a helpless state +of amazement by seeing me, not knowing why in this condition I did come, +or why I came at all. She shrieked, and ejaculated, and backed almost +down the basement stairs. Richard sternly told her she was acting like a +fool, and ordered her to show him where Miss Pauline's room was, that he +might take her to it. + +"But her room isn't ready," ejaculated Ann, coming to herself, which was +a wretched thing to come to, as poor Richard found. + +"Not ready? well, make it ready, then. Go before me and open the +windows, and I will put her on the sofa till you have the bed ready +for her." + +"The sofa--oh, Mr. Richard, it's all full of her dear clothes that have +come up from the wash." + +"Well, then, take them off--idiot--and do as you are told." + +"Oh, Miss Pauline--oh, my poor, dear lamb. Oh, I'm all in a flutter; I +don't know what to do. I'd better call the cook." + +"Well, call the cook, then," said Richard, groaning, "only tell her to +be quick." + +All this time Richard was supporting me up the stairs. As we reached the +top, Richard called out, "Tell Peter I want him at once, to take a +message for me." + +Ann was watching our progress up the stairs, with groans and +ejaculations, forgetting that she was to call the cook. At the mention +of Peter she exclaimed, + +"He's laid up with the rheumatism, Mr. Richard. Oh, whatever shall we +do!" + +When we reached the middle of the second pair of stairs, I was almost +helpless; Richard took me in his arms, and carried me. + +"Is it this door, Pauline dear?" he said, opening the first he came to. + +I should think the room had not been opened since I went away, it was so +warm and close. + +Richard carried me to the sofa, and scattered the _lingerie_ far and +wide as he laid me down upon it, and went to open the windows. Then he +went to the bell and pulled it violently. In a few moments the cook came +up (accompanied by Ann). She was a huge, unwieldy woman, but she had +some intelligence, and knew better than to whimper. + +"Miss Pauline is ill," he said, "and I want you to stay by her, and not +leave her for a moment, till I come back. Make that woman get the room +in order instantly, and keep everything as quiet as you can." To me: "I +am going to bring a doctor, and I shall be back in a few moments. Do not +worry, they will take good care of you." + +When I heard Richard shut the carriage-door and drive away rapidly, I +felt as if I were abandoned, and by the time he returned with the +Doctor, I was in a state that warranted them in supposing me +unconscious, tossing and moaning, and uttering inarticulate words. + +The Doctor stood beside me, and talked about me to Richard with as much +freedom as if I had been a corpse. + +"I may as well be frank with you," he said, after a few moments of +examination. "I apprehend great trouble from the brain. How long has she +been in this condition?" + +"She has been unlike herself since yesterday; as soon as I saw her, at +seven o'clock last night, I noticed she was looking badly. She answered +me in an abstracted, odd way, and was unlike herself, as I have said. +But she had been under much excitement for some time." + +"Tell me, if you please, all about it; and how long she has been under +this excitement." + +"She has been often agitated, and quite overstrained in feeling for some +time. Three weeks ago I thought her looking badly. Two days ago she had +a frightful shock--a suicide--which she was the first to discover. Since +then I do not think that she has slept." + +"Ah! poor young lady. She has had a terrible experience, and is paying +for it. Now for what we can do for her. In the first place, who takes +care of her?" with a look about the room. + +"You may well ask. I have just brought her home, and find here, the +man-servant ill, one woman too old and inactive to perform much service, +and another to whom I would not trust her for a moment. I must ask +_you_, who shall I get to take care of her?" + +"You have no friend, no one to whom you could send in such a case? One +of life and death,--I hope you understand?" + +"None," answered Richard, with a groan. "There is not a person in the +city to whom I could send for help. All my family--all our friends, are +away. Is there no one that can be got for money--any money? no nurse +that you could recommend?" + +"I have a list of twenty. Yesterday I sent to every one, for a dangerous +case of hemorrhage, and could not find one disengaged. It may be +to-morrow night before you get on the track of one that is at liberty, +if you hunt the city over. And this girl is in need of instant care; her +life hangs on it, you must see." + +"In God's name, then," said Richard, with a groan, pacing up and down +the room, "what am I to do?" + +"In _His_ name, if you come, to that," said the Doctor, who was a good +sort of man, notwithstanding his professional cool ways, "there is a +sisterhood, that I am told offer to do things like this. I never sent to +them, for I only heard of it a short time ago; but if you have no +objection to crosses, and caps, and ritualistic nonsense in its highest +flower, I have no doubt, that they will let you have a sister, and that +she'll do good service here." + +"The direction," said Richard, too eager to be civil. "How am I to get +there?" + +The Doctor pulled over a pocket-case of loose papers, and at last found +one, which he handed his companion. + +"I give you three quarters of an hour to get back," he said. "I will +stay here till then, at all events. Do not waste any time--nor spare any +eloquence," he added to himself, as Richard hurried from the room. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SISTER MADELINE. + + Yes! it is well for us: from these alarms, + Like children scared, we fly into thine arms; + And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout + With a swift faith which has not time to doubt. + + _Faber._ + + + Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend + Towards a higher object. Love was given, + Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; + For this the passion to excess was driven--- + That self might be annulled; her bondage prove + The fetters of a dream, opposed to love. + + _Wordsworth_. + + +The next thing that I recall, is rousing from slumber, or something +related to slumber, and seeing a tall woman in the dress of a sister, +standing by my bed. It was night, and there was a lamp upon a table +near. The unusual dress, and the unfamiliarity of her whole appearance, +made me start and stare at her, half raising myself in the bed. + +"Why did you come here?" I said. "Who sent for you?" + +"I came because you were sick and suffering, and I was sent in the Name +----" and bending her head slightly, she said a Name too sacred for +these pages. + +I gave a great sigh of relief, and sank back on my pillow. Her answer +satisfied me, for I was not able to reason. I let her hold my hand; and +all through that dark and troubled time submitted to her will, and +desired her presence, and was soothed by her voice and touch. + +Sister Madeline was not at all the ideal sister, being tall and dark, +and with nothing peculiarly devotional or pensive in her cast of +feature. Her face was a fine, earnest one. Her movements were full of +energy and decision, though not quick or sharp. The whole impression +left was that of one by nature far from humility, tenderness, devotion; +but, by the force of a magnificent faith, made passionately humble, +devout from the very heart, more than humanly compassionate and tender. + +I never felt toward her as if she were "born so"--but as if she were +rescued from the world by some great effort or experience; as if it were +all "made ground," reclaimed from nature by infinite patience and +incessant labor. She lived the life of an angel upon the earth. I never +saw her, by look, by word, or tone, transgress the least of the +commandments, so wonderful was the curb she held over all her human +feelings. Nor was this perfection attained by a sudden and grand +sacrifice; the consecration of herself to the religious life was not the +"single step 'twixt earth and heaven," but it was attained by daily and +hourly study--by the practice of a hundred self-denials--by the most +accurate science of spiritual progress. + +Doubtless, saints can be made in other ways, but this is one way they +can be made, starting with a sincere intention to serve God. At least, +so I believe, from knowing Sister Madeline. + +She made a great change in my life, and I owe her a great deal. It is +not strange I feel enthusiasm for her. I cannot bear to think what my +coming back to life would have been without her. + +Of the alarming nature of my illness, I only know that there were +several days when Richard never left the house, but waited, hour after +hour, in the library below, for the news of my condition, and when even +Uncle Leonard came home in the middle of the day, and walked about the +house, silent and unapproachable. + +One night--how well I remember it! I had been convalescent, I do not +know how long; I had passed the childish state of interest in my +_bouilli_, and fretfulness about my _peignoir_; my mind had begun to +regain its ordinary power, and with the first efforts of memory and +thought had come fearful depression and despondency. I was so weak, +physically, that I could not fight against this in the least. Sister +Madeline came to my bedside, and found me in an agony of weeping. It was +not an easy matter to gain my confidence, for I thought she knew nothing +of me, and I was not equal to the mental effort of explaining myself; +she was only associated with my illness. But at last she made me +understand that she was not ignorant of a great deal that troubled me. + +"Who has told you?" I said, my heart hardening itself against Richard, +who could have spoken of my trouble to a stranger. + +"You, yourself," she answered me. + +"I have raved?" I said. + +"Yes." + +"And who has heard me?" + +"No one else. I sent every one else from the room whenever your delirium +became intelligible." + +This made me grateful toward her; and I longed for sympathy. I threw my +arms about her and wept bitterly. + +"Then you know that I can never cry enough," I said. + +"I do not know that," she answered. After a vain attempt to soothe me +with general words of comfort, she said, with much wisdom, "Tell me +exactly what thought gives you the most pain, now, at this moment." + +"The thought of his dreadful act, and that by it he has lost his soul." + +"We know with Whom all things are possible," she said, "and we do not +know what cloud may have been over his reason at that moment. Would it +comfort you to pray for him?" + +"Ought I?" I asked, raising my head. + +"I do not know any reason that you ought not," she returned. "Shall I +say some prayers for him now?" + +I grasped her hand: she took a little book from her pocket, and knelt +down beside me, holding my hand in hers. Oh, the mercy, the relief of +those prayers! They may not have done him any good, but they did me. The +hopeless grief that was killing me, I "wept it from my heart" that hour. + +"Promise me one thing," I whispered as she rose, "that you will read +that prayer, every hour during the day, to-morrow, by my bed, whether I +am sleeping or awake." + +"I promise," she said, and I am sure she kept her word, that day and +many others after it. + +During my convalescence, which was slow, I had no other person near me, +and wanted none. Uncle Leonard came in once a day, and spent a few +minutes, much to his discomfort and my disadvantage. Richard I had not +seen at all, and dreaded very much to meet. Ann Coddle fretted me, and +was very little in the room. + +Over these days there is a sort of peace. I was entering upon so much +that was new and elevating, under the guidance of Sister Madeline, and +was so entirely influenced by her, that I was brought out of my trouble +wonderfully. Not out of it, of course, but from under its crushing +weight. I know that I am rather easily influenced, and only too ready to +follow those who have won my love. Therefore, I am in every way thankful +that I came at such a time under the influence of a mind like that of +Sister Madeline. + +But the time was approaching for her to go away. I was well enough to do +without her, and she had other duties. The sick-room peace and +indulgence were over, and I must take up the burden of every-day life +again. I was very unhappy, and felt as if I were without stay +or guidance. + +"To whom am I to go when I am in doubt?" I said; "you will be so far +away." + +"That is what I want to arrange: the next time you are able to go out, I +want to take you to some one who can direct you much better than I." + +"A priest?" I asked. "Tell me one thing: will he give me absolution?" + +"I suppose he will, if he finds that you desire it." + +"What would be the use of going to him for anything else?" I said. "It +is the only thing that can give me any comfort." + +"All people do not feel so, Pauline." + +"But you feel so, dear Sister Madeline, do you not? You can understand +how I am burdened, and how I long to have the bands undone?" + +"Yes, Pauline, I can understand." + +I am not inclined to give much weight to my own opinions, and as for my +feelings, I know they were, then, those of a child, and in many ways +will always be. I can only say what comforted me, and what I longed for. +There had always been great force to me, in the Scripture that says, +"Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them, and whosesoever +sins ye retain, they are retained," even before I felt the burden of +my sins. + +I had once seen the ordination of a priest, and I suppose that added to +the weight of the words ever after in my mind. I never had any doubt of +the power then conferred, and I no sooner felt the guilt and stain of +sin upon my soul, than I yearned to hear the pardon spoken, that Heaven +offered to the penitent. I had been tangibly smitten; I longed to be +tangibly healed. + +Whatever shame and pain there was about laying bare my soul before +another, I gladly embraced it, as one poor means at my command of +showing to Him whom I had offended, that my repentance was actual, that +I stopped at no humiliation. + +It may very well be that these feelings would find no place in larger, +grander, more self-reliant natures; that what healed my soul would only +wound another. I am not prepared to think that one remedy is cure for +all diseases, but I know what cured mine. I bless God for "the soothing +hand that Love on Conscience laid." I mark that hour as the beginning of +a fresh and favored life; the dawning of a hope that has not yet +lost its power + + "to tame + The haughty brow, to curb the unchastened eye, + And shape to deeds of good each wavering aim." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE HOUR OF DAWN. + + Slowly light came, the thinnest dawn, + Not sunshine, to my night; + A new, more spiritual thing, + An advent of pure light. + + All grief has its limits, all chastenings their pause; + Thy love and our weakness are sorrow's two laws. + + +The winter that followed seemed very long and uneventful. After Sister +Madeline went away, my days settled themselves into the routine in which +they continued to revolve for many months. I was as lonely as formerly, +save for the companionship of well-chosen books, and for the direction +of another mind, which I felt to be the truest support and guidance. I +was taught to bend to my uncle's wishes, and to give up constant +church-going, and visiting among the poor, which would have been such a +resource and occupation to me. And so my life, outwardly, was very +little changed from former years--years that I had found almost +insupportable, without any sorrow; and yet, strange to say, I was +not unhappy. + +My hours were full of little duties, little rules. (I suppose my heart +was in them, or I should have found them irksome.) Above all, I was not +permitted to brood over the past: I was taught to feel that every +thought of it indulged, was a sin, and to be accounted for as such: I +could only remember the one for whom I mourned, on my knees, in my +prayers. This checked, as nothing else could have done, the morbid +tendency of grief, in a lonely, unoccupied, undisciplined mind. I was +thoroughly obedient, and bent myself with all simplicity to follow the +instructions given me. Sometimes they seemed very irrelevant and +useless, but I never rebelled against any, even one that seemed as hard +to flesh and blood as this. And I have, sooner or later, seen the wisdom +of them all, as I have worked out the problem of my correction. + +Obedient as I was, though, and simple as the routine of my life +continued, sometimes there came crises that were beyond my strength. + +I can remember one; it was a furious storm--a day that nailed one in the +house. There was something in the rage without that disturbed me; I +wandered about the house, and found myself unable to settle to any task. +Some one to speak to! Oh, it was so dreary to be alone. I went into my +uncle's room where there were many books. Among those that were there I +found one in French, (I have no idea how it came there, I am sure my +uncle had never read it.) I carelessly turned it over, and finally +became absorbed in it. I came upon this passage: + + Quel plus noir abîme d'angoisse y a-t-il an monde que le + coeur d'un suicide? Quand le malheur d'un homme est dû à + quelque circonstance de sa vie, on pent espérer de l'en voir + délivrer par un changement qui pent survenir dans sa + position. Mais lorsque ce malheur a sa source en lui; quand + c'est l'âme elle-même qui est le tourment de l'âme; la vie + elle-même qui est le fardeau de la vie; que faire, que de + reconnaître en gémissant qu'il n'y a rien à faire--rien, + selon le monde; et qu'un tel homme, plus à plaindre que ce + prisonnier que l'histoire nous peint dans les angoisses de la + faim, se repaissant de sa propre chair, est réduit à dévorer + la substance même de son âme dans les horreurs de son + désespoir. Et qu'imagine-t-il done pour échapper à lui-même, + comme à son plus cruel ennemi? Je ne dis pas: 'Où ira-t-il + loin de l'esprit de Dieu? où fuira-t-il loin de sa face?' Je + demande, où ira-t-il loin de son propre esprit? où fuira-t-il + loin de sa propre face? Où descendra-t-il qu'il ne s'y suive + lui-même; où se cachera-t-il qu'il ne s'y trouve encore? + Insensé, dont la folie égale la misère, quand tu te seras + tué, on dira: 'Il est mort;' mais ce sont les autres qui le + diront; ce ne sera pas toi-même. Tu seras mort pour ton + pays, mort pour ta ville, mort pour ta famille; mais pour + toi-même, pour ce qui pense en toi, hélas! pour ce qui + souffre en toi, tu vivras toujours. + + Et comment ne sens-tu pas, que pour cesser d'être malheureux, + ce n'est pas ta place qu'il faut changer, c'est ton coeur. + Que tu disparaisses sous les flots, qu'un plomb meurtrier + brise ta tête, ou qu'un poison subtil glace tes veines; quoi + que tu fasses, et où que tu ailles, tu n'y peux aller qu'avec + toi-même, qu'avec ton coeur, qu'avec ta misère! Que dis-je? + Tu y vas avec un compte de plus à rendre, à la rencontre du + grand Dieu qui doit te juger; tu y vas avec l'éternité de + plus pour souffrir, et le temps de moins pour te repentir! + + A moins que tu ne penses peut-être, parceque l'oeil de + l'homme n'a rien vu au-delà de la tombe, que cette vie n'ait + pas de suite. Mais non, tu ne saurais le croire! Quand tous + les autres le penseraient, toi, tu ne le pourrais pas. Tu as + une preuve d'immortalité qui t'appartient en propre. Cette + tristesse qui te consume, est quelque chose de trop intime et + de trop profond pour se dissoudre avec tes organes, et ce qui + est capable de tant souffrir ne pent pas s'aller perdre dans + la terre. Les vers hériteront de la poussière de ton corps, + mais l'amertume de ton âme, qui en héritera? Ces extases + sublimes, ces tourments affreux; ces hauteurs des cieux, ces + profondeurs des abîmes; qu'y a-t-il d'assez grand ou d'assez + abaissé, d'assez élevé ou d'assez avili pour les revêtir en + ta place? Non, tu ne saurais jamais croire que tout meurt + avec le corps; ou si tu le pouvais tu n'en serais que plus + insensé, plus misérable encore. + +It is proof how child-like I had been, how obedient in suppressing all +forbidden thoughts, that these words smote me with such horror. I had +indulged in no speculation; I had never thought of him as haunted by the +self he fled; as still bound to an inexorable and inextinguishable life, + + "With time and hope behind him cast, + And all his work to do with palsied hands and cold." + +The terrors I had had, had been vague. I had thought dimly of +punishment, more keenly of separation. If I had analysed my thoughts, I +suppose I should have found annihilation to have been my belief--death +forever, loss eternal. But this--if this were truth--(and it smote me as +the truth alone can smite), oh, it was maddening. To my knees! To my +knees! Oh, that I might live long years to pray for him! Oh, that I +might stretch out my hands to God for him, withered with age and shrunk +with fasting, and strong but in faith and final perseverance! Oh, it +could not be too late! What was prayer made for, but for a time like +this? What was this little breath of time, compared with the Eternal +Years, that we should only speak _now_ for each other to our merciful +God, and never speak for each other afterward? Spirits are forever; and +is prayer only for the days of the body? + +It was well for me that none of the doubts that are so often expressed +had found any lodgment in my brain; if I had not believed that I had a +right to pray for him, and that my prayers might help him, I cannot +understand how I could have lived through those nights and days +of thought. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +APRSÉ PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN. + + What to those who understand + Are to-day's enjoyments narrow, + Which to-morrow go again, + Which are shared with evil men, + And of which no man in his dying + Taketh aught for softer lying? + + +It was now early spring: the days were lengthening and were growing +soft. Lent (late that year) was nearly over. I had begun to think much +about the summer, and to wonder if I were to pass it in the city. There +was one thing that the winter had developed in me, and that was, a sort +of affection for my uncle. I had learned that I owed him a duty, and had +tried to find ways of fulfilling it; had taken a little interest in the +house, and had tried to make him more comfortable. Also I had prayed +very constantly for him, and perhaps there is no way more certain of +establishing an affection, or at least a charity for another, than that. + +In return, he had been a little more human to me than formerly, had +shown some interest in my health, and continued appreciation of the fact +that I was in the house. Once he had talked to me, for perhaps half an +hour, about my mother, for which I was unspeakably grateful. Several +times he had given me a good deal of money, which I had cared much less +about. Latterly he had permitted me to go to church alone, which had +seemed to me must be owing to Richard's intervention. + +Richard had been almost as much as formerly at the house: my uncle was +becoming more and more dependent on him. For myself, I did not see as +much of him as the year before. We were always together at the table, of +course. But the evenings that Richard was with my uncle, I thought it +unnecessary for me to stay down-stairs. Besides, now, they almost always +had writing or business affairs to occupy them. + +It was natural that I should go away, and no one seemed to notice it. +Richard still brought me books, still arranged things for me with my +uncle (as in the matter of going to church alone), but we had no more +talks together by ourselves, and he never asked me to go anywhere with +him. At Christmas he sent me beautiful flowers, and a picture for my +room. Sophie I rarely saw, and only longed never to see Benny was +permitted to come and spend a day with me, at great intervals, and I +enjoyed him more than his mother or his uncle. + +One day my uncle went down to his office in his usual health; at three +o'clock he was brought home senseless, and only lived till midnight, +dying without recovering speech or consciousness. It was a sudden +seizure, but what everybody had expected; everybody was shocked for the +moment, and then wondered that they were. It was very appalling to me; I +was so unhappy, I almost believed I loved him, and I certainly mourned +for him with simplicity and affection. + +The preparations for the funeral were so frightful, and all the thoughts +it brought so unnerving, that I was almost ill. A great deal came upon +me, in trying to manage the wailing servants, and in helping Richard in +arrangements. + +It was the day after the funeral; I was tired, out, and had lain down on +the sofa in the dining-room, partly because I hated to be alone +up-stairs, and partly because it was not far from lunch-time, and I felt +too weary to take any needless steps. I don't think ever in my life +before I had lain down on that sofa, or had spent two hours except, at +the table, in that room. It was a most cheerless room, and no one ever +thought of sitting down in it, except at mealtime. I closed the shutters +and darkened it to suit my eyes, which ached, and I think must have +fallen asleep. + +The parlor was the room which adjoined the dining-room (only two large +rooms on one floor, as they used to build), and separated from it by +heavy mahogany columns and sliding-doors. These doors were half-way +open, and I was roused by voices in the parlor. As soon as I recovered +myself from the sudden waking, I recognized Sophie's and then Richard's. +I wondered what Richard was doing up-town at that hour, and so Sophie +did too, for she asked him very plainly. + +"I thought I ought to come to see Pauline," she said, "but I did not +suppose I should find you here in the middle of the day." + +"There is something that I've got to see Pauline about at once," he +said, "and so I was obliged to come up-town." + +"Nothing has happened?" she said interrogatively. + +"No," he answered, evasively. + +But she went on: "I suppose it's something in relation to the will; I +hope she's well provided for, poor thing." + +"Sophie," said her brother, with a change of tone, "You'll have to hear +it some time, and perhaps you may as well hear it now. It is that that I +have come up-town about; there has been some strange mistake made; there +is no will." + +"No will!" echoed Sophie, "Why, you told me once--" + +"That he had left her everything. So he told me twice last year; so I +have always believed to be the case. Since the day he died, the most +faithful search has been made; there is not a corner of his office, of +his library, of his room, that I have not hunted through. He was so +methodical in business matters, so exact in the care of his papers, that +I had little hope, after I had gone through his desk. I cannot +understand it. It is altogether dark to me." + +"What can have made him change his mind about it, Richard? Can he have +heard anything about last summer?" + +"Not from me, Sophie. But I have sometimes thought he knew, from +allusions that he has made to her mother's marriage, more than once +this winter." + +"He was very angry about that, at the time, I suppose?" + +"Yes, I imagine so. The man she married was poor, and a foreigner: two +things he hated. I never heard there was anything against him but +his poverty." + +"How can he have heard about Mr. Langenau?" said Sophie, musingly. + +"I think Pauline must have told him," said Richard. + +"Pauline? never. She is much too clever; she never told him. You may be +quite sure of _that_." + +"Pauline clever! Poor Pauline!" said Richard, with a short, sarcastic +laugh, which had the effect of making Sophie angry. + +"I am willing," she said, "that she should be as stupid and as good as +you can wish--. To whom does the money go?" she added, as if she had not +patience for the other subject. + +"To a brother, with whom he had a quarrel, and whom he had not seen for +over sixteen years." + +"Incredible!" + +"But there had been some sort of a reconciliation, at least an exchange +of letters, within these three months past." + +"Ah!" + +"And it is in consequence of hearing from him, and being pressed by his +lawyer for an immediate settlement of the estate, that I have come up to +tell Pauline, and to prepare her for her changed prospects." + +"And what do you propose to advise?" asked Sophie, with a chilling +voice. + +"Heaven knows, Sophie," answered her brother, with a heavy sigh. "I see +nothing ahead for the poor girl, but loneliness and trial. She is +utterly unfit to struggle with the world. And she has not even a shelter +for her head." + +"Richard," interrupted his sister, with intensity of feeling in her +voice, "I see what you are trying to persuade yourself: do not tell me, +after what has passed, you still feel that you are bound to her--" + +"_Bound!_" exclaimed Richard, with a vehemence most strange in him, as, +pacing the room, he stood still before his sister. His back was toward +me. She was so absorbed she did not see me as I darted past the +folding-doors into the hall. As I flew panting up to my own room, I +remember one feeling above all others, the first feeling of affection +toward the house that I had ever had. It was mine no longer, my home +never again; I had no right to stay in it a moment: my own room was not +mine any more--the room where I had learned to pray, and to try to lead +a good life--the room where I had lain when I was so near to death--the +room where Sister Madeline had led me to such peaceful, quiet thoughts. +I had but one wish now, not to see Richard, to escape Sophie, to get +away forever from this house to which I had no right. I pulled down my +hat and my street things, and dressed so quickly, that I had slipped +down the stairs, and out into the street, before they had ceased talking +in the parlor. I heard their voices, very low, as I passed through the +hall. I fully meant never to come back to the house again--not to be +turned out. + +My heart swelled as the door closed behind me. It was dreadful not to +have a home. I was so unused to being in the street alone, that I felt +frightened when I reached the cars and stopped them. + +I was going to Sister Madeline. She would take me, and keep me, and +teach me where to live, and how. I was a little confused, and got out at +the wrong street, and had to walk several blocks before I reached +the house. + +The servant at the door met me with an answer that made me wonder +whether there were anything else to happen to me on that day. + +Sister Madeline had been called away--had gone on a long +journey--something about the illness of her brother; and I must not come +inside the door, for a contagious disease was raging, and the orders +were strict that no one be admitted. I had walked so fast, and in such +excitement of feeling, that I was weak and faint when I turned to go +down the steps. Where should I go? I walked on slowly now, and +undecided, for I had no aim. + +The clergyman to whom I had gone for direction in matters spiritual, was +ill--for two weeks had given up even Lenten duties. Anything--but I +could not go home, or rather where home had been. I walked and walked +till I was almost fainting, and found myself in the Park. There the +lovely indications of spring, and the quiet, and the fresh air, soothed +me, and I sat down under some trees near the water, and rested myself. +But the same giddy whirl of thoughts came back, the same incompetency to +deal with such strange facts, and the same confusion. I do not know how +long I wandered about; but I was faint and weary and hungry, and +frightened too, for people were beginning to look at me. + +It began to force itself upon me that I must go back to Varick-street +after all, and take a fresh start. Then I began to think how I should +get back, on which side must I go to find the cars--where was I, +literally. Then I sat down to wait, till I should see some policeman, or +some kind-looking person, near me, to whom I could apply for this very +necessary information. In the meantime I took out my purse to see if I +had the proper change. Verily, not that, nor any change at all! My heart +actually stood still. Yes, it was very true: I had given away, right +and left, during this Lent: caring nothing for money, and being very +sure of more when this was gone. I was literally penniless. I had not +even the money to ride home in the cars. + +Till a person has felt this sensation, he has not had one of the most +remarkable experiences of life. To know where you can get money, to feel +that there is some _dernier ressort_ however hateful to you, is one +thing; but to _know_ that you have not a cent--not a prospect of getting +one--not a hope of earning one--no means of living--this is suffocation. +This is the stopping of that breath that keeps the world alive. + +The bench on which I happened to be sitting was one of those pretty, +little, covered seats, which jut out into the lake. I looked down into +the water as I sat with my empty purse in my lap, and remembered vaguely +the many narratives I had seen in the newspapers about unaccounted-for +and unknown suicides. I could see how it might be inevitable--a sort of +pressure, a fatality that might not be resisted. Even cowardice might be +overcome when that pressure was put on. + +It is a very amazing thing to feel that you have no money, nor any means +of getting even eightpence: it chokes you: you feel as if the wheel had +made its last revolution, and there was no power to make it turn again. +It is not any question of pride, or of independence, when it comes +suddenly; it is a feeling of the inevitable; you do not turn to others. +You feel your individual failure, and you stand alone. + +For myself, this was my reflection: I had not even a shelter for my +head; Richard had said so. I had not a cent of money, and I had no means +of earning any. The uncle who was coming to take possession of the house +and furniture, was one whom I had been taught to distrust and dread. He +would, perhaps, not even let me go into my room again, and would turn me +out to-morrow, if he came: my clothes--were _they_ even mine, or would +they be given to me, if they were? This uncle had reproached Uncle +Leonard once for what he had done for me. I had even an idea that it was +about my mother's marriage that the quarrel had occurred. And hard as I +had regarded Uncle Leonard, he had been the soft-hearted one of the +brothers, who had sheltered the little girl (after he had thrown off the +mother, and broken her poor heart). + +The house in Varick-street would be broken up. What would become of the +cook, and Ann Coddle? It would be easier for them to live than for me. + +They could get work to do, for they knew how to work, and people would +employ them. I--I could do nothing, I had been taught to do nothing. I +had never been directed how to hem a handkerchief. I had tried to dust +my room one day, and the effort had tired me dreadfully, and did not +look very well, as a result. I could not teach. I had been educated in a +slipshod way, no one directing anything about it--just what it occurred +to the person who had charge of me to put before me. + +I had intended to throw myself upon Sister Madeline. But what then? What +could she have done for me? I had asked her months before if I could not +be a sister, and had been discouraged both by her and by my director. I +believe they thought I was too young and too pretty, and, in fact, had +no vocation. No doubt they thought I might soon look upon things +differently, when my trouble was a little older. + +And Richard--I did not give Richard many thoughts that day, for my heart +was sore, when I remembered all his words. He had always thought that I +was to be rich; perhaps that had made him so long patient with me. He +had said I was not clever; he had seemed to be very sorry for me. He +might well be. Sophie had asked him if he were still bound to me. I had +not heard all his answer, but he had spoken in a tone of scorn. I did +not want to think about him. + +There was no whither to turn myself for help. And the clergyman, who had +been more than kind to me, who had seemed to help me with words and +counsel out of heaven,--he was cut off from my succor, and I stood +alone--I, who was so dependent, so naturally timid, and so +easily mistaken. + +It was a dreary hour of my life, that hour that I sat looking over at +the water of the pretty placid lake. I don't like to recall it. Some one +passed by me, gave an exclamation of surprise, and came back hastily. It +was Richard. He seemed so glad, and so relieved to see me--and to me it +was like Heaven opening; notwithstanding my vindictive thoughts about +him, I could have sprung into his arms; I felt protected, safe, the +moment he was by me. I tried to speak, and then began to cry. + +"I've been looking for you these last two hours," he said, sitting down +beside me. "I came up-town to see you, and found you had gone out. I +thought you would not be likely to go anywhere but to see Sister +Madeline, and there the servant told me you had come this way. I could +not find you here, and went back to Varick-street, then was frightened +at hearing you had not come back, and returned again to look for you. +What made you stay so long? Something has happened. Tell me what you are +crying for." + +I had no talent for acting, and not much discretion when I was excited; +and he found out very soon that I knew what had befallen me. (I think he +believed that Sophie had told me of it.) + +"Were you very much surprised?" he said. "Had you supposed that you +would be his heiress?" + +"Why, no. I had not thought anything about it. I am afraid I have not +thought much about anything this winter. I must have been very +ungrateful, as well as childish, for I never have felt as if it were +fortunate that I had a home, and as much money as I wanted. I did not +care anything about being rich, you know--ever." + +"No, I know you did not. I was sure you would have been satisfied with a +very moderate provision." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, clasping my hands together, "if he had left me a +little--just a little--just a few hundred dollars, when he had so much, +to have kept me from having to work, when I don't know how to work, and +am such a child." + +"Work!" he exclaimed, looking down at me as if I were something so +exquisite and so precious, that the very thought was profanation. +"Work! no, Pauline, you shall not have to work." + +"But what can I do?" I said, "I have nothing--and you know it; not a +shelter; not the money to pay for my breakfast to-morrow morning. Not a +person to whom I have a right to go for help; not a human being who is +bound to care for me. Oh, I don't care what becomes of me; I wish that +it were time for me to die." + +Richard got up, and paced up and down the little platform with an +absorbed look. + +"It was so strange," I went on, "when he seemed this winter to take a +little notice of me, and to want to have me near him. I really almost +thought he cared for me. And when I was so ill last Fall, don't you +remember how often he used to come up to my room?" + +"I remember--yes. It is all very strange." + +"And some days early in the winter, when I could scarcely speak at +table, I was so unhappy, he would look at me so long, and seem to think. +And then would be very kind and gentle afterward, and do something to +show he liked me--give me money, you know, as he always did." + +"Tell me, Pauline: did he ever ask you anything about last summer, or +did you ever tell him?" + +"No, Richard, I could never have spoken to him about it; and he never +asked me. But I know he saw that I was not happy." + +"Pauline," said Richard, after a pause, and as if forcing himself to +speak, "there is no use in disguising from you what your position is: +you know it yourself, enough of it, at least, to make you understand why +I speak now. I don't know of any way out of it, but one; and I feel as +if it were ungenerous to press that on you now, and, Heaven knows, I +would not do it if I could think of anything else to offer to you. You +know, Pauline, that if you will marry me, you will have everything that +you need, as much as if your uncle had left you everything." + +He did not look at me, but paced up and down the platform, and spoke +with a thick, husky voice. + +"You know it's been the object of my life, ever since I knew you, but I +don't want that to influence you. I know it is too soon, a great deal +too soon. And I would not have done it, if I could have seen anything +else to do, or if you could have done without me." + +I must have been deadly pale, for when at last he looked at me, he +started. + +"I don't know how it is," he said, with a groan, "I always have to give +you pain, when, Heaven knows, I'd give my life to spare you every +suffering. I can't see any other way to take care of you than the way I +tell you of, and yet, I have no doubt you think me cruel, and selfish, +to ask you to do it now. It does seem so, and yet it is not. If you knew +how much it has cost me to speak, you would believe it." + +"I do believe it," I said, trying to command my voice. "I think you have +always been too good and kind to me. But I can't tell you how this makes +me feel. Oh, Richard, isn't there any, any other way?" + +"Perhaps there may be," he said, with a bitter and disappointed look, +"but I do not know of it." + +"Oh, Richard, do not be angry with me. Think how hard it is for me +always to be disappointing you. I have a great deal of trouble!" + +"Yes, Pauline, I know you have," he said, sitting down by me, and taking +my hand in a repentant way. "You see I'm selfish, and only looked at my +own disappointment just that minute. I thought I had not any hope that +you might not mind the idea of marrying me; but you see, after all, I +had. I believe I must have fancied that you were getting over your +trouble: you have seemed so much brighter lately. But now I know the +truth; and now I know that what I do is simply sacrifice and duty. A man +must be a fool who looks for pleasure in marrying a woman who has no +love for him. And I say now, in the face of it all, marry me, Pauline, +if you can bring yourself to do it. I am the only approach to a friend +that you have in the world. As your husband, I can care for you and +protect you. You are young, your character is unformed, you are ignorant +of the world. You have no home, no protection, literally none, and I am +afraid to trust you. You need not be angry if I say so. I think I've +earned the right to find some faults in you. I don't expect you to love +me. I don't expect to be particularly happy; but there are a good many +ways of serving God and doing one's duty; and if we try to serve him and +to live for duty, it will all come out right at last. You will be a +happier woman, Pauline, if you do it, than if you rebel against it, and +try to find some other way, and put yourself in a subordinate place, or +a place of dependence, and waste your life, and expose yourself to +temptation. No, no, Pauline, I cannot see you do it. Heaven knows, I +wish you had somebody else to direct you. But it has all come upon me, +and I must do the best I can. I think any one else would advise the +same, who had the same means of judging." + +"I will do just what you think best," I said, almost in a whisper, +getting up. + +"That is right," he answered, in a husky voice, rising too, and putting +my cloak about my shoulders, which had fallen off. "You will see it +will be best." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON. + + But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, + Are governed with a goodly modesty, + That suffers not a look to glance away, + Which may let in a little thought unsound. + + _Spenser_. + + + Vouloir ce que Dieu veut est la seule science + Qui nous met en repos. + + _Malherbe_. + + +Richard had obtained for me (with difficulty), from the lawyer of the +new uncle who had arisen, the privilege of remaining in the house for +another month, undisturbed in any way. At the end of those four weeks I +was to be married to him, one day, quietly in church, and to go away. It +was very hard to have to see Sophie, and be treated with ignominy, for +doing what I did not want to do; it was very hard to make preparations +to leave the only place I wanted to stay in now; it was very hard to be +tranquil and even, while my heart was like lead. But I had begun to +discover that that was the general order of things here below, and it +did not amaze me as it had done at first. I was doing my duty, to the +best of my discernment, and was not to be deterred by all the lead in +the world. + +It was very well for Richard to say, he did it for sacrifice and for +duty. I have no doubt at first he did it greatly for those two things: +but he grew happier every day, I could see. He was very considerate of +my sadness, and always acted on the basis on which our engagement was +begun, never keeping my hand in his, or kissing me, or asking any of the +trifling favors of a lover. + +He was grave and silent: but I could see the change in his face; I could +see that he was more exacting of every moment that I spent away from +him; he kept near me, and followed me with his eyes, and seemed never to +be satisfied with his possession of me. + +He bought me the most beautiful jewels, (he had made great strides +toward fortune in the last six months, and was a rich man now in +earnest,) and though he never clasped them on my throat or wrist, nor +even fitted a ring on my finger, I could feel his eyes upon me, +hungering for a smile, a word of gratitude. + +And who would not have been grateful? But it was "too soon, a great deal +too soon," as he had said himself. I was very grateful, but I would +have been glad to die. + +I have wondered whether he saw it or not, I rather think not. I was very +submissive and gentle, and tried to be bright, and I think he was so +absorbed in the satisfaction of my promise, so intent upon his plans for +making me happy, and for making me love him, that he made himself +believe there was no heart of lead below the tranquillity he saw. + +It was the third week since my uncle's death. The next week was to come +the marriage, on Wednesday, the 19th of May. + +"Marriages in May are not happy," said Ann Coddle. + +"I did not need you to tell me that," I thought. + +It was on Thursday, the 13th; Richard had come up a little earlier, in +the evening. It grew to be a little earlier every evening. + +"By-and-by he will not go down-town at all, at this rate," I said to +myself, when I heard his ring that night. + +I was sitting by the parlor-lamp, with the evening paper in my lap, of +which I had not read a word. He came and sat down by the table, and we +talked a little while. I tried to find things to talk about, and +wondered if it always would be so. I felt as if some day I should give +out entirely, and have to go through bankruptcy. (And take a +fresh start.) + +He never seemed to feel the want of talking; I suppose he was quite +satisfied with his thoughts, and with having me beside him. + +By-and-by, he said he should have to go up to the library, and look over +the last of some books of my uncle's, and finish an inventory that he +had begun. Could I not bring my work and sit there by him? I felt a +little selfish, for we were already on the last week, and I said I +thought I would sit in the parlor. I had to write a letter to Sister +Madeline. I had not heard a word from her yet, though I had +written twice. + +Why could not I write in the library? + +I always liked to be alone when I wrote letters: I could not think, when +any one was in the room. Besides, trying to smile, he would be sure +to talk. + +He looked disappointed, and lingered a good while before he went away. +As he rose to go away he threw into my lap a little package, saying, + +"There is some white lace for you. Can't you use it on some of your +clothes? I don't know anything about such things: maybe it isn't pretty +enough, but I thought perhaps it would do for that lilac silk you +talked of." + +I opened the package: it was exquisite, fit for a princess; and as I +bent over it, I thought, how dead I must be, that it gave me no pleasure +to know it was my own, for I had loved such baubles so, a year ago. + +"What a mass of it!" I exclaimed, unfolding yard on yard. + +"You must always wear lace," he said, throwing one end of it over my +black dress around the shoulder. "I like you in it. I am tired of those +stiff little linen collars." + +The lace had given me a little compunction about not spending the +evening with him: but as I had said so, I could not draw back; so I +compromised the matter by going up to the library with him, to see that +he was comfortable, before I came down to write my letter. + +I brought the little student-lamp from my own room and lit it, and put +it on the library-table, and brought him some fresh pens, and opened the +inkstand for him, even pushed up the chair and put a little footstool by +it. Though he was standing by the bookshelves, and seemed to be +engrossed by them, I knew that he was watching me, filled with content +and satisfaction. + +"Do you remember where that box of cigars was put?" he said, turning to +me as I paused. That was to keep me longer; for they were on the shelf, +half a yard from where he stood. + +I got the cigar-box and put it on the table. + +"Now you will want some matches, and this stand is almost empty." So I +took it away with me to my room, and came back with it filled. + +"Is there anything else that I can do?" I said, pausing as I put it on +the table. + +"No, Pauline. I believe not. Thank you." + +I think that moment Richard was nearer to happiness than he had ever +been before. Poor fellow! + +I went down-stairs, feeling quite easy in mind, and sat down to my +letter. That threw me back into the past, for to Sister Madeline I +poured out my heart. An hour went by, and I had forgotten Richard and +the library. I was recalled to the present by hearing some books fall on +the floor (the library was over the parlor); and by hearing Richard's +step heavily crossing the room. I started up, pushed my letter into my +portfolio, and wiped away my tears, quite frightened that Richard should +see me crying. To my surprise, he came hurriedly down the stairs, passed +the parlor-door, opened the hall-door, and shutting it heavily after +him, was gone, without a word to me. This startled me for a moment, it +was so unusual. But my heart was not enough engaged to be wounded by the +slight, and I very soon returned to my letter and my other thoughts. + +When I went up to bed, I stopped in the library, and found the lamp +still burning, the pens unused, a cigar, which had been lighted, but +unsmoked, lying on the table. A book was lying on the floor at the foot +of the bookshelf, where I had left Richard standing. I picked it up. +"This was the last book that Uncle Leonard ever read," I said to myself, +turning its pages over. I remembered that he had it in his hand the last +night of his life, when I bade him goodnight. I was not in the room the +next day, till he was brought home in a dying state. + +Ann had put the books in order, and arranged them, after he went +down-town in the morning. + +I wondered whether Richard knew that that was the last book he had been +reading, and I put it by, to tell him of it in the morning when he came. +But in the morning Richard did not come. Unusual again; and I was for an +hour or two surprised. He always found some excuse for coming on his way +down-town: and it was very odd that he should not want to explain his +sudden going away last night. But, as before, my lack of love made the +wound very slight, and in a little time I had forgotten all about it, +and was only thinking that this was Friday--and that Wednesday was +coming very near. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A REVERSAL + + All this is to be sanctified, + This rupture with the past; + For thus we die before our deaths, + And so die well at last. + + _Faber_. + + +Dinner-time came, and passed, and still Richard did not come. At eight +o'clock Ann brought the tea, as usual, and it stood nearly an hour upon +the table; and then I told her to take it away. + +By this time I had begun to feel uneasy. Something must have happened. +It would necessarily be something uncomfortable, perhaps something that +would frighten me, and give me another shock. And I dreaded that so; I +had had so many. But perhaps, dreadful though it might be, it would +bring me a release. Perhaps Richard was only angry with me, and _that_ +might bring me a release. + +At nine o'clock I heard a ring at the bell, and then his step in the +hall. He was slower than usual in coming in; everything made me feel +confused and apprehensive. When he opened the door and entered, I was +trying to command myself, but I forgot all about myself when I saw +_him_. His face was white, and he looked haggard and harassed, as if he +had gone through a year of suffering since last night, when I left him +with the lamp and cigar in the library. + +I started up and put out my hand. "What is it, Richard? You are in some +trouble." + +He said no, and tried to speak in an ordinary tone, sitting down on the +sofa by my chair. + +I was confused and thrown back by this, and tried to talk as if nothing +had been said. + +"Will you have a cup of tea?" I asked; "Ann has just taken it away." + +He said absently, yes, and I rang for Ann to bring the tea, and then +went to the table to pour it out. + +He sat with his face leaning on his hand on the arm of the sofa, and did +not seem to notice me till I carried the cup to him, and offered it. +Then he started, and looked up and took it, asking my pardon, and +thanking me. + +"Are you not going to have one yourself?" he said, half rising. + +"No, I don't want any to-night. Tell me if yours is right." + +"Yes, it is very nice," he said absently, drinking some. Then rising +suddenly, he put the cup on the mantleshelf, and said to me, "Send Ann +away, I want to talk to you." + +I told Ann I would ring for her when I wanted her, and sat down by the +lamp again, with many apprehensions. + +"You asked me if anything had happened, Pauline, didn't you?" he said. + +"No," I answered. "But I was sure that something had, from the way you +looked when you came in." + +"It is something that--that changes things very much for you, Pauline," +he resumed, with an effort, "and makes all our arrangements +unnecessary--that is, unless you choose." + +I looked amazed and frightened, and he went on. + +"I made a discovery last night in the library. The will is found, +Pauline." + +I started to my feet, with my hands pressed against my heart, waiting +breathlessly for his next word. + +"Everything is left to you--and I have come to tell you, you are +free--if you desire to be." + +"Oh, thank God! Thank God!" I cried; then covering my face with my +hands, sank back into my seat, and burst into tears. + +He turned from me and walked to the other end of the room; each of us +lived much in that little time. + +For myself, I had accepted my bondage so meekly, so dutifully, that I +did not know the weight it had been upon me till it was suddenly taken +off. I did not think of him--I could only think, there was no next +Wednesday, and I could stay where I was. It was like the sudden +cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it was Heaven. I was +crying for joy. But at last the reaction came, and I had to think +of him. + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, going toward him, (he was sitting by the window, +and his hand concealed his eyes.) "I don't know what you think of me, I +hope you can forgive me." + +He did not speak, and I felt a dreadful pang of self-reproach. + +"Richard," I said, crying, and taking hold of his hand, "I am ashamed of +myself for being glad. I will marry you yet, if you want me to. I know +how good you have been to me. I know I am ungrateful and abominable." + +Still he did not speak. His very lips were white, and his hand, when I +touched it, did not meet mine or move. + +"You are angry with me," I cried, bursting into a flood of tears. "Oh, +how you ought to hate me. Oh, I wish we had never seen each other. I +wish I had been dead before I brought you all this trouble. Richard, do +look at me--do speak to me. Don't you believe that I am sorry? Don't you +know I will do anything you want me to?" + +He seemed to try to speak--moved a little, as a person in pain might do, +but, bending his head a little lower on his hand, was silent still. + +"Richard," I said, after several moments' silence, speaking +thoughtfully--"it has all come to me at last. I begin to see what you +have been to me always, and how badly I have treated you. But it must +have been because I was very young, and did not think. I am sure my +heart was not so bad, and I mean to be different now. You know I have +not had any one to teach me. Will you let me try and make you happy?" + +"No, Pauline," he said at last, speaking with effort. "It is all over +now, and we will never talk of it again." + +I was silent for many minutes--standing before him with irresolution. +"If it was right for me to marry you before," I said at last, "Why is it +not right now, if I mean to do my duty?" + +"No, it is no longer right, if it ever was," he answered. "I will not +take advantage of your sense of duty now, as I was going to take +advantage of your necessity before. No, you are free, and it is all +at an end." + +"You are unjust to yourself. You were not taking advantage of my +necessity. You were saving me, and I am ashamed of myself when I think +of everything. Oh, Richard, where did you learn to be so good!" + +A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned away from me. + +"If you give me up," I said timidly, "who will take care of me?" + +"There will be plenty now," he answered bitterly. + +"There wasn't anybody yesterday." + +"But there will be to-morrow. No, Pauline," he said, lifting his head +and speaking in a firmer voice, "What I thought I was doing, till this +showed me my heart, and how I had deceived myself, I will do now, even +if it kills me. I thought I was acting for your good, and from a sense +of duty: now that I know what is for your good, and what is my duty, I +will go on in that, and nothing shall turn me from it, so help +me Heaven." + +"At least you will forgive me," I said, with tears, "for all the things +that I have made you suffer." + +"Yes," he said, with some emotion, "I shall forgive you sooner than I +shall forgive myself. I cannot see that you have been to blame." + +"Ah," I cried, hiding my face with shame, when I thought of all my +selfishness and indifference, and the return I had made him for his +devoted love. "I know how I have been to blame; and I am going to pay +you for your goodness and care by breaking your heart for you--by +upsetting all your plans. Oh, Richard! You had better let it all go on! +Think how everybody knows about it!" + +He shook his head. "I don't care a straw for that," he said. And I am +sure he did not. + +"No," he said firmly, getting up, and walking up and down the room; "it +is all over, and we must make the best of it. I shall still have +everything to do for you under the will; and while you mustn't expect me +to see you often, just for the present time, at least, you know I shall +do everything as faithfully as if nothing had occurred. You must write +to me whenever you think my judgment or advice would do you any good. +And I shall be always looking after things that you don't understand, +and taking care of your interests, whether you hear from me or not. +You'll always be sure of that, whatever may occur." + +"Oh," I faltered, with a sudden frightened feeling of loneliness and +loss, in the midst of my new freedom, "I can't feel as if it were +all over." + +"I don't know how this terrible mistake about the will occurred," he +went on, without noticing what I said: "it was only a--mercy that I +found it when I did. It was between the leaves of a book, an old volume +of Tacitus; I took it down to look at the title for the inventory, and +it fell out." + +"That was the book he had in his hand when I saw him last, that night +before he died." + +"Yes? Then after you went up-stairs I suppose he was thinking of you, +and he took out the will to read it over, and maybe left it out, meaning +to lock it up again in the morning." + +"And in the morning he was not well," I said, "and perhaps went away +leaving it lying on the book; I remember, Ann said there were several +papers lying on the table, when she arranged the room." + +"No doubt," said Richard, "she shut it up in the book it laid on, and +put it on the shelf. But it is all one how it came about. The will is +all correct and duly executed. One of the witnesses was a clerk, who +returned yesterday from South America, where he had been gone for +several months. The other is lying ill at his home in Westchester, but I +have sent to-day and had his deposition taken. It is all in order, and +there can be no dispute." + +I think at that moment I should have been glad if it had been found +invalid. There was something so inevitable and final in Richard's plain +and practical words. + +Evidently a great change had come in my life, and I could not help it if +I would. I could not but feel the separation from the person upon whom I +had leaned so long, and who had done everything for me, and I knew this +separation was to be a final one; Richard's words left no doubt of that. + +"What you'd better do," he said, leaning by the mantelpiece, "is to tell +the servants about this--this--change in your plans, to-morrow; unpack, +and settle the house to stay here for the present. In the course of a +couple of months it will be time enough to make up your mind about where +you will live. I think, till the will is admitted and all that, you had +better keep things as they are, and make no change." + +He had been so used to thinking for me, that he could not give it up at +once. "I will tell Sophie to-morrow," he went on. "It will not be +necessary for you to see her if she should come before she hears of it +from me." (Sophie had an engagement with me to go out on the following +morning. He seemed to to have forgotten nothing.) + +"What will Sophie think of me?" I said, with my eyes on the floor. +"Richard, it looks very bad for me; when I was poor, I was going to +marry you, and now that I have money left me, I am going to break +it off." + +"What difference does it make how it looks," he said, "when you know you +have done right? I will tell Sophie the truth, that it was my doing both +times, and that you only yielded to my judgment in the matter. Besides, +if she judges you harshly, it need not make much matter to you. You will +never again be thrown intimately with her, I suppose." + +"No, I suppose not," I said faintly. I was being turned out of my world +very fast, and it was not very clear what I was going to get in exchange +for it (except freedom). + +"I will send you up money to-morrow morning," he went on, "to pay the +servants, and all that. The clerk I shall send it by, is the one that I +shall put in charge of your matters. You can always draw on him for +money, or ask him any questions, or call on him for any service, in case +I should be away, or ill, or anything." + +"You are going away?" I said interrogatively. + +"It is possible, for a while--I don't know. I haven't made up my mind +definitely about what I am going to do. But in case I _should_ be away, +I mean, you are to call on him." + +"I understand." + +"Anything he tells you, about signing papers, and such things, you may +be sure is all right." + +"Yes." + +"But don't do anything, without consulting me, for anybody else, +remember." + +"I'll remember," I said absently and humbly. It was no wonder Richard +felt I needed somebody to take care of me! + +"I believe there's nothing else I wanted to say to you," he said at +last, moving from the mantelpiece where he had been standing; "at least, +nothing that I can't write about, when it occurs to me." + +"Oh, Richard!" I said, beginning to cry again, as I knew that the moment +of parting had come, "I don't understand you at all. I think you take it +very calm." + +"Isn't that the way to take it?" he said, in a voice that was, +certainly, very calm indeed. + +I looked up in his face: he was ten years older. I really was frightened +at the change in him. + +"Oh!" I exclaimed, putting my face down in my hands, "I wasn't worth +all I've made you suffer." + +"Maybe you weren't," he said simply, "But it wasn't either your fault or +mine--and you couldn't help it--that I wanted you." + +He made a quick movement as he passed the table, and my work-basket fell +at his feet, and a little jewel-box rolled across the floor. It was a +ring he had brought me, only three days before. + +He stooped to pick it up, and I saw his features contract as if in pain, +as he laid it back upon the table. And his voice was unsteady, as he +said, not looking at me while he spoke, "I hope you won't send any of +these things back. If there's anything you're willing to keep, because I +gave it to you, I'd like it very much. The rest send to your church, or +somewhere. I don't want to have to look at them again." + +By this time I was sobbing, and, sitting down by the table, had buried +my face on my arms. + +"I'm sorry that it makes you feel so," he said, "but it can't be helped. +Don't cry, I can't bear to see you cry. Good-bye, Pauline; God +bless you." + +And he was gone. I did not realize it, and did not lift my head, till I +heard the heavy sound of the outer door closing after him. + +Then I knew it was all over, and that things were changed for me +indeed. + +"I cannot cry and get over it as you can," he had said. + +And if tears would have got me over it, I should have been cured that +night. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MY NEW WORLD. + + Few are the fragments left of follies past; + For worthless things are transient. Those that last + Have in them germs of an eternal spirit, + And out of good their permanence inherit. + + _Bowring_. + + + Nor they unblest, + Who underneath the world's bright vest + With sackcloth tame their aching breast, + The sharp-edged cross in jewels hide. + + _Keble_. + + +From eighteen to twenty-four--a long step; and it covers the ground that +is generally the brightest and gayest in a woman's life, and the most +decisive. With me it was, in a certain sense, bright and gay; but the +deciding events of my life seemed to have been crowded into the year, +the story of which has just been told. Of the six years that came after, +there is not much to tell. My character went on forming itself, no +doubt, and interiorly I was growing in one direction or the other; but +in external matters, there is not much of interest. + +I had "no end of money," so it seemed to me, and to a good many other +people, I should think, from the way that they paid me court. I don't +see why it did not turn my head, except that I was what they call +religious, and dreadfully afraid of doing wrong. I was not my own +mistress exactly, either, for I had some one to direct my conscience, +though that was the only direction that I ever had. I had not the +smallest restriction as to money from Richard (to whom the estate was +left in trust); and it had been found much to exceed his expectations, +or those of anybody else. + +I had the whole world before me, where to go and what to choose; not +very much stability of character, and the greatest ignorance; a +considerable share of good looks, and the love of pleasure inseparable +from youth and health; absolutely no authority, and any amount of +flattery and temptation. I think it must be agreed, it was a happy thing +for me that I was brought under the influence of Sister Madeline, and +that through her I was made to feel most afraid of sin, and of myself; +and that the life within, the growth in grace, and the keeping clear my +conscience, was made to appear of more consequence than the life +without, that was so full of pleasures and of snares. + +I often think now of the obedience with which I would give up a party, +stay at home alone, and read a good book, because I had been advised to +do it, or because it was a certain day; of the simplicity with which I +would pat away a novel, when its interest was at the height, because it +was the hour for me to read something different, or because it was +Friday, or because I was to learn to give up doing what I wanted to. + +These things, trivial in themselves, and never bound upon my conscience, +only offered as advice, had the effect of breaking up the constant +influence of the world, giving me a little time for thought, and +opportunity for self-denial. I cannot help thinking such things are very +useful for young persons, and particularly those who have only ordinary +force and resolution. At least, I think they were made a means of +security to me. I was so in earnest to do right, that I often thought, +in terror for myself, in the midst of alluring pleasures and delights, +it was a pity they had not let me be a Sister when I wanted to at first. +(I really think I had more vocation than they thought: I could have +_given up_, to the end of life, without a murmur, if that is what is +necessary.) As to the people who wanted to marry me, I did not care for +any of them, and seemed to have much less coquetry than of old. They +simply did not interest me, (of course, in a few years, I had outgrown +the love that I had supposed to be so immortal.) It was very pleasant to +be always attended to, and to have more constant homage than any other +young woman whom I saw. But as to liking particularly any of the men +themselves, it never occurred to me to think of it. + +I was placed by my fortunate circumstances rather above the intrigue, +and detraction, and heart-burning, that attends the social struggle for +life in ordinary cases. If I were envied, I did not know it, and I had +small reason to envy anybody else, being quite the queen. + +I enjoyed above measure, the bright and pleasant things that I had at my +command: the sunny rooms of my pretty house: the driving, the sailing, +the dancing: all that charms a healthy young taste, and is innocent. I +took journeys, with the ecstasy of youth and of good health. I never +shall forget the pleasure of certain days and skies, and the enjoyment +that I had in nature. In society, I had a little more weariness, as I +grew older, and found a certain want of interest, as was inevitable. +Society isn't all made up of clever people, and even clever people get +to be tiresome in the course of time. But at twenty-four I was by no +means _blasé_, only more addicted to books and journeys, and less +enthusiastic about parties and croquet, though these I could enjoy a +little yet. + +I had a pretty house (and re-furnished it very often, which always gave +me pleasure). I had no care, for Richard had arranged that I should have +a very excellent sort of person for duenna, who had a good deal of tact, +and didn't bore me, and was shrewd enough to make things very smooth. I +liked her very much, though I think now she was something of a +hypocrite. But she had enough principle to make things very respectable, +and I never took her for a friend. We had very pretty little dinners, +and little evenings when anybody wanted them, though the house wasn't +very large. My duenna (by name Throckmorton) liked journeys as well as I +did, and never objected to going anywhere. Altogether we were very +comfortable. + +The people whom I had known in that first year of my social existence, +had drifted away from me a good deal in this new life. Sophie I could +not help meeting sometimes, for she was still a gay woman, but I +naturally belonged to a younger set, and did not go very long into +general society. We still disliked each other with the cordiality of our +first acquaintance, but I was very sorry for it, and had a great many +repentances about it after every meeting. Kilian I met a good deal, but +we rather avoided each other, at short range, though exceedingly good +friends to the general observation. + +Mary Leighton I seldom saw; no doubt she was consumed with envy when she +heard of me, for they were poor, and not able to keep up with gay life +as would have pleased her. She still maintained her intimacy with +Kilian, for he had not the resolution to break off a flirtation of +which, I was sure, he must be very tired. + +Henrietta had married very well, two years after I saw her at R----, and +was the staid, placid matron that she was always meant to be. + +Charlotte Benson was the clever woman still: a little stronger-minded, +and no less good-looking than of old, and no more. People were beginning +to say that she would not marry, though she was only twenty-six. She did +not go much to parties, and was not in my set. She affected art and +lectures, and excursions to mountains, and campings-out, and +unconventionalities, and no doubt had a good time in her way. But it was +not my way: and so we seldom met. When we did, she did not show much +more respect for me than of old, which always had the effect of making +me feel angry. + +And as for Richard, we could not have been much further apart, if he +had lived "in England and I at Rotterdam." For a year, while he was +settling up the estate, he was closely in the city. I did not see him +more than once or twice, all business being transacted through his +lawyer, and the clerk of whom he had spoken to me. After the business +matters of the estate were all in order, he went away, intending, I +believe, to stay a year or two. But he came back before many months were +over, and settled down into the routine of business life, which now +seemed to have become necessary to him. + +Travel was only a weariness to him in his state of mind; and work, and +city-life, seemed the panacea. He did not live with Sophie, but took +apartments, which he furnished plainly; and seemed settling down, +according to his brother, into much of the sort of life that Uncle +Leonard had led so many years in Varick-street. + +Sophie still went to R----, and I often heard of the pleasant parties +there in summer. But Richard seldom went, and seemed to have lost his +interest in the place, though I have no doubt he spent more money on it +than before. I heard of many improvements every year. + +And Richard was now a man of wealth, so much so that people talked about +him; and the newspapers said, in talking about real-estate, or +investments, or institutions of charity--"When such men as Richard +Vandermarck allow their names to appear, we may be sure," etc., etc. He +was now the head of the firm, and one of the first business men of the +city. He seemed a great deal older than he was; thirty-seven is young to +occupy the place he held. + +Such a _parti_ could not be let alone entirely. His course was certainly +discouraging, and it needs tough hopes to live on nothing. But stranger +things had happened; more obdurate men had yielded; and unappropriated +loveliness hoped on. The story of an early attachment was afloat in +connection with his name. I don't know whether I was made to play a part +in it or not. + +I saw him, perhaps, twice a year, not oftener. His manner was always, to +me, peculiarly grave and kind; to every one, practical and unpretending. +I had many letters from him, particularly when I was away on journeys. +He seemed always to want to know exactly where I was, and to feel a care +of me, though his letters never went beyond business matters, and advice +about things I did not understand. + +As my guardian, he could not have done less, nor was it necessary that +he should do more; still I often wished it would occur to him to come +and see me oftener, and give me an opportunity of showing him how much +I had improved, and how different I had become. I had the greatest +respect for his opinion; and he had grown, unconsciously to myself, to +be a sort of oracle with me, and a sort of hero, too. + +I was apt to compare other men with him, and they fell very far short of +his measure in my eyes. That may have been because I saw him much too +seldom, and the other men much too often. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU. + + Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, + And love me still, but know not why; + So hast thou the same reason still + To doat upon me ever! + + +"It's very nice to be at home again," I said to Mrs. Throckmorton, as I +broke a great lump of coal in pieces, and watched the flames +with pleasure. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Throckmorton, putting another piece of sugar in her +coffee, for she was still at the table. "That is, if you call this home; +I must confess it doesn't feel so to me altogether." + +"Well, it's our own dear, noisy, raging, racketing, bustling old city, +if it isn't our own house, and I'm sure we're very comfortable." + +"Very," said Mrs. Throckmorton, who was always pleased. + +"Every time I hear the tinkle of a car-bell, or the roar of an omnibus, +I feel a thrill of pleasure," I said; "I never was so glad to get +anywhere before." + +"That's something new, isn't it?" said Mrs. Throckmorton, briefly. + +"I don't know; I think I am always glad to get back home." + +"And very glad to go away again too, my dear." + +"I don't think I shall travel any more," I returned. "The fact is, I am +getting too old to care about it, I believe." + +Mrs. Throckmorton laughed, being considerably over forty, and still as +fond of going about as ever. + +We were only _de retour_ two days. We had started eighteen months ago, +for at least three years in Europe, and I had found myself unaccountably +tired of it at the end of a year and a half; and here we were. + +Our house was rented, but that I had not allowed to be any obstacle, +though Mrs. Throckmorton, who was very well satisfied with the easy life +abroad, had tried to make it so. I had secured apartments which were +very pretty and complete. We had found them in order, and we had come +there from the steamer. I was eminently happy at being where I wanted +to be. + +"How odd it seems to be in town and have nobody know it," I said, +thinking, with a little quiet satisfaction, how pleased several people I +could name would be, if they only knew we were so near them. + +"Nobody but Mr. Vandermarck, I suppose," said Mrs. Throckmorton. + +"Not even he," I answered, "for he can't have got my letter yet; it was +only mailed the day we started. It was only a chance, you know, our +getting those staterooms, and we were in such a hurry. I was so much +obliged to that dear, old German gentleman for dying. We shouldn't have +been here if he hadn't." + +"Pauline, my dear!" + +"Well, I can't think, as he's probably in heaven, that he can have +begrudged us his tickets to New York." + +"I should think not," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with a little sigh. For +New York was not heaven to her, and she had spent a good deal of the day +in looking up the necessary servants for our establishment, which, +little as it was, required just double the number that had made us +comfortable abroad. + +She had too much discretion to trouble me with her cares, however, so +she said cheerfully, after a few moments, by way of diverting my mind +and her own-- + +"Well, I heard some news to-day." + +"Ah!"--(I had been unpacking all day; and Mrs. Throckmorton in the +interval of servant-hunting had not been able to refrain from a visit or +two, _en passant_ to dear friends.) + +"Yes: Kilian Vandermarck was married yesterday." + +"Yesterday! how odd. And pray, who has he married? Not Mary Leighton, I +should hope." + +"Leighton. Yes, that's the name. No money, and a little _passé_. +Everybody wonders." + +"Well, he deserves it. That is even-handed justice, I'm not sorry for +him. He's been trifling all his days, and now he's got his punishment. +It serves Sophie right, too. I know she can't endure her. She never +thought there was the slightest danger. But I'm sorry for Richard, that +he's got to have such a girl related to him." + +"Oh, well," said Mrs. Throckmorton, "I don't know whether that'll affect +him very much, for they say he's going to be married too." + +"Richard!" + +"Yes; and to that Benson girl, you know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Mary Ann. She's heard it half a dozen times, she says. I believe it's +rather an old affair. His sister made it up, I'm told. The young lady's +been spending the summer with them, and this autumn it came out." + +"I don't believe it." + +"I'm sure I don't know; only that's the talk. It would be odd, though, +if we'd just come home in time for the wedding. You'll have to give her +something handsome, being your guardian, and all." + +I wouldn't give her anything, and she shouldn't marry Richard, I +thought, as I leaned back in my chair and looked into the fire; a great +silence having fallen on us since the delivery of that piece of news. + +I said I didn't believe it, and yet I'm afraid I did. It was so like a +man to give in at last; at least, like any man but Richard. He had +always liked Charlotte Benson, and known how clever she was, and Sophie +had been so set upon it, (particularly since Richard had had so much +money that he had given her a handsome settlement that nothing would +affect.) And now that Kilian was married and would have the place, +unless Richard wanted it, it was natural that Sophie should approve +Richard having _his_ wife there instead of Kilian having his; Kilian's +being one that nobody particularly approved. + +Yes, it did sound very much like probability. I wasn't given to +self-analysis; but I acknowledged to myself, that I was very much +disappointed, and that if I had known that this was going to happen, I +should have stayed in Europe. + +I had never felt as if there were any chance of Richard marrying any +one; I had not said to myself, that his love for me still had an +existence, nor had I any reason to believe it. But the truth had been, +I had always felt that he belonged to me, and was my right, and I felt a +bitter resentment toward this woman, who was supposed to have usurped my +place. How _dared_ Richard love anybody else! I was angry with him, and +very much hurt, and very, very unhappy. + +Long after Mrs. Throckmorton went to her middle-aged repose, I sat up +and went through imaginary scenes, and reviewed the situation a hundred +times, and tried to convince myself of what I wanted to believe, and +ended without any satisfaction. + +One thing was certain. If Richard was going to marry Charlotte Benson, +he was not going to do it because he loved her. He might not be +prevented from doing it because he loved me; but he did not love her. I +could not say why exactly. But I knew she was not the kind of woman for +him to think of loving, and I would not believe it till I heard it from +himself, and I would hear it from himself at the earliest possible date. +I did not like to be unhappy, and was very impatient to get rid of this, +if it were not true, and to know the worst, at once, if it were. + +"My dear Throcky," I said to my companion, at the breakfast-table, "I +think you'd better go and take dinner with your niece to-day. I've sent +for Mr. Vandermarck to come and dine, and I thought perhaps you'd +rather not be bored; we shall have business to talk about, and business +is such a nuisance when you're not interested in it." + +"Very well, my dear," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with indestructible +good-humor. + +"Or you might have a headache, if you'd rather, and I'll send your +dinner up to you. I'll be sure Susan takes you everything that's nice." + +"Well, then, I think I'll have a headache; I'm afraid I'd rather have it +than one of Mary Ann's poor dinners. (I'd be sure of one to-morrow if +I went.)" + +"Paris things have spoiled you, I'm afraid," I said. "Only see that I +have something nice for Richard, won't you?--How do you think the cook +is going to do?" This was the first sign of interest I had given in the +matter of _ménage_; by which it will be seen I was still a little +selfish, and not very wise. But Throckmorton was a person to cultivate +my selfishness, and there had not been much to develop the wisdom of +common life. + +She promised me a very pretty dinner, no matter at what trouble, and +made me feel quite easy about her wounded feelings. One of the best +features of Throckmorton was, she hadn't any feelings; you might treat +her like a galley-slave, and she would show the least dejection. It was +a temptation to have such a person in the house. + +I had sent a note to Richard which contained the following: + +/# + "DEAR RICHARD: + + "I am sure you will be surprised to know we have returned. + But the fact is, I got very tired of Italy; and we were + disappointed in the apartments we wanted in Berlin, and some + of the people we expected to have with us had to give it up, + and altogether it seemed dull, and we thought it would be + just as pleasant to come home. We were able to get staterooms + that just suited us, and it didn't seem worth while to lose + them by waiting to send word. We had a very comfortable + voyage, and I am glad to find myself at home, though Mrs. + Throckmorton doesn't think the rooms are very nice. I want to + know if you won't come to dinner. We dine at six. Send a line + back by the boy. I want to ask you about some + business matters. + + "Affectionately yours, + + "PAULINE." +#/ + +And I had received for answer: + +/# + "MY DEAR PAULINE: + + "Of course I am astonished to think you are at home. I + enclosed you several letters by the steamer yesterday, none + of them of any very great importance, though, I think. I will + come up at six. + + "Always yours, + + "RICHARD VANDERMARCK. + + "P.S. I am very glad you wanted to come home." +#/ + +I read this letter over a great many times, but it did not enlighten me +at all as to his intentions about marrying Charlotte Benson. It was very +matter-of-fact, but that Richard's letters always were. Evidently he had +thought the same of it himself, as he read it over, and had added the +postscript. But that did not seem very enthusiastic. Altogether I was +not happy, waiting for six o'clock to come. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +A DINNER + + Time and chance are but a tide, + Slighted love is sair to bide. + + +The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the door was +standing open between them, as I walked up and down the parlor, waiting +nervously for Richard to arrive. The fire was bright, and the only light +in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, which we had brought from Italy. +There were flowers on the table, and in two or three vases, and the +curtains were pretty, and there were several large mirrors. Outside, it +was the twilight of a dark autumnal day; almost night already, and the +lamps were lit. It lacked several minutes of six when Richard came. I +felt very much agitated when he entered the room. It was a year and a +half since I had seen him: besides, this piece of news! But he looked +just the same as ever, and I had not the self-possession to note whether +he seemed agitated at meeting me. I do not know exactly what we talked +about for the first few moments, probably I was occupied in trying to +excuse myself for coming home so suddenly, for I found Richard was not +altogether pleased at not having been informed, and thought there must +be something yet to tell. He was not used to feminine caprice, and I +began to feel a good deal ashamed of myself. I had to remind myself, +more than once, that I was not responsible to any one. + +"I just felt like it," was such a very weak explanation to offer to this +grave business-man, for disarranging two years of carefully-laid plans. + +I found I was getting to be a little afraid of Richard: we had been so +long apart, and he had grown so much older. + +"I hope, at least, you are not going to scold me for it," I said at +last, with a little laugh, feeling that was my best way out of it. "I +shall think you are not glad, to see me." + +"I am glad to see you," he said, gravely; "and as to scolding, it's so +long since you've given me an opportunity, I should not know how to +go to work." + +"Do you mean, because I've been away so long, or because I've been so +good?" + +Susan, who had been watching her opportunity, now appeared in the +dining-room door, and said that dinner was on the table. + +Richard asked for Mrs. Throckmorton when we sat down to dinner. I told +him she was dining with her niece. (She had reconsidered the question of +the headache, and had gone to hear more news.) The dinner was very nice, +and very nicely served; but somehow, Richard did not seem to enjoy it +very much, that is, not as I had been in the habit lately of seeing men +enjoy their meals. + +"I am afraid you are getting like Uncle Leonard, and only care about +Wall-street," I said. "I shouldn't wonder if you forgot to order your +dinner half the time, and took the same thing for breakfast every +morning in the year." + +"That's just exactly how it is," he said. "If Sophie did not come down +to my quarters every week or two, and regulate affairs a little, I don't +know where I should be, in the matter of my dinners." + +"How is Sophie?" I said. + +"Very well. I saw her yesterday. I went to put Charley in College for +her." + +"I can't think of Charley as a young man." + +"Yes, Charley is a strapping fellow, within two inches of my height." + +"Impossible! And where is Benny?" + +"At school here in town. His mother will not let him go to +boarding-school. He is a nice boy: I think there's more in him +than Charley." + +"And I hear Kilian is married!" + +"Yes. Kilian is married--the very day you landed, too." + +"Well," I said, with a little dash of temper, "I'm very sorry for you +all. I did not think Kilian was going to be so foolish." + +"He thinks he's very wise, though, all the same," said Richard, with a +smile, which turned into a sigh before he had done speaking. + +"I do dislike her so," I exclaimed, warmly. "There isn't an honest or +straightforward thing about her. She is weak, too; her only strength is +her suppleness and cunning." + +"I know you never liked her," said Richard, gravely; "but I hope you'll +try to think better of her now." + +"I hope I shall never have to see her," I answered, with angry warmth. + +Richard was silent, and I was very much ashamed of myself a moment +after. I had meant him to see how much improved I was, and how well +disciplined. This was a pretty exhibition! I had not spoken so of any +one for a year, at least. I colored with mortification and penitence. +Richard evidently saw it, and felt sorry for me, for he said, +most kindly, + +"I can understand exactly how you feel, Pauline. This marriage is a +great trial to me. I have done all I could to keep Kilian from throwing +himself away, but I might as well have argued with the winds." + +"I don't care how much Kilian throws himself away," I said, impulsively. +"He deserves it for keeping around her all these years. But I do mind +that she is your sister, and that she will be mistress of the house +at R----." + +There was an awful silence then. Heavens! what had I been thinking about +to have said that! I had precipitated the _dénouement_, and I had not +meant to. I did not want to hear it that moment, if he were going to +marry Charlotte Benson, nor did I want to hear it, if he were saving the +old place for me. I felt as if I had given the blow that would bring the +whole structure down, and I waited for the crash in frightened silence. + +In the meantime the business of the table went on. I ate half a chicken +croquette, and Susan placed the salad before Richard, and another plate. +He did not speak till he had put the salad on his plate; then he said, +without looking at me, in a voice a good deal lower than was usual +to him, + +"She is not to be mistress of that house. They will live in town." + +Then I felt cold and chilled to my very heart; it was well that he did +not expect me to speak, for I could not have commanded my voice enough +to have concealed my agitation. I knew very well from that moment that +he was going to marry Charlotte Benson. Something that was said a little +later was a confirmation. + +I had recovered myself enough to talk about ordinary things, and to keep +strictly to them, too. Richard was talking of the great heat of the past +summer. I had said it had been unparalleled in France; had he not found +it very uncomfortable here in town? + +"I have been out of town so much, I can hardly say how it has been +here," he answered. "I was all of August in the country; only coming to +the city twice." + +My heart sank: that was just what they had said; he had been a great +deal at home this summer, and she had been there all the time. + +The dinner was becoming terribly _ennuyant_, and I wished with all my +heart Throckmorton had been contented with just half the courses. +Richard did not seem to enjoy them, and I--I was so wretched I could +scarcely say a word, much less eat a morsel. It had been a great +mistake to invite him to take dinner; it was being too familiar, when he +had put me at such a distance all these years: I wished for Mrs. +Throckmorton with all my heart. Why had I sent her off? Richard was +evidently so constrained, and it was in such bad taste to have asked him +here; it could not help putting thoughts in both our minds, sitting +alone at a table opposite each other, as we should have been sitting +daily if that horrid will had not been found. He had dined with us just +twice before, but that was at dinner-parties, when there had been ever +so many people between us, and when I had not said six words to him +during the whole evening. + +The only excuse I could offer, and that he could understand, would be +that I wanted to talk business to him; I had said in my note that I +wanted to consult him about something, and I must keep that in mind. I +had wanted to ask him about a house I thought of buying, adjoining the +Sisters' Hospital, to enlarge their work; but I was so wicked and +worldly, I felt just then as if I did not care whether they had a house +or not, or whether they did any work. However, I resolved to speak about +it, when we had got away from the table, if we ever did. + +Susan kept bringing dish after dish. + +"Oh, we don't want any of that!" I exclaimed, at last, impatiently; "do +take it away, and tell them to send in the coffee." + +I was resolved upon one thing: Richard should tell me of his engagement +before he went away; it would be dishonorable and unkind if he did not, +and I should make him do it. I was not quite sure that I had +self-control enough not to show how it made me feel, when it came to +hearing it all in so many words. But in very truth, I had not much pride +as regarded him; I felt so sore-hearted and unhappy, I did not care much +whether he knew it or suspected it. + +I could not help remembering how little concealment he had made of his +love for me, even when he knew that all the heart I had was given to +another. I would be very careful not to precipitate the disclosure, +however, while we sat at table; it is so disagreeable to talk to any one +on an agitating subject _vis-à -vis_ across a little dinner-table, with a +bright light overhead, and a servant walking around, able to stop and +study you from any point she pleases. + +Coffee came at last, though even that, Susan was unwilling to look upon +as the legitimate finale, and had her views about liqueur, instructed by +Throckmorton. But I cut it short by getting up and saying, "I'm sure +you'll be glad to go into the parlor; it gets warm so soon in these +little rooms." + +The parlor was very cool and pleasant; a window had been open, and the +air was fresh, and the flowers were delicious, and the lamp was softer +and pleasanter than the gas. I went to break up the coal and make the +fire blaze, and Richard to shut the window down. + +When I had pulled a chair up to the fire and seated myself, he stood +leaning on the mantelpiece, on the other side from me. I felt sure he +meant to go, the minute that he could get away--a committee meeting, no +doubt, or some such nauseous fraud. But he should not go away until he +had told me, that was certain. + +"What is it that you wanted to ask me about, Pauline?" he said, rather +abruptly. + +My heart gave a great thump; how could he have known? Oh, it was the +business that I had spoken of in my stupid note. Yes; and I began to +explain to him what I wanted to do about the hospital. + +He looked infinitely relieved. I believe he had an idea it was something +very different. My explanation could not have added much to his +reverence for my business ability. I was very indefinite, and could not +tell him whether it was hundreds or thousands that I meant. + +He said, with a smile, he thought it must be thousands, as city property +was so very high. He was very kind, however, about the matter, and did +not discourage me at all. He always seemed to approve of my desire to +give away in charity, and, within bounds, always furthered such plans of +doing good. He said he would look into it, and would write me word next +week what his impression was; and then, I think, he meant to go away. + +Then I began talking on every subject I could think of, hoping some of +the roads would lead to Rome. But none of them led there, and I was +in despair. + +"Oh, don't you want to look at some photographs?" I said, at last, +thinking I saw an opening for my wedge. I got the package, and he came +to the table and looked at them, standing up. They were naturally of +much more interest to me than to him, being of places and people with +which I had so lately been familiar. + +But he looked at them very kindly, and asked a good many questions about +them. + +"Look at this," I said, handing him an Antwerp peasant-woman in her +hideous bonnet. "Isn't that ridiculously like Charlotte Benson? I bought +it because it was so singular a resemblance." + +"It is like her," he said, thoughtfully, looking at it long. "The mouth +is a little larger and the eyes further apart. But it is a most striking +likeness. It might almost have been taken for her." + +"How is she, and when have you seen her?" I said, a little choked for +breath. + +"She is very well. I saw her yesterday," he answered, still looking at +the little picture. + +"Was she with Sophie this summer?" + +"Yes, for almost two months." + +"I hope she doesn't keep everybody in order as sharply as she used to?" +I said, with a bitter little laugh. + +"I don't know," he said. "I think, perhaps, she is rather less decided +than she used to be." + +"Oh, you call it decision, do you? Well, I'm glad I know what it is. I +used to think it hadn't such a pretty name as that." + +Richard looked grave; it certainly was not a graceful way to lead up to +congratulations. + +"But then, you always liked her," I said. + +"Yes, I always liked her," he answered, simply. + +"I'm afraid I'm not very amiable," I retorted, "for I never liked her: +no better even than that fraudulent Mary Leighton, clever and sensible +as she always was. There is such a thing as being too clever, and too +sensible, and making yourself an offence to all less admirable people." + +Richard was entirely silent, and, I was sure, was disapproving of me +very much. + +"Do you know what I heard yesterday?" I said, In a daring way. "And I +hope you're going to tell me if it's true, to-night?" + +"What was it that you heard yesterday?" he asked, without much change of +tone. He had laid down the photograph, and had gone back, and was +leaning by the mantelpiece again. + +"Why, I heard that you were going to marry Charlotte Benson. Is it +true?" + +I had pushed away the pile of photographs from me, and had looked up at +him when I began, but my voice and courage rather failed before the end, +and my eyes fell. There was a silence--a silence that seemed to +stifle me. + +"Why do you ask me that question?" he said, at last, in a low voice. "Do +you believe I am, yourself?" + +"No," I cried, springing up, and going over to his side. "No, I don't +believe it. Tell me it isn't true, and promise me you won't ever, ever +marry Charlotte Benson." + +The relief was so unspeakable that I didn't care what I said, and the +joy I felt showed itself in my face and voice. I put out my hand to him +when I said "promise me," but he did not take it, and turned his head +away from me. + +"I shall not marry Charlotte Benson," he said; "but I cannot understand +what difference it makes to you." + +It was now my turn to be silent, and I shrank back a step or two in +great confusion. + +He raised his head, and looked steadily at me for a moment, and then +said: + +"Pauline, you did a great many things, but I don't think you ever +willingly deceived me. Did you?" + +I shook my head without looking lip. + +"Then be careful what you do now, and let the past alone," he said, and +his voice was almost stern. + +I trembled, and turned pale. + +"Women sometimes play with dangerous weapons," he said; "I don't accuse +you of meaning to give pain, but only of forgetting that some +recollections are not to you what they are to me. I never want to +interfere with any one's comfort or enjoyment; I only want to be let +alone. I do very well, and am not unhappy. About marrying, now or ever, +I should have thought you would have known. But let me tell you once for +all: I haven't any thought of it, and shall not ever have. It is not +that I am holding to any foolish hopes. It would be exactly the same if +you were married, or had died. It simply isn't in my nature to feel the +same way a second time. People are made differently, that is all. I'm +very well contented, and you need never let it worry you." + +He was very pale now, and his eyes had an expression I had never seen in +them before. + +"Richard," I said, faintly, "I never _have_ deceived you: believe me now +when I tell you, I am sorry from my heart for all that's past." + +"You told me so before, and I did forgive you. I forgave you fully, and +have never had a thought that wasn't kind." + +"I know it," I said. "But you do not trust me--you don't ever come near +me, or want to see me." + +"You do not know what you are talking of," he answered, turning from me. +"I forgive you anything you may have done at any time to give me pain. I +will do everything I can to serve you, in every way I can; only do not +stir up the past, and let me forget the little of it that I can forget." + +I burst into tears, and put my hands before my face. + +"What is it?" he said, uneasily. "You need not be troubled about me." + +Seeing that I did not stop, he said again, "Tell me: is it that that +troubles you?" + +I shook my head. + +"What is it, then? Something that I do not know about? Pauline, you are +unhappy, and yet you've everything in the world to make you happy. I +often think, there are not many women have as much." + +"The poorest of them are better off than I," I said, without raising my +head. + +"Then you are ungrateful," he said, "for you have youth, and health, and +money, and everybody likes you. You could choose from all the world." + +"No, I couldn't," I exclaimed, like a child; "and everybody doesn't like +me,"--and then I cried again, for I was really in despair, and thought +he meant to put me away, memory and all. + +"Well, if that's your trouble," he said, with a sigh, "I suppose I +cannot help you; but I'm very sorry." + +"Yes, you _can_ help me," I cried imploringly, forgetting all I ought to +have remembered; "if you only would forgive me, really and in earnest, +and be friends again--and let me try--" and I covered my face with +my hands. + +"Pauline," he said, standing by my side, and his voice almost frightened +me, it was so strong with feeling; "is this a piece of sentiment? Do you +mean anything? Or am I to be trifled with again?" + +He took hold of my wrists with both his hands, with such force as to +give me pain, and drew them from my face. + +"Look at me," he said, "and tell me what you mean; and decide +now--forever and forever. For this is the last time that you will have a +chance to say." + +"It's all very well," I said, trying to turn my face away from him. +"It's all very well to talk about loving me yet, and being just the +same; but this isn't the way you used to talk, and I think it's +very hard--" + +"That isn't answering me," he said, holding me closer to him. + +"What shall I say," I whispered, hiding my face upon his arm. "Nothing +will ever satisfy you." + +"Nothing ever _has_ satisfied me," he said, "--before." + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12348 *** diff --git a/12348-h/12348-h.htm b/12348-h/12348-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0374a3f --- /dev/null +++ b/12348-h/12348-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7035 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Richard Vandermarck, by Miriam Coles Harris</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; } + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + blockquote {text-align: justify; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + IMG { + BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; + BORDER-TOP: 0px; + BORDER-LEFT: 0px; + BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px } + .ctr { TEXT-ALIGN: center } + .rgt { float: right; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: -5%; + margin-right: 0%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + .lft { float: left; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 0%; + TEXT-ALIGN: center } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 9pt;} + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12348 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Richard Vandermarck, by Miriam Coles Harris</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>RICHARD VANDERMARCK.</h1> +<h3>A NOVEL.</h3> +<h2>By MRS. SIDNEY S. HARRIS,</h2> +<br> +<h4>AUTHOR OF "RUTLEDGE," "ST. PHILLIPS,"</h4> +<h4>ETC., ETC.</h4> +<h5>1871.</h5> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h2>To S.S.H.</h2> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<br> +<center><a href="#CHAPTER_I.">CHAPTER I. VARICK-STREET</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II.">CHAPTER II. VERY GOOD LUCK</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III.">CHAPTER III. KILIAN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV.">CHAPTER IV. MY COMPANIONS</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V.">CHAPTER V. THE TUTOR</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI.">CHAPTER VI. MATINAL</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII.">CHAPTER VII. THREE WEEKS TOO LATE</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII.">CHAPTER VIII. SUNDAY</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX.">CHAPTER IX. A DANCE</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X.">CHAPTER X. EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO +SEVEN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI.">CHAPTER XI. SOPHIE'S WORK</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII.">CHAPTER XII. PRAEMONITUS, +PRAEMUNITUS</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII.">CHAPTER XIII. THE WORLD GOES ON THE +SAME</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV.">CHAPTER XIV. GUARDED</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV.">CHAPTER XV. I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI.">CHAPTER XVI. AUGUST THIRTIETH</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII.">CHAPTER XVII. BESIDE HIM ONCE +AGAIN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII.">CHAPTER XVIII. A JOURNEY</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX.">CHAPTER XIX. SISTER MADELINE</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX.">CHAPTER XX. THE HOUR OF DAWN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI.">CHAPTER XXI. APRÉS PERDRE, PERD ON +BIEN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII.">CHAPTER XXII. A GREAT DEAL TOO +SOON</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII.">CHAPTER XXIII. A REVERSAL</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV.">CHAPTER XXIV. MY NEW WORLD</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV.">CHAPTER XXV. BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI.">CHAPTER XXVI. A DINNER</a></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>RICHARD VANDERMARCK.</h2> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I."></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h3>VARICK STREET.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>O for one spot of living green,<br> + One little spot where leaves can grow,--<br> +To love unblamed, to walk unseen,<br> + To dream above, to sleep below!<br> +<br> +<i>Holmes</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +There are in this loud stunning tide,<br> + Of human care and crime,<br> +With whom the melodies abide<br> + Of th' everlasting chime;<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> +<br> +And to wise hearts this certain hope is given;<br> +"No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven."<br> +<br> +<i>Keble.</i></blockquote> +<br> +<p>I never knew exactly how the invitation came; I felt very much +honored by it, though I think now, very likely the honor was felt +to be upon the other side. I was exceedingly young, and exceedingly +ignorant, not seventeen, and an orphan, living in the house of an +uncle, an unmarried man of nearly seventy, wholly absorbed in +business, and not much more interested in me than in his clerks and +servants.</p> +<p>I had come under his protection, a little girl of two years old, +and had been in his house ever since. I had had as good care as a +very ordinary class of servants could give me, and was supplied +with some one to teach me, and had as much money to spend as was +good for me--perhaps more; and I do not feel inclined to say my +uncle did not do his duty, for I do not think he knew of anything +further to do; and strictly speaking, I had no claim on him, for I +was only a great-niece, and there were those living who were more +nearly related to me, and who were abundantly able to provide for +me, if they had been willing to do it.</p> +<p>When I came in to the household, its wants were attended to by a +cook and a man-servant, who had lived many years with my uncle. A +third person was employed as my nurse, and a great deal of +quarrelling was the result of her coming. I quite wonder my uncle +did not put me away at board somewhere, rather than be disturbed. +But in truth, I do not believe that the quarrelling disturbed him +much, or that he paid much attention to the matter, and so the +matter settled itself. My nurses were changed very often, by will +of the cook and old Peter, and I never was happy enough to have one +who had very high principle, or was more than ordinarily +good-tempered.</p> +<p>I don't know who selected my teachers; probably they applied for +employment and were received. They were very business-like and +unsuggestive people. I was of no more interest to them than a bale +of goods, I believe. Indeed, I seemed likely to go a bale of goods +through life; everything that was done for me was done for money, +and with a view to the benefit of the person serving me. I was not +sent to school, which was a very great pity; it was owing to the +fact, no doubt, that somebody applied to my uncle to teach me at +home, and so the system was inaugurated, and never received a +second thought, and I went on being taught at home till I was +seventeen.</p> +<p>The "home" was as follows; a large dark house on the unsunny +side of a dull street; furniture that had not been changed for +forty years, walls that were seldom repainted, windows that were +rarely opened. The neighborhood had been for many years +unfashionable and undesirable, and, by the time I was grown up, +nobody would have lived in it, who had cared to have a cheerful +home, I might almost have said, a respectable one, I fancy ours was +nearly the only house in the block occupied by its owner; the +others, equally large, were rented for tenement houses, or +boarding-houses, and perhaps for many things worse. It was probably +owing to this fact, that my uncle gave orders, once for all, I was +never to go into the street alone; and I believe, in my whole life, +I had never taken a walk unaccompanied by a servant, or one of my +teachers.</p> +<p>A very dull life indeed. I wonder how I endured it. The rooms +were so dismal, the windows so uneventful. If it had not been for a +room in the garret where I had my playthings, and where the sun +came all day long, I am sure I should have been a much worse and +more unhappy child. As I grew older, I tried to adorn my room (my +own respectable sleeping room, I mean), with engravings, and the +little ornaments that I could buy. But it was a hopeless attempt. +The walls were so high and so dingy, the little pictures were lost +upon them; and the vases on the great black mantel-shelf looked so +insignificant, I felt ashamed of them, and owned the unfitness of +decorating such a room. No flowers would grow in those cold north +windows--no bird would sing in sight of such a street. I gave it up +with a sigh; and there was one good instinct lost.</p> +<p>When I was about eleven, I fell foul of some good books. If it +had not been for them, I truly do not see how I could have known +that I was not to lie or steal, and that God was to be worshipped. +Certainly, I had had hands slapped many times for taking things I +had been forbidden to touch, and had had many a battle in +consequence of "telling stories," with the servants of the house, +but I had always recognized the personal spite of the punishments, +and they had not carried with them any moral lesson.</p> +<p>I had sometimes gone to church; but the sermons in large city +churches are not generally elementary, and I did not understand +those that I heard at all. Occasionally I went with the nurse to +Vespers, and that I thought delightful. I was enraptured with the +pictures, the music, the rich clothes of the priests; if it had not +been for the bad odor of the neighboring worshippers, I think I +might have rushed into the bosom of the Church of Rome. But that +offended sense restrained me. And so, as I said, if I had not +obtained access to some books of holy and pure influence, and been +starved by the dullness of the life around me into taking hold of +them with eagerness, I should have led the life of a little heathen +in the midst of light. Of course the books were not written for my +especial case, nor were they books for children,--and so, much was +supposed, and not expressed, and consequently the truth they +imparted to me was but fragmentary. But it was truth, and the +influence was holy.</p> +<p>I was driven to books; I do not believe I had any more desire +than most vivid, palpitating, fluttering young things of my sex, to +pore over a dull black and white page; but this black and white +gate opened to me golden fields of happiness, while I was perishing +of hunger in a life of dreary fact.</p> +<p>When I was about sixteen, however, an outside human influence, +not written in black and white, came into the current of my +existence. About that time, my uncle took into his firm, as junior +partner, a young man who had long been a clerk in the house. After +his promotion he often came home with my uncle to dinner. I think +this was done, perhaps, with a view of civil treatment, on the +first occasion; but afterward, it was continued because my uncle +could not bear to leave business when he left the office, and +because he could talk on the matters which were dearer to him than +his dinner, with this junior, in whom he took unqualified delight. +He often wrote letters in the evening, which my uncle dictated, and +he sometimes did not go away till eleven o'clock at night. The +first time he came, I did not notice him very much. It was not +unusual for Uncle Leonard to be accompanied by some gentleman who +talked business with him during dinner; and being naturally shy, +and moreover, on this occasion, in the middle of a very interesting +book, at once timid and indifferent, I slipped away from the table +the moment that I could. But upon the third or fourth occasion of +his being there, I became interested, finding often a pair of +handsome eyes fixed on me, and being occasionally addressed and +made a partner in the conversation. Uncle Leonard very rarely +talked to me, and I think found me in the way when Richard +Vandermarck made the talk extend to me.</p> +<p>But this was the beginning of a very much improved era for me. I +lost my shyness, and my fear of Uncle Leonard, and indeed, I think, +my frantic thirst for books, and became quite a young lady. We were +great friends; he brought me books, he told me about other people, +he opened a thousand doors of interest and pleasure to me. I never +can enumerate all I owed to him. My dull life was changed, and the +house owed him gratitude.</p> +<p>We began to have the gas lighted in the parlor, and even Uncle +Leonard came in there sometimes and sat after dinner, before he +went up into that dreary library above. I think he rather enjoyed +hearing us talk gayly across his sombre board; he certainly became +softer and more human toward me after Richard came to be so +constantly a guest. He gave me more money to spend, (that was +always the expression of his feelings, his language, so to speak;) +he made various inquiries and improvements about the house. The +dinners themselves were improved, for a horrible monotony had crept +into the soups and sauces of forty years; and Uncle Leonard was no +epicure; he seemed to have no more stomach than he had heart; brain +and pocket made the man.</p> +<p>I think unconsciously he was much influenced by Richard, whose +business talent had charmed him, and to whom he looked for much +that he knew he must soon lose. He was glad to make the house seem +pleasant to him, and he was much gratified by his frequent coming. +And Richard was peculiarly a man to like and to lean upon. Not in +any way brilliant, and with no literary tastes, he was well +educated enough, and very well informed; a thorough business man. I +think he was ordinarily reserved, but our intercourse had been so +unconventional, that I did not think him so at all. He was rather +good-looking, tall and square-shouldered, with light-brown hair and +fine dark-blue eyes; he had a great many points of advantage.</p> +<p>One day, long after he had become almost a member of the +household, he told me he wanted me to know his sister, and that she +would come the next day to see me, if I would like it. I did like +it, and waited for her with impatience. He had told me a great deal +about her, and I was full of curiosity to see her. She was a little +older than Richard, and the only sister; very pretty, and quite a +person of consequence in society. She had made an unfortunate +marriage, though of that Richard said very little to me; but with +better luck than attends most unfortunately-married, women, she was +released by her husband's early death, and was free to be happy +again, with some pretty boys, a moderate fortune, and two brothers +to look after her investments, and do her little errands for her. +She considered herself fortunate; and was a widow of rare +discretion, in that she was wedded to her unexpected independence, +and never intended to be wedded to anything or anybody else. She +was naturally cool and calculating, and was in no danger of being +betrayed by her feelings into any other course of life than the one +she had marked out as most expedient. If she was worldly, she was +also useful, intelligent, and popular, and a paragon in her +brother's partial eyes.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II."></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<h3>VERY GOOD LUCK.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Mieux vaut une once de fortune qu'une livre de +sagesse.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>At last (on the day on which Richard had advertised me she was +coming,) the door was opened, and some one was taken to the parlor. +Then old Peter rang a bell which stood on the hall table, and +called out to Ann Coddle (once my nurse, now the seamstress, +chambermaid, and general lightener of his toils), to tell Miss +Pauline a lady wanted her.</p> +<p>This bell was to save his old bones; he never went up-stairs, +and he resented every visitor as an innovation. They were so few, +his temper was not much tried. I was leaning over the stairs when +the bell rang, and did not need a second message. Ann, who +continued to feel a care for my personal appearance, followed me to +the landing-place and gave my sash a last pull.</p> +<p>When I found myself in the parlor I began to experience a little +embarrassment. Mrs. Hollenbeck was so pretty and her dress was so +dainty, the dingy, stiff, old parlor filled me with dismay. +Fortunately, I did not think much of myself or my own dress. But +after a little, she put me at ease, that is, drew me out and made +me feel like talking to her.</p> +<p>I admired her very much, but I did not feel any of the affection +and quick cordiality with which Richard had inspired me. I could +tell that she was curious about me, and was watching me +attentively, and though she was so charming that I felt flattered +by her interest, I was not pleased when I remembered my interview +with her.</p> +<p>"You are not at all like your brother," I said, glancing in her +face with frankness.</p> +<p>"No?" she said smilingly, and looking attentively at me with an +expression which I did not understand.</p> +<p>And then she drew me on to speak of all his features, which I +did with the utmost candor, showing great knowledge of the +subject.</p> +<p>"And you," she said, "you do not look at all as I supposed. You +are not nearly so young--Richard told me you were quite a child. I +was not prepared for this grace; this young ladyhood--'cette taille +de palmier,'" she added, with a little sweep of the hand.</p> +<p>Somehow I was not pleased to feel that Richard had talked of me +to her, though I liked it that he had talked of her to me. No doubt +she saw it, for I was lamentably transparent. "Do you lead a quiet +life, or have you many friends?" she said, as if she did not know +exactly the kind of life I led, and as if she had not come for the +express purpose of helping me out of it, at the instance of her +kindly brother. Then, of course, I told her all about my dull days, +and she pitied me, and said lightly it must not be, and I must see +more of the world, and she, for her part, must know me better, +etc., etc. And then she went away.</p> +<p>In a few days, I went with Ann Coddle, in a carriage, to return +the visit. The house was small, but in a beautiful, bright street, +and the one window near the door was full of ferns and ivies. I did +not get in, which was a disappointment to me, particularly as I had +no printed card, and realized keenly all the ignominy of leaving +one in writing. This was in April, and I saw no more of my new +friend. Richard was away, on some business of the firm, and the +days were very dull indeed.</p> +<p>In May he came back, and resumed the dinners, and the evenings +in the parlor, though not quite with the frequency of the past +winter,--and I think there was the least shade of constraint in his +manner. It was on one of these May days that he came and took me to +the Park. It was a great occasion; I had never been so happy before +in my life. I was in great doubt about taking Ann Coddle; never +having been out of the house without a person of that description +in attendance before. But Ann got a suspicion of my doubt and +settled it, to go--of course. I think Richard was rather chagrined +when she followed us out to get into the carriage; she was so +dried-up and shrewish-looking, and wore such an Irish bonnet. But +she preserved a discreet silence, and looked steadfastly out of the +carriage window, so we soon forgot that she was there, though she +was directly opposite to us. It was Saturday; the day was fresh and +lovely, and there were crowds of people driving in the Park. Once +we left the carriage with Ann Coddle in it, and went to hear the +music. It was while we were sitting for a few moments under the +vines to listen to it, and watch the gay groups of people around +us, that a carriage passed within a dozen feet, and a lady leaned +out and bowed with smiles.</p> +<p>"Why, see--it is your sister!" I exclaimed, with the vivacity of +a person of a very limited acquaintance.</p> +<p>"Ah," he said, and raised his hat carelessly. But I saw he was +not pleased; he pushed the end of his moustache into his mouth, and +bit it, as he always did when out of humor, and very soon proposed +we should go back and find the carriage. It was not long, however, +before he recovered from this annoyance, as he had from the +unexpected pleasure of Ann's company; and, I am sure, was as sorry +as I when it was time to go home to dinner.</p> +<p>He stayed and dined with us; another gentleman had come home +with my uncle, who talked well and amused us very much. I was +excited and in high spirits; altogether, it was a very happy +day.</p> +<p>It was more than a week after this, that the invitation came +which turned the world upside down at once, and made me most +extravagantly happy. It was from Mrs. Hollenbeck, and I was asked +to spend part of June and all of July and August, with them at +R----.</p> +<p>At R---- was their old family home, a place of very little +pretension, but to which they were much attached. When the father +died, five years before, the two sons had bought the place, or +rather had taken it as their share, turning over the more +productive property to their sister.</p> +<p>They had been very reluctant to close the house, and it was +decided that Sophie should go there every summer, and take her +servants from the city; the expenses of the place being borne by +the two young men. They were very well able to do it, as both were +successful in business, and keeping open the old home, with no +diminution of the hospitality of their father's time, was perhaps +the greatest pleasure that they had. It was an arrangement which +suited Sophie admirably. It gave her the opportunity to entertain +pleasantly and informally; it was a capital summer-home for her two +boys; it was in the centre of an agreeable neighborhood; and above +all, it gave her yearly-exhausted purse time to recuperate and +swell again before the winter's drain. Of course she loved the +place, too, but not with the simple affection that her two brothers +did. The young men invited their friends there without restriction, +as was to be supposed; and Sophie was a gay and agreeable hostess. +No one could have made the house pleasanter than she did; and she +left nothing undone to gratify her brothers' tastes and wishes, +like a wise and prudent woman as she was.</p> +<p>I did not know all this then, or my invitation might not have +overwhelmed me with such gratitude to her. I reproached myself for +not having loved her the first time I saw her.</p> +<p>Three months! Three happy months in the country! I could hardly +believe it possible such a thing had happened to me. I took the +note to my uncle without much fear of his opposition, for he rarely +opposed anything that I had the courage to ask him, except going in +the street alone. (I believe my mother had made a runaway match, +and I think he had faith in inherited traits; his one resolution +regarding me must have been, not to give me a chance.) He read the +note carefully, and then looked me over with more interest than +usual, and told me I might go. Afterward he gave me a roll of +bills, and told me to come to him for more money, if I needed +it.</p> +<p>I was much excited about my clothes. I could not think that +anything was good enough to go to R----; and I am afraid I spent a +good deal of my uncle's money. Ann Coddle and the cook thought that +my dresses were magnificent, and old Peter groaned over the coming +of the packages. I had indeed a wardrobe fit for a young princess, +and in very good taste besides, because I was born with that. An +inheritance, no doubt. And my uncle never complained at all about +the bills. I seemed to have become, in some way, a person of +considerable importance in the house. Ann Coddle no more fretted at +me, but waited on me with alacrity. The cook ceased to bully me, +and on the contrary, flattered me outrageously. I remembered the +long years of bullying, and put no faith in her assurances. I did +not know exactly why this change had happened, but supposed it +might be the result of having become a young lady, and being +invited to pay visits.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III."></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<h3>KILIAN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>You are well made--have common sense,<br> +And do not want for impudence.<br> + +<i>Faust</i>.<br> +<br> + <i>Tanto buen die val niente.<br> +<br> + Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui +l'admire</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>The packages finally ceased coming and the stiff old bell from +being pulled; but only half an hour before the carriage drove to +the door that was to take me to the boat. Ann Coddle was flying up +and down the stairs, and calling messages over to Peter in a shrill +voice. She was not designed by nature for a lady's maid, and was a +very disagreeable person to have about one's room. She made me even +more nervous than I should otherwise have been. I had never packed +a trunk before, or had one packed, and might have thought it a very +simple piece of business if Ann had not made such a mountain of it; +packing every tray half a dozen times over, and going down-stairs +three times about every article that was to come up from the +laundry.</p> +<p>Happily she was not to go with me any farther than the boat. +Richard was away again on business--had been gone, indeed, since +the day after we had driven in the Park: so I was to be put on +board the boat, and left in charge of Kilian, his younger brother, +who had called at my uncle's office, and made the arrangement with +him. I had never seen Kilian, and the meeting filled me with +apprehension; my uncle, however, sent up one of his clerks in the +carriage to take me to the boat, and put me in charge of this young +gentleman. This considerate action on the part of my uncle seemed +to fill up the measure of my surprises.</p> +<p>When we reached the boat, the clerk, a respectful youth, +conducted me to the upper deck, and then left me with Ann, while he +went down about the baggage.</p> +<p>With all our precautions, we were rather late, for the last bell +was ringing; Ann was in a fever of impatience, and I was quite +uncertain what to do, the clerk not having returned, and Mr. Kilian +Vandermarck not having yet appeared. Ann was so disagreeable, and +so disturbing to all thinking, that I had more than once to tell +her to be quiet. Matters seemed to have reached a crisis. The man +at the gangway was shouting "all aboard;" the whistle was blowing; +the bell was ringing; Ann was whimpering; when a belated-looking +young man with a book and paper under his arm came up the stairs +hurriedly and looked around with anxiety. As soon as his eye fell +on us, he looked relieved, and walked directly up to me, and called +me by name, interrogatively.</p> +<p>"O yes," I said eagerly, "but do get this woman off the boat or +we'll have to take her with us." "Oh, no danger," he said, "plenty +of time," and he took her toward the stairs, at the head of which +she was met by the clerk, who touched his hat to me, handed the +checks to Mr. Vandermarck, then hurried off with Ann. Mr. +Vandermarck returned to me, but I was so engrossed looking over the +side of the boat and watching for Ann and the clerk, that I took no +notice of him.</p> +<p>At last I saw Ann scramble on the wharf, just before the plank +was drawn in; with a sigh of relief I turned away.</p> +<p>"I want to apologize for being so late," he said.</p> +<p>"Why, it is not any matter," I answered, "only I had not the +least idea what to do."</p> +<p>"You are not used to travelling alone, then, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"Oh no," nor to travelling any way, for the matter of that, I +added to myself; but not aloud, for I had a great fear that it +should be known how very limited my experience was.</p> +<p>"You must let me take your shawl and bag, and we will go and get +a comfortable seat," he said in a few moments. We went forward and +found comfortable chairs under an awning, and where there was a +fine breeze. It was a warm afternoon, and the change from the +heated and glaring wharf was delightful. Mr. Vandermarck threw +himself back in his chair with an expression of relief, and took +off his straw hat.</p> +<p>"If you had been in Wall-street since ten o'clock this morning +you would be prepared to enjoy this sail," he said.</p> +<p>"Is Wall-street so very much more disagreeable than other +places? I think my uncle regrets every moment that he spends away +from it."</p> +<p>"Ah, yes. Mr. Greer may; he has a good deal to make him like it; +if I made as much money as he does every day there, I think it's +possible I might like it too. But it is a different matter with a +poor devil like me: if I get off without being cheated out of all +I've got, it is as much as I can ask."</p> +<p>"Well, perhaps when he was your age, Uncle Leonard did not ask +more than that."</p> +<p>"Not he; he began, long before he was as old as I am, to do what +I can never learn to do, Miss d'Esirée--make money with one +hand and save it with the other. Now, I'm ashamed to say, a great +deal of money comes into my pockets, but it never stays there long +enough to give me the feeling that I'm a rich man. One gets into a +way of living that's destruction to all chances of a fortune."</p> +<p>"But what's the good of a fortune if you don't enjoy it?" I +said, thinking of the dreary house in Varick-street.</p> +<p>"No good," he said. "It isn't in my nature to be satisfied with +the knowledge that I've got enough to make me happy locked up +somewhere in a safe: I must get it out, and strew it around in +sight in the shape of horses, pictures, nice rooms, and good things +to eat, before I can make up my mind that the money is good for +anything. Now as to Richard, he is just the other way: old head on +young shoulders, old pockets in young breeches (only there ar'nt +any holes in them). He's a model of prudence, is my brother +Richard. <i>Qui garde son diner, il a mieux à souper</i>. +He'll be a rich man one of these fine days. I look to him to keep +me out of jail. You know Richard very well, I believe?" he said, +turning a sudden look on me, which would have been very +disconcerting to an older person, or one more acquainted with the +world.</p> +<p>"O, very well indeed," I said with great simplicity. "You know +he is such a favorite with my uncle, and he is a great deal at the +house."</p> +<p>"Well he may be a favorite, for he is built exactly on his +model; at seventy, if I am not hung for debt before I reach it, I +shall look to see him just a second Mr. Leonard Greer."</p> +<p>I made a gesture of dissent. "I don't think he is in the least +like Uncle Leonard, and I don't think he cares at all for +money."</p> +<p>"O, Miss Pauline, don't you believe him if he says he doesn't. +I'm his younger brother, whom he has lectured and been hard on for +these twenty-seven years, and I know more about it than anybody +else."</p> +<p>"Why, is Mr. Richard Vandermarck twenty-seven years old?" I said +with much surprise.</p> +<p>"Twenty-nine his next birthday, and I am twenty-seven. Why, did +he pass himself off for younger? That's an excellent thing against +him."</p> +<p>"No; he did not pass himself off for anything in the matter of +age. It was only my idea about him. I thought he was not more than +twenty-five, perhaps even younger than that. But then I had nobody +but Uncle Leonard to compare him with, and it isn't strange that I +didn't get quite right."</p> +<p>"It <i>is</i> something of a step from Mr. Greer to Richard, I +must say. Mr. Greer seems so much the oldest man in the world, and +Richard--well, Richard isn't that, but he is a good deal older than +he ought to be. But do you tell me, Miss Pauline, you havn't any +younger fellows than Richard on your cards? Do they keep you as +quiet as all that in Varick-street?"</p> +<p>I knew by intuition this was impertinence, and no doubt I looked +annoyed, and Mr. Vandermarck hastened to obliterate the impression +by a very rapid movement upon the scenery, the beauties of the +river, and many things as novel.</p> +<p>The three hours of our sail passed away pleasantly. Mr. +Vandermarck did not move from his seat; did not even read his +paper, though I gave him an opportunity by turning over the leaves +of my "Littel" on the occurrence of every pause.</p> +<p>I felt that I knew him quite well before the journey was over, +and I liked him exceedingly, almost as well as Richard. He was +rather handsomer than Richard, not so tall, but more vivacious and +more amusing, much more so. I began to think Richard rather dull +when I contrasted him with his brother.</p> +<p>When we reached the wharf, Mr. Vandermarck, after disposing of +the baggage, gave his arm to me, and took me to an open wagon which +was waiting for us. He put me in the seat beside him, and took the +reins with a look of pleasure.</p> +<p>"These are Tom and Jerry, Miss Pauline," he said, "about the +pleasantest members of the family; at least they contribute more to +my pleasure than any other members of it. I squandered about half +my income on them a year or two ago, and have not repented yet; +though, indeed, repentance isn't in my way. I shall hope for the +happiness of giving you many drives with them, if I am +permitted."</p> +<p>"Nothing could make me happier, I am sure."</p> +<p>"Richard hasn't any horses, though he can afford it much better +than I can. He does his driving, when he is here, with the +carriage-horses that we keep for Sophie--a dull old pair of brutes. +He disapproves very much of Tom and Jerry; but you see it would +never do to have two such wise heads in one family."</p> +<p>"It would destroy the balance of power in the neighborhood."</p> +<p>"Decidedly; as it is, we are a first-class power, owing to +Sophie's cleverness and Richard's prudence; my prodigality is just +needed to keep us from overrunning the county and proclaiming an +empire at the next town meeting. How do you like Sophie, Miss +d'Estrée? I know you haven't seen much of her--but what you +have? Isn't she clever, and isn't she a pretty woman to be nearly +thirty-five?"</p> +<p>I was feeling very grateful for my invitation, and so I said a +great deal of my admiration for his sister.</p> +<p>"Everybody likes her," he said, complacently. "I don't know a +more popular person anywhere. She is the life of the neighborhood; +people come to her for everything, if they want to get a new +door-mat for the school-house, or if they want a new man nominated +for the legislature. I think she's awfully bored, sometimes, but +she keeps it to herself. But though the summer is her rest, she +always does enough to tire out anybody else. Now, for instance, she +is going to have three young ladies with her for the next two +months (besides yourself, Miss d'Estrée), whom she will have +to be amusing all the time, and some friends of mine who will turn +the house inside out. But Sophie never grumbles."</p> +<p>"Tell me about them all," I said, consuming with a fever of +curiosity.</p> +<p>"O, I forgot you did not know them. Shall I begin with the young +ladies?--(Sam, there's a stone in Jerry's off fore-foot; get down +and look about it--Steady!--there, I knew it)--Excuse me, Miss +d'Estrée. Well,--the young ladies. There's one of our +cousins, a grand, handsome, sombre, estimable girl, whom nobody +ever flirts with, but whom somebody will marry. That's Henrietta +Palmer. Then there is Charlotte Benson--not pretty, but stylish and +so clever. She carries too many guns for most men; she is a capital +girl in her way. Then there is Mary Leighton; she is small, blonde, +lovely. I do not believe in her particularly, but we are great +friends, and flirt a little, I am told. I quite wonder how you will +like each other. I hope you will tell me your impressions. No doubt +she will be rather your companion, for Henrietta and Charlotte +Benson are desperately intimate, and have a room together. They are +quite romantic and very superior. Pretty Miss Leighton isn't in +their line exactly, and is rather left to her own reflections, I +should think. But she makes up for it when the gentlemen appear; +she isn't left with any time upon her hands, you may be sure. I +don't know what it is about her; she never said a bright thing in +her life, and a great, great many silly ones; but everybody wants +to talk to her, and her silly words are precious to the man to whom +she says them. Did you ever meet anybody like her?"</p> +<p>"I? oh no. I never met anybody," I said, half-bitterly, +beginning to be afraid of the people whom I so soon should meet; +and then I began to talk about the road, and to inquire how far we +had yet to drive, and to ask to have a shawl about my shoulders. It +was not yet seven o'clock, but the country air was fresh and cool, +and the rapid driving made it cooler.</p> +<p>"We are almost there; and I hope, Miss d'Estrée, that you +won't feel as if you were going among strangers. You will not feel +so long, at any rate. It is too bad Richard isn't here; you know +him so much better than the rest of us. But before he comes back, I +am sure you will feel as much at home as he. But here's the +gate."</p> +<p>There was a drive of perhaps an eighth of a mile from the gate +to the house: the trees and hedge were thick, so that one saw +little of the house from the road. The grounds were well kept; +there was a nice lawn, in front of the house, and some very fine +old trees. The house was low and irregular, but quite picturesque. +It fronted the road; the rear looked toward the river, about +quarter of a mile distant, and of which the view was lovely.</p> +<p>There was a piazza in front, on which four ladies stood; one of +them came forward, and came down the steps, and met me as I got out +of the carriage. That, of course, was Mrs. Hollenbeck, She welcomed +me very cordially, and led me up the steps of the piazza, where the +young ladies stood. Terrible young ladies! I shook with fear of +them. I felt as if I did not know anything, as if I did not look +well, as if my clothes were hideous. I should not have been afraid +of young or old men, nor of old women; but they were just my age, +just my class, just my equals, or ought to have been, if I had had +any other fate than Uncle Leonard and Varick-street. How they would +criticize me! How soon they would find out I had never been +anywhere before! I wished for Richard then with all my heart. +Kilian had already deserted me, and was talking to Miss Leighton, +who had come half-way down the steps to meet him, and who only gave +me a glance and a very pretty smile and nod, when Mrs. Hollenbeck +presented me to them. Miss Benson and Miss Palmer each gave me a +hand, and looked me over horribly; and the tones of their voices, +when they spoke to me, were so constrained and cold, and so +different from the tones in which they addressed each other. I +hated them.</p> +<p>After a few moments of wretchedness, Sophie proposed to take me +to my room. We went up the stairs, which were steep and +old-fashioned, with a landing-place almost like a little room. My +room was in a wing of the house, over the dining-room, and the +windows looked out on the river. It was not large, but was very +pretty. The windows were curtained, and the bed was dainty, and the +little mantel was draped, and the ornaments and pictures were +quaint and delightful to my taste.</p> +<p>Sophie laid the shawls she had been carrying up for me upon the +bed, and said she hoped I would find everything I needed, and would +try to feel entirely at home, and not hesitate to ask for anything +that would make me comfortable.</p> +<p>Nothing could be kinder, but my affection and gratitude were +fast dying out, and I was quite sure of one thing, namely, that I +never should love Sophie if she spent her life in inviting me to +pay her visits. She told me that tea would be ready in half an +hour, and then left me. I sat down on the bed when she was gone, +and wished myself back in Varick-street; and then cried, to think +that I should be homesick for such a dreary home. But the appetites +and affections common to humanity had not been left out of my +heart, though I had been beggared all my life in regard to most of +them. I could have loved a mother so--a sister--I could have had +such happy feelings for a place that I could have felt was home. +What matter, if I could not even remember the smile on my mother's +lips; what matter, if no brother or sister had ever been born to +me; if no house had ever been my rightful home? I was hungry for +them all the same. And these first glimpses of the happy lives of +others seemed to disaffect me more than ever with my own.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV."></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<h3>MY COMPANIONS.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>"Vous êtes belle: ainsi donc la moitié<br> + Du genre humain sera votre ennemie."<br> + +<i>Voltaire</i>.<br> +<br> + "Oh, +I think the cause<br> + Of much was, they forgot no crowd<br> + Makes up for parents in their shroud."<br> + <i> +R. Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The servant came to call me down to tea while I was still +sitting with my face in my hands upon the bed. I started up, lit +the candles on the dressing-table, arranged my hair, washed the +tears off my face, and hurried down the stairs. They were waiting +for me in the parlor, and no doubt were quite impatient, as they +had already waited for the arrival of the evening train, and it was +nearly eight o'clock. The evening train had brought Mr. Eugene +Whitney, of whom I can only say, that he was a very insignificant +young man indeed. We all moved into the dining-room; the others +took the seats they were accustomed to. Mr. Whitney and I, being +the only new-comers, were advised which seats belonged to us by a +trim young maid-servant, and I, for one, was very glad to get into +mine. Mr. Whitney was my neighbor on one hand, the youngest of the +Hollenbeck boys on the other. These were our seats:</p> +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Kilian,</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Miss Leighton,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Miss Henrietta Palmer,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Miss Benson,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Mr. Eugene Whitney,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Tutor,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Myself,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Boy,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Boy,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Mrs. Hollenbeck.</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +</table> +</blockquote> +<p>The seat opposite me was not filled when we sat down.</p> +<p>"Where is Mr. Langenau, Charley?" said his mother.</p> +<p>"I'm sure I don't know, mamma," said Charley, applying himself +to marmalade.</p> +<p>"Charley doesn't see much of his tutor out of hours, I think," +said Miss Benson.</p> +<p>"A good deal too much of him in 'em," murmured Charley, between +a spoonful of marmalade and a drink of milk.</p> +<p>"Benny's the boy that loves his book," said Kilian; "he's the +joy of his tutor's heart, I know," at which there was a general +laugh, and Benny, the younger, looked up with a merry smile.</p> +<p>The Hollenbeck boys were not fond of study. They were healthy +and pretty; quite the reverse of intellectual; very fair and rosy, +without much resemblance to their mother or her brothers. It was +evident the acquisition of knowledge was far from being the +principal pursuit of their lives, and the tutor was looked upon as +the natural enemy of Charley, at the least.</p> +<p>"I don't see what you ever got him for, mamma," said Charley. +"I'd study just as much without him."</p> +<p>"And that wouldn't be pledging yourself to very much, would it, +Charley dear?"</p> +<p>"Wish he was back in Germany with his ugly books," cried +Charley.</p> +<p>But--hush!--there was a sudden lull, as the tutor entered and +took his place by Charley. He was a well-made man, evidently about +thirty. He was so decidedly a gentleman, in manners and appearance, +that even these spoiled boys treated him respectfully, and the +young ladies and gentlemen at the table were more stiff than +offensive in their manner. But he was so evidently not one of +them!</p> +<p>It is very disagreeable to be among people who know each other +very well, even if they try to know you very well and admit you to +their friendship. But I had no assurance that any one was trying to +do this for <i>me</i>, and I am afraid I showed very little +inclination to be admitted to their friendship. I could not talk, +and I did not want to be talked to. I was even afraid of the little +boys, and thought all the time that Charley was watching me and +making signs about me to his brother, when in reality he was only +telegraphing about the marmalade.</p> +<p>In the meantime, without any attention to my feelings, the +business of the tea-table proceeded. Mrs. Hollenbeck poured out +tea, and kept the little boys under a moderate control. Kilian cut +up some birds before him, and tried to persuade the young ladies to +eat some, but nobody had appetite enough but Mr. Whitney and +himself. Charlotte Benson, who was clever and efficient and +exceedingly at home, cut up a cake that was before her, and gave +the boys some strawberries, and offered some to me. Miss Palmer +simply looked very handsome, and eat a biscuit or two, and tried to +talk to Mr. Whitney, who seemed to have a good appetite and very +little conversation. Miss Leighton gave herself up to attentions to +Kilian; she was saying silly little things to him in a little low +tone all the time, and offering him different articles before her, +and advising him what he ought to eat; all of which seemed most +interesting and important in dumb-show till you heard what it was +all about, and then you felt ashamed of them. At times, I think, +Kilian felt somewhat ashamed too, and tried to talk a little to the +others; but most of the time he seemed to like it very well, and +did not ask anything better than the excellent woodcock on his +plate, and the pretty young woman by his side.</p> +<p>"By the way," said Sophie, when the meal was nearly over, "I had +a letter from Richard to-day."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Kilian, with a momentary release from his admirer. +"And when is he coming home?"</p> +<p>I looked up with quick interest, and met Mrs. Hollenbeck's eyes, +which seemed to be always on me. Then I turned mine down the table +uncomfortably, and found Charlotte Benson looking at me too. I did +not know what I had done to be looked at, but wished they would +look at themselves and let me take my tea (or leave it alone) in +peace.</p> +<p>"Not for two weeks yet," said his sister; "not for two whole +weeks."</p> +<p>"How sorry I am," said Charlotte Benson.</p> +<p>"I think we are all sorry," said Henrietta the tranquil.</p> +<p>"Miss d'Estrée confided to me that she'd be glad to see +him," said Kilian, cutting up another woodcock and looking at his +plate.</p> +<p>"Indeed I shall," I said, with, a little sigh, not thinking so +much about them as feeling most earnestly what a difference his +coming would make, and how sure I should be of having at least one +friend when he got here.</p> +<p>"He seems to be having a delightful time," said his sister.</p> +<p>"I am glad to hear that," I said, interested. "Generally he +finds it such a bore. He doesn't seem to like to travel." I was +rather startled at the sound of my own voice and the attention of +my audience; but I had been betrayed into speaking, by my interest +in the subject, and my surprise at hearing he was having such a +pleasant time.</p> +<p>"Ah!" she said, "don't you think he does? At any rate, he seems +to be enjoying this journey, and to be in no hurry to come back. I +looked for him last week."</p> +<p>Warned by my last experience, I said nothing in answer; and +after a moment Kilian said:</p> +<p>"Well, if Richard's having a good time, you may be sure he's +made some favorable negotiation, and comes home with good news for +the firm. That's his idea of a good time, you know."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Sophie, gently, "that's his brother's idea of his +idea. It isn't mine."</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson seemed a little nettled at this, and +exclaimed,</p> +<p>"Mrs. Hollenbeck! you are making us all unhappy. You are leading +us to suspect that the stern man of business is unbending. What's +the influence at work? What makes this journey different from other +journeys? Where does he tarry, oh, where?"</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" said Sophie, with a little laugh. "You cannot say I +have implied anything of the sort. Cannot Richard enjoy a journey +without your censure or suspicion? You must be careful; he does not +fancy teasing."</p> +<p>"O, I shall not accuse him, you may be sure; that is, if he ever +comes. Do you believe he really ever will?"</p> +<p>"Not if he thinks you want him," said Kilian, amiably. "He has a +great aversion to being made much of."</p> +<p>"Yes, a family trait," interrupted Charlotte, at which everybody +laughed, no one more cordially than Miss Leighton.</p> +<p>"Leave off laughing at my Uncle Richard," said Benny, stoutly, +with his cheeks quite flushed.</p> +<p>"We have, dear, and are laughing at your Uncle Kilian. You don't +object to that, I'm sure," and Charlotte Benson leaned forward and +threw him a little kiss past the tutor, who wore a silent, +abstracted look, in odd contrast with the animated expressions of +the faces all around him.</p> +<p>Benny did not like the joke at all, and got down from his chair +and walked away without permission. We all followed him, going into +the hall, and from thence to the piazza, as the night was fine. The +tutor walked silently through the group in the hall to a seat where +lay his book and hat, then passed through the doorway and +disappeared from sight.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V."></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<h3>THE TUTOR.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>And now above them pours a wondrous voice,<br> +(Such as Greek reapers heard in Sicily),<br> +With wounding rapture in it, like love's arrows.<br> +<br> +<i>George Eliot</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The next day, the first of my visit, was a very sultry one, and +the rest of the party thought it was, no doubt, a very dull +one.</p> +<p>Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney went away in the early train, not +to return, alas, till the evening of the following day. Miss +Leighton was languid, and yawned incessantly, though she tried to +appear interested in things, and was very attentive to me. +Charlotte Benson and Henrietta laid strong-minded plans for the +day, and carried them out faithfully. First, they played a game of +croquet, under umbrellas, for the sun was blazing on the ground: +that was for exercise; then, for mental discipline, they read +history for an hour in the library; and then, for relaxation, under +veils and sunhats, read Ruskin for two hours by the river.</p> +<p>I cannot think Henrietta understood Ruskin, but I have no doubt +she thought she did, and tried to share in her friend's enthusiasm. +Sophie had a little headache, and spent much of the morning in her +room. The boys were away with their tutor in the farm-house where +they had their school-room, and the house seemed deserted and +delightful. I wandered about at ease, chose my book, and sat for +hours in the boat-house by the river, not reading Ruskin, nor even +my poor little novel, but gazing and dreaming and wondering. It can +be imagined what the country seemed to me, in beautiful summer +weather, after the dreary years I had spent in a city-street.</p> +<p>It is quite impossible to describe all that seemed starting into +life within me, all at once--- so many new forces, so much new +life.</p> +<p>My home-sickness had passed away, and I was inclined to be very +happy, particularly in the liberty that seemed to promise. Dinner +was very quiet, and every one seemed dull, even Charlotte Benson, +who ordinarily had life enough for all. The boys were there, but +their tutor had gone away on a long walk and would not be back till +evening. "<i>A la bonne heure</i>," cried Madame, with a little +yawn; "freedom of the halls, and deshabille, for one +afternoon."</p> +<p>So we spent the afternoon with our doors open, and with books, +or without books, on the bed.</p> +<p>Nobody came into my room, except Mrs. Hollenbeck for a few +moments, looking very pretty in a white peignoir, and rather sleepy +at the same time; hoping I was comfortable and had found something +to amuse me in the library.</p> +<p>It seemed to be thought a great bore to dress, to judge from the +exclamations of ennui which I heard in the hall, as six o'clock +approached, and the young ladies wandered into each other's room +and bewailed the necessity. I think Miss Leighton would have been +very glad to have stayed on the bed, and tried to sleep away the +hours that presented no amusement; but Charlotte Benson laughed at +her so cruelly, that she began to dress at once, and said, she had +not intended what she said, of course.</p> +<p>I was the first to be ready, and went down to the piazza. The +heat of the day was over and there was a soft, pleasant breeze. We +were to have tea at seven o'clock, and while I sat there, the bell +rang. The tutor came in from under the trees where he had been +reading, looking rather pale after his long walk.</p> +<p>He bowed slightly as he passed me, and waited at the other end +of the piazza, reading as he stood, till the others came down to +the dining-room. As we were seating ourselves he came in and took +his place, with a bow to me and the others. Mrs. Hollenbeck asked +him a little about his expedition, and paid him a little more +attention than usual, being the only man.</p> +<p>He had a most fortunate way of saying just the right thing and +then being silent; never speaking unless addressed, and then +conveying exactly the impression he desired. I think he must have +appeared in a more interesting light that usual at this meal, for +as we went out from the dining room Mary Leighton put her arm +through mine and whispered "Poor fellow! How lonely he must be! +Let's ask him to go and walk with us this evening."</p> +<p>Before I could remonstrate or detach myself from her, she had +twisted herself about, in a peculiarly supple and child-like manner +that she had, and had made the suggestion to him.</p> +<p>He was immeasurably surprised, no doubt, but he gave no sign of +it. After a silence of two or three instants, during which, I +think, he was occupied in trying to find a way to decline, he +assented very sedately.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson and her friend, who were behind us, were +enraged at this proceeding. During the week they had all been in +the house together, they had never gone beyond speaking terms with +the tutor, and this they had agreed was the best way to keep +things, and it seemed to be his wish no less than theirs. Here was +this saucy girl, in want of amusement, upsetting all their plans. +They shortly declined to go to walk with us: and so Mary Leighton, +Mr. Langenau, and I started alone toward the river.</p> +<p>It must be confessed, Miss Leighton was not rewarded for her +effort, for a stiffer and more uncomfortable companion could not be +imagined. He entirely declined to respond to her coquetry, and she +very soon found she must abandon this role; but she was nothing if +not coquettish, and the conversation flagged uncomfortably. Before +we reached home she was quite impatient, and ran up the steps, when +we got there, as if it were a great relief. The tutor raised his +hat when he left us at the door, turned back, and disappeared for +the rest of the evening.</p> +<p>The next morning, coming down-stairs half an hour before +breakfast, I went into the library (a little room at the right of +the front door), for a book I had left there. I threw myself into +an easy-chair, and opened it, when I caught sight of the tutor, +reading at the window. I half started to my feet, and then sank +back again in confusion; for what was there to go away for?</p> +<p>He rose and bowed, and resumed his seat and his book.</p> +<p>The room was quite small, and we were very near each other. How +I could possibly have missed seeing him as I entered, now surprised +me. I longed to go away, but did not dare do anything that would +seem rude. He appeared very much engrossed with his book, but I, +for my part, could not read a word, and was only thinking how I +could get away. Possibly he guessed at my embarrassment, for after +about ten minutes he arose, and coming up to the table by which I +sat, he took up a card, and placed it in his book for a mark, and +shut it up, then made some remark to me about the day.</p> +<p>The color was coming and going in my face.</p> +<p>He must have felt sorry or curious, for he did not go directly +away, and continued to talk of things that did not require me to +answer him.</p> +<p>I do not know what it was about his voice that was so different +from the ordinary voices of people. There was a quality in it that +I had never heard in any other. But perhaps it was in the ear that +listened, as well as the voice that spoke. And apart from the +tones, the words I never could forget. The most trivial things that +he ever said to me, I can remember to this day.</p> +<p>I believe that this was not of my imagination, but that others +felt it in some degree as I did. It was this that made him such an +invaluable teacher; he impressed upon those flesh-and-blood boys, +in that one summer, more than they would have learned in whole +years from ordinary persons. It was not very strange, then, that I +was smitten with the strangest interest in all he said and did, and +that his words made the deepest impression on me.</p> +<p>No doubt it is pleasant to be listened to by one whose face +tells you you are understood; and the tutor was not in a hurry to +go away. He had got up from the window, I know, with the intention +of going out of the room, but he continued standing, looking down +at me and talking, for half an hour at least.</p> +<p>The soft morning wind came in at the open door and window, with +a scent of rose and honeysuckle: the pretty little room was full of +the early sunshine in which there is no glare: I can see it all +now, and I can hear, as ever, his low voice.</p> +<p>He talked of the book I held in my hand, of the views on the +river, of the pleasantness of country life. I fancy I did not say +much, though I never am able to remember what I said when talking +to him. Whatever I said was a mere involuntary accord with him. I +never recollect to have felt that I did not agree with and admire +every word he uttered.</p> +<p>How different his manner from last night when he had talked with +Mary Leighton; all the stiffness, the half-concealed repelling tone +was gone. I had not heard him speak to any one, except perhaps once +to Benny, as he spoke now. I was quite sure that he liked me, and +that he did not class me with the others in the house. But when the +breakfast-bell rang, he gave a slight start, and his voice changed; +and such a frown came over his face! He looked at his watch, said +something about the hour, and quickly left the room. I bent my head +over my book and sat still, till I heard them all come down and go +into the breakfast-room. I trusted they would not know he had been +talking to me, and there was little danger, unless they guessed it +from my cheeks being so aflame.</p> +<p>At breakfast he was more silent than ever, and his brow had not +quite got over that sudden frown. At dinner he was away again, as +the day before.</p> +<p>The day passed much as yesterday had done. About four o'clock +there came a telegram from Kilian to his sister. He had been +delayed, and Mr. Whitney would wait for him, and they would come +the next evening by the boat. I think Mary Leighton could have +cried if she had not been ashamed. Her pretty blue organdie was on +the bed ready to put on. It went back into the wardrobe very +quickly, and she came down to tea in a gray barége that was +a little shabby.</p> +<p>A rain had come on about six o'clock. At tea the candles were +lit, and the windows closed. Every one looked moped and dull; the +evening promised to be insufferable. Mrs. Hollenbeck saw the +necessity of rousing herself and providing us some amusement. When +Mr. Langenau entered, she met his bow with one of her best smiles: +how the change must have struck him; for she had been very +mechanical and polite to him before. Now she spoke to him with the +charming manner that brought every one to her feet.</p> +<p>And what was the cause of this sudden kindness? It is very easy +for me to see now, though then I had not a suspicion. Alas! I am +afraid that the cheeks aflame at breakfast-time were the immediate +cause of the change. Mrs. Hollenbeck would not have made so marked +a movement for an evening's entertainment: it seemed to suit her +very well that I should talk to the tutor in the library before +breakfast, and she meant to give me opportunities for talking to +him in the parlor too.</p> +<p>"A dreary evening, is it not?" she began. "What shall we all do? +Charlotte, can't you think of something?"</p> +<p>Charlotte, who had her own plans for a quiet evening by the lamp +with a new book, of course could not think of anything.</p> +<p>"Henrietta, at least you shall give us some music, and Mr. +Langenau, I am sure you will be good enough to help us; I will send +over to the school-room for that flute and those piles of music +that I've seen upon a shelf, and you will be charitable enough to +play for us."</p> +<p>"I must beg you will not take that trouble."</p> +<p>"Oh, Mr. Langenau, that is selfish now."</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck did not press the subject then, but made herself +thoroughly delightful during tea, and as we rose from the table +renewed the request in a low tone to Mr. Langenau: and the result +was, a little after eight o'clock he came into the parlor where we +sat. A place was made for him at the table around which we were +sitting, and Mrs. Hollenbeck began the process of putting him at +his ease. There was no need. The tutor was quite as much at ease as +any one, and, in a little while, imperceptibly became the person to +whom we were all listening.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson at last gave up her book, and took her work-box +instead. We were no longer moping and dull around the table. And +bye and bye Henrietta, much alarmed, was sent to the piano, and her +poor little music certainly sounded very meagre when Mr. Langenau +touched the keys.</p> +<p>I think he consented to play not to appear rude, but with the +firm intention of not being the instrument of our entertainment, +and not being made use of out of his own accepted calling. But +happily for us, he soon forgot all about us, and played on, +absorbed in himself and in his music. We listened breathlessly, the +others quite as much engrossed as I, because they all knew much +more of music than I did. Suddenly, after playing for a long while, +he started from the piano, and came back to the table. He was +evidently agitated. Before the others could say a word of thanks or +wonder, I cried, in a fear of the cessation of what gave me such +intense pleasure,</p> +<p>"Oh, sing something; can't you sing?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I can sing," he said, looking down at me with those +dangerous eyes. "Will it give you pleasure if I sing for you?"</p> +<p>He did not wait for an answer, but turned back to the piano.</p> +<p>He had said "if I sing for you," and I knew that for me he was +singing. I do not know what it was for others, but for me, it was +the only true music that I had ever heard, the only music that I +could have begged might never cease, but flood over all the present +and the future, satisfying every sense. Other voices had roused and +thrilled, this filled me. I asked no more, and could have died with +that sound in my ears.</p> +<p>"Why, Pauline! child! what is it?" cried Mrs. Hollenbeck, as the +music ceased and Mr. Langenau. again came back to the circle round +the table. Every one looked: I was choking with sobs.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't, I don't want you to speak to me," I cried, putting +away her hand and darting from the room. I was not ashamed of +myself, even when I was alone in my room. The powerful magic lasted +still, through the silence and darkness, till I was aroused by the +voices of the others coming up to bed.</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck knocked at my door with her bedroom candle in +her hand, and, as she stood talking to me, the others strayed in to +join her and to satisfy their curiosity.</p> +<p>"You are very sensitive to music, are you not?" said Charlotte +Benson, contemplatively. She had tried me on Mompssen, and the +"Seven Lamps," and found me wanting, and now perhaps hoped to find +some other point less faulty.</p> +<p>"I do not know," I said, honestly. "I seem to have been very +sensitive to-night."</p> +<p>"But you are not always?" asked Henrietta Palmer. "You do not +always cry when people sing?"</p> +<p>"Why, no," I said with great contempt. "But I never heard any +one sing like that before."</p> +<p>"He does sing well," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"Immense expression and a fine voice," added Charlotte +Benson.</p> +<p>"He has been educated for the stage, you may be sure," said Mary +Leighton, with a little spite. "As Miss d'Estrée says, I +never heard anyone sing like that, out of the chorus of an +opera."</p> +<p>"Well, I think," returned Charlotte Benson, "if there were many +voices like that in ordinary choruses, one would be glad to +dispense with the solos and duets."</p> +<p>"Oh, you would not find his voice so wonderful, if you heard it +out of a parlor. It is very well, but it would not fill a concert +hall, much less an opera house. No; you may be sure he has been +educated for some of those German choruses; you know they are very +fine musicians."</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know that it is anything to us what he was +educated for," said Charlotte Benson, sharply. "He has given us a +very delightful evening, and I, for one, am much obliged to +him."</p> +<p>"<i>Et moi aussi"</i> murmured Henrietta, wreathing her large +beautiful arms about her friend, and the two sauntered away.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton, in general ill-humor, and still remembering the +walk of the last evening, desired to fire a parting-shot, and +exclaimed, as she went out, "Well, I think it is something to us; I +like to have gentlemen about me."</p> +<p>"You need not be uneasy," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, a little +stiffly. "I think Mr. Langenau is a gentleman."</p> +<p>But at this moment his step was heard in the hall below, and +there was an end put to the conversation.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI."></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<h3>MATINAL.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Last night, when some one spoke his name,<br> +From my swift blood that went and came<br> +A thousand little shafts of flame<br> +Were shivered in my narrow frame.<br> +<br> + <i> +Tennyson</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>The next morning was brilliant and cool, the earth and heavens +shining after the rain of the past night. I was dressed long, long +before breakfast: it would be so tiresome to wait in my room till +the bell rang; yet if I went down-stairs, would it not look as if I +wanted to see Mr. Langenau again? I need not go to the library, of +course, but I could scarcely avoid being seen from the library if I +went out. But why suppose that he would be down again so early? It +was very improbable, and so, affectionately deceived, I put on a +hat and walking-jacket and stole down the stairs. I saw by the +clock in the lower hall that it was half an hour earlier than I had +come down the morning before; at which I was secretly chagrined, +for now there was no danger, <i>alias</i> hope, of seeing Mr. +Langenau.</p> +<p>But probably he had forgotten all about the foolish half-hour +that had given me so much to think about. I glanced into the +library, which was empty, and hurried out of the hall-door, +secretly disappointed.</p> +<p>I took the path that led over the hill to the river. It passed +through the garden, under the long arbors of grapevines, over the +hill, and through a grove of maples, ending at the river where the +boat-house stood. The brightness of the morning was not lost on me, +and before I reached the maple-grove I was buoyant and happy. At +the entrance of the grove (which was traversed by several paths, +the principal coming up directly from the river) I came suddenly +upon the tutor, walking rapidly, with a pair of oars over his +shoulder. He started, and for a moment we both stood still and did +not speak. I could only think with confusion of my emotion when he +sang.</p> +<p>"You are always early," he said, with his slight, very slight, +foreign accent, "earlier than yesterday by half an hour," he added, +looking at his watch. My heart gave a great bound of pleasure. Then +he had not forgotten! How he must have seen all this.</p> +<p>He stood and talked with me for some moments, and then +desperately I made a movement to go on. I do not believe, at least +I am not sure, that at first he had any intention of going with me. +But it was not in human nature to withstand the flattery of such +emotion as his presence seemed always to inspire in me; and then, I +have no doubt, he had a certain pleasure in talking to me outside +of that; and then the morning was so lovely and he had so much of +books.</p> +<p>He proposed to show me a walk I had not taken. There was a +little hesitation in his manner, but he was reassured by my look of +pleasure, and throwing down the oars under a tree, he turned and +walked beside me. No doubt he said to himself, "America! This +paradise of girlhood;--there can be no objection." It was heavenly +sweet, that walk--the birds, the sky, the dewiness and freshness of +all nature and all life. It seemed the unstained beginning of all +things to me.</p> +<p>The woods were wet; we could not go through them, and so we went +a longer way, along the river and back by the road.</p> +<p>This time he did not do all the talking, but made me talk, and +listened carefully to all I said; and I was so happy, talking was +not any effort.</p> +<p>At last he made some allusion to the music of last night; that +he was so glad to see that I loved music as I did. "But I don't +particularly," I said in confusion, with a great fear of being +dishonest, "at least I never thought I did before, and I am so +ignorant. I don't want you to think I know anything about it, for +you would be disappointed." He was silent, and, I felt sure, +because he was already disappointed; in fear of which I went on to +say--</p> +<p>"I never heard any one sing like that before; I am very sorry +that it gave any one an impression that I had a knowledge of music, +when I hadn't. I don't care about it generally, except in church, +and I can't understand what made me feel so yesterday."</p> +<p>"Perhaps it is because you were in the mood for it," he said. +"It is often so, one time music gives us pleasure, another time it +does not."</p> +<p>"That may be so; but your voice, in speaking, even, seems to me +different from any other. It is almost as good as music when you +speak; only the music fills me with such feelings."</p> +<p>"You must let me sing for you again," he said, rather low, as we +walked slowly on.</p> +<p>"Ah; if you only will," I answered, with a deep sigh of +satisfaction.</p> +<p>We walked on in silence till we reached the gate: he opened it +for me and then said, "Now I must leave you, and go back for the +oars."</p> +<p>I was secretly glad of this; since the walk had reached its +natural limit and its end must be accepted, it was a relief to +approach the house alone and not be the subject of any +observation.</p> +<p>Breakfast had began: no one seemed to feel much interest in my +entrance, though flaming with red roses and red cheeks.</p> +<p>They were of the sex that do not notice such things naturally, +with much interest or admiration. They had hardly "shaken off +drowsy-hed," and had no pleasure in anything but their breakfast, +and not much in that.</p> +<p>"How do you manage to get yourself up and dressed at such +inhuman hours?" said Mary Leighton, querulously.</p> +<p>"You are a reproach to the household, and we will not suffer +it," said Charlotte Benson.</p> +<p>"I never could understand this thing of getting up before you +are obliged to," added Henrietta plaintively.</p> +<p>But Sophie seemed well satisfied, particularly when Mr. Langenau +came in and I looked down into my cup of tea, instead of saying +good-morning to him. He did not say very much, though there was a +good deal of babble among the others, principally about his +music.</p> +<p>It was becoming the fashion to be very attentive to him. He was +made to promise to play in the evening; to bring down his books of +music for the benefit of Miss Henrietta, who wanted to practice, +Heaven knows what of his. His advice was asked about styles of +playing and modes of instruction; he was deferred to as an +authority. But very little he seemed to care about it all, I +thought.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII."></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<h3>THREE WEEKS TOO LATE.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote><i>Qui va à la chasse perd sa place</i>.<br> +<br> +<i>De la main à la bouche se perd souvent la soupe</i>.<br> +<br> + Distance all value enhances!<br> +When a man's busy, why, leisure<br> +Strikes him as wonderful pleasure.<br> +Faith! and at leisure once is he,<br> +Straightway he wants to be busy.<br> +<br> +<i>R. Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Two weeks more passed: two weeks that seem to me so many years +when I look back upon them. Many more walks, early and late, many +evenings of music, many accidents of meeting. It is all like a +dream. At seventeen it is so easy to dream! It does not take two +weeks for a girl to fall in love and make her whole life +different.</p> +<p>It was Saturday evening, and Richard was expected; Richard and +Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney. Ah, Richard was coming just three +weeks too late.</p> +<p>We were all waiting on the piazza for them, in pretty toilettes +and excellent tempers. It was a lovely evening; the sunset was +filling the sky with splendor, and Charlotte and Henrietta had gone +to the corner of the piazza whence the river could be seen, and +were murmuring fragments of verses to each other. They were not so +much absorbed, however, but that they heard the first sound of the +wheels inside the gate, and hurried back to join us by the +steps.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton looked absolutely lovely. The blue organdie had +seen the day at last, and she was in such a flutter of delight at +the coming of the gentlemen that she could scarcely be recognized +as the pale, flimsy young person who had moped so unblushingly all +the week.</p> +<p>"They are all three there," she exclaimed with suppressed +rapture, as the carriage turned the angle of the road that brought +them into sight. Mrs. Hollenbeck, quite beaming with pleasure, ran +down the steps (for Richard had been away almost two months), and +Mary Leighton was at her side, of course. Charlotte Benson and +Henrietta went half-way down the steps, and I stood on the piazza +by the pillar near the door.</p> +<p>I was a little excited by their coming, too, but not nearly as +much so as I might have been three weeks ago. A subject of much +greater interest occupied my mind that very moment, and related to +the chances of the tutor's getting home in time for tea, from one +of those long walks that were so tiresome. I felt as if I hardly +needed Richard now. Still, dear old Richard! It was very nice to +see him once again.</p> +<p>The gentlemen all sprang out of the carriage, and a Babel of +welcomes and questions and exclamations arose. Richard kissed his +sister, and answered some of her many questions, then shook hands +with the young ladies, but I could see that his eye was searching +for me. I can't tell why, certainly not because I felt at all shy, +I had stepped back, a little behind the pillar and the vines. In an +instant he saw me, and came quickly up the steps, and stood by me +and grasped my hand, and looked exactly as if he meant to kiss me. +I hoped that nobody saw his look, and I drew back, a little +frightened. Of course, I know that he had not the least intention +of kissing me, but his look was so eager and so unusual,</p> +<p>"It is two months, Pauline," he said; "and are you well?" And +though I only said that I was well and was very glad to see him, I +am sure his sister Sophie thought that it was something more, for +she had followed him up the steps and stood in the doorway looking +at us.</p> +<p>The others came up there, and Kilian, as soon as he could get +out of the meshes of the blue organdie, came to me, and tried to +out-devotion Richard.</p> +<p>That is the way with men. He had not taken any trouble to get +away from Mary Leighton till Richard came.</p> +<p>A young woman only needs one lover very much in earnest, to +bring about her several others, not so much, perhaps, in earnest, +but very amusing and instructive. Richard went away very quickly, +for I am sure he did not like that sort of thing.</p> +<p>It was soon necessary for Mr. Kilian to suspend his devotion and +go to his room to get ready for tea.</p> +<p>When we all assembled again, at the table, I found that he had +placed himself beside me, next his sister, little Benny having gone +to bed.</p> +<p>"Of course, the head of the table belongs to Richard; I never +interfere there, and as everybody else is placed, this is the only +seat that I can take, following the rose and thorn principle."</p> +<p>"But that principle is not followed strictly," cried Charlotte +Benson, who sat by Mary Leighton. "Here are two roses and no +thorn."</p> +<p>"Ah! What a strange oversight," he exclaimed, seating himself +nevertheless. "The only way to remedy it will be to put the tutor +in your place, Miss Benson, and you come opposite Miss Pauline. +Quick; before he comes and refuses to move his Teutonic bones an +inch." Charlotte Benson changed her seat and the vacant one was +left between her and Mary Leighton.</p> +<p>This is the order of our seats, for that and many following +happy nights and days:</p> +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Richard,</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Mary Leighton,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Henrietta,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Tutor,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Mr. Eugene Whitney,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Charlotte Benson,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Myself,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Charley,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Kilian,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Sophie.</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +</table> +</blockquote> +<p>Mary Leighton looked furious and could hardly speak a word all +through the meal. It was particularly hard upon her, as the tutor +did not come, and the chair was empty, and a glaring insult to her +all the time.</p> +<p>Kilian had done his part so innocently and so simply that it was +hard to suspect him of any intention to pique her and annoy +Richard, but I am sure he did it with just those two intentions. He +was as thorough a flirt as any woman, and withal very fond of +change, and I think my pink grenadine quite dazzled him as I stood +on the piazza. Then came the brotherly and quite natural desire to +outshine Richard and put things out a little. I liked it all very +much, and was charmed to be of so much consequence, for I saw all +this quite plainly. I laughed and talked a good deal with Kilian; +he was delightful to laugh and talk with. Even Eugene Whitney found +me more worth his weak attention than the beautiful and placid +Henrietta.</p> +<p>The amusement was chiefly at our end of the table. But amidst +it, I did not fail to glance often at the door and wonder, +uncomfortably, why the tutor did not come.</p> +<p>As we left the table and lingered for a few moments in the hall, +Richard came up to me and said, as he prepared to light his cigar, +"Will you not come out and walk up and down the path here with me +while I smoke?"</p> +<p>I began to make some excuse, for I wanted to do nothing just +then but watch the stairway to see if Mr. Langenau did not come +down even then and go into the dining-room.</p> +<p>But I reflected how ungracious it would seem to refuse this, +when he had just come home, and I followed him out into the +path.</p> +<p>There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, and the air +was sweet with the flower-beds in the grass along the path we +walked.</p> +<p>The house looked gay and pleasant as we walked up and down +before it, with its many lighted windows, and people with bright +dresses moving about on the piazza. Richard lit his cigar, and +said, after a silence of a few moments, with a sigh, "It is good to +be at home again."</p> +<p>"But you've had a pleasant journey?"</p> +<p>"No; the most tiresome that I ever made, and this last detention +wore my patience out. It seemed the longest fortnight. I could not +bear to think of you all here, and I away in such a dismal +hole."</p> +<p>"I suppose Uncle Leonard had no pity on you, as long as there +was a penny to be made by staying there."</p> +<p>"No; I spent a great deal of money in telegraphing to him for +orders to come home, but he would not give up."</p> +<p>"And how is Uncle Leonard; did you go to Varick-street?"</p> +<p>"No, indeed; I did not waste any time in town. I only reached +there yesterday."</p> +<p>"I wonder Uncle Leonard let you off so soon."</p> +<p>"He growled a good deal, but I did not stay to listen."</p> +<p>"That's always the best way."</p> +<p>"And now, Pauline, tell me how you like the place."</p> +<p>"Like it! Oh, Richard, I think it is a Paradise," and I clasped +my hands in a young sort of ecstacy.</p> +<p>He was silent, which was a sign that he was satisfied. I went on +after a moment, "I don't wonder that you all love it. I never saw +anything half so beautiful. The dear old house is prettier than any +new one that could be built, and the trees are so grand! And oh, +Richard, I think the garden lying on the hillside there in the +beautiful warm sun, with such royal flowers and fruit, is worth all +the grape-houses and conservatories in the neighborhood. Your +sister took us to three or four of the neighboring places a week or +two ago. But I like this a hundred times the best. I should think +you would be sorry every moment that you have to spend away from +it."</p> +<p>"I hope one of these days to live here altogether," he said in a +low tone.</p> +<p>It was so difficult for Richard to be unreserved that it is very +likely this was the first time in his life that he had ever +expressed this, the brightest hope he had.</p> +<p>I could fancy all these few words implied--a wife, children, a +happy home in manhood where he had been a happy child.</p> +<p>"It belongs to Kilian and me, but it is understood I have the +right to it when I am ready for it."</p> +<p>"And your sister--it does not belong at all to her?"</p> +<p>"No, she only keeps house for us. It would make a great change +for Sophie if either of us married. But then I know that it would +give her pleasure, for I am sure that she would not be +selfish."</p> +<p>I was not so sure, but, of course, I did not say so. At this +moment, while Richard smoked and I walked silently beside him, a +dark figure struck directly across the path before us. The +apparition was so sudden that I sprang and screamed, and caught +Richard by the arm.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," said the tutor, with a quick look of +surprise at me and then at Richard, and bowing, strode on into the +house.</p> +<p>"That's the German Sophie has taken for the boys, is it?" said +Richard, knitting his brows, and looking after him, with no great +approbation. "I don't half like the idea of his being here: I told +Sophie so at starting. A governess would do as well for two years +yet. What kind of a person does he seem to be?"</p> +<p>"I don't know--that is--I can't tell exactly. I don't know him +well enough," I answered in confusion, which Richard did not +see.</p> +<p>"No, of course not. You would not be likely to see him except at +the table. But it is awkward having him here,--so much of the week, +no man about; and one never knows anything about these +Germans."</p> +<p>"I thought--your sister said--you knew all about him," I said, +in rather a low voice.</p> +<p>"As much as one needs to know about a mere teacher. But the +person you have in your house all the time is different."</p> +<p>"But he is a gentleman," I put in more firmly.</p> +<p>"I hope he is. He had letters to some friends of ours. But what +are letters? People give them when they're asked for them, and half +the time know nothing of the person for whom they do the favor, +besides his name and general standing. Hardly that, sometimes." +Then, as if to put away a tiresome and unwelcome subject, he began +again to talk about the place.</p> +<p>But I had lost my interest in the subject, and thought only of +returning to the house.</p> +<p>"Don't," I said, playfully putting out my hand as he took out +another cigar to light. "You have smoked enough to-night. Do you +know, you smoke a great deal more than is good for you."</p> +<p>"Well, I will not smoke any more to-night if you say so. Only +don't go in the house."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, you know we only came out to smoke."</p> +<p>He stood in front of the path that led to the piazza and said, +in an affectionate, gentle way, "Stay and walk a little longer. I +have not told you half how glad I am that you are here at +last."</p> +<p>"Oh, as for that, you've got a good many weeks to tell me in. +Besides, it's getting chilly," and I gave a little shiver.</p> +<p>"If you're cold, of course," he said, letting me pass and +following me, and added, with a shade of anxiety, "Why didn't you +tell me before? I never thought of it, and you have no shawl."</p> +<p>I felt ashamed of myself as I led the way up the piazza +steps.</p> +<p>In the hall, which was quite light, they were all standing, and +Mr. Langenau was in the group. They were petitioning him for +music.</p> +<p>"Oh, he has promised that he will sing," said Sophie; "but +remember he has not had his tea. I have ordered it for you, Mr. +Langenau; it will be ready in a moment."</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau bowed and turned to go up the stairs. His eye met +mine, as I came into the light, dazzled a little by it.</p> +<p>He went up the stairs; the others after a few moments, went into +the parlor. I sat down on a sofa beside Mrs. Hollenbeck. Richard +was called away by a person on business. There was a shaded lamp on +a bracket above the sofa where we sat; Mrs. Hollenbeck was reading +some letters she had just received, and I took up the evening +paper, reading over and over an advertisement of books. Presently +the servant came to Mrs. Hollenbeck and said that Mr. Langenau's +tea was ready. She was sent up to tell him so, and in a few moments +he came down. When he reached the hall, Sophie looked up with her +most lovely smile.</p> +<p>"You must be famished, Mr. Langenau; pray go immediately to the +dining-room. I am sorry not to make your tea myself, but I hear +Benny waking and must go to him. Will you mind taking my place, +Pauline, and pouring out tea for Mr. Langenau?"</p> +<p>I was bending over the paper; my face turned suddenly from red +to pale. I said something inaudible in reply, and got up and went +into the dining-room, followed by the tutor.</p> +<p>It was several minutes before I looked at him. The servants had +not favored us with much light: there was a branch of wax candles +in the middle of the table. Mr. Langenau's plate was placed just at +one side of the tray, at which I had seated myself. He looked pale, +even to his lips. I began to think of the terrible walks in which +he seemed to hunt himself down, and to wonder what was the motive, +though I had often wondered that before. He took the cup of tea I +offered him without speaking. Neither of us spoke for several +minutes, then I said, rather irresolutely, "I am sure you tire +yourself by these long walks."</p> +<p>"Do you think so? No: they rest me."</p> +<p>No doubt I felt more coquettish, and had more confidence than +usual, from the successes of that evening, and from the knowledge +that Richard and Kilian and Eugene Whitney, even, were so delighted +to talk to me; otherwise I could never have said what I said then, +by a sudden impulse, and with a half-laughing voice, "Do not go +away again so long; it makes it so dull and tiresome."</p> +<p>He looked at me and said, "It does not seem to me you miss me +very much." But such a gleam of those dark, dangerous eyes! I +looked down, but my breath came quickly and my face must have shown +the agitation that I felt.</p> +<p>At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the +library, came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door. +He paused for a moment at the door, walked away again, then came +back and into the room, with rather a quicker step than usual.</p> +<p>"Pauline," he said, and I started visibly, "They seem to be +waiting for you in the parlor for a game of cards."</p> +<p>His voice indicated anything but satisfaction. I half rose, then +sank back, and said, hesitatingly, "Can I pour you some more tea, +Mr. Langenau?"</p> +<p>"If it is not troubling you too much," he said in a voice that a +moment's time had hardened into sharpness.</p> +<p>Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on +one side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and +cynical. My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and +Richard angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the +lamp flamed up and scorched my arm.</p> +<p>"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and +wrapping my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all +softness and kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance.</p> +<p>"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come +with me, and I will get Sophie to put something on it."</p> +<p>But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my +sufferings. I was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the +other hand to replace the cup and fill it. Seeing that I did not +make much headway, and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau +said, "Allow me," and held the cup while I managed to pour the tea +into it. He thanked me stiffly, and without looking at either of +them I got up and went out of the room, Richard following me.</p> +<p>"Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for +you?" he said a little coldly.</p> +<p>"No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything +more about it; it only hurt me for a moment."</p> +<p>"Will you go into the parlor, then?"</p> +<p>"No--yes, that is," I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he +did not follow me.</p> +<p>I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by +one of the windows, a little out of the light. This window opened +upon the piazza. After a little while Richard, walking up and down +the piazza, stopped by it, and said to me: "I hope you won't think +it unreasonable in me to ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you +happen to be making tea for that--that man in there?"</p> +<p>"I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister +asked me to," I said angrily; "you had better speak to her about +it."</p> +<p>"You may be sure I shall," he said, walking away from the +window.</p> +<p>Presently the tutor came in from the hall by the door near the +piano, and sat down by it without being asked, and began to play +softly, as if not to interrupt the game of cards. I could not help +thinking in what good taste this was, since he had promised not to +wait for any more importunities. The game at cards soon languished, +for Charlotte Benson really had an enthusiasm for music, and was +not happy till she was at liberty to give her whole attention to +it. As soon as the players were released, Kilian came over and sat +beside me. He rather wearied me, for I wanted to listen to the +music, but he was determined not to see that, and chattered so that +more than once Charlotte Benson turned impatiently and begged us +not to talk. Once Mr. Langenau himself turned and looked at us, but +Kilian only paused, and then went on again.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton had fled to the piano and was gazing at the keys +in a rapt manner, hoping, no doubt, to rouse Kilian to jealousy of +the tutor.</p> +<p>"Please go away," I said at last, "this is making me seem +rude."</p> +<p>"Do not tell me," he exclaimed, "that you are helping Mary +Leighton and Sophie to spoil this German fellow. I really did not +look for it in you. I--"</p> +<p>"I can't stay here and be talked to," I said, getting up in +despair.</p> +<p>"Then come on the piazza," he exclaimed, and we were there +almost before I knew what I was doing.</p> +<p>I suppose every one in the room saw us go out: I was in terror +when I thought what an insult it would seem to Mr. Langenau. We +walked about the piazza for some time; I am afraid Mr. Kilian found +me rather dull, for I could only listen to what was going on +inside. At last he was called away by a man from the stable, who +brought some alarming account of his beloved Tom or Jerry. If I had +been his bride at the altar, I am sure he would have left me; being +only a new and very faintly-lighted flame, he hurried off with +scarcely an apology.</p> +<p>I sat down in a piazza-chair, just outside the window at which +we had been sitting. I looked in at the window, but no one could +see me, from the position of my chair.</p> +<p>Presently Mr. Langenau left the piano, and Mary Leighton, +talking to him with effusion, walked across the room beside him, +and took her seat at this very window. He did not sit down, but +stood before her with his hat in his hand, as if he only awaited a +favorable pause to go away.</p> +<p>"Ah, where did Pauline go?" she said, glancing around. "But I +suppose we must excuse her, for to-night at least, as he has just +come home. I imagine the engagement was no surprise to you?"</p> +<p>"Of what engagement do you speak?" he said.</p> +<p>"Why! Pauline and Richard Vandermarck; you know it is quite a +settled thing. And very good for her, I think. He seems to me just +the sort of man to keep her steady and--well, improve her +character, you know. She seems such a heedless sort of girl. They +say her mother ran away and made some horrid marriage, and, I +believe, her uncle has had to keep her very strict. He is very much +pleased, I am told, with marrying her to Richard, and she herself +seems very much in love with him."</p> +<p>All this time he had stood very still and looked at her, but his +face had changed slowly as she spoke. I knew then that what she had +said had not pleased him. She went on in her babbling, soft +voice:</p> +<p>"His sister Sophie isn't pleased, of course, so there is nothing +said about it here. It <i>is</i> rather hard for her, for the place +belongs to Richard, and besides, Richard has been very generous to +her always. And then to see him marry just such a sort of +person--you know--so young--"</p> +<p>"Yes--so young," said Mr. Langenau, between his teeth, "and of +such charming innocence."</p> +<p>"Oh, as to that," said Mary Leighton, piqued beyond prudence, +"we all have our own views as to that."</p> +<p>The largess due the bearer of good news was not by right the +meed of Mary Leighton. He looked at her as if he hated her.</p> +<p>"Mr. Richard Yandermarck is a fortunate man," he said. "She has +rare beauty, if he has a taste for beauty."</p> +<p>"Men sometimes tire of that; if indeed she has it. Her coloring +is her strong point, and that may not last forever;" and Mary's +voice was no longer silvery.</p> +<p>"You think so?" he said. "I think her grace is her strong point, +'<i>la grâce encore plus belle que la beauté</i>,' and +longer-lived beside. Few women move as she does, making it a +pleasure to follow her with the eyes. And her height and +suppleness: at twenty-five she will be regal."</p> +<p>"Then, Mr. Langenau," she cried, with sudden spitefulness, "you +<i>do</i> admire her very much yourself! Do you know, I thought +perhaps you did. How you must envy Mr. Vandermarck!"</p> +<p>A slight shrug of the shoulders and a slight low laugh; after +which, he said, "No, I think not. I have not the courage that is +necessary."</p> +<p>"The courage! why, what do you mean by that?"</p> +<p>"I mean that a man who ventures to love a woman in whom he +cannot trust, has need for courage and for patience; perhaps Mr. +Richard Vandermarck has them both abundantly. For me, I think the +pretty Miss Pauline would be safer as an hour's amusement than as a +life's companion."</p> +<p>The words stabbed, killed me. With an ejaculation that could +scarcely have escaped their ears, I sprang up and ran through the +hall and up the stairs. Before I reached the landing-place, I knew +that some one was behind me. I did not look or pause, but flew on +through the hall till I reached my own door. My own door was just +at the foot of the third-floor stairway. I glanced back, and saw +that it was Mr. Langenau who was behind me. I pushed open my door +and went half-way in the room; then with a vehement and sudden +impulse came back into the hall and pulled it shut again and stood +with my hand upon the latch, and waited for him to pass. In an +instant more he was near me, but not as if he saw me; he could not +reach the stairway without passing so near me that he must touch my +dress. I waited till he was so near, and said, "Mr. Langenau."</p> +<p>He raised his eyes steadily to mine and bowed low. I almost +choked for one instant, and then I found voice and rushed on +vehemently. "What she has told you is false; every word of it is +false. I am not engaged to Richard Vandermarck; I never thought of +such a thing till I came here, and found they talked about it. They +ought to be ashamed, and I will go away to-morrow. And what she +said about my mother is a wicked lie as well, at least in the way +she meant it; and I shall hate her all my life. I have been +motherless and lonely always, but God has cared for me, and I never +knew before what evil thoughts and ways there were. I am not +ashamed that I listened, though I didn't mean to stay at first. I'm +glad I heard it all and know what kind of friends I have. And those +last cruel words you said--I never will forgive you, +never--never--never till I die."</p> +<p>He had put his hand out toward me as if in conciliation, at +least I understood it so. I pushed it passionately away, rushed +into my room, bolted the door, and flung myself upon the bed with a +frightful burst of sobs. I heard his hand upon the latch of the +door, and he said my name several times in a low voice. Then he +went slowly up the stairs. And I think his room must have been +directly over mine, for, for hours I heard some one walking there; +indeed, it was the last sound I heard, when, having cried all my +tears and vowed all my vows, I fell asleep and forgot that I was +wretched.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII."></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<h3>SUNDAY.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote><i>La notte é madre di pensieri</i>.<br> +<br> +Now tell me how you are as to religion?<br> +You are a clear good man--but I rather fear<br> +You have not much of it.<br> +<i>Faust</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>It was all very well to talk about going away; but the matter +looked very differently by daylight. It was Sunday; and I knew I +could not go away for a day or two, and not even then without +making a horrid sort of stir, for which I had not the courage in +cold blood. Besides, I did not even know that I wanted to go if I +could. Varick-street! Hateful, hateful thought. No, I could not go +there. And though (by daylight) I still detested Mary Leighton, and +felt ashamed about Richard, and remembered all Mr. Langenau's words +(sweet as well as bitter), everything was let down a great many +degrees; from the heights of passion into the plains of +commonplace.</p> +<p>My great excitement had worked its own cure, and I was so dull +and weary that I did not even want to think of what had passed the +night before. If I had a sentiment that retained any strength, it +was that of shame and self-contempt. I could not think of myself in +any way that did not make me blush. When, however, it came to the +moment of facing every one, and going down to breakfast, I began to +know I still had some other feelings.</p> +<p>I was the last to go down. The bell had rung a very long while +before I left my room. I took my seat at the table without looking +at any one, though, of course, every one looked at me. My confused +and rather general good-morning was returned with much precision by +all. Somebody remarked that I did not look well. Somebody else +remarked that was surely because I went to bed so early; that it +never had been known to agree with any one. Some one else wanted to +know why I had gone so early, and that I had been hunted for in all +directions for a dance which had been a sudden inspiration.</p> +<p>"But as you had gone away, and the musician could not be found, +we had to give it up," said Charlotte Benson, "and we owe you both +a grudge."</p> +<p>"For my part, I am very sorry," said Mr. Langenau. "I had no +thought that you meant to dance last night, or I should have stayed +at the piano; I hope you will tell me the next time."</p> +<p>"The next time will be to-morrow evening," said Mary Leighton. +"Now, Mr. Langenau, you will not forget--or--or get excited about +anything and go away?"</p> +<p>I dared not look at Mr. Langenau's face, but I am sure I should +not have seen anything pleasant if I had. I don't know what he +answered, for I was so confused, I dropped a plate of berries which +I was just taking from Kilian's hand, and made quite an +uncomfortable commotion. The berries were very ripe, and they +rolled in many directions on the table-cloth, and fell on my white +dress.</p> +<p>"Your pretty dress is ruined, I'm afraid," said Kilian, stooping +down to save it.</p> +<p>"I don't care about that, but I'm very sorry that I've stained +the table-cloth," and I looked at Mrs. Hollenbeck as if I thought +that she would scold me for it. But she quite reassured me. Indeed, +I think she was so pleased with me, that she would not have minded +seeing me ruin all the table-cloths that she had.</p> +<p>"But it will make you late for church, for you'll have to change +your dress," said Charlotte Benson, practically, glancing at the +clock. I was very thankful for the suggestion, for I thought it +would save me from the misery of trying to eat breakfast, but +Kilian made such an outcry that I found I could not go without more +comments than I liked.</p> +<p>"You have no appetite either," said Mary Leighton. "I am ashamed +to eat as much as I want, for here is Mr. Langenau beside me, who +has only broken a roll in two and drank a cup of coffee."</p> +<p>"I am not perhaps quite used to your American way of +breakfasting," he returned quickly.</p> +<p>"But you ate breakfasts when we first came," said the sweet girl +gently.</p> +<p>"Was not the weather cooler then?" he answered, "and I have +missed my walk this morning."</p> +<p>"Let me give you some more coffee, at any rate," said Sophie, +with affectionate interest. Indeed, I think at that moment she +absolutely loved him.</p> +<p>In a few minutes I escaped from the table; when I came down from +my room ready for church, I found that they were all just starting. +(Richard, I suppose, would have waited for me.) The church was in +the village, and not ten minutes' walk from the house. Kilian was +carrying Mary Leighton's prayer-book, and was evidently intending +to walk with her.</p> +<p>Richard came up to me and said, "Sophie is waiting to know if +you will let her drive you, or if you will walk."</p> +<p>I had not yet been obliged to speak to Richard since I had heard +what people said about us, and I felt uncomfortable.</p> +<p>"Oh, let me drive if there is room," I said, without looking up. +Sophie sat in her little carriage waiting for me. Richard put me in +beside her, and then joined the others, while we drove away. Benny, +in his white Sunday clothes, sat at our feet.</p> +<p>"I think it is so much better for you to drive," said Mrs. +Hollenbeck, "for the day is warm, and I did not think you looked at +all well this morning."</p> +<p>"No," I said faintly. And she was so kind, I longed to tell her +everything. It is frightful at seventeen to have no one to tell +your troubles to.</p> +<p>At the gate Benny was just grumbling about getting out to open +it, when Mr. Langenau appeared, and held it open for us. He was +dressed in a flannel suit which he wore for walking. After he +closed the gate, he came up beside the carriage, as Mrs. Hollenbeck +very kindly invited him to do, by driving slowly.</p> +<p>"Are you coming with us to church, Mr. Langenau?" asked +Benny.</p> +<p>"To church? No, Benny. I am afraid they would not let me +in."</p> +<p>"Why, yes, they would, if you had your good clothes on," said +Benny.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau laughed, a little bitterly, and said he doubted, +even then. "I am afraid I haven't got my good conscience on either, +Benny."</p> +<p>"But the minister would never know," said Benny.</p> +<p>"That's very true; the ministers here don't know much about +peoples' consciences, I should think."</p> +<p>"Do ministers in any other places know any more?" asked Benny +with interest.</p> +<p>"Why, yes, Benny, in a good many countries where I've been, they +do."</p> +<p>"You are a Catholic, Mr. Langenau?" asked Mrs. Hollenbeck.</p> +<p>"I once was; I have no longer any right to say it is my faith," +he answered slowly.</p> +<p>"What is it to be a Catholic?" inquired Benny, gazing at his +tutor's face with wonder.</p> +<p>"To be a Catholic, is to be in a safe prison; to have been a +Catholic, is to be alone on a sea big and black with billows, +Benny."</p> +<p>"I think I'd like the prison best," said Benny, who was very +much afraid of the water.</p> +<p>"Ah, but if you couldn't get back to it, my boy."</p> +<p>"Well, I think I'd try to get to land somewhere," Benny +answered, stoutly.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau laughed, but rather gloomily, and we went on for a +few moments in silence. The road was bordered with trees, and there +was a beautiful shade. The horse was very glad to be permitted to +go slow, not being of an ambitious nature.</p> +<p>All this time I had been leaning back, holding my parasol very +close over my face. Mr. Langenau happened to be on the side by me: +once when the carriage had leaned suddenly, he had put his hand +upon it, and had touched, without intending it, my arm.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," he had said, and that was all he had said +to me; and I had felt very grateful that Benny had been so inclined +to talk. I trusted that nobody would speak to me, for my voice +would never be steady and even again, I was sure, when he was by to +listen to it.</p> +<p>Now, however, he spoke to me: commonplace words, the same almost +that every one in the house had addressed to me that morning, but +how differently they sounded.</p> +<p>"I am sorry that you are not well to-day, Miss +d'Estrée."</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck at this moment began to find some fault with +Benny's gloves, and leaning down, talked very obligingly and +earnestly with him, while she fastened the gloves upon his +hands.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau took the occasion, as it was intended he should +take it, and said rather low, "You will not refuse to see me a few +moments this evening, that I may explain something to you?"</p> +<p>I think he was disappointed that I did not answer him, only +turned away my head. But I don't know in truth what other answer he +had any right to ask. He did not attempt to speak again, but as we +turned into the village, said, "Good-morning, I must leave you. +Good-bye, Benny, since I have neither clothes nor conscience fit +for church."</p> +<p>Sophie laughed, and said, at least she hoped he would be home +for dinner. He did not promise, but raising his hat struck off into +a little path by the roadside, that led up into the woods.</p> +<p>"What a pity," said Mrs. Hollenbeck musingly, "that a man of +such fine intellect should have such vague religious faith."</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was at home for dinner, but he did not see me at +that meal, for my head ached so, and I felt so weary that when I +came up-stairs after church, it seemed impossible to go down again. +I should have been very glad to make the same excuse serve for the +remainder of the day, but really the rest and a cup of tea had so +restored me, that no excuse remained at six o'clock.</p> +<p>All families have their little Sunday habits, I have found; the +Sunday rule in this house was, to have tea at half-past six, and to +walk by the river till after the sun had set; then to come home and +have sacred music in the parlor. After tea, accordingly, we took +our shawls on our arms (it still being very warm) and walked down +toward the river.</p> +<p>I kept beside Mrs. Hollenbeck and Benny, where only I felt +safe.</p> +<p>The criticism I had heard had given me such a shock, I did not +feel that I ever could be careful enough of what I said and did. +And I vaguely felt my mother's honor would be vindicated, if I +showed myself always a modest and prudent woman.</p> +<p>"It was so well that I heard them," I kept saying to myself, but +I felt so much older and so much graver. My silence and constraint +were no doubt differently interpreted. Richard did not come up to +me, except to tell me I had better put my shawl on, as I sat on the +steps of the boat-house, with Benny beside me. The others had +walked further on and were sitting, some of them on the rocks, and +some on the boat that had been drawn up, watching the sun go +down.</p> +<p>"Tell me a story," said Benny, resting his arms on my lap, "a +story about when you were a little girl."</p> +<p>"Oh, Benny, that wouldn't make a pretty story."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, it would: all about your mamma and the house you used +to live in, and the children you used to go to see."</p> +<p>"Dear Benny! I never lived in but one old, dismal house. I never +went to play with any children. I could not make a story out of +that."</p> +<p>"But your mamma. O yes, I'm sure you could if you tried very +hard."</p> +<p>"Ah, Benny! that's the worst of all. For my mamma has been with +God and the good angels in the sky, ever since I was a little baby, +and I have had a dreary time without her here alone."</p> +<p>"Then I think you might tell me about God and the good angels," +whispered Benny, getting closer to me.</p> +<p>I wrapped my arms around him, and leaning my face down upon his +yellow curls, told him a story of God and the good angels in the +sky.</p> +<p>Dear little Benny! I always loved him from that night. He cried +over my story: that I suppose wins everybody's heart: and we went +together, looking at the placid river and the pale blue firmament, +very far into the paradise of faith. My tears dropped upon his +upturned face; and when the stars came out, and we were told it was +time to go back to the house, we went back hand in hand, firm +friends for all life from that Sunday night.</p> +<p>"There is Mr. Langenau," said Benny; "waiting for you, I should +think."</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was waiting for me at the piazza steps. He fixed +his eyes on mine as if waiting for my permission to speak again. +But I fastened my eyes upon the ground, and holding Benny tightly +by the hand, went on into the house.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX."></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<h3>A DANCE.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote><b>It</b> is impossible to love and to be wise.<br> +<br> +<i>Bacon</i>.<br> +<br> +Niente piu tosto se secca che lagrime.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>"This is what we must do about it," said Kilian, as we sat +around the breakfast-table. "If you are still in a humor for the +dance to-night, I will order Tom and Jerry to be brought up at +once, and Miss Pauline and I will go out and deliver all the +invitations."</p> +<p>"Of which there are about five," said Charlotte Benson. "You can +spare Tom and Jerry and send a small boy."</p> +<p>"But what if I had rather go myself?" he said, "and Miss Pauline +needs the air. Now there are--let me see," and he began to count up +the dancing inhabitants of the neighborhood.</p> +<p>"Will you write notes or shall we leave a verbal message at each +door?"</p> +<p>"Oh leave a verbal message by all means," said Charlotte Benson, +a little sharply. "It won't be quite <i>en règle</i>, as +Miss d'Estrée doesn't know the people, but so unconventional +and fresh."</p> +<p>"I do know them," I retorted, much annoyed, "conventionally at +least: for they have all called upon me, though I didn't see them +all. But I shall be very glad if you will take my place."</p> +<p>"Oh, thank you; I wasn't moving an amendment for that end. We +have made our arrangements for the morning, irrespective of the +delivery of cards."</p> +<p>"I shall have time to write the notes first, if Sophie would +rather have notes sent," said Henrietta, who wrote a good hand and +was very fond of writing people's notes for them.</p> +<p>"Oh, thank you, dear; yes, perhaps it would be best, and save +Pauline and Kilian trouble."</p> +<p>So Henrietta went grandly away to write her little notes: a very +large ship on a very small voyage.</p> +<p>"And how about your music, Sophie," said Kilian, who was anxious +to have all business matters settled relating to the evening.</p> +<p>"Well, I suppose you had better go for the music-teacher from +the village; he plays very well for dancing, and it is a mercy to +me and to poor Henrietta, who would have to be pinned to the piano +for the evening, if we didn't have him."</p> +<p>"As to that, I thought we had a music-teacher of our own: can't +your German be made of any practical account? Or is he only to be +looked at and revered for his great powers?"</p> +<p>"I didn't engage Mr. Langenau to play for us to dance," said +Sophie.</p> +<p>"Nor to lounge about the parlor every evening either," muttered +Kilian, pushing away his cup of coffee.</p> +<p>"Now, Mr. Kilian, pray don't let our admiration of the tutor +drive you into any bitterness of feeling," cried Charlotte Benson, +who had been treasuring up a store of little slights from Kilian. +"You know he can't be blamed for it, poor man."</p> +<p>Kilian was so much annoyed that he did not trust himself to +answer, but rose from the table, and asked me if I would drive with +him in half an hour.</p> +<p>During the drive, he exclaimed angrily that Charlotte Benson had +a tongue that would drive a man to suicide if he came in hearing of +it daily. "Why, if she were as beautiful as a goddess, I could +never love her. Depend upon it, she'll never get a husband, Miss +Pauline."</p> +<p>"Some men like to be scolded, I have heard," I said.</p> +<p>"Well then, if you ever stumble upon one that does, just call me +and I'll run and fetch him Charlotte Benson."</p> +<p>The morning was lovely, and I had much pleasure in the drive, +though I had not gone with any idea of enjoying it. It was very +exhilarating to drive so fast as Kilian always drove; and Kilian +himself always amused me and made me feel at ease. We were very +companionable; and though I could not understand how young ladies +could make a hero of him, and fancy that they loved him, I could +quite understand how they should find him delightful and +amusing.</p> +<p>We delivered our notes, at more than one place, into the hands +of those to whom they were addressed, and had many pleasant talks +at the piazza steps with young ladies whom I had not known before. +Then we went to the village and engaged the music-teacher, stopped +at the "store" and left some orders, and drove to the Post-Office +to see if there were letters.</p> +<p>"Haven't we had a nice morning!" I exclaimed simply, as we drove +up to the gate.</p> +<p>"Capital," said Kilian. "I'm afraid it's been the best part of +the day. I wish I had any assurance that the German would be half +as pleasant. I beg your pardon, I don't mean your surly Teuton, but +the dance that we propose to-night; I wish it had another name. +Confound it! there he is ahead of us. (I don't mean the dance this +time, you see.) I wish he'd turn back and open the gate for us. +Holloa there!"</p> +<p>Kilian would not have dared call out, if the boys had not been +with their tutor. It was one o'clock, and they were coming from the +farm-house back to dinner. At the call they all turned; Mr. +Langenau stood still, and told Charles to go back and open the +gate.</p> +<p>Kilian frowned; he didn't like to see his nephew ordered to do +anything by this unpleasant German. While we were waiting for the +opening of the gate, the tutor walked on toward the house with +Benny. As we passed them, Benny called out, "Stop, Uncle Kilian, +stop, and take me in." Benny never was denied anything, so we +stopped and Mr. Langenau lifted him up in front of us. He bowed +without speaking, and Benny was the orator of the occasion.</p> +<p>"You looked as if you were having such a nice time, I thought +I'd like to come."</p> +<p>"Well, we were," said Kilian, with a laugh, and then we drove on +rapidly.</p> +<p>At the tea-table Mr. Langenau said to Sophie as he rose to go +away: "Mrs. Hollenbeck, if there is any service I can render you +this evening at the piano, I shall be very glad if you will let me +know."</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck thanked him with cordiality, but told him of the +provision that had been made.</p> +<p>"But you will dance, Mr. Langenau," cried Mary Leighton, "we +need dancing-men terribly, you know. Promise me you'll dance."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Charlotte Benson, "he has promised me." Mr. Langenau +bowed low; he got wonderfully through these awkward situations. As +he left the room Kilian said in a tone loud enough for us, but not +for him, to hear, "The Lowders have a nice young gardener; hadn't +we better send to see if he can't come this evening?"</p> +<p>"Kilian, that's going a little too far," said Richard in a +displeased manner; "as long as the boys' tutor conducts himself +like a gentleman, he deserves to be treated like a gentleman."</p> +<p>"Ah, Paterfamilias, thank you. Yes, I'll think of it," and +Kilian proposed that we should leave the table, as we all seemed to +have appeased our appetites and nothing but civil war could come of +staying any longer.</p> +<p>It was understood we had not much time to dress: but when I came +down-stairs, none of the others had appeared. Richard met me in the +hall: he had been rather stern to me all day, but his manner quite +softened as he stood beside me under the hall-lamp. That was the +result of my lovely white mull, with its mint of Valenciennes.</p> +<p>"You haven't any flowers," he said. Heavens! who'd have thought +he'd ever have spoken in such a tone again, after the cup of tea I +poured out for the tutor. "Let's go and see if we can't find some +in these vases that are fit, for I suppose the garden's +robbed."</p> +<p>"Yes," I said, following him, quite pleased. For I could not +bear to have him angry with me. I was really fond of him, dear, old +Richard; and I looked so happy that I have no doubt he thought more +of it than he ought. He pulled all the pretty vases in the parlor +to pieces: (Charlotte and Henrietta and his sister had arranged +them with such care!) and made me a bouquet of ferns, and +tea-roses, and lovely, lovely heliotrope. I begged him to stop, but +he went on till the flowers were all arranged and tied together, +and no one came down-stairs till the spoilage was complete.</p> +<p>All this time Mr. Langenau was in the library--restless, +pretending to read a book. I saw him as we passed the door, but did +not look again. Presently we heard the sound of wheels.</p> +<p>"There," said Richard, feeling the weight of hospitality upon +him, "Sophie isn't down. How like her!"</p> +<p>But at the last moment, to save appearances, Sophie came down +the stairs and went into the parlor: indolent, favored Sophie, who +always came out right when things looked most against it.</p> +<p>In a little while the empty rooms were peopled. Dress improved +the young ladies of the house very much, and the young ladies who +came were some of them quite pretty: The gentlemen seemed to me +very tiresome and not at all good-looking. Richard was quite a king +among them, with his square shoulders, and his tawny moustache, and +his blue eyes.</p> +<p>There were not quite gentlemen enough, and Mrs. Hollenbeck +fluttered into the library to hunt up Mr. Langenau, and he +presently came out with her. He was dressed with more care than +usual, and suitably for evening: he had the <i>vive</i> attentive +manner that is such a contrast to most young men in this country: +everybody looked at him and wondered who he was. The music-teacher +was playing vigorously, and so, before the German was arranged, +several impetuous souls flew away in waltzes up and down the room. +The parlor was a very large room. It had originally been two rooms, +but had been thrown into one, as some pillars and a slight arch +testified. The ceiling was rather low, but the many windows which +opened on the piazza, and the unusual size of the room, made it +very pretty for a dance. Mary Leighton and the tutor were dancing; +somebody was talking to me, but I only saw that.</p> +<p>"How well he dances," I heard some one exclaim.</p> +<p>I'm afraid it must have been Richard whom I forgot to answer +just before: for I saw him twist his yellow moustache into his +mouth and bite it; a bad sign with him.</p> +<p>Kilian was to lead with Mary Leighton, and he came up to where +we stood, and said to Richard, "I suppose you have Miss Pauline for +your partner?"</p> +<p>Now I had been very unhappy for some time, dreading the moment, +but there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. So I said, "I +hope you are not counting upon me for dancing? You know I cannot +dance!"</p> +<p>"Not dance!" cried Kilian, in amazement; "why, I never dreamed +of that."</p> +<p>"You don't like it, Pauline?" said Richard, looking at me.</p> +<p>"Like it!" I said, impatiently. "Why, I don't know how; who did +I ever have to dance with in Varick-street? Ann Coddle or old +Peter? And Uncle Leonard never thought of such a thing as sending +me to school."</p> +<p>"Why didn't you tell me before, and we wouldn't have bothered +about this stupid dance," said Kilian; but I think he didn't mean +it, for he enjoyed dancing very much.</p> +<p>Richard had to go away, for though he hated it, he was needed, +as they had not gentlemen enough.</p> +<p>The one or two persons who had been introduced to me, on going +to join the dance, also expressed regret. Even Mrs. Hollenbeck came +up, and said how sorry she was: she had supposed I danced.</p> +<p>But they all went away, and I was left by one of the furthest +windows with a tiresome old man, who didn't dance either, because +his legs weren't strong enough, and who talked and talked till I +asked him not to; which he didn't seem to like. But to have to +talk, with the noise of the music, and the stir, of the dancing, +and the whirl that is always going on in such a room, is penance. I +told him it made my head ache, and besides I couldn't hear, and so +at last he went away, and I was left alone.</p> +<p>Sometimes in pauses of the dance Richard came up to me, and +sometimes Kilian; but it had the effect of making me more +uncomfortable, for it made everybody turn and look at me. Bye and +bye I stole away and went on the piazza, and looked in where no one +could see me. I could not go away entirely, for I was fascinated by +the dance. I longed so to be dancing, and had such bitter feelings +because I never had been taught. After I left the room, I could see +Richard was uncomfortable; he looked often at the door, and was not +very attentive to his partner. No one else seemed to miss me. Mr. +Langenau talked constantly to Miss Lowder, with whom he had been +dancing, and never looked once toward where I had been sitting. A +long time after, when they had been dancing--hours it seemed to +me--Miss Lowder seemed to feel faint or tired, and Mr. Langenau +came out with her, and took her up-stairs to the dressing-room.</p> +<p>Ashamed to be seen looking in at the window, I ran into the +library and sat down. There was a student's lamp upon the table, +but the room had no other light. I sat leaning back in a large +chair by the table, with my bouquet in my lap, buttoning and +unbuttoning absently my long white gloves. In a moment I heard Mr. +Langenau come down-stairs alone: he had left Miss Lowder in the +dressing-room to rest there: he came directly toward the +library.</p> +<p>He came half-way in the door, then paused. "May I speak to you?" +he said slowly, fixing his eyes on mine. "I seem to be the only one +who is forbidden, of those who have offended you and of those who +have not."</p> +<p>"No one has said what you have," I said very faintly.</p> +<p>In an instant he was standing beside me, with one hand resting +on the table.</p> +<p>"Will you listen to me," he said, bending a little toward me and +speaking in a quick, low voice, "I did say what you have a right to +resent; but I said it in a moment when I was not master of my +words. I had just heard something that made me doubt my senses: and +my only thought was how to save myself, and not to show how I was +staggered by it. I am a proud man, and it is hard to tell you +this--but I cannot bear this coldness from you--and <i>I ask you to +forgive me</i>"</p> +<p>His eyes, his voice, had all their unconquerable influence upon +me. I bent over Richard's poor flowers, and pulled them to pieces +while I tried to speak. There was a silence, during which he must +have heard the loud beating of my heart, I think: at last he spoke +again in a lower voice, "Will you not be kind, and say that we are +friends once more?"</p> +<p>I said something that was inaudible to him, and he stooped a +little nearer me to catch it. I made a great effort and commanded +my voice and said, very low? but with an attempt to speak lightly, +"You have not made it any better, but I will forget it."</p> +<p>He caught my hand for one instant, then let it go as suddenly. +And neither of us could speak.</p> +<p>There is no position more false and trying than a woman's, when +she is told in this way that a man loves her, and yet has not been +told it; when she must seem not to see what she would be an idiot +not to see; when he can say what he pleases and she must seem to +hear only so much. I did no better and no worse than most women of +my years would have done. At last the silence (which did not seem a +silence to me, it was so full of new and conflicting thoughts,) was +broken by the recommencement of the music in the other room. He had +taken a book in his hands and was turning over its pages +restlessly.</p> +<p>"Why have you not danced?" he said at last, in a voice that +still showed agitation.</p> +<p>"I have not danced because I can't, because I never have been +taught."</p> +<p>"You? not taught? it seems incredible. But let me teach you. +Will you? Teach you! you would dance by intention. And would love +it--madly--as I did years ago. Come with me, will you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no," I said, half frightened, shrinking back, "I am not +going to dance--ever."</p> +<p>"Perhaps that is as well," he said in a low tone, meeting my eye +for an instant, and telling me by that sudden brilliant gleam from +his, that then he would be spared the pain of ever seeing me +dancing with another.</p> +<p>"But let me teach you something," he said after a moment. "Let +me teach you German--will you?" He sank down in a chair by the +table, and leaning forward, repeated his question eagerly.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, I should like it so much--if--."</p> +<p>"If--if what? If it could be arranged without frightening and +embarrassing you, you mean?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"I wonder if you are not more afraid of being frightened and +embarrassed than of any other earthly trial. There are worse things +that come to us, Miss d'Estrée. But I will arrange about the +German, and you need have no terror. How will I arrange? No +matter--when Mrs. Hollenbeck asks you to join a class in German, +you will join it, will you not?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> +<p>"You promise?"</p> +<p>"Oh, anything."</p> +<p>"Anything? take care. I may fill up a check for thousands, if +you give a blank."</p> +<p>"I didn't give a blank; anything about German's what I +meant."</p> +<p>"Ah, that's safer, but not half so generous. And yet you're one +who might be generous, I think."</p> +<p>"But tell me about the German class."</p> +<p>"I've nothing to tell you about it," he answered, "only that +you've promised to learn."</p> +<p>"But where are we to say our lessons, and what books are we to +Study?"</p> +<p>"Would you like to say a lesson now and get one step in advance +of all the others?"</p> +<p>"O yes! I shall need at least as much grace as that."</p> +<p>"Then say this after me: '<b>Ich will Alles lernen, was Sie mich +lehren</b>.' Begin. '<b>Ich will Alles lernen</b>'--"</p> +<p>"'<b>Ich will Alles lernen</b>'--but what does it mean?"</p> +<p>"Oh, that is not important. Learn it first. Can you not trust +me? '<b>Ich will Alles lernen, was Sie mich lehren.</b>'"</p> +<p>"'<b>Ich will Alles lernen</b>'--ah, you look as if my +pronunciation were not good."</p> +<p>"I was not thinking of that; you pronounce very well. '<b>Ich +will Alles lernen</b>--'"</p> +<p>"<b>Ich will Alles lernen, was Sie mich lehren</b>:--there +<i>now</i>, tell me what it means."</p> +<p>"Not until you learn it; <i>encore une fois</i>."</p> +<p>I said it after him again and again, but when I attempted it +alone, I made invariably some error.</p> +<p>"Let me write it for you," he said, and pulling a book from his +pocket, tore out a leaf and wrote the sentence on it. "There--keep +the paper and study it, and say it to me in the morning."</p> +<p>I have the paper still; long years have passed: it is only a +crumpled little yellow fragment; but the world would be poorer and +emptier to me if it were destroyed.</p> +<p>I had quite mastered the sentence, saying it after him word for +word, and held the slip of paper in my hand, when I heard steps in +the hall. I knew Richard's step very well, and gave a little start. +Mr. Langenau frowned, and his manner changed, as I half rose from +my seat, and as quickly sank back in it again.</p> +<p>"Is it that you lack courage?" he said, looking at me +keenly.</p> +<p>"I don't know what I lack," I cried, bending down my head to +hide my flushed face; "but I hate to be scolded and have +scenes."</p> +<p>"But who has a right to scold you and to make a scene?"</p> +<p>"Nobody: only everybody does it all the same."</p> +<p>"Everybody, I suppose, means Mr. Richard Vandermarck, who is +frowning at you this moment from the hall."</p> +<p>"And it means you--who are frowning at me this moment from your +seat."</p> +<p>All this time Richard had been standing in the hall; but now he +walked slowly away. I felt sure he had given me up. The people +began to come out of the parlor, and I felt ready to cry with +vexation, when I thought that they would again be talking about me. +It was true, I am afraid, that I lacked courage.</p> +<p>"You want me to go away?" he said, fixing his eyes intently on +me.</p> +<p>"O yes, if you only would," I said naïvely.</p> +<p>He looked so white and angry when he rose, that I sprang up and +put out my hand to stop him, and said hurriedly, "I only +meant--that is--I should think you would understand without my +telling you. A woman cannot bear to have people talk about her, and +know who she likes and who she doesn't. It kills me to have people +talk about me. I'm not used to society--I don't know what is +right--but I don't think--I am afraid--I ought not to have stayed +in here and talked to you away from all the others. It's that that +makes me so uncomfortable. That, and Richard too. For I know he +doesn't like to have me pleased with any one. Do not go away angry +with me. I don't see why you do not understand."</p> +<p>My incoherent little speech had brought him to his senses.</p> +<p>"I am not going away angry," he said in a low voice, "I will +promise not to speak to you again to-night. Only remember that I +have feelings as well as Mr. Richard Vandermarck."</p> +<p>In a moment more I was alone. Richard did not come near me, nor +seem to notice me, as he passed through the hall. Presently Mr. +Eugene Whitney came in, and I was very glad to see him.</p> +<p>"Won't you take me to walk on the piazza?" I asked, for +everybody else was walking there. He was only too happy; and so the +evening ended commonplace enough.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X."></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<h3>EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>She wanted years to understand<br> +The grief that he did feel.<br> +<br> +<i>Surrey</i>.<br> +<br> +Love is not love<br> +That alters where it alteration finds.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>This was how the German class was formed.</p> +<p>The next day, as we were leaving the dinner-table, Mr. Langenau +paused a few moments by Sophie, in the hall, and talked with her +about the boys.</p> +<p>"Charley gets on very well with his German," he observed, "but +Benny doesn't make much progress. He is too young to study much, +and acquires chiefly by the ear. If you only had a German maid, or +if you could speak with him yourself, he would make much better +progress."</p> +<p>"Yes, I wish I had more knowledge of the language," she replied; +"I read it very easily, but cannot speak with any fluency."</p> +<p>"Why will you never speak it with me?" he said. "And if you will +permit me, I shall be very glad to read with you an hour a day. I +have much leisure, and it would be no task to me."</p> +<p>"I should like it very much, and you are very kind. But it is so +hard to find an hour unoccupied, particularly with so many people +in the house, whom I ought to entertain."</p> +<p>"That is very true, unless you can make it a source of +entertainment to them. Miss Benson--is she not a German scholar? +She might like to join you."</p> +<p>Then, I think, the clever Sophie's mind was illuminated, and the +tutor's little scheme was revealed to her clear eye; she embraced +it with effusion. "An admirable idea," she said, "and the others, +too, perhaps, would join us if you would not mind. It would be one +hour a day at least secure from <i>ennui:</i> I shall have great +cause to thank you, if we can arrange it. For these girls get so +tired of doing nothing; my mind is always on the strain to think of +an amusement. Charlotte! Come here, I want to ask you +something."</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson came, and with her came Henrietta. I was +sitting on the sofa between the parlor-doors, and could not help +hearing the whole conversation, as they were standing immediately +before me.</p> +<p>"Mr. Langenau proposes to us to read an hour a day with him in +German. What do you think about it?"</p> +<p>"Charming," said Charlotte with enthusiasm. "I cannot think of +anything that would give me greater pleasure. Henrietta and I have +read in German together for two winters, and it will be enchanting +to continue it with such a master as Mr. Langenau."</p> +<p>Henrietta murmured her satisfaction, and then Charlotte rushed +into plans for the course, leaving me in despair, supposing I had +been forgotten. What place I was to find in such advanced society I +could not well imagine.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau never turned his head in my direction, and talked +with Miss Benson with so much earnestness about the books into +which they were to plunge, that I could not convince myself that +all this was undertaken solely that he might teach me German. In a +little while they seemed to have settled it all to their +satisfaction, and he had turned to go away. My heart was in my +throat. Mrs. Hollenbeck had not forgotten me. She said something +low to Mr. Langenau.</p> +<p>"Ah, true!" he said. "But does she know anything of German?" +Then turning to me he said, with one of his dazzling sudden +glances, "Miss d'Estrée, we are talking of making up a +German class; do you understand the language?"</p> +<p>"No," I said, meeting his eye for a moment, "I have only taken +one lesson in my life," and then blushed scarlet at my own +audacity.</p> +<p>"Ah," said he, as if quite sorry for the disappointment, "I wish +you were advanced enough to join us."</p> +<p>Then Charlotte Benson, quite ignoring the interruption, began to +ask him about a book that she wanted very much to find. Mr. +Langenau had it in his room--a most happy accident, and there was a +great deal said about it. I again was left in doubt of my fate. +Again Sophie interposed. "We have forgotten Mary Leighton," she +said, gently.</p> +<p>"Does Miss Leighton know anything of German?"</p> +<p>"Not a thing," said Henrietta.</p> +<p>"What does she know anything of, but flirting?" said Charlotte +with asperity, glancing out into the grounds where Kilian was +murmuring softest folly to her under her pongee parasol.</p> +<p>"Perhaps she'd like to learn," suggested Sophie. "She and +Pauline might begin together; that is, if Mr. Langenau would not +think it too much trouble to give them an occasional suggestion. +And you, Charlotte, I am sure, could help them a great deal."</p> +<p>Charlotte made no disguise of her disinclination to undertake to +help them.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau expressed his willingness so unenthusiastically, +that I think Mrs. Hollenbeck was staggered. I saw her glance +anxiously at him, as if to know what really he might mean. She +concluded to interpret according to the context, however, and went +on.</p> +<p>"But it will be so much better for all to undertake it, if one +does. Suppose they try and see how it will work, either before or +after our lesson."</p> +<p>"<i>De tout mon coeur</i>," said Mr. Langenau, as if, however, +his <i>coeur</i> had very little interest in the matter.</p> +<p>"Well, about the hour?" said Charlotte, the woman of business; +"we haven't settled that after all our talking."</p> +<p>There was a great deal more, oh, a great deal more, and then it +was settled that five in the afternoon should be considered the +German hour--subject to alteration as circumstances should +arise.</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck very discreetly ordered that a beginning should +not be made till the next day but one. "The gentlemen will all be +here to-morrow, and there may be something else going on." I knew +very well she was afraid of Richard, and thought he would not +approve her zeal for our improvement.</p> +<p>The first lesson was very dull work for me. It was agreed that +Mary Leighton and I should take our lesson after the others, +sitting beside them, however, for the benefit of such crumbs of +information as might fall to us.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau took no special notice of me then, and very little +that was flattering when Mary Leighton and I began our lesson +proper. Mrs. Hollenbeck, Charlotte, and Henrietta took up their +books and left, when the infant class was called. I do not think +Mr. Langenau took great pains to make the study of the German +tongue of interest to Miss Leighton. She was unspeakably bored, and +never even learned the alphabet. She was very much unused to mental +application, undoubtedly, and was annoyed at appearing dull. There +was but one door open to her; to vote German a bore, and give up +the class. She made her exit by that door on the occasion of the +second lesson, and Mr. Langenau and I were left to pursue our +studies undisturbed. The rendezvous was the piazza in fine weather, +and the library when it was damp or cloudy. The fidelity with which +the senior Germans gathered up their books and left, when their +hour was over, was mainly due to the kind thoughtfulness of Mrs. +Hollenbeck, who was always prompt, and always found some excuse for +carrying away Charlotte and Henrietta with her when she went.</p> +<p>It can be imagined what those hours were to me, those soft, +golden afternoons. Sometimes we took our books and went out under +the trees to some shaded seats, and sat there till the maid came +out to call us in to tea. Happy, happy hours in dreamland! But what +peril to me, and perhaps to him. It is vain to go over it all: it +is enough that of all the happy days, that hour from six o'clock +till tea-time was the happiest: and that with strange smoothness, +day after day passed on without bringing interruption to it. At six +the others went to ride or walk; I was never called, and did not +even wonder at it.</p> +<p>All this time Richard had been going every day to town and +coming back by the evening train. It was pretty tiresome work, and +he looked rather pale and worn; but I believe he could not stay +away. I sometimes felt a little sorry when I saw how much he was +out of spirits, but I was in such a happy realm myself, it did not +depress me long: in truth, I forgot it when he was not actually +before me, and sometimes even then. "I do not think you are +listening to what I say," he said to me one night as he sat by me +in the parlor. I blushed desperately, and tried to listen better. +Ah! how often it happened after that. I blush again to think how +much I pained him, and how silently he bore it all.</p> +<p>The last days of July were very busy ones in the Wall-street +office, and Richard did not give himself a holiday, till one +Saturday, much to be remembered, the very last day of the month. I +recall with penitence, the impatient feeling that I had when +Richard told me he was going to take the day at home. I felt +intuitively that it would spoil it all for me. After breakfast, we +all played croquet, and then I shut myself into my room with my +German books, and selfishly saw no one till dinner. At dinner I was +excited and half frightened, as I always was when Mr. Langenau and +Richard were both present, and both watching me; it was impossible +to please either.</p> +<p>Something was said about the afternoon, and Richard (who all +this time knew nothing of the German class) said to me, evidently +afraid of some other engagement being entered on, "I hope you will +drive with me, Pauline, at five. I ordered the horses when I was +down at the stables; I think the afternoon is going to be fine." It +was rather a public way of asking one out of so many to go and take +a drive; but in truth, Richard was too honest and straightforward +to care who knew what he was in pursuit of, and too sore at heart +and too indifferent an actor to conceal it if he had desired. But +the invitation struck me with such consternation. At five o'clock! +The flower and consummation of the day! The hour that I had been +looking forward to, since seven the day before. I could not lose +it. I would not go to drive. I hated Richard. I hated going to +drive. I grew very brave, and was on the point of saying that I +could not go, when I caught Sophie's eye. She made me a quick sign, +which I dared not disobey. I blushed crimson, and did not lift my +eyes again, but said in a low voice that I would go. Then my heart +seemed to turn to lead, and all the glory and pleasure of the day +was gone. It seemed to me of such vast importance, of such endless +duration, this penance that I was to undergo. O lovers! Foolish, +foolish men and women! I was like a child balked of its holiday; I +wanted to cry--I longed to get away by myself. I did not dare to +look at any one.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau excused himself, and left the table before the +others went away. As we were leaving the table, Sophie, passing +close by me, said quite low, "I would not say anything about the +German class, Pauline. And it was a great deal better that you +should go; you know Richard has not many holidays."</p> +<p>"Yes, but you don't give up all your pleasures for him," I +thought, but did not say.</p> +<p>I went quickly to my room, and saw no one till I came +down-stairs at five o'clock. I had on a veil, for my face was +rather flushed, and my eyes somewhat the worse for crying. Richard +was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, and accompanied me +silently to the wagon, which stood at the door. As we passed the +parlor I could see, on the east piazza, Mr. Langenau and Charlotte +already at their books. Both were so engrossed that they did not +look up as we went through the hall. For that, Richard, poor +fellow! had to suffer. I was too unreasonable to comprehend that +Mr. Langenau's absorbed manner was a covering for his pique. It was +enough torture to have to lose my lesson, without seeing him +engrossed with some one else, whose fate was happier than mine. +Perhaps, after all, he was fascinated by Charlotte Benson. She was +bright, clever, and understood him so well. She admired him so +much. She was, I was sure, half in love with him. (The day before I +had concluded she liked Richard very much.) That was a very +disagreeable drive. I complained of the heat. The sun hurt my +eyes.</p> +<p>"We can go back, if you desire it," said Richard, with a shade +of sternness in his voice, stopping the horses suddenly, after two +miles of what would have been ill-temper if we had been married, +but was now perhaps only petulance.</p> +<p>"I don't desire it," I said, quite frightened, "but I do wish we +could go a little faster till we get into the shade."</p> +<p>After that, there was naturally very little pleasure in +conversation. I felt angry with Richard and ashamed of myself. For +him, I am afraid his feelings were very bitter, and his silence the +cover of a sore heart. We had started to take a certain drive; we +both wished it over, I suppose, but both lacked courage to shorten +it, or go home before we were expected. There was a brilliant +sunset, but I am sure we did not see it: then the clouds gathered +and the twilight came on, and we were nearly home.</p> +<p>"Pauline," said Richard, hoarsely, not looking at me, and +insensibly slackening the hold he had upon the reins; "will you let +me say something to you? I want to give you some advice, if you +will listen to me."</p> +<p>"I don't want anybody to advise me," I said in alarm, "and I +don't know what right you have to expect me to listen to you, +Richard, unless it is that I am your guest; and I shouldn't think +that was any reason why I should be made to listen to what isn't +pleasant to me."</p> +<p>The horses started forward, from the sudden emphasis of +Richard's pull upon the reins; and that was all the answer that I +had to my most unjustifiable words. Not a syllable was spoken after +that; and in a few moments we were at the house. Richard silently +handed me out; if I had been thinking about him I should have been +frightened at the expression of his face, but I was not: I was only +thinking--that we were at home, and that I was going to have the +happiness of meeting Mr. Langenau.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI."></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<h3>SOPHIE'S WORK.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>A nature half transformed, with qualities<br> +That oft betrayed each other, elements<br> +Not blent, but struggling, breeding strange effects<br> +Passing the reckoning of his friends or foes.<br> +<br> +<i>George Eliot</i>.<br> +<br> +High minds of native pride and force<br> +Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse!<br> +Fear for their scourge, mean villains have,<br> +Thou art the torturer of the brave.<br> +<br> +<i>Scott</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>This was what Sophie had done: she had invoked forces that she +could not control, and she felt, as people are apt to feel when +they watch their monster growing into strength, a little frightened +and a little sorry. No doubt it had seemed to her a very small +thing, to favor the folly of a girl of seventeen, fascinated by the +voice and manner of a nameless stranger; it was a folly most +manifest, but she had nothing to do with it, and was not +responsible; a very small thing to allow, and to encourage what, +doubtless, she flattered herself, her discouragement could not have +subdued. It was very natural that she should not wish Richard to +many any one; she was not more selfish than most sisters are. Most +sisters do not like to give their brothers up. She would have to +give up her home (one of her homes, that is,) as well. She did not +think Richard's choice a wise one: she was not subject to the +fascination of outline and coloring that had subjugated him, and +she felt sincerely that she was the best judge. If Richard must +marry (though in thinking of her own married life, she could not +help wondering why he must), let him marry a woman who had fortune, +or position, or talent. Of course there was a chance that this one +might have money, but that would be according to the caprice of a +selfish old man, who had never been known to show any affection for +her.</p> +<p>But money was not what Richard wanted: his sister knew much +better what Richard wanted, than he knew himself. He wanted a +clever woman, a woman who would keep him before the world and rouse +him into a little ambition about what people thought of him. Sophie +was disappointed and a little frightened when she found that +Richard did not give up the outline and coloring pleasantly. She +had thought he would be disillusionized, when he found he was +thrown over for a German tutor, who could sing. She had not counted +upon seeing him look ill and worn, and finding him stern and silent +to her; to her, of whom he had always been so fond. She found he +was taking the matter very seriously, and she almost wished that +she had not meddled with the matter.</p> +<p>And this German tutor--who could sing--well, it was strange, but +he was the worst feature of her Frankenstein, and the one at which +she felt most sorry and most frightened. Richard was very bad, to +be sure, but he would no doubt get over it: and if it all came out +well, she would be the gainer. As to "this girl for whom his heart +was sick," she had no manner of patience with her or pity for +her.</p> +<p>"She must suffer: so do all;" she would undoubtedly have a hard +future, no matter to which of these men who were so absurd about +her, Fate finally accorded her: hard, if she married Richard +without loving him (nobody knew better than Sophie how hard that +sort of marriage was); hard, if she married the German, to suffer a +lifetime of poverty and ill-temper and jealous fury. But about all +that, Sophie did not care a straw. She knew how much women could +live through, and it seemed to be their business to be +wretched.</p> +<p>But this man! And she could not gain anything by what he +suffered, with his dangerous nature, his ungovernable jealousy, his +possibly involved and unknown antecedents; what was to become of +him, in case he could not have this girl of whom six weeks ago he +had not heard? A pretty candidate to present to "mon oncle" of the +Wall-street office, for the hand of the young lady trusted to their +hospitality--a very pretty candidate--a German tutor--who could +sing. If he took her, it was to be feared he would have to take her +without more dowry than some very heavy imprecations. But could he +take her, even thus? Sophie had some very strange misgivings. This +man was desperately unhappy: was suffering frightfully: it made her +heart ache to see the haggard lines deepening on his face, to see +his colorless lips and restless eyes. She was sorry for him, as a +woman is apt to be sorry for a fascinating man. And then she was +frightened, for he was "no carpet knight so trim," to whom cognac, +and cigars, and time would be a balm: this man was essentially +dramatic, a dangerous character, an article with which she was +unfamiliar. He was frantic about this silly girl: that was plain to +see. Why then was he so wretched, seeing she was as irrationally in +love with him?</p> +<p>"If it only comes out right," she sighed distrustfully many +times a day. She resolved never to interfere with anything again, +but it came rather late, seeing she probably had done the greatest +mischief that she ever would be permitted to have a hand in while +she lived. She made up her mind not to think anything about it, +but, unfortunately for that plan, she could not get out of sight of +her work. If she had been a man, she would probably have gone to +the Adirondacks. But being a woman she had to stay at home, and sit +down among the tangled skeins which she had not skill to +straighten.</p> +<p>"If it only comes out right," she sighed again, the evening of +that most uncomfortable drive, "If it only comes out right." But it +did not look much like it.</p> +<p>I had gone directly in to tea, and so had Richard. Richard's +face silenced and depressed everybody at the table; and Mr. +Langenau did not come.</p> +<p>"There is going to be a terrible shower," said some one, and +before the sentence was ended, there was a vivid flash of lightning +that made the candles pale.</p> +<p>"How rapidly it has come up," said Sophie. "Was the sky black +when you came in, Richard?"</p> +<p>"I do not know," said Richard, and nobody doubted that he told +the truth.</p> +<p>"It had begun to darken before we came up from the river." said +Charlotte Benson. "The clouds were rising rapidly as we came in. It +will be a fearful tempest."</p> +<p>"Are the windows all shut?" said Sophie to the servant.</p> +<p>"I should think so," exclaimed Kilian. "The heat is horrid."</p> +<p>"Yes, it is suffocating," said Richard, getting up.</p> +<p>As he went out of the dining-room, some one, I think Henrietta, +said, "Well, I hope Mr. Langenau will get in safely; he was out on +the river when we were on the hill."</p> +<p>The storm was so sudden and so furious that everybody was +concerned at hearing this; even Kilian made some exclamation of +alarm.</p> +<p>"Does he know anything about a boat?" he asked of Richard, who +had paused in the doorway, hearing what was said.</p> +<p>"I have no idea," said Richard, shortly, but he did not go +away.</p> +<p>"It isn't the sail-boat that he has, of course," said Kilian, +thoughtfully. "He always goes out to row, I believe."</p> +<p>"Why, no," said Charlotte Benson, "he's in the sail-boat; don't +you remember saying, Henrietta, how bright the gleam of the sunset +was on the sail, and all the water was so dark?"</p> +<p>Kilian came to his feet very suddenly at these words.</p> +<p>"That's a bad business," he said quickly to his brother. "I've +no idea he can manage her in such a squall."</p> +<p>Sophie gave a little scream, and Charlotte and Henrietta both +grew very pale, as a frightful shock of thunder followed. The wind +was furious, and the unfastened shutters in various parts of the +house sounded like so many reports of pistols, and in an instant +the whole force of the rain fell suddenly and at once upon the +windows. Somewhere some glass was shattered, and all these sounds +added to the sense of danger, and the darkness was so great and so +sudden, that it was difficult to realize that half an hour before, +the sunset could have whitened the sails of a boat upon the +river.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid it's too late to do much now," said Kilian, stopping +in front of his brother in the doorway.</p> +<p>"What's the use of talking in that way," returned Richard in a +hoarse, low voice. "If you hav'nt more sense than to talk so before +women, you can stay at home with them," he continued, striding +across the hall, and picking up a lantern that stood in a corner +near the door. Charlotte Benson caught up one of the candles from +the table, and ran to him and lit the lamp within the lantern. +Sophie threw a cloak over Kilian's shoulders, and Henrietta flew to +carry a message to the kitchen. Richard pulled a bell that was a +signal to the stable (the stable was very near the house), and in +almost a moment's time two men, beside Kilian, were following him +out into the tempest. We saw their lanterns flicker for an instant, +and then they were swallowed up in the darkness. The fury of the +storm increased every moment. The flashes of lightning were but a +few seconds apart, and the roll of thunder was incessant. Every few +moments, above this continued roar, would come an appalling crash +which sounded just above our heads. The children were screaming +with fear, the servants had come into the hall and seemed in a +helpless sort of panic. Sophie was very pale and Mary Leighton +clung hysterically to her. Charlotte Benson was the only one who +seemed to be self-possessed enough to have done anything, if there +had been anything to do. But there was not. All we could do was to +try to behave ourselves with fortitude in view of the personal +danger, and with composure in view of that of others. Presently +there came a lull in the tempest, and we began to breathe freer; +some one went to the door and opened it. A gust of cold wind swept +through the hall and put out the lamp, at which the children and +Mary Leighton renewed their cries of fright.</p> +<p>The respite in the tempest was but temporary; before the lamp +was relit and order restored, the storm had burst again upon us. +This was, if anything, fiercer, but shorter lived. After fifteen or +twenty minutes' rage, it subsided almost utterly, and we could hear +it taking itself off across the heavens. I suppose the whole storm, +from its beginning to its end, had not occupied more than three +quarters of an hour, but it had seemed much longer.</p> +<p>We were very glad to open the door and let the cool, damp air +into the hall. The children were taken up-stairs, consoled with the +promise that word should be sent to them when their uncles should +return. The servants went feebly off to their domain; one was sent +to sweep the piazza, for the rain had beaten in such torrents upon +it that it was impossible to walk there, till it should be brushed +away. Wrapped in their shawls, Henrietta and Charlotte Benson +walked up and down the space that the servant swept, and watched +and listened for a long half-hour. I took a cloak from the rack +and, leaning against the door-post, stood and listened +silently.</p> +<p>From the direction of the river there was nothing to be heard. +There was still distant thunder, but that was the only sound, that +and the dripping of the rain off the leaves of the drenched trees. +The wind was almost silent, and in the spaces of the broken clouds +there were occasional faint stars. A fine, young tree, uprooted by +the tempest, lay across the carriage-way before the house, its +topmost branches resting on the steps of the piazza: the grass was +strewed with leaves like autumn, and the paths were simply pools of +water. Sophie, more than once, came to the door, and begged us to +come in, for fear of the dampness and the cold, but no one heeded +her suggestion. Even she herself came out very often, and looked +and listened anxiously. Finally my ear caught a sound: I ran down +the steps, and bent forward eagerly. There was some one coming +along the garden-path that led up from the river. I could hear the +water plashing as he walked, and he was coming rapidly. In a moment +the others heard it too, and starting to the steps, stood still, +and waited breathlessly. He had no lantern, for we could have seen +that; he was almost at the steps before I could recognize him. It +was Richard. I gave a smothered cry, and springing forward, held +out my hands to stop him.</p> +<p>"Tell me what has happened." He put aside my hands, and went +past me without a second look.</p> +<p>"There has nothing happened, but what he can tell you when he +comes," he said, as he strode past me up the steps, and on into the +house. Then he was alive to tell me: the reaction was a little too +strong for me, and I sat down on the steps to try and recover +myself, for I was ill and giddy.</p> +<p>In a few moments more, more steps sounded in the distance, this +time slowly, several persons coming together. I started and ran up +the steps, I don't exactly know why, and stood behind the others, +who were crowding down, servants and all, to hear what was the +news. Kilian came first, very drenched, and spattered, and subdued +looking, then Mr. Langenau, leaning upon one of the men, very pale, +but making an attempt to smile and speak reassuringly to Sophie, +who met him with looks of great alarm. It evidently gave him +dreadful pain to move, and when he reached the house he was quite +faint. Charlotte Benson placed a chair, into which they supported +him.</p> +<p>"Run, Pauline, and get some brandy," said Sophie, putting a +bunch of keys into my hand without looking at me.</p> +<p>When I came back with the glass of brandy, he was conscious +again, and looked at me and took the glass from my hand. The other +man had been sent for the doctor from the village, who was expected +every moment, and Mr. Langenau, who was now revived by stimulants, +was quite reassuring, and attempted to laugh at us for being so +much frightened. Then the young ladies' curiosity got the better of +their terror, and they clamored for the history of the past two +hours. This history was given them principally by Kilian. I cannot +repeat it satisfactorily, for the reason that I don't know anything +about jibs, and bowsprits, and masts, and centre-boards, and I did +not understand it at the time; but I received enough out of the +mass of evidence presented in that language, to be sure that there +had been considerable danger, and that everybody had behaved well. +In fact, Kilian's changed manner toward the tutor of itself was +quite enough to show that he had behaved unexpectedly well.</p> +<p>The unvarnished and unbowspritted and unjib-boomed tale was +pretty much as follows: Mr. Langenau had found himself in the +middle of the river, when the storm came on. I am afraid he could +not have been thinking very much about the clouds, not to have +noticed that a storm was rising; though every one agreed that they +had never known anything like the rapidity of its coming up. Before +he knew what he was about, a squall struck him, and he had great +difficulty to right the boat. (Then followed a good deal about +luffing and tacking and keeping her taut to windward; that is, I +think that was where he wanted to keep her.) But whatever it was, +he didn't succeed in doing it, and Kilian vouchsafed to say nobody +could have done it. Then something split: I really cannot say +whether it was the mast, or the bowsprit, or the centre-board, but +whatever it was, it hurt Mr. Langenau so much that for a moment he +was stunned. And then Kilian cannot see why he wasn't drowned. When +he came to himself he was still holding the rudder in his hand.</p> +<p>The other arm was useless from the falling of--this thing that +split--upon it. And so the boat was floundering about in the gale +till it got righted, and it was Mr. Langenau's presence of mind +that saved him and the boat, for he never let go the rudder, and +controlled her as far as he could, though he did not know where he +was going, the blackness was so great, and the flashes did not show +him the shore; and he was like one placed in the midst of a +frightful sea wakened out of a dream, owing to the blow and the +unconsciousness which followed.</p> +<p>Then Richard came upon the stage as hero; he and one of the men +had gone out in the only boat at hand, a very small one, toward the +speck, which, by the flashes of lightning, he saw out upon the +river. It was almost impossible to overhaul her, and it could not +have been done at the rate she was going, of course; but then +occurred that accident which rendered Mr. Langenau unconscious, and +which brought things to a standstill for a moment. Kalian said we +did not know anything about the storm up here at the house; that +more than one tree had been struck within a few feet of him on the +shore. The river was surging; the wind was furious; no one could +imagine what it was who had not witnessed it, and he, for his part, +never expected to see Richard come back to land. But Richard did +come back, and brought back the disabled sail-boat and the injured +man. That was the end of the story; which thrilled us all very +much, as we knew the heroes, and had one of them before us, ghastly +pale but uncomplaining.</p> +<p>It seemed as if the doctor never would come! We were women, and +we naturally looked to the coming of the doctor as the end of all +the trouble. It was impossible to make the poor fellow comfortable. +He could not lie down, he could not move without excruciating pain, +and very frequently he grew quite faint. Charlotte Benson and +Sophie administered stimulants; endeavored to ease his position +with pillows and footstools; and did all the nameless soothing acts +that efficient and good nurses alone understand; while I, paralyzed +and mute, stood aside, scarcely able to bear the sight of his +sufferings. I am sorry to say, I don't think he cared at all to +have me by him. He was in such pain that he cared only for the +attendance of those who could alleviate it in a measure; and the +strong firm hand and the skilled touch were more to him than the +presence of one who had nothing but excited and unavailing sympathy +to offer. It was rather a stern fact walking into my dreamland, +this.</p> +<p>By and bye Kilian went away to take off his wet clothes, and he +did not come back again, but sent down a message to his sister that +he was very tired and should go to bed, but if he were wanted for +anything he could be called. This was not heroic of Kilian, but, +after the manner of men, he was apt to keep away from the sight of +disagreeable things.</p> +<p>After all, he could not do much good, but it was something to +feel there was a man to call upon, besides Patrick, who was stupid; +and I saw Charlotte Benson's lip curl when Kilian's message was +brought down.</p> +<p>Richard was in his room: we all thought he had done enough for +one night, and had a right to rest.</p> +<p>At last, after the most weary waiting, wheels were heard, and +the doctor drove up to the door. The servants had begun to look +very sleepy. Mary Leighton had slipped away to her room, and Sophie +had told Henrietta and me to go, for we were really of no earthly +use. We did not take her advice as a compliment, and did not go. +Henrietta opened the door for the doctor, which was doing something +though not much, as two of the maids stood prepared to do it if she +did not.</p> +<p>The doctor was a reassuring, quiet man, and became a pillar of +strength at once. After talking a few moments with Mr. Langenau, +and pulling and twisting him rather ruthlessly, he walked a little +away with Sophie, and told her he wanted him got at once to his +room, and he should need the assistance of one of the gentlemen. +Would not Patrick do? Besides Patrick. Mr. Langenau's shoulder was +dislocated, badly, and it must be set at once. It was a painful +operation and he needed help. I was within hearing of this, and I +was in great alarm. Sophie looked so too, and I don't think she +liked disagreeable things any better than her brother, but she was +a woman, and could not shirk them as he could.</p> +<p>"Pauline," she said, finding me at her side as she turned, "run +up and tell Richard that he must come down, quick. Tell him how it +is, and that he must make haste."</p> +<p>I ran up the stairs breathlessly, but feeling all the time that +it was rather hard that I must be sent to Richard with this +message. Sophie did not want to ask him to come down herself, and +she thought me the most likely ambassador to bring him, but it was +not a congenial embassy. Perhaps, however, she only asked me +because I happened to be nearest her, and she was rather upset by +what the doctor said.</p> +<p>I knocked at Richard's door.</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"Oh, they want you to come down-stairs a minute. There's +something to be done," panting and rather incoherent.</p> +<p>"What is to be done?"</p> +<p>"The Doctor's here, and he says he must have help."</p> +<p>"Where's Kilian?"</p> +<p>"Gone to bed."</p> +<p>Some suppressed ejaculation, and he pushed back his chair, and +rose, and came across the room: at least it sounded so, and I ran +down the stairs again. He followed me in a moment. The Doctor came +forward and talked to him a little while, and then Richard called +Patrick, and told Sophie to see that Mr. Langenau's room was +ready.</p> +<p>"How can he get up two pairs of stairs," said Charlotte Benson, +"when he cannot move an inch without such suffering?"</p> +<p>"That's very true," the Doctor said. "I doubt if he could bear +it. You have no room below?"</p> +<p>"Put a bed in the library," said Charlotte Benson, and in ten +minutes it was done; the servants no longer sleepy when they had +any definite order to fulfill.</p> +<p>"In the meantime," said Richard to his sister, "send those two +to bed," pointing out Henrietta and me.</p> +<p>"I've told them to go, but they won't," said Sophie, somewhat +sharply.</p> +<p>Henrietta walked off, rather injured, but I would not go.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau had another faint attack, and I was quite certain +he would die. Charlotte was making him breathe <i>sal volatile</i> +and Sophie ran to rub his hands. The Doctor was busy at the light +about something.</p> +<p>"The room is all ready," said the servant.</p> +<p>"Very well; now Mr. Richard, if you please," the Doctor +said.</p> +<p>"Pauline," said Richard, coming to me as I stood at the foot of +the balusters, "You can't do any good. You'd better go +up-stairs."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, "I think you're very cruel; I think you +might let me stay."</p> +<p>I suppose my wretchedness, and youthfulness, and folly softened +him again, and he said, very gently, "I don't mean to be unkind, +but it is best for you to go. You need not be so frightened: there +isn't any danger."</p> +<p>I moved slowly to obey him, but turned back and caught his hand +and whispered, "You won't let them hurt him, Richard?" and then ran +up the stairs. No doubt Richard thought I went to my own room; but +I spent the next hour on the landing-place, looking down into the +hall.</p> +<p>It was rather a serious matter, getting Mr. Langenau even into +the library, and it was well they had not attempted his own room. +Patrick was called, and with his assistance and Richard's, he began +to move across the hall. But half-way to the library-door, he +fainted dead away, and Richard carried him and laid him on the bed, +Patrick being worse than useless, having lost his head, and the +Doctor being a small man, and only strong in science.</p> +<p>Pretty soon the library-door closed, and Sophie and Charlotte +were excluded. They walked about the hall, talking in low tones, +and looking anxious. Later, there came groaning from within the +closed door, and Charlotte Benson wrung her hands and listened. The +groans continued for a long while: the misery of hearing them! +After a while they ceased: then Richard opened the door, hastily, +it seemed, and called "Sophie."</p> +<p>Sophie ran forward, and the door closed again. There was a long +silence, time enough for those who were outside to imagine all +manner of horrid possibilities. Then the Doctor and Richard came +out.</p> +<p>"How is he, Doctor?" said Charlotte Benson, bravely, going to +meet them, while I hung trembling over the landing-place.</p> +<p>"Oh better, better, very comfortable," said the Doctor, in his +calm professional tone.</p> +<p>I could not help thinking those groans had not denoted a very +high state of comfort; but maybe the Doctor knew best how people +with dislocated shoulders and broken ribs are apt to express their +sentiments of satisfaction.</p> +<p>I listened with more than interest to their plans for the night: +the Doctor was going away at once; two of the servants and Patrick +were to relieve each other in sitting by him, while Richard was to +throw himself on the sofa in the hall, to be at hand if anything +were needed.</p> +<p>"Which means, that you are to be awake all night," said +Charlotte Benson. "You have more need of rest than we. Let Sophie +and me take your place."</p> +<p>Richard looked gratefully and kindly at her, but refused. The +Doctor assured them again that there was no reason for anxiety; +that Richard would probably be undisturbed all night; that he +himself would come early in the morning. Then Richard came toward +the stairs, and I escaped to my own room.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII."></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<h3>PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>The fiend whose lantern lights the mead,<br> + Were better mate than I!<br> +<br> +<i>Scott</i>.<br> +<br> +Fools, when they cannot see their way,<br> +At once grow desperate,<br> +Have no resource--have nothing to propose--<br> +But fix a dull eye of dismay<br> +Upon the final close.<br> +Success to the stout heart, say I,<br> +That sees its fate, and can defy!<br> +<br> +<i>Faust</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Two weeks later, and things had not stood still; they rarely do, +when there is so much at hand, and ripe for mischief; seventeen +does not take up the practice of wisdom voluntarily. I do not think +I was very different from other girls of seventeen, and I cannot +blame myself very much that I spent all these days in a dream of +bliss and folly; how could it have been otherwise, situated exactly +as we were? This is the way our days were passed. Mr. Langenau was +better, but still not able to leave his room. He was the hero, as a +matter of course, and little besides his sufferings, his condition, +and his prospects, was talked of at the table; which had the effect +of making Kilian stay away two nights out of three, and of +alienating Richard altogether. Richard went to town on Monday +morning after the accident occurred, and it was now Friday of the +following week, and he had not come back.</p> +<p>It was a little dull for Mary Leighton and for Henrietta, +perhaps; possibly for Charlotte Benson, but she did not seem to +mind it much; and I had never found R---- so enchanting as that +fortnight. Charlotte Benson liked to be Florence Nightingale in +little, it was very plain; and naturally nothing made me so happy +as to be permitted to minister to the wants of the (it must be +confessed) frequently unreasonable sufferer. For the first few +days, while he was confined to his bed, of course Charlotte and I +were obliged to content ourselves with the sending of messages, the +arranging of bouquets, the concocting of soups and jellies, and all +the other coddling processes at our command. But when Mr. Langenau +was able to sit up, Sophie (at the instance of Charlotte Benson, +for she seemed to have renounced diplomacy herself,) arranged that +the bed should be taken away during the daytime, and brought back +again at night, and that Mr. Langenau should lie on the sofa +through the day. This made it possible for us to be in the room, +even without Sophie, though we began to think her presence +necessary. That scruple was soon done away with, for it laid too +great a tax on her, and restricted our attentions very much. The +result was, we passed nearly the whole day beside him; Mary +Leighton and Henrietta very often of the party, and Sophie +occasionally looking in upon us. Sometimes when Charlotte Benson, +as ranking officer, decreed that the patient needed rest, we took +our books and work and went to the piazza, outside the window of +his room.</p> +<p>He would have been very tired of us, if he had not been very +much in love with one of us. As it was, it must have been a kind of +fool's paradise in which he lived, five pretty women fluttering +about him, offering the prettiest homage, and one of them the woman +for whom, wisely or foolishly, rightly or wrongly, he had conceived +so violent a passion.</p> +<p>As soon as he was out of pain and began to recover the tone of +his nerves at all, I saw that he wanted me beside him more than +ever, and that Charlotte Benson, with all her skill and cleverness, +was as nothing to him in comparison. No doubt he dissembled this +with care; and was very graceful and very grateful and infinitely +interesting. His moods were very varying, however; sometimes he +seemed struggling with the most unconquerable depression, then we +were all so sorry for him; sometimes he was excited and brilliant; +then we were all thrilled with admiration. And not unfrequently he +was irritable and quite morose and sullen. And then we pitied, and +admired, and feared him <i>à la fois</i>. I am sure no man +more fitted to command the love and admiration of women ever +lived.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson with great self-devotion had insisted upon +teaching the children for two hours every day, so that Mr. Langenau +might not be annoyed at the thought that they were losing time, and +that Sophie might not be inconvenienced. It was the least that she +could do, she reasoned, after the many lessons that Mr. Langenau +had given us, with so much kindness, and without accepting a +return. Henrietta volunteered for the service, also, and from +eleven to one every day the boys were caught and caged, and made to +drink at the fountain of learning; or rather to approach that +fountain, of which forty Charlottes and Henriettas could not have +made them drink.</p> +<p>At that time Charlotte always decreed that Mr. Langenau should +lie on the sofa and go to sleep. The windows were darkened, and the +room was cleared of visitors. On this Friday morning, nearly two +weeks after the accident, as I was following Sophie from the room +(Charlotte having gone with Henrietta to capture the children), Mr. +Langenau called after me rather imperiously, "Miss +d'Estrée--Miss Pauline--"</p> +<p>It had been a stormy session, and I turned back with misgivings. +Sophie shrugged her shoulders and went away toward the +dining-room.</p> +<p>"What are you going away for, may I ask?" he said, as I appeared +before him humbly.</p> +<p>"Why, you know you ought to lie down and to rest," I tried to +say with discretion, but it was all one what I said: it would have +irritated him just the same.</p> +<p>"I am rather tired of this surveillance," he exclaimed. "It is +almost time I should be permitted to express a wish about the +disposition of myself. As I do not happen to want to go to sleep, I +beg I may be allowed the pleasure of your society for a little +while."</p> +<p>"I don't think it would give you much pleasure, and you know you +don't feel as well to-day."</p> +<p>"Again, may I be permitted to judge how I feel myself?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, of course, but--"</p> +<p>"But what, Miss d'Estrée?--No doubt you want to go +yourself--I am sorry I thought of detaining you (with a gesture of +dismissal). I beg you to excuse me, A sick man is apt to be +unreasonable."</p> +<p>"Oh, as to that, you know entirely well I do not want to go. You +are unreasonable, indeed, when you talk as you do now. I only went +away for your benefit."</p> +<p>"<i>Qui s'excuse, s'accuse</i>."</p> +<p>"But I am not excusing myself; and if you put it so I will go +away at once."</p> +<p>"<i>Si vous voulez</i>--"</p> +<p>"But I don't '<i>voulez</i>'--Oh, how disagreeable you can +be."</p> +<p>"You will stay?"</p> +<p>"Pauline!" called Sophie from across the hall.</p> +<p>"There!" I exclaimed, interpreting it as the voice of +conscience. I left my work-basket and book upon the table, and went +out of the room.</p> +<p>"You called me?" I said, following her into the parlor, where, +shutting the door, she motioned me to a seat beside her. She had a +slip of paper and an envelope in her hand, and seemed a little ill +at ease.</p> +<p>"I've just had a telegram from Richard," she said. "He's coming +home to-night by the eleven o'clock train. It's so odd altogether. +I don't know why he's coming. But you may as well read his message +yourself," she said with a forced manner, handing me the paper. It +was as follows:</p> +<p>Send carriage for me to eleven-thirty train to-night. Remember +my injunctions, our last conversation, and your promises."</p> +<p>"Well?" I said, looking up, bewildered and not violently +interested, for I was secretly listening to the quick shutting of +the library-door.</p> +<p>"Why, you see," she returned, with a forced air of confidence +that made me involuntarily shrink from her; I think she even laid +her hand upon my sleeve, or made some gesture of familiarity which +was unusual--</p> +<p>"You see, that last conversation was--about you. Richard is +annoyed at--at your intimacy with Mr. Langenau. You know just as +well as I do how he feels, for no doubt he's spoken to you +himself."</p> +<p>"He never has," I said, quite shortly.</p> +<p>"No?" and she looked rather chagrined. "Well--but at all events +you know how he feels. Girls ar'nt slow generally to find out about +those things. And he is really very unhappy about it, very. I wish, +Pauline, you'd give it up, child. It's gone quite far enough; now +don't you think so yourself? Mr. Langenau isn't the sort of man to +be serious about, you know. It's all very well, just for a summer's +amusement. But, you know, you mustn't go too far. I'm sure, dear, +you're not angry with me: now you understand just what I mean, +don't you?"</p> +<p>No: not angry, certainly not angry. She went on, still with the +impertinent touch upon my arm: "Richard made me promise that I +would look after you, and not permit things to go too far. And you +see--well--I'll tell you in confidence what I think his coming +to-night means, and his message and all. I think--that is, I am +afraid--he's found out something against Mr. Langenau since he's +been away. I know he never has felt confidence in him. But I've +always thought, perhaps that was because he was--well--a little +jealous and suspicious. You know men are so apt to be suspicious; +and I was sure, when he went away that last Monday morning, that he +would not leave a stone unturned in finding out everything about +him. It is that that's kept him, I am sure. Don't let that make you +feel hardly toward Richard," she went on, noticing perhaps my look; +"you know it's only natural, and besides, it's right. How would he +answer to your uncle?"</p> +<p>"It is I who should answer to my uncle," I returned, under my +breath.</p> +<p>"Yes, but you are in our house, in our care. You know, my dear +child, you are very young and very inexperienced; you don't know +how very careful people have to be."</p> +<p>"Why don't you talk that way to Charlotte and Henrietta and Mary +Leighton? Have I done anything so very different from them?" I +answered, with a blaze of spirit.</p> +<p>"No, dear," she said, with a little laugh, "only there are one +or two men very much in love with you, and that makes everything so +different."</p> +<p>I blushed scarlet, and was silenced instantly, as she +intended.</p> +<p>"Now, maybe I am mistaken about his having discovered +something," she went on, "but I can't make anything else out of +Richard's message. He is not one to send off such a despatch +without a reason. Evidently he is very uneasy; and I thought it was +best to be perfectly frank with you, dear, and I know you'll do me +the justice to say I have been, if Richard ever says anything to +you about it. You mustn't blame me, you know, for the way he feels. +I wish the whole thing was at an end," she said, with the first +touch of sincerity. "And now promise me one thing," with another +caressing movement of the hand, "Promise me, you won't go into the +library again till Richard comes, and we hear what he has to say. +Just for my sake, you know, my dear, for you see he would blame me +if I did not keep a strict surveillance. You won't mind doing that, +I'm sure, for me?"</p> +<p>"I shall not promise anything," I returned, getting up, "but I +am not likely to go near the library after what you've said."</p> +<p>"That's a good child," she said, evidently much relieved, and +thinking that the affair was very near its end. I opened the door, +and she added: "Now go up-stairs, and rest yourself, for you look +as if you had a headache, and don't think of anything that's +disagreeable." That was a good prescription, but I did not take +it.</p> +<p>Of course, I did not go near the library; that was understood. +After dinner, the servant brought in Mr. Langenau's tray untouched, +and Charlotte Benson started up, and ran in to see what was the +matter. Sophie went too, looking a little troubled. I think they +were both snubbed: for ten minutes after, when I met Charlotte in +the hall, she had an unusual flush upon her cheek, and Sophie I +found standing at one of the parlor-windows, biting her lip, and +tapping impatiently upon the carpet. Evidently the affair was not +as near its placid end as she had hoped. She started a little when +she saw me, and tried to look unruffled.</p> +<p>"How sultry it is this afternoon!" she said. "Are you going up +to your room to take a rest? stop in my room on your way, I want to +show you those embroideries that I was telling Charlotte Benson of +last night."</p> +<p>"I did not hear you, and I do not know anything about them," I +said, feeling not at all affectionate.</p> +<p>"No? Oh, I forgot: it was while you and Henrietta were sitting +in the library, and Charlotte and I were walking up and down the +piazza while it rained. Why, they are some heavenly sets that I got +this spring from Paris--Marshall picked them up one day at the +<i>Bon Marché</i>--and verily they are <i>bon +marché</i>. I never saw anything so cheap, and I was telling +Charlotte that some of you might just as well have part of them, +for I never could use the half. Come up and look them over."</p> +<p>Now I loved "heavenly sets" as well as most women, but dress was +not the bait for me at that moment. So I said my head ached and I +could not look at them then, if she'd excuse me; and I went +silently away to my room, not caring at all if she were pleased or +not. I disliked and distrusted her more and more every moment, and +she seemed to me so mean: for I knew all her worry came from the +apprehension of what she might have to fear from Richard, not the +thought of the suffering that he or that any one else endured.</p> +<p>It was a long afternoon, but it reached its end, after the +manner of all afternoons on record, even those of Marianna. When I +came down-stairs they were all at tea and Kilian had arrived. A +more enlivening atmosphere prevailed, and the invalid was not +discussed. A drive was being canvassed. There was an early moon, +and Kilian proposed driving Tom and Jerry before the open wagon, +which would carry four, through the valley-road, to be back by +half-past nine or ten o'clock.</p> +<p>"But what am I to do," cried Kilian, "when there are five +angels, and I have only room for three?"</p> +<p>"Why, two will have to stay at home, according to my +arithmetic," said Charlotte, good-naturedly, "and I've no doubt I +shall be remainder."</p> +<p>"If you stay, I shall stay with you," said Henrietta, dropping +the metaphor, for metaphors, even the mildest, were beyond her +reach of mind.</p> +<p>Everybody wanted to stay, and everybody tried to be quite firm; +but as no one's firmness but mine was based on inclination, the +result was that Sophie and I were "remainder," and Mary Leighton, +Charlotte, and Henrietta drove away with Kilian quite jauntily, at +half-past seven o'clock. But before she went, Charlotte, who was +really good-natured with all her sharpness and self-will, went into +the library to speak to Mr. Langenau, and to show she did not +resent the noonday slight, whatever that had been. But presently +she came back looking rather anxious, and said to Sophie, ignoring +me (whom she always did ignore if possible),</p> +<p>"Do go and see what you can do for Mr. Langenau. He is really +very far from well. His tea stands there, and he hasn't taken +anything to eat. He looks feverish and excited, and I truly think +he ought to see the Doctor. You know he promised the Doctor to stay +in his room, and keep still all the rest of the week. But I am sure +he means to come out to-morrow, and he even talks of going down to +town. It will kill him if he does; I'm sure he's doing badly, and I +wish you'd go and see to him."</p> +<p>"Does he know Richard is coming up to-night?" asked Sophie, +<i>sotto voce</i>, but with affected carelessness.</p> +<p>"I do not know; oh yes, he does, I mentioned it to him at +dinner-time, I remember now."</p> +<p>"Well, I'll see if I can do anything for him; now go, they're +waiting for you. Have a pleasant time."</p> +<p>After they were gone, Sophie went into the library, but she did +not stay very long. She came and sat beside me on the +river-balcony, and talked a little, desultorily and +absent-mindedly.</p> +<p>Presently there was a call for "mamma," a hubbub and a +hurry--soon explained. Charley, who had been running wild for the +last two weeks, without tutor or uncle to control him, had just +fallen from the mow, and hurt himself somewhat, and frightened +himself much more. The whole house was in a ferment. He was taken +to mamma's room, for he was a great baby when anything was the +matter with him, and would not let mamma move an inch away from +him. After assisting to the best of my ability in making him +comfortable, and seeing myself only in the way, I went down-stairs +again, and took my seat upon the balcony that overlooked the +river.</p> +<p>The young moon was shining faintly, and the air was soft and +balmy. The house was very still; the servants, I think, were all in +a distant part of the house, or out enjoying the moonlight and the +idleness of evening. Sophie was nailed to Charley's bed up-stairs, +trying to soothe him; Benny was sinking to sleep in his little +crib. It seemed like an enchanted palace, and when I heard a step +crossing the parlor, it made me start with a vague feeling of +alarm. The parlor-window by me, which opened to the floor, was not +closed, and in another moment some one came out and stood beside +me. It was Mr. Langenau. I started up and exclaimed, "Mr. Langenau, +how imprudent! Oh, go back at once."</p> +<p>He seemed weak, and his hand shook as he leaned against the +casement, but his eyes were glittering with a feverish excitement. +He did not answer. I went on: "The Doctor forbade your coming out +for several days yet--and the exertion and the night-air--oh, I beg +you to go back."</p> +<p>"Alone?" he said in a low voice.</p> +<p>"No, oh no, I will go with you. Anything, only do not stay here +a moment longer; come." And taking his hand (and how burning hot it +was!) and drawing it through my arm, I started toward the hall. He +had to lean on me, for the unusual exertion seemed to have +annihilated all his strength. When we reached the library, I led +him to a chair--a large and low and easy one, and he sank down in +it.</p> +<p>"You are not going away?" he asked, as he gasped for breath, +"For there is something that must be said to-night."</p> +<p>"No, I will not go," I answered, frightened to see him so, and +agitated by a thousand feelings. "I will light the lamp, and read +to you. Let me move your chair back from the window."</p> +<p>"No, you must not light the lamp; I like the moonlight better. +Bring your chair and sit here by me--here." He leaned and +half-pulled toward him the companion to the chair on which he sat, +a low, soft, easy one.</p> +<p>I sat down in it, sitting so I nearly faced him. The moon was +shining in at the one wide window: I can remember exactly the +pattern that the vine-leaves made as the moonlight fell through +them on the carpet at our feet. I had a bunch of verbena-leaves +fastened in my dress, and I never smell verbena-leaves at any time +or place without seeing before me that moon-traced pattern and that +wide-open window.</p> +<p>"Pauline," he said, in that low, thrilling voice, leaning a +little toward me, "I have a great deal to say to you to-night. I +have a great wrong to ask pardon for--a great sorrow to tell you +of. I shall never call you Pauline again as I call you to-night. I +shall never look into your eyes again, I shall never touch your +hand. For we must part, Pauline; and this hour, which heaven has +given me, is the last that we shall spend together on the +earth."</p> +<p>I truly thought that his fever had produced delirium, and, +trying to conceal my alarm, I said, with an attempt to quiet him, +"Oh, do not say such things; we shall see each other a great, great +many times, I hope, and have many more hours together."</p> +<p>"No, Pauline, you do not know so well as I of what I speak. This +is no delirium; would to heaven, it were, and I might wake up from +it. No, the parting must be said to-night, and I must be the one to +speak it. We may spend days, perhaps, under the same roof--we may +even sit at the same table once again; but, I repeat, from this day +I may never look into your eyes again, I may never touch your hand. +Pauline, can you forgive me? I know that you can love. Merciful +Heaven! who so well as I, who have held your stainless heart in my +stained hand these many dreamy weeks; and Justice has not struck me +dead. Yes, Pauline, I know you've loved me; but remember this one +thing, in all your bitter thoughts of me hereafter: remember this, +you have not loved me as I have loved you. You have not given up +earth and heaven both for me as I have done for you. For you? No, +not for you, but for the shadow of you, for the thought of you, for +these short weeks of you. And then, an eternity of absence, and of +remorse, and of oblivion--ah, if it might be oblivion for you! If I +could blot out of your life this short, blighting summer; if I +could put you back to where you were that fresh, sweet morning that +I walked with you beside the river! I loved you from that day, +Pauline, and I drugged my conscience, and refused to heed that I +was doing you a wrong in teaching you to love me. Pauline, I have +to tell you a sad story: you will have to go back with me very far; +you will have to hear of sins of which you never dreamed in your +dear innocence. I would spare you if I could, but you must know, +for you must forgive me. And when you have heard, you may cease to +love, but I think you will forgive. Listen."</p> +<p>Why should I repeat that terrible disclosure? why harrow my soul +with going back over that dark path? Let me try to forget that such +sins, such wrongs, such revenges, ever stained a human life. I was +so young, so innocent, so ignorant. It was a strange misfortune +that I should have had to know that which aged and changed me so. +But he was right in saying that I had to know it. My life was bound +involuntarily to his by my love, and what concerned him was my +fate. Alas! He was in no other way bound to me than by my love: nor +ever could be.</p> +<p>I don't know whether I was prepared for it or not: I knew that +something terrible and final was to come, and I felt the awe that +attends the thoughts that words are final and time limited. But +when I heard the fatal truth--that another woman lived to whom he +was irrevocably bound--I heard it as in a dream, and did not move +or speak. I think I felt for a moment as if I were dead, as if I +had passed out of the ranks of the living into the abodes of the +silent, and benumbed, and pulseless. There was such a horrible awe, +and chill, and check through all my young and rapid blood. It was +like death by freezing. It is not so pleasant as they say, believe +me. But no pain: that came afterward, when I came to life, when I +felt the touch of his hand on mine, and ceased to hear his cruel +words.</p> +<p>I had shrunk back from him in my chair, and sat, I suppose, like +a person in a trance, with my hands in my lap, and my eyes fixed on +him with bewilderment. But when he ceased to speak--and, leaning +forward on one knee, clasped my hands in his, and drew me toward +him, then indeed I knew I was not dead. Oh, the agony of those few +moments--I tried to rise, to go away from him. But he held me with +such strength--all his weakness was gone now. He folded his arms +around my waist and held me as in a vise. Then suddenly leaning his +head down upon my arms, he kissed my hands, my arms, my dress, with +a moan of bitter anguish.</p> +<p>"Not mine," he murmured. "Never mine but in my dreams. O +wretched dreams, that drive me mad. Pauline, they will tell us that +we must not dream--we must not weep, we must be stocks and stones. +We must wear this weight of living death till that good Lord that +makes such laws shall send us death in mercy. Twenty, thirty, +forty, fifty years of suffering: that might almost satisfy Him, one +would think. Pauline! you and I are to say good-bye to-night. +Good-bye! People talk of it as a cruel word. Think of it: if it +were but for a year, a year with hope at the end of it to keep our +hearts alive, it would be terrible, and we should need be brave. +The tears that lovers shed over a year apart; the days that have +got to come and go, how weary. The nights--the nights that sleep +flies off from, and that memory reigns over. Count them--over three +hundred come in every year. One, you think while it is passing, is +enough to kill you: one such night of restless torture, and how +many shall we multiply our three hundred by? We are young, Pauline. +You are a child, a very child. I am in the very flush and strength +of manhood. There is half a century of suffering in me yet: this +frame, this brain, will stand the wear of the hard years to come +but too, too well. There is no hope of death. There is no hope in +life. That star has set. Good God! And that makes hell--why should +I wait for it--it cannot be worse there than here. Don't listen to +me--it will not be as hard for you--you are so young--you have no +sins to torture you--only a little love to conquer and forget. You +will marry a man who lives for you, and who is patient and will +wait till this is over. Ah, no: by Heaven! I can't quite stand it +yet. Pauline, you never loved him, did you--never blushed for +him--never listened for his coming with your lips apart and your +heart fluttering, as I have seen you listen when you thought that I +was coming? No, I know you never loved him: I know you have loved +me alone--me--who ought to have forbidden you. +Forgive--forgive--forgive me."</p> +<p>A passion of tears had come to my relief, and I shook from head +to foot with sobs. I cannot feel ashamed when I remember that he +held me for one moment in his arms. He had been to me till that +shock, strength, truth, justice: <i>the man I loved</i>. How could +I in one instant know him by his sin alone, and undo all my trust? +I knew only this, that it was for the last time, and that my heart +was broken.</p> +<p>I forgave him--that was an idle form; in my great love I never +felt that there was anything to be forgiven, except the wrong that +fate had done me, in making my love so hopeless. He told me to +forget him; that seemed to me as idle; but all his words were +precious, and all my soul was in his hand. When, at that moment, +the sound of wheels upon the gravel came, and the sound of laughter +and of voices, I sprang up; he caught me in his arms and held me +closely. Another moment, the parting was over, and I was kneeling +by my bed up-stairs, weeping, sobbing, hopeless.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII."></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Into my chamber brightly<br> + Came the early sun's good-morrow;<br> +On my restless bed, unsightly,<br> + I sat up in my sorrow.<br> +<br> +<i>Faust.</i></blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>It is an amazing thing, the strength and power of pride. Pride, +and the law of self-respect and self-preservation in our being, is +the force that holds us in our course. When we reflect upon it, how +few of all the myriads fly out from it and are lost. That I ate my +meals; that I dressed myself with care; that I took walks and +drives: that I did not avoid my companions, and listened patiently +to what they chose to say: these were the evidences of that +centripetal law within that was keeping me from destruction. It +would be difficult to imagine a person more unhappy. Undisciplined +and unfortified by the knowledge that disappointment is an integral +part of all lives, there had suddenly come upon me a disappointment +the most total. It covered everything; there was not a flicker of +hope or palliation. And I had no idea where to go to make myself +another hope, or in what course lay palliation. As we have prepared +ourselves or have been prepared, so is the issue of our +temptations. My great temptation came upon me, foolish, ignorant, +unprepared: the wonder would have been if I had resisted it to my +own credit.</p> +<p>The days went on as usual at R----, and I must hold my place +among the careless daughters and not let them see my trouble. +Careless daughters, indeed they were, and I shuddered at the +thought of their cold eyes: no doubt their eyes, bright as well as +cold, saw that something was amiss with me; with all my bravery, I +could not keep the signs of wretchedness out of my pale face. But +they never knew the story, and they could only guess at what made +me wretched. It is amazing (again) what power there is in silence, +and how much you can keep in your hands if you do not open them. +People may surmise--may invent, but they cannot know your secret +unless you tell it to them, and their imaginings take so many +forms, the multitude of things that they create blot out all +definite design. Thus every one at R---- had a different theory +about my loss of spirits and the relapse of Mr. Langenau, but no +one ever knew what passed that night.</p> +<p>Richard came. He was closeted with Sophie until after midnight, +but I do not think he told her anything that she desired to know. I +think he only tried to find out from her what had passed (and she +did not know that I had been in the library since she spoke to me). +If Mr. Langenau had been well, I have no doubt that it was his +design to have dismissed him on the following day, no matter at +what hazard. How much he knew I cannot tell, but enough to have +warranted him in doing that, perhaps. He probably would have put it +in Mr. Langenau's power to have gone without any coloring put upon +his going that would have affected his standing in the household. +This was his design, no doubt; otherwise he would have told his +sister all. His delicate consideration for me made him guard as +sacred the fact that I had wasted my hope and love so cruelly.</p> +<p>He was not going away again, I soon found; <i>qui va à la +chasse perd sa place</i>. He had lost his place, but he would stay +and guard me all the same; and the chase for gold seemed given up +for good and all.</p> +<p>Kilian was in constant surprise, and made out many catechisms, +but he got little satisfaction.</p> +<p>Richard was going to have a few weeks' "rest," unless something +should occur to call him back to town.</p> +<p>He sought no interview with me, was kind and silent, but his eye +was never off me. I think he watched his opportunity for saying +what he had to say to Mr. Langenau, but such an opportunity seemed +destined not to come.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was ill the day after Richard came home--quite ill +enough to cause alarm. He had a high fever, and the Doctor even +seemed uneasy, and prescribed the profoundest quiet. After a day or +two, however, he improved, and all danger seemed averted.</p> +<p>As soon as he was strong enough, he was to be removed to his own +room above, for the sake of quiet, and to release the household +from its enforced tranquillity.</p> +<p>All these particulars I heard at table, or from morning groups +on the piazza: with stony cheeks, and eyes that looked +unflinchingly into all curious faces: so works the law of +self-defence.</p> +<p>All but Richard, I am sure, were staggered, but he read with his +heart.</p> +<p>I never blushed now, I never faltered, I never said a word I did +not mean to say. It was a struggle for life: though I did not value +the life, and should have found it hard to say why I did not give +up and let them see that I was killed.</p> +<p>But I kept wondering how I should sustain myself if I should be +called upon to meet him once again.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV."></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<h3>GUARDED.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely,<br> +I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only<br> +Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received.<br> +<br> +<i>Felix Arvers</i>.<br> +<br> +Duty to God is duty to her; I think<br> +God, who created her, will save her too<br> +Some new way, by one miracle the more<br> +Without me. Then, prayer may avail, perhaps.<br> +<br> +<i>R. Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>"Mr. Langenau is coming down to-day," said Charlotte Benson in a +stage-whisper, as we took our places at the table, a week after +this. "I met him in the hall about an hour ago, looking like a +ghost, and he told me he was coming down to dinner."</p> +<p>"<i>Vraiment</i>," said Sophie, looking a little disconcerted. +"Well, he shall have Charley's place. Charley isn't coming."</p> +<p>"I hope he's in a better temper than that last day we saw him," +said Henrietta.</p> +<p>"Poor fellow!" said Charlotte, "that was the day before the +fever began. It was coming on: that was the reason of it all, no +doubt. He looks ghastly enough now. You'll forgive all, the moment +that you see him."</p> +<p>Charlotte had forgiven him herself, though she had never resumed +the role of Florence Nightingale. Since he had given up the library +and removed to his own room, he had been quite lost to all, and +nobody seemed to have gone near him, not even Sophie, who would +have been glad to forget that he existed, without doubt.</p> +<p>Richard's eyes were on me as Charlotte said "Hush!" and a step +crossed the hall in the pause that ensued. Kilian, sitting next me, +began to talk to me at that moment, the moment that Mr. Langenau +entered the room. And I think I answered quite coherently: though +two sets of words were going through my brain, the answer to his +commonplace question, and the words that Mr. Langenau had said that +night, "Pauline, I shall never look into your eyes again, I shall +never touch your hand."</p> +<p>It seemed to me an even chance which sentence saw the day; but +as the walls did not fall down about me and no face looked +amazement, I found I must have answered Kilian's question with +propriety.</p> +<p>There were many voices speaking at once; but there was such a +ringing in my ears, I could not distinguish who spoke, or what was +said: for a moment I was lost, if any one had taken advantage of +it. But gradually I regained my senses: one after another they each +took up their guard again: and I looked up. And met his eyes? No; +but let mine rest upon his face. And then I found I had not +measured my temptation, and that there was something to do besides +defending myself from others' eyes. For there was to defend myself +from my own heart. The passion of pity and tenderness that rushed +over me as my eyes fell on his haggard face, so strong and yet so +wan, swept away for the moment the defences against the public +gaze. I could have fallen down at his feet before them all and told +him that I loved him.</p> +<p>A few moments more of the sound of commonplace words, and the +repulsion of every-day faces and expressions, swept me back into +the circle of conventionalities, and brought me under the force of +that current that keeps us from high tragedy.</p> +<p>All during the meal Mr. Langenau was grave and silent, speaking +little and then with effort. He had overrated his strength, +perhaps, for he went away before the end of the dinner, asking to +be excused, in a tone almost inaudible. After he had gone, a good +many commentaries were offered. Kilian seemed to express the sense +of the assembly when he said: "The man looks shockingly, and he's +not out of the woods yet."</p> +<p>Sophie looked troubled: she had some compunctions for the +neglect of the last few days, perhaps.</p> +<p>"What does the Doctor say?" pursued her brother.</p> +<p>"Nothing, I suppose--for he hasn't been here for a week, +almost."</p> +<p>"Well, then, you'd better send for him, if you don't want the +fellow to die on your hands. He's not fit to be out of bed, and +you'll have trouble if you don't look out."</p> +<p>"As if I hadn't had trouble," returned his sister, almost +peevishly.</p> +<p>"Well, I beg your pardon, Sophie. But I fancied you and Miss +Charlotte were in charge; and I thought about ten days ago, your +patient was in a fair way to be killed with kindness, and it's a +little of a surprise to me to find he's being let alone so very +systematically."</p> +<p>"Why, to tell you the truth," cried Charlotte Benson, "we were +turned out of office without much ceremony, one fine day after +dinner. I am quite willing to be forgiving; but I don't think you +can ask me to put myself in the way of being snubbed again to that +extent."</p> +<p>"The ungrateful varlet! what did he complain of? Hadn't he been +coddled enough to please him? Did he want four or five more women +dancing attendance on him?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it was not want of attention he complained of. In fact," +said Charlotte, coloring, "It was that he didn't like quite so +much, and wanted to be allowed more liberty."</p> +<p>Kilian indulged in a good laugh, which wasn't quite fair, +considering Charlotte's candor.</p> +<p>"But the truth is," said Charlotte, uneasily, "that he was too +ill, that day, to be responsible for what he said. He was just +coming down with the fever, and, you know, people are always most +unreasonable then."</p> +<p>"I'm very glad I never gave him a chance to dispense with me," +said Mary Leighton, with a view to making herself amiable in +Kilian's eyes.</p> +<p>"I think he dispensed with you early in the season," said +Charlotte, sharply. "Oh, hast thou forgotten that walk that he +took, upon your invitation? Ah, Miss Leighton, his look was quite +dramatic. I know you never have forgiven him."</p> +<p>"I haven't the least idea what you are talking of," returned +Mary Leighton, with bewildered and child-like simplicity.</p> +<p>"Ah, then it was not as unique an occurrence as I hoped," said +Charlotte, viciously. "I imagined it would make more of an +impression."</p> +<p>"Charlotte," interrupted Sophie, shocked at this open +impoliteness, "I hope you are forgiving enough to break it to him +that he's got to see the Doctor; for if he comes unexpectedly and +goes up to his room, he will be dramatic, and that is so +unpleasant, as we know to our sorrow."</p> +<p>"Indeed, I shan't tell him," cried Charlotte, "you can take your +life in your hand, and try it if you please; but I cannot consent +to risk myself. There's Mary Leighton, she bears no malice. Perhaps +she'll go with you as support."</p> +<p>"Ha, ha!" cried Kilian. "Richard, you and I may be called on to +bring up the rear. There's the General's old sword in the hall, and +I'll take the Joe Manton from the shelf in the library."</p> +<p>"Richard looks as if he disapproved of us all very much," said +Sophie, and in truth Richard did look just so. He did not even +answer these suggestions, but began after a moment to talk to +Henrietta on indifferent matters.</p> +<p>It was on this afternoon that a new policy was inaugurated at +R----. We were taught to feel that we had been quite aggrieved by +the dullness of the past two weeks or more, and that we must be +compensated by some refreshing novelties.</p> +<p>Richard was at the head of the movement--Richard with his sober +cares and weary look. But the incongruity struck no one; they were +too glad to be amused. Even Sophie brightened up. Charlotte was +ready to throw her energies into any active scheme, hospital or +picnic, charity-school or kettle-drum.</p> +<p>"To-morrow will be just the sort of day for it," said Richard, +"cool and fine. And half the pleasure of a picnic is not having +time to get tired of it beforehand."</p> +<p>"That's very true," said Charlotte; "but I don't see how we're +going to get everybody notified and everything in order for nine +o'clock to-morrow morning."</p> +<p>"Nothing easier," said Kilian; "we'll go, directly after tea, to +the De Witts and Prentices, and send Thomas with a note to the +Lowders. Sophie has done her part in shorter time than that, very +often; and I don't believe we should be starved, if she only gave +half an hour's notice to the cook."</p> +<p>What is heavier than pleasure-seeking in which one has no +pleasure? I shall never forget the misery of those plans and that +bustle. I dared not absent myself, and I could scarcely carry out +my part for very heavy-heartedness. It seemed to me that I could +not bear it, if the hour came, and I should have to drive away with +all that merry party, and leave poor Mr. Langenau for a long, long +day alone.</p> +<p>I felt sure something would occur to release me: it could not be +that I should have to go. With the exaggeration of youth, it seemed +to me an impossibility that I could endure anything so grievous. +How I hated all the careless, thoughtless, happy household! Only +Richard, enemy as he was to my happiness, seemed endurable to me. +For Richard was not merry-making in his heart, and I was sure he +was sorry for me all the time he was trying to oppose me.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was again in the Doctor's care, who came that +evening, and who said to Richard, in my hearing, he must be kept +quiet; he didn't altogether like his symptoms.</p> +<p>Richard had his hands full, with great matters and small. Sophie +had washed hers of the invalid; there had been some sharpish words +between the sister and brother on the matter, I imagine, and the +result was, Richard was the only one who did or would do anything +for his comfort and safety.</p> +<p>That day, after appearing at dinner, he came no more. I watched +with feverish anxiety every step, every sound; but he came not. I +knew that the Doctor's admonitions would not have much weight, nor +yet Richard's opinion. I had the feeling that if he would only +speak to me, only look at me once, it would ease that horrible +oppression and pain which I was suffering. The agony I was enduring +was so intolerable, and its real relief so impossible, like a child +I caught at some fancied palliation, and craved only that. What +would one look, one word be--out of a lifetime of silence and +separation.</p> +<p>No matter: it was what I raged and died for, just one look, just +one word more. He had said he would never look into my eyes again: +that haunted me and made me superstitious. I would <i>make</i> him +look at me. I would seize his hand and kneel before him, and tell +him I should die if he did not speak to me once more. Once more! +Just once, out of years, out of forever. I had thrown duty, +conscience, thought to the winds. I had but one fear--that we +should be finally separated without that word spoken, that look +exchanged. I said to myself again and again, I shall die, if I +cannot speak to him again. Beyond that I did not look. What better +I should be after that speaking I did not care. I only longed and +looked for that as a relief from the insufferable agony of my fate. +One cannot take in infinite wretchedness: it is our nature to make +dates and periods to our sorrows in our imagination.</p> +<p>And so that horrid afternoon and evening passed, amid the racket +and babel of visitors and visiting. I followed almost blindly, and +did as the others did. The next morning dawned bright and cold. +What a day for summer! The sun was brilliant, but the wind came +from over icebergs; it seemed like "winter painted green."</p> +<p>We were to start at nine o'clock. I was ready early, waiting on +the piazza for the aid to fate that was to keep me from the +punishment of going. No human being had spoken his name that +morning. How should I know whether he were still so ill or no.</p> +<p>The hour for starting had arrived. Richard, who never kept long +out of sight of me, was busy loading the wagon that was to +accompany us, with baskets of things to eat, and with wines and +fruits. Kilian was engrossed in arranging the seats and cushions in +the two carriages which had just driven to the door.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton was fluttering about the flower-bed at the left of +the piazza, making herself lovely with geranium and roses. Sophie, +in a beautiful costume, was pacifying Charley, who had had a +difference with his uncle Kilian. Charlotte and Henrietta were busy +in their small way over a little basket of preserves; and two or +three of the neighboring gentlemen, who were to drive with us, were +approaching the house by a side-entrance.</p> +<p>In a moment or two we should be ready to be off. What should I +do? I was frantic with the thought that he might be worse, he might +go away. I was to be absent such a length of time. I must--I would +see him before we went. What better moment than the present, when +everybody was engaged in this fretting, foolish picnic. I would run +up-stairs--call to him outside his door--make him speak to me.</p> +<p>With a guilty look around, I started up, stole through the group +on the piazza, and ran to the stairs. But alas, Richard had not +failed to mark my movements, and before my foot had touched the +stair his voice recalled me. I started with a guilty look, and +trembled, but dared not meet his eye.</p> +<p>"Pauline, are you going away? We are just ready start."</p> +<p>If I had had any presence of mind I should have made an excuse, +and gone to my own room for a moment, and taken my chance of +getting to the floor above; but I suppose he would have forestalled +me. I could not command a single word, but turned back and followed +him. As we got into the carriage, the voices and the laughing +really seemed to madden me. Driving away from the house, I never +shall forget the sensation of growing heaviness at my heart; it +seemed to be turning into lead. I glanced back at the closed +windows of his room and wondered if he saw us, and if he thought +that I was happy.</p> +<p>The length of that day! The glare of that sun! The chill of that +unnatural wind! Every moment seemed to me an hour. I can remember +with such distinctness the whole day, each thing as it happened; +conversations which seemed so senseless, preparations which seemed +so endless. The taste of the things I tried to eat: the smell of +the grass on which we sat, and the pine-trees above our heads: the +sound of fire blazing under the teakettle, and the pained sensation +of my eyes when the smoke blew across into our faces: the hateful +vibration of Mary Leighton's laugh: all these things are +unnaturally vivid to me at this day.</p> +<p>I don't know what the condition of my brain must have been, to +have received such an exaggerated impression of unimportant +things.</p> +<p>"What can I do for you, Miss Pauline?" said Kilian, throwing +himself down on the grass at my feet. I could not sit down for very +impatience, but was walking restlessly about, and was now standing +for a moment by a great tree under which the table had been spread. +It was four o'clock, and there was only vague talk of going home; +the horses had not yet been brought up, the baskets were not a +quarter packed. Every one was indolent, and a good deal tired; the +gentlemen were smoking, and no one seemed in a hurry.</p> +<p>When Kilian said, "What can I do for you. Miss Pauline?" I could +not help saying, "Take me home."</p> +<p>"Home!" cried Kilian. "Here is somebody talking about going +home. Why, Miss Pauline, I am just beginning to enjoy myself! only +look, it is but four o'clock."</p> +<p>"Oh, let us stay and go home by moonlight," cried Mary Leighton, +in a little rapture.</p> +<p>"Would it not be heavenly!" said Henrietta.</p> +<p>"How about tea?" said Charlotte. "We shall be hungry before +moonlight, and there isn't anything left to eat."</p> +<p>"How material!" cried Kilian, who had eaten an enormous +dinner.</p> +<p>"We shall all get cold," said Sophie, who loved to be +comfortable, "and the children are beginning to be very cross."</p> +<p>"Small blame to them," muttered a dissatisfied man in my ear, +who had singled me out as a companion in discontent, and had +pursued me with his contempt for pastoral entertainments, and for +this entertainment in especial.</p> +<p>"Well, let the people that want to stay, stay; but let us go +home," I said, hastily.</p> +<p>"That is so like you, Pauline," exclaimed Mary Leighton, in a +voice that stung me like nettles.</p> +<p>"It is very like common-sense," I said, "if that's like me."</p> +<p>"Well, it isn't particularly."</p> +<p>"Let dogs delight," said Kilian, "I have a compromise to offer. +If we go home by the bridge we pass the little Brink hotel, where +they give capital teas. We can stop there, rest, get tea, have a +dance in the 'ball-room,' sixteen by twenty, and go home by +moonlight, filling the souls of Miss Leighton and Henrietta with +bliss."</p> +<p>A chorus of ecstasy followed this; Sophie herself was satisfied +with the plan, and exulted in the prospect of washing her face, and +lying down on a bed for half an hour, though only at a little +country inn. Even this low form of civilized life was tempting, +after seven hours spent in communion with nature on hard rocks.</p> +<p>Great alacrity was shown in getting ready and in getting off. I +could not speak to any one, not even the dissatisfied man, but +walked away by myself and tried to let no one see what I was +feeling. After all was ready, I got into the carriage beside one of +the Miss Lowders, and the dissatisfied man sat opposite. He wore +canvas shoes and a corduroy suit, and sleeve-buttons and studs that +were all bugs and bees. I think I could make a drawing of the +sleeve-button on the arm with which he held the umbrella over us; +there were five different forms of insect-life represented on it, +but I remember them all.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you haven't enjoyed yourself very much," said Miss +Lowder, looking at me rather critically.</p> +<p>"I? why--no, perhaps not; I don't generally enjoy myself very +much."</p> +<p>Somebody out on the front seat laughed very shrilly at this: of +course it was Mary Leighton, who was sitting beside Kilian, who +drove. I felt I would have liked to push her over among the horses, +and drive on.</p> +<p>"Isn't her voice like a steel file?" I said with great +simplicity to my companions. The dissatisfied man, writhing +uncomfortably on his seat, four inches too narrow for any one but a +child of six, assented gloomily. Miss Lowder, who was twenty-eight +years old and very well bred, looked disapproving, and changed the +subject. Not much more was said after this. Miss Lowder had a +neuralgic headache, developed by the cold wind and an undigested +dinner eaten irregularly. She was too polite to mention her +sufferings, but leaned back in the carriage and was silent.</p> +<p>My vis-à-vis was at last relieved by the declining sun +from his task, and so the umbrella-arm and its sleeve-button were +removed from my range of vision.</p> +<p>We counted the mile-posts, and we looked sometimes at our +watches, and so the time wore away.</p> +<p>Kilian and Mary Leighton were chattering incessantly, and did +not pay much attention to us. Kilian drove pretty fast almost all +the way, but sometimes forgot himself when Mary was too seductive, +and let the horses creep along like snails.</p> +<p>"There's our little tavern," cried Kilian at last, starting up +the horses.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry," murmured Mary Leighton, "we have had such a +lovely drive."</p> +<p>My vis-à-vis groaned and looked at me as this observation +reached us. I laughed a little hysterically: I was so glad to be at +the half-way house--and Mary Leighton's words were so absurd. When +we got out of the carriage, the dissatisfied man stretched his long +English limbs out, and lighting his cigar, began silently to pace +the bricks in front of the house.</p> +<p>Kilian took us into the little parlor (we were the first to +arrive), and committed us to the care of a thin, tired-looking +woman, and then went to see to the comfort of his horses.</p> +<p>The tired woman, who looked as if she never had sat down since +she grew up, took us to some rooms, where we were to rest till tea +was ready. The rooms had been shut up all day, and the sun had been +beating on them: they smelled of paint and dust and ill-brushed +carpets. The water in the pitchers was warm and not very clear: the +towels were very small and thin, the beds were hard, and the +pillows very small, like the towels: they felt soft and warm and +limp, like sick kittens. We threw open the windows and aired the +rooms, and washed our faces and hands: and Miss Lowder lay down on +the bed and put her head on a pile of four of the little pillows +collected from the different rooms. Mary Leighton spent the time in +re-arranging her hair, and I walked up and down the hall, too +impatient to rest myself in any way.</p> +<p>By-and-by the others came, and then there was a hubbub and a +clatter, and poor Miss Lowder's head was overlooked in the +mêlée; for these were all the rooms the house afforded +for the entertainment of wayfarers, and as there were nine ladies +in our party, it is not difficult to imagine the confusion that +ensued.</p> +<p>Benny and Charley also came to have their hair arranged, and it +devolved on Charlotte and me to do it, as their mamma had thrown +herself exhausted on one of the beds, and with the bolsters doubled +up under her head, was trying to get some rest.</p> +<p>It was fully half-past seven before the tea-bell rang. I seized +Benny's hand, and we were the first on the ground. I don't know how +I thought this would be useful in hurrying matters, for Benny's tea +and mine were very soon taken, and were very insignificant +fractions of the general business.</p> +<p>There were kerosene lamps on the table, and everything was +served in the plainest manner, but the cooking was really good, and +it was evident that the tired woman had been on her feet all her +life to some purpose. Almost every one was hungry, and the contrast +to the cold meats, and the hard rocks, and the disjointed apparatus +of the noonday meal, was very favorable.</p> +<p>Richard had put me between himself and Benny, and he watched my +undiminished supper with disapprobation: but I do not believe he +ate much more himself. He put everything that he thought I might +like, before me, silently: and I think the tired woman (who was +waitress as well as cook), must have groaned over the frequent +changing of my plate.</p> +<p>"Do not take any more of that," he said, as I put out my hand +for another cup of coffee.</p> +<p>"Well, what shall I take?" I exclaimed peevishly. But indeed I +did not mean to be peevish, nor did I know quite what I said, I was +so miserable. Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some +question of Sophie; who was quite revived.</p> +<p>Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, +and a young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders.</p> +<p>It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies +from the house. After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the +smoking there was to be dancing. The preparations for the dancing +created a good deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time. +Kilian and young Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play +for them. When he came, he had to be instructed as to the style of +music to be furnished, and the rasping and scraping of that +miserable instrument put me beside myself with nervousness. Then +the "ball-room" had to be aired and lighted; then the negro's music +was found to be incompatible with modern movements; even a waltz +was proved impossible, and nobody would consent to remember a +quadrille but Richard. So they had to fall back upon Virginia +reels, and everybody was made to dance.</p> +<p>The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given. He +turned to me languidly, and offered me his hand.</p> +<p>"No," I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, +"You will excuse me, won't you?"</p> +<p>He said, with grave philosophy, "I really think it will seem +shorter than if we were looking on."</p> +<p>I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him. And +what a dance it was! The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of +the room, the asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the +little platform by the door: the amused faces looking in at the +open windows: the romping, well-dressed, pretty women: the handsome +men who were trying to act like clowns: the noise of laughing and +the calling out of the figures: all this, I am sure, I never shall +forget. And, strange to say, I somewhat enjoyed it after all. The +coffee had stimulated me: the music was merry: I was reckless, and +my companions were full of glee. Even the <i>ennuyé</i> +skipped up and down the room like a school-boy: I never shall +forget Richard's happy and relieved expression, when I laughed +aloud at somebody's amusing blunder.</p> +<p>Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were +getting ready to go home. It was a good deal after ten o'clock, and +the night was cold. There were not quite shawls enough, no +preparations having been made for staying out after dark. Richard +went up to Sophie (I was standing out by the steps to be ready the +moment the carriages should come), and I heard him negotiating with +her for a shawl for me. She was quite impatient and peremptory, +though <i>sotto voce</i>. The children needed both her extra ones, +and there was an end of it.</p> +<p>I did not care at all, and feeling warm with dancing, did not +dread what I had not yet felt. I pulled my light cloak around me, +and only longed for the carriage to arrive. But after we had +started and were about forty rods from the door, quite out of the +light of the little tavern, just within a grove of locust-trees +(the moon was under clouds), Richard's voice called out to Kilian +to stop, and coming up to the side of the carriage, said, "Put this +around you, Pauline, you haven't got enough." He put something +around my shoulders which felt very warm and comfortable: I believe +I said, Thank you, though I am not at all sure, and Kilian drove on +rapidly.</p> +<p>By-and-by, when I began to feel a little chilly, I drew it +together round my throat: the air was like November, and, August +though it was, there was a white frost that night. I was frightened +when I found what I had about my shoulders. It was Richard's coat. +I called to Kilian to stop a moment, I wanted to speak to Richard. +But when we stopped, the carriage in which he was to drive was just +behind us--and some one in it said, Richard had walked. He had not +come back after he ran out to speak to us--must have struck across +the fields and gone ahead. And Richard walked home, five miles, +that night! the only way to save himself from the deadly chill of +the keen air, without his coat.</p> +<p>When we drove into the gate, at home, I stooped eagerly forward +to get a sight of the house through the trees. There was a light +burning in the room over mine: that was all I wanted to know, and +with a sigh of relief I sank back.</p> +<p>When we went into the hall, I remembered to hang Richard's coat +upon a rack there, and then ran to my room. I could not get any +news of Mr. Langenau, and could not hear how the day had gone with +him: could only take the hope that the sight of the little lamp +conveyed.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV."></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +<h3>I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Go on, go on:<br> +Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved<br> +All tongues to talk their bitterest.<br> +<br> +<i>Winter's Tale</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Of course, the night was entirely sleepless after such, a day. I +was over-tired, and the coffee would have been fatal to rest in any +case. I tossed about restlessly till three o'clock, and then fell +into a heavy sleep.</p> +<p>The sun was shining into the room, and I heard the voices of +people on the lawn when I awoke. When I went down, after a hurried +and nervous half-hour of dressing, I found the morning, apparently, +half gone, and the breakfast-table cleared.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton, with a croquet mallet in her hand, was following +Kilian through the hall to get a drink of water. She made a great +outcry at me and my appearance.</p> +<p>"What a headache you must have," she cried. "But ah! think what +you've missed, dear! The tutor has been down at breakfast, or +rather at the breakfast-table, for he didn't eat a thing. He is a, +little paler than he was at dinner day before yesterday--and he's +gone up-stairs; and we've voted that we hope he'll stay there, for +he depresses us just to look at him."</p> +<p>And then, with an unmeaning laugh, she tripped on after Kilian +to get that drink of water, which was nothing but a ticket for a +moment's <i>tête-à-tête</i> away from the +croquet party. Richard had seen me by this time, and came in and +asked how I felt, and rang the bell in the dining-room, and ordered +my breakfast brought. He did not exactly stay and watch it, but he +came in and out of the dining-room enough times to see that I had +everything that was dainty and nice (and to see, alas! that I could +not eat it); for that piece of news from Mary Leighton had levelled +me with the ground again.</p> +<p>That I had missed seeing him was too cruel, and that he looked +so ill; how could I bear it?</p> +<p>After my breakfast was taken away, I went into the hall, and sat +down on the sofa between the parlor doors. Pretty soon the people +came in from the croquet ground, talking fiercely about a game in +which Kilian and Mary had been cheating. Charlotte Benson was quite +angry, and Charley, who had played with her, was enraged. I thought +they were such, fools to care, and Richard looked as if he thought +they were all silly children. The day was warm and close, such a +contrast to the day before. The sudden cold had broken down into a +sultry August atmosphere. The sun, which had been bright an hour +ago, was becoming obscured, and the sky was grayish. Every one felt +languid. We were all sitting about the hall, idly, when a servant +brought a note. It was an invitation; that roused them all--and for +to-day. There was no time to lose.</p> +<p>The Lowders had sent to ask us all to a croquet party there at +four o'clock.</p> +<p>"What an hour!" cried Sophie, who was tired; "I should think +they might have let us get rested from the picnic."</p> +<p>But Charlotte and Henrietta were so much charmed at the prospect +of seeing so soon the Frenchman and the young devoted Lowder, that +they listened to no criticism on the hour or day.</p> +<p>"How nice!" they said, "we shall get there a little before +five--play for a couple of hours--then have tea on the lawn, +perhaps--a little dance, and home by moonlight." It was a ravishing +prospect for their unemployed imaginations, and they left no time +in rendering their answer.</p> +<p>For myself, I had taken a firm resolve. I would never repeat the +misery of yesterday; nothing should persuade me to go with them, +but I would manage it so that I should be free from every one, even +Richard.</p> +<p>Croquet parties are great occasions for pretty costumes; all +this was talked over. What should I wear? Oh, my gray grenadine, +with the violet trimmings, and a gray hat with violet velvet and +feather.</p> +<p>"You have everything so perfect for that suit," said Mary +Leighton, in a tone of envy. "Cravat and parasol and gloves of just +the shade of violet."</p> +<p>"And gray boots," I said. "It <i>is</i> a pretty suit." No one +but Sophie had such expensive clothes as I, but I cannot say at +that moment they made me very happy. I was only thinking how +improbable that the gray suit would come out of the box that day, +unless I should be obliged to dress to mislead the others till the +last.</p> +<p>The carriages (for we filled two), were to be at the door at +four o'clock punctually. The Lowders were five miles away: the +whole thing was so talked about and planned about, that when dinner +was over, I felt we had had a croquet party, and quite a long one +at that.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau did not come to dinner; Sophie sent a servant to +his room after we were at table, to ask him if he would come down, +or have his dinner sent to him; but the servant came back, saying +he did not want any dinner, with his compliments to Mrs. +Hollenbeck.</p> +<p>"<i>À la bonne heure</i>" cried Kilian. "A skeleton +always interferes with my appetite at a feast."</p> +<p>"It is the only thing, then, that does, isn't it?" asked +Charlotte, who seemed to have a pick at him always.</p> +<p>"No, not the only thing. There is one other--just one +other."</p> +<p>"And, for the sake of science, what is that?"</p> +<p>"A woman with a sharp tongue, Miss Charlotte.--Sophie, I don't +think much of these last soups. Your famous cook's degenerating, +take my word."</p> +<p>And so on, while Charlotte colored, and was silent through the +meal. She knew her tongue was sharp; she knew that she was +self-willed and was not humble. But she had not taken herself in +hand, religiously; to take one's self in hand morally, or on +grounds of expediency, never amounts to much; and such taking in +hand was all that Charlotte had as yet attempted. In a little +passion of self-reproach and mortification, she occasionally lopped +off ugly shoots; but the root was still vigorous and lusty, and +only grew the better for its petty pruning. Richard looked very +much displeased at his brother's rudeness, and tried to make up for +it by great kindness and attention.</p> +<p>About this time I had become aware of what were Sophie's plans +for Richard. In case he must marry (to be cured of me), he was to +marry Charlotte, who was so capable, so sensible, of so good +family, so much indebted to Sophie, and so decidedly averse to +living in the country. Sophie saw herself still mistress here, +with, to be sure, a shortened income, and Richard and his wife +spending a few weeks with her in the summer. I do not know how far +Charlotte entered into these plans. Probably not at all, +consciously; but I became aware that, as a little girl, Richard had +been her hero; and he did not seem to have been displaced by any +one entirely yet. But I took a very faint interest in all this. I +should have cared, probably, if I had seen Richard devoted to her. +He seemed to belong to me, and I should have resented any +interference with my rights. But I did not dread any. I knew, +though I took little pleasure in the knowledge, that he loved me +with all his good and manly heart; and it never seemed a +possibility that he could change.</p> +<p>The simple selfishness of young women in these matters is +appalling. Richard was mine by right of conquest, and I owed him no +gratitude for the service of his life. That other was the lord who +had the right inalienable over me. I bent myself in the dust before +him. I would have taken shame itself as an honor from his hands. I +thought of him day and night. I filled my soul with passionate +admiration for his good deeds, his ill deeds, his all. And the +other was as the ground beneath my feet, of which I seldom +thought.</p> +<p>Richard met me at the foot of the stairs, after dinner, as I was +going up.</p> +<p>"Pauline, will you go in the carriage with Charlotte and Sophie? +I am going to drive."</p> +<p>"Oh, it doesn't make any difference," I answered, with +confusion. "Anywhere you choose."</p> +<p>I think he had misgivings about my going from that moment; to +allay which, I called out something about my costume to Sophie as I +went up to my room. The day was growing duller, and stiller, and +grayer. I sat by the window and watched the leaden river. It was +like an afternoon in September, before the chill of the autumn has +come. Not a leaf moved upon the trees, not a cloud crept over the +sky. It was all one dim, gray, gloomy stillness overhead. I +wondered if they would have rain. <i>They</i>, not I, for I was +going to stay at home, and before they came back I should have seen +him. I said that over and over to myself with bated breath, and +cheeks that burned like flame. Every step that passed my door made +me start guiltily. Once, when some one knocked, I pulled out my +gray dress, and flung it on the bed, before I answered.</p> +<p>It was approaching four o'clock. I undressed myself rapidly, put +on a dressing-sack, and threw myself upon the bed. What should I +say when they came for me? They could not <i>make</i> me go. I felt +very brave. At last the carriages drove up to the door. I crept to +the window to see if any one was ready. While I was watching +through the half-closed blinds, some one crossed the piazza. My +heart gave a great leap, and then every pulse stood still. It was +Mr. Langenau. His step was slower than it used to be, and, I +thought, a little faltering. He crossed the road, and took the path +that led through the grove and garden to the river. He had a book +under his arm; he must be going to the boat-house to sit there and +read. My heart gave such an ecstasy of life to my veins at the +thought, that for a moment I felt sick and faint, as I drew back +from the window.</p> +<p>I threw myself on the bed as some one knocked. It was a servant +to tell me they were ready. I sent word to Mrs. Hollenbeck that I +was not well, and should not be able to go with them. Then I lay +still and waited in much trepidation for the second knock. I heard +in a few moments the rustle of Sophie's dress outside. She was not +pleased at all. She could scarcely be polite. But then everything +looked very plausible. There lay my dress upon the bed, as if I had +begun to dress, and I was pale and trembling, and I am sure must +have looked ill enough to have convinced her that I spoke the +truth.</p> +<p>She made some feeble offer to stay and take care of me. "Oh, +pray don't," I cried, too eagerly, I am afraid. And then she said +her maid should come and stay with me, for the children were going +with them, and there would be nothing for her to do. I stammered +thanks, and then she went away. I did not dare to move till after I +had heard both carriages drive off, and all voices die away in the +distance.</p> +<p>Bettina came to the door, and was sent away with thanks. Then I +began to dress myself with very trembling hands. This was new work +to me, this horrible deception. But all remorse for that, was +swallowed up in the one engrossing thought and desire which had +usurped my soul for the days just passed.</p> +<p>It was a full half-hour before I was ready, my hands shook so +unaccountably, and I could scarcely find the things I wanted to put +on. When I went to the door I could hardly turn the key, I felt so +weak, and I stood in the passage many minutes before I dared go on. +If any one had appeared or spoken to me, I am quite sure I should +have fainted, my nerves were in such a shaken state.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI."></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<h3>AUGUST THIRTIETH.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Were Death so unlike Sleep,<br> +Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame, or steel,<br> +Or poison doubtless; but from water--feel!<br> +<br> +<i>Robert Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>I met no one in the hall or on the piazza. The house was silent +and deserted: one of the maids was closing the parlor windows. She +did not look at me with any surprise, for she had not probably +heard that I was ill.</p> +<p>Once in the open air I felt stronger. I took the river-path, and +walked quickly, feeling freed from a nightmare: and my mind was +filled with one thought. "In a few moments I shall be beside him, I +shall make him look at me, he cannot help but touch my hand." I did +not think of past or future, only of the greedy, passionate +present. My infatuation was at its height. I cannot imagine a +passion more absorbing, more unresisted, and more dangerous. I +passed quickly through the garden without even noticing the flowers +that brushed against my dress.</p> +<p>As I reached the grove I thought for one instant of the morning +that he had met me here, just where the paths intersected. At that +moment I heard a step; and full of that hope, with a quick thrill, +I glanced in the direction of the sound. There, not ten yards from +me, coming from the opposite direction, was Richard. I felt a shock +of disappointment, then fear, then anger. What right had he to dog +me so? He looked at me without surprise, but as if his heart was +full of bitterness and sorrow. He approached, and turned as if to +walk with me.</p> +<p>"I want to be alone," I said angrily, moving away from him.</p> +<p>"No, Pauline," he answered with a sigh, as he turned from me, +"you do not want to be alone."</p> +<p>Full of shame and anger, and jarred with the shock and fear, I +went on more slowly. The wood was so silent--the river through the +trees lay so still and leaden. If it had not been for the fire +burning in my heart, I could have thought the world was dead.</p> +<p>There was not a sound but my own steps; should I soon meet him, +would he be sitting in his old seat by the boat-house door, or +would he be wandering along the dead, still river-bank? What should +I say to him? O! he would speak. If he saw me he would have to +speak.</p> +<p>I soon forgot that I had met Richard, that I had been angry; and +again I had but this one thought.</p> +<p>The pine cones were slippery under my feet. I held by the old +trees as I went down the bank, step by step. I had to turn and pass +a clump of trees before I reached the boat-house door.</p> +<p>I was there! With a beating heart I stepped up on the threshold. +There were two doors, one that opened on the path, one that opened +on the river. The house was empty. I had a little sinking pang of +disappointment, but I passed on to the door looking out on the +river. By this door was a seat, empty, but on this lay a book and a +straw hat. I could feel the hot blushes cover my face, my neck, as +I caught sight of these. I stooped down, feeling guilty, and took +up the book. It was a book which he had read daily to me in our +lesson-hours. It had his name on the blank page, and was full of +his pencil-marks. I meant to ask him to give me this book; I would +rather have it than anything the world held, when I should be +parted from him. <i>When!</i> I sat down on the seat beside the +door, with the book lying in my lap, the straw hat on the bench. I +longed to take it in my hands--to wreathe it with the clematis that +grew about the door, as I had done one foolish, happy afternoon, +not three weeks ago. But with a strange inconsistency, I dared not +touch it; my face grew hot with blushes as I thought of it.</p> +<p>How should I meet him? Now that the moment I had longed for had +arrived, I wondered that I had dared to long for it. I felt that if +I heard his step, I should fly and hide myself from him. The +recollection of that last interview in the library--which I had +lived over and over, nights and days, incessantly, since then, came +back with fresh force, fresh vehemence. But no step approached me, +all was silent; it began to impress me strangely, and I looked +about me. I don't know at what moment it was, my eye fell upon the +trace of footsteps on the bank, and then on the mark of the boat +dragged along the sand; a little below the boat-house it had been +pushed off into the water.</p> +<p>I started to my feet, and ran down to the water's edge (at the +boat-house the trees had been in the way of my seeing the river any +distance).</p> +<p>I stood still, the water lapping faintly on the sand at my feet; +it was hardly a sound. I looked out on the unruffled lead-colored +river: there, about quarter of a mile from the bank, the boat was +lying: empty --motionless. The oars were floating a few rods from +her, drifting slowly, slowly, down the stream.</p> +<p>The sight seemed to turn my warm blood and blushes into ice: +even before I had a distinct impression of what I feared, I was +benumbed. But it did not take many moments for the truth, or a +dread of it, to reach my brain.</p> +<p>I covered my eyes with my hands, then sprang up the bank and +called wildly.</p> +<p>My voice was like a madwoman's, and it must have sounded far on +that still air. In less than a moment Richard came hurrying with +great strides down the path. I sprang to him, and caught his arm +and dragged him to the water's edge.</p> +<p>"Look," I whispered--pointing to the hat and book--and then out +to the boat. I read his face in terror. It grew slowly, deadly +white.</p> +<p>"My God!" he said in a tone of awe. Then shaking me from him, +sprang up the bank, and his voice was something fearful as he +shouted, as he ran, for help.</p> +<p>There were men laboring, two or three fields off. I don't know +how long it took them to get to him, nor how long to get a boat out +on the water, nor what boat it was. I know they had ropes and +poles, and that they were talking in eager, hurried voices, as they +passed me.</p> +<p>I sat on the steps that led down the bank, clinging to the low +railing with my hands: I had sunk down because my strength had +given way all at once, and I felt as if everything were rocking and +surging under me. Sometimes everything was black before me, and +then again I could see plainly the wide expanse of the river, the +wide expanse of the gray sky, and between them--the empty, +motionless boat, and the floating oars beyond upon the tide.</p> +<p>The voices of the men, and the splashing of the water, when at +last they were launched and pulling away from shore, made a +ringing, frightful noise in my head. I watched till I saw them +reach the boat--till I saw one of them get over in it. Then while +they groped about with ropes and poles, and lashed their boats +together, and leaned over and gazed down into the water, I watched +in a strange, benumbed state.</p> +<p>But, by-and-by, there were some exclamations--a stir, and effort +of strength. I saw them pulling in the ropes with combined +movement. I saw them leaning over the side of the boat, nearest the +shore, and together trying to lift something heavy over into it. I +saw the water dripping as they raised it--and then I think I must +have swooned. For I knew nothing further till I heard Richard's +voice, and, raising my head, saw him leaping from the boat upon the +bank. The other boat was further out, and was approaching slowly. I +stood up as he came to me, and held by the railing.</p> +<p>"I want you to go up to the house," he said, gently, "there can +be no good in your staying here."</p> +<p>"I will stay," I cried, everything coming back to me. "I +will--will see him."</p> +<p>"There is no hope, Pauline," he said, in a quick voice, for the +boat was very near the bank, "or very little--and you must not +stay. Everything shall be done that can be done. I will do all. But +you must not stay."</p> +<p>"I will," I said, frantically, trying to burst past him. He +caught my arms and turned me toward the boat-house, and led me +through it, out into the path that went up to the grove.</p> +<p>"Go home," he said, in a voice I never shall forget. "You shall +not make a spectacle for these men. I have promised you I will do +all. Mind you obey me strictly, and go up to your room and wait +there till I come."</p> +<p>I don't know how I got there. I believe Bettina found me at the +entrance to the garden, and helped me to the house, and put me on +my bed.</p> +<p>An hour passed--perhaps more--and such an hour! (for I was not +for a moment unconscious, after this, only deadly faint and weak), +and then Richard came. The door was a little open, and he pushed it +back and came in, and stood beside the bed.</p> +<p>I suppose the sight of me, so broken and spoiled by suffering, +overcame him, for he stooped down suddenly, and kissed me, and then +did not speak for a moment.</p> +<p>At last he said, in a voice not quite steady, "I didn't mean to +be hard on you, Pauline. But you know I had to do it."</p> +<p>"And there isn't any--any--" I gasped for the words, and could +hardly speak.</p> +<p>"No, none, Pauline," he said, keeping my hand in his. "The +doctors have just gone away. It was all no use."</p> +<p>"Tell me about it," I whispered.</p> +<p>"About what?" he said, looking troubled.</p> +<p>"About how it happened."</p> +<p>"Nobody can tell," he answered, averting his face. "We can only +conjecture about some things. Don't try to think about it. Try to +rest."</p> +<p>"How does he look?" I whispered, clinging to his hand.</p> +<p>"Just the same as ever; more quiet, perhaps," he answered, +looking troubled.</p> +<p>I gave a sort of gasp, but did not cry. I think he was +frightened, for he said, uneasily, "Let me call Bettina; she can +give you something--she can sit beside you."</p> +<p>I shook my head, and said, faintly, "Don't let her come."</p> +<p>"I have sent for Sophie," he said, soothingly. "She will soon be +here, and will know what to do for you."</p> +<p>"Keep her out of this room," I cried, half raising myself, and +then falling back from sudden faintness. "Don't let her come +<i>near</i> me," I panted, after a moment, "nor any of them, but, +most of all, Sophie; remember--don't let her even look at me;" and +with moaning, I turned my face down on the pillow. I had taken in +about a thousandth fraction of my great calamity by that time. +Every moment was giving to me some additional possession of it.</p> +<p>Some one at that instant called Richard, in that subdued tone +that people use about a house in which there is one dead.</p> +<p>"I have got to go," he said, uneasily. I still kept hold of his +hand. "But I will come back before very long; and I will tell +Bettina to bring a chair and sit outside your door, and not let any +one come in."</p> +<p>"That will do," I said, letting go his hand, "only I don't want +my door shut tight."</p> +<p>I felt as if the separation were not so entire, so tremendous, +while I could hear what was going on below, and know that no door +was shut between us--no door! Bettina, in a moment more, had taken +up her station in the passage-way outside.</p> +<p>I heard people coming and going quietly through the hall below. +I heard doors softly shut and opened.</p> +<p>I knew, by some intuition, that <i>he</i> was lying in the +library. They moved furniture with a smothered sound; and when I +heard two or three men sent off on messages by Richard, even the +horses' hoofs seemed to be muffled as they struck the ground. This +was the effect of the coming in of death into busy, household life. +I had never been under the roof with it before.</p> +<p>About dusk a servant came to the door, with a tray of tea and +something to eat, that Mr. Richard had sent her with.</p> +<p>"No," I said, "don't leave it here."</p> +<p>But, in a few moments, Richard himself brought it back. I can +well imagine how anxious and unhappy he felt. He had, perhaps, +never before had charge of any one ill or in trouble, and this was +a strange experience.</p> +<p>"You must eat something, Pauline," he said. "I want you to. Sit +up, and take this tea."</p> +<p>I was not inclined to dispute his will, but raised my head, and +drank the tea, and ate a few mouthfuls of the biscuit. But that +made me too ill, and I put the plate away from me.</p> +<p>"I am very sorry," I said, meekly, "but I can't eat it. I feel +as if it choked me."</p> +<p>He seemed touched with my submissiveness, and, giving Bettina +the tray, stood looking down at me as if he did not know how to say +something that was in his mind. Suddenly my ear, always quick, now +exaggeratedly so, caught sound of carriage-wheels. I started up and +cried, "They are coming," and hid my face in my hands.</p> +<p>"Don't be troubled," he said, "you shall not be disturbed."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I exclaimed, as he was going away, after another +undecided movement as if to speak, "you know what I want."</p> +<p>"Yes, I know," he said, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"And now they're come, I cannot. They will see him, and I +cannot."</p> +<p>"Be patient. I will arrange for you to go. Don't, don't, +Pauline."</p> +<p>For I was in a sort of spasm, though no tears came, and my sobs +were more like the gasps of a person being suffocated, than like +one in grief.</p> +<p>"If you will only be quiet, I will take you down, after a few +hours, when they are all gone to their rooms. Pauline, you'll kill +me; don't do so--Pauline, they'll hear you. Try not to do so; +that's right--lie down and try to quiet yourself, poor child. I +can't bear to go away; but there is Sophie on the stairs."</p> +<p>He had scarcely time to reach the hall before Sophie burst upon +him with almost a shriek.</p> +<p>"What is this horrible affair, Richard? What a terrible disgrace +and scandal! we never shall get over it. Will it get in the papers, +do you think? I am so ill--I have been in such a state since the +news came. Such a drive home as this has been! Oh, Richard, tell me +all about it quickly. Where is Pauline? how does she bear it?" +making for my door.</p> +<p>Richard put out his hand and stopped her. I had sprung up from +the bed, and stood, trembling violently, at the further extremity +of the room. I do not know what I meant to do if she came in, for I +was almost beside myself at that moment.</p> +<p>She was persistent, angry, agitated. How well I knew the +curiosity that made her so intent to gain admission to me. It was +not so much that I dreaded being a spectacle, as the horror and +hatred I felt at being approached by her coldness and hypocrisy, +while I was so sore and wounded. I was hardly responsible; I don't +think I could have borne the touch of her hand.</p> +<p>But Richard saved me, and sent her away angry. I crept back to +the bed, and lay down on it again. I heard the others whispering as +they passed through the hall. Mary Leighton was crying; Charlotte +was silent. I don't think I heard her voice at all.</p> +<p>After a long while I heard them go down, and go into the +dining-room. They spoke in very subdued tones, and there was only +the slightest movement of china and silver, to indicate that a meal +was going on. But this seemed to give me a more frantic sense of +change than anything else. I flung myself across the bed, and +another of those dreadful, tearless spasms seized me. +Everything--all life--was going on just the same; even in this very +house they were eating and drinking as they ate and drank +before--the very people who had talked with him this day; the very +table at which he had sat this morning. Oh! they were so heartless +and selfish: every one was; life itself was. I did not know where +to turn for comfort. I had a feeling of dreading every one, of +shrinking away from every one.</p> +<p>"Oh!" I said to myself, "if Richard is with them at the table, I +never want to see him again."</p> +<p>But Richard was not with them. In a moment or two he came to the +door, only to ask me if I wanted anything, and to say he would come +back by-and-by.</p> +<p>There was a question which I longed so frantically to ask him, +but which I dared not; my life seemed to hang on the answer. +<i>When were they going to take him away?</i> I had heard something +about trains and carriages, and I had a wild dread that it was soon +to be.</p> +<p>I went to the door and called Richard back, and made him +understand what I wanted to know. He looked troubled, and said in a +low tone,</p> +<p>"At four o'clock we go from here to meet the earliest train. I +have telegraphed his friends, and have had an answer. I am going +down myself, and it is all arranged in the best way, I think. Go +and lie down now, Pauline; I will come and take you down soon as +the house is quiet."</p> +<p>Richard went away unconscious of the stab his news had given me. +I had not counted on anything so sudden as this parting. While he +was in the house, while I was again to look upon his face, the end +had not come; there was a sort of hope, though only a hope of +suffering, something to look forward to, before black monotony +began its endless day.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII."></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +<h3>BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>There are blind ways provided, the foredone<br> +Heart-weary player in this pageant world<br> +Drops out by, letting the main masque defile<br> +By the conspicuous portal.<br> +<br> +<i>R. Browning</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +What is this world? What asken men to have?<br> +Now with his love--now in his cold grave--<br> +Alone, withouten any companie!<br> +<br> +<i>Chaucer</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The tall old clock, which stood by the dining-room door, had +struck two, and been silent many minutes, before Richard came to +me. I had spent those dreadful hours in feverish restlessness: my +room seemed suffocating to me. I had walked about, had put away my +trinkets, I had changed my dress, and put on a white one which I +had worn in the morning, and had tried to braid my hair.</p> +<p>The quieting of the house, it seemed, would never come. It was +twelve o'clock before any one came up-stairs. I heard one door +after another shut, and then sat waiting and wondering why Richard +did not come, till the moments seemed to grow to centuries. At last +I heard him at the door, and I went toward it trembling, and +followed him into the hall. He carried a light, for up-stairs it +was all dark, and when we reached the stairway, he took my hand to +lead me. I was trembling very much; the hall below was dimly lit by +a large lamp which had been turned low. Our steps on the bare +staircase made so much noise, though we tried to move so silently. +It was weird and awful. I clung to Richard's hand in silence. He +led me across the hall, and stopped before the library-door. He let +go my hand, and taking a key from his pocket, put it in the lock, +turned it slowly, then opened the door a little way, and motioned +me to enter.</p> +<p>Like one in a trance, I obeyed him, and went in alone. He shut +the door noiselessly, and left me with the dead.</p> +<p>That was the great, the immense hour of my life. No vicissitude, +no calamity of this mortal state, no experience that may be to +come, can ever have the force, the magnitude of this. All feelings, +but a child's feelings, were comparatively new to me, and here, at +one moment, I had put into my hand the plummet that sounded hell; +anguish, remorse, fear--a woman's heart in hopeless pain. For I +will not believe that any child, that any woman, had ever loved +more absolutely, more passionately, than I had loved the man who +lay there dead before me. But I cannot talk about what I felt in +those moments; all that concerns what I write is the external.</p> +<p>The--coffin was in the middle of the room, where the table +ordinarily stood--where my chair had been that night, when he told +me his story. Surely if I sinned, in thought, in word, <i>that</i> +night, I paid its full atonement, <i>this</i>. Candles stood on a +small table at the head of where he lay, and many flowers were +about the room. The smell of verbena-leaves filled the air: a +branch of them was in a vase that some one had put beside his +coffin. The fresh, cool night-air came in from the large window, +open at the top.</p> +<p>His face was, as Richard said, much as in life, only quieter. I +do not know what length of time Richard left me there, but at last, +I was recalled to the present, by his hand upon my shoulder, and +his voice in a whisper, "Come with me now, Pauline."</p> +<p>I rose to my feet, hardly understanding what he said, but +resisted when I did understand him.</p> +<p>"Come with me," he said, gently, "You shall come back again and +say good-bye. Only come out into the hall and stay awhile with me; +it is not good for you to be here so long."</p> +<p>He took my hand and led me out, shutting the door noiselessly. +He took me across the hall, and into the parlor, where there was no +light, except what came in from the hall. There was a sofa opposite +the door, and to that he led me, standing himself before me, with +his perplexed and careworn face. I was very silent for some time: +all that awful time in the library, I had never made a sound: but +suddenly, some thought came that reached the source of my tears, +and I burst into a passion of weeping. I am not sure what it was: I +think, perhaps, the sight of the piano, and the recollection of +that magnificent voice that would never be heard again, Whatever it +was, I bless it, for I think it saved my brain. I threw myself down +upon the sofa, and clung to Richard's hand, and sobbed, and sobbed, +and sobbed.</p> +<p>Poor fellow! my tears seemed to shake him terribly. Once he +turned away, and drew his hand across his brow, as if it were a +little more than he could bear. But some men, like many women, are +born to sacrifice.</p> +<p>He tried to comfort and soothe me with broken words. But what +was there to say?</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, "What does it all mean? why am I so +punished? was it so very wicked to have loved him after I knew all? +Was all this allowed to come because I did that? Answer me, tell +me; tell me what you think."</p> +<p>"No, Pauline, I don't think that was it. Don't talk about it +now. Try to be quiet. You are not fit to think about it now."</p> +<p>"But, Richard, what else can it mean? I know, I know that it is +the truth. God wouldn't have sent such a punishment upon me if he +hadn't seen my sin."</p> +<p>"It's more likely He sent it to--" and then he paused.</p> +<p>I know now he meant, it was more likely He had sent it to save +me from the sins of others; but he had the holy charity not to say +it.</p> +<p>"Oh," I cried, passionately, "When all the sin was mine, that he +should have had to die: when he never came near me, never looked at +me: when he would rather die than break his word to me. That night +in the library, after he had told me all, he said, 'I will never +look into your eyes again, I will never touch your hand;' and +though we were in the same room together after that, and in the +same house all this time, and though he knew I loved him so--he +never looked at me, he never turned his eyes upon me; and I--I was +willing to sin for him--to die for him. I would have followed him +to the ends of the earth, not twelve hours ago."</p> +<p>"Hush, Pauline," said Richard huskily, "you don't know what +you're saying--you are a child."</p> +<p>"No, I'm not a child--after to-day, after to-night--I am not a +child--and I know too well what I say--too well--too well. Richard, +you don't know what has been in my heart. That night, he held me in +his arms and kissed me--when he said good-bye. Then I was innocent, +for I was dazed by grief and had not come to my senses, after what +he told me. But to-day I said--<i>to-day</i>--to have his arms +around me once again--to have him kiss me once again as he kissed +me then--I would go away from all I ever had been taught of right +and duty, and would be satisfied."</p> +<p>"Then, thank God for what has come," said Richard, hoarsely, +wiping from his forehead the great drops that had broken out upon +it.</p> +<p>"No!" I cried with a fresh burst of weeping. "No, I cannot thank +God, for I want him back again. <i>I want him</i>. I had rather die +than be separated from him. I cannot thank God for taking him away +from me. Oh, Richard, what shall I do? I loved him, loved him so. +Don't look so stern; don't turn away from me. You used to love me. +Could you thank God for taking me away from you, out of your arms, +warm, and strong, and living, and making me cold, and dumb, and +stiff, like <i>that</i>?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, if it had been to save us both from sin."</p> +<p>"You don't know what love is, if you say that."</p> +<p>"I know what sin is, better than you do, maybe. Listen, Pauline. +I've loved you ever since I saw you; men don't often love better +than I have loved you; but I'd rather drag you, to-night, to that +black river there, and hold you down with my own hands till the +breath left your body, than see you turn into a sinful woman, and +lead the life of shame you tell me you had it in your heart to +lead, to-day."</p> +<p>"Is it so very awful?" I whispered with a shiver, my own emotion +stilled before his. "I only loved him!"</p> +<p>"Forget you ever did," he said, rising, and pacing up and down +the room.</p> +<p>I put my hands before my face, and felt as if I were alone in +the world with sin. If this unspoken, passionate, sweet thought, +that I had harbored, were so full of danger as to force God to +blast me with such punishment, as to drive this tender, generous, +loving man to wish me dead, what must be the blackness of the sin +from which I had been saved, if I were saved? If there were, +indeed, anything but shocks of woe and punishment, and deadly +despair and darkness, in this strange world in which I found +myself. There was a silence. I rose to my feet. I don't know what I +meant to do or where to go; my only impulse was to hide myself from +the eyes of my companion, and to go away from him, as I had hidden +myself from all others, since I was smitten with this +chastisement.</p> +<p>"Forgive me, Pauline," he said, coming to my side. "It is the +second time I have been harsh with you this dreadful day. This is +what comes of selfishness. I hope you will forget what I have +said."</p> +<p>I still turned to go away, feeling afraid of him and ashamed +before him. He put out his hand to stop me.</p> +<p>"Pauline, remember, I have been sorely tried. I would do +anything to comfort you. I haven't another wish in my heart but to +be of use to you."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, bursting into tears afresh, and hiding +my eyes, "if you give me up and drive me away from you, I am all +alone. There isn't another human being that I love or that cares +for me. Dear Richard, do be good to me; do be sorry for me."</p> +<p>"I am sorry for you, Pauline; you know that."</p> +<p>"And you will take care of me?" I cried, stretching out my arms +toward him, with a sudden overwhelming sense of my loneliness and +destitution.</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, to the end of my life or of yours; as if you were +my sister or almost my child."</p> +<p>"Dear Richard," I whispered, as I buried my face on his arm, "if +it were not for you I should not live through this dreadful time. I +hope I shall die soon; as soon as I am better. But till I do die, I +hope you will be good to me, and love me." And I pressed his hand +against my cheek and lips, like the poor, frantic, grief-bewildered +child that I was.</p> +<p>At this moment there came a sound of movement in the stables: I +heard one of the heavy doors thrown open, and a man leading a horse +across the stable-floor. (The windows were open and the night was +very still.) Richard started, and looked uneasily at his watch, +stepping to the door to get the light.</p> +<p>"How late is it?" I faltered.</p> +<p>"Half-past three," he said, turning his eyes away, as if he +could not bear the sight of my face. I do not like to remember the +dreadful moments that followed this: the misery that I put upon +Richard by my passionate, ungoverned grief. I threw myself upon the +floor, I clung to his knees, I prayed him to delay the hour of +going--another hour, another day. I said all the wild and frantic +things that were in my heart, as he closed the library-door and led +me to my room.</p> +<p>"Try to say your prayers, Pauline," was all he could answer +me.</p> +<p>I did try to say them, as I knelt by the window, and saw in the +dull, gray dawn, those two carriages drive slowly from the +door.</p> +<p>Richard went away alone. Kilian indeed came down-stairs just as +he was starting.</p> +<p>Sophie had awakened, and called him into her room for a few +moments.</p> +<p>Then he came down, and I saw him get into the carriage alone, +and motion the man to drive on, after that other--which stood +waiting a few rods farther on.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII."></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +<h3>A JOURNEY.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>He, full of modesty and truth,<br> +Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought.<br> +<br> +<i>Tasso</i>.<br> +<br> +Fresh grief can occupy itself<br> + With its own recent smart;<br> +It feeds itself on outward things,<br> + And not on its own heart.<br> +<br> +<i>Faber</i></blockquote> +<br> +<p>A thing which surprises me very much in looking over those days +of suffering, is, that during that day a frightful irritability is +the emotion that I most remember--an irritability of feeling, not +of expression: for I lay quite still upon the bed all day, and only +answered, briefly and simply, the questions of Sophie and the +maid.</p> +<p>I could not sleep: it was many hours since I had slept: but +nothing seemed further from possibility than sleeping. The lightest +sound enraged my nerves: the approach of any one made me frantic. I +lay with my hands crushed together, and my teeth against each +other, whenever Sophie entered the room.</p> +<p>She tried to be sympathetic and kind: but she was not much +encouraged. Toward afternoon, she left me a good deal alone. "I +wonder how people feel when they are going mad," I said, getting up +and putting cold water on my head. I was so engaged with the +strange sensations that pursued me, that I did not dwell upon my +trouble.</p> +<p>"Is this the way you feel when you are going to die? or what +happens if you never go to sleep?" My body was so young and +healthy, that it was making a good fight.</p> +<p>Just at dusk, Richard returned. In a little while, about half an +hour, Sophie came and told me Richard would like to see me in her +little dressing-room.</p> +<p>The day of panic and horror was over, and proprieties must begin +their sway. I felt I hated Sophie for making me go out of my own +room, but I pulled a shawl over my shoulders and followed her +across the hall into her little room. There Richard was waiting for +me. He gave me a chair, and then said, "You needn't wait, Sophie," +and sat down beside me.</p> +<p>Sophie went away half angry, and Richard looked at me +uneasily.</p> +<p>"I thought you'd want to see me," he said.</p> +<p>"Yes," I answered; "I wish you'd tell me everything," but in so +commonplace a voice, I know that he was startled.</p> +<p>"You do not feel well, do you? Maybe we'd better not talk about +it now."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes. You might as well tell me all to-night."</p> +<p>"Well, everything is done. The two persons to whom I telegraphed +met me at the station. There was very little delay. I went with +them to the cemetery."</p> +<p>"I am very glad of that. I thought perhaps you wouldn't go. Was +there a clergyman, or don't they have a clergyman when--when--"</p> +<p>"There was a clergyman," said Richard, briefly.</p> +<p>"I hope you'll take me there some time," I said dreamily. +"Should you know where to go--exactly?"</p> +<p>"Exactly," he answered. "But, Pauline, I am afraid you havn't +rested at all to-day. Have you slept?"</p> +<p>"No; and I wish I could; my head feels so strangely--light, you +know--and as if I couldn't think."</p> +<p>"Haven't you seen the Doctor?"</p> +<p>"No--and that's what I want to say. I <i>won't</i> have the +Doctor here; and I want you to take me home to-morrow morning, +early, I have put a good many of my clothes into my trunk, and +Bettina will help me with the rest to-night. Isn't there any train +before the five o'clock?"</p> +<p>"No," said Richard, uneasily. "Pauline, I think you'd better not +arrange to go away to-morrow."</p> +<p>"If you don't take me out of this house I shall go mad. I have +been thinking about it all day, and I know I shall."</p> +<p>Richard was silent for a moment, then, with the wise instinct of +affection, wonderful in man, and in a man who had had no experience +in dealing with diseased or suffering minds, he acquiesced in my +plan to go; told me that we would take the earliest train, and +interested me in thoughts about my packing. About nine o'clock he +came to my room-door, and I heard some one with him. It was the +Doctor.</p> +<p>I turned upon Richard a fierce look, and said, very quietly, he +might go away, for I would not see the Doctor. After that, they +tried me with Sophie, but with less success; and, finally, Richard +came back alone, with a glass in his hand.</p> +<p>"Take this, Pauline, it will make you sleep."</p> +<p>I wanted to sleep very much, so I took it.</p> +<p>Bettina had finished my packing, and had laid my travelling +dress and hat upon a chair.</p> +<p>"Shall Bettina come and sleep on the floor, by your bed?" asked +Richard, anxiously.</p> +<p>"No, I would not have her for the world."</p> +<p>"Maybe you might not wake in time," said Richard, warily.</p> +<p>That was very true: so I let Bettina come. Richard gave her some +instructions at the door, and she came in and arranged things for +the night, and lay down on a mattress at the foot of my bed.</p> +<p>The sedative which the Doctor sent did not work very well. I had +very little sleep, and that full of such hideous, freezing dreams, +that every time I woke, I found Bettina standing by my bed, looking +at me with alarm. I had been screaming and moaning, she said, The +screaming and moaning and sleeping (such as it was), were all over +in about two hours, and then I had the rest of the night to endure, +with the same strange, light feeling in my head--the restlessness +not much, but somewhat abated.</p> +<p>I was very glad that Bettina was in the room, for though she was +sleepy, and always a little stupid, she was human, and I was a +coward, both in the matter of loneliness and of suffering. I made +her sit by me, and take hold of my hand, and I asked her several +times if she had ever been with any one that died, or that--I did +not quite dare to ask her about going mad.</p> +<p>My questions seemed to trouble her. She crossed herself, and +shuddered, and said, No, she had never been with any one that died, +and she prayed the good God never to let her be.</p> +<p>"You'll have to be with one person that dies, Bettina. That's +yourself. You know it's got to come. We've all got to go out at +that gate," and I moaned, and turned my face away.</p> +<p>"Let me call Mr. Richard," said Bettina, very much afraid. I +would have given all the world to have seen Richard then; but I +knew it was impossible, and I said, No, it would soon be +morning.</p> +<p>Long before morning, I heard Richard up and walking about the +house. We were to leave the house at half-past four. By four, all +the trunks, and shawls, and packages, were strapped and ready, and +I was sitting dressed, and waiting by the window.</p> +<p>Bettina liked very much better to pack trunks, and put rooms in +order, than to sit still and hold a person's hot hands, in the +middle of the night, and have dreadful questions asked her; and she +had been very active and efficient. Soon Richard called her to come +down and take my breakfast up to me. I could not eat it, and it was +taken away. Then the carriage came, and the wagon to take the +baggage. Finally, Richard came, and told me it was time to start, +if I were ready.</p> +<p>Sophie came into the room in a wrapper, looking very dutiful and +patient, and said all that was dutiful and civil. But I suppose I +was a fiery trial to her, and she wished, no doubt, that she had +never seen me, or better, that Richard never had. All this I felt, +through her decently framed good-bye, but I did not care at all; to +be out of her sight as soon as possible, was all that I +requested.</p> +<p>When we went down in the hall, Richard looked anxiously at me, +but I did not feel as if I had ever been there before; I really had +no feeling. I said good-bye to Bettina, who was the only servant +that I saw, and Richard put me into the carriage. When, we drove +away, I did not even look back. As we passed out of the gate, I +said to him, "What day of the month is it to-day?"</p> +<p>"It is the first of September," he returned.</p> +<p>"And when did I come here?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Early in June, was it not?" he said. "You know I was not +here."</p> +<p>"Then it is not three months," and I leaned back wearily in the +carriage, and was silent.</p> +<p>Before we reached the city, Richard had good reason to think +that I was very ill. He made me as comfortable as he could, poor +fellow! but I was so restless, I could not keep in one position two +minutes at a time. Several times I turned to him and said, "It is +suffocating in this car; cannot the window be put up?" and when it +was put up, I would seem to feel no relief, and in a few moments, +perhaps, would be shaking with a nervous chill. It must have been a +miserable journey, as I remember it. Once I said to Richard, after +some useless trouble I had put him to, "I am very sorry, Richard, I +don't know how to help it, I feel so dreadfully."</p> +<p>Richard tried to answer, but his voice was husky, and he bent +his head down to arrange the bundle of shawls beneath my feet. I +knew that there were tears in his eyes, and that that was the +reason that he did not speak. It made me strangely, momentarily +grateful.</p> +<p>"How strange that you should be so good," I said dreamily, "when +Sophie is so hateful, and Kilian is so trifling. I think your +mother must have been a good woman."</p> +<p>I had never talked about Richard's mother before, never even +thought whether he had had one or not, in my supreme and +light-hearted selfishness. But the mind, at such a point as I was +then, makes strange plunges out of its own orbit.</p> +<p>"And she died when you were little?"</p> +<p>"Yes, when I was scarcely twelve years old."</p> +<p>"A woman ought to be very good when it makes so much difference +to her children. Richard, did my uncle ever tell you anything about +my mother--what sort of a woman she was, and whether I am like +her?"</p> +<p>"He never said a great deal to me about it," Richard answered, +not looking at me as he talked. "He thinks you are like her, very +strikingly, I believe."</p> +<p>"Think! I haven't even a scrap of a picture of her, and no one +has ever talked to me about her. All I have are some old yellow +letters to my father, written before I was born. I think she loved +my father very much. The noise of these cars makes me feel so +strangely. Can't we go into the one behind? I am sure it cannot be +so bad."</p> +<p>"This is the best car on the train, Pauline. I know the noise is +very bad, but try to bear it for a little while. We shall soon be +there." And so on, through the weary journey.</p> +<p>At one station Richard got out, and I saw him speaking to +several men. I believe he was hoping to find a doctor, for he was +thoroughly frightened.</p> +<p>Before we reached the city I was past being frightened for +myself, for I was suffering too much to think of what might be the +result of my condition. When we left the cars, and Richard put me +in a carriage, the motion of the carriage and its jarring over the +stones were almost unendurable. Richard was too anxious now to say +much to me. The expression of relief on his face as we reached +Varick-street was unspeakable. He hurried up the steps and rang the +bell, then came back for me, and half carried me up the steps.</p> +<p>The door was opened by Ann Coddle, who was thrown into a +helpless state of amazement by seeing me, not knowing why in this +condition I did come, or why I came at all. She shrieked, and +ejaculated, and backed almost down the basement stairs. Richard +sternly told her she was acting like a fool, and ordered her to +show him where Miss Pauline's room was, that he might take her to +it.</p> +<p>"But her room isn't ready," ejaculated Ann, coming to herself, +which was a wretched thing to come to, as poor Richard found.</p> +<p>"Not ready? well, make it ready, then. Go before me and open the +windows, and I will put her on the sofa till you have the bed ready +for her."</p> +<p>"The sofa--oh, Mr. Richard, it's all full of her dear clothes +that have come up from the wash."</p> +<p>"Well, then, take them off--idiot--and do as you are told."</p> +<p>"Oh, Miss Pauline--oh, my poor, dear lamb. Oh, I'm all in a +flutter; I don't know what to do. I'd better call the cook."</p> +<p>"Well, call the cook, then," said Richard, groaning, "only tell +her to be quick."</p> +<p>All this time Richard was supporting me up the stairs. As we +reached the top, Richard called out, "Tell Peter I want him at +once, to take a message for me."</p> +<p>Ann was watching our progress up the stairs, with groans and +ejaculations, forgetting that she was to call the cook. At the +mention of Peter she exclaimed,</p> +<p>"He's laid up with the rheumatism, Mr. Richard. Oh, whatever +shall we do!"</p> +<p>When we reached the middle of the second pair of stairs, I was +almost helpless; Richard took me in his arms, and carried me.</p> +<p>"Is it this door, Pauline dear?" he said, opening the first he +came to.</p> +<p>I should think the room had not been opened since I went away, +it was so warm and close.</p> +<p>Richard carried me to the sofa, and scattered the +<i>lingerie</i> far and wide as he laid me down upon it, and went +to open the windows. Then he went to the bell and pulled it +violently. In a few moments the cook came up (accompanied by Ann). +She was a huge, unwieldy woman, but she had some intelligence, and +knew better than to whimper.</p> +<p>"Miss Pauline is ill," he said, "and I want you to stay by her, +and not leave her for a moment, till I come back. Make that woman +get the room in order instantly, and keep everything as quiet as +you can." To me: "I am going to bring a doctor, and I shall be back +in a few moments. Do not worry, they will take good care of +you."</p> +<p>When I heard Richard shut the carriage-door and drive away +rapidly, I felt as if I were abandoned, and by the time he returned +with the Doctor, I was in a state that warranted them in supposing +me unconscious, tossing and moaning, and uttering inarticulate +words.</p> +<p>The Doctor stood beside me, and talked about me to Richard with +as much freedom as if I had been a corpse.</p> +<p>"I may as well be frank with you," he said, after a few moments +of examination. "I apprehend great trouble from the brain. How long +has she been in this condition?"</p> +<p>"She has been unlike herself since yesterday; as soon as I saw +her, at seven o'clock last night, I noticed she was looking badly. +She answered me in an abstracted, odd way, and was unlike herself, +as I have said. But she had been under much excitement for some +time."</p> +<p>"Tell me, if you please, all about it; and how long she has been +under this excitement."</p> +<p>"She has been often agitated, and quite overstrained in feeling +for some time. Three weeks ago I thought her looking badly. Two +days ago she had a frightful shock--a suicide--which she was the +first to discover. Since then I do not think that she has +slept."</p> +<p>"Ah! poor young lady. She has had a terrible experience, and is +paying for it. Now for what we can do for her. In the first place, +who takes care of her?" with a look about the room.</p> +<p>"You may well ask. I have just brought her home, and find here, +the man-servant ill, one woman too old and inactive to perform much +service, and another to whom I would not trust her for a moment. I +must ask <i>you</i>, who shall I get to take care of her?"</p> +<p>"You have no friend, no one to whom you could send in such a +case? One of life and death,--I hope you understand?"</p> +<p>"None," answered Richard, with a groan. "There is not a person +in the city to whom I could send for help. All my family--all our +friends, are away. Is there no one that can be got for money--any +money? no nurse that you could recommend?"</p> +<p>"I have a list of twenty. Yesterday I sent to every one, for a +dangerous case of hemorrhage, and could not find one disengaged. It +may be to-morrow night before you get on the track of one that is +at liberty, if you hunt the city over. And this girl is in need of +instant care; her life hangs on it, you must see."</p> +<p>"In God's name, then," said Richard, with a groan, pacing up and +down the room, "what am I to do?"</p> +<p>"In <i>His</i> name, if you come, to that," said the Doctor, who +was a good sort of man, notwithstanding his professional cool ways, +"there is a sisterhood, that I am told offer to do things like +this. I never sent to them, for I only heard of it a short time +ago; but if you have no objection to crosses, and caps, and +ritualistic nonsense in its highest flower, I have no doubt, that +they will let you have a sister, and that she'll do good service +here."</p> +<p>"The direction," said Richard, too eager to be civil. "How am I +to get there?"</p> +<p>The Doctor pulled over a pocket-case of loose papers, and at +last found one, which he handed his companion.</p> +<p>"I give you three quarters of an hour to get back," he said. "I +will stay here till then, at all events. Do not waste any time--nor +spare any eloquence," he added to himself, as Richard hurried from +the room.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX."></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +<h3>SISTER MADELINE.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Yes! it is well for us: from these alarms,<br> +Like children scared, we fly into thine arms;<br> +And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout<br> +With a swift faith which has not time to doubt.<br> +<br> +<i>Faber.</i><br> +<br> +Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend<br> +Towards a higher object. Love was given,<br> +Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end;<br> +For this the passion to excess was driven---<br> +That self might be annulled; her bondage prove<br> +The fetters of a dream, opposed to love.<br> +<br> +<i>Wordsworth</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The next thing that I recall, is rousing from slumber, or +something related to slumber, and seeing a tall woman in the dress +of a sister, standing by my bed. It was night, and there was a lamp +upon a table near. The unusual dress, and the unfamiliarity of her +whole appearance, made me start and stare at her, half raising +myself in the bed.</p> +<p>"Why did you come here?" I said. "Who sent for you?"</p> +<p>"I came because you were sick and suffering, and I was sent in +the Name ----" and bending her head slightly, she said a Name too +sacred for these pages.</p> +<p>I gave a great sigh of relief, and sank back on my pillow. Her +answer satisfied me, for I was not able to reason. I let her hold +my hand; and all through that dark and troubled time submitted to +her will, and desired her presence, and was soothed by her voice +and touch.</p> +<p>Sister Madeline was not at all the ideal sister, being tall and +dark, and with nothing peculiarly devotional or pensive in her cast +of feature. Her face was a fine, earnest one. Her movements were +full of energy and decision, though not quick or sharp. The whole +impression left was that of one by nature far from humility, +tenderness, devotion; but, by the force of a magnificent faith, +made passionately humble, devout from the very heart, more than +humanly compassionate and tender.</p> +<p>I never felt toward her as if she were "born so"--but as if she +were rescued from the world by some great effort or experience; as +if it were all "made ground," reclaimed from nature by infinite +patience and incessant labor. She lived the life of an angel upon +the earth. I never saw her, by look, by word, or tone, transgress +the least of the commandments, so wonderful was the curb she held +over all her human feelings. Nor was this perfection attained by a +sudden and grand sacrifice; the consecration of herself to the +religious life was not the "single step 'twixt earth and heaven," +but it was attained by daily and hourly study--by the practice of a +hundred self-denials--by the most accurate science of spiritual +progress.</p> +<p>Doubtless, saints can be made in other ways, but this is one way +they can be made, starting with a sincere intention to serve God. +At least, so I believe, from knowing Sister Madeline.</p> +<p>She made a great change in my life, and I owe her a great deal. +It is not strange I feel enthusiasm for her. I cannot bear to think +what my coming back to life would have been without her.</p> +<p>Of the alarming nature of my illness, I only know that there +were several days when Richard never left the house, but waited, +hour after hour, in the library below, for the news of my +condition, and when even Uncle Leonard came home in the middle of +the day, and walked about the house, silent and unapproachable.</p> +<p>One night--how well I remember it! I had been convalescent, I do +not know how long; I had passed the childish state of interest in +my <i>bouilli</i>, and fretfulness about my <i>peignoir</i>; my +mind had begun to regain its ordinary power, and with the first +efforts of memory and thought had come fearful depression and +despondency. I was so weak, physically, that I could not fight +against this in the least. Sister Madeline came to my bedside, and +found me in an agony of weeping. It was not an easy matter to gain +my confidence, for I thought she knew nothing of me, and I was not +equal to the mental effort of explaining myself; she was only +associated with my illness. But at last she made me understand that +she was not ignorant of a great deal that troubled me.</p> +<p>"Who has told you?" I said, my heart hardening itself against +Richard, who could have spoken of my trouble to a stranger.</p> +<p>"You, yourself," she answered me.</p> +<p>"I have raved?" I said.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And who has heard me?"</p> +<p>"No one else. I sent every one else from the room whenever your +delirium became intelligible."</p> +<p>This made me grateful toward her; and I longed for sympathy. I +threw my arms about her and wept bitterly.</p> +<p>"Then you know that I can never cry enough," I said.</p> +<p>"I do not know that," she answered. After a vain attempt to +soothe me with general words of comfort, she said, with much +wisdom, "Tell me exactly what thought gives you the most pain, now, +at this moment."</p> +<p>"The thought of his dreadful act, and that by it he has lost his +soul."</p> +<p>"We know with Whom all things are possible," she said, "and we +do not know what cloud may have been over his reason at that +moment. Would it comfort you to pray for him?"</p> +<p>"Ought I?" I asked, raising my head.</p> +<p>"I do not know any reason that you ought not," she returned. +"Shall I say some prayers for him now?"</p> +<p>I grasped her hand: she took a little book from her pocket, and +knelt down beside me, holding my hand in hers. Oh, the mercy, the +relief of those prayers! They may not have done him any good, but +they did me. The hopeless grief that was killing me, I "wept it +from my heart" that hour.</p> +<p>"Promise me one thing," I whispered as she rose, "that you will +read that prayer, every hour during the day, to-morrow, by my bed, +whether I am sleeping or awake."</p> +<p>"I promise," she said, and I am sure she kept her word, that day +and many others after it.</p> +<p>During my convalescence, which was slow, I had no other person +near me, and wanted none. Uncle Leonard came in once a day, and +spent a few minutes, much to his discomfort and my disadvantage. +Richard I had not seen at all, and dreaded very much to meet. Ann +Coddle fretted me, and was very little in the room.</p> +<p>Over these days there is a sort of peace. I was entering upon so +much that was new and elevating, under the guidance of Sister +Madeline, and was so entirely influenced by her, that I was brought +out of my trouble wonderfully. Not out of it, of course, but from +under its crushing weight. I know that I am rather easily +influenced, and only too ready to follow those who have won my +love. Therefore, I am in every way thankful that I came at such a +time under the influence of a mind like that of Sister +Madeline.</p> +<p>But the time was approaching for her to go away. I was well +enough to do without her, and she had other duties. The sick-room +peace and indulgence were over, and I must take up the burden of +every-day life again. I was very unhappy, and felt as if I were +without stay or guidance.</p> +<p>"To whom am I to go when I am in doubt?" I said; "you will be so +far away."</p> +<p>"That is what I want to arrange: the next time you are able to +go out, I want to take you to some one who can direct you much +better than I."</p> +<p>"A priest?" I asked. "Tell me one thing: will he give me +absolution?"</p> +<p>"I suppose he will, if he finds that you desire it."</p> +<p>"What would be the use of going to him for anything else?" I +said. "It is the only thing that can give me any comfort."</p> +<p>"All people do not feel so, Pauline."</p> +<p>"But you feel so, dear Sister Madeline, do you not? You can +understand how I am burdened, and how I long to have the bands +undone?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, I can understand."</p> +<p>I am not inclined to give much weight to my own opinions, and as +for my feelings, I know they were, then, those of a child, and in +many ways will always be. I can only say what comforted me, and +what I longed for. There had always been great force to me, in the +Scripture that says, "Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted +unto them, and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained," even +before I felt the burden of my sins.</p> +<p>I had once seen the ordination of a priest, and I suppose that +added to the weight of the words ever after in my mind. I never had +any doubt of the power then conferred, and I no sooner felt the +guilt and stain of sin upon my soul, than I yearned to hear the +pardon spoken, that Heaven offered to the penitent. I had been +tangibly smitten; I longed to be tangibly healed.</p> +<p>Whatever shame and pain there was about laying bare my soul +before another, I gladly embraced it, as one poor means at my +command of showing to Him whom I had offended, that my repentance +was actual, that I stopped at no humiliation.</p> +<p>It may very well be that these feelings would find no place in +larger, grander, more self-reliant natures; that what healed my +soul would only wound another. I am not prepared to think that one +remedy is cure for all diseases, but I know what cured mine. I +bless God for "the soothing hand that Love on Conscience laid." I +mark that hour as the beginning of a fresh and favored life; the +dawning of a hope that has not yet lost its power</p> +<blockquote> + "to +tame<br> +The haughty brow, to curb the unchastened eye,<br> +And shape to deeds of good each wavering aim."</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX."></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +<h3>THE HOUR OF DAWN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Slowly light came, the thinnest dawn,<br> + Not sunshine, to my night;<br> +A new, more spiritual thing,<br> + An advent of pure light.<br> +<br> +All grief has its limits, all chastenings their pause;<br> +Thy love and our weakness are sorrow's two laws.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The winter that followed seemed very long and uneventful. After +Sister Madeline went away, my days settled themselves into the +routine in which they continued to revolve for many months. I was +as lonely as formerly, save for the companionship of well-chosen +books, and for the direction of another mind, which I felt to be +the truest support and guidance. I was taught to bend to my uncle's +wishes, and to give up constant church-going, and visiting among +the poor, which would have been such a resource and occupation to +me. And so my life, outwardly, was very little changed from former +years--years that I had found almost insupportable, without any +sorrow; and yet, strange to say, I was not unhappy.</p> +<p>My hours were full of little duties, little rules. (I suppose my +heart was in them, or I should have found them irksome.) Above all, +I was not permitted to brood over the past: I was taught to feel +that every thought of it indulged, was a sin, and to be accounted +for as such: I could only remember the one for whom I mourned, on +my knees, in my prayers. This checked, as nothing else could have +done, the morbid tendency of grief, in a lonely, unoccupied, +undisciplined mind. I was thoroughly obedient, and bent myself with +all simplicity to follow the instructions given me. Sometimes they +seemed very irrelevant and useless, but I never rebelled against +any, even one that seemed as hard to flesh and blood as this. And I +have, sooner or later, seen the wisdom of them all, as I have +worked out the problem of my correction.</p> +<p>Obedient as I was, though, and simple as the routine of my life +continued, sometimes there came crises that were beyond my +strength.</p> +<p>I can remember one; it was a furious storm--a day that nailed +one in the house. There was something in the rage without that +disturbed me; I wandered about the house, and found myself unable +to settle to any task. Some one to speak to! Oh, it was so dreary +to be alone. I went into my uncle's room where there were many +books. Among those that were there I found one in French, (I have +no idea how it came there, I am sure my uncle had never read it.) I +carelessly turned it over, and finally became absorbed in it. I +came upon this passage:</p> +<blockquote>Quel plus noir abîme d'angoisse y a-t-il an +monde que le coeur d'un suicide? Quand le malheur d'un homme est +dû à quelque circonstance de sa vie, on pent +espérer de l'en voir délivrer par un changement qui +pent survenir dans sa position. Mais lorsque ce malheur a sa source +en lui; quand c'est l'âme elle-même qui est le tourment +de l'âme; la vie elle-même qui est le fardeau de la +vie; que faire, que de reconnaître en gémissant qu'il +n'y a rien à faire--rien, selon le monde; et qu'un tel +homme, plus à plaindre que ce prisonnier que l'histoire nous +peint dans les angoisses de la faim, se repaissant de sa propre +chair, est réduit à dévorer la substance +même de son âme dans les horreurs de son +désespoir. Et qu'imagine-t-il done pour échapper +à lui-même, comme à son plus cruel ennemi? Je +ne dis pas: 'Où ira-t-il loin de l'esprit de Dieu? où +fuira-t-il loin de sa face?' Je demande, où ira-t-il loin de +son propre esprit? où fuira-t-il loin de sa propre face? +Où descendra-t-il qu'il ne s'y suive lui-même; +où se cachera-t-il qu'il ne s'y trouve encore? +Insensé, dont la folie égale la misère, quand +tu te seras tué, on dira: 'Il est mort;' mais ce sont les +autres qui le diront; ce ne sera pas toi-même. Tu seras mort +pour ton pays, mort pour ta ville, mort pour ta famille; mais pour +toi-même, pour ce qui pense en toi, hélas! pour ce qui +souffre en toi, tu vivras toujours.<br> +<br> +Et comment ne sens-tu pas, que pour cesser d'être malheureux, +ce n'est pas ta place qu'il faut changer, c'est ton coeur. Que tu +disparaisses sous les flots, qu'un plomb meurtrier brise ta +tête, ou qu'un poison subtil glace tes veines; quoi que tu +fasses, et où que tu ailles, tu n'y peux aller qu'avec +toi-même, qu'avec ton coeur, qu'avec ta misère! Que +dis-je? Tu y vas avec un compte de plus à rendre, à +la rencontre du grand Dieu qui doit te juger; tu y vas avec +l'éternité de plus pour souffrir, et le temps de +moins pour te repentir!<br> +<br> +A moins que tu ne penses peut-être, parceque l'oeil de +l'homme n'a rien vu au-delà de la tombe, que cette vie n'ait +pas de suite. Mais non, tu ne saurais le croire! Quand tous les +autres le penseraient, toi, tu ne le pourrais pas. Tu as une preuve +d'immortalité qui t'appartient en propre. Cette tristesse +qui te consume, est quelque chose de trop intime et de trop profond +pour se dissoudre avec tes organes, et ce qui est capable de tant +souffrir ne pent pas s'aller perdre dans la terre. Les vers +hériteront de la poussière de ton corps, mais +l'amertume de ton âme, qui en héritera? Ces extases +sublimes, ces tourments affreux; ces hauteurs des cieux, ces +profondeurs des abîmes; qu'y a-t-il d'assez grand ou d'assez +abaissé, d'assez élevé ou d'assez avili pour +les revêtir en ta place? Non, tu ne saurais jamais croire que +tout meurt avec le corps; ou si tu le pouvais tu n'en serais que +plus insensé, plus misérable encore.</blockquote> +<p>It is proof how child-like I had been, how obedient in +suppressing all forbidden thoughts, that these words smote me with +such horror. I had indulged in no speculation; I had never thought +of him as haunted by the self he fled; as still bound to an +inexorable and inextinguishable life,</p> +<blockquote> + +"With time and hope behind him cast,<br> +And all his work to do with palsied hands and cold."</blockquote> +<p>The terrors I had had, had been vague. I had thought dimly of +punishment, more keenly of separation. If I had analysed my +thoughts, I suppose I should have found annihilation to have been +my belief--death forever, loss eternal. But this--if this were +truth--(and it smote me as the truth alone can smite), oh, it was +maddening. To my knees! To my knees! Oh, that I might live long +years to pray for him! Oh, that I might stretch out my hands to God +for him, withered with age and shrunk with fasting, and strong but +in faith and final perseverance! Oh, it could not be too late! What +was prayer made for, but for a time like this? What was this little +breath of time, compared with the Eternal Years, that we should +only speak <i>now</i> for each other to our merciful God, and never +speak for each other afterward? Spirits are forever; and is prayer +only for the days of the body?</p> +<p>It was well for me that none of the doubts that are so often +expressed had found any lodgment in my brain; if I had not believed +that I had a right to pray for him, and that my prayers might help +him, I cannot understand how I could have lived through those +nights and days of thought.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI."></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +<h3>APRSÉ PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>What to those who understand<br> +Are to-day's enjoyments narrow,<br> +Which to-morrow go again,<br> +Which are shared with evil men,<br> +And of which no man in his dying<br> +Taketh aught for softer lying?</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>It was now early spring: the days were lengthening and were +growing soft. Lent (late that year) was nearly over. I had begun to +think much about the summer, and to wonder if I were to pass it in +the city. There was one thing that the winter had developed in me, +and that was, a sort of affection for my uncle. I had learned that +I owed him a duty, and had tried to find ways of fulfilling it; had +taken a little interest in the house, and had tried to make him +more comfortable. Also I had prayed very constantly for him, and +perhaps there is no way more certain of establishing an affection, +or at least a charity for another, than that.</p> +<p>In return, he had been a little more human to me than formerly, +had shown some interest in my health, and continued appreciation of +the fact that I was in the house. Once he had talked to me, for +perhaps half an hour, about my mother, for which I was unspeakably +grateful. Several times he had given me a good deal of money, which +I had cared much less about. Latterly he had permitted me to go to +church alone, which had seemed to me must be owing to Richard's +intervention.</p> +<p>Richard had been almost as much as formerly at the house: my +uncle was becoming more and more dependent on him. For myself, I +did not see as much of him as the year before. We were always +together at the table, of course. But the evenings that Richard was +with my uncle, I thought it unnecessary for me to stay down-stairs. +Besides, now, they almost always had writing or business affairs to +occupy them.</p> +<p>It was natural that I should go away, and no one seemed to +notice it. Richard still brought me books, still arranged things +for me with my uncle (as in the matter of going to church alone), +but we had no more talks together by ourselves, and he never asked +me to go anywhere with him. At Christmas he sent me beautiful +flowers, and a picture for my room. Sophie I rarely saw, and only +longed never to see Benny was permitted to come and spend a day +with me, at great intervals, and I enjoyed him more than his mother +or his uncle.</p> +<p>One day my uncle went down to his office in his usual health; at +three o'clock he was brought home senseless, and only lived till +midnight, dying without recovering speech or consciousness. It was +a sudden seizure, but what everybody had expected; everybody was +shocked for the moment, and then wondered that they were. It was +very appalling to me; I was so unhappy, I almost believed I loved +him, and I certainly mourned for him with simplicity and +affection.</p> +<p>The preparations for the funeral were so frightful, and all the +thoughts it brought so unnerving, that I was almost ill. A great +deal came upon me, in trying to manage the wailing servants, and in +helping Richard in arrangements.</p> +<p>It was the day after the funeral; I was tired, out, and had lain +down on the sofa in the dining-room, partly because I hated to be +alone up-stairs, and partly because it was not far from lunch-time, +and I felt too weary to take any needless steps. I don't think ever +in my life before I had lain down on that sofa, or had spent two +hours except, at the table, in that room. It was a most cheerless +room, and no one ever thought of sitting down in it, except at +mealtime. I closed the shutters and darkened it to suit my eyes, +which ached, and I think must have fallen asleep.</p> +<p>The parlor was the room which adjoined the dining-room (only two +large rooms on one floor, as they used to build), and separated +from it by heavy mahogany columns and sliding-doors. These doors +were half-way open, and I was roused by voices in the parlor. As +soon as I recovered myself from the sudden waking, I recognized +Sophie's and then Richard's. I wondered what Richard was doing +up-town at that hour, and so Sophie did too, for she asked him very +plainly.</p> +<p>"I thought I ought to come to see Pauline," she said, "but I did +not suppose I should find you here in the middle of the day."</p> +<p>"There is something that I've got to see Pauline about at once," +he said, "and so I was obliged to come up-town."</p> +<p>"Nothing has happened?" she said interrogatively.</p> +<p>"No," he answered, evasively.</p> +<p>But she went on: "I suppose it's something in relation to the +will; I hope she's well provided for, poor thing."</p> +<p>"Sophie," said her brother, with a change of tone, "You'll have +to hear it some time, and perhaps you may as well hear it now. It +is that that I have come up-town about; there has been some strange +mistake made; there is no will."</p> +<p>"No will!" echoed Sophie, "Why, you told me once--"</p> +<p>"That he had left her everything. So he told me twice last year; +so I have always believed to be the case. Since the day he died, +the most faithful search has been made; there is not a corner of +his office, of his library, of his room, that I have not hunted +through. He was so methodical in business matters, so exact in the +care of his papers, that I had little hope, after I had gone +through his desk. I cannot understand it. It is altogether dark to +me."</p> +<p>"What can have made him change his mind about it, Richard? Can +he have heard anything about last summer?"</p> +<p>"Not from me, Sophie. But I have sometimes thought he knew, from +allusions that he has made to her mother's marriage, more than once +this winter."</p> +<p>"He was very angry about that, at the time, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I imagine so. The man she married was poor, and a +foreigner: two things he hated. I never heard there was anything +against him but his poverty."</p> +<p>"How can he have heard about Mr. Langenau?" said Sophie, +musingly.</p> +<p>"I think Pauline must have told him," said Richard.</p> +<p>"Pauline? never. She is much too clever; she never told him. You +may be quite sure of <i>that</i>."</p> +<p>"Pauline clever! Poor Pauline!" said Richard, with a short, +sarcastic laugh, which had the effect of making Sophie angry.</p> +<p>"I am willing," she said, "that she should be as stupid and as +good as you can wish--. To whom does the money go?" she added, as +if she had not patience for the other subject.</p> +<p>"To a brother, with whom he had a quarrel, and whom he had not +seen for over sixteen years."</p> +<p>"Incredible!"</p> +<p>"But there had been some sort of a reconciliation, at least an +exchange of letters, within these three months past."</p> +<p>"Ah!"</p> +<p>"And it is in consequence of hearing from him, and being pressed +by his lawyer for an immediate settlement of the estate, that I +have come up to tell Pauline, and to prepare her for her changed +prospects."</p> +<p>"And what do you propose to advise?" asked Sophie, with a +chilling voice.</p> +<p>"Heaven knows, Sophie," answered her brother, with a heavy sigh. +"I see nothing ahead for the poor girl, but loneliness and trial. +She is utterly unfit to struggle with the world. And she has not +even a shelter for her head."</p> +<p>"Richard," interrupted his sister, with intensity of feeling in +her voice, "I see what you are trying to persuade yourself: do not +tell me, after what has passed, you still feel that you are bound +to her--"</p> +<p>"<i>Bound!</i>" exclaimed Richard, with a vehemence most strange +in him, as, pacing the room, he stood still before his sister. His +back was toward me. She was so absorbed she did not see me as I +darted past the folding-doors into the hall. As I flew panting up +to my own room, I remember one feeling above all others, the first +feeling of affection toward the house that I had ever had. It was +mine no longer, my home never again; I had no right to stay in it a +moment: my own room was not mine any more--the room where I had +learned to pray, and to try to lead a good life--the room where I +had lain when I was so near to death--the room where Sister +Madeline had led me to such peaceful, quiet thoughts. I had but one +wish now, not to see Richard, to escape Sophie, to get away forever +from this house to which I had no right. I pulled down my hat and +my street things, and dressed so quickly, that I had slipped down +the stairs, and out into the street, before they had ceased talking +in the parlor. I heard their voices, very low, as I passed through +the hall. I fully meant never to come back to the house again--not +to be turned out.</p> +<p>My heart swelled as the door closed behind me. It was dreadful +not to have a home. I was so unused to being in the street alone, +that I felt frightened when I reached the cars and stopped +them.</p> +<p>I was going to Sister Madeline. She would take me, and keep me, +and teach me where to live, and how. I was a little confused, and +got out at the wrong street, and had to walk several blocks before +I reached the house.</p> +<p>The servant at the door met me with an answer that made me +wonder whether there were anything else to happen to me on that +day.</p> +<p>Sister Madeline had been called away--had gone on a long +journey--something about the illness of her brother; and I must not +come inside the door, for a contagious disease was raging, and the +orders were strict that no one be admitted. I had walked so fast, +and in such excitement of feeling, that I was weak and faint when I +turned to go down the steps. Where should I go? I walked on slowly +now, and undecided, for I had no aim.</p> +<p>The clergyman to whom I had gone for direction in matters +spiritual, was ill--for two weeks had given up even Lenten duties. +Anything--but I could not go home, or rather where home had been. I +walked and walked till I was almost fainting, and found myself in +the Park. There the lovely indications of spring, and the quiet, +and the fresh air, soothed me, and I sat down under some trees near +the water, and rested myself. But the same giddy whirl of thoughts +came back, the same incompetency to deal with such strange facts, +and the same confusion. I do not know how long I wandered about; +but I was faint and weary and hungry, and frightened too, for +people were beginning to look at me.</p> +<p>It began to force itself upon me that I must go back to +Varick-street after all, and take a fresh start. Then I began to +think how I should get back, on which side must I go to find the +cars--where was I, literally. Then I sat down to wait, till I +should see some policeman, or some kind-looking person, near me, to +whom I could apply for this very necessary information. In the +meantime I took out my purse to see if I had the proper change. +Verily, not that, nor any change at all! My heart actually stood +still. Yes, it was very true: I had given away, right and left, +during this Lent: caring nothing for money, and being very sure of +more when this was gone. I was literally penniless. I had not even +the money to ride home in the cars.</p> +<p>Till a person has felt this sensation, he has not had one of the +most remarkable experiences of life. To know where you can get +money, to feel that there is some <i>dernier ressort</i> however +hateful to you, is one thing; but to <i>know</i> that you have not +a cent--not a prospect of getting one--not a hope of earning +one--no means of living--this is suffocation. This is the stopping +of that breath that keeps the world alive.</p> +<p>The bench on which I happened to be sitting was one of those +pretty, little, covered seats, which jut out into the lake. I +looked down into the water as I sat with my empty purse in my lap, +and remembered vaguely the many narratives I had seen in the +newspapers about unaccounted-for and unknown suicides. I could see +how it might be inevitable--a sort of pressure, a fatality that +might not be resisted. Even cowardice might be overcome when that +pressure was put on.</p> +<p>It is a very amazing thing to feel that you have no money, nor +any means of getting even eightpence: it chokes you: you feel as if +the wheel had made its last revolution, and there was no power to +make it turn again. It is not any question of pride, or of +independence, when it comes suddenly; it is a feeling of the +inevitable; you do not turn to others. You feel your individual +failure, and you stand alone.</p> +<p>For myself, this was my reflection: I had not even a shelter for +my head; Richard had said so. I had not a cent of money, and I had +no means of earning any. The uncle who was coming to take +possession of the house and furniture, was one whom I had been +taught to distrust and dread. He would, perhaps, not even let me go +into my room again, and would turn me out to-morrow, if he came: my +clothes--were <i>they</i> even mine, or would they be given to me, +if they were? This uncle had reproached Uncle Leonard once for what +he had done for me. I had even an idea that it was about my +mother's marriage that the quarrel had occurred. And hard as I had +regarded Uncle Leonard, he had been the soft-hearted one of the +brothers, who had sheltered the little girl (after he had thrown +off the mother, and broken her poor heart).</p> +<p>The house in Varick-street would be broken up. What would become +of the cook, and Ann Coddle? It would be easier for them to live +than for me.</p> +<p>They could get work to do, for they knew how to work, and people +would employ them. I--I could do nothing, I had been taught to do +nothing. I had never been directed how to hem a handkerchief. I had +tried to dust my room one day, and the effort had tired me +dreadfully, and did not look very well, as a result. I could not +teach. I had been educated in a slipshod way, no one directing +anything about it--just what it occurred to the person who had +charge of me to put before me.</p> +<p>I had intended to throw myself upon Sister Madeline. But what +then? What could she have done for me? I had asked her months +before if I could not be a sister, and had been discouraged both by +her and by my director. I believe they thought I was too young and +too pretty, and, in fact, had no vocation. No doubt they thought I +might soon look upon things differently, when my trouble was a +little older.</p> +<p>And Richard--I did not give Richard many thoughts that day, for +my heart was sore, when I remembered all his words. He had always +thought that I was to be rich; perhaps that had made him so long +patient with me. He had said I was not clever; he had seemed to be +very sorry for me. He might well be. Sophie had asked him if he +were still bound to me. I had not heard all his answer, but he had +spoken in a tone of scorn. I did not want to think about him.</p> +<p>There was no whither to turn myself for help. And the clergyman, +who had been more than kind to me, who had seemed to help me with +words and counsel out of heaven,--he was cut off from my succor, +and I stood alone--I, who was so dependent, so naturally timid, and +so easily mistaken.</p> +<p>It was a dreary hour of my life, that hour that I sat looking +over at the water of the pretty placid lake. I don't like to recall +it. Some one passed by me, gave an exclamation of surprise, and +came back hastily. It was Richard. He seemed so glad, and so +relieved to see me--and to me it was like Heaven opening; +notwithstanding my vindictive thoughts about him, I could have +sprung into his arms; I felt protected, safe, the moment he was by +me. I tried to speak, and then began to cry.</p> +<p>"I've been looking for you these last two hours," he said, +sitting down beside me. "I came up-town to see you, and found you +had gone out. I thought you would not be likely to go anywhere but +to see Sister Madeline, and there the servant told me you had come +this way. I could not find you here, and went back to +Varick-street, then was frightened at hearing you had not come +back, and returned again to look for you. What made you stay so +long? Something has happened. Tell me what you are crying for."</p> +<p>I had no talent for acting, and not much discretion when I was +excited; and he found out very soon that I knew what had befallen +me. (I think he believed that Sophie had told me of it.)</p> +<p>"Were you very much surprised?" he said. "Had you supposed that +you would be his heiress?"</p> +<p>"Why, no. I had not thought anything about it. I am afraid I +have not thought much about anything this winter. I must have been +very ungrateful, as well as childish, for I never have felt as if +it were fortunate that I had a home, and as much money as I wanted. +I did not care anything about being rich, you know--ever."</p> +<p>"No, I know you did not. I was sure you would have been +satisfied with a very moderate provision."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, clasping my hands together, "if he had +left me a little--just a little--just a few hundred dollars, when +he had so much, to have kept me from having to work, when I don't +know how to work, and am such a child."</p> +<p>"Work!" he exclaimed, looking down at me as if I were something +so exquisite and so precious, that the very thought was +profanation. "Work! no, Pauline, you shall not have to work."</p> +<p>"But what can I do?" I said, "I have nothing--and you know it; +not a shelter; not the money to pay for my breakfast to-morrow +morning. Not a person to whom I have a right to go for help; not a +human being who is bound to care for me. Oh, I don't care what +becomes of me; I wish that it were time for me to die."</p> +<p>Richard got up, and paced up and down the little platform with +an absorbed look.</p> +<p>"It was so strange," I went on, "when he seemed this winter to +take a little notice of me, and to want to have me near him. I +really almost thought he cared for me. And when I was so ill last +Fall, don't you remember how often he used to come up to my +room?"</p> +<p>"I remember--yes. It is all very strange."</p> +<p>"And some days early in the winter, when I could scarcely speak +at table, I was so unhappy, he would look at me so long, and seem +to think. And then would be very kind and gentle afterward, and do +something to show he liked me--give me money, you know, as he +always did."</p> +<p>"Tell me, Pauline: did he ever ask you anything about last +summer, or did you ever tell him?"</p> +<p>"No, Richard, I could never have spoken to him about it; and he +never asked me. But I know he saw that I was not happy."</p> +<p>"Pauline," said Richard, after a pause, and as if forcing +himself to speak, "there is no use in disguising from you what your +position is: you know it yourself, enough of it, at least, to make +you understand why I speak now. I don't know of any way out of it, +but one; and I feel as if it were ungenerous to press that on you +now, and, Heaven knows, I would not do it if I could think of +anything else to offer to you. You know, Pauline, that if you will +marry me, you will have everything that you need, as much as if +your uncle had left you everything."</p> +<p>He did not look at me, but paced up and down the platform, and +spoke with a thick, husky voice.</p> +<p>"You know it's been the object of my life, ever since I knew +you, but I don't want that to influence you. I know it is too soon, +a great deal too soon. And I would not have done it, if I could +have seen anything else to do, or if you could have done without +me."</p> +<p>I must have been deadly pale, for when at last he looked at me, +he started.</p> +<p>"I don't know how it is," he said, with a groan, "I always have +to give you pain, when, Heaven knows, I'd give my life to spare you +every suffering. I can't see any other way to take care of you than +the way I tell you of, and yet, I have no doubt you think me cruel, +and selfish, to ask you to do it now. It does seem so, and yet it +is not. If you knew how much it has cost me to speak, you would +believe it."</p> +<p>"I do believe it," I said, trying to command my voice. "I think +you have always been too good and kind to me. But I can't tell you +how this makes me feel. Oh, Richard, isn't there any, any other +way?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps there may be," he said, with a bitter and disappointed +look, "but I do not know of it."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard, do not be angry with me. Think how hard it is for +me always to be disappointing you. I have a great deal of +trouble!"</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, I know you have," he said, sitting down by me, +and taking my hand in a repentant way. "You see I'm selfish, and +only looked at my own disappointment just that minute. I thought I +had not any hope that you might not mind the idea of marrying me; +but you see, after all, I had. I believe I must have fancied that +you were getting over your trouble: you have seemed so much +brighter lately. But now I know the truth; and now I know that what +I do is simply sacrifice and duty. A man must be a fool who looks +for pleasure in marrying a woman who has no love for him. And I say +now, in the face of it all, marry me, Pauline, if you can bring +yourself to do it. I am the only approach to a friend that you have +in the world. As your husband, I can care for you and protect you. +You are young, your character is unformed, you are ignorant of the +world. You have no home, no protection, literally none, and I am +afraid to trust you. You need not be angry if I say so. I think +I've earned the right to find some faults in you. I don't expect +you to love me. I don't expect to be particularly happy; but there +are a good many ways of serving God and doing one's duty; and if we +try to serve him and to live for duty, it will all come out right +at last. You will be a happier woman, Pauline, if you do it, than +if you rebel against it, and try to find some other way, and put +yourself in a subordinate place, or a place of dependence, and +waste your life, and expose yourself to temptation. No, no, +Pauline, I cannot see you do it. Heaven knows, I wish you had +somebody else to direct you. But it has all come upon me, and I +must do the best I can. I think any one else would advise the same, +who had the same means of judging."</p> +<p>"I will do just what you think best," I said, almost in a +whisper, getting up.</p> +<p>"That is right," he answered, in a husky voice, rising too, and +putting my cloak about my shoulders, which had fallen off. "You +will see it will be best."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII."></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +<h3>A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,<br> +Are governed with a goodly modesty,<br> +That suffers not a look to glance away,<br> +Which may let in a little thought unsound.<br> +<br> +<i>Spenser</i>.<br> +<br> +Vouloir ce que Dieu veut est la seule science<br> +Qui nous met en repos.<br> +<br> +<i>Malherbe</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Richard had obtained for me (with difficulty), from the lawyer +of the new uncle who had arisen, the privilege of remaining in the +house for another month, undisturbed in any way. At the end of +those four weeks I was to be married to him, one day, quietly in +church, and to go away. It was very hard to have to see Sophie, and +be treated with ignominy, for doing what I did not want to do; it +was very hard to make preparations to leave the only place I wanted +to stay in now; it was very hard to be tranquil and even, while my +heart was like lead. But I had begun to discover that that was the +general order of things here below, and it did not amaze me as it +had done at first. I was doing my duty, to the best of my +discernment, and was not to be deterred by all the lead in the +world.</p> +<p>It was very well for Richard to say, he did it for sacrifice and +for duty. I have no doubt at first he did it greatly for those two +things: but he grew happier every day, I could see. He was very +considerate of my sadness, and always acted on the basis on which +our engagement was begun, never keeping my hand in his, or kissing +me, or asking any of the trifling favors of a lover.</p> +<p>He was grave and silent: but I could see the change in his face; +I could see that he was more exacting of every moment that I spent +away from him; he kept near me, and followed me with his eyes, and +seemed never to be satisfied with his possession of me.</p> +<p>He bought me the most beautiful jewels, (he had made great +strides toward fortune in the last six months, and was a rich man +now in earnest,) and though he never clasped them on my throat or +wrist, nor even fitted a ring on my finger, I could feel his eyes +upon me, hungering for a smile, a word of gratitude.</p> +<p>And who would not have been grateful? But it was "too soon, a +great deal too soon," as he had said himself. I was very grateful, +but I would have been glad to die.</p> +<p>I have wondered whether he saw it or not, I rather think not. I +was very submissive and gentle, and tried to be bright, and I think +he was so absorbed in the satisfaction of my promise, so intent +upon his plans for making me happy, and for making me love him, +that he made himself believe there was no heart of lead below the +tranquillity he saw.</p> +<p>It was the third week since my uncle's death. The next week was +to come the marriage, on Wednesday, the 19th of May.</p> +<p>"Marriages in May are not happy," said Ann Coddle.</p> +<p>"I did not need you to tell me that," I thought.</p> +<p>It was on Thursday, the 13th; Richard had come up a little +earlier, in the evening. It grew to be a little earlier every +evening.</p> +<p>"By-and-by he will not go down-town at all, at this rate," I +said to myself, when I heard his ring that night.</p> +<p>I was sitting by the parlor-lamp, with the evening paper in my +lap, of which I had not read a word. He came and sat down by the +table, and we talked a little while. I tried to find things to talk +about, and wondered if it always would be so. I felt as if some day +I should give out entirely, and have to go through bankruptcy. (And +take a fresh start.)</p> +<p>He never seemed to feel the want of talking; I suppose he was +quite satisfied with his thoughts, and with having me beside +him.</p> +<p>By-and-by, he said he should have to go up to the library, and +look over the last of some books of my uncle's, and finish an +inventory that he had begun. Could I not bring my work and sit +there by him? I felt a little selfish, for we were already on the +last week, and I said I thought I would sit in the parlor. I had to +write a letter to Sister Madeline. I had not heard a word from her +yet, though I had written twice.</p> +<p>Why could not I write in the library?</p> +<p>I always liked to be alone when I wrote letters: I could not +think, when any one was in the room. Besides, trying to smile, he +would be sure to talk.</p> +<p>He looked disappointed, and lingered a good while before he went +away. As he rose to go away he threw into my lap a little package, +saying,</p> +<p>"There is some white lace for you. Can't you use it on some of +your clothes? I don't know anything about such things: maybe it +isn't pretty enough, but I thought perhaps it would do for that +lilac silk you talked of."</p> +<p>I opened the package: it was exquisite, fit for a princess; and +as I bent over it, I thought, how dead I must be, that it gave me +no pleasure to know it was my own, for I had loved such baubles so, +a year ago.</p> +<p>"What a mass of it!" I exclaimed, unfolding yard on yard.</p> +<p>"You must always wear lace," he said, throwing one end of it +over my black dress around the shoulder. "I like you in it. I am +tired of those stiff little linen collars."</p> +<p>The lace had given me a little compunction about not spending +the evening with him: but as I had said so, I could not draw back; +so I compromised the matter by going up to the library with him, to +see that he was comfortable, before I came down to write my +letter.</p> +<p>I brought the little student-lamp from my own room and lit it, +and put it on the library-table, and brought him some fresh pens, +and opened the inkstand for him, even pushed up the chair and put a +little footstool by it. Though he was standing by the bookshelves, +and seemed to be engrossed by them, I knew that he was watching me, +filled with content and satisfaction.</p> +<p>"Do you remember where that box of cigars was put?" he said, +turning to me as I paused. That was to keep me longer; for they +were on the shelf, half a yard from where he stood.</p> +<p>I got the cigar-box and put it on the table.</p> +<p>"Now you will want some matches, and this stand is almost +empty." So I took it away with me to my room, and came back with it +filled.</p> +<p>"Is there anything else that I can do?" I said, pausing as I put +it on the table.</p> +<p>"No, Pauline. I believe not. Thank you."</p> +<p>I think that moment Richard was nearer to happiness than he had +ever been before. Poor fellow!</p> +<p>I went down-stairs, feeling quite easy in mind, and sat down to +my letter. That threw me back into the past, for to Sister Madeline +I poured out my heart. An hour went by, and I had forgotten Richard +and the library. I was recalled to the present by hearing some +books fall on the floor (the library was over the parlor); and by +hearing Richard's step heavily crossing the room. I started up, +pushed my letter into my portfolio, and wiped away my tears, quite +frightened that Richard should see me crying. To my surprise, he +came hurriedly down the stairs, passed the parlor-door, opened the +hall-door, and shutting it heavily after him, was gone, without a +word to me. This startled me for a moment, it was so unusual. But +my heart was not enough engaged to be wounded by the slight, and I +very soon returned to my letter and my other thoughts.</p> +<p>When I went up to bed, I stopped in the library, and found the +lamp still burning, the pens unused, a cigar, which had been +lighted, but unsmoked, lying on the table. A book was lying on the +floor at the foot of the bookshelf, where I had left Richard +standing. I picked it up. "This was the last book that Uncle +Leonard ever read," I said to myself, turning its pages over. I +remembered that he had it in his hand the last night of his life, +when I bade him goodnight. I was not in the room the next day, till +he was brought home in a dying state.</p> +<p>Ann had put the books in order, and arranged them, after he went +down-town in the morning.</p> +<p>I wondered whether Richard knew that that was the last book he +had been reading, and I put it by, to tell him of it in the morning +when he came. But in the morning Richard did not come. Unusual +again; and I was for an hour or two surprised. He always found some +excuse for coming on his way down-town: and it was very odd that he +should not want to explain his sudden going away last night. But, +as before, my lack of love made the wound very slight, and in a +little time I had forgotten all about it, and was only thinking +that this was Friday--and that Wednesday was coming very near.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII."></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +<h3>A REVERSAL</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>All this is to be sanctified,<br> + This rupture with the past;<br> +For thus we die before our deaths,<br> + And so die well at last.<br> +<br> +<i>Faber</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Dinner-time came, and passed, and still Richard did not come. At +eight o'clock Ann brought the tea, as usual, and it stood nearly an +hour upon the table; and then I told her to take it away.</p> +<p>By this time I had begun to feel uneasy. Something must have +happened. It would necessarily be something uncomfortable, perhaps +something that would frighten me, and give me another shock. And I +dreaded that so; I had had so many. But perhaps, dreadful though it +might be, it would bring me a release. Perhaps Richard was only +angry with me, and <i>that</i> might bring me a release.</p> +<p>At nine o'clock I heard a ring at the bell, and then his step in +the hall. He was slower than usual in coming in; everything made me +feel confused and apprehensive. When he opened the door and +entered, I was trying to command myself, but I forgot all about +myself when I saw <i>him</i>. His face was white, and he looked +haggard and harassed, as if he had gone through a year of suffering +since last night, when I left him with the lamp and cigar in the +library.</p> +<p>I started up and put out my hand. "What is it, Richard? You are +in some trouble."</p> +<p>He said no, and tried to speak in an ordinary tone, sitting down +on the sofa by my chair.</p> +<p>I was confused and thrown back by this, and tried to talk as if +nothing had been said.</p> +<p>"Will you have a cup of tea?" I asked; "Ann has just taken it +away."</p> +<p>He said absently, yes, and I rang for Ann to bring the tea, and +then went to the table to pour it out.</p> +<p>He sat with his face leaning on his hand on the arm of the sofa, +and did not seem to notice me till I carried the cup to him, and +offered it. Then he started, and looked up and took it, asking my +pardon, and thanking me.</p> +<p>"Are you not going to have one yourself?" he said, half +rising.</p> +<p>"No, I don't want any to-night. Tell me if yours is right."</p> +<p>"Yes, it is very nice," he said absently, drinking some. Then +rising suddenly, he put the cup on the mantleshelf, and said to me, +"Send Ann away, I want to talk to you."</p> +<p>I told Ann I would ring for her when I wanted her, and sat down +by the lamp again, with many apprehensions.</p> +<p>"You asked me if anything had happened, Pauline, didn't you?" he +said.</p> +<p>"No," I answered. "But I was sure that something had, from the +way you looked when you came in."</p> +<p>"It is something that--that changes things very much for you, +Pauline," he resumed, with an effort, "and makes all our +arrangements unnecessary--that is, unless you choose."</p> +<p>I looked amazed and frightened, and he went on.</p> +<p>"I made a discovery last night in the library. The will is +found, Pauline."</p> +<p>I started to my feet, with my hands pressed against my heart, +waiting breathlessly for his next word.</p> +<p>"Everything is left to you--and I have come to tell you, you are +free--if you desire to be."</p> +<p>"Oh, thank God! Thank God!" I cried; then covering my face with +my hands, sank back into my seat, and burst into tears.</p> +<p>He turned from me and walked to the other end of the room; each +of us lived much in that little time.</p> +<p>For myself, I had accepted my bondage so meekly, so dutifully, +that I did not know the weight it had been upon me till it was +suddenly taken off. I did not think of him--I could only think, +there was no next Wednesday, and I could stay where I was. It was +like the sudden cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it +was Heaven. I was crying for joy. But at last the reaction came, +and I had to think of him.</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, going toward him, (he was sitting by the +window, and his hand concealed his eyes.) "I don't know what you +think of me, I hope you can forgive me."</p> +<p>He did not speak, and I felt a dreadful pang of +self-reproach.</p> +<p>"Richard," I said, crying, and taking hold of his hand, "I am +ashamed of myself for being glad. I will marry you yet, if you want +me to. I know how good you have been to me. I know I am ungrateful +and abominable."</p> +<p>Still he did not speak. His very lips were white, and his hand, +when I touched it, did not meet mine or move.</p> +<p>"You are angry with me," I cried, bursting into a flood of +tears. "Oh, how you ought to hate me. Oh, I wish we had never seen +each other. I wish I had been dead before I brought you all this +trouble. Richard, do look at me--do speak to me. Don't you believe +that I am sorry? Don't you know I will do anything you want me +to?"</p> +<p>He seemed to try to speak--moved a little, as a person in pain +might do, but, bending his head a little lower on his hand, was +silent still.</p> +<p>"Richard," I said, after several moments' silence, speaking +thoughtfully--"it has all come to me at last. I begin to see what +you have been to me always, and how badly I have treated you. But +it must have been because I was very young, and did not think. I am +sure my heart was not so bad, and I mean to be different now. You +know I have not had any one to teach me. Will you let me try and +make you happy?"</p> +<p>"No, Pauline," he said at last, speaking with effort. "It is all +over now, and we will never talk of it again."</p> +<p>I was silent for many minutes--standing before him with +irresolution. "If it was right for me to marry you before," I said +at last, "Why is it not right now, if I mean to do my duty?"</p> +<p>"No, it is no longer right, if it ever was," he answered. "I +will not take advantage of your sense of duty now, as I was going +to take advantage of your necessity before. No, you are free, and +it is all at an end."</p> +<p>"You are unjust to yourself. You were not taking advantage of my +necessity. You were saving me, and I am ashamed of myself when I +think of everything. Oh, Richard, where did you learn to be so +good!"</p> +<p>A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned away from +me.</p> +<p>"If you give me up," I said timidly, "who will take care of +me?"</p> +<p>"There will be plenty now," he answered bitterly.</p> +<p>"There wasn't anybody yesterday."</p> +<p>"But there will be to-morrow. No, Pauline," he said, lifting his +head and speaking in a firmer voice, "What I thought I was doing, +till this showed me my heart, and how I had deceived myself, I will +do now, even if it kills me. I thought I was acting for your good, +and from a sense of duty: now that I know what is for your good, +and what is my duty, I will go on in that, and nothing shall turn +me from it, so help me Heaven."</p> +<p>"At least you will forgive me," I said, with tears, "for all the +things that I have made you suffer."</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, with some emotion, "I shall forgive you sooner +than I shall forgive myself. I cannot see that you have been to +blame."</p> +<p>"Ah," I cried, hiding my face with shame, when I thought of all +my selfishness and indifference, and the return I had made him for +his devoted love. "I know how I have been to blame; and I am going +to pay you for your goodness and care by breaking your heart for +you--by upsetting all your plans. Oh, Richard! You had better let +it all go on! Think how everybody knows about it!"</p> +<p>He shook his head. "I don't care a straw for that," he said. And +I am sure he did not.</p> +<p>"No," he said firmly, getting up, and walking up and down the +room; "it is all over, and we must make the best of it. I shall +still have everything to do for you under the will; and while you +mustn't expect me to see you often, just for the present time, at +least, you know I shall do everything as faithfully as if nothing +had occurred. You must write to me whenever you think my judgment +or advice would do you any good. And I shall be always looking +after things that you don't understand, and taking care of your +interests, whether you hear from me or not. You'll always be sure +of that, whatever may occur."</p> +<p>"Oh," I faltered, with a sudden frightened feeling of loneliness +and loss, in the midst of my new freedom, "I can't feel as if it +were all over."</p> +<p>"I don't know how this terrible mistake about the will +occurred," he went on, without noticing what I said: "it was only +a--mercy that I found it when I did. It was between the leaves of a +book, an old volume of Tacitus; I took it down to look at the title +for the inventory, and it fell out."</p> +<p>"That was the book he had in his hand when I saw him last, that +night before he died."</p> +<p>"Yes? Then after you went up-stairs I suppose he was thinking of +you, and he took out the will to read it over, and maybe left it +out, meaning to lock it up again in the morning."</p> +<p>"And in the morning he was not well," I said, "and perhaps went +away leaving it lying on the book; I remember, Ann said there were +several papers lying on the table, when she arranged the room."</p> +<p>"No doubt," said Richard, "she shut it up in the book it laid +on, and put it on the shelf. But it is all one how it came about. +The will is all correct and duly executed. One of the witnesses was +a clerk, who returned yesterday from South America, where he had +been gone for several months. The other is lying ill at his home in +Westchester, but I have sent to-day and had his deposition taken. +It is all in order, and there can be no dispute."</p> +<p>I think at that moment I should have been glad if it had been +found invalid. There was something so inevitable and final in +Richard's plain and practical words.</p> +<p>Evidently a great change had come in my life, and I could not +help it if I would. I could not but feel the separation from the +person upon whom I had leaned so long, and who had done everything +for me, and I knew this separation was to be a final one; Richard's +words left no doubt of that.</p> +<p>"What you'd better do," he said, leaning by the mantelpiece, "is +to tell the servants about this--this--change in your plans, +to-morrow; unpack, and settle the house to stay here for the +present. In the course of a couple of months it will be time enough +to make up your mind about where you will live. I think, till the +will is admitted and all that, you had better keep things as they +are, and make no change."</p> +<p>He had been so used to thinking for* me, that he could not give +it up at once. "I will tell Sophie to-morrow," he went on. "It will +not be necessary for you to see her if she should come before she +hears of it from me." (Sophie had an engagement with me to go out +on the following morning. He seemed to to have forgotten +nothing.)</p> +<p>"What will Sophie think of me?" I said, with my eyes on the +floor. "Richard, it looks very bad for me; when I was poor, I was +going to marry you, and now that I have money left me, I am going +to break it off."</p> +<p>"What difference does it make how it looks," he said, "when you +know you have done right? I will tell Sophie the truth, that it was +my doing both times, and that you only yielded to my judgment in +the matter. Besides, if she judges you harshly, it need not make +much matter to you. You will never again be thrown intimately with +her, I suppose."</p> +<p>"No, I suppose not," I said faintly. I was being turned out of +my world very fast, and it was not very clear what I was going to +get in exchange for it (except freedom).</p> +<p>"I will send you up money to-morrow morning," he went on, "to +pay the servants, and all that. The clerk I shall send it by, is +the one that I shall put in charge of your matters. You can always +draw on him for money, or ask him any questions, or call on him for +any service, in case I should be away, or ill, or anything."</p> +<p>"You are going away?" I said interrogatively.</p> +<p>"It is possible, for a while--I don't know. I haven't made up my +mind definitely about what I am going to do. But in case I +<i>should</i> be away, I mean, you are to call on him."</p> +<p>"I understand."</p> +<p>"Anything he tells you, about signing papers, and such things, +you may be sure is all right."</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"But don't do anything, without consulting me, for anybody else, +remember."</p> +<p>"I'll remember," I said absently and humbly. It was no wonder +Richard felt I needed somebody to take care of me!</p> +<p>"I believe there's nothing else I wanted to say to you," he said +at last, moving from the mantelpiece where he had been standing; +"at least, nothing that I can't write about, when it occurs to +me."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard!" I said, beginning to cry again, as I knew that +the moment of parting had come, "I don't understand you at all. I +think you take it very calm."</p> +<p>"Isn't that the way to take it?" he said, in a voice that was, +certainly, very calm indeed.</p> +<p>I looked up in his face: he was ten years older. I really was +frightened at the change in him.</p> +<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed, putting my face down in my hands, "I wasn't +worth all I've made you suffer."</p> +<p>"Maybe you weren't," he said simply, "But it wasn't either your +fault or mine--and you couldn't help it--that I wanted you."</p> +<p>He made a quick movement as he passed the table, and my +work-basket fell at his feet, and a little jewel-box rolled across +the floor. It was a ring he had brought me, only three days +before.</p> +<p>He stooped to pick it up, and I saw his features contract as if +in pain, as he laid it back upon the table. And his voice was +unsteady, as he said, not looking at me while he spoke, "I hope you +won't send any of these things back. If there's anything you're +willing to keep, because I gave it to you, I'd like it very much. +The rest send to your church, or somewhere. I don't want to have to +look at them again."</p> +<p>By this time I was sobbing, and, sitting down by the table, had +buried my face on my arms.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry that it makes you feel so," he said, "but it can't be +helped. Don't cry, I can't bear to see you cry. Good-bye, Pauline; +God bless you."</p> +<p>And he was gone. I did not realize it, and did not lift my head, +till I heard the heavy sound of the outer door closing after +him.</p> +<p>Then I knew it was all over, and that things were changed for me +indeed.</p> +<p>"I cannot cry and get over it as you can," he had said.</p> +<p>And if tears would have got me over it, I should have been cured +that night.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV."></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +<h3>MY NEW WORLD.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Few are the fragments left of follies past;<br> +For worthless things are transient. Those that last<br> +Have in them germs of an eternal spirit,<br> +And out of good their permanence inherit.<br> + <i> +Bowring</i>.<br> +<br> + Nor they unblest,<br> +Who underneath the world's bright vest<br> +With sackcloth tame their aching breast,<br> +The sharp-edged cross in jewels hide.<br> + <i> +Keble</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>From eighteen to twenty-four--a long step; and it covers the +ground that is generally the brightest and gayest in a woman's +life, and the most decisive. With me it was, in a certain sense, +bright and gay; but the deciding events of my life seemed to have +been crowded into the year, the story of which has just been told. +Of the six years that came after, there is not much to tell. My +character went on forming itself, no doubt, and interiorly I was +growing in one direction or the other; but in external matters, +there is not much of interest.</p> +<p>I had "no end of money," so it seemed to me, and to a good many +other people, I should think, from the way that they paid me court. +I don't see why it did not turn my head, except that I was what +they call religious, and dreadfully afraid of doing wrong. I was +not my own mistress exactly, either, for I had some one to direct +my conscience, though that was the only direction that I ever had. +I had not the smallest restriction as to money from Richard (to +whom the estate was left in trust); and it had been found much to +exceed his expectations, or those of anybody else.</p> +<p>I had the whole world before me, where to go and what to choose; +not very much stability of character, and the greatest ignorance; a +considerable share of good looks, and the love of pleasure +inseparable from youth and health; absolutely no authority, and any +amount of flattery and temptation. I think it must be agreed, it +was a happy thing for me that I was brought under the influence of +Sister Madeline, and that through her I was made to feel most +afraid of sin, and of myself; and that the life within, the growth +in grace, and the keeping clear my conscience, was made to appear +of more consequence than the life without, that was so full of +pleasures and of snares.</p> +<p>I often think now of the obedience with which I would give up a +party, stay at home alone, and read a good book, because I had been +advised to do it, or because it was a certain day; of the +simplicity with which I would pat away a novel, when its interest +was at the height, because it was the hour for me to read something +different, or because it was Friday, or because I was to learn to +give up doing what I wanted to.</p> +<p>These things, trivial in themselves, and never bound upon my +conscience, only offered as advice, had the effect of breaking up +the constant influence of the world, giving me a little time for +thought, and opportunity for self-denial. I cannot help thinking +such things are very useful for young persons, and particularly +those who have only ordinary force and resolution. At least, I +think they were made a means of security to me. I was so in earnest +to do right, that I often thought, in terror for myself, in the +midst of alluring pleasures and delights, it was a pity they had +not let me be a Sister when I wanted to at first. (I really think I +had more vocation than they thought: I could have <i>given up</i>, +to the end of life, without a murmur, if that is what is +necessary.) As to the people who wanted to marry me, I did not care +for any of them, and seemed to have much less coquetry than of old. +They simply did not interest me, (of course, in a few years, I had +outgrown the love that I had supposed to be so immortal.) It was +very pleasant to be always attended to, and to have more constant +homage than any other young woman whom I saw. But as to liking +particularly any of the men themselves, it never occurred to me to +think of it.</p> +<p>I was placed by my fortunate circumstances rather above the +intrigue, and detraction, and heart-burning, that attends the +social struggle for life in ordinary cases. If I were envied, I did +not know it, and I had small reason to envy anybody else, being +quite the queen.</p> +<p>I enjoyed above measure, the bright and pleasant things that I +had at my command: the sunny rooms of my pretty house: the driving, +the sailing, the dancing: all that charms a healthy young taste, +and is innocent. I took journeys, with the ecstasy of youth and of +good health. I never shall forget the pleasure of certain days and +skies, and the enjoyment that I had in nature. In society, I had a +little more weariness, as I grew older, and found a certain want of +interest, as was inevitable. Society isn't all made up of clever +people, and even clever people get to be tiresome in the course of +time. But at twenty-four I was by no means <i>blasé</i>, +only more addicted to books and journeys, and less enthusiastic +about parties and croquet, though these I could enjoy a little +yet.</p> +<p>I had a pretty house (and re-furnished it very often, which +always gave me pleasure). I had no care, for Richard had arranged +that I should have a very excellent sort of person for duenna, who +had a good deal of tact, and didn't bore me, and was shrewd enough +to make things very smooth. I liked her very much, though I think +now she was something of a hypocrite. But she had enough principle +to make things very respectable, and I never took her for a friend. +We had very pretty little dinners, and little evenings when anybody +wanted them, though the house wasn't very large. My duenna (by name +Throckmorton) liked journeys as well as I did, and never objected +to going anywhere. Altogether we were very comfortable.</p> +<p>The people whom I had known in that first year of my social +existence, had drifted away from me a good deal in this new life. +Sophie I could not help meeting sometimes, for she was still a gay +woman, but I naturally belonged to a younger set, and did not go +very long into general society. We still disliked each other with +the cordiality of our first acquaintance, but I was very sorry for +it, and had a great many repentances about it after every meeting. +Kilian I met a good deal, but we rather avoided each other, at +short range, though exceedingly good friends to the general +observation.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton I seldom saw; no doubt she was consumed with envy +when she heard of me, for they were poor, and not able to keep up +with gay life as would have pleased her. She still maintained her +intimacy with Kilian, for he had not the resolution to break off a +flirtation of which, I was sure, he must be very tired.</p> +<p>Henrietta had married very well, two years after I saw her at +R----, and was the staid, placid matron that she was always meant +to be.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson was the clever woman still: a little +stronger-minded, and no less good-looking than of old, and no more. +People were beginning to say that she would not marry, though she +was only twenty-six. She did not go much to parties, and was not in +my set. She affected art and lectures, and excursions to mountains, +and campings-out, and unconventionalities, and no doubt had a good +time in her way. But it was not my way: and so we seldom met. When +we did, she did not show much more respect for me than of old, +which always had the effect of making me feel angry.</p> +<p>And as for Richard, we could not have been much further apart, +if he had lived "in England and I at Rotterdam." For a year, while +he was settling up the estate, he was closely in the city. I did +not see him more than once or twice, all business being transacted +through his lawyer, and the clerk of whom he had spoken to me. +After the business matters of the estate were all in order, he went +away, intending, I believe, to stay a year or two. But he came back +before many months were over, and settled down into the routine of +business life, which now seemed to have become necessary to +him.</p> +<p>Travel was only a weariness to him in his state of mind; and +work, and city-life, seemed the panacea. He did not live with +Sophie, but took apartments, which he furnished plainly; and seemed +settling down, according to his brother, into much of the sort of +life that Uncle Leonard had led so many years in Varick-street.</p> +<p>Sophie still went to R----, and I often heard of the pleasant +parties there in summer. But Richard seldom went, and seemed to +have lost his interest in the place, though I have no doubt he +spent more money on it than before. I heard of many improvements +every year.</p> +<p>And Richard was now a man of wealth, so much so that people +talked about him; and the newspapers said, in talking about +real-estate, or investments, or institutions of charity--"When such +men as Richard Vandermarck allow their names to appear, we may be +sure," etc., etc. He was now the head of the firm, and one of the +first business men of the city. He seemed a great deal older than +he was; thirty-seven is young to occupy the place he held.</p> +<p>Such a <i>parti</i> could not be let alone entirely. His course +was certainly discouraging, and it needs tough hopes to live on +nothing. But stranger things had happened; more obdurate men had +yielded; and unappropriated loveliness hoped on. The story of an +early attachment was afloat in connection with his name. I don't +know whether I was made to play a part in it or not.</p> +<p>I saw him, perhaps, twice a year, not oftener. His manner was +always, to me, peculiarly grave and kind; to every one, practical +and unpretending. I had many letters from him, particularly when I +was away on journeys. He seemed always to want to know exactly +where I was, and to feel a care of me, though his letters never +went beyond business matters, and advice about things I did not +understand.</p> +<p>As my guardian, he could not have done less, nor was it +necessary that he should do more; still I often wished it would +occur to him to come and see me oftener, and give me an opportunity +of showing him how much I had improved, and how different I had +become. I had the greatest respect for his opinion; and he had +grown, unconsciously to myself, to be a sort of oracle with me, and +a sort of hero, too.</p> +<p>I was apt to compare other men with him, and they fell very far +short of his measure in my eyes. That may have been because I saw +him much too seldom, and the other men much too often.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV."></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +<h3>BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,<br> +And love me still, but know not why;<br> + So hast thou the same reason still<br> + To doat upon me ever!</blockquote> +<br> +<p>"It's very nice to be at home again," I said to Mrs. +Throckmorton, as I broke a great lump of coal in pieces, and +watched the flames with pleasure.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Throckmorton, putting another piece of sugar in +her coffee, for she was still at the table. "That is, if you call +this home; I must confess it doesn't feel so to me altogether."</p> +<p>"Well, it's our own dear, noisy, raging, racketing, bustling old +city, if it isn't our own house, and I'm sure we're very +comfortable."</p> +<p>"Very," said Mrs. Throckmorton, who was always pleased.</p> +<p>"Every time I hear the tinkle of a car-bell, or the roar of an +omnibus, I feel a thrill of pleasure," I said; "I never was so glad +to get anywhere before."</p> +<p>"That's something new, isn't it?" said Mrs. Throckmorton, +briefly.</p> +<p>"I don't know; I think I am always glad to get back home."</p> +<p>"And very glad to go away again too, my dear."</p> +<p>"I don't think I shall travel any more," I returned. "The fact +is, I am getting too old to care about it, I believe."</p> +<p>Mrs. Throckmorton laughed, being considerably over forty, and +still as fond of going about as ever.</p> +<p>We were only <i>de retour</i> two days. We had started eighteen +months ago, for at least three years in Europe, and I had found +myself unaccountably tired of it at the end of a year and a half; +and here we were.</p> +<p>Our house was rented, but that I had not allowed to be any +obstacle, though Mrs. Throckmorton, who was very well satisfied +with the easy life abroad, had tried to make it so. I had secured +apartments which were very pretty and complete. We had found them +in order, and we had come there from the steamer. I was eminently +happy at being where I wanted to be.</p> +<p>"How odd it seems to be in town and have nobody know it," I +said, thinking, with a little quiet satisfaction, how pleased +several people I could name would be, if they only knew we were so +near them.</p> +<p>"Nobody but Mr. Vandermarck, I suppose," said Mrs. +Throckmorton.</p> +<p>"Not even he," I answered, "for he can't have got my letter yet; +it was only mailed the day we started. It was only a chance, you +know, our getting those staterooms, and we were in such a hurry. I +was so much obliged to that dear, old German gentleman for dying. +We shouldn't have been here if he hadn't."</p> +<p>"Pauline, my dear!"</p> +<p>"Well, I can't think, as he's probably in heaven, that he can +have begrudged us his tickets to New York."</p> +<p>"I should think not," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with a little +sigh. For New York was not heaven to her, and she had spent a good +deal of the day in looking up the necessary servants for our +establishment, which, little as it was, required just double the +number that had made us comfortable abroad.</p> +<p>She had too much discretion to trouble me with her cares, +however, so she said cheerfully, after a few moments, by way of +diverting my mind and her own--</p> +<p>"Well, I heard some news to-day."</p> +<p>"Ah!"--(I had been unpacking all day; and Mrs. Throckmorton in +the interval of servant-hunting had not been able to refrain from a +visit or two, <i>en passant</i> to dear friends.)</p> +<p>"Yes: Kilian Vandermarck was married yesterday."</p> +<p>"Yesterday! how odd. And pray, who has he married? Not Mary +Leighton, I should hope."</p> +<p>"Leighton. Yes, that's the name. No money, and a little +<i>passé</i>. Everybody wonders."</p> +<p>"Well, he deserves it. That is even-handed justice, I'm not +sorry for him. He's been trifling all his days, and now he's got +his punishment. It serves Sophie right, too. I know she can't +endure her. She never thought there was the slightest danger. But +I'm sorry for Richard, that he's got to have such a girl related to +him."</p> +<p>"Oh, well," said Mrs. Throckmorton, "I don't know whether +that'll affect him very much, for they say he's going to be married +too."</p> +<p>"Richard!"</p> +<p>"Yes; and to that Benson girl, you know."</p> +<p>"Who told you?"</p> +<p>"Mary Ann. She's heard it half a dozen times, she says. I +believe it's rather an old affair. His sister made it up, I'm told. +The young lady's been spending the summer with them, and this +autumn it came out."</p> +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> +<p>"I'm sure I don't know; only that's the talk. It would be odd, +though, if we'd just come home in time for the wedding. You'll have +to give her something handsome, being your guardian, and all."</p> +<p>I wouldn't give her anything, and she shouldn't marry Richard, I +thought, as I leaned back in my chair and looked into the fire; a +great silence having fallen on us since the delivery of that piece +of news.</p> +<p>I said I didn't believe it, and yet I'm afraid I did. It was so +like a man to give in at last; at least, like any man but Richard. +He had always liked Charlotte Benson, and known how clever she was, +and Sophie had been so set upon it, (particularly since Richard had +had so much money that he had given her a handsome settlement that +nothing would affect.) And now that Kilian was married and would +have the place, unless Richard wanted it, it was natural that +Sophie should approve Richard having <i>his</i> wife there instead +of Kilian having his; Kilian's being one that nobody particularly +approved.</p> +<p>Yes, it did sound very much like probability. I wasn't given to +self-analysis; but I acknowledged to myself, that I was very much +disappointed, and that if I had known that this was going to +happen, I should have stayed in Europe.</p> +<p>I had never felt as if there were any chance of Richard marrying +any one; I had not said to myself, that his love for me still had +an existence, nor had I any reason to believe it. But the truth had +been, I had always felt that he belonged to me, and was my right, +and I felt a bitter resentment toward this woman, who was supposed +to have usurped my place. How <i>dared</i> Richard love anybody +else! I was angry with him, and very much hurt, and very, very +unhappy.</p> +<p>Long after Mrs. Throckmorton went to her middle-aged repose, I +sat up and went through imaginary scenes, and reviewed the +situation a hundred times, and tried to convince myself of what I +wanted to believe, and ended without any satisfaction.</p> +<p>One thing was certain. If Richard was going to marry Charlotte +Benson, he was not going to do it because he loved her. He might +not be prevented from doing it because he loved me; but he did not +love her. I could not say why exactly. But I knew she was not the +kind of woman for him to think of loving, and I would not believe +it till I heard it from himself, and I would hear it from himself +at the earliest possible date. I did not like to be unhappy, and +was very impatient to get rid of this, if it were not true, and to +know the worst, at once, if it were.</p> +<p>"My dear Throcky," I said to my companion, at the +breakfast-table, "I think you'd better go and take dinner with your +niece to-day. I've sent for Mr. Vandermarck to come and dine, and I +thought perhaps you'd rather not be bored; we shall have business +to talk about, and business is such a nuisance when you're not +interested in it."</p> +<p>"Very well, my dear," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with +indestructible good-humor.</p> +<p>"Or you might have a headache, if you'd rather, and I'll send +your dinner up to you. I'll be sure Susan takes you everything +that's nice."</p> +<p>"Well, then, I think I'll have a headache; I'm afraid I'd rather +have it than one of Mary Ann's poor dinners. (I'd be sure of one +to-morrow if I went.)"</p> +<p>"Paris things have spoiled you, I'm afraid," I said. "Only see +that I have something nice for Richard, won't you?--How do you +think the cook is going to do?" This was the first sign of interest +I had given in the matter of <i>ménage</i>; by which it will +be seen I was still a little selfish, and not very wise. But +Throckmorton was a person to cultivate my selfishness, and there +had not been much to develop the wisdom of common life.</p> +<p>She promised me a very pretty dinner, no matter at what trouble, +and made me feel quite easy about her wounded feelings. One of the +best features of Throckmorton was, she hadn't any feelings; you +might treat her like a galley-slave, and she would show the least +dejection. It was a temptation to have such a person in the +house.</p> +<p>I had sent a note to Richard which contained the following:</p> +<blockquote>"DEAR RICHARD:<br> +<br> +"I am sure you will be surprised to know we have returned. But the +fact is, I got very tired of Italy; and we were disappointed in the +apartments we wanted in Berlin, and some of the people we expected +to have with us had to give it up, and altogether it seemed dull, +and we thought it would be just as pleasant to come home. We were +able to get staterooms that just suited us, and it didn't seem +worth while to lose them by waiting to send word. We had a very +comfortable voyage, and I am glad to find myself at home, though +Mrs. Throckmorton doesn't think the rooms are very nice. I want to +know if you won't come to dinner. We dine at six. Send a line back +by the boy. I want to ask you about some business matters.<br> +<br> +"Affectionately yours,<br> +<br> +"PAULINE."</blockquote> +<p>And I had received for answer:</p> +<blockquote>"MY DEAR PAULINE:<br> +<br> +"Of course I am astonished to think you are at home. I enclosed you +several letters by the steamer yesterday, none of them of any very +great importance, though, I think. I will come up at six.<br> +<br> +"Always yours,<br> +<br> +"RICHARD VANDERMARCK.<br> +<br> +"P.S. I am very glad you wanted to come home."</blockquote> +<p>I read this letter over a great many times, but it did not +enlighten me at all as to his intentions about marrying Charlotte +Benson. It was very matter-of-fact, but that Richard's letters +always were. Evidently he had thought the same of it himself, as he +read it over, and had added the postscript. But that did not seem +very enthusiastic. Altogether I was not happy, waiting for six +o'clock to come.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI."></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +<h3>A DINNER</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Time and chance are but a tide,<br> +Slighted love is sair to bide.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the +door was standing open between them, as I walked up and down the +parlor, waiting nervously for Richard to arrive. The fire was +bright, and the only light in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, +which we had brought from Italy. There were flowers on the table, +and in two or three vases, and the curtains were pretty, and there +were several large mirrors. Outside, it was the twilight of a dark +autumnal day; almost night already, and the lamps were lit. It +lacked several minutes of six when Richard came. I felt very much +agitated when he entered the room. It was a year and a half since I +had seen him: besides, this piece of news! But he looked just the +same as ever, and I had not the self-possession to note whether he +seemed agitated at meeting me. I do not know exactly what we talked +about for the first few moments, probably I was occupied in trying +to excuse myself for coming home so suddenly, for I found Richard +was not altogether pleased at not having been informed, and thought +there must be something yet to tell. He was not used to feminine +caprice, and I began to feel a good deal ashamed of myself. I had +to remind myself, more than once, that I was not responsible to any +one.</p> +<p>"I just felt like it," was such a very weak explanation to offer +to this grave business-man, for disarranging two years of +carefully-laid plans.</p> +<p>I found I was getting to be a little afraid of Richard: we had +been so long apart, and he had grown so much older.</p> +<p>"I hope, at least, you are not going to scold me for it," I said +at last, with a little laugh, feeling that was my best way out of +it. "I shall think you are not glad, to see me."</p> +<p>"I am glad to see you," he said, gravely; "and as to scolding, +it's so long since you've given me an opportunity, I should not +know how to go to work."</p> +<p>"Do you mean, because I've been away so long, or because I've +been so good?"</p> +<p>Susan, who had been watching her opportunity, now appeared in +the dining-room door, and said that dinner was on the table.</p> +<p>Richard asked for Mrs. Throckmorton when we sat down to dinner. +I told him she was dining with her niece. (She had reconsidered the +question of the headache, and had gone to hear more news.) The +dinner was very nice, and very nicely served; but somehow, Richard +did not seem to enjoy it very much, that is, not as I had been in +the habit lately of seeing men enjoy their meals.</p> +<p>"I am afraid you are getting like Uncle Leonard, and only care +about Wall-street," I said. "I shouldn't wonder if you forgot to +order your dinner half the time, and took the same thing for +breakfast every morning in the year."</p> +<p>"That's just exactly how it is," he said. "If Sophie did not +come down to my quarters every week or two, and regulate affairs a +little, I don't know where I should be, in the matter of my +dinners."</p> +<p>"How is Sophie?" I said.</p> +<p>"Very well. I saw her yesterday. I went to put Charley in +College for her."</p> +<p>"I can't think of Charley as a young man."</p> +<p>"Yes, Charley is a strapping fellow, within two inches of my +height."</p> +<p>"Impossible! And where is Benny?"</p> +<p>"At school here in town. His mother will not let him go to +boarding-school. He is a nice boy: I think there's more in him than +Charley."</p> +<p>"And I hear Kilian is married!"</p> +<p>"Yes. Kilian is married--the very day you landed, too."</p> +<p>"Well," I said, with a little dash of temper, "I'm very sorry +for you all. I did not think Kilian was going to be so +foolish."</p> +<p>"He thinks he's very wise, though, all the same," said Richard, +with a smile, which turned into a sigh before he had done +speaking.</p> +<p>"I do dislike her so," I exclaimed, warmly. "There isn't an +honest or straightforward thing about her. She is weak, too; her +only strength is her suppleness and cunning."</p> +<p>"I know you never liked her," said Richard, gravely; "but I hope +you'll try to think better of her now."</p> +<p>"I hope I shall never have to see her," I answered, with angry +warmth.</p> +<p>Richard was silent, and I was very much ashamed of myself a +moment after. I had meant him to see how much improved I was, and +how well disciplined. This was a pretty exhibition! I had not +spoken so of any one for a year, at least. I colored with +mortification and penitence. Richard evidently saw it, and felt +sorry for me, for he said, most kindly,</p> +<p>"I can understand exactly how you feel, Pauline. This marriage +is a great trial to me. I have done all I could to keep Kilian from +throwing himself away, but I might as well have argued with the +winds."</p> +<p>"I don't care how much Kilian throws himself away," I said, +impulsively. "He deserves it for keeping around her all these +years. But I do mind that she is your sister, and that she will be +mistress of the house at R----."</p> +<p>There was an awful silence then. Heavens! what had I been +thinking about to have said that! I had precipitated the +<i>dénouement</i>, and I had not meant to. I did not want to +hear it that moment, if he were going to marry Charlotte Benson, +nor did I want to hear it, if he were saving the old place for me. +I felt as if I had given the blow that would bring the whole +structure down, and I waited for the crash in frightened +silence.</p> +<p>In the meantime the business of the table went on. I ate half a +chicken croquette, and Susan placed the salad before Richard, and +another plate. He did not speak till he had put the salad on his +plate; then he said, without looking at me, in a voice a good deal +lower than was usual to him,</p> +<p>"She is not to be mistress of that house. They will live in +town."</p> +<p>Then I felt cold and chilled to my very heart; it was well that +he did not expect me to speak, for I could not have commanded my +voice enough to have concealed my agitation. I knew very well from +that moment that he was going to marry Charlotte Benson. Something +that was said a little later was a confirmation.</p> +<p>I had recovered myself enough to talk about ordinary things, and +to keep strictly to them, too. Richard was talking of the great +heat of the past summer. I had said it had been unparalleled in +France; had he not found it very uncomfortable here in town?</p> +<p>"I have been out of town so much, I can hardly say how it has +been here," he answered. "I was all of August in the country; only +coming to the city twice."</p> +<p>My heart sank: that was just what they had said; he had been a +great deal at home this summer, and she had been there all the +time.</p> +<p>The dinner was becoming terribly <i>ennuyant</i>, and I wished +with all my heart Throckmorton had been contented with just half +the courses. Richard did not seem to enjoy them, and I--I was so +wretched I could scarcely say a word, much less eat a morsel. It +had been a great mistake to invite him to take dinner; it was being +too familiar, when he had put me at such a distance all these +years: I wished for Mrs. Throckmorton with all my heart. Why had I +sent her off? Richard was evidently so constrained, and it was in +such bad taste to have asked him here; it could not help putting +thoughts in both our minds, sitting alone at a table opposite each +other, as we should have been sitting daily if that horrid will had +not been found. He had dined with us just twice before, but that +was at dinner-parties, when there had been ever so many people +between us, and when I had not said six words to him during the +whole evening.</p> +<p>The only excuse I could offer, and that he could understand, +would be that I wanted to talk business to him; I had said in my +note that I wanted to consult him about something, and I must keep +that in mind. I had wanted to ask him about a house I thought of +buying, adjoining the Sisters' Hospital, to enlarge their work; but +I was so wicked and worldly, I felt just then as if I did not care +whether they had a house or not, or whether they did any work. +However, I resolved to speak about it, when we had got away from +the table, if we ever did.</p> +<p>Susan kept bringing dish after dish.</p> +<p>"Oh, we don't want any of that!" I exclaimed, at last, +impatiently; "do take it away, and tell them to send in the +coffee."</p> +<p>I was resolved upon one thing: Richard should tell me of his +engagement before he went away; it would be dishonorable and unkind +if he did not, and I should make him do it. I was not quite sure +that I had self-control enough not to show how it made me feel, +when it came to hearing it all in so many words. But in very truth, +I had not much pride as regarded him; I felt so sore-hearted and +unhappy, I did not care much whether he knew it or suspected +it.</p> +<p>I could not help remembering how little concealment he had made +of his love for me, even when he knew that all the heart I had was +given to another. I would be very careful not to precipitate the +disclosure, however, while we sat at table; it is so disagreeable +to talk to any one on an agitating subject <i>vis-à-vis</i> +across a little dinner-table, with a bright light overhead, and a +servant walking around, able to stop and study you from any point +she pleases.</p> +<p>Coffee came at last, though even that, Susan was unwilling to +look upon as the legitimate finale, and had her views about +liqueur, instructed by Throckmorton. But I cut it short by getting +up and saying, "I'm sure you'll be glad to go into the parlor; it +gets warm so soon in these little rooms."</p> +<p>The parlor was very cool and pleasant; a window had been open, +and the air was fresh, and the flowers were delicious, and the lamp +was softer and pleasanter than the gas. I went to break up the coal +and make the fire blaze, and Richard to shut the window down.</p> +<p>When I had pulled a chair up to the fire and seated myself, he +stood leaning on the mantelpiece, on the other side from me. I felt +sure he meant to go, the minute that he could get away--a committee +meeting, no doubt, or some such nauseous fraud. But he should not +go away until he had told me, that was certain.</p> +<p>"What is it that you wanted to ask me about, Pauline?" he said, +rather abruptly.</p> +<p>My heart gave a great thump; how could he have known? Oh, it was +the business that I had spoken of in my stupid note. Yes; and I +began to explain to him what I wanted to do about the hospital.</p> +<p>He looked infinitely relieved. I believe he had an idea it was +something very different. My explanation could not have added much +to his reverence for my business ability. I was very indefinite, +and could not tell him whether it was hundreds or thousands that I +meant.</p> +<p>He said, with a smile, he thought it must be thousands, as city +property was so very high. He was very kind, however, about the +matter, and did not discourage me at all. He always seemed to +approve of my desire to give away in charity, and, within bounds, +always furthered such plans of doing good. He said he would look +into it, and would write me word next week what his impression was; +and then, I think, he meant to go away.</p> +<p>Then I began talking on every subject I could think of, hoping +some of the roads would lead to Rome. But none of them led there, +and I was in despair.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't you want to look at some photographs?" I said, at +last, thinking I saw an opening for my wedge. I got the package, +and he came to the table and looked at them, standing up. They were +naturally of much more interest to me than to him, being of places +and people with which I had so lately been familiar.</p> +<p>But he looked at them very kindly, and asked a good many +questions about them.</p> +<p>"Look at this," I said, handing him an Antwerp peasant-woman in +her hideous bonnet. "Isn't that ridiculously like Charlotte Benson? +I bought it because it was so singular a resemblance."</p> +<p>"It is like her," he said, thoughtfully, looking at it long. +"The mouth is a little larger and the eyes further apart. But it is +a most striking likeness. It might almost have been taken for +her."</p> +<p>"How is she, and when have you seen her?" I said, a little +choked for breath.</p> +<p>"She is very well. I saw her yesterday," he answered, still +looking at the little picture.</p> +<p>"Was she with Sophie this summer?"</p> +<p>"Yes, for almost two months."</p> +<p>"I hope she doesn't keep everybody in order as sharply as she +used to?" I said, with a bitter little laugh.</p> +<p>"I don't know," he said. "I think, perhaps, she is rather less +decided than she used to be."</p> +<p>"Oh, you call it decision, do you? Well, I'm glad I know what it +is. I used to think it hadn't such a pretty name as that."</p> +<p>Richard looked grave; it certainly was not a graceful way to +lead up to congratulations.</p> +<p>"But then, you always liked her," I said.</p> +<p>"Yes, I always liked her," he answered, simply.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I'm not very amiable," I retorted, "for I never +liked her: no better even than that fraudulent Mary Leighton, +clever and sensible as she always was. There is such a thing as +being too clever, and too sensible, and making yourself an offence +to all less admirable people."</p> +<p>Richard was entirely silent, and, I was sure, was disapproving +of me very much.</p> +<p>"Do you know what I heard yesterday?" I said, In a daring way. +"And I hope you're going to tell me if it's true, to-night?"</p> +<p>"What was it that you heard yesterday?" he asked, without much +change of tone. He had laid down the photograph, and had gone back, +and was leaning by the mantelpiece again.</p> +<p>"Why, I heard that you were going to marry Charlotte Benson. Is +it true?"</p> +<p>I had pushed away the pile of photographs from me, and had +looked up at him when I began, but my voice and courage rather +failed before the end, and my eyes fell. There was a silence--a +silence that seemed to stifle me.</p> +<p>"Why do you ask me that question?" he said, at last, in a low +voice. "Do you believe I am, yourself?"</p> +<p>"No," I cried, springing up, and going over to his side. "No, I +don't believe it. Tell me it isn't true, and promise me you won't +ever, ever marry Charlotte Benson."</p> +<p>The relief was so unspeakable that I didn't care what I said, +and the joy I felt showed itself in my face and voice. I put out my +hand to him when I said "promise me," but he did not take it, and +turned his head away from me.</p> +<p>"I shall not marry Charlotte Benson," he said; "but I cannot +understand what difference it makes to you."</p> +<p>It was now my turn to be silent, and I shrank back a step or two +in great confusion.</p> +<p>He raised his head, and looked steadily at me for a moment, and +then said:</p> +<p>"Pauline, you did a great many things, but I don't think you +ever willingly deceived me. Did you?"</p> +<p>I shook my head without looking lip.</p> +<p>"Then be careful what you do now, and let the past alone," he +said, and his voice was almost stern.</p> +<p>I trembled, and turned pale.</p> +<p>"Women sometimes play with dangerous weapons," he said; "I don't +accuse you of meaning to give pain, but only of forgetting that +some recollections are not to you what they are to me. I never want +to interfere with any one's comfort or enjoyment; I only want to be +let alone. I do very well, and am not unhappy. About marrying, now +or ever, I should have thought you would have known. But let me +tell you once for all: I haven't any thought of it, and shall not +ever have. It is not that I am holding to any foolish hopes. It +would be exactly the same if you were married, or had died. It +simply isn't in my nature to feel the same way a second time. +People are made differently, that is all. I'm very well contented, +and you need never let it worry you."</p> +<p>He was very pale now, and his eyes had an expression I had never +seen in them before.</p> +<p>"Richard," I said, faintly, "I never <i>have</i> deceived you: +believe me now when I tell you, I am sorry from my heart for all +that's past."</p> +<p>"You told me so before, and I did forgive you. I forgave you +fully, and have never had a thought that wasn't kind."</p> +<p>"I know it," I said. "But you do not trust me--you don't ever +come near me, or want to see me."</p> +<p>"You do not know what you are talking of," he answered, turning +from me. "I forgive you anything you may have done at any time to +give me pain. I will do everything I can to serve you, in every way +I can; only do not stir up the past, and let me forget the little +of it that I can forget."</p> +<p>I burst into tears, and put my hands before my face.</p> +<p>"What is it?" he said, uneasily. "You need not be troubled about +me."</p> +<p>Seeing that I did not stop, he said again, "Tell me: is it that +that troubles you?"</p> +<p>I shook my head.</p> +<p>"What is it, then? Something that I do not know about? Pauline, +you are unhappy, and yet you've everything in the world to make you +happy. I often think, there are not many women have as much."</p> +<p>"The poorest of them are better off than I," I said, without +raising my head.</p> +<p>"Then you are ungrateful," he said, "for you have youth, and +health, and money, and everybody likes you. You could choose from +all the world."</p> +<p>"No, I couldn't," I exclaimed, like a child; "and everybody +doesn't like me,"--and then I cried again, for I was really in +despair, and thought he meant to put me away, memory and all.</p> +<p>"Well, if that's your trouble," he said, with a sigh, "I suppose +I cannot help you; but I'm very sorry."</p> +<p>"Yes, you <i>can</i> help me," I cried imploringly, forgetting +all I ought to have remembered; "if you only would forgive me, +really and in earnest, and be friends again--and let me try--" and +I covered my face with my hands.</p> +<p>"Pauline," he said, standing by my side, and his voice almost +frightened me, it was so strong with feeling; "is this a piece of +sentiment? Do you mean anything? Or am I to be trifled with +again?"</p> +<p>He took hold of my wrists with both his hands, with such force +as to give me pain, and drew them from my face.</p> +<p>"Look at me," he said, "and tell me what you mean; and decide +now--forever and forever. For this is the last time that you will +have a chance to say."</p> +<p>"It's all very well," I said, trying to turn my face away from +him. "It's all very well to talk about loving me yet, and being +just the same; but this isn't the way you used to talk, and I think +it's very hard--"</p> +<p>"That isn't answering me," he said, holding me closer to +him.</p> +<p>"What shall I say," I whispered, hiding my face upon his arm. +"Nothing will ever satisfy you."</p> +<p>"Nothing ever <i>has</i> satisfied me," he said, "--before."</p> +<br> +<br> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12348 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3612fae --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12348 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12348) diff --git a/old/12348-8.txt b/old/12348-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6daec46 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12348-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8247 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Richard Vandermarck, by Miriam Coles Harris + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Richard Vandermarck + +Author: Miriam Coles Harris + +Release Date: May 14, 2004 [eBook #12348] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: iso-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD VANDERMARCK*** + + +E-text prepared by Curtis Weyant, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +RICHARD VANDERMARCK + +A Novel + +By MRS. SIDNEY S. HARRIS + +Author of "Rutledge," "St. Phillips," etc., etc. + +1871 + + + + + + + +To S.S.H. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I. +VARICK-STREET + +CHAPTER II. +VERY GOOD LUCK + +CHAPTER III. +KILIAN + +CHAPTER IV. +MY COMPANIONS + +CHAPTER V. +THE TUTOR + +CHAPTER VI. +MATINAL + +CHAPTER VII. +THREE WEEKS TOO LATE + +CHAPTER VIII. +SUNDAY + +CHAPTER IX. +A DANCE + +CHAPTER X. +EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN. + +CHAPTER XI. +SOPHIE'S WORK + +CHAPTER XII. +PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME + +CHAPTER XIV. +GUARDED + +CHAPTER XV. +I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM + +CHAPTER XVI. +AUGUST THIRTIETH + +CHAPTER XVII. +BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN + +CHAPTER XVIII. +A JOURNEY + +CHAPTER XIX. +SISTER MADELINE + +CHAPTER XX. +THE HOUR OF DAWN + +CHAPTER XXI. +APRÉS PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN + +CHAPTER XXII. +A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON + +CHAPTER XXIII. +A REVERSAL + +CHAPTER XXIV. +MY NEW WORLD + +CHAPTER XXV. +BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU + +CHAPTER XXVI. +A DINNER + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +VARICK STREET. + + O for one spot of living green, + One little spot where leaves can grow,-- + To love unblamed, to walk unseen, + To dream above, to sleep below! + + _Holmes_. + + + There are in this loud stunning tide, + Of human care and crime, + With whom the melodies abide + Of th' everlasting chime; + + * * * * * + + And to wise hearts this certain hope is given; + "No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven." + + _Keble._ + + +I never knew exactly how the invitation came; I felt very much honored +by it, though I think now, very likely the honor was felt to be upon the +other side. I was exceedingly young, and exceedingly ignorant, not +seventeen, and an orphan, living in the house of an uncle, an unmarried +man of nearly seventy, wholly absorbed in business, and not much more +interested in me than in his clerks and servants. + +I had come under his protection, a little girl of two years old, and had +been in his house ever since. I had had as good care as a very ordinary +class of servants could give me, and was supplied with some one to teach +me, and had as much money to spend as was good for me--perhaps more; and +I do not feel inclined to say my uncle did not do his duty, for I do not +think he knew of anything further to do; and strictly speaking, I had no +claim on him, for I was only a great-niece, and there were those living +who were more nearly related to me, and who were abundantly able to +provide for me, if they had been willing to do it. + +When I came in to the household, its wants were attended to by a cook +and a man-servant, who had lived many years with my uncle. A third +person was employed as my nurse, and a great deal of quarrelling was the +result of her coming. I quite wonder my uncle did not put me away at +board somewhere, rather than be disturbed. But in truth, I do not +believe that the quarrelling disturbed him much, or that he paid much +attention to the matter, and so the matter settled itself. My nurses +were changed very often, by will of the cook and old Peter, and I never +was happy enough to have one who had very high principle, or was more +than ordinarily good-tempered. + +I don't know who selected my teachers; probably they applied for +employment and were received. They were very business-like and +unsuggestive people. I was of no more interest to them than a bale of +goods, I believe. Indeed, I seemed likely to go a bale of goods through +life; everything that was done for me was done for money, and with a +view to the benefit of the person serving me. I was not sent to school, +which was a very great pity; it was owing to the fact, no doubt, that +somebody applied to my uncle to teach me at home, and so the system was +inaugurated, and never received a second thought, and I went on being +taught at home till I was seventeen. + +The "home" was as follows; a large dark house on the unsunny side of a +dull street; furniture that had not been changed for forty years, walls +that were seldom repainted, windows that were rarely opened. The +neighborhood had been for many years unfashionable and undesirable, and, +by the time I was grown up, nobody would have lived in it, who had cared +to have a cheerful home, I might almost have said, a respectable one, I +fancy ours was nearly the only house in the block occupied by its owner; +the others, equally large, were rented for tenement houses, or +boarding-houses, and perhaps for many things worse. It was probably +owing to this fact, that my uncle gave orders, once for all, I was never +to go into the street alone; and I believe, in my whole life, I had +never taken a walk unaccompanied by a servant, or one of my teachers. + +A very dull life indeed. I wonder how I endured it. The rooms were so +dismal, the windows so uneventful. If it had not been for a room in the +garret where I had my playthings, and where the sun came all day long, I +am sure I should have been a much worse and more unhappy child. As I +grew older, I tried to adorn my room (my own respectable sleeping room, +I mean), with engravings, and the little ornaments that I could buy. But +it was a hopeless attempt. The walls were so high and so dingy, the +little pictures were lost upon them; and the vases on the great black +mantel-shelf looked so insignificant, I felt ashamed of them, and owned +the unfitness of decorating such a room. No flowers would grow in those +cold north windows--no bird would sing in sight of such a street. I gave +it up with a sigh; and there was one good instinct lost. + +When I was about eleven, I fell foul of some good books. If it had not +been for them, I truly do not see how I could have known that I was not +to lie or steal, and that God was to be worshipped. Certainly, I had had +hands slapped many times for taking things I had been forbidden to +touch, and had had many a battle in consequence of "telling stories," +with the servants of the house, but I had always recognized the personal +spite of the punishments, and they had not carried with them any +moral lesson. + +I had sometimes gone to church; but the sermons in large city churches +are not generally elementary, and I did not understand those that I +heard at all. Occasionally I went with the nurse to Vespers, and that I +thought delightful. I was enraptured with the pictures, the music, the +rich clothes of the priests; if it had not been for the bad odor of the +neighboring worshippers, I think I might have rushed into the bosom of +the Church of Rome. But that offended sense restrained me. And so, as I +said, if I had not obtained access to some books of holy and pure +influence, and been starved by the dullness of the life around me into +taking hold of them with eagerness, I should have led the life of a +little heathen in the midst of light. Of course the books were not +written for my especial case, nor were they books for children,--and so, +much was supposed, and not expressed, and consequently the truth they +imparted to me was but fragmentary. But it was truth, and the +influence was holy. + +I was driven to books; I do not believe I had any more desire than most +vivid, palpitating, fluttering young things of my sex, to pore over a +dull black and white page; but this black and white gate opened to me +golden fields of happiness, while I was perishing of hunger in a life of +dreary fact. + +When I was about sixteen, however, an outside human influence, not +written in black and white, came into the current of my existence. About +that time, my uncle took into his firm, as junior partner, a young man +who had long been a clerk in the house. After his promotion he often +came home with my uncle to dinner. I think this was done, perhaps, with +a view of civil treatment, on the first occasion; but afterward, it was +continued because my uncle could not bear to leave business when he left +the office, and because he could talk on the matters which were dearer +to him than his dinner, with this junior, in whom he took unqualified +delight. He often wrote letters in the evening, which my uncle dictated, +and he sometimes did not go away till eleven o'clock at night. The first +time he came, I did not notice him very much. It was not unusual for +Uncle Leonard to be accompanied by some gentleman who talked business +with him during dinner; and being naturally shy, and moreover, on this +occasion, in the middle of a very interesting book, at once timid and +indifferent, I slipped away from the table the moment that I could. But +upon the third or fourth occasion of his being there, I became +interested, finding often a pair of handsome eyes fixed on me, and being +occasionally addressed and made a partner in the conversation. Uncle +Leonard very rarely talked to me, and I think found me in the way when +Richard Vandermarck made the talk extend to me. + +But this was the beginning of a very much improved era for me. I lost my +shyness, and my fear of Uncle Leonard, and indeed, I think, my frantic +thirst for books, and became quite a young lady. We were great friends; +he brought me books, he told me about other people, he opened a thousand +doors of interest and pleasure to me. I never can enumerate all I owed +to him. My dull life was changed, and the house owed him gratitude. + +We began to have the gas lighted in the parlor, and even Uncle Leonard +came in there sometimes and sat after dinner, before he went up into +that dreary library above. I think he rather enjoyed hearing us talk +gayly across his sombre board; he certainly became softer and more human +toward me after Richard came to be so constantly a guest. He gave me +more money to spend, (that was always the expression of his feelings, +his language, so to speak;) he made various inquiries and improvements +about the house. The dinners themselves were improved, for a horrible +monotony had crept into the soups and sauces of forty years; and Uncle +Leonard was no epicure; he seemed to have no more stomach than he had +heart; brain and pocket made the man. + +I think unconsciously he was much influenced by Richard, whose business +talent had charmed him, and to whom he looked for much that he knew he +must soon lose. He was glad to make the house seem pleasant to him, and +he was much gratified by his frequent coming. And Richard was peculiarly +a man to like and to lean upon. Not in any way brilliant, and with no +literary tastes, he was well educated enough, and very well informed; a +thorough business man. I think he was ordinarily reserved, but our +intercourse had been so unconventional, that I did not think him so at +all. He was rather good-looking, tall and square-shouldered, with +light-brown hair and fine dark-blue eyes; he had a great many points of +advantage. + +One day, long after he had become almost a member of the household, he +told me he wanted me to know his sister, and that she would come the +next day to see me, if I would like it. I did like it, and waited for +her with impatience. He had told me a great deal about her, and I was +full of curiosity to see her. She was a little older than Richard, and +the only sister; very pretty, and quite a person of consequence in +society. She had made an unfortunate marriage, though of that Richard +said very little to me; but with better luck than attends most +unfortunately-married, women, she was released by her husband's early +death, and was free to be happy again, with some pretty boys, a moderate +fortune, and two brothers to look after her investments, and do her +little errands for her. She considered herself fortunate; and was a +widow of rare discretion, in that she was wedded to her unexpected +independence, and never intended to be wedded to anything or anybody +else. She was naturally cool and calculating, and was in no danger of +being betrayed by her feelings into any other course of life than the +one she had marked out as most expedient. If she was worldly, she was +also useful, intelligent, and popular, and a paragon in her brother's +partial eyes. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +VERY GOOD LUCK. + + Mieux vaut une once de fortune qu'une livre de sagesse. + + +At last (on the day on which Richard had advertised me she was coming,) +the door was opened, and some one was taken to the parlor. Then old +Peter rang a bell which stood on the hall table, and called out to Ann +Coddle (once my nurse, now the seamstress, chambermaid, and general +lightener of his toils), to tell Miss Pauline a lady wanted her. + +This bell was to save his old bones; he never went up-stairs, and he +resented every visitor as an innovation. They were so few, his temper +was not much tried. I was leaning over the stairs when the bell rang, +and did not need a second message. Ann, who continued to feel a care for +my personal appearance, followed me to the landing-place and gave my +sash a last pull. + +When I found myself in the parlor I began to experience a little +embarrassment. Mrs. Hollenbeck was so pretty and her dress was so +dainty, the dingy, stiff, old parlor filled me with dismay. Fortunately, +I did not think much of myself or my own dress. But after a little, she +put me at ease, that is, drew me out and made me feel like talking +to her. + +I admired her very much, but I did not feel any of the affection and +quick cordiality with which Richard had inspired me. I could tell that +she was curious about me, and was watching me attentively, and though +she was so charming that I felt flattered by her interest, I was not +pleased when I remembered my interview with her. + +"You are not at all like your brother," I said, glancing in her face +with frankness. + +"No?" she said smilingly, and looking attentively at me with an +expression which I did not understand. + +And then she drew me on to speak of all his features, which I did with +the utmost candor, showing great knowledge of the subject. + +"And you," she said, "you do not look at all as I supposed. You are not +nearly so young--Richard told me you were quite a child. I was not +prepared for this grace; this young ladyhood--'cette taille de +palmier,'" she added, with a little sweep of the hand. + +Somehow I was not pleased to feel that Richard had talked of me to her, +though I liked it that he had talked of her to me. No doubt she saw it, +for I was lamentably transparent. "Do you lead a quiet life, or have you +many friends?" she said, as if she did not know exactly the kind of +life I led, and as if she had not come for the express purpose of +helping me out of it, at the instance of her kindly brother. Then, of +course, I told her all about my dull days, and she pitied me, and said +lightly it must not be, and I must see more of the world, and she, for +her part, must know me better, etc., etc. And then she went away. + +In a few days, I went with Ann Coddle, in a carriage, to return the +visit. The house was small, but in a beautiful, bright street, and the +one window near the door was full of ferns and ivies. I did not get in, +which was a disappointment to me, particularly as I had no printed card, +and realized keenly all the ignominy of leaving one in writing. This was +in April, and I saw no more of my new friend. Richard was away, on some +business of the firm, and the days were very dull indeed. + +In May he came back, and resumed the dinners, and the evenings in the +parlor, though not quite with the frequency of the past winter,--and I +think there was the least shade of constraint in his manner. It was on +one of these May days that he came and took me to the Park. It was a +great occasion; I had never been so happy before in my life. I was in +great doubt about taking Ann Coddle; never having been out of the house +without a person of that description in attendance before. But Ann got +a suspicion of my doubt and settled it, to go--of course. I think +Richard was rather chagrined when she followed us out to get into the +carriage; she was so dried-up and shrewish-looking, and wore such an +Irish bonnet. But she preserved a discreet silence, and looked +steadfastly out of the carriage window, so we soon forgot that she was +there, though she was directly opposite to us. It was Saturday; the day +was fresh and lovely, and there were crowds of people driving in the +Park. Once we left the carriage with Ann Coddle in it, and went to hear +the music. It was while we were sitting for a few moments under the +vines to listen to it, and watch the gay groups of people around us, +that a carriage passed within a dozen feet, and a lady leaned out and +bowed with smiles. + +"Why, see--it is your sister!" I exclaimed, with the vivacity of a +person of a very limited acquaintance. + +"Ah," he said, and raised his hat carelessly. But I saw he was not +pleased; he pushed the end of his moustache into his mouth, and bit it, +as he always did when out of humor, and very soon proposed we should go +back and find the carriage. It was not long, however, before he +recovered from this annoyance, as he had from the unexpected pleasure of +Ann's company; and, I am sure, was as sorry as I when it was time to go +home to dinner. + +He stayed and dined with us; another gentleman had come home with my +uncle, who talked well and amused us very much. I was excited and in +high spirits; altogether, it was a very happy day. + +It was more than a week after this, that the invitation came which +turned the world upside down at once, and made me most extravagantly +happy. It was from Mrs. Hollenbeck, and I was asked to spend part of +June and all of July and August, with them at R----. + +At R---- was their old family home, a place of very little pretension, +but to which they were much attached. When the father died, five years +before, the two sons had bought the place, or rather had taken it as +their share, turning over the more productive property to their sister. + +They had been very reluctant to close the house, and it was decided that +Sophie should go there every summer, and take her servants from the +city; the expenses of the place being borne by the two young men. They +were very well able to do it, as both were successful in business, and +keeping open the old home, with no diminution of the hospitality of +their father's time, was perhaps the greatest pleasure that they had. +It was an arrangement which suited Sophie admirably. It gave her the +opportunity to entertain pleasantly and informally; it was a capital +summer-home for her two boys; it was in the centre of an agreeable +neighborhood; and above all, it gave her yearly-exhausted purse time to +recuperate and swell again before the winter's drain. Of course she +loved the place, too, but not with the simple affection that her two +brothers did. The young men invited their friends there without +restriction, as was to be supposed; and Sophie was a gay and agreeable +hostess. No one could have made the house pleasanter than she did; and +she left nothing undone to gratify her brothers' tastes and wishes, like +a wise and prudent woman as she was. + +I did not know all this then, or my invitation might not have +overwhelmed me with such gratitude to her. I reproached myself for not +having loved her the first time I saw her. + +Three months! Three happy months in the country! I could hardly believe +it possible such a thing had happened to me. I took the note to my uncle +without much fear of his opposition, for he rarely opposed anything that +I had the courage to ask him, except going in the street alone. (I +believe my mother had made a runaway match, and I think he had faith in +inherited traits; his one resolution regarding me must have been, not to +give me a chance.) He read the note carefully, and then looked me over +with more interest than usual, and told me I might go. Afterward he gave +me a roll of bills, and told me to come to him for more money, if I +needed it. + +I was much excited about my clothes. I could not think that anything was +good enough to go to R----; and I am afraid I spent a good deal of my +uncle's money. Ann Coddle and the cook thought that my dresses were +magnificent, and old Peter groaned over the coming of the packages. I +had indeed a wardrobe fit for a young princess, and in very good taste +besides, because I was born with that. An inheritance, no doubt. And my +uncle never complained at all about the bills. I seemed to have become, +in some way, a person of considerable importance in the house. Ann +Coddle no more fretted at me, but waited on me with alacrity. The cook +ceased to bully me, and on the contrary, flattered me outrageously. I +remembered the long years of bullying, and put no faith in her +assurances. I did not know exactly why this change had happened, but +supposed it might be the result of having become a young lady, and being +invited to pay visits. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +KILIAN. + + You are well made--have common sense, + And do not want for impudence. + _Faust_. + + _Tanto buen die val niente. + + Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire_. + + +The packages finally ceased coming and the stiff old bell from being +pulled; but only half an hour before the carriage drove to the door that +was to take me to the boat. Ann Coddle was flying up and down the +stairs, and calling messages over to Peter in a shrill voice. She was +not designed by nature for a lady's maid, and was a very disagreeable +person to have about one's room. She made me even more nervous than I +should otherwise have been. I had never packed a trunk before, or had +one packed, and might have thought it a very simple piece of business if +Ann had not made such a mountain of it; packing every tray half a dozen +times over, and going down-stairs three times about every article that +was to come up from the laundry. + +Happily she was not to go with me any farther than the boat. Richard +was away again on business--had been gone, indeed, since the day after +we had driven in the Park: so I was to be put on board the boat, and +left in charge of Kilian, his younger brother, who had called at my +uncle's office, and made the arrangement with him. I had never seen +Kilian, and the meeting filled me with apprehension; my uncle, however, +sent up one of his clerks in the carriage to take me to the boat, and +put me in charge of this young gentleman. This considerate action on the +part of my uncle seemed to fill up the measure of my surprises. + +When we reached the boat, the clerk, a respectful youth, conducted me to +the upper deck, and then left me with Ann, while he went down about +the baggage. + +With all our precautions, we were rather late, for the last bell was +ringing; Ann was in a fever of impatience, and I was quite uncertain +what to do, the clerk not having returned, and Mr. Kilian Vandermarck +not having yet appeared. Ann was so disagreeable, and so disturbing to +all thinking, that I had more than once to tell her to be quiet. Matters +seemed to have reached a crisis. The man at the gangway was shouting +"all aboard;" the whistle was blowing; the bell was ringing; Ann was +whimpering; when a belated-looking young man with a book and paper under +his arm came up the stairs hurriedly and looked around with anxiety. As +soon as his eye fell on us, he looked relieved, and walked directly up +to me, and called me by name, interrogatively. + +"O yes," I said eagerly, "but do get this woman off the boat or we'll +have to take her with us." "Oh, no danger," he said, "plenty of time," +and he took her toward the stairs, at the head of which she was met by +the clerk, who touched his hat to me, handed the checks to Mr. +Vandermarck, then hurried off with Ann. Mr. Vandermarck returned to me, +but I was so engrossed looking over the side of the boat and watching +for Ann and the clerk, that I took no notice of him. + +At last I saw Ann scramble on the wharf, just before the plank was drawn +in; with a sigh of relief I turned away. + +"I want to apologize for being so late," he said. + +"Why, it is not any matter," I answered, "only I had not the least idea +what to do." + +"You are not used to travelling alone, then, I suppose?" + +"Oh no," nor to travelling any way, for the matter of that, I added to +myself; but not aloud, for I had a great fear that it should be known +how very limited my experience was. + +"You must let me take your shawl and bag, and we will go and get a +comfortable seat," he said in a few moments. We went forward and found +comfortable chairs under an awning, and where there was a fine breeze. +It was a warm afternoon, and the change from the heated and glaring +wharf was delightful. Mr. Vandermarck threw himself back in his chair +with an expression of relief, and took off his straw hat. + +"If you had been in Wall-street since ten o'clock this morning you would +be prepared to enjoy this sail," he said. + +"Is Wall-street so very much more disagreeable than other places? I +think my uncle regrets every moment that he spends away from it." + +"Ah, yes. Mr. Greer may; he has a good deal to make him like it; if I +made as much money as he does every day there, I think it's possible I +might like it too. But it is a different matter with a poor devil like +me: if I get off without being cheated out of all I've got, it is as +much as I can ask." + +"Well, perhaps when he was your age, Uncle Leonard did not ask more than +that." + +"Not he; he began, long before he was as old as I am, to do what I can +never learn to do, Miss d'Esirée--make money with one hand and save it +with the other. Now, I'm ashamed to say, a great deal of money comes +into my pockets, but it never stays there long enough to give me the +feeling that I'm a rich man. One gets into a way of living that's +destruction to all chances of a fortune." + +"But what's the good of a fortune if you don't enjoy it?" I said, +thinking of the dreary house in Varick-street. + +"No good," he said. "It isn't in my nature to be satisfied with the +knowledge that I've got enough to make me happy locked up somewhere in a +safe: I must get it out, and strew it around in sight in the shape of +horses, pictures, nice rooms, and good things to eat, before I can make +up my mind that the money is good for anything. Now as to Richard, he is +just the other way: old head on young shoulders, old pockets in young +breeches (only there ar'nt any holes in them). He's a model of prudence, +is my brother Richard. _Qui garde son diner, il a mieux à souper_. He'll +be a rich man one of these fine days. I look to him to keep me out of +jail. You know Richard very well, I believe?" he said, turning a sudden +look on me, which would have been very disconcerting to an older person, +or one more acquainted with the world. + +"O, very well indeed," I said with great simplicity. "You know he is +such a favorite with my uncle, and he is a great deal at the house." + +"Well he may be a favorite, for he is built exactly on his model; at +seventy, if I am not hung for debt before I reach it, I shall look to +see him just a second Mr. Leonard Greer." + +I made a gesture of dissent. "I don't think he is in the least like +Uncle Leonard, and I don't think he cares at all for money." + +"O, Miss Pauline, don't you believe him if he says he doesn't. I'm his +younger brother, whom he has lectured and been hard on for these +twenty-seven years, and I know more about it than anybody else." + +"Why, is Mr. Richard Vandermarck twenty-seven years old?" I said with +much surprise. + +"Twenty-nine his next birthday, and I am twenty-seven. Why, did he pass +himself off for younger? That's an excellent thing against him." + +"No; he did not pass himself off for anything in the matter of age. It +was only my idea about him. I thought he was not more than twenty-five, +perhaps even younger than that. But then I had nobody but Uncle Leonard +to compare him with, and it isn't strange that I didn't get +quite right." + +"It _is_ something of a step from Mr. Greer to Richard, I must say. Mr. +Greer seems so much the oldest man in the world, and Richard--well, +Richard isn't that, but he is a good deal older than he ought to be. +But do you tell me, Miss Pauline, you havn't any younger fellows than +Richard on your cards? Do they keep you as quiet as all that in +Varick-street?" + +I knew by intuition this was impertinence, and no doubt I looked +annoyed, and Mr. Vandermarck hastened to obliterate the impression by a +very rapid movement upon the scenery, the beauties of the river, and +many things as novel. + +The three hours of our sail passed away pleasantly. Mr. Vandermarck did +not move from his seat; did not even read his paper, though I gave him +an opportunity by turning over the leaves of my "Littel" on the +occurrence of every pause. + +I felt that I knew him quite well before the journey was over, and I +liked him exceedingly, almost as well as Richard. He was rather +handsomer than Richard, not so tall, but more vivacious and more +amusing, much more so. I began to think Richard rather dull when I +contrasted him with his brother. + +When we reached the wharf, Mr. Vandermarck, after disposing of the +baggage, gave his arm to me, and took me to an open wagon which was +waiting for us. He put me in the seat beside him, and took the reins +with a look of pleasure. + +"These are Tom and Jerry, Miss Pauline," he said, "about the +pleasantest members of the family; at least they contribute more to my +pleasure than any other members of it. I squandered about half my income +on them a year or two ago, and have not repented yet; though, indeed, +repentance isn't in my way. I shall hope for the happiness of giving you +many drives with them, if I am permitted." + +"Nothing could make me happier, I am sure." + +"Richard hasn't any horses, though he can afford it much better than I +can. He does his driving, when he is here, with the carriage-horses that +we keep for Sophie--a dull old pair of brutes. He disapproves very much +of Tom and Jerry; but you see it would never do to have two such wise +heads in one family." + +"It would destroy the balance of power in the neighborhood." + +"Decidedly; as it is, we are a first-class power, owing to Sophie's +cleverness and Richard's prudence; my prodigality is just needed to keep +us from overrunning the county and proclaiming an empire at the next +town meeting. How do you like Sophie, Miss d'Estrée? I know you haven't +seen much of her--but what you have? Isn't she clever, and isn't she a +pretty woman to be nearly thirty-five?" + +I was feeling very grateful for my invitation, and so I said a great +deal of my admiration for his sister. + +"Everybody likes her," he said, complacently. "I don't know a more +popular person anywhere. She is the life of the neighborhood; people +come to her for everything, if they want to get a new door-mat for the +school-house, or if they want a new man nominated for the legislature. I +think she's awfully bored, sometimes, but she keeps it to herself. But +though the summer is her rest, she always does enough to tire out +anybody else. Now, for instance, she is going to have three young ladies +with her for the next two months (besides yourself, Miss d'Estrée), whom +she will have to be amusing all the time, and some friends of mine who +will turn the house inside out. But Sophie never grumbles." + +"Tell me about them all," I said, consuming with a fever of curiosity. + +"O, I forgot you did not know them. Shall I begin with the young +ladies?--(Sam, there's a stone in Jerry's off fore-foot; get down and +look about it--Steady!--there, I knew it)--Excuse me, Miss d'Estrée. +Well,--the young ladies. There's one of our cousins, a grand, handsome, +sombre, estimable girl, whom nobody ever flirts with, but whom somebody +will marry. That's Henrietta Palmer. Then there is Charlotte +Benson--not pretty, but stylish and so clever. She carries too many guns +for most men; she is a capital girl in her way. Then there is Mary +Leighton; she is small, blonde, lovely. I do not believe in her +particularly, but we are great friends, and flirt a little, I am told. I +quite wonder how you will like each other. I hope you will tell me your +impressions. No doubt she will be rather your companion, for Henrietta +and Charlotte Benson are desperately intimate, and have a room together. +They are quite romantic and very superior. Pretty Miss Leighton isn't in +their line exactly, and is rather left to her own reflections, I should +think. But she makes up for it when the gentlemen appear; she isn't left +with any time upon her hands, you may be sure. I don't know what it is +about her; she never said a bright thing in her life, and a great, great +many silly ones; but everybody wants to talk to her, and her silly words +are precious to the man to whom she says them. Did you ever meet anybody +like her?" + +"I? oh no. I never met anybody," I said, half-bitterly, beginning to be +afraid of the people whom I so soon should meet; and then I began to +talk about the road, and to inquire how far we had yet to drive, and to +ask to have a shawl about my shoulders. It was not yet seven o'clock, +but the country air was fresh and cool, and the rapid driving made +it cooler. + +"We are almost there; and I hope, Miss d'Estrée, that you won't feel as +if you were going among strangers. You will not feel so long, at any +rate. It is too bad Richard isn't here; you know him so much better than +the rest of us. But before he comes back, I am sure you will feel as +much at home as he. But here's the gate." + +There was a drive of perhaps an eighth of a mile from the gate to the +house: the trees and hedge were thick, so that one saw little of the +house from the road. The grounds were well kept; there was a nice lawn, +in front of the house, and some very fine old trees. The house was low +and irregular, but quite picturesque. It fronted the road; the rear +looked toward the river, about quarter of a mile distant, and of which +the view was lovely. + +There was a piazza in front, on which four ladies stood; one of them +came forward, and came down the steps, and met me as I got out of the +carriage. That, of course, was Mrs. Hollenbeck, She welcomed me very +cordially, and led me up the steps of the piazza, where the young ladies +stood. Terrible young ladies! I shook with fear of them. I felt as if I +did not know anything, as if I did not look well, as if my clothes were +hideous. I should not have been afraid of young or old men, nor of old +women; but they were just my age, just my class, just my equals, or +ought to have been, if I had had any other fate than Uncle Leonard and +Varick-street. How they would criticize me! How soon they would find out +I had never been anywhere before! I wished for Richard then with all my +heart. Kilian had already deserted me, and was talking to Miss Leighton, +who had come half-way down the steps to meet him, and who only gave me a +glance and a very pretty smile and nod, when Mrs. Hollenbeck presented +me to them. Miss Benson and Miss Palmer each gave me a hand, and looked +me over horribly; and the tones of their voices, when they spoke to me, +were so constrained and cold, and so different from the tones in which +they addressed each other. I hated them. + +After a few moments of wretchedness, Sophie proposed to take me to my +room. We went up the stairs, which were steep and old-fashioned, with a +landing-place almost like a little room. My room was in a wing of the +house, over the dining-room, and the windows looked out on the river. It +was not large, but was very pretty. The windows were curtained, and the +bed was dainty, and the little mantel was draped, and the ornaments and +pictures were quaint and delightful to my taste. + +Sophie laid the shawls she had been carrying up for me upon the bed, +and said she hoped I would find everything I needed, and would try to +feel entirely at home, and not hesitate to ask for anything that would +make me comfortable. + +Nothing could be kinder, but my affection and gratitude were fast dying +out, and I was quite sure of one thing, namely, that I never should love +Sophie if she spent her life in inviting me to pay her visits. She told +me that tea would be ready in half an hour, and then left me. I sat down +on the bed when she was gone, and wished myself back in Varick-street; +and then cried, to think that I should be homesick for such a dreary +home. But the appetites and affections common to humanity had not been +left out of my heart, though I had been beggared all my life in regard +to most of them. I could have loved a mother so--a sister--I could have +had such happy feelings for a place that I could have felt was home. +What matter, if I could not even remember the smile on my mother's lips; +what matter, if no brother or sister had ever been born to me; if no +house had ever been my rightful home? I was hungry for them all the +same. And these first glimpses of the happy lives of others seemed to +disaffect me more than ever with my own. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MY COMPANIONS. + + "Vous êtes belle: ainsi donc la moitié + Du genre humain sera votre ennemie." + + _Voltaire_. + + "Oh, I think the cause + Of much was, they forgot no crowd + Makes up for parents in their shroud." + + _R. Browning_. + + +The servant came to call me down to tea while I was still sitting with +my face in my hands upon the bed. I started up, lit the candles on the +dressing-table, arranged my hair, washed the tears off my face, and +hurried down the stairs. They were waiting for me in the parlor, and no +doubt were quite impatient, as they had already waited for the arrival +of the evening train, and it was nearly eight o'clock. The evening train +had brought Mr. Eugene Whitney, of whom I can only say, that he was a +very insignificant young man indeed. We all moved into the dining-room; +the others took the seats they were accustomed to. Mr. Whitney and I, +being the only new-comers, were advised which seats belonged to us by a +trim young maid-servant, and I, for one, was very glad to get into mine. +Mr. Whitney was my neighbor on one hand, the youngest of the Hollenbeck +boys on the other. These were our seats: + + Kilian, + +Miss Leighton, Miss Henrietta Palmer, + +Miss Benson, Mr. Eugene Whitney, + +Tutor, Myself, + +Boy, Boy, + + Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +The seat opposite me was not filled when we sat down. + +"Where is Mr. Langenau, Charley?" said his mother. + +"I'm sure I don't know, mamma," said Charley, applying himself to +marmalade. + +"Charley doesn't see much of his tutor out of hours, I think," said Miss +Benson. + +"A good deal too much of him in 'em," murmured Charley, between a +spoonful of marmalade and a drink of milk. + +"Benny's the boy that loves his book," said Kilian; "he's the joy of his +tutor's heart, I know," at which there was a general laugh, and Benny, +the younger, looked up with a merry smile. + +The Hollenbeck boys were not fond of study. They were healthy and +pretty; quite the reverse of intellectual; very fair and rosy, without +much resemblance to their mother or her brothers. It was evident the +acquisition of knowledge was far from being the principal pursuit of +their lives, and the tutor was looked upon as the natural enemy of +Charley, at the least. + +"I don't see what you ever got him for, mamma," said Charley. "I'd study +just as much without him." + +"And that wouldn't be pledging yourself to very much, would it, Charley +dear?" + +"Wish he was back in Germany with his ugly books," cried Charley. + +But--hush!--there was a sudden lull, as the tutor entered and took his +place by Charley. He was a well-made man, evidently about thirty. He was +so decidedly a gentleman, in manners and appearance, that even these +spoiled boys treated him respectfully, and the young ladies and +gentlemen at the table were more stiff than offensive in their manner. +But he was so evidently not one of them! + +It is very disagreeable to be among people who know each other very +well, even if they try to know you very well and admit you to their +friendship. But I had no assurance that any one was trying to do this +for _me_, and I am afraid I showed very little inclination to be +admitted to their friendship. I could not talk, and I did not want to be +talked to. I was even afraid of the little boys, and thought all the +time that Charley was watching me and making signs about me to his +brother, when in reality he was only telegraphing about the marmalade. + +In the meantime, without any attention to my feelings, the business of +the tea-table proceeded. Mrs. Hollenbeck poured out tea, and kept the +little boys under a moderate control. Kilian cut up some birds before +him, and tried to persuade the young ladies to eat some, but nobody had +appetite enough but Mr. Whitney and himself. Charlotte Benson, who was +clever and efficient and exceedingly at home, cut up a cake that was +before her, and gave the boys some strawberries, and offered some to me. +Miss Palmer simply looked very handsome, and eat a biscuit or two, and +tried to talk to Mr. Whitney, who seemed to have a good appetite and +very little conversation. Miss Leighton gave herself up to attentions to +Kilian; she was saying silly little things to him in a little low tone +all the time, and offering him different articles before her, and +advising him what he ought to eat; all of which seemed most interesting +and important in dumb-show till you heard what it was all about, and +then you felt ashamed of them. At times, I think, Kilian felt somewhat +ashamed too, and tried to talk a little to the others; but most of the +time he seemed to like it very well, and did not ask anything better +than the excellent woodcock on his plate, and the pretty young woman +by his side. + +"By the way," said Sophie, when the meal was nearly over, "I had a +letter from Richard to-day." + +"Ah!" said Kilian, with a momentary release from his admirer. "And when +is he coming home?" + +I looked up with quick interest, and met Mrs. Hollenbeck's eyes, which +seemed to be always on me. Then I turned mine down the table +uncomfortably, and found Charlotte Benson looking at me too. I did not +know what I had done to be looked at, but wished they would look at +themselves and let me take my tea (or leave it alone) in peace. + +"Not for two weeks yet," said his sister; "not for two whole weeks." + +"How sorry I am," said Charlotte Benson. + +"I think we are all sorry," said Henrietta the tranquil. + +"Miss d'Estrée confided to me that she'd be glad to see him," said +Kilian, cutting up another woodcock and looking at his plate. + +"Indeed I shall," I said, with, a little sigh, not thinking so much +about them as feeling most earnestly what a difference his coming would +make, and how sure I should be of having at least one friend when he +got here. + +"He seems to be having a delightful time," said his sister. + +"I am glad to hear that," I said, interested. "Generally he finds it +such a bore. He doesn't seem to like to travel." I was rather startled +at the sound of my own voice and the attention of my audience; but I had +been betrayed into speaking, by my interest in the subject, and my +surprise at hearing he was having such a pleasant time. + +"Ah!" she said, "don't you think he does? At any rate, he seems to be +enjoying this journey, and to be in no hurry to come back. I looked for +him last week." + +Warned by my last experience, I said nothing in answer; and after a +moment Kilian said: + +"Well, if Richard's having a good time, you may be sure he's made some +favorable negotiation, and comes home with good news for the firm. +That's his idea of a good time, you know." + +"Ah!" said Sophie, gently, "that's his brother's idea of his idea. It +isn't mine." + +Charlotte Benson seemed a little nettled at this, and exclaimed, + +"Mrs. Hollenbeck! you are making us all unhappy. You are leading us to +suspect that the stern man of business is unbending. What's the +influence at work? What makes this journey different from other +journeys? Where does he tarry, oh, where?" + +"Nonsense!" said Sophie, with a little laugh. "You cannot say I have +implied anything of the sort. Cannot Richard enjoy a journey without +your censure or suspicion? You must be careful; he does not +fancy teasing." + +"O, I shall not accuse him, you may be sure; that is, if he ever comes. +Do you believe he really ever will?" + +"Not if he thinks you want him," said Kilian, amiably. "He has a great +aversion to being made much of." + +"Yes, a family trait," interrupted Charlotte, at which everybody +laughed, no one more cordially than Miss Leighton. + +"Leave off laughing at my Uncle Richard," said Benny, stoutly, with his +cheeks quite flushed. + +"We have, dear, and are laughing at your Uncle Kilian. You don't object +to that, I'm sure," and Charlotte Benson leaned forward and threw him a +little kiss past the tutor, who wore a silent, abstracted look, in odd +contrast with the animated expressions of the faces all around him. + +Benny did not like the joke at all, and got down from his chair and +walked away without permission. We all followed him, going into the +hall, and from thence to the piazza, as the night was fine. The tutor +walked silently through the group in the hall to a seat where lay his +book and hat, then passed through the doorway and disappeared +from sight. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE TUTOR. + + And now above them pours a wondrous voice, + (Such as Greek reapers heard in Sicily), + With wounding rapture in it, like love's arrows. + + _George Eliot_. + + +The next day, the first of my visit, was a very sultry one, and the rest +of the party thought it was, no doubt, a very dull one. + +Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney went away in the early train, not to +return, alas, till the evening of the following day. Miss Leighton was +languid, and yawned incessantly, though she tried to appear interested +in things, and was very attentive to me. Charlotte Benson and Henrietta +laid strong-minded plans for the day, and carried them out faithfully. +First, they played a game of croquet, under umbrellas, for the sun was +blazing on the ground: that was for exercise; then, for mental +discipline, they read history for an hour in the library; and then, for +relaxation, under veils and sunhats, read Ruskin for two hours by +the river. + +I cannot think Henrietta understood Ruskin, but I have no doubt she +thought she did, and tried to share in her friend's enthusiasm. Sophie +had a little headache, and spent much of the morning in her room. The +boys were away with their tutor in the farm-house where they had their +school-room, and the house seemed deserted and delightful. I wandered +about at ease, chose my book, and sat for hours in the boat-house by the +river, not reading Ruskin, nor even my poor little novel, but gazing and +dreaming and wondering. It can be imagined what the country seemed to +me, in beautiful summer weather, after the dreary years I had spent in a +city-street. + +It is quite impossible to describe all that seemed starting into life +within me, all at once--- so many new forces, so much new life. + +My home-sickness had passed away, and I was inclined to be very happy, +particularly in the liberty that seemed to promise. Dinner was very +quiet, and every one seemed dull, even Charlotte Benson, who ordinarily +had life enough for all. The boys were there, but their tutor had gone +away on a long walk and would not be back till evening. "_A la bonne +heure_," cried Madame, with a little yawn; "freedom of the halls, and +deshabille, for one afternoon." + +So we spent the afternoon with our doors open, and with books, or +without books, on the bed. + +Nobody came into my room, except Mrs. Hollenbeck for a few moments, +looking very pretty in a white peignoir, and rather sleepy at the same +time; hoping I was comfortable and had found something to amuse me in +the library. + +It seemed to be thought a great bore to dress, to judge from the +exclamations of ennui which I heard in the hall, as six o'clock +approached, and the young ladies wandered into each other's room and +bewailed the necessity. I think Miss Leighton would have been very glad +to have stayed on the bed, and tried to sleep away the hours that +presented no amusement; but Charlotte Benson laughed at her so cruelly, +that she began to dress at once, and said, she had not intended what she +said, of course. + +I was the first to be ready, and went down to the piazza. The heat of +the day was over and there was a soft, pleasant breeze. We were to have +tea at seven o'clock, and while I sat there, the bell rang. The tutor +came in from under the trees where he had been reading, looking rather +pale after his long walk. + +He bowed slightly as he passed me, and waited at the other end of the +piazza, reading as he stood, till the others came down to the +dining-room. As we were seating ourselves he came in and took his place, +with a bow to me and the others. Mrs. Hollenbeck asked him a little +about his expedition, and paid him a little more attention than usual, +being the only man. + +He had a most fortunate way of saying just the right thing and then +being silent; never speaking unless addressed, and then conveying +exactly the impression he desired. I think he must have appeared in a +more interesting light that usual at this meal, for as we went out from +the dining room Mary Leighton put her arm through mine and whispered +"Poor fellow! How lonely he must be! Let's ask him to go and walk with +us this evening." + +Before I could remonstrate or detach myself from her, she had twisted +herself about, in a peculiarly supple and child-like manner that she +had, and had made the suggestion to him. + +He was immeasurably surprised, no doubt, but he gave no sign of it. +After a silence of two or three instants, during which, I think, he was +occupied in trying to find a way to decline, he assented very sedately. + +Charlotte Benson and her friend, who were behind us, were enraged at +this proceeding. During the week they had all been in the house +together, they had never gone beyond speaking terms with the tutor, and +this they had agreed was the best way to keep things, and it seemed to +be his wish no less than theirs. Here was this saucy girl, in want of +amusement, upsetting all their plans. They shortly declined to go to +walk with us: and so Mary Leighton, Mr. Langenau, and I started alone +toward the river. + +It must be confessed, Miss Leighton was not rewarded for her effort, for +a stiffer and more uncomfortable companion could not be imagined. He +entirely declined to respond to her coquetry, and she very soon found +she must abandon this role; but she was nothing if not coquettish, and +the conversation flagged uncomfortably. Before we reached home she was +quite impatient, and ran up the steps, when we got there, as if it were +a great relief. The tutor raised his hat when he left us at the door, +turned back, and disappeared for the rest of the evening. + +The next morning, coming down-stairs half an hour before breakfast, I +went into the library (a little room at the right of the front door), +for a book I had left there. I threw myself into an easy-chair, and +opened it, when I caught sight of the tutor, reading at the window. I +half started to my feet, and then sank back again in confusion; for what +was there to go away for? + +He rose and bowed, and resumed his seat and his book. + +The room was quite small, and we were very near each other. How I could +possibly have missed seeing him as I entered, now surprised me. I longed +to go away, but did not dare do anything that would seem rude. He +appeared very much engrossed with his book, but I, for my part, could +not read a word, and was only thinking how I could get away. Possibly he +guessed at my embarrassment, for after about ten minutes he arose, and +coming up to the table by which I sat, he took up a card, and placed it +in his book for a mark, and shut it up, then made some remark to me +about the day. + +The color was coming and going in my face. + +He must have felt sorry or curious, for he did not go directly away, and +continued to talk of things that did not require me to answer him. + +I do not know what it was about his voice that was so different from the +ordinary voices of people. There was a quality in it that I had never +heard in any other. But perhaps it was in the ear that listened, as well +as the voice that spoke. And apart from the tones, the words I never +could forget. The most trivial things that he ever said to me, I can +remember to this day. + +I believe that this was not of my imagination, but that others felt it +in some degree as I did. It was this that made him such an invaluable +teacher; he impressed upon those flesh-and-blood boys, in that one +summer, more than they would have learned in whole years from ordinary +persons. It was not very strange, then, that I was smitten with the +strangest interest in all he said and did, and that his words made the +deepest impression on me. + +No doubt it is pleasant to be listened to by one whose face tells you +you are understood; and the tutor was not in a hurry to go away. He had +got up from the window, I know, with the intention of going out of the +room, but he continued standing, looking down at me and talking, for +half an hour at least. + +The soft morning wind came in at the open door and window, with a scent +of rose and honeysuckle: the pretty little room was full of the early +sunshine in which there is no glare: I can see it all now, and I can +hear, as ever, his low voice. + +He talked of the book I held in my hand, of the views on the river, of +the pleasantness of country life. I fancy I did not say much, though I +never am able to remember what I said when talking to him. Whatever I +said was a mere involuntary accord with him. I never recollect to have +felt that I did not agree with and admire every word he uttered. + +How different his manner from last night when he had talked with Mary +Leighton; all the stiffness, the half-concealed repelling tone was +gone. I had not heard him speak to any one, except perhaps once to +Benny, as he spoke now. I was quite sure that he liked me, and that he +did not class me with the others in the house. But when the +breakfast-bell rang, he gave a slight start, and his voice changed; and +such a frown came over his face! He looked at his watch, said something +about the hour, and quickly left the room. I bent my head over my book +and sat still, till I heard them all come down and go into the +breakfast-room. I trusted they would not know he had been talking to me, +and there was little danger, unless they guessed it from my cheeks being +so aflame. + +At breakfast he was more silent than ever, and his brow had not quite +got over that sudden frown. At dinner he was away again, as the +day before. + +The day passed much as yesterday had done. About four o'clock there came +a telegram from Kilian to his sister. He had been delayed, and Mr. +Whitney would wait for him, and they would come the next evening by the +boat. I think Mary Leighton could have cried if she had not been +ashamed. Her pretty blue organdie was on the bed ready to put on. It +went back into the wardrobe very quickly, and she came down to tea in a +gray barége that was a little shabby. + +A rain had come on about six o'clock. At tea the candles were lit, and +the windows closed. Every one looked moped and dull; the evening +promised to be insufferable. Mrs. Hollenbeck saw the necessity of +rousing herself and providing us some amusement. When Mr. Langenau +entered, she met his bow with one of her best smiles: how the change +must have struck him; for she had been very mechanical and polite to him +before. Now she spoke to him with the charming manner that brought every +one to her feet. + +And what was the cause of this sudden kindness? It is very easy for me +to see now, though then I had not a suspicion. Alas! I am afraid that +the cheeks aflame at breakfast-time were the immediate cause of the +change. Mrs. Hollenbeck would not have made so marked a movement for an +evening's entertainment: it seemed to suit her very well that I should +talk to the tutor in the library before breakfast, and she meant to give +me opportunities for talking to him in the parlor too. + +"A dreary evening, is it not?" she began. "What shall we all do? +Charlotte, can't you think of something?" + +Charlotte, who had her own plans for a quiet evening by the lamp with a +new book, of course could not think of anything. + +"Henrietta, at least you shall give us some music, and Mr. Langenau, I +am sure you will be good enough to help us; I will send over to the +school-room for that flute and those piles of music that I've seen upon +a shelf, and you will be charitable enough to play for us." + +"I must beg you will not take that trouble." + +"Oh, Mr. Langenau, that is selfish now." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck did not press the subject then, but made herself +thoroughly delightful during tea, and as we rose from the table renewed +the request in a low tone to Mr. Langenau: and the result was, a little +after eight o'clock he came into the parlor where we sat. A place was +made for him at the table around which we were sitting, and Mrs. +Hollenbeck began the process of putting him at his ease. There was no +need. The tutor was quite as much at ease as any one, and, in a little +while, imperceptibly became the person to whom we were all listening. + +Charlotte Benson at last gave up her book, and took her work-box +instead. We were no longer moping and dull around the table. And bye and +bye Henrietta, much alarmed, was sent to the piano, and her poor little +music certainly sounded very meagre when Mr. Langenau touched the keys. + +I think he consented to play not to appear rude, but with the firm +intention of not being the instrument of our entertainment, and not +being made use of out of his own accepted calling. But happily for us, +he soon forgot all about us, and played on, absorbed in himself and in +his music. We listened breathlessly, the others quite as much engrossed +as I, because they all knew much more of music than I did. Suddenly, +after playing for a long while, he started from the piano, and came back +to the table. He was evidently agitated. Before the others could say a +word of thanks or wonder, I cried, in a fear of the cessation of what +gave me such intense pleasure, + +"Oh, sing something; can't you sing?" + +"Yes, I can sing," he said, looking down at me with those dangerous +eyes. "Will it give you pleasure if I sing for you?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned back to the piano. + +He had said "if I sing for you," and I knew that for me he was singing. +I do not know what it was for others, but for me, it was the only true +music that I had ever heard, the only music that I could have begged +might never cease, but flood over all the present and the future, +satisfying every sense. Other voices had roused and thrilled, this +filled me. I asked no more, and could have died with that sound in +my ears. + +"Why, Pauline! child! what is it?" cried Mrs. Hollenbeck, as the music +ceased and Mr. Langenau. again came back to the circle round the table. +Every one looked: I was choking with sobs. + +"Oh, don't, I don't want you to speak to me," I cried, putting away her +hand and darting from the room. I was not ashamed of myself, even when I +was alone in my room. The powerful magic lasted still, through the +silence and darkness, till I was aroused by the voices of the others +coming up to bed. + +Mrs. Hollenbeck knocked at my door with her bedroom candle in her hand, +and, as she stood talking to me, the others strayed in to join her and +to satisfy their curiosity. + +"You are very sensitive to music, are you not?" said Charlotte Benson, +contemplatively. She had tried me on Mompssen, and the "Seven Lamps," +and found me wanting, and now perhaps hoped to find some other point +less faulty. + +"I do not know," I said, honestly. "I seem to have been very sensitive +to-night." + +"But you are not always?" asked Henrietta Palmer. "You do not always cry +when people sing?" + +"Why, no," I said with great contempt. "But I never heard any one sing +like that before." + +"He does sing well," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, thoughtfully. + +"Immense expression and a fine voice," added Charlotte Benson. + +"He has been educated for the stage, you may be sure," said Mary +Leighton, with a little spite. "As Miss d'Estrée says, I never heard +anyone sing like that, out of the chorus of an opera." + +"Well, I think," returned Charlotte Benson, "if there were many voices +like that in ordinary choruses, one would be glad to dispense with the +solos and duets." + +"Oh, you would not find his voice so wonderful, if you heard it out of a +parlor. It is very well, but it would not fill a concert hall, much less +an opera house. No; you may be sure he has been educated for some of +those German choruses; you know they are very fine musicians." + +"Well, I don't know that it is anything to us what he was educated for," +said Charlotte Benson, sharply. "He has given us a very delightful +evening, and I, for one, am much obliged to him." + +"_Et moi aussi"_ murmured Henrietta, wreathing her large beautiful arms +about her friend, and the two sauntered away. + +Mary Leighton, in general ill-humor, and still remembering the walk of +the last evening, desired to fire a parting-shot, and exclaimed, as she +went out, "Well, I think it is something to us; I like to have +gentlemen about me." + +"You need not be uneasy," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, a little stiffly. "I +think Mr. Langenau is a gentleman." + +But at this moment his step was heard in the hall below, and there was +an end put to the conversation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MATINAL. + + Last night, when some one spoke his name, + From my swift blood that went and came + A thousand little shafts of flame + Were shivered in my narrow frame. + + _Tennyson_. + + +The next morning was brilliant and cool, the earth and heavens shining +after the rain of the past night. I was dressed long, long before +breakfast: it would be so tiresome to wait in my room till the bell +rang; yet if I went down-stairs, would it not look as if I wanted to see +Mr. Langenau again? I need not go to the library, of course, but I could +scarcely avoid being seen from the library if I went out. But why +suppose that he would be down again so early? It was very improbable, +and so, affectionately deceived, I put on a hat and walking-jacket and +stole down the stairs. I saw by the clock in the lower hall that it was +half an hour earlier than I had come down the morning before; at which I +was secretly chagrined, for now there was no danger, _alias_ hope, of +seeing Mr. Langenau. + +But probably he had forgotten all about the foolish half-hour that had +given me so much to think about. I glanced into the library, which was +empty, and hurried out of the hall-door, secretly disappointed. + +I took the path that led over the hill to the river. It passed through +the garden, under the long arbors of grapevines, over the hill, and +through a grove of maples, ending at the river where the boat-house +stood. The brightness of the morning was not lost on me, and before I +reached the maple-grove I was buoyant and happy. At the entrance of the +grove (which was traversed by several paths, the principal coming up +directly from the river) I came suddenly upon the tutor, walking +rapidly, with a pair of oars over his shoulder. He started, and for a +moment we both stood still and did not speak. I could only think with +confusion of my emotion when he sang. + +"You are always early," he said, with his slight, very slight, foreign +accent, "earlier than yesterday by half an hour," he added, looking at +his watch. My heart gave a great bound of pleasure. Then he had not +forgotten! How he must have seen all this. + +He stood and talked with me for some moments, and then desperately I +made a movement to go on. I do not believe, at least I am not sure, that +at first he had any intention of going with me. But it was not in human +nature to withstand the flattery of such emotion as his presence seemed +always to inspire in me; and then, I have no doubt, he had a certain +pleasure in talking to me outside of that; and then the morning was so +lovely and he had so much of books. + +He proposed to show me a walk I had not taken. There was a little +hesitation in his manner, but he was reassured by my look of pleasure, +and throwing down the oars under a tree, he turned and walked beside me. +No doubt he said to himself, "America! This paradise of girlhood;--there +can be no objection." It was heavenly sweet, that walk--the birds, the +sky, the dewiness and freshness of all nature and all life. It seemed +the unstained beginning of all things to me. + +The woods were wet; we could not go through them, and so we went a +longer way, along the river and back by the road. + +This time he did not do all the talking, but made me talk, and listened +carefully to all I said; and I was so happy, talking was not any effort. + +At last he made some allusion to the music of last night; that he was so +glad to see that I loved music as I did. "But I don't particularly," I +said in confusion, with a great fear of being dishonest, "at least I +never thought I did before, and I am so ignorant. I don't want you to +think I know anything about it, for you would be disappointed." He was +silent, and, I felt sure, because he was already disappointed; in fear +of which I went on to say-- + +"I never heard any one sing like that before; I am very sorry that it +gave any one an impression that I had a knowledge of music, when I +hadn't. I don't care about it generally, except in church, and I can't +understand what made me feel so yesterday." + +"Perhaps it is because you were in the mood for it," he said. "It is +often so, one time music gives us pleasure, another time it does not." + +"That may be so; but your voice, in speaking, even, seems to me +different from any other. It is almost as good as music when you speak; +only the music fills me with such feelings." + +"You must let me sing for you again," he said, rather low, as we walked +slowly on. + +"Ah; if you only will," I answered, with a deep sigh of satisfaction. + +We walked on in silence till we reached the gate: he opened it for me +and then said, "Now I must leave you, and go back for the oars." + +I was secretly glad of this; since the walk had reached its natural +limit and its end must be accepted, it was a relief to approach the +house alone and not be the subject of any observation. + +Breakfast had began: no one seemed to feel much interest in my entrance, +though flaming with red roses and red cheeks. + +They were of the sex that do not notice such things naturally, with much +interest or admiration. They had hardly "shaken off drowsy-hed," and had +no pleasure in anything but their breakfast, and not much in that. + +"How do you manage to get yourself up and dressed at such inhuman +hours?" said Mary Leighton, querulously. + +"You are a reproach to the household, and we will not suffer it," said +Charlotte Benson. + +"I never could understand this thing of getting up before you are +obliged to," added Henrietta plaintively. + +But Sophie seemed well satisfied, particularly when Mr. Langenau came in +and I looked down into my cup of tea, instead of saying good-morning to +him. He did not say very much, though there was a good deal of babble +among the others, principally about his music. + +It was becoming the fashion to be very attentive to him. He was made to +promise to play in the evening; to bring down his books of music for the +benefit of Miss Henrietta, who wanted to practice, Heaven knows what of +his. His advice was asked about styles of playing and modes of +instruction; he was deferred to as an authority. But very little he +seemed to care about it all, I thought. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THREE WEEKS TOO LATE. + + _Qui va à la chasse perd sa place_. + + _De la main à la bouche se perd souvent la soupe_. + + Distance all value enhances! + When a man's busy, why, leisure + Strikes him as wonderful pleasure. + Faith! and at leisure once is he, + Straightway he wants to be busy. + + _R. Browning_. + + +Two weeks more passed: two weeks that seem to me so many years when I +look back upon them. Many more walks, early and late, many evenings of +music, many accidents of meeting. It is all like a dream. At seventeen +it is so easy to dream! It does not take two weeks for a girl to fall in +love and make her whole life different. + +It was Saturday evening, and Richard was expected; Richard and Kilian +and Mr. Eugene Whitney. Ah, Richard was coming just three weeks +too late. + +We were all waiting on the piazza for them, in pretty toilettes and +excellent tempers. It was a lovely evening; the sunset was filling the +sky with splendor, and Charlotte and Henrietta had gone to the corner of +the piazza whence the river could be seen, and were murmuring fragments +of verses to each other. They were not so much absorbed, however, but +that they heard the first sound of the wheels inside the gate, and +hurried back to join us by the steps. + +Mary Leighton looked absolutely lovely. The blue organdie had seen the +day at last, and she was in such a flutter of delight at the coming of +the gentlemen that she could scarcely be recognized as the pale, flimsy +young person who had moped so unblushingly all the week. + +"They are all three there," she exclaimed with suppressed rapture, as +the carriage turned the angle of the road that brought them into sight. +Mrs. Hollenbeck, quite beaming with pleasure, ran down the steps (for +Richard had been away almost two months), and Mary Leighton was at her +side, of course. Charlotte Benson and Henrietta went half-way down the +steps, and I stood on the piazza by the pillar near the door. + +I was a little excited by their coming, too, but not nearly as much so +as I might have been three weeks ago. A subject of much greater interest +occupied my mind that very moment, and related to the chances of the +tutor's getting home in time for tea, from one of those long walks that +were so tiresome. I felt as if I hardly needed Richard now. Still, dear +old Richard! It was very nice to see him once again. + +The gentlemen all sprang out of the carriage, and a Babel of welcomes +and questions and exclamations arose. Richard kissed his sister, and +answered some of her many questions, then shook hands with the young +ladies, but I could see that his eye was searching for me. I can't tell +why, certainly not because I felt at all shy, I had stepped back, a +little behind the pillar and the vines. In an instant he saw me, and +came quickly up the steps, and stood by me and grasped my hand, and +looked exactly as if he meant to kiss me. I hoped that nobody saw his +look, and I drew back, a little frightened. Of course, I know that he +had not the least intention of kissing me, but his look was so eager and +so unusual, + +"It is two months, Pauline," he said; "and are you well?" And though I +only said that I was well and was very glad to see him, I am sure his +sister Sophie thought that it was something more, for she had followed +him up the steps and stood in the doorway looking at us. + +The others came up there, and Kilian, as soon as he could get out of the +meshes of the blue organdie, came to me, and tried to out-devotion +Richard. + +That is the way with men. He had not taken any trouble to get away from +Mary Leighton till Richard came. + +A young woman only needs one lover very much in earnest, to bring about +her several others, not so much, perhaps, in earnest, but very amusing +and instructive. Richard went away very quickly, for I am sure he did +not like that sort of thing. + +It was soon necessary for Mr. Kilian to suspend his devotion and go to +his room to get ready for tea. + +When we all assembled again, at the table, I found that he had placed +himself beside me, next his sister, little Benny having gone to bed. + +"Of course, the head of the table belongs to Richard; I never interfere +there, and as everybody else is placed, this is the only seat that I can +take, following the rose and thorn principle." + +"But that principle is not followed strictly," cried Charlotte Benson, +who sat by Mary Leighton. "Here are two roses and no thorn." + +"Ah! What a strange oversight," he exclaimed, seating himself +nevertheless. "The only way to remedy it will be to put the tutor in +your place, Miss Benson, and you come opposite Miss Pauline. Quick; +before he comes and refuses to move his Teutonic bones an inch." +Charlotte Benson changed her seat and the vacant one was left between +her and Mary Leighton. + +This is the order of our seats, for that and many following happy nights +and days: + + Richard, +Mary Leighton, Henrietta, +The Tutor, Mr. Eugene Whitney, +Charlotte Benson, Myself, +Charley, Kilian, + Sophie. + +Mary Leighton looked furious and could hardly speak a word all through +the meal. It was particularly hard upon her, as the tutor did not come, +and the chair was empty, and a glaring insult to her all the time. + +Kilian had done his part so innocently and so simply that it was hard to +suspect him of any intention to pique her and annoy Richard, but I am +sure he did it with just those two intentions. He was as thorough a +flirt as any woman, and withal very fond of change, and I think my pink +grenadine quite dazzled him as I stood on the piazza. Then came the +brotherly and quite natural desire to outshine Richard and put things +out a little. I liked it all very much, and was charmed to be of so much +consequence, for I saw all this quite plainly. I laughed and talked a +good deal with Kilian; he was delightful to laugh and talk with. Even +Eugene Whitney found me more worth his weak attention than the beautiful +and placid Henrietta. + +The amusement was chiefly at our end of the table. But amidst it, I did +not fail to glance often at the door and wonder, uncomfortably, why the +tutor did not come. + +As we left the table and lingered for a few moments in the hall, Richard +came up to me and said, as he prepared to light his cigar, "Will you not +come out and walk up and down the path here with me while I smoke?" + +I began to make some excuse, for I wanted to do nothing just then but +watch the stairway to see if Mr. Langenau did not come down even then +and go into the dining-room. + +But I reflected how ungracious it would seem to refuse this, when he had +just come home, and I followed him out into the path. + +There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, and the air was sweet +with the flower-beds in the grass along the path we walked. + +The house looked gay and pleasant as we walked up and down before it, +with its many lighted windows, and people with bright dresses moving +about on the piazza. Richard lit his cigar, and said, after a silence +of a few moments, with a sigh, "It is good to be at home again." + +"But you've had a pleasant journey?" + +"No; the most tiresome that I ever made, and this last detention wore my +patience out. It seemed the longest fortnight. I could not bear to think +of you all here, and I away in such a dismal hole." + +"I suppose Uncle Leonard had no pity on you, as long as there was a +penny to be made by staying there." + +"No; I spent a great deal of money in telegraphing to him for orders to +come home, but he would not give up." + +"And how is Uncle Leonard; did you go to Varick-street?" + +"No, indeed; I did not waste any time in town. I only reached there +yesterday." + +"I wonder Uncle Leonard let you off so soon." + +"He growled a good deal, but I did not stay to listen." + +"That's always the best way." + +"And now, Pauline, tell me how you like the place." + +"Like it! Oh, Richard, I think it is a Paradise," and I clasped my hands +in a young sort of ecstacy. + +He was silent, which was a sign that he was satisfied. I went on after +a moment, "I don't wonder that you all love it. I never saw anything +half so beautiful. The dear old house is prettier than any new one that +could be built, and the trees are so grand! And oh, Richard, I think the +garden lying on the hillside there in the beautiful warm sun, with such +royal flowers and fruit, is worth all the grape-houses and +conservatories in the neighborhood. Your sister took us to three or four +of the neighboring places a week or two ago. But I like this a hundred +times the best. I should think you would be sorry every moment that you +have to spend away from it." + +"I hope one of these days to live here altogether," he said in a low +tone. + +It was so difficult for Richard to be unreserved that it is very likely +this was the first time in his life that he had ever expressed this, the +brightest hope he had. + +I could fancy all these few words implied--a wife, children, a happy +home in manhood where he had been a happy child. + +"It belongs to Kilian and me, but it is understood I have the right to +it when I am ready for it." + +"And your sister--it does not belong at all to her?" + +"No, she only keeps house for us. It would make a great change for +Sophie if either of us married. But then I know that it would give her +pleasure, for I am sure that she would not be selfish." + +I was not so sure, but, of course, I did not say so. At this moment, +while Richard smoked and I walked silently beside him, a dark figure +struck directly across the path before us. The apparition was so sudden +that I sprang and screamed, and caught Richard by the arm. + +"I beg your pardon," said the tutor, with a quick look of surprise at me +and then at Richard, and bowing, strode on into the house. + +"That's the German Sophie has taken for the boys, is it?" said Richard, +knitting his brows, and looking after him, with no great approbation. "I +don't half like the idea of his being here: I told Sophie so at +starting. A governess would do as well for two years yet. What kind of a +person does he seem to be?" + +"I don't know--that is--I can't tell exactly. I don't know him well +enough," I answered in confusion, which Richard did not see. + +"No, of course not. You would not be likely to see him except at the +table. But it is awkward having him here,--so much of the week, no man +about; and one never knows anything about these Germans." + +"I thought--your sister said--you knew all about him," I said, in rather +a low voice. + +"As much as one needs to know about a mere teacher. But the person you +have in your house all the time is different." + +"But he is a gentleman," I put in more firmly. + +"I hope he is. He had letters to some friends of ours. But what are +letters? People give them when they're asked for them, and half the time +know nothing of the person for whom they do the favor, besides his name +and general standing. Hardly that, sometimes." Then, as if to put away a +tiresome and unwelcome subject, he began again to talk about the place. + +But I had lost my interest in the subject, and thought only of returning +to the house. + +"Don't," I said, playfully putting out my hand as he took out another +cigar to light. "You have smoked enough to-night. Do you know, you smoke +a great deal more than is good for you." + +"Well, I will not smoke any more to-night if you say so. Only don't go +in the house." + +"Oh, yes, you know we only came out to smoke." + +He stood in front of the path that led to the piazza and said, in an +affectionate, gentle way, "Stay and walk a little longer. I have not +told you half how glad I am that you are here at last." + +"Oh, as for that, you've got a good many weeks to tell me in. Besides, +it's getting chilly," and I gave a little shiver. + +"If you're cold, of course," he said, letting me pass and following me, +and added, with a shade of anxiety, "Why didn't you tell me before? I +never thought of it, and you have no shawl." + +I felt ashamed of myself as I led the way up the piazza steps. + +In the hall, which was quite light, they were all standing, and Mr. +Langenau was in the group. They were petitioning him for music. + +"Oh, he has promised that he will sing," said Sophie; "but remember he +has not had his tea. I have ordered it for you, Mr. Langenau; it will be +ready in a moment." + +Mr. Langenau bowed and turned to go up the stairs. His eye met mine, as +I came into the light, dazzled a little by it. + +He went up the stairs; the others after a few moments, went into the +parlor. I sat down on a sofa beside Mrs. Hollenbeck. Richard was called +away by a person on business. There was a shaded lamp on a bracket above +the sofa where we sat; Mrs. Hollenbeck was reading some letters she had +just received, and I took up the evening paper, reading over and over an +advertisement of books. Presently the servant came to Mrs. Hollenbeck +and said that Mr. Langenau's tea was ready. She was sent up to tell him +so, and in a few moments he came down. When he reached the hall, Sophie +looked up with her most lovely smile. + +"You must be famished, Mr. Langenau; pray go immediately to the +dining-room. I am sorry not to make your tea myself, but I hear Benny +waking and must go to him. Will you mind taking my place, Pauline, and +pouring out tea for Mr. Langenau?" + +I was bending over the paper; my face turned suddenly from red to pale. +I said something inaudible in reply, and got up and went into the +dining-room, followed by the tutor. + +It was several minutes before I looked at him. The servants had not +favored us with much light: there was a branch of wax candles in the +middle of the table. Mr. Langenau's plate was placed just at one side of +the tray, at which I had seated myself. He looked pale, even to his +lips. I began to think of the terrible walks in which he seemed to hunt +himself down, and to wonder what was the motive, though I had often +wondered that before. He took the cup of tea I offered him without +speaking. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, then I said, rather +irresolutely, "I am sure you tire yourself by these long walks." + +"Do you think so? No: they rest me." + +No doubt I felt more coquettish, and had more confidence than usual, +from the successes of that evening, and from the knowledge that Richard +and Kilian and Eugene Whitney, even, were so delighted to talk to me; +otherwise I could never have said what I said then, by a sudden impulse, +and with a half-laughing voice, "Do not go away again so long; it makes +it so dull and tiresome." + +He looked at me and said, "It does not seem to me you miss me very +much." But such a gleam of those dark, dangerous eyes! I looked down, +but my breath came quickly and my face must have shown the agitation +that I felt. + +At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the library, +came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door. He paused for +a moment at the door, walked away again, then came back and into the +room, with rather a quicker step than usual. + +"Pauline," he said, and I started visibly, "They seem to be waiting for +you in the parlor for a game of cards." + +His voice indicated anything but satisfaction. I half rose, then sank +back, and said, hesitatingly, "Can I pour you some more tea, Mr. +Langenau?" + +"If it is not troubling you too much," he said in a voice that a +moment's time had hardened into sharpness. + +Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on one +side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and cynical. +My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and Richard +angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the lamp flamed +up and scorched my arm. + +"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and wrapping +my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all softness and +kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance. + +"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come with me, +and I will get Sophie to put something on it." + +But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my sufferings. I +was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the other hand to +replace the cup and fill it. Seeing that I did not make much headway, +and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau said, "Allow me," and +held the cup while I managed to pour the tea into it. He thanked me +stiffly, and without looking at either of them I got up and went out of +the room, Richard following me. + +"Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for you?" he +said a little coldly. + +"No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything more +about it; it only hurt me for a moment." + +"Will you go into the parlor, then?" + +"No--yes, that is," I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he did not +follow me. + +I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by one of the +windows, a little out of the light. This window opened upon the piazza. +After a little while Richard, walking up and down the piazza, stopped by +it, and said to me: "I hope you won't think it unreasonable in me to +ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you happen to be making tea for +that--that man in there?" + +"I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister asked me +to," I said angrily; "you had better speak to her about it." + +"You may be sure I shall," he said, walking away from the window. + +Presently the tutor came in from the hall by the door near the piano, +and sat down by it without being asked, and began to play softly, as if +not to interrupt the game of cards. I could not help thinking in what +good taste this was, since he had promised not to wait for any more +importunities. The game at cards soon languished, for Charlotte Benson +really had an enthusiasm for music, and was not happy till she was at +liberty to give her whole attention to it. As soon as the players were +released, Kilian came over and sat beside me. He rather wearied me, for +I wanted to listen to the music, but he was determined not to see that, +and chattered so that more than once Charlotte Benson turned impatiently +and begged us not to talk. Once Mr. Langenau himself turned and looked +at us, but Kilian only paused, and then went on again. + +Mary Leighton had fled to the piano and was gazing at the keys in a rapt +manner, hoping, no doubt, to rouse Kilian to jealousy of the tutor. + +"Please go away," I said at last, "this is making me seem rude." + +"Do not tell me," he exclaimed, "that you are helping Mary Leighton and +Sophie to spoil this German fellow. I really did not look for it in +you. I--" + +"I can't stay here and be talked to," I said, getting up in despair. + +"Then come on the piazza," he exclaimed, and we were there almost before +I knew what I was doing. + +I suppose every one in the room saw us go out: I was in terror when I +thought what an insult it would seem to Mr. Langenau. We walked about +the piazza for some time; I am afraid Mr. Kilian found me rather dull, +for I could only listen to what was going on inside. At last he was +called away by a man from the stable, who brought some alarming account +of his beloved Tom or Jerry. If I had been his bride at the altar, I am +sure he would have left me; being only a new and very faintly-lighted +flame, he hurried off with scarcely an apology. + +I sat down in a piazza-chair, just outside the window at which we had +been sitting. I looked in at the window, but no one could see me, from +the position of my chair. + +Presently Mr. Langenau left the piano, and Mary Leighton, talking to him +with effusion, walked across the room beside him, and took her seat at +this very window. He did not sit down, but stood before her with his hat +in his hand, as if he only awaited a favorable pause to go away. + +"Ah, where did Pauline go?" she said, glancing around. "But I suppose we +must excuse her, for to-night at least, as he has just come home. I +imagine the engagement was no surprise to you?" + +"Of what engagement do you speak?" he said. + +"Why! Pauline and Richard Vandermarck; you know it is quite a settled +thing. And very good for her, I think. He seems to me just the sort of +man to keep her steady and--well, improve her character, you know. She +seems such a heedless sort of girl. They say her mother ran away and +made some horrid marriage, and, I believe, her uncle has had to keep her +very strict. He is very much pleased, I am told, with marrying her to +Richard, and she herself seems very much in love with him." + +All this time he had stood very still and looked at her, but his face +had changed slowly as she spoke. I knew then that what she had said had +not pleased him. She went on in her babbling, soft voice: + +"His sister Sophie isn't pleased, of course, so there is nothing said +about it here. It _is_ rather hard for her, for the place belongs to +Richard, and besides, Richard has been very generous to her always. And +then to see him marry just such a sort of person--you know--so young--" + +"Yes--so young," said Mr. Langenau, between his teeth, "and of such +charming innocence." + +"Oh, as to that," said Mary Leighton, piqued beyond prudence, "we all +have our own views as to that." + +The largess due the bearer of good news was not by right the meed of +Mary Leighton. He looked at her as if he hated her. + +"Mr. Richard Yandermarck is a fortunate man," he said. "She has rare +beauty, if he has a taste for beauty." + +"Men sometimes tire of that; if indeed she has it. Her coloring is her +strong point, and that may not last forever;" and Mary's voice was no +longer silvery. + +"You think so?" he said. "I think her grace is her strong point, '_la +grâce encore plus belle que la beauté_,' and longer-lived beside. Few +women move as she does, making it a pleasure to follow her with the +eyes. And her height and suppleness: at twenty-five she will be regal." + +"Then, Mr. Langenau," she cried, with sudden spitefulness, "you _do_ +admire her very much yourself! Do you know, I thought perhaps you did. +How you must envy Mr. Vandermarck!" + +A slight shrug of the shoulders and a slight low laugh; after which, he +said, "No, I think not. I have not the courage that is necessary." + +"The courage! why, what do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that a man who ventures to love a woman in whom he cannot trust, +has need for courage and for patience; perhaps Mr. Richard Vandermarck +has them both abundantly. For me, I think the pretty Miss Pauline would +be safer as an hour's amusement than as a life's companion." + +The words stabbed, killed me. With an ejaculation that could scarcely +have escaped their ears, I sprang up and ran through the hall and up the +stairs. Before I reached the landing-place, I knew that some one was +behind me. I did not look or pause, but flew on through the hall till I +reached my own door. My own door was just at the foot of the third-floor +stairway. I glanced back, and saw that it was Mr. Langenau who was +behind me. I pushed open my door and went half-way in the room; then +with a vehement and sudden impulse came back into the hall and pulled it +shut again and stood with my hand upon the latch, and waited for him to +pass. In an instant more he was near me, but not as if he saw me; he +could not reach the stairway without passing so near me that he must +touch my dress. I waited till he was so near, and said, "Mr. Langenau." + +He raised his eyes steadily to mine and bowed low. I almost choked for +one instant, and then I found voice and rushed on vehemently. "What she +has told you is false; every word of it is false. I am not engaged to +Richard Vandermarck; I never thought of such a thing till I came here, +and found they talked about it. They ought to be ashamed, and I will go +away to-morrow. And what she said about my mother is a wicked lie as +well, at least in the way she meant it; and I shall hate her all my +life. I have been motherless and lonely always, but God has cared for +me, and I never knew before what evil thoughts and ways there were. I +am not ashamed that I listened, though I didn't mean to stay at first. +I'm glad I heard it all and know what kind of friends I have. And those +last cruel words you said--I never will forgive you, never--never--never +till I die." + +He had put his hand out toward me as if in conciliation, at least I +understood it so. I pushed it passionately away, rushed into my room, +bolted the door, and flung myself upon the bed with a frightful burst of +sobs. I heard his hand upon the latch of the door, and he said my name +several times in a low voice. Then he went slowly up the stairs. And I +think his room must have been directly over mine, for, for hours I heard +some one walking there; indeed, it was the last sound I heard, when, +having cried all my tears and vowed all my vows, I fell asleep and +forgot that I was wretched. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +SUNDAY. + + _La notte é madre di pensieri_. + + Now tell me how you are as to religion? + You are a clear good man--but I rather fear + You have not much of it. + + _Faust_. + + +It was all very well to talk about going away; but the matter looked +very differently by daylight. It was Sunday; and I knew I could not go +away for a day or two, and not even then without making a horrid sort of +stir, for which I had not the courage in cold blood. Besides, I did not +even know that I wanted to go if I could. Varick-street! Hateful, +hateful thought. No, I could not go there. And though (by daylight) I +still detested Mary Leighton, and felt ashamed about Richard, and +remembered all Mr. Langenau's words (sweet as well as bitter), +everything was let down a great many degrees; from the heights of +passion into the plains of commonplace. + +My great excitement had worked its own cure, and I was so dull and weary +that I did not even want to think of what had passed the night before. +If I had a sentiment that retained any strength, it was that of shame +and self-contempt. I could not think of myself in any way that did not +make me blush. When, however, it came to the moment of facing every one, +and going down to breakfast, I began to know I still had some +other feelings. + +I was the last to go down. The bell had rung a very long while before I +left my room. I took my seat at the table without looking at any one, +though, of course, every one looked at me. My confused and rather +general good-morning was returned with much precision by all. Somebody +remarked that I did not look well. Somebody else remarked that was +surely because I went to bed so early; that it never had been known to +agree with any one. Some one else wanted to know why I had gone so +early, and that I had been hunted for in all directions for a dance +which had been a sudden inspiration. + +"But as you had gone away, and the musician could not be found, we had +to give it up," said Charlotte Benson, "and we owe you both a grudge." + +"For my part, I am very sorry," said Mr. Langenau. "I had no thought +that you meant to dance last night, or I should have stayed at the +piano; I hope you will tell me the next time." + +"The next time will be to-morrow evening," said Mary Leighton. "Now, +Mr. Langenau, you will not forget--or--or get excited about anything +and go away?" + +I dared not look at Mr. Langenau's face, but I am sure I should not have +seen anything pleasant if I had. I don't know what he answered, for I +was so confused, I dropped a plate of berries which I was just taking +from Kilian's hand, and made quite an uncomfortable commotion. The +berries were very ripe, and they rolled in many directions on the +table-cloth, and fell on my white dress. + +"Your pretty dress is ruined, I'm afraid," said Kilian, stooping down to +save it. + +"I don't care about that, but I'm very sorry that I've stained the +table-cloth," and I looked at Mrs. Hollenbeck as if I thought that she +would scold me for it. But she quite reassured me. Indeed, I think she +was so pleased with me, that she would not have minded seeing me ruin +all the table-cloths that she had. + +"But it will make you late for church, for you'll have to change your +dress," said Charlotte Benson, practically, glancing at the clock. I was +very thankful for the suggestion, for I thought it would save me from +the misery of trying to eat breakfast, but Kilian made such an outcry +that I found I could not go without more comments than I liked. + +"You have no appetite either," said Mary Leighton. "I am ashamed to eat +as much as I want, for here is Mr. Langenau beside me, who has only +broken a roll in two and drank a cup of coffee." + +"I am not perhaps quite used to your American way of breakfasting," he +returned quickly. + +"But you ate breakfasts when we first came," said the sweet girl gently. + +"Was not the weather cooler then?" he answered, "and I have missed my +walk this morning." + +"Let me give you some more coffee, at any rate," said Sophie, with +affectionate interest. Indeed, I think at that moment she absolutely +loved him. + +In a few minutes I escaped from the table; when I came down from my room +ready for church, I found that they were all just starting. (Richard, I +suppose, would have waited for me.) The church was in the village, and +not ten minutes' walk from the house. Kilian was carrying Mary +Leighton's prayer-book, and was evidently intending to walk with her. + +Richard came up to me and said, "Sophie is waiting to know if you will +let her drive you, or if you will walk." + +I had not yet been obliged to speak to Richard since I had heard what +people said about us, and I felt uncomfortable. + +"Oh, let me drive if there is room," I said, without looking up. Sophie +sat in her little carriage waiting for me. Richard put me in beside her, +and then joined the others, while we drove away. Benny, in his white +Sunday clothes, sat at our feet. + +"I think it is so much better for you to drive," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, +"for the day is warm, and I did not think you looked at all well +this morning." + +"No," I said faintly. And she was so kind, I longed to tell her +everything. It is frightful at seventeen to have no one to tell your +troubles to. + +At the gate Benny was just grumbling about getting out to open it, when +Mr. Langenau appeared, and held it open for us. He was dressed in a +flannel suit which he wore for walking. After he closed the gate, he +came up beside the carriage, as Mrs. Hollenbeck very kindly invited him +to do, by driving slowly. + +"Are you coming with us to church, Mr. Langenau?" asked Benny. + +"To church? No, Benny. I am afraid they would not let me in." + +"Why, yes, they would, if you had your good clothes on," said Benny. + +Mr. Langenau laughed, a little bitterly, and said he doubted, even then. +"I am afraid I haven't got my good conscience on either, Benny." + +"But the minister would never know," said Benny. + +"That's very true; the ministers here don't know much about peoples' +consciences, I should think." + +"Do ministers in any other places know any more?" asked Benny with +interest. + +"Why, yes, Benny, in a good many countries where I've been, they do." + +"You are a Catholic, Mr. Langenau?" asked Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +"I once was; I have no longer any right to say it is my faith," he +answered slowly. + +"What is it to be a Catholic?" inquired Benny, gazing at his tutor's +face with wonder. + +"To be a Catholic, is to be in a safe prison; to have been a Catholic, +is to be alone on a sea big and black with billows, Benny." + +"I think I'd like the prison best," said Benny, who was very much afraid +of the water. + +"Ah, but if you couldn't get back to it, my boy." + +"Well, I think I'd try to get to land somewhere," Benny answered, +stoutly. + +Mr. Langenau laughed, but rather gloomily, and we went on for a few +moments in silence. The road was bordered with trees, and there was a +beautiful shade. The horse was very glad to be permitted to go slow, not +being of an ambitious nature. + +All this time I had been leaning back, holding my parasol very close +over my face. Mr. Langenau happened to be on the side by me: once when +the carriage had leaned suddenly, he had put his hand upon it, and had +touched, without intending it, my arm. + +"I beg your pardon," he had said, and that was all he had said to me; +and I had felt very grateful that Benny had been so inclined to talk. I +trusted that nobody would speak to me, for my voice would never be +steady and even again, I was sure, when he was by to listen to it. + +Now, however, he spoke to me: commonplace words, the same almost that +every one in the house had addressed to me that morning, but how +differently they sounded. + +"I am sorry that you are not well to-day, Miss d'Estrée." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck at this moment began to find some fault with Benny's +gloves, and leaning down, talked very obligingly and earnestly with him, +while she fastened the gloves upon his hands. + +Mr. Langenau took the occasion, as it was intended he should take it, +and said rather low, "You will not refuse to see me a few moments this +evening, that I may explain something to you?" + +I think he was disappointed that I did not answer him, only turned away +my head. But I don't know in truth what other answer he had any right to +ask. He did not attempt to speak again, but as we turned into the +village, said, "Good-morning, I must leave you. Good-bye, Benny, since I +have neither clothes nor conscience fit for church." + +Sophie laughed, and said, at least she hoped he would be home for +dinner. He did not promise, but raising his hat struck off into a little +path by the roadside, that led up into the woods. + +"What a pity," said Mrs. Hollenbeck musingly, "that a man of such fine +intellect should have such vague religious faith." + +Mr. Langenau was at home for dinner, but he did not see me at that meal, +for my head ached so, and I felt so weary that when I came up-stairs +after church, it seemed impossible to go down again. I should have been +very glad to make the same excuse serve for the remainder of the day, +but really the rest and a cup of tea had so restored me, that no excuse +remained at six o'clock. + +All families have their little Sunday habits, I have found; the Sunday +rule in this house was, to have tea at half-past six, and to walk by the +river till after the sun had set; then to come home and have sacred +music in the parlor. After tea, accordingly, we took our shawls on our +arms (it still being very warm) and walked down toward the river. + +I kept beside Mrs. Hollenbeck and Benny, where only I felt safe. + +The criticism I had heard had given me such a shock, I did not feel that +I ever could be careful enough of what I said and did. And I vaguely +felt my mother's honor would be vindicated, if I showed myself always a +modest and prudent woman. + +"It was so well that I heard them," I kept saying to myself, but I felt +so much older and so much graver. My silence and constraint were no +doubt differently interpreted. Richard did not come up to me, except to +tell me I had better put my shawl on, as I sat on the steps of the +boat-house, with Benny beside me. The others had walked further on and +were sitting, some of them on the rocks, and some on the boat that had +been drawn up, watching the sun go down. + +"Tell me a story," said Benny, resting his arms on my lap, "a story +about when you were a little girl." + +"Oh, Benny, that wouldn't make a pretty story." + +"Oh, yes, it would: all about your mamma and the house you used to live +in, and the children you used to go to see." + +"Dear Benny! I never lived in but one old, dismal house. I never went +to play with any children. I could not make a story out of that." + +"But your mamma. O yes, I'm sure you could if you tried very hard." + +"Ah, Benny! that's the worst of all. For my mamma has been with God and +the good angels in the sky, ever since I was a little baby, and I have +had a dreary time without her here alone." + +"Then I think you might tell me about God and the good angels," +whispered Benny, getting closer to me. + +I wrapped my arms around him, and leaning my face down upon his yellow +curls, told him a story of God and the good angels in the sky. + +Dear little Benny! I always loved him from that night. He cried over my +story: that I suppose wins everybody's heart: and we went together, +looking at the placid river and the pale blue firmament, very far into +the paradise of faith. My tears dropped upon his upturned face; and when +the stars came out, and we were told it was time to go back to the +house, we went back hand in hand, firm friends for all life from that +Sunday night. + +"There is Mr. Langenau," said Benny; "waiting for you, I should think." + +Mr. Langenau was waiting for me at the piazza steps. He fixed his eyes +on mine as if waiting for my permission to speak again. But I fastened +my eyes upon the ground, and holding Benny tightly by the hand, went on +into the house. + + + +Chapter IX. + +A DANCE. + + It is impossible to love and to be wise. + + _Bacon_. + + Niente piu tosto se secca che lagrime. + + +"This is what we must do about it," said Kilian, as we sat around the +breakfast-table. "If you are still in a humor for the dance to-night, I +will order Tom and Jerry to be brought up at once, and Miss Pauline and +I will go out and deliver all the invitations." + +"Of which there are about five," said Charlotte Benson. "You can spare +Tom and Jerry and send a small boy." + +"But what if I had rather go myself?" he said, "and Miss Pauline needs +the air. Now there are--let me see," and he began to count up the +dancing inhabitants of the neighborhood. + +"Will you write notes or shall we leave a verbal message at each door?" + +"Oh leave a verbal message by all means," said Charlotte Benson, a +little sharply. "It won't be quite _en règle_, as Miss d'Estrée doesn't +know the people, but so unconventional and fresh." + +"I do know them," I retorted, much annoyed, "conventionally at least: +for they have all called upon me, though I didn't see them all. But I +shall be very glad if you will take my place." + +"Oh, thank you; I wasn't moving an amendment for that end. We have made +our arrangements for the morning, irrespective of the delivery +of cards." + +"I shall have time to write the notes first, if Sophie would rather have +notes sent," said Henrietta, who wrote a good hand and was very fond of +writing people's notes for them. + +"Oh, thank you, dear; yes, perhaps it would be best, and save Pauline +and Kilian trouble." + +So Henrietta went grandly away to write her little notes: a very large +ship on a very small voyage. + +"And how about your music, Sophie," said Kilian, who was anxious to have +all business matters settled relating to the evening. + +"Well, I suppose you had better go for the music-teacher from the +village; he plays very well for dancing, and it is a mercy to me and to +poor Henrietta, who would have to be pinned to the piano for the +evening, if we didn't have him." + +"As to that, I thought we had a music-teacher of our own: can't your +German be made of any practical account? Or is he only to be looked at +and revered for his great powers?" + +"I didn't engage Mr. Langenau to play for us to dance," said Sophie. + +"Nor to lounge about the parlor every evening either," muttered Kilian, +pushing away his cup of coffee. + +"Now, Mr. Kilian, pray don't let our admiration of the tutor drive you +into any bitterness of feeling," cried Charlotte Benson, who had been +treasuring up a store of little slights from Kilian. "You know he can't +be blamed for it, poor man." + +Kilian was so much annoyed that he did not trust himself to answer, but +rose from the table, and asked me if I would drive with him in half +an hour. + +During the drive, he exclaimed angrily that Charlotte Benson had a +tongue that would drive a man to suicide if he came in hearing of it +daily. "Why, if she were as beautiful as a goddess, I could never love +her. Depend upon it, she'll never get a husband, Miss Pauline." + +"Some men like to be scolded, I have heard," I said. + +"Well then, if you ever stumble upon one that does, just call me and +I'll run and fetch him Charlotte Benson." + +The morning was lovely, and I had much pleasure in the drive, though I +had not gone with any idea of enjoying it. It was very exhilarating to +drive so fast as Kilian always drove; and Kilian himself always amused +me and made me feel at ease. We were very companionable; and though I +could not understand how young ladies could make a hero of him, and +fancy that they loved him, I could quite understand how they should find +him delightful and amusing. + +We delivered our notes, at more than one place, into the hands of those +to whom they were addressed, and had many pleasant talks at the piazza +steps with young ladies whom I had not known before. Then we went to the +village and engaged the music-teacher, stopped at the "store" and left +some orders, and drove to the Post-Office to see if there were letters. + +"Haven't we had a nice morning!" I exclaimed simply, as we drove up to +the gate. + +"Capital," said Kilian. "I'm afraid it's been the best part of the day. +I wish I had any assurance that the German would be half as pleasant. I +beg your pardon, I don't mean your surly Teuton, but the dance that we +propose to-night; I wish it had another name. Confound it! there he is +ahead of us. (I don't mean the dance this time, you see.) I wish he'd +turn back and open the gate for us. Holloa there!" + +Kilian would not have dared call out, if the boys had not been with +their tutor. It was one o'clock, and they were coming from the +farm-house back to dinner. At the call they all turned; Mr. Langenau +stood still, and told Charles to go back and open the gate. + +Kilian frowned; he didn't like to see his nephew ordered to do anything +by this unpleasant German. While we were waiting for the opening of the +gate, the tutor walked on toward the house with Benny. As we passed +them, Benny called out, "Stop, Uncle Kilian, stop, and take me in." +Benny never was denied anything, so we stopped and Mr. Langenau lifted +him up in front of us. He bowed without speaking, and Benny was the +orator of the occasion. + +"You looked as if you were having such a nice time, I thought I'd like +to come." + +"Well, we were," said Kilian, with a laugh, and then we drove on +rapidly. + +At the tea-table Mr. Langenau said to Sophie as he rose to go away: +"Mrs. Hollenbeck, if there is any service I can render you this evening +at the piano, I shall be very glad if you will let me know." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck thanked him with cordiality, but told him of the +provision that had been made. + +"But you will dance, Mr. Langenau," cried Mary Leighton, "we need +dancing-men terribly, you know. Promise me you'll dance." + +"Oh," said Charlotte Benson, "he has promised me." Mr. Langenau bowed +low; he got wonderfully through these awkward situations. As he left the +room Kilian said in a tone loud enough for us, but not for him, to hear, +"The Lowders have a nice young gardener; hadn't we better send to see if +he can't come this evening?" + +"Kilian, that's going a little too far," said Richard in a displeased +manner; "as long as the boys' tutor conducts himself like a gentleman, +he deserves to be treated like a gentleman." + +"Ah, Paterfamilias, thank you. Yes, I'll think of it," and Kilian +proposed that we should leave the table, as we all seemed to have +appeased our appetites and nothing but civil war could come of staying +any longer. + +It was understood we had not much time to dress: but when I came +down-stairs, none of the others had appeared. Richard met me in the +hall: he had been rather stern to me all day, but his manner quite +softened as he stood beside me under the hall-lamp. That was the result +of my lovely white mull, with its mint of Valenciennes. + +"You haven't any flowers," he said. Heavens! who'd have thought he'd +ever have spoken in such a tone again, after the cup of tea I poured out +for the tutor. "Let's go and see if we can't find some in these vases +that are fit, for I suppose the garden's robbed." + +"Yes," I said, following him, quite pleased. For I could not bear to +have him angry with me. I was really fond of him, dear, old Richard; and +I looked so happy that I have no doubt he thought more of it than he +ought. He pulled all the pretty vases in the parlor to pieces: +(Charlotte and Henrietta and his sister had arranged them with such +care!) and made me a bouquet of ferns, and tea-roses, and lovely, lovely +heliotrope. I begged him to stop, but he went on till the flowers were +all arranged and tied together, and no one came down-stairs till the +spoilage was complete. + +All this time Mr. Langenau was in the library--restless, pretending to +read a book. I saw him as we passed the door, but did not look again. +Presently we heard the sound of wheels. + +"There," said Richard, feeling the weight of hospitality upon him, +"Sophie isn't down. How like her!" + +But at the last moment, to save appearances, Sophie came down the +stairs and went into the parlor: indolent, favored Sophie, who always +came out right when things looked most against it. + +In a little while the empty rooms were peopled. Dress improved the young +ladies of the house very much, and the young ladies who came were some +of them quite pretty: The gentlemen seemed to me very tiresome and not +at all good-looking. Richard was quite a king among them, with his +square shoulders, and his tawny moustache, and his blue eyes. + +There were not quite gentlemen enough, and Mrs. Hollenbeck fluttered +into the library to hunt up Mr. Langenau, and he presently came out with +her. He was dressed with more care than usual, and suitably for evening: +he had the _vive_ attentive manner that is such a contrast to most young +men in this country: everybody looked at him and wondered who he was. +The music-teacher was playing vigorously, and so, before the German was +arranged, several impetuous souls flew away in waltzes up and down the +room. The parlor was a very large room. It had originally been two +rooms, but had been thrown into one, as some pillars and a slight arch +testified. The ceiling was rather low, but the many windows which opened +on the piazza, and the unusual size of the room, made it very pretty +for a dance. Mary Leighton and the tutor were dancing; somebody was +talking to me, but I only saw that. + +"How well he dances," I heard some one exclaim. + +I'm afraid it must have been Richard whom I forgot to answer just +before: for I saw him twist his yellow moustache into his mouth and bite +it; a bad sign with him. + +Kilian was to lead with Mary Leighton, and he came up to where we stood, +and said to Richard, "I suppose you have Miss Pauline for your partner?" + +Now I had been very unhappy for some time, dreading the moment, but +there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. So I said, "I hope you +are not counting upon me for dancing? You know I cannot dance!" + +"Not dance!" cried Kilian, in amazement; "why, I never dreamed of that." + +"You don't like it, Pauline?" said Richard, looking at me. + +"Like it!" I said, impatiently. "Why, I don't know how; who did I ever +have to dance with in Varick-street? Ann Coddle or old Peter? And Uncle +Leonard never thought of such a thing as sending me to school." + +"Why didn't you tell me before, and we wouldn't have bothered about +this stupid dance," said Kilian; but I think he didn't mean it, for he +enjoyed dancing very much. + +Richard had to go away, for though he hated it, he was needed, as they +had not gentlemen enough. + +The one or two persons who had been introduced to me, on going to join +the dance, also expressed regret. Even Mrs. Hollenbeck came up, and said +how sorry she was: she had supposed I danced. + +But they all went away, and I was left by one of the furthest windows +with a tiresome old man, who didn't dance either, because his legs +weren't strong enough, and who talked and talked till I asked him not +to; which he didn't seem to like. But to have to talk, with the noise of +the music, and the stir, of the dancing, and the whirl that is always +going on in such a room, is penance. I told him it made my head ache, +and besides I couldn't hear, and so at last he went away, and I was +left alone. + +Sometimes in pauses of the dance Richard came up to me, and sometimes +Kilian; but it had the effect of making me more uncomfortable, for it +made everybody turn and look at me. Bye and bye I stole away and went on +the piazza, and looked in where no one could see me. I could not go away +entirely, for I was fascinated by the dance. I longed so to be dancing, +and had such bitter feelings because I never had been taught. After I +left the room, I could see Richard was uncomfortable; he looked often at +the door, and was not very attentive to his partner. No one else seemed +to miss me. Mr. Langenau talked constantly to Miss Lowder, with whom he +had been dancing, and never looked once toward where I had been sitting. +A long time after, when they had been dancing--hours it seemed to +me--Miss Lowder seemed to feel faint or tired, and Mr. Langenau came out +with her, and took her up-stairs to the dressing-room. + +Ashamed to be seen looking in at the window, I ran into the library and +sat down. There was a student's lamp upon the table, but the room had no +other light. I sat leaning back in a large chair by the table, with my +bouquet in my lap, buttoning and unbuttoning absently my long white +gloves. In a moment I heard Mr. Langenau come down-stairs alone: he had +left Miss Lowder in the dressing-room to rest there: he came directly +toward the library. + +He came half-way in the door, then paused. "May I speak to you?" he said +slowly, fixing his eyes on mine. "I seem to be the only one who is +forbidden, of those who have offended you and of those who have not." + +"No one has said what you have," I said very faintly. + +In an instant he was standing beside me, with one hand resting on the +table. + +"Will you listen to me," he said, bending a little toward me and +speaking in a quick, low voice, "I did say what you have a right to +resent; but I said it in a moment when I was not master of my words. I +had just heard something that made me doubt my senses: and my only +thought was how to save myself, and not to show how I was staggered by +it. I am a proud man, and it is hard to tell you this--but I cannot bear +this coldness from you--and _I ask you to forgive me_" + +His eyes, his voice, had all their unconquerable influence upon me. I +bent over Richard's poor flowers, and pulled them to pieces while I +tried to speak. There was a silence, during which he must have heard the +loud beating of my heart, I think: at last he spoke again in a lower +voice, "Will you not be kind, and say that we are friends once more?" + +I said something that was inaudible to him, and he stooped a little +nearer me to catch it. I made a great effort and commanded my voice and +said, very low? but with an attempt to speak lightly, "You have not made +it any better, but I will forget it." + +He caught my hand for one instant, then let it go as suddenly. And +neither of us could speak. + +There is no position more false and trying than a woman's, when she is +told in this way that a man loves her, and yet has not been told it; +when she must seem not to see what she would be an idiot not to see; +when he can say what he pleases and she must seem to hear only so much. +I did no better and no worse than most women of my years would have +done. At last the silence (which did not seem a silence to me, it was so +full of new and conflicting thoughts,) was broken by the recommencement +of the music in the other room. He had taken a book in his hands and was +turning over its pages restlessly. + +"Why have you not danced?" he said at last, in a voice that still showed +agitation. + +"I have not danced because I can't, because I never have been taught." + +"You? not taught? it seems incredible. But let me teach you. Will you? +Teach you! you would dance by intention. And would love it--madly--as I +did years ago. Come with me, will you?" + +"Oh, no," I said, half frightened, shrinking back, "I am not going to +dance--ever." + +"Perhaps that is as well," he said in a low tone, meeting my eye for an +instant, and telling me by that sudden brilliant gleam from his, that +then he would be spared the pain of ever seeing me dancing with another. + +"But let me teach you something," he said after a moment. "Let me teach +you German--will you?" He sank down in a chair by the table, and leaning +forward, repeated his question eagerly. + +"Oh, yes, I should like it so much--if--." + +"If--if what? If it could be arranged without frightening and +embarrassing you, you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"I wonder if you are not more afraid of being frightened and embarrassed +than of any other earthly trial. There are worse things that come to us, +Miss d'Estrée. But I will arrange about the German, and you need have no +terror. How will I arrange? No matter--when Mrs. Hollenbeck asks you to +join a class in German, you will join it, will you not?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"You promise?" + +"Oh, anything." + +"Anything? take care. I may fill up a check for thousands, if you give a +blank." + +"I didn't give a blank; anything about German's what I meant." + +"Ah, that's safer, but not half so generous. And yet you're one who +might be generous, I think." + +"But tell me about the German class." + +"I've nothing to tell you about it," he answered, "only that you've +promised to learn." + +"But where are we to say our lessons, and what books are we to Study?" + +"Would you like to say a lesson now and get one step in advance of all +the others?" + +"O yes! I shall need at least as much grace as that." + +"Then say this after me: 'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH +LEHREN.' Begin. 'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--" + +"'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--but what does it mean?" + +"Oh, that is not important. Learn it first. Can you not trust me? 'ICH +WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH LEHREN.'" + +"'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--ah, you look as if my pronunciation were +not good." + +"I was not thinking of that; you pronounce very well. 'ICH WILL ALLES +LERNEN--'" + +"ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH LEHREN:--there _now_, tell me +what it means." + +"Not until you learn it; _encore une fois_." + +I said it after him again and again, but when I attempted it alone, I +made invariably some error. + +"Let me write it for you," he said, and pulling a book from his pocket, +tore out a leaf and wrote the sentence on it. "There--keep the paper and +study it, and say it to me in the morning." + +I have the paper still; long years have passed: it is only a crumpled +little yellow fragment; but the world would be poorer and emptier to me +if it were destroyed. + +I had quite mastered the sentence, saying it after him word for word, +and held the slip of paper in my hand, when I heard steps in the hall. I +knew Richard's step very well, and gave a little start. Mr. Langenau +frowned, and his manner changed, as I half rose from my seat, and as +quickly sank back in it again. + +"Is it that you lack courage?" he said, looking at me keenly. + +"I don't know what I lack," I cried, bending down my head to hide my +flushed face; "but I hate to be scolded and have scenes." + +"But who has a right to scold you and to make a scene?" + +"Nobody: only everybody does it all the same." + +"Everybody, I suppose, means Mr. Richard Vandermarck, who is frowning at +you this moment from the hall." + +"And it means you--who are frowning at me this moment from your seat." + +All this time Richard had been standing in the hall; but now he walked +slowly away. I felt sure he had given me up. The people began to come +out of the parlor, and I felt ready to cry with vexation, when I thought +that they would again be talking about me. It was true, I am afraid, +that I lacked courage. + +"You want me to go away?" he said, fixing his eyes intently on me. + +"O yes, if you only would," I said naïvely. + +He looked so white and angry when he rose, that I sprang up and put out +my hand to stop him, and said hurriedly, "I only meant--that is--I +should think you would understand without my telling you. A woman cannot +bear to have people talk about her, and know who she likes and who she +doesn't. It kills me to have people talk about me. I'm not used to +society--I don't know what is right--but I don't think--I am afraid--I +ought not to have stayed in here and talked to you away from all the +others. It's that that makes me so uncomfortable. That, and Richard too. +For I know he doesn't like to have me pleased with any one. Do not go +away angry with me. I don't see why you do not understand." + +My incoherent little speech had brought him to his senses. + +"I am not going away angry," he said in a low voice, "I will promise not +to speak to you again to-night. Only remember that I have feelings as +well as Mr. Richard Vandermarck." + +In a moment more I was alone. Richard did not come near me, nor seem to +notice me, as he passed through the hall. Presently Mr. Eugene Whitney +came in, and I was very glad to see him. + +"Won't you take me to walk on the piazza?" I asked, for everybody else +was walking there. He was only too happy; and so the evening ended +commonplace enough. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN. + + She wanted years to understand + The grief that he did feel. + + _Surrey_. + + Love is not love + That alters where it alteration finds. + + +This was how the German class was formed. + +The next day, as we were leaving the dinner-table, Mr. Langenau paused a +few moments by Sophie, in the hall, and talked with her about the boys. + +"Charley gets on very well with his German," he observed, "but Benny +doesn't make much progress. He is too young to study much, and acquires +chiefly by the ear. If you only had a German maid, or if you could speak +with him yourself, he would make much better progress." + +"Yes, I wish I had more knowledge of the language," she replied; "I read +it very easily, but cannot speak with any fluency." + +"Why will you never speak it with me?" he said. "And if you will permit +me, I shall be very glad to read with you an hour a day. I have much +leisure, and it would be no task to me." + +"I should like it very much, and you are very kind. But it is so hard +to find an hour unoccupied, particularly with so many people in the +house, whom I ought to entertain." + +"That is very true, unless you can make it a source of entertainment to +them. Miss Benson--is she not a German scholar? She might like to +join you." + +Then, I think, the clever Sophie's mind was illuminated, and the tutor's +little scheme was revealed to her clear eye; she embraced it with +effusion. "An admirable idea," she said, "and the others, too, perhaps, +would join us if you would not mind. It would be one hour a day at least +secure from _ennui:_ I shall have great cause to thank you, if we can +arrange it. For these girls get so tired of doing nothing; my mind is +always on the strain to think of an amusement. Charlotte! Come here, I +want to ask you something." + +Charlotte Benson came, and with her came Henrietta. I was sitting on the +sofa between the parlor-doors, and could not help hearing the whole +conversation, as they were standing immediately before me. + +"Mr. Langenau proposes to us to read an hour a day with him in German. +What do you think about it?" + +"Charming," said Charlotte with enthusiasm. "I cannot think of anything +that would give me greater pleasure. Henrietta and I have read in German +together for two winters, and it will be enchanting to continue it with +such a master as Mr. Langenau." + +Henrietta murmured her satisfaction, and then Charlotte rushed into +plans for the course, leaving me in despair, supposing I had been +forgotten. What place I was to find in such advanced society I could not +well imagine. + +Mr. Langenau never turned his head in my direction, and talked with Miss +Benson with so much earnestness about the books into which they were to +plunge, that I could not convince myself that all this was undertaken +solely that he might teach me German. In a little while they seemed to +have settled it all to their satisfaction, and he had turned to go away. +My heart was in my throat. Mrs. Hollenbeck had not forgotten me. She +said something low to Mr. Langenau. + +"Ah, true!" he said. "But does she know anything of German?" Then +turning to me he said, with one of his dazzling sudden glances, "Miss +d'Estrée, we are talking of making up a German class; do you understand +the language?" + +"No," I said, meeting his eye for a moment, "I have only taken one +lesson in my life," and then blushed scarlet at my own audacity. + +"Ah," said he, as if quite sorry for the disappointment, "I wish you +were advanced enough to join us." + +Then Charlotte Benson, quite ignoring the interruption, began to ask him +about a book that she wanted very much to find. Mr. Langenau had it in +his room--a most happy accident, and there was a great deal said about +it. I again was left in doubt of my fate. Again Sophie interposed. "We +have forgotten Mary Leighton," she said, gently. + +"Does Miss Leighton know anything of German?" + +"Not a thing," said Henrietta. + +"What does she know anything of, but flirting?" said Charlotte with +asperity, glancing out into the grounds where Kilian was murmuring +softest folly to her under her pongee parasol. + +"Perhaps she'd like to learn," suggested Sophie. "She and Pauline might +begin together; that is, if Mr. Langenau would not think it too much +trouble to give them an occasional suggestion. And you, Charlotte, I am +sure, could help them a great deal." + +Charlotte made no disguise of her disinclination to undertake to help +them. + +Mr. Langenau expressed his willingness so unenthusiastically, that I +think Mrs. Hollenbeck was staggered. I saw her glance anxiously at him, +as if to know what really he might mean. She concluded to interpret +according to the context, however, and went on. + +"But it will be so much better for all to undertake it, if one does. +Suppose they try and see how it will work, either before or after +our lesson." + +"_De tout mon coeur_," said Mr. Langenau, as if, however, his _coeur_ +had very little interest in the matter. + +"Well, about the hour?" said Charlotte, the woman of business; "we +haven't settled that after all our talking." + +There was a great deal more, oh, a great deal more, and then it was +settled that five in the afternoon should be considered the German +hour--subject to alteration as circumstances should arise. + +Mrs. Hollenbeck very discreetly ordered that a beginning should not be +made till the next day but one. "The gentlemen will all be here +to-morrow, and there may be something else going on." I knew very well +she was afraid of Richard, and thought he would not approve her zeal for +our improvement. + +The first lesson was very dull work for me. It was agreed that Mary +Leighton and I should take our lesson after the others, sitting beside +them, however, for the benefit of such crumbs of information as might +fall to us. + +Mr. Langenau took no special notice of me then, and very little that +was flattering when Mary Leighton and I began our lesson proper. Mrs. +Hollenbeck, Charlotte, and Henrietta took up their books and left, when +the infant class was called. I do not think Mr. Langenau took great +pains to make the study of the German tongue of interest to Miss +Leighton. She was unspeakably bored, and never even learned the +alphabet. She was very much unused to mental application, undoubtedly, +and was annoyed at appearing dull. There was but one door open to her; +to vote German a bore, and give up the class. She made her exit by that +door on the occasion of the second lesson, and Mr. Langenau and I were +left to pursue our studies undisturbed. The rendezvous was the piazza in +fine weather, and the library when it was damp or cloudy. The fidelity +with which the senior Germans gathered up their books and left, when +their hour was over, was mainly due to the kind thoughtfulness of Mrs. +Hollenbeck, who was always prompt, and always found some excuse for +carrying away Charlotte and Henrietta with her when she went. + +It can be imagined what those hours were to me, those soft, golden +afternoons. Sometimes we took our books and went out under the trees to +some shaded seats, and sat there till the maid came out to call us in to +tea. Happy, happy hours in dreamland! But what peril to me, and perhaps +to him. It is vain to go over it all: it is enough that of all the happy +days, that hour from six o'clock till tea-time was the happiest: and +that with strange smoothness, day after day passed on without bringing +interruption to it. At six the others went to ride or walk; I was never +called, and did not even wonder at it. + +All this time Richard had been going every day to town and coming back +by the evening train. It was pretty tiresome work, and he looked rather +pale and worn; but I believe he could not stay away. I sometimes felt a +little sorry when I saw how much he was out of spirits, but I was in +such a happy realm myself, it did not depress me long: in truth, I +forgot it when he was not actually before me, and sometimes even then. +"I do not think you are listening to what I say," he said to me one +night as he sat by me in the parlor. I blushed desperately, and tried to +listen better. Ah! how often it happened after that. I blush again to +think how much I pained him, and how silently he bore it all. + +The last days of July were very busy ones in the Wall-street office, and +Richard did not give himself a holiday, till one Saturday, much to be +remembered, the very last day of the month. I recall with penitence, +the impatient feeling that I had when Richard told me he was going to +take the day at home. I felt intuitively that it would spoil it all for +me. After breakfast, we all played croquet, and then I shut myself into +my room with my German books, and selfishly saw no one till dinner. At +dinner I was excited and half frightened, as I always was when Mr. +Langenau and Richard were both present, and both watching me; it was +impossible to please either. + +Something was said about the afternoon, and Richard (who all this time +knew nothing of the German class) said to me, evidently afraid of some +other engagement being entered on, "I hope you will drive with me, +Pauline, at five. I ordered the horses when I was down at the stables; I +think the afternoon is going to be fine." It was rather a public way of +asking one out of so many to go and take a drive; but in truth, Richard +was too honest and straightforward to care who knew what he was in +pursuit of, and too sore at heart and too indifferent an actor to +conceal it if he had desired. But the invitation struck me with such +consternation. At five o'clock! The flower and consummation of the day! +The hour that I had been looking forward to, since seven the day before. +I could not lose it. I would not go to drive. I hated Richard. I hated +going to drive. I grew very brave, and was on the point of saying that +I could not go, when I caught Sophie's eye. She made me a quick sign, +which I dared not disobey. I blushed crimson, and did not lift my eyes +again, but said in a low voice that I would go. Then my heart seemed to +turn to lead, and all the glory and pleasure of the day was gone. It +seemed to me of such vast importance, of such endless duration, this +penance that I was to undergo. O lovers! Foolish, foolish men and women! +I was like a child balked of its holiday; I wanted to cry--I longed to +get away by myself. I did not dare to look at any one. + +Mr. Langenau excused himself, and left the table before the others went +away. As we were leaving the table, Sophie, passing close by me, said +quite low, "I would not say anything about the German class, Pauline. +And it was a great deal better that you should go; you know Richard has +not many holidays." + +"Yes, but you don't give up all your pleasures for him," I thought, but +did not say. + +I went quickly to my room, and saw no one till I came down-stairs at +five o'clock. I had on a veil, for my face was rather flushed, and my +eyes somewhat the worse for crying. Richard was waiting for me at the +foot of the stairs, and accompanied me silently to the wagon, which +stood at the door. As we passed the parlor I could see, on the east +piazza, Mr. Langenau and Charlotte already at their books. Both were so +engrossed that they did not look up as we went through the hall. For +that, Richard, poor fellow! had to suffer. I was too unreasonable to +comprehend that Mr. Langenau's absorbed manner was a covering for his +pique. It was enough torture to have to lose my lesson, without seeing +him engrossed with some one else, whose fate was happier than mine. +Perhaps, after all, he was fascinated by Charlotte Benson. She was +bright, clever, and understood him so well. She admired him so much. She +was, I was sure, half in love with him. (The day before I had concluded +she liked Richard very much.) That was a very disagreeable drive. I +complained of the heat. The sun hurt my eyes. + +"We can go back, if you desire it," said Richard, with a shade of +sternness in his voice, stopping the horses suddenly, after two miles of +what would have been ill-temper if we had been married, but was now +perhaps only petulance. + +"I don't desire it," I said, quite frightened, "but I do wish we could +go a little faster till we get into the shade." + +After that, there was naturally very little pleasure in conversation. I +felt angry with Richard and ashamed of myself. For him, I am afraid his +feelings were very bitter, and his silence the cover of a sore heart. We +had started to take a certain drive; we both wished it over, I suppose, +but both lacked courage to shorten it, or go home before we were +expected. There was a brilliant sunset, but I am sure we did not see it: +then the clouds gathered and the twilight came on, and we were +nearly home. + +"Pauline," said Richard, hoarsely, not looking at me, and insensibly +slackening the hold he had upon the reins; "will you let me say +something to you? I want to give you some advice, if you will listen +to me." + +"I don't want anybody to advise me," I said in alarm, "and I don't know +what right you have to expect me to listen to you, Richard, unless it is +that I am your guest; and I shouldn't think that was any reason why I +should be made to listen to what isn't pleasant to me." + +The horses started forward, from the sudden emphasis of Richard's pull +upon the reins; and that was all the answer that I had to my most +unjustifiable words. Not a syllable was spoken after that; and in a few +moments we were at the house. Richard silently handed me out; if I had +been thinking about him I should have been frightened at the expression +of his face, but I was not: I was only thinking--that we were at home, +and that I was going to have the happiness of meeting Mr. Langenau. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SOPHIE'S WORK. + + A nature half transformed, with qualities + That oft betrayed each other, elements + Not blent, but struggling, breeding strange effects + Passing the reckoning of his friends or foes. + + _George Eliot_. + + + High minds of native pride and force + Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse! + Fear for their scourge, mean villains have, + Thou art the torturer of the brave. + + _Scott_. + + +This was what Sophie had done: she had invoked forces that she could not +control, and she felt, as people are apt to feel when they watch their +monster growing into strength, a little frightened and a little sorry. +No doubt it had seemed to her a very small thing, to favor the folly of +a girl of seventeen, fascinated by the voice and manner of a nameless +stranger; it was a folly most manifest, but she had nothing to do with +it, and was not responsible; a very small thing to allow, and to +encourage what, doubtless, she flattered herself, her discouragement +could not have subdued. It was very natural that she should not wish +Richard to many any one; she was not more selfish than most sisters are. +Most sisters do not like to give their brothers up. She would have to +give up her home (one of her homes, that is,) as well. She did not think +Richard's choice a wise one: she was not subject to the fascination of +outline and coloring that had subjugated him, and she felt sincerely +that she was the best judge. If Richard must marry (though in thinking +of her own married life, she could not help wondering why he must), let +him marry a woman who had fortune, or position, or talent. Of course +there was a chance that this one might have money, but that would be +according to the caprice of a selfish old man, who had never been known +to show any affection for her. + +But money was not what Richard wanted: his sister knew much better what +Richard wanted, than he knew himself. He wanted a clever woman, a woman +who would keep him before the world and rouse him into a little ambition +about what people thought of him. Sophie was disappointed and a little +frightened when she found that Richard did not give up the outline and +coloring pleasantly. She had thought he would be disillusionized, when +he found he was thrown over for a German tutor, who could sing. She had +not counted upon seeing him look ill and worn, and finding him stern and +silent to her; to her, of whom he had always been so fond. She found he +was taking the matter very seriously, and she almost wished that she had +not meddled with the matter. + +And this German tutor--who could sing--well, it was strange, but he was +the worst feature of her Frankenstein, and the one at which she felt +most sorry and most frightened. Richard was very bad, to be sure, but he +would no doubt get over it: and if it all came out well, she would be +the gainer. As to "this girl for whom his heart was sick," she had no +manner of patience with her or pity for her. + +"She must suffer: so do all;" she would undoubtedly have a hard future, +no matter to which of these men who were so absurd about her, Fate +finally accorded her: hard, if she married Richard without loving him +(nobody knew better than Sophie how hard that sort of marriage was); +hard, if she married the German, to suffer a lifetime of poverty and +ill-temper and jealous fury. But about all that, Sophie did not care a +straw. She knew how much women could live through, and it seemed to be +their business to be wretched. + +But this man! And she could not gain anything by what he suffered, with +his dangerous nature, his ungovernable jealousy, his possibly involved +and unknown antecedents; what was to become of him, in case he could not +have this girl of whom six weeks ago he had not heard? A pretty +candidate to present to "mon oncle" of the Wall-street office, for the +hand of the young lady trusted to their hospitality--a very pretty +candidate--a German tutor--who could sing. If he took her, it was to be +feared he would have to take her without more dowry than some very heavy +imprecations. But could he take her, even thus? Sophie had some very +strange misgivings. This man was desperately unhappy: was suffering +frightfully: it made her heart ache to see the haggard lines deepening +on his face, to see his colorless lips and restless eyes. She was sorry +for him, as a woman is apt to be sorry for a fascinating man. And then +she was frightened, for he was "no carpet knight so trim," to whom +cognac, and cigars, and time would be a balm: this man was essentially +dramatic, a dangerous character, an article with which she was +unfamiliar. He was frantic about this silly girl: that was plain to see. +Why then was he so wretched, seeing she was as irrationally in love +with him? + +"If it only comes out right," she sighed distrustfully many times a day. +She resolved never to interfere with anything again, but it came rather +late, seeing she probably had done the greatest mischief that she ever +would be permitted to have a hand in while she lived. She made up her +mind not to think anything about it, but, unfortunately for that plan, +she could not get out of sight of her work. If she had been a man, she +would probably have gone to the Adirondacks. But being a woman she had +to stay at home, and sit down among the tangled skeins which she had not +skill to straighten. + +"If it only comes out right," she sighed again, the evening of that most +uncomfortable drive, "If it only comes out right." But it did not look +much like it. + +I had gone directly in to tea, and so had Richard. Richard's face +silenced and depressed everybody at the table; and Mr. Langenau did +not come. + +"There is going to be a terrible shower," said some one, and before the +sentence was ended, there was a vivid flash of lightning that made the +candles pale. + +"How rapidly it has come up," said Sophie. "Was the sky black when you +came in, Richard?" + +"I do not know," said Richard, and nobody doubted that he told the +truth. + +"It had begun to darken before we came up from the river." said +Charlotte Benson. "The clouds were rising rapidly as we came in. It +will be a fearful tempest." + +"Are the windows all shut?" said Sophie to the servant. + +"I should think so," exclaimed Kilian. "The heat is horrid." + +"Yes, it is suffocating," said Richard, getting up. + +As he went out of the dining-room, some one, I think Henrietta, said, +"Well, I hope Mr. Langenau will get in safely; he was out on the river +when we were on the hill." + +The storm was so sudden and so furious that everybody was concerned at +hearing this; even Kilian made some exclamation of alarm. + +"Does he know anything about a boat?" he asked of Richard, who had +paused in the doorway, hearing what was said. + +"I have no idea," said Richard, shortly, but he did not go away. + +"It isn't the sail-boat that he has, of course," said Kilian, +thoughtfully. "He always goes out to row, I believe." + +"Why, no," said Charlotte Benson, "he's in the sail-boat; don't you +remember saying, Henrietta, how bright the gleam of the sunset was on +the sail, and all the water was so dark?" + +Kilian came to his feet very suddenly at these words. + +"That's a bad business," he said quickly to his brother. "I've no idea +he can manage her in such a squall." + +Sophie gave a little scream, and Charlotte and Henrietta both grew very +pale, as a frightful shock of thunder followed. The wind was furious, +and the unfastened shutters in various parts of the house sounded like +so many reports of pistols, and in an instant the whole force of the +rain fell suddenly and at once upon the windows. Somewhere some glass +was shattered, and all these sounds added to the sense of danger, and +the darkness was so great and so sudden, that it was difficult to +realize that half an hour before, the sunset could have whitened the +sails of a boat upon the river. + +"I'm afraid it's too late to do much now," said Kilian, stopping in +front of his brother in the doorway. + +"What's the use of talking in that way," returned Richard in a hoarse, +low voice. "If you hav'nt more sense than to talk so before women, you +can stay at home with them," he continued, striding across the hall, and +picking up a lantern that stood in a corner near the door. Charlotte +Benson caught up one of the candles from the table, and ran to him and +lit the lamp within the lantern. Sophie threw a cloak over Kilian's +shoulders, and Henrietta flew to carry a message to the kitchen. Richard +pulled a bell that was a signal to the stable (the stable was very near +the house), and in almost a moment's time two men, beside Kilian, were +following him out into the tempest. We saw their lanterns flicker for an +instant, and then they were swallowed up in the darkness. The fury of +the storm increased every moment. The flashes of lightning were but a +few seconds apart, and the roll of thunder was incessant. Every few +moments, above this continued roar, would come an appalling crash which +sounded just above our heads. The children were screaming with fear, the +servants had come into the hall and seemed in a helpless sort of panic. +Sophie was very pale and Mary Leighton clung hysterically to her. +Charlotte Benson was the only one who seemed to be self-possessed enough +to have done anything, if there had been anything to do. But there was +not. All we could do was to try to behave ourselves with fortitude in +view of the personal danger, and with composure in view of that of +others. Presently there came a lull in the tempest, and we began to +breathe freer; some one went to the door and opened it. A gust of cold +wind swept through the hall and put out the lamp, at which the children +and Mary Leighton renewed their cries of fright. + +The respite in the tempest was but temporary; before the lamp was relit +and order restored, the storm had burst again upon us. This was, if +anything, fiercer, but shorter lived. After fifteen or twenty minutes' +rage, it subsided almost utterly, and we could hear it taking itself off +across the heavens. I suppose the whole storm, from its beginning to its +end, had not occupied more than three quarters of an hour, but it had +seemed much longer. + +We were very glad to open the door and let the cool, damp air into the +hall. The children were taken up-stairs, consoled with the promise that +word should be sent to them when their uncles should return. The +servants went feebly off to their domain; one was sent to sweep the +piazza, for the rain had beaten in such torrents upon it that it was +impossible to walk there, till it should be brushed away. Wrapped in +their shawls, Henrietta and Charlotte Benson walked up and down the +space that the servant swept, and watched and listened for a long +half-hour. I took a cloak from the rack and, leaning against the +door-post, stood and listened silently. + +From the direction of the river there was nothing to be heard. There was +still distant thunder, but that was the only sound, that and the +dripping of the rain off the leaves of the drenched trees. The wind was +almost silent, and in the spaces of the broken clouds there were +occasional faint stars. A fine, young tree, uprooted by the tempest, lay +across the carriage-way before the house, its topmost branches resting +on the steps of the piazza: the grass was strewed with leaves like +autumn, and the paths were simply pools of water. Sophie, more than +once, came to the door, and begged us to come in, for fear of the +dampness and the cold, but no one heeded her suggestion. Even she +herself came out very often, and looked and listened anxiously. Finally +my ear caught a sound: I ran down the steps, and bent forward eagerly. +There was some one coming along the garden-path that led up from the +river. I could hear the water plashing as he walked, and he was coming +rapidly. In a moment the others heard it too, and starting to the steps, +stood still, and waited breathlessly. He had no lantern, for we could +have seen that; he was almost at the steps before I could recognize him. +It was Richard. I gave a smothered cry, and springing forward, held out +my hands to stop him. + +"Tell me what has happened." He put aside my hands, and went past me +without a second look. + +"There has nothing happened, but what he can tell you when he comes," +he said, as he strode past me up the steps, and on into the house. Then +he was alive to tell me: the reaction was a little too strong for me, +and I sat down on the steps to try and recover myself, for I was ill +and giddy. + +In a few moments more, more steps sounded in the distance, this time +slowly, several persons coming together. I started and ran up the steps, +I don't exactly know why, and stood behind the others, who were crowding +down, servants and all, to hear what was the news. Kilian came first, +very drenched, and spattered, and subdued looking, then Mr. Langenau, +leaning upon one of the men, very pale, but making an attempt to smile +and speak reassuringly to Sophie, who met him with looks of great alarm. +It evidently gave him dreadful pain to move, and when he reached the +house he was quite faint. Charlotte Benson placed a chair, into which +they supported him. + +"Run, Pauline, and get some brandy," said Sophie, putting a bunch of +keys into my hand without looking at me. + +When I came back with the glass of brandy, he was conscious again, and +looked at me and took the glass from my hand. The other man had been +sent for the doctor from the village, who was expected every moment, +and Mr. Langenau, who was now revived by stimulants, was quite +reassuring, and attempted to laugh at us for being so much frightened. +Then the young ladies' curiosity got the better of their terror, and +they clamored for the history of the past two hours. This history was +given them principally by Kilian. I cannot repeat it satisfactorily, for +the reason that I don't know anything about jibs, and bowsprits, and +masts, and centre-boards, and I did not understand it at the time; but I +received enough out of the mass of evidence presented in that language, +to be sure that there had been considerable danger, and that everybody +had behaved well. In fact, Kilian's changed manner toward the tutor of +itself was quite enough to show that he had behaved unexpectedly well. + +The unvarnished and unbowspritted and unjib-boomed tale was pretty much +as follows: Mr. Langenau had found himself in the middle of the river, +when the storm came on. I am afraid he could not have been thinking very +much about the clouds, not to have noticed that a storm was rising; +though every one agreed that they had never known anything like the +rapidity of its coming up. Before he knew what he was about, a squall +struck him, and he had great difficulty to right the boat. (Then +followed a good deal about luffing and tacking and keeping her taut to +windward; that is, I think that was where he wanted to keep her.) But +whatever it was, he didn't succeed in doing it, and Kilian vouchsafed to +say nobody could have done it. Then something split: I really cannot say +whether it was the mast, or the bowsprit, or the centre-board, but +whatever it was, it hurt Mr. Langenau so much that for a moment he was +stunned. And then Kilian cannot see why he wasn't drowned. When he came +to himself he was still holding the rudder in his hand. + +The other arm was useless from the falling of--this thing that +split--upon it. And so the boat was floundering about in the gale till +it got righted, and it was Mr. Langenau's presence of mind that saved +him and the boat, for he never let go the rudder, and controlled her as +far as he could, though he did not know where he was going, the +blackness was so great, and the flashes did not show him the shore; and +he was like one placed in the midst of a frightful sea wakened out of a +dream, owing to the blow and the unconsciousness which followed. + +Then Richard came upon the stage as hero; he and one of the men had gone +out in the only boat at hand, a very small one, toward the speck, which, +by the flashes of lightning, he saw out upon the river. It was almost +impossible to overhaul her, and it could not have been done at the rate +she was going, of course; but then occurred that accident which rendered +Mr. Langenau unconscious, and which brought things to a standstill for a +moment. Kalian said we did not know anything about the storm up here at +the house; that more than one tree had been struck within a few feet of +him on the shore. The river was surging; the wind was furious; no one +could imagine what it was who had not witnessed it, and he, for his +part, never expected to see Richard come back to land. But Richard did +come back, and brought back the disabled sail-boat and the injured man. +That was the end of the story; which thrilled us all very much, as we +knew the heroes, and had one of them before us, ghastly pale but +uncomplaining. + +It seemed as if the doctor never would come! We were women, and we +naturally looked to the coming of the doctor as the end of all the +trouble. It was impossible to make the poor fellow comfortable. He could +not lie down, he could not move without excruciating pain, and very +frequently he grew quite faint. Charlotte Benson and Sophie administered +stimulants; endeavored to ease his position with pillows and footstools; +and did all the nameless soothing acts that efficient and good nurses +alone understand; while I, paralyzed and mute, stood aside, scarcely +able to bear the sight of his sufferings. I am sorry to say, I don't +think he cared at all to have me by him. He was in such pain that he +cared only for the attendance of those who could alleviate it in a +measure; and the strong firm hand and the skilled touch were more to him +than the presence of one who had nothing but excited and unavailing +sympathy to offer. It was rather a stern fact walking into my +dreamland, this. + +By and bye Kilian went away to take off his wet clothes, and he did not +come back again, but sent down a message to his sister that he was very +tired and should go to bed, but if he were wanted for anything he could +be called. This was not heroic of Kilian, but, after the manner of men, +he was apt to keep away from the sight of disagreeable things. + +After all, he could not do much good, but it was something to feel there +was a man to call upon, besides Patrick, who was stupid; and I saw +Charlotte Benson's lip curl when Kilian's message was brought down. + +Richard was in his room: we all thought he had done enough for one +night, and had a right to rest. + +At last, after the most weary waiting, wheels were heard, and the doctor +drove up to the door. The servants had begun to look very sleepy. Mary +Leighton had slipped away to her room, and Sophie had told Henrietta +and me to go, for we were really of no earthly use. We did not take her +advice as a compliment, and did not go. Henrietta opened the door for +the doctor, which was doing something though not much, as two of the +maids stood prepared to do it if she did not. + +The doctor was a reassuring, quiet man, and became a pillar of strength +at once. After talking a few moments with Mr. Langenau, and pulling and +twisting him rather ruthlessly, he walked a little away with Sophie, and +told her he wanted him got at once to his room, and he should need the +assistance of one of the gentlemen. Would not Patrick do? Besides +Patrick. Mr. Langenau's shoulder was dislocated, badly, and it must be +set at once. It was a painful operation and he needed help. I was within +hearing of this, and I was in great alarm. Sophie looked so too, and I +don't think she liked disagreeable things any better than her brother, +but she was a woman, and could not shirk them as he could. + +"Pauline," she said, finding me at her side as she turned, "run up and +tell Richard that he must come down, quick. Tell him how it is, and that +he must make haste." + +I ran up the stairs breathlessly, but feeling all the time that it was +rather hard that I must be sent to Richard with this message. Sophie did +not want to ask him to come down herself, and she thought me the most +likely ambassador to bring him, but it was not a congenial embassy. +Perhaps, however, she only asked me because I happened to be nearest +her, and she was rather upset by what the doctor said. + +I knocked at Richard's door. + +"Well?" + +"Oh, they want you to come down-stairs a minute. There's something to be +done," panting and rather incoherent. + +"What is to be done?" + +"The Doctor's here, and he says he must have help." + +"Where's Kilian?" + +"Gone to bed." + +Some suppressed ejaculation, and he pushed back his chair, and rose, and +came across the room: at least it sounded so, and I ran down the stairs +again. He followed me in a moment. The Doctor came forward and talked to +him a little while, and then Richard called Patrick, and told Sophie to +see that Mr. Langenau's room was ready. + +"How can he get up two pairs of stairs," said Charlotte Benson, "when +he cannot move an inch without such suffering?" + +"That's very true," the Doctor said. "I doubt if he could bear it. You +have no room below?" + +"Put a bed in the library," said Charlotte Benson, and in ten minutes it +was done; the servants no longer sleepy when they had any definite order +to fulfill. + +"In the meantime," said Richard to his sister, "send those two to bed," +pointing out Henrietta and me. + +"I've told them to go, but they won't," said Sophie, somewhat sharply. + +Henrietta walked off, rather injured, but I would not go. + +Mr. Langenau had another faint attack, and I was quite certain he would +die. Charlotte was making him breathe _sal volatile_ and Sophie ran to +rub his hands. The Doctor was busy at the light about something. + +"The room is all ready," said the servant. + +"Very well; now Mr. Richard, if you please," the Doctor said. + +"Pauline," said Richard, coming to me as I stood at the foot of the +balusters, "You can't do any good. You'd better go up-stairs." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, "I think you're very cruel; I think you might +let me stay." + +I suppose my wretchedness, and youthfulness, and folly softened him +again, and he said, very gently, "I don't mean to be unkind, but it is +best for you to go. You need not be so frightened: there isn't +any danger." + +I moved slowly to obey him, but turned back and caught his hand and +whispered, "You won't let them hurt him, Richard?" and then ran up the +stairs. No doubt Richard thought I went to my own room; but I spent the +next hour on the landing-place, looking down into the hall. + +It was rather a serious matter, getting Mr. Langenau even into the +library, and it was well they had not attempted his own room. Patrick +was called, and with his assistance and Richard's, he began to move +across the hall. But half-way to the library-door, he fainted dead away, +and Richard carried him and laid him on the bed, Patrick being worse +than useless, having lost his head, and the Doctor being a small man, +and only strong in science. + +Pretty soon the library-door closed, and Sophie and Charlotte were +excluded. They walked about the hall, talking in low tones, and looking +anxious. Later, there came groaning from within the closed door, and +Charlotte Benson wrung her hands and listened. The groans continued for +a long while: the misery of hearing them! After a while they ceased: +then Richard opened the door, hastily, it seemed, and called "Sophie." + +Sophie ran forward, and the door closed again. There was a long silence, +time enough for those who were outside to imagine all manner of horrid +possibilities. Then the Doctor and Richard came out. + +"How is he, Doctor?" said Charlotte Benson, bravely, going to meet them, +while I hung trembling over the landing-place. + +"Oh better, better, very comfortable," said the Doctor, in his calm +professional tone. + +I could not help thinking those groans had not denoted a very high state +of comfort; but maybe the Doctor knew best how people with dislocated +shoulders and broken ribs are apt to express their sentiments of +satisfaction. + +I listened with more than interest to their plans for the night: the +Doctor was going away at once; two of the servants and Patrick were to +relieve each other in sitting by him, while Richard was to throw himself +on the sofa in the hall, to be at hand if anything were needed. + +"Which means, that you are to be awake all night," said Charlotte +Benson. "You have more need of rest than we. Let Sophie and me take +your place." + +Richard looked gratefully and kindly at her, but refused. The Doctor +assured them again that there was no reason for anxiety; that Richard +would probably be undisturbed all night; that he himself would come +early in the morning. Then Richard came toward the stairs, and I escaped +to my own room. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS. + + The fiend whose lantern lights the mead, + Were better mate than I! + + _Scott_. + + Fools, when they cannot see their way, + At once grow desperate, + Have no resource--have nothing to propose-- + But fix a dull eye of dismay + Upon the final close. + Success to the stout heart, say I, + That sees its fate, and can defy! + + _Faust_. + + +Two weeks later, and things had not stood still; they rarely do, when +there is so much at hand, and ripe for mischief; seventeen does not take +up the practice of wisdom voluntarily. I do not think I was very +different from other girls of seventeen, and I cannot blame myself very +much that I spent all these days in a dream of bliss and folly; how +could it have been otherwise, situated exactly as we were? This is the +way our days were passed. Mr. Langenau was better, but still not able to +leave his room. He was the hero, as a matter of course, and little +besides his sufferings, his condition, and his prospects, was talked of +at the table; which had the effect of making Kilian stay away two nights +out of three, and of alienating Richard altogether. Richard went to town +on Monday morning after the accident occurred, and it was now Friday of +the following week, and he had not come back. + +It was a little dull for Mary Leighton and for Henrietta, perhaps; +possibly for Charlotte Benson, but she did not seem to mind it much; and +I had never found R---- so enchanting as that fortnight. Charlotte +Benson liked to be Florence Nightingale in little, it was very plain; +and naturally nothing made me so happy as to be permitted to minister to +the wants of the (it must be confessed) frequently unreasonable +sufferer. For the first few days, while he was confined to his bed, of +course Charlotte and I were obliged to content ourselves with the +sending of messages, the arranging of bouquets, the concocting of soups +and jellies, and all the other coddling processes at our command. But +when Mr. Langenau was able to sit up, Sophie (at the instance of +Charlotte Benson, for she seemed to have renounced diplomacy herself,) +arranged that the bed should be taken away during the daytime, and +brought back again at night, and that Mr. Langenau should lie on the +sofa through the day. This made it possible for us to be in the room, +even without Sophie, though we began to think her presence necessary. +That scruple was soon done away with, for it laid too great a tax on +her, and restricted our attentions very much. The result was, we passed +nearly the whole day beside him; Mary Leighton and Henrietta very often +of the party, and Sophie occasionally looking in upon us. Sometimes when +Charlotte Benson, as ranking officer, decreed that the patient needed +rest, we took our books and work and went to the piazza, outside the +window of his room. + +He would have been very tired of us, if he had not been very much in +love with one of us. As it was, it must have been a kind of fool's +paradise in which he lived, five pretty women fluttering about him, +offering the prettiest homage, and one of them the woman for whom, +wisely or foolishly, rightly or wrongly, he had conceived so violent +a passion. + +As soon as he was out of pain and began to recover the tone of his +nerves at all, I saw that he wanted me beside him more than ever, and +that Charlotte Benson, with all her skill and cleverness, was as nothing +to him in comparison. No doubt he dissembled this with care; and was +very graceful and very grateful and infinitely interesting. His moods +were very varying, however; sometimes he seemed struggling with the most +unconquerable depression, then we were all so sorry for him; sometimes +he was excited and brilliant; then we were all thrilled with admiration. +And not unfrequently he was irritable and quite morose and sullen. And +then we pitied, and admired, and feared him _à la fois_. I am sure no +man more fitted to command the love and admiration of women ever lived. + +Charlotte Benson with great self-devotion had insisted upon teaching the +children for two hours every day, so that Mr. Langenau might not be +annoyed at the thought that they were losing time, and that Sophie might +not be inconvenienced. It was the least that she could do, she reasoned, +after the many lessons that Mr. Langenau had given us, with so much +kindness, and without accepting a return. Henrietta volunteered for the +service, also, and from eleven to one every day the boys were caught and +caged, and made to drink at the fountain of learning; or rather to +approach that fountain, of which forty Charlottes and Henriettas could +not have made them drink. + +At that time Charlotte always decreed that Mr. Langenau should lie on +the sofa and go to sleep. The windows were darkened, and the room was +cleared of visitors. On this Friday morning, nearly two weeks after the +accident, as I was following Sophie from the room (Charlotte having gone +with Henrietta to capture the children), Mr. Langenau called after me +rather imperiously, "Miss d'Estrée--Miss Pauline--" + +It had been a stormy session, and I turned back with misgivings. Sophie +shrugged her shoulders and went away toward the dining-room. + +"What are you going away for, may I ask?" he said, as I appeared before +him humbly. + +"Why, you know you ought to lie down and to rest," I tried to say with +discretion, but it was all one what I said: it would have irritated him +just the same. + +"I am rather tired of this surveillance," he exclaimed. "It is almost +time I should be permitted to express a wish about the disposition of +myself. As I do not happen to want to go to sleep, I beg I may be +allowed the pleasure of your society for a little while." + +"I don't think it would give you much pleasure, and you know you don't +feel as well to-day." + +"Again, may I be permitted to judge how I feel myself?" + +"Oh, yes, of course, but--" + +"But what, Miss d'Estrée?--No doubt you want to go yourself--I am sorry +I thought of detaining you (with a gesture of dismissal). I beg you to +excuse me, A sick man is apt to be unreasonable." + +"Oh, as to that, you know entirely well I do not want to go. You are +unreasonable, indeed, when you talk as you do now. I only went away for +your benefit." + +"_Qui s'excuse, s'accuse_." + +"But I am not excusing myself; and if you put it so I will go away at +once." + +"_Si vous voulez_--" + +"But I don't '_voulez_'--Oh, how disagreeable you can be." + +"You will stay?" + +"Pauline!" called Sophie from across the hall. + +"There!" I exclaimed, interpreting it as the voice of conscience. I left +my work-basket and book upon the table, and went out of the room. + +"You called me?" I said, following her into the parlor, where, shutting +the door, she motioned me to a seat beside her. She had a slip of paper +and an envelope in her hand, and seemed a little ill at ease. + +"I've just had a telegram from Richard," she said. "He's coming home +to-night by the eleven o'clock train. It's so odd altogether. I don't +know why he's coming. But you may as well read his message yourself," +she said with a forced manner, handing me the paper. It was as follows: + +Send carriage for me to eleven-thirty train to-night. Remember my +injunctions, our last conversation, and your promises." + +"Well?" I said, looking up, bewildered and not violently interested, for +I was secretly listening to the quick shutting of the library-door. + +"Why, you see," she returned, with a forced air of confidence that made +me involuntarily shrink from her; I think she even laid her hand upon my +sleeve, or made some gesture of familiarity which was unusual-- + +"You see, that last conversation was--about you. Richard is annoyed +at--at your intimacy with Mr. Langenau. You know just as well as I do +how he feels, for no doubt he's spoken to you himself." + +"He never has," I said, quite shortly. + +"No?" and she looked rather chagrined. "Well--but at all events you know +how he feels. Girls ar'nt slow generally to find out about those things. +And he is really very unhappy about it, very. I wish, Pauline, you'd +give it up, child. It's gone quite far enough; now don't you think so +yourself? Mr. Langenau isn't the sort of man to be serious about, you +know. It's all very well, just for a summer's amusement. But, you know, +you mustn't go too far. I'm sure, dear, you're not angry with me: now +you understand just what I mean, don't you?" + +No: not angry, certainly not angry. She went on, still with the +impertinent touch upon my arm: "Richard made me promise that I would +look after you, and not permit things to go too far. And you +see--well--I'll tell you in confidence what I think his coming to-night +means, and his message and all. I think--that is, I am afraid--he's +found out something against Mr. Langenau since he's been away. I know he +never has felt confidence in him. But I've always thought, perhaps that +was because he was--well--a little jealous and suspicious. You know men +are so apt to be suspicious; and I was sure, when he went away that last +Monday morning, that he would not leave a stone unturned in finding out +everything about him. It is that that's kept him, I am sure. Don't let +that make you feel hardly toward Richard," she went on, noticing perhaps +my look; "you know it's only natural, and besides, it's right. How would +he answer to your uncle?" + +"It is I who should answer to my uncle," I returned, under my breath. + +"Yes, but you are in our house, in our care. You know, my dear child, +you are very young and very inexperienced; you don't know how very +careful people have to be." + +"Why don't you talk that way to Charlotte and Henrietta and Mary +Leighton? Have I done anything so very different from them?" I answered, +with a blaze of spirit. + +"No, dear," she said, with a little laugh, "only there are one or two +men very much in love with you, and that makes everything so different." + +I blushed scarlet, and was silenced instantly, as she intended. + +"Now, maybe I am mistaken about his having discovered something," she +went on, "but I can't make anything else out of Richard's message. He is +not one to send off such a despatch without a reason. Evidently he is +very uneasy; and I thought it was best to be perfectly frank with you, +dear, and I know you'll do me the justice to say I have been, if Richard +ever says anything to you about it. You mustn't blame me, you know, for +the way he feels. I wish the whole thing was at an end," she said, with +the first touch of sincerity. "And now promise me one thing," with +another caressing movement of the hand, "Promise me, you won't go into +the library again till Richard comes, and we hear what he has to say. +Just for my sake, you know, my dear, for you see he would blame me if I +did not keep a strict surveillance. You won't mind doing that, I'm +sure, for me?" + +"I shall not promise anything," I returned, getting up, "but I am not +likely to go near the library after what you've said." + +"That's a good child," she said, evidently much relieved, and thinking +that the affair was very near its end. I opened the door, and she added: +"Now go up-stairs, and rest yourself, for you look as if you had a +headache, and don't think of anything that's disagreeable." That was a +good prescription, but I did not take it. + +Of course, I did not go near the library; that was understood. After +dinner, the servant brought in Mr. Langenau's tray untouched, and +Charlotte Benson started up, and ran in to see what was the matter. +Sophie went too, looking a little troubled. I think they were both +snubbed: for ten minutes after, when I met Charlotte in the hall, she +had an unusual flush upon her cheek, and Sophie I found standing at one +of the parlor-windows, biting her lip, and tapping impatiently upon the +carpet. Evidently the affair was not as near its placid end as she had +hoped. She started a little when she saw me, and tried to look +unruffled. + +"How sultry it is this afternoon!" she said. "Are you going up to your +room to take a rest? stop in my room on your way, I want to show you +those embroideries that I was telling Charlotte Benson of last night." + +"I did not hear you, and I do not know anything about them," I said, +feeling not at all affectionate. + +"No? Oh, I forgot: it was while you and Henrietta were sitting in the +library, and Charlotte and I were walking up and down the piazza while +it rained. Why, they are some heavenly sets that I got this spring from +Paris--Marshall picked them up one day at the _Bon Marché_--and verily +they are _bon marché_. I never saw anything so cheap, and I was telling +Charlotte that some of you might just as well have part of them, for I +never could use the half. Come up and look them over." + +Now I loved "heavenly sets" as well as most women, but dress was not the +bait for me at that moment. So I said my head ached and I could not look +at them then, if she'd excuse me; and I went silently away to my room, +not caring at all if she were pleased or not. I disliked and distrusted +her more and more every moment, and she seemed to me so mean: for I knew +all her worry came from the apprehension of what she might have to fear +from Richard, not the thought of the suffering that he or that any one +else endured. + +It was a long afternoon, but it reached its end, after the manner of +all afternoons on record, even those of Marianna. When I came +down-stairs they were all at tea and Kilian had arrived. A more +enlivening atmosphere prevailed, and the invalid was not discussed. A +drive was being canvassed. There was an early moon, and Kilian proposed +driving Tom and Jerry before the open wagon, which would carry four, +through the valley-road, to be back by half-past nine or ten o'clock. + +"But what am I to do," cried Kilian, "when there are five angels, and I +have only room for three?" + +"Why, two will have to stay at home, according to my arithmetic," said +Charlotte, good-naturedly, "and I've no doubt I shall be remainder." + +"If you stay, I shall stay with you," said Henrietta, dropping the +metaphor, for metaphors, even the mildest, were beyond her reach +of mind. + +Everybody wanted to stay, and everybody tried to be quite firm; but as +no one's firmness but mine was based on inclination, the result was that +Sophie and I were "remainder," and Mary Leighton, Charlotte, and +Henrietta drove away with Kilian quite jauntily, at half-past seven +o'clock. But before she went, Charlotte, who was really good-natured +with all her sharpness and self-will, went into the library to speak to +Mr. Langenau, and to show she did not resent the noonday slight, +whatever that had been. But presently she came back looking rather +anxious, and said to Sophie, ignoring me (whom she always did ignore if +possible), + +"Do go and see what you can do for Mr. Langenau. He is really very far +from well. His tea stands there, and he hasn't taken anything to eat. He +looks feverish and excited, and I truly think he ought to see the +Doctor. You know he promised the Doctor to stay in his room, and keep +still all the rest of the week. But I am sure he means to come out +to-morrow, and he even talks of going down to town. It will kill him if +he does; I'm sure he's doing badly, and I wish you'd go and see to him." + +"Does he know Richard is coming up to-night?" asked Sophie, _sotto +voce_, but with affected carelessness. + +"I do not know; oh yes, he does, I mentioned it to him at dinner-time, I +remember now." + +"Well, I'll see if I can do anything for him; now go, they're waiting +for you. Have a pleasant time." + +After they were gone, Sophie went into the library, but she did not stay +very long. She came and sat beside me on the river-balcony, and talked a +little, desultorily and absent-mindedly. + +Presently there was a call for "mamma," a hubbub and a hurry--soon +explained. Charley, who had been running wild for the last two weeks, +without tutor or uncle to control him, had just fallen from the mow, and +hurt himself somewhat, and frightened himself much more. The whole house +was in a ferment. He was taken to mamma's room, for he was a great baby +when anything was the matter with him, and would not let mamma move an +inch away from him. After assisting to the best of my ability in making +him comfortable, and seeing myself only in the way, I went down-stairs +again, and took my seat upon the balcony that overlooked the river. + +The young moon was shining faintly, and the air was soft and balmy. The +house was very still; the servants, I think, were all in a distant part +of the house, or out enjoying the moonlight and the idleness of evening. +Sophie was nailed to Charley's bed up-stairs, trying to soothe him; +Benny was sinking to sleep in his little crib. It seemed like an +enchanted palace, and when I heard a step crossing the parlor, it made +me start with a vague feeling of alarm. The parlor-window by me, which +opened to the floor, was not closed, and in another moment some one came +out and stood beside me. It was Mr. Langenau. I started up and +exclaimed, "Mr. Langenau, how imprudent! Oh, go back at once." + +He seemed weak, and his hand shook as he leaned against the casement, +but his eyes were glittering with a feverish excitement. He did not +answer. I went on: "The Doctor forbade your coming out for several days +yet--and the exertion and the night-air--oh, I beg you to go back." + +"Alone?" he said in a low voice. + +"No, oh no, I will go with you. Anything, only do not stay here a moment +longer; come." And taking his hand (and how burning hot it was!) and +drawing it through my arm, I started toward the hall. He had to lean on +me, for the unusual exertion seemed to have annihilated all his +strength. When we reached the library, I led him to a chair--a large and +low and easy one, and he sank down in it. + +"You are not going away?" he asked, as he gasped for breath, "For there +is something that must be said to-night." + +"No, I will not go," I answered, frightened to see him so, and agitated +by a thousand feelings. "I will light the lamp, and read to you. Let me +move your chair back from the window." + +"No, you must not light the lamp; I like the moonlight better. Bring +your chair and sit here by me--here." He leaned and half-pulled toward +him the companion to the chair on which he sat, a low, soft, easy one. + +I sat down in it, sitting so I nearly faced him. The moon was shining +in at the one wide window: I can remember exactly the pattern that the +vine-leaves made as the moonlight fell through them on the carpet at our +feet. I had a bunch of verbena-leaves fastened in my dress, and I never +smell verbena-leaves at any time or place without seeing before me that +moon-traced pattern and that wide-open window. + +"Pauline," he said, in that low, thrilling voice, leaning a little +toward me, "I have a great deal to say to you to-night. I have a great +wrong to ask pardon for--a great sorrow to tell you of. I shall never +call you Pauline again as I call you to-night. I shall never look into +your eyes again, I shall never touch your hand. For we must part, +Pauline; and this hour, which heaven has given me, is the last that we +shall spend together on the earth." + +I truly thought that his fever had produced delirium, and, trying to +conceal my alarm, I said, with an attempt to quiet him, "Oh, do not say +such things; we shall see each other a great, great many times, I hope, +and have many more hours together." + +"No, Pauline, you do not know so well as I of what I speak. This is no +delirium; would to heaven, it were, and I might wake up from it. No, the +parting must be said to-night, and I must be the one to speak it. We +may spend days, perhaps, under the same roof--we may even sit at the +same table once again; but, I repeat, from this day I may never look +into your eyes again, I may never touch your hand. Pauline, can you +forgive me? I know that you can love. Merciful Heaven! who so well as I, +who have held your stainless heart in my stained hand these many dreamy +weeks; and Justice has not struck me dead. Yes, Pauline, I know you've +loved me; but remember this one thing, in all your bitter thoughts of me +hereafter: remember this, you have not loved me as I have loved you. You +have not given up earth and heaven both for me as I have done for you. +For you? No, not for you, but for the shadow of you, for the thought of +you, for these short weeks of you. And then, an eternity of absence, and +of remorse, and of oblivion--ah, if it might be oblivion for you! If I +could blot out of your life this short, blighting summer; if I could put +you back to where you were that fresh, sweet morning that I walked with +you beside the river! I loved you from that day, Pauline, and I drugged +my conscience, and refused to heed that I was doing you a wrong in +teaching you to love me. Pauline, I have to tell you a sad story: you +will have to go back with me very far; you will have to hear of sins of +which you never dreamed in your dear innocence. I would spare you if I +could, but you must know, for you must forgive me. And when you have +heard, you may cease to love, but I think you will forgive. Listen." + +Why should I repeat that terrible disclosure? why harrow my soul with +going back over that dark path? Let me try to forget that such sins, +such wrongs, such revenges, ever stained a human life. I was so young, +so innocent, so ignorant. It was a strange misfortune that I should have +had to know that which aged and changed me so. But he was right in +saying that I had to know it. My life was bound involuntarily to his by +my love, and what concerned him was my fate. Alas! He was in no other +way bound to me than by my love: nor ever could be. + +I don't know whether I was prepared for it or not: I knew that something +terrible and final was to come, and I felt the awe that attends the +thoughts that words are final and time limited. But when I heard the +fatal truth--that another woman lived to whom he was irrevocably +bound--I heard it as in a dream, and did not move or speak. I think I +felt for a moment as if I were dead, as if I had passed out of the ranks +of the living into the abodes of the silent, and benumbed, and +pulseless. There was such a horrible awe, and chill, and check through +all my young and rapid blood. It was like death by freezing. It is not +so pleasant as they say, believe me. But no pain: that came afterward, +when I came to life, when I felt the touch of his hand on mine, and +ceased to hear his cruel words. + +I had shrunk back from him in my chair, and sat, I suppose, like a +person in a trance, with my hands in my lap, and my eyes fixed on him +with bewilderment. But when he ceased to speak--and, leaning forward on +one knee, clasped my hands in his, and drew me toward him, then indeed I +knew I was not dead. Oh, the agony of those few moments--I tried to +rise, to go away from him. But he held me with such strength--all his +weakness was gone now. He folded his arms around my waist and held me as +in a vise. Then suddenly leaning his head down upon my arms, he kissed +my hands, my arms, my dress, with a moan of bitter anguish. + +"Not mine," he murmured. "Never mine but in my dreams. O wretched +dreams, that drive me mad. Pauline, they will tell us that we must not +dream--we must not weep, we must be stocks and stones. We must wear this +weight of living death till that good Lord that makes such laws shall +send us death in mercy. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years of suffering: +that might almost satisfy Him, one would think. Pauline! you and I are +to say good-bye to-night. Good-bye! People talk of it as a cruel word. +Think of it: if it were but for a year, a year with hope at the end of +it to keep our hearts alive, it would be terrible, and we should need be +brave. The tears that lovers shed over a year apart; the days that have +got to come and go, how weary. The nights--the nights that sleep flies +off from, and that memory reigns over. Count them--over three hundred +come in every year. One, you think while it is passing, is enough to +kill you: one such night of restless torture, and how many shall we +multiply our three hundred by? We are young, Pauline. You are a child, a +very child. I am in the very flush and strength of manhood. There is +half a century of suffering in me yet: this frame, this brain, will +stand the wear of the hard years to come but too, too well. There is no +hope of death. There is no hope in life. That star has set. Good God! +And that makes hell--why should I wait for it--it cannot be worse there +than here. Don't listen to me--it will not be as hard for you--you are +so young--you have no sins to torture you--only a little love to conquer +and forget. You will marry a man who lives for you, and who is patient +and will wait till this is over. Ah, no: by Heaven! I can't quite stand +it yet. Pauline, you never loved him, did you--never blushed for +him--never listened for his coming with your lips apart and your heart +fluttering, as I have seen you listen when you thought that I was +coming? No, I know you never loved him: I know you have loved me +alone--me--who ought to have forbidden you. Forgive--forgive--forgive +me." + +A passion of tears had come to my relief, and I shook from head to foot +with sobs. I cannot feel ashamed when I remember that he held me for one +moment in his arms. He had been to me till that shock, strength, truth, +justice: _the man I loved_. How could I in one instant know him by his +sin alone, and undo all my trust? I knew only this, that it was for the +last time, and that my heart was broken. + +I forgave him--that was an idle form; in my great love I never felt that +there was anything to be forgiven, except the wrong that fate had done +me, in making my love so hopeless. He told me to forget him; that seemed +to me as idle; but all his words were precious, and all my soul was in +his hand. When, at that moment, the sound of wheels upon the gravel +came, and the sound of laughter and of voices, I sprang up; he caught me +in his arms and held me closely. Another moment, the parting was over, +and I was kneeling by my bed up-stairs, weeping, sobbing, hopeless. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME. + + Into my chamber brightly + Came the early sun's good-morrow; + On my restless bed, unsightly, + I sat up in my sorrow. + + _Faust._ + + +It is an amazing thing, the strength and power of pride. Pride, and the +law of self-respect and self-preservation in our being, is the force +that holds us in our course. When we reflect upon it, how few of all the +myriads fly out from it and are lost. That I ate my meals; that I +dressed myself with care; that I took walks and drives: that I did not +avoid my companions, and listened patiently to what they chose to say: +these were the evidences of that centripetal law within that was keeping +me from destruction. It would be difficult to imagine a person more +unhappy. Undisciplined and unfortified by the knowledge that +disappointment is an integral part of all lives, there had suddenly come +upon me a disappointment the most total. It covered everything; there +was not a flicker of hope or palliation. And I had no idea where to go +to make myself another hope, or in what course lay palliation. As we +have prepared ourselves or have been prepared, so is the issue of our +temptations. My great temptation came upon me, foolish, ignorant, +unprepared: the wonder would have been if I had resisted it to my +own credit. + +The days went on as usual at R----, and I must hold my place among the +careless daughters and not let them see my trouble. Careless daughters, +indeed they were, and I shuddered at the thought of their cold eyes: no +doubt their eyes, bright as well as cold, saw that something was amiss +with me; with all my bravery, I could not keep the signs of wretchedness +out of my pale face. But they never knew the story, and they could only +guess at what made me wretched. It is amazing (again) what power there +is in silence, and how much you can keep in your hands if you do not +open them. People may surmise--may invent, but they cannot know your +secret unless you tell it to them, and their imaginings take so many +forms, the multitude of things that they create blot out all definite +design. Thus every one at R---- had a different theory about my loss of +spirits and the relapse of Mr. Langenau, but no one ever knew what +passed that night. + +Richard came. He was closeted with Sophie until after midnight, but I +do not think he told her anything that she desired to know. I think he +only tried to find out from her what had passed (and she did not know +that I had been in the library since she spoke to me). If Mr. Langenau +had been well, I have no doubt that it was his design to have dismissed +him on the following day, no matter at what hazard. How much he knew I +cannot tell, but enough to have warranted him in doing that, perhaps. He +probably would have put it in Mr. Langenau's power to have gone without +any coloring put upon his going that would have affected his standing in +the household. This was his design, no doubt; otherwise he would have +told his sister all. His delicate consideration for me made him guard as +sacred the fact that I had wasted my hope and love so cruelly. + +He was not going away again, I soon found; _qui va à la chasse perd sa +place_. He had lost his place, but he would stay and guard me all the +same; and the chase for gold seemed given up for good and all. + +Kilian was in constant surprise, and made out many catechisms, but he +got little satisfaction. + +Richard was going to have a few weeks' "rest," unless something should +occur to call him back to town. + +He sought no interview with me, was kind and silent, but his eye was +never off me. I think he watched his opportunity for saying what he had +to say to Mr. Langenau, but such an opportunity seemed destined not +to come. + +Mr. Langenau was ill the day after Richard came home--quite ill enough +to cause alarm. He had a high fever, and the Doctor even seemed uneasy, +and prescribed the profoundest quiet. After a day or two, however, he +improved, and all danger seemed averted. + +As soon as he was strong enough, he was to be removed to his own room +above, for the sake of quiet, and to release the household from its +enforced tranquillity. + +All these particulars I heard at table, or from morning groups on the +piazza: with stony cheeks, and eyes that looked unflinchingly into all +curious faces: so works the law of self-defence. + +All but Richard, I am sure, were staggered, but he read with his heart. + +I never blushed now, I never faltered, I never said a word I did not +mean to say. It was a struggle for life: though I did not value the +life, and should have found it hard to say why I did not give up and +let them see that I was killed. + +But I kept wondering how I should sustain myself if I should be called +upon to meet him once again. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +GUARDED. + + Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely, + I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only + Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received. + + _Felix Arvers_. + + Duty to God is duty to her; I think + God, who created her, will save her too + Some new way, by one miracle the more + Without me. Then, prayer may avail, perhaps. + + _R. Browning_. + + +"Mr. Langenau is coming down to-day," said Charlotte Benson in a +stage-whisper, as we took our places at the table, a week after this. "I +met him in the hall about an hour ago, looking like a ghost, and he told +me he was coming down to dinner." + +"_Vraiment_," said Sophie, looking a little disconcerted. "Well, he +shall have Charley's place. Charley isn't coming." + +"I hope he's in a better temper than that last day we saw him," said +Henrietta. + +"Poor fellow!" said Charlotte, "that was the day before the fever began. +It was coming on: that was the reason of it all, no doubt. He looks +ghastly enough now. You'll forgive all, the moment that you see him." + +Charlotte had forgiven him herself, though she had never resumed the +role of Florence Nightingale. Since he had given up the library and +removed to his own room, he had been quite lost to all, and nobody +seemed to have gone near him, not even Sophie, who would have been glad +to forget that he existed, without doubt. + +Richard's eyes were on me as Charlotte said "Hush!" and a step crossed +the hall in the pause that ensued. Kilian, sitting next me, began to +talk to me at that moment, the moment that Mr. Langenau entered the +room. And I think I answered quite coherently: though two sets of words +were going through my brain, the answer to his commonplace question, and +the words that Mr. Langenau had said that night, "Pauline, I shall never +look into your eyes again, I shall never touch your hand." + +It seemed to me an even chance which sentence saw the day; but as the +walls did not fall down about me and no face looked amazement, I found I +must have answered Kilian's question with propriety. + +There were many voices speaking at once; but there was such a ringing in +my ears, I could not distinguish who spoke, or what was said: for a +moment I was lost, if any one had taken advantage of it. But gradually +I regained my senses: one after another they each took up their guard +again: and I looked up. And met his eyes? No; but let mine rest upon his +face. And then I found I had not measured my temptation, and that there +was something to do besides defending myself from others' eyes. For +there was to defend myself from my own heart. The passion of pity and +tenderness that rushed over me as my eyes fell on his haggard face, so +strong and yet so wan, swept away for the moment the defences against +the public gaze. I could have fallen down at his feet before them all +and told him that I loved him. + +A few moments more of the sound of commonplace words, and the repulsion +of every-day faces and expressions, swept me back into the circle of +conventionalities, and brought me under the force of that current that +keeps us from high tragedy. + +All during the meal Mr. Langenau was grave and silent, speaking little +and then with effort. He had overrated his strength, perhaps, for he +went away before the end of the dinner, asking to be excused, in a tone +almost inaudible. After he had gone, a good many commentaries were +offered. Kilian seemed to express the sense of the assembly when he +said: "The man looks shockingly, and he's not out of the woods yet." + +Sophie looked troubled: she had some compunctions for the neglect of the +last few days, perhaps. + +"What does the Doctor say?" pursued her brother. + +"Nothing, I suppose--for he hasn't been here for a week, almost." + +"Well, then, you'd better send for him, if you don't want the fellow to +die on your hands. He's not fit to be out of bed, and you'll have +trouble if you don't look out." + +"As if I hadn't had trouble," returned his sister, almost peevishly. + +"Well, I beg your pardon, Sophie. But I fancied you and Miss Charlotte +were in charge; and I thought about ten days ago, your patient was in a +fair way to be killed with kindness, and it's a little of a surprise to +me to find he's being let alone so very systematically." + +"Why, to tell you the truth," cried Charlotte Benson, "we were turned +out of office without much ceremony, one fine day after dinner. I am +quite willing to be forgiving; but I don't think you can ask me to put +myself in the way of being snubbed again to that extent." + +"The ungrateful varlet! what did he complain of? Hadn't he been coddled +enough to please him? Did he want four or five more women dancing +attendance on him?" + +"Oh, it was not want of attention he complained of. In fact," said +Charlotte, coloring, "It was that he didn't like quite so much, and +wanted to be allowed more liberty." + +Kilian indulged in a good laugh, which wasn't quite fair, considering +Charlotte's candor. + +"But the truth is," said Charlotte, uneasily, "that he was too ill, that +day, to be responsible for what he said. He was just coming down with +the fever, and, you know, people are always most unreasonable then." + +"I'm very glad I never gave him a chance to dispense with me," said Mary +Leighton, with a view to making herself amiable in Kilian's eyes. + +"I think he dispensed with you early in the season," said Charlotte, +sharply. "Oh, hast thou forgotten that walk that he took, upon your +invitation? Ah, Miss Leighton, his look was quite dramatic. I know you +never have forgiven him." + +"I haven't the least idea what you are talking of," returned Mary +Leighton, with bewildered and child-like simplicity. + +"Ah, then it was not as unique an occurrence as I hoped," said +Charlotte, viciously. "I imagined it would make more of an impression." + +"Charlotte," interrupted Sophie, shocked at this open impoliteness, "I +hope you are forgiving enough to break it to him that he's got to see +the Doctor; for if he comes unexpectedly and goes up to his room, he +will be dramatic, and that is so unpleasant, as we know to our sorrow." + +"Indeed, I shan't tell him," cried Charlotte, "you can take your life in +your hand, and try it if you please; but I cannot consent to risk +myself. There's Mary Leighton, she bears no malice. Perhaps she'll go +with you as support." + +"Ha, ha!" cried Kilian. "Richard, you and I may be called on to bring up +the rear. There's the General's old sword in the hall, and I'll take the +Joe Manton from the shelf in the library." + +"Richard looks as if he disapproved of us all very much," said Sophie, +and in truth Richard did look just so. He did not even answer these +suggestions, but began after a moment to talk to Henrietta on +indifferent matters. + +It was on this afternoon that a new policy was inaugurated at R----. We +were taught to feel that we had been quite aggrieved by the dullness of +the past two weeks or more, and that we must be compensated by some +refreshing novelties. + +Richard was at the head of the movement--Richard with his sober cares +and weary look. But the incongruity struck no one; they were too glad to +be amused. Even Sophie brightened up. Charlotte was ready to throw her +energies into any active scheme, hospital or picnic, charity-school or +kettle-drum. + +"To-morrow will be just the sort of day for it," said Richard, "cool and +fine. And half the pleasure of a picnic is not having time to get tired +of it beforehand." + +"That's very true," said Charlotte; "but I don't see how we're going to +get everybody notified and everything in order for nine o'clock +to-morrow morning." + +"Nothing easier," said Kilian; "we'll go, directly after tea, to the De +Witts and Prentices, and send Thomas with a note to the Lowders. Sophie +has done her part in shorter time than that, very often; and I don't +believe we should be starved, if she only gave half an hour's notice to +the cook." + +What is heavier than pleasure-seeking in which one has no pleasure? I +shall never forget the misery of those plans and that bustle. I dared +not absent myself, and I could scarcely carry out my part for very +heavy-heartedness. It seemed to me that I could not bear it, if the hour +came, and I should have to drive away with all that merry party, and +leave poor Mr. Langenau for a long, long day alone. + +I felt sure something would occur to release me: it could not be that I +should have to go. With the exaggeration of youth, it seemed to me an +impossibility that I could endure anything so grievous. How I hated all +the careless, thoughtless, happy household! Only Richard, enemy as he +was to my happiness, seemed endurable to me. For Richard was not +merry-making in his heart, and I was sure he was sorry for me all the +time he was trying to oppose me. + +Mr. Langenau was again in the Doctor's care, who came that evening, and +who said to Richard, in my hearing, he must be kept quiet; he didn't +altogether like his symptoms. + +Richard had his hands full, with great matters and small. Sophie had +washed hers of the invalid; there had been some sharpish words between +the sister and brother on the matter, I imagine, and the result was, +Richard was the only one who did or would do anything for his comfort +and safety. + +That day, after appearing at dinner, he came no more. I watched with +feverish anxiety every step, every sound; but he came not. I knew that +the Doctor's admonitions would not have much weight, nor yet Richard's +opinion. I had the feeling that if he would only speak to me, only look +at me once, it would ease that horrible oppression and pain which I was +suffering. The agony I was enduring was so intolerable, and its real +relief so impossible, like a child I caught at some fancied palliation, +and craved only that. What would one look, one word be--out of a +lifetime of silence and separation. + +No matter: it was what I raged and died for, just one look, just one +word more. He had said he would never look into my eyes again: that +haunted me and made me superstitious. I would _make_ him look at me. I +would seize his hand and kneel before him, and tell him I should die if +he did not speak to me once more. Once more! Just once, out of years, +out of forever. I had thrown duty, conscience, thought to the winds. I +had but one fear--that we should be finally separated without that word +spoken, that look exchanged. I said to myself again and again, I shall +die, if I cannot speak to him again. Beyond that I did not look. What +better I should be after that speaking I did not care. I only longed and +looked for that as a relief from the insufferable agony of my fate. One +cannot take in infinite wretchedness: it is our nature to make dates and +periods to our sorrows in our imagination. + +And so that horrid afternoon and evening passed, amid the racket and +babel of visitors and visiting. I followed almost blindly, and did as +the others did. The next morning dawned bright and cold. What a day for +summer! The sun was brilliant, but the wind came from over icebergs; it +seemed like "winter painted green." + +We were to start at nine o'clock. I was ready early, waiting on the +piazza for the aid to fate that was to keep me from the punishment of +going. No human being had spoken his name that morning. How should I +know whether he were still so ill or no. + +The hour for starting had arrived. Richard, who never kept long out of +sight of me, was busy loading the wagon that was to accompany us, with +baskets of things to eat, and with wines and fruits. Kilian was +engrossed in arranging the seats and cushions in the two carriages which +had just driven to the door. + +Mary Leighton was fluttering about the flower-bed at the left of the +piazza, making herself lovely with geranium and roses. Sophie, in a +beautiful costume, was pacifying Charley, who had had a difference with +his uncle Kilian. Charlotte and Henrietta were busy in their small way +over a little basket of preserves; and two or three of the neighboring +gentlemen, who were to drive with us, were approaching the house by a +side-entrance. + +In a moment or two we should be ready to be off. What should I do? I was +frantic with the thought that he might be worse, he might go away. I +was to be absent such a length of time. I must--I would see him before +we went. What better moment than the present, when everybody was engaged +in this fretting, foolish picnic. I would run up-stairs--call to him +outside his door--make him speak to me. + +With a guilty look around, I started up, stole through the group on the +piazza, and ran to the stairs. But alas, Richard had not failed to mark +my movements, and before my foot had touched the stair his voice +recalled me. I started with a guilty look, and trembled, but dared not +meet his eye. + +"Pauline, are you going away? We are just ready start." + +If I had had any presence of mind I should have made an excuse, and gone +to my own room for a moment, and taken my chance of getting to the floor +above; but I suppose he would have forestalled me. I could not command a +single word, but turned back and followed him. As we got into the +carriage, the voices and the laughing really seemed to madden me. +Driving away from the house, I never shall forget the sensation of +growing heaviness at my heart; it seemed to be turning into lead. I +glanced back at the closed windows of his room and wondered if he saw +us, and if he thought that I was happy. + +The length of that day! The glare of that sun! The chill of that +unnatural wind! Every moment seemed to me an hour. I can remember with +such distinctness the whole day, each thing as it happened; +conversations which seemed so senseless, preparations which seemed so +endless. The taste of the things I tried to eat: the smell of the grass +on which we sat, and the pine-trees above our heads: the sound of fire +blazing under the teakettle, and the pained sensation of my eyes when +the smoke blew across into our faces: the hateful vibration of Mary +Leighton's laugh: all these things are unnaturally vivid to me at +this day. + +I don't know what the condition of my brain must have been, to have +received such an exaggerated impression of unimportant things. + +"What can I do for you, Miss Pauline?" said Kilian, throwing himself +down on the grass at my feet. I could not sit down for very impatience, +but was walking restlessly about, and was now standing for a moment by a +great tree under which the table had been spread. It was four o'clock, +and there was only vague talk of going home; the horses had not yet been +brought up, the baskets were not a quarter packed. Every one was +indolent, and a good deal tired; the gentlemen were smoking, and no one +seemed in a hurry. + +When Kilian said, "What can I do for you. Miss Pauline?" I could not +help saying, "Take me home." + +"Home!" cried Kilian. "Here is somebody talking about going home. Why, +Miss Pauline, I am just beginning to enjoy myself! only look, it is but +four o'clock." + +"Oh, let us stay and go home by moonlight," cried Mary Leighton, in a +little rapture. + +"Would it not be heavenly!" said Henrietta. + +"How about tea?" said Charlotte. "We shall be hungry before moonlight, +and there isn't anything left to eat." + +"How material!" cried Kilian, who had eaten an enormous dinner. + +"We shall all get cold," said Sophie, who loved to be comfortable, "and +the children are beginning to be very cross." + +"Small blame to them," muttered a dissatisfied man in my ear, who had +singled me out as a companion in discontent, and had pursued me with his +contempt for pastoral entertainments, and for this entertainment +in especial. + +"Well, let the people that want to stay, stay; but let us go home," I +said, hastily. + +"That is so like you, Pauline," exclaimed Mary Leighton, in a voice that +stung me like nettles. + +"It is very like common-sense," I said, "if that's like me." + +"Well, it isn't particularly." + +"Let dogs delight," said Kilian, "I have a compromise to offer. If we go +home by the bridge we pass the little Brink hotel, where they give +capital teas. We can stop there, rest, get tea, have a dance in the +'ball-room,' sixteen by twenty, and go home by moonlight, filling the +souls of Miss Leighton and Henrietta with bliss." + +A chorus of ecstasy followed this; Sophie herself was satisfied with the +plan, and exulted in the prospect of washing her face, and lying down on +a bed for half an hour, though only at a little country inn. Even this +low form of civilized life was tempting, after seven hours spent in +communion with nature on hard rocks. + +Great alacrity was shown in getting ready and in getting off. I could +not speak to any one, not even the dissatisfied man, but walked away by +myself and tried to let no one see what I was feeling. After all was +ready, I got into the carriage beside one of the Miss Lowders, and the +dissatisfied man sat opposite. He wore canvas shoes and a corduroy suit, +and sleeve-buttons and studs that were all bugs and bees. I think I +could make a drawing of the sleeve-button on the arm with which he held +the umbrella over us; there were five different forms of insect-life +represented on it, but I remember them all. + +"I'm afraid you haven't enjoyed yourself very much," said Miss Lowder, +looking at me rather critically. + +"I? why--no, perhaps not; I don't generally enjoy myself very much." + +Somebody out on the front seat laughed very shrilly at this: of course +it was Mary Leighton, who was sitting beside Kilian, who drove. I felt I +would have liked to push her over among the horses, and drive on. + +"Isn't her voice like a steel file?" I said with great simplicity to my +companions. The dissatisfied man, writhing uncomfortably on his seat, +four inches too narrow for any one but a child of six, assented +gloomily. Miss Lowder, who was twenty-eight years old and very well +bred, looked disapproving, and changed the subject. Not much more was +said after this. Miss Lowder had a neuralgic headache, developed by the +cold wind and an undigested dinner eaten irregularly. She was too polite +to mention her sufferings, but leaned back in the carriage and +was silent. + +My vis-à-vis was at last relieved by the declining sun from his task, +and so the umbrella-arm and its sleeve-button were removed from my range +of vision. + +We counted the mile-posts, and we looked sometimes at our watches, and +so the time wore away. + +Kilian and Mary Leighton were chattering incessantly, and did not pay +much attention to us. Kilian drove pretty fast almost all the way, but +sometimes forgot himself when Mary was too seductive, and let the horses +creep along like snails. + +"There's our little tavern," cried Kilian at last, starting up the +horses. + +"Oh, I'm so sorry," murmured Mary Leighton, "we have had such a lovely +drive." + +My vis-à-vis groaned and looked at me as this observation reached us. I +laughed a little hysterically: I was so glad to be at the half-way +house--and Mary Leighton's words were so absurd. When we got out of the +carriage, the dissatisfied man stretched his long English limbs out, and +lighting his cigar, began silently to pace the bricks in front of +the house. + +Kilian took us into the little parlor (we were the first to arrive), and +committed us to the care of a thin, tired-looking woman, and then went +to see to the comfort of his horses. + +The tired woman, who looked as if she never had sat down since she grew +up, took us to some rooms, where we were to rest till tea was ready. The +rooms had been shut up all day, and the sun had been beating on them: +they smelled of paint and dust and ill-brushed carpets. The water in the +pitchers was warm and not very clear: the towels were very small and +thin, the beds were hard, and the pillows very small, like the towels: +they felt soft and warm and limp, like sick kittens. We threw open the +windows and aired the rooms, and washed our faces and hands: and Miss +Lowder lay down on the bed and put her head on a pile of four of the +little pillows collected from the different rooms. Mary Leighton spent +the time in re-arranging her hair, and I walked up and down the hall, +too impatient to rest myself in any way. + +By-and-by the others came, and then there was a hubbub and a clatter, +and poor Miss Lowder's head was overlooked in the mêlée; for these were +all the rooms the house afforded for the entertainment of wayfarers, and +as there were nine ladies in our party, it is not difficult to imagine +the confusion that ensued. + +Benny and Charley also came to have their hair arranged, and it devolved +on Charlotte and me to do it, as their mamma had thrown herself +exhausted on one of the beds, and with the bolsters doubled up under her +head, was trying to get some rest. + +It was fully half-past seven before the tea-bell rang. I seized Benny's +hand, and we were the first on the ground. I don't know how I thought +this would be useful in hurrying matters, for Benny's tea and mine were +very soon taken, and were very insignificant fractions of the +general business. + +There were kerosene lamps on the table, and everything was served in the +plainest manner, but the cooking was really good, and it was evident +that the tired woman had been on her feet all her life to some purpose. +Almost every one was hungry, and the contrast to the cold meats, and the +hard rocks, and the disjointed apparatus of the noonday meal, was very +favorable. + +Richard had put me between himself and Benny, and he watched my +undiminished supper with disapprobation: but I do not believe he ate +much more himself. He put everything that he thought I might like, +before me, silently: and I think the tired woman (who was waitress as +well as cook), must have groaned over the frequent changing of my plate. + +"Do not take any more of that," he said, as I put out my hand for +another cup of coffee. + +"Well, what shall I take?" I exclaimed peevishly. But indeed I did not +mean to be peevish, nor did I know quite what I said, I was so +miserable. Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some question +of Sophie; who was quite revived. + +Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, and a +young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders. + +It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies from +the house. After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the smoking +there was to be dancing. The preparations for the dancing created a good +deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time. Kilian and young +Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play for them. When he +came, he had to be instructed as to the style of music to be furnished, +and the rasping and scraping of that miserable instrument put me beside +myself with nervousness. Then the "ball-room" had to be aired and +lighted; then the negro's music was found to be incompatible with modern +movements; even a waltz was proved impossible, and nobody would consent +to remember a quadrille but Richard. So they had to fall back upon +Virginia reels, and everybody was made to dance. + +The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given. He turned +to me languidly, and offered me his hand. + +"No," I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, "You will +excuse me, won't you?" + +He said, with grave philosophy, "I really think it will seem shorter +than if we were looking on." + +I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him. And what a +dance it was! The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of the room, the +asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the little platform by +the door: the amused faces looking in at the open windows: the romping, +well-dressed, pretty women: the handsome men who were trying to act like +clowns: the noise of laughing and the calling out of the figures: all +this, I am sure, I never shall forget. And, strange to say, I somewhat +enjoyed it after all. The coffee had stimulated me: the music was merry: +I was reckless, and my companions were full of glee. Even the _ennuyé_ +skipped up and down the room like a school-boy: I never shall forget +Richard's happy and relieved expression, when I laughed aloud at +somebody's amusing blunder. + +Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were getting +ready to go home. It was a good deal after ten o'clock, and the night +was cold. There were not quite shawls enough, no preparations having +been made for staying out after dark. Richard went up to Sophie (I was +standing out by the steps to be ready the moment the carriages should +come), and I heard him negotiating with her for a shawl for me. She was +quite impatient and peremptory, though _sotto voce_. The children needed +both her extra ones, and there was an end of it. + +I did not care at all, and feeling warm with dancing, did not dread what +I had not yet felt. I pulled my light cloak around me, and only longed +for the carriage to arrive. But after we had started and were about +forty rods from the door, quite out of the light of the little tavern, +just within a grove of locust-trees (the moon was under clouds), +Richard's voice called out to Kilian to stop, and coming up to the side +of the carriage, said, "Put this around you, Pauline, you haven't got +enough." He put something around my shoulders which felt very warm and +comfortable: I believe I said, Thank you, though I am not at all sure, +and Kilian drove on rapidly. + +By-and-by, when I began to feel a little chilly, I drew it together +round my throat: the air was like November, and, August though it was, +there was a white frost that night. I was frightened when I found what I +had about my shoulders. It was Richard's coat. I called to Kilian to +stop a moment, I wanted to speak to Richard. But when we stopped, the +carriage in which he was to drive was just behind us--and some one in it +said, Richard had walked. He had not come back after he ran out to speak +to us--must have struck across the fields and gone ahead. And Richard +walked home, five miles, that night! the only way to save himself from +the deadly chill of the keen air, without his coat. + +When we drove into the gate, at home, I stooped eagerly forward to get a +sight of the house through the trees. There was a light burning in the +room over mine: that was all I wanted to know, and with a sigh of relief +I sank back. + +When we went into the hall, I remembered to hang Richard's coat upon a +rack there, and then ran to my room. I could not get any news of Mr. +Langenau, and could not hear how the day had gone with him: could only +take the hope that the sight of the little lamp conveyed. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM. + + Go on, go on: + Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved + All tongues to talk their bitterest. + + _Winter's Tale_. + + +Of course, the night was entirely sleepless after such, a day. I was +over-tired, and the coffee would have been fatal to rest in any case. I +tossed about restlessly till three o'clock, and then fell into a +heavy sleep. + +The sun was shining into the room, and I heard the voices of people on +the lawn when I awoke. When I went down, after a hurried and nervous +half-hour of dressing, I found the morning, apparently, half gone, and +the breakfast-table cleared. + +Mary Leighton, with a croquet mallet in her hand, was following Kilian +through the hall to get a drink of water. She made a great outcry at me +and my appearance. + +"What a headache you must have," she cried. "But ah! think what you've +missed, dear! The tutor has been down at breakfast, or rather at the +breakfast-table, for he didn't eat a thing. He is a, little paler than +he was at dinner day before yesterday--and he's gone up-stairs; and +we've voted that we hope he'll stay there, for he depresses us just to +look at him." + +And then, with an unmeaning laugh, she tripped on after Kilian to get +that drink of water, which was nothing but a ticket for a moment's +_tête-à-tête_ away from the croquet party. Richard had seen me by this +time, and came in and asked how I felt, and rang the bell in the +dining-room, and ordered my breakfast brought. He did not exactly stay +and watch it, but he came in and out of the dining-room enough times to +see that I had everything that was dainty and nice (and to see, alas! +that I could not eat it); for that piece of news from Mary Leighton had +levelled me with the ground again. + +That I had missed seeing him was too cruel, and that he looked so ill; +how could I bear it? + +After my breakfast was taken away, I went into the hall, and sat down on +the sofa between the parlor doors. Pretty soon the people came in from +the croquet ground, talking fiercely about a game in which Kilian and +Mary had been cheating. Charlotte Benson was quite angry, and Charley, +who had played with her, was enraged. I thought they were such, fools +to care, and Richard looked as if he thought they were all silly +children. The day was warm and close, such a contrast to the day before. +The sudden cold had broken down into a sultry August atmosphere. The +sun, which had been bright an hour ago, was becoming obscured, and the +sky was grayish. Every one felt languid. We were all sitting about the +hall, idly, when a servant brought a note. It was an invitation; that +roused them all--and for to-day. There was no time to lose. + +The Lowders had sent to ask us all to a croquet party there at four +o'clock. + +"What an hour!" cried Sophie, who was tired; "I should think they might +have let us get rested from the picnic." + +But Charlotte and Henrietta were so much charmed at the prospect of +seeing so soon the Frenchman and the young devoted Lowder, that they +listened to no criticism on the hour or day. + +"How nice!" they said, "we shall get there a little before five--play +for a couple of hours--then have tea on the lawn, perhaps--a little +dance, and home by moonlight." It was a ravishing prospect for their +unemployed imaginations, and they left no time in rendering +their answer. + +For myself, I had taken a firm resolve. I would never repeat the misery +of yesterday; nothing should persuade me to go with them, but I would +manage it so that I should be free from every one, even Richard. + +Croquet parties are great occasions for pretty costumes; all this was +talked over. What should I wear? Oh, my gray grenadine, with the violet +trimmings, and a gray hat with violet velvet and feather. + +"You have everything so perfect for that suit," said Mary Leighton, in a +tone of envy. "Cravat and parasol and gloves of just the shade +of violet." + +"And gray boots," I said. "It _is_ a pretty suit." No one but Sophie had +such expensive clothes as I, but I cannot say at that moment they made +me very happy. I was only thinking how improbable that the gray suit +would come out of the box that day, unless I should be obliged to dress +to mislead the others till the last. + +The carriages (for we filled two), were to be at the door at four +o'clock punctually. The Lowders were five miles away: the whole thing +was so talked about and planned about, that when dinner was over, I felt +we had had a croquet party, and quite a long one at that. + +Mr. Langenau did not come to dinner; Sophie sent a servant to his room +after we were at table, to ask him if he would come down, or have his +dinner sent to him; but the servant came back, saying he did not want +any dinner, with his compliments to Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +"_À la bonne heure_" cried Kilian. "A skeleton always interferes with my +appetite at a feast." + +"It is the only thing, then, that does, isn't it?" asked Charlotte, who +seemed to have a pick at him always. + +"No, not the only thing. There is one other--just one other." + +"And, for the sake of science, what is that?" + +"A woman with a sharp tongue, Miss Charlotte.--Sophie, I don't think +much of these last soups. Your famous cook's degenerating, take +my word." + +And so on, while Charlotte colored, and was silent through the meal. She +knew her tongue was sharp; she knew that she was self-willed and was not +humble. But she had not taken herself in hand, religiously; to take +one's self in hand morally, or on grounds of expediency, never amounts +to much; and such taking in hand was all that Charlotte had as yet +attempted. In a little passion of self-reproach and mortification, she +occasionally lopped off ugly shoots; but the root was still vigorous and +lusty, and only grew the better for its petty pruning. Richard looked +very much displeased at his brother's rudeness, and tried to make up +for it by great kindness and attention. + +About this time I had become aware of what were Sophie's plans for +Richard. In case he must marry (to be cured of me), he was to marry +Charlotte, who was so capable, so sensible, of so good family, so much +indebted to Sophie, and so decidedly averse to living in the country. +Sophie saw herself still mistress here, with, to be sure, a shortened +income, and Richard and his wife spending a few weeks with her in the +summer. I do not know how far Charlotte entered into these plans. +Probably not at all, consciously; but I became aware that, as a little +girl, Richard had been her hero; and he did not seem to have been +displaced by any one entirely yet. But I took a very faint interest in +all this. I should have cared, probably, if I had seen Richard devoted +to her. He seemed to belong to me, and I should have resented any +interference with my rights. But I did not dread any. I knew, though I +took little pleasure in the knowledge, that he loved me with all his +good and manly heart; and it never seemed a possibility that he +could change. + +The simple selfishness of young women in these matters is appalling. +Richard was mine by right of conquest, and I owed him no gratitude for +the service of his life. That other was the lord who had the right +inalienable over me. I bent myself in the dust before him. I would have +taken shame itself as an honor from his hands. I thought of him day and +night. I filled my soul with passionate admiration for his good deeds, +his ill deeds, his all. And the other was as the ground beneath my feet, +of which I seldom thought. + +Richard met me at the foot of the stairs, after dinner, as I was going +up. + +"Pauline, will you go in the carriage with Charlotte and Sophie? I am +going to drive." + +"Oh, it doesn't make any difference," I answered, with confusion. +"Anywhere you choose." + +I think he had misgivings about my going from that moment; to allay +which, I called out something about my costume to Sophie as I went up to +my room. The day was growing duller, and stiller, and grayer. I sat by +the window and watched the leaden river. It was like an afternoon in +September, before the chill of the autumn has come. Not a leaf moved +upon the trees, not a cloud crept over the sky. It was all one dim, +gray, gloomy stillness overhead. I wondered if they would have rain. +_They_, not I, for I was going to stay at home, and before they came +back I should have seen him. I said that over and over to myself with +bated breath, and cheeks that burned like flame. Every step that passed +my door made me start guiltily. Once, when some one knocked, I pulled +out my gray dress, and flung it on the bed, before I answered. + +It was approaching four o'clock. I undressed myself rapidly, put on a +dressing-sack, and threw myself upon the bed. What should I say when +they came for me? They could not _make_ me go. I felt very brave. At +last the carriages drove up to the door. I crept to the window to see if +any one was ready. While I was watching through the half-closed blinds, +some one crossed the piazza. My heart gave a great leap, and then every +pulse stood still. It was Mr. Langenau. His step was slower than it used +to be, and, I thought, a little faltering. He crossed the road, and took +the path that led through the grove and garden to the river. He had a +book under his arm; he must be going to the boat-house to sit there and +read. My heart gave such an ecstasy of life to my veins at the thought, +that for a moment I felt sick and faint, as I drew back from the window. + +I threw myself on the bed as some one knocked. It was a servant to tell +me they were ready. I sent word to Mrs. Hollenbeck that I was not well, +and should not be able to go with them. Then I lay still and waited in +much trepidation for the second knock. I heard in a few moments the +rustle of Sophie's dress outside. She was not pleased at all. She could +scarcely be polite. But then everything looked very plausible. There lay +my dress upon the bed, as if I had begun to dress, and I was pale and +trembling, and I am sure must have looked ill enough to have convinced +her that I spoke the truth. + +She made some feeble offer to stay and take care of me. "Oh, pray +don't," I cried, too eagerly, I am afraid. And then she said her maid +should come and stay with me, for the children were going with them, and +there would be nothing for her to do. I stammered thanks, and then she +went away. I did not dare to move till after I had heard both carriages +drive off, and all voices die away in the distance. + +Bettina came to the door, and was sent away with thanks. Then I began to +dress myself with very trembling hands. This was new work to me, this +horrible deception. But all remorse for that, was swallowed up in the +one engrossing thought and desire which had usurped my soul for the days +just passed. + +It was a full half-hour before I was ready, my hands shook so +unaccountably, and I could scarcely find the things I wanted to put on. +When I went to the door I could hardly turn the key, I felt so weak, +and I stood in the passage many minutes before I dared go on. If any +one had appeared or spoken to me, I am quite sure I should have fainted, +my nerves were in such a shaken state. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +AUGUST THIRTIETH. + + Were Death so unlike Sleep, + Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame, or steel, + Or poison doubtless; but from water--feel! + + _Robert Browning_. + + +I met no one in the hall or on the piazza. The house was silent and +deserted: one of the maids was closing the parlor windows. She did not +look at me with any surprise, for she had not probably heard that I +was ill. + +Once in the open air I felt stronger. I took the river-path, and walked +quickly, feeling freed from a nightmare: and my mind was filled with one +thought. "In a few moments I shall be beside him, I shall make him look +at me, he cannot help but touch my hand." I did not think of past or +future, only of the greedy, passionate present. My infatuation was at +its height. I cannot imagine a passion more absorbing, more unresisted, +and more dangerous. I passed quickly through the garden without even +noticing the flowers that brushed against my dress. + +As I reached the grove I thought for one instant of the morning that he +had met me here, just where the paths intersected. At that moment I +heard a step; and full of that hope, with a quick thrill, I glanced in +the direction of the sound. There, not ten yards from me, coming from +the opposite direction, was Richard. I felt a shock of disappointment, +then fear, then anger. What right had he to dog me so? He looked at me +without surprise, but as if his heart was full of bitterness and sorrow. +He approached, and turned as if to walk with me. + +"I want to be alone," I said angrily, moving away from him. + +"No, Pauline," he answered with a sigh, as he turned from me, "you do +not want to be alone." + +Full of shame and anger, and jarred with the shock and fear, I went on +more slowly. The wood was so silent--the river through the trees lay so +still and leaden. If it had not been for the fire burning in my heart, I +could have thought the world was dead. + +There was not a sound but my own steps; should I soon meet him, would he +be sitting in his old seat by the boat-house door, or would he be +wandering along the dead, still river-bank? What should I say to him? O! +he would speak. If he saw me he would have to speak. + +I soon forgot that I had met Richard, that I had been angry; and again +I had but this one thought. + +The pine cones were slippery under my feet. I held by the old trees as I +went down the bank, step by step. I had to turn and pass a clump of +trees before I reached the boat-house door. + +I was there! With a beating heart I stepped up on the threshold. There +were two doors, one that opened on the path, one that opened on the +river. The house was empty. I had a little sinking pang of +disappointment, but I passed on to the door looking out on the river. By +this door was a seat, empty, but on this lay a book and a straw hat. I +could feel the hot blushes cover my face, my neck, as I caught sight of +these. I stooped down, feeling guilty, and took up the book. It was a +book which he had read daily to me in our lesson-hours. It had his name +on the blank page, and was full of his pencil-marks. I meant to ask him +to give me this book; I would rather have it than anything the world +held, when I should be parted from him. _When!_ I sat down on the seat +beside the door, with the book lying in my lap, the straw hat on the +bench. I longed to take it in my hands--to wreathe it with the clematis +that grew about the door, as I had done one foolish, happy afternoon, +not three weeks ago. But with a strange inconsistency, I dared not +touch it; my face grew hot with blushes as I thought of it. + +How should I meet him? Now that the moment I had longed for had arrived, +I wondered that I had dared to long for it. I felt that if I heard his +step, I should fly and hide myself from him. The recollection of that +last interview in the library--which I had lived over and over, nights +and days, incessantly, since then, came back with fresh force, fresh +vehemence. But no step approached me, all was silent; it began to +impress me strangely, and I looked about me. I don't know at what moment +it was, my eye fell upon the trace of footsteps on the bank, and then on +the mark of the boat dragged along the sand; a little below the +boat-house it had been pushed off into the water. + +I started to my feet, and ran down to the water's edge (at the +boat-house the trees had been in the way of my seeing the river any +distance). + +I stood still, the water lapping faintly on the sand at my feet; it was +hardly a sound. I looked out on the unruffled lead-colored river: there, +about quarter of a mile from the bank, the boat was lying: empty +--motionless. The oars were floating a few rods from her, drifting +slowly, slowly, down the stream. + +The sight seemed to turn my warm blood and blushes into ice: even +before I had a distinct impression of what I feared, I was benumbed. But +it did not take many moments for the truth, or a dread of it, to +reach my brain. + +I covered my eyes with my hands, then sprang up the bank and called +wildly. + +My voice was like a madwoman's, and it must have sounded far on that +still air. In less than a moment Richard came hurrying with great +strides down the path. I sprang to him, and caught his arm and dragged +him to the water's edge. + +"Look," I whispered--pointing to the hat and book--and then out to the +boat. I read his face in terror. It grew slowly, deadly white. + +"My God!" he said in a tone of awe. Then shaking me from him, sprang up +the bank, and his voice was something fearful as he shouted, as he +ran, for help. + +There were men laboring, two or three fields off. I don't know how long +it took them to get to him, nor how long to get a boat out on the water, +nor what boat it was. I know they had ropes and poles, and that they +were talking in eager, hurried voices, as they passed me. + +I sat on the steps that led down the bank, clinging to the low railing +with my hands: I had sunk down because my strength had given way all at +once, and I felt as if everything were rocking and surging under me. +Sometimes everything was black before me, and then again I could see +plainly the wide expanse of the river, the wide expanse of the gray sky, +and between them--the empty, motionless boat, and the floating oars +beyond upon the tide. + +The voices of the men, and the splashing of the water, when at last they +were launched and pulling away from shore, made a ringing, frightful +noise in my head. I watched till I saw them reach the boat--till I saw +one of them get over in it. Then while they groped about with ropes and +poles, and lashed their boats together, and leaned over and gazed down +into the water, I watched in a strange, benumbed state. + +But, by-and-by, there were some exclamations--a stir, and effort of +strength. I saw them pulling in the ropes with combined movement. I saw +them leaning over the side of the boat, nearest the shore, and together +trying to lift something heavy over into it. I saw the water dripping as +they raised it--and then I think I must have swooned. For I knew nothing +further till I heard Richard's voice, and, raising my head, saw him +leaping from the boat upon the bank. The other boat was further out, and +was approaching slowly. I stood up as he came to me, and held by +the railing. + +"I want you to go up to the house," he said, gently, "there can be no +good in your staying here." + +"I will stay," I cried, everything coming back to me. "I will--will see +him." + +"There is no hope, Pauline," he said, in a quick voice, for the boat was +very near the bank, "or very little--and you must not stay. Everything +shall be done that can be done. I will do all. But you must not stay." + +"I will," I said, frantically, trying to burst past him. He caught my +arms and turned me toward the boat-house, and led me through it, out +into the path that went up to the grove. + +"Go home," he said, in a voice I never shall forget. "You shall not make +a spectacle for these men. I have promised you I will do all. Mind you +obey me strictly, and go up to your room and wait there till I come." + +I don't know how I got there. I believe Bettina found me at the entrance +to the garden, and helped me to the house, and put me on my bed. + +An hour passed--perhaps more--and such an hour! (for I was not for a +moment unconscious, after this, only deadly faint and weak), and then +Richard came. The door was a little open, and he pushed it back and +came in, and stood beside the bed. + +I suppose the sight of me, so broken and spoiled by suffering, overcame +him, for he stooped down suddenly, and kissed me, and then did not speak +for a moment. + +At last he said, in a voice not quite steady, "I didn't mean to be hard +on you, Pauline. But you know I had to do it." + +"And there isn't any--any--" I gasped for the words, and could hardly +speak. + +"No, none, Pauline," he said, keeping my hand in his. "The doctors have +just gone away. It was all no use." + +"Tell me about it," I whispered. + +"About what?" he said, looking troubled. + +"About how it happened." + +"Nobody can tell," he answered, averting his face. "We can only +conjecture about some things. Don't try to think about it. Try to rest." + +"How does he look?" I whispered, clinging to his hand. + +"Just the same as ever; more quiet, perhaps," he answered, looking +troubled. + +I gave a sort of gasp, but did not cry. I think he was frightened, for +he said, uneasily, "Let me call Bettina; she can give you +something--she can sit beside you." + +I shook my head, and said, faintly, "Don't let her come." + +"I have sent for Sophie," he said, soothingly. "She will soon be here, +and will know what to do for you." + +"Keep her out of this room," I cried, half raising myself, and then +falling back from sudden faintness. "Don't let her come _near_ me," I +panted, after a moment, "nor any of them, but, most of all, Sophie; +remember--don't let her even look at me;" and with moaning, I turned my +face down on the pillow. I had taken in about a thousandth fraction of +my great calamity by that time. Every moment was giving to me some +additional possession of it. + +Some one at that instant called Richard, in that subdued tone that +people use about a house in which there is one dead. + +"I have got to go," he said, uneasily. I still kept hold of his hand. +"But I will come back before very long; and I will tell Bettina to bring +a chair and sit outside your door, and not let any one come in." + +"That will do," I said, letting go his hand, "only I don't want my door +shut tight." + +I felt as if the separation were not so entire, so tremendous, while I +could hear what was going on below, and know that no door was shut +between us--no door! Bettina, in a moment more, had taken up her station +in the passage-way outside. + +I heard people coming and going quietly through the hall below. I heard +doors softly shut and opened. + +I knew, by some intuition, that _he_ was lying in the library. They +moved furniture with a smothered sound; and when I heard two or three +men sent off on messages by Richard, even the horses' hoofs seemed to be +muffled as they struck the ground. This was the effect of the coming in +of death into busy, household life. I had never been under the roof with +it before. + +About dusk a servant came to the door, with a tray of tea and something +to eat, that Mr. Richard had sent her with. + +"No," I said, "don't leave it here." + +But, in a few moments, Richard himself brought it back. I can well +imagine how anxious and unhappy he felt. He had, perhaps, never before +had charge of any one ill or in trouble, and this was a strange +experience. + +"You must eat something, Pauline," he said. "I want you to. Sit up, and +take this tea." + +I was not inclined to dispute his will, but raised my head, and drank +the tea, and ate a few mouthfuls of the biscuit. But that made me too +ill, and I put the plate away from me. + +"I am very sorry," I said, meekly, "but I can't eat it. I feel as if it +choked me." + +He seemed touched with my submissiveness, and, giving Bettina the tray, +stood looking down at me as if he did not know how to say something that +was in his mind. Suddenly my ear, always quick, now exaggeratedly so, +caught sound of carriage-wheels. I started up and cried, "They are +coming," and hid my face in my hands. + +"Don't be troubled," he said, "you shall not be disturbed." + +"Oh, Richard," I exclaimed, as he was going away, after another +undecided movement as if to speak, "you know what I want." + +"Yes, I know," he said, in a low voice. + +"And now they're come, I cannot. They will see him, and I cannot." + +"Be patient. I will arrange for you to go. Don't, don't, Pauline." + +For I was in a sort of spasm, though no tears came, and my sobs were +more like the gasps of a person being suffocated, than like one +in grief. + +"If you will only be quiet, I will take you down, after a few hours, +when they are all gone to their rooms. Pauline, you'll kill me; don't do +so--Pauline, they'll hear you. Try not to do so; that's right--lie down +and try to quiet yourself, poor child. I can't bear to go away; but +there is Sophie on the stairs." + +He had scarcely time to reach the hall before Sophie burst upon him with +almost a shriek. + +"What is this horrible affair, Richard? What a terrible disgrace and +scandal! we never shall get over it. Will it get in the papers, do you +think? I am so ill--I have been in such a state since the news came. +Such a drive home as this has been! Oh, Richard, tell me all about it +quickly. Where is Pauline? how does she bear it?" making for my door. + +Richard put out his hand and stopped her. I had sprung up from the bed, +and stood, trembling violently, at the further extremity of the room. I +do not know what I meant to do if she came in, for I was almost beside +myself at that moment. + +She was persistent, angry, agitated. How well I knew the curiosity that +made her so intent to gain admission to me. It was not so much that I +dreaded being a spectacle, as the horror and hatred I felt at being +approached by her coldness and hypocrisy, while I was so sore and +wounded. I was hardly responsible; I don't think I could have borne the +touch of her hand. + +But Richard saved me, and sent her away angry. I crept back to the bed, +and lay down on it again. I heard the others whispering as they passed +through the hall. Mary Leighton was crying; Charlotte was silent. I +don't think I heard her voice at all. + +After a long while I heard them go down, and go into the dining-room. +They spoke in very subdued tones, and there was only the slightest +movement of china and silver, to indicate that a meal was going on. But +this seemed to give me a more frantic sense of change than anything +else. I flung myself across the bed, and another of those dreadful, +tearless spasms seized me. Everything--all life--was going on just the +same; even in this very house they were eating and drinking as they ate +and drank before--the very people who had talked with him this day; the +very table at which he had sat this morning. Oh! they were so heartless +and selfish: every one was; life itself was. I did not know where to +turn for comfort. I had a feeling of dreading every one, of shrinking +away from every one. + +"Oh!" I said to myself, "if Richard is with them at the table, I never +want to see him again." + +But Richard was not with them. In a moment or two he came to the door, +only to ask me if I wanted anything, and to say he would come back +by-and-by. + +There was a question which I longed so frantically to ask him, but +which I dared not; my life seemed to hang on the answer. _When were they +going to take him away?_ I had heard something about trains and +carriages, and I had a wild dread that it was soon to be. + +I went to the door and called Richard back, and made him understand what +I wanted to know. He looked troubled, and said in a low tone, + +"At four o'clock we go from here to meet the earliest train. I have +telegraphed his friends, and have had an answer. I am going down myself, +and it is all arranged in the best way, I think. Go and lie down now, +Pauline; I will come and take you down soon as the house is quiet." + +Richard went away unconscious of the stab his news had given me. I had +not counted on anything so sudden as this parting. While he was in the +house, while I was again to look upon his face, the end had not come; +there was a sort of hope, though only a hope of suffering, something to +look forward to, before black monotony began its endless day. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN. + + There are blind ways provided, the foredone + Heart-weary player in this pageant world + Drops out by, letting the main masque defile + By the conspicuous portal. + + _R. Browning_. + + + What is this world? What asken men to have? + Now with his love--now in his cold grave-- + Alone, withouten any companie! + + _Chaucer_. + + +The tall old clock, which stood by the dining-room door, had struck two, +and been silent many minutes, before Richard came to me. I had spent +those dreadful hours in feverish restlessness: my room seemed +suffocating to me. I had walked about, had put away my trinkets, I had +changed my dress, and put on a white one which I had worn in the +morning, and had tried to braid my hair. + +The quieting of the house, it seemed, would never come. It was twelve +o'clock before any one came up-stairs. I heard one door after another +shut, and then sat waiting and wondering why Richard did not come, till +the moments seemed to grow to centuries. At last I heard him at the +door, and I went toward it trembling, and followed him into the hall. He +carried a light, for up-stairs it was all dark, and when we reached the +stairway, he took my hand to lead me. I was trembling very much; the +hall below was dimly lit by a large lamp which had been turned low. Our +steps on the bare staircase made so much noise, though we tried to move +so silently. It was weird and awful. I clung to Richard's hand in +silence. He led me across the hall, and stopped before the library-door. +He let go my hand, and taking a key from his pocket, put it in the lock, +turned it slowly, then opened the door a little way, and motioned me +to enter. + +Like one in a trance, I obeyed him, and went in alone. He shut the door +noiselessly, and left me with the dead. + +That was the great, the immense hour of my life. No vicissitude, no +calamity of this mortal state, no experience that may be to come, can +ever have the force, the magnitude of this. All feelings, but a child's +feelings, were comparatively new to me, and here, at one moment, I had +put into my hand the plummet that sounded hell; anguish, remorse, +fear--a woman's heart in hopeless pain. For I will not believe that any +child, that any woman, had ever loved more absolutely, more +passionately, than I had loved the man who lay there dead before me. But +I cannot talk about what I felt in those moments; all that concerns what +I write is the external. + +The--coffin was in the middle of the room, where the table ordinarily +stood--where my chair had been that night, when he told me his story. +Surely if I sinned, in thought, in word, _that_ night, I paid its full +atonement, _this_. Candles stood on a small table at the head of where +he lay, and many flowers were about the room. The smell of +verbena-leaves filled the air: a branch of them was in a vase that some +one had put beside his coffin. The fresh, cool night-air came in from +the large window, open at the top. + +His face was, as Richard said, much as in life, only quieter. I do not +know what length of time Richard left me there, but at last, I was +recalled to the present, by his hand upon my shoulder, and his voice in +a whisper, "Come with me now, Pauline." + +I rose to my feet, hardly understanding what he said, but resisted when +I did understand him. + +"Come with me," he said, gently, "You shall come back again and say +good-bye. Only come out into the hall and stay awhile with me; it is not +good for you to be here so long." + +He took my hand and led me out, shutting the door noiselessly. He took +me across the hall, and into the parlor, where there was no light, +except what came in from the hall. There was a sofa opposite the door, +and to that he led me, standing himself before me, with his perplexed +and careworn face. I was very silent for some time: all that awful time +in the library, I had never made a sound: but suddenly, some thought +came that reached the source of my tears, and I burst into a passion of +weeping. I am not sure what it was: I think, perhaps, the sight of the +piano, and the recollection of that magnificent voice that would never +be heard again, Whatever it was, I bless it, for I think it saved my +brain. I threw myself down upon the sofa, and clung to Richard's hand, +and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. + +Poor fellow! my tears seemed to shake him terribly. Once he turned away, +and drew his hand across his brow, as if it were a little more than he +could bear. But some men, like many women, are born to sacrifice. + +He tried to comfort and soothe me with broken words. But what was there +to say? + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, "What does it all mean? why am I so punished? +was it so very wicked to have loved him after I knew all? Was all this +allowed to come because I did that? Answer me, tell me; tell me what +you think." + +"No, Pauline, I don't think that was it. Don't talk about it now. Try to +be quiet. You are not fit to think about it now." + +"But, Richard, what else can it mean? I know, I know that it is the +truth. God wouldn't have sent such a punishment upon me if he hadn't +seen my sin." + +"It's more likely He sent it to--" and then he paused. + +I know now he meant, it was more likely He had sent it to save me from +the sins of others; but he had the holy charity not to say it. + +"Oh," I cried, passionately, "When all the sin was mine, that he should +have had to die: when he never came near me, never looked at me: when he +would rather die than break his word to me. That night in the library, +after he had told me all, he said, 'I will never look into your eyes +again, I will never touch your hand;' and though we were in the same +room together after that, and in the same house all this time, and +though he knew I loved him so--he never looked at me, he never turned +his eyes upon me; and I--I was willing to sin for him--to die for him. I +would have followed him to the ends of the earth, not twelve hours ago." + +"Hush, Pauline," said Richard huskily, "you don't know what you're +saying--you are a child." + +"No, I'm not a child--after to-day, after to-night--I am not a +child--and I know too well what I say--too well--too well. Richard, you +don't know what has been in my heart. That night, he held me in his arms +and kissed me--when he said good-bye. Then I was innocent, for I was +dazed by grief and had not come to my senses, after what he told me. But +to-day I said--_to-day_--to have his arms around me once again--to have +him kiss me once again as he kissed me then--I would go away from all I +ever had been taught of right and duty, and would be satisfied." + +"Then, thank God for what has come," said Richard, hoarsely, wiping from +his forehead the great drops that had broken out upon it. + +"No!" I cried with a fresh burst of weeping. "No, I cannot thank God, +for I want him back again. _I want him_. I had rather die than be +separated from him. I cannot thank God for taking him away from me. Oh, +Richard, what shall I do? I loved him, loved him so. Don't look so +stern; don't turn away from me. You used to love me. Could you thank God +for taking me away from you, out of your arms, warm, and strong, and +living, and making me cold, and dumb, and stiff, like _that_?" + +"Yes, Pauline, if it had been to save us both from sin." + +"You don't know what love is, if you say that." + +"I know what sin is, better than you do, maybe. Listen, Pauline. I've +loved you ever since I saw you; men don't often love better than I have +loved you; but I'd rather drag you, to-night, to that black river there, +and hold you down with my own hands till the breath left your body, than +see you turn into a sinful woman, and lead the life of shame you tell me +you had it in your heart to lead, to-day." + +"Is it so very awful?" I whispered with a shiver, my own emotion stilled +before his. "I only loved him!" + +"Forget you ever did," he said, rising, and pacing up and down the room. + +I put my hands before my face, and felt as if I were alone in the world +with sin. If this unspoken, passionate, sweet thought, that I had +harbored, were so full of danger as to force God to blast me with such +punishment, as to drive this tender, generous, loving man to wish me +dead, what must be the blackness of the sin from which I had been saved, +if I were saved? If there were, indeed, anything but shocks of woe and +punishment, and deadly despair and darkness, in this strange world in +which I found myself. There was a silence. I rose to my feet. I don't +know what I meant to do or where to go; my only impulse was to hide +myself from the eyes of my companion, and to go away from him, as I had +hidden myself from all others, since I was smitten with this +chastisement. + +"Forgive me, Pauline," he said, coming to my side. "It is the second +time I have been harsh with you this dreadful day. This is what comes of +selfishness. I hope you will forget what I have said." + +I still turned to go away, feeling afraid of him and ashamed before him. +He put out his hand to stop me. + +"Pauline, remember, I have been sorely tried. I would do anything to +comfort you. I haven't another wish in my heart but to be of use +to you." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, bursting into tears afresh, and hiding my eyes, +"if you give me up and drive me away from you, I am all alone. There +isn't another human being that I love or that cares for me. Dear +Richard, do be good to me; do be sorry for me." + +"I am sorry for you, Pauline; you know that." + +"And you will take care of me?" I cried, stretching out my arms toward +him, with a sudden overwhelming sense of my loneliness and destitution. + +"Yes, Pauline, to the end of my life or of yours; as if you were my +sister or almost my child." + +"Dear Richard," I whispered, as I buried my face on his arm, "if it were +not for you I should not live through this dreadful time. I hope I shall +die soon; as soon as I am better. But till I do die, I hope you will be +good to me, and love me." And I pressed his hand against my cheek and +lips, like the poor, frantic, grief-bewildered child that I was. + +At this moment there came a sound of movement in the stables: I heard +one of the heavy doors thrown open, and a man leading a horse across the +stable-floor. (The windows were open and the night was very still.) +Richard started, and looked uneasily at his watch, stepping to the door +to get the light. + +"How late is it?" I faltered. + +"Half-past three," he said, turning his eyes away, as if he could not +bear the sight of my face. I do not like to remember the dreadful +moments that followed this: the misery that I put upon Richard by my +passionate, ungoverned grief. I threw myself upon the floor, I clung to +his knees, I prayed him to delay the hour of going--another hour, +another day. I said all the wild and frantic things that were in my +heart, as he closed the library-door and led me to my room. + +"Try to say your prayers, Pauline," was all he could answer me. + +I did try to say them, as I knelt by the window, and saw in the dull, +gray dawn, those two carriages drive slowly from the door. + +Richard went away alone. Kilian indeed came down-stairs just as he was +starting. + +Sophie had awakened, and called him into her room for a few moments. + +Then he came down, and I saw him get into the carriage alone, and motion +the man to drive on, after that other--which stood waiting a few rods +farther on. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A JOURNEY. + + He, full of modesty and truth, + Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought. + + _Tasso_. + + + Fresh grief can occupy itself + With its own recent smart; + It feeds itself on outward things, + And not on its own heart. + + _Faber_ + + +A thing which surprises me very much in looking over those days of +suffering, is, that during that day a frightful irritability is the +emotion that I most remember--an irritability of feeling, not of +expression: for I lay quite still upon the bed all day, and only +answered, briefly and simply, the questions of Sophie and the maid. + +I could not sleep: it was many hours since I had slept: but nothing +seemed further from possibility than sleeping. The lightest sound +enraged my nerves: the approach of any one made me frantic. I lay with +my hands crushed together, and my teeth against each other, whenever +Sophie entered the room. + +She tried to be sympathetic and kind: but she was not much encouraged. +Toward afternoon, she left me a good deal alone. "I wonder how people +feel when they are going mad," I said, getting up and putting cold water +on my head. I was so engaged with the strange sensations that pursued +me, that I did not dwell upon my trouble. + +"Is this the way you feel when you are going to die? or what happens if +you never go to sleep?" My body was so young and healthy, that it was +making a good fight. + +Just at dusk, Richard returned. In a little while, about half an hour, +Sophie came and told me Richard would like to see me in her little +dressing-room. + +The day of panic and horror was over, and proprieties must begin their +sway. I felt I hated Sophie for making me go out of my own room, but I +pulled a shawl over my shoulders and followed her across the hall into +her little room. There Richard was waiting for me. He gave me a chair, +and then said, "You needn't wait, Sophie," and sat down beside me. + +Sophie went away half angry, and Richard looked at me uneasily. + +"I thought you'd want to see me," he said. + +"Yes," I answered; "I wish you'd tell me everything," but in so +commonplace a voice, I know that he was startled. + +"You do not feel well, do you? Maybe we'd better not talk about it now." + +"Oh, yes. You might as well tell me all to-night." + +"Well, everything is done. The two persons to whom I telegraphed met me +at the station. There was very little delay. I went with them to the +cemetery." + +"I am very glad of that. I thought perhaps you wouldn't go. Was there a +clergyman, or don't they have a clergyman when--when--" + +"There was a clergyman," said Richard, briefly. + +"I hope you'll take me there some time," I said dreamily. "Should you +know where to go--exactly?" + +"Exactly," he answered. "But, Pauline, I am afraid you havn't rested at +all to-day. Have you slept?" + +"No; and I wish I could; my head feels so strangely--light, you +know--and as if I couldn't think." + +"Haven't you seen the Doctor?" + +"No--and that's what I want to say. I _won't_ have the Doctor here; and +I want you to take me home to-morrow morning, early, I have put a good +many of my clothes into my trunk, and Bettina will help me with the +rest to-night. Isn't there any train before the five o'clock?" + +"No," said Richard, uneasily. "Pauline, I think you'd better not arrange +to go away to-morrow." + +"If you don't take me out of this house I shall go mad. I have been +thinking about it all day, and I know I shall." + +Richard was silent for a moment, then, with the wise instinct of +affection, wonderful in man, and in a man who had had no experience in +dealing with diseased or suffering minds, he acquiesced in my plan to +go; told me that we would take the earliest train, and interested me in +thoughts about my packing. About nine o'clock he came to my room-door, +and I heard some one with him. It was the Doctor. + +I turned upon Richard a fierce look, and said, very quietly, he might go +away, for I would not see the Doctor. After that, they tried me with +Sophie, but with less success; and, finally, Richard came back alone, +with a glass in his hand. + +"Take this, Pauline, it will make you sleep." + +I wanted to sleep very much, so I took it. + +Bettina had finished my packing, and had laid my travelling dress and +hat upon a chair. + +"Shall Bettina come and sleep on the floor, by your bed?" asked Richard, +anxiously. + +"No, I would not have her for the world." + +"Maybe you might not wake in time," said Richard, warily. + +That was very true: so I let Bettina come. Richard gave her some +instructions at the door, and she came in and arranged things for the +night, and lay down on a mattress at the foot of my bed. + +The sedative which the Doctor sent did not work very well. I had very +little sleep, and that full of such hideous, freezing dreams, that every +time I woke, I found Bettina standing by my bed, looking at me with +alarm. I had been screaming and moaning, she said, The screaming and +moaning and sleeping (such as it was), were all over in about two hours, +and then I had the rest of the night to endure, with the same strange, +light feeling in my head--the restlessness not much, but +somewhat abated. + +I was very glad that Bettina was in the room, for though she was sleepy, +and always a little stupid, she was human, and I was a coward, both in +the matter of loneliness and of suffering. I made her sit by me, and +take hold of my hand, and I asked her several times if she had ever been +with any one that died, or that--I did not quite dare to ask her about +going mad. + +My questions seemed to trouble her. She crossed herself, and shuddered, +and said, No, she had never been with any one that died, and she prayed +the good God never to let her be. + +"You'll have to be with one person that dies, Bettina. That's yourself. +You know it's got to come. We've all got to go out at that gate," and I +moaned, and turned my face away. + +"Let me call Mr. Richard," said Bettina, very much afraid. I would have +given all the world to have seen Richard then; but I knew it was +impossible, and I said, No, it would soon be morning. + +Long before morning, I heard Richard up and walking about the house. We +were to leave the house at half-past four. By four, all the trunks, and +shawls, and packages, were strapped and ready, and I was sitting +dressed, and waiting by the window. + +Bettina liked very much better to pack trunks, and put rooms in order, +than to sit still and hold a person's hot hands, in the middle of the +night, and have dreadful questions asked her; and she had been very +active and efficient. Soon Richard called her to come down and take my +breakfast up to me. I could not eat it, and it was taken away. Then the +carriage came, and the wagon to take the baggage. Finally, Richard came, +and told me it was time to start, if I were ready. + +Sophie came into the room in a wrapper, looking very dutiful and +patient, and said all that was dutiful and civil. But I suppose I was a +fiery trial to her, and she wished, no doubt, that she had never seen +me, or better, that Richard never had. All this I felt, through her +decently framed good-bye, but I did not care at all; to be out of her +sight as soon as possible, was all that I requested. + +When we went down in the hall, Richard looked anxiously at me, but I did +not feel as if I had ever been there before; I really had no feeling. I +said good-bye to Bettina, who was the only servant that I saw, and +Richard put me into the carriage. When, we drove away, I did not even +look back. As we passed out of the gate, I said to him, "What day of the +month is it to-day?" + +"It is the first of September," he returned. + +"And when did I come here?" I asked. + +"Early in June, was it not?" he said. "You know I was not here." + +"Then it is not three months," and I leaned back wearily in the +carriage, and was silent. + +Before we reached the city, Richard had good reason to think that I was +very ill. He made me as comfortable as he could, poor fellow! but I was +so restless, I could not keep in one position two minutes at a time. +Several times I turned to him and said, "It is suffocating in this car; +cannot the window be put up?" and when it was put up, I would seem to +feel no relief, and in a few moments, perhaps, would be shaking with a +nervous chill. It must have been a miserable journey, as I remember it. +Once I said to Richard, after some useless trouble I had put him to, "I +am very sorry, Richard, I don't know how to help it, I feel so +dreadfully." + +Richard tried to answer, but his voice was husky, and he bent his head +down to arrange the bundle of shawls beneath my feet. I knew that there +were tears in his eyes, and that that was the reason that he did not +speak. It made me strangely, momentarily grateful. + +"How strange that you should be so good," I said dreamily, "when Sophie +is so hateful, and Kilian is so trifling. I think your mother must have +been a good woman." + +I had never talked about Richard's mother before, never even thought +whether he had had one or not, in my supreme and light-hearted +selfishness. But the mind, at such a point as I was then, makes strange +plunges out of its own orbit. + +"And she died when you were little?" + +"Yes, when I was scarcely twelve years old." + +"A woman ought to be very good when it makes so much difference to her +children. Richard, did my uncle ever tell you anything about my +mother--what sort of a woman she was, and whether I am like her?" + +"He never said a great deal to me about it," Richard answered, not +looking at me as he talked. "He thinks you are like her, very +strikingly, I believe." + +"Think! I haven't even a scrap of a picture of her, and no one has ever +talked to me about her. All I have are some old yellow letters to my +father, written before I was born. I think she loved my father very +much. The noise of these cars makes me feel so strangely. Can't we go +into the one behind? I am sure it cannot be so bad." + +"This is the best car on the train, Pauline. I know the noise is very +bad, but try to bear it for a little while. We shall soon be there." And +so on, through the weary journey. + +At one station Richard got out, and I saw him speaking to several men. I +believe he was hoping to find a doctor, for he was thoroughly +frightened. + +Before we reached the city I was past being frightened for myself, for I +was suffering too much to think of what might be the result of my +condition. When we left the cars, and Richard put me in a carriage, the +motion of the carriage and its jarring over the stones were almost +unendurable. Richard was too anxious now to say much to me. The +expression of relief on his face as we reached Varick-street was +unspeakable. He hurried up the steps and rang the bell, then came back +for me, and half carried me up the steps. + +The door was opened by Ann Coddle, who was thrown into a helpless state +of amazement by seeing me, not knowing why in this condition I did come, +or why I came at all. She shrieked, and ejaculated, and backed almost +down the basement stairs. Richard sternly told her she was acting like a +fool, and ordered her to show him where Miss Pauline's room was, that he +might take her to it. + +"But her room isn't ready," ejaculated Ann, coming to herself, which was +a wretched thing to come to, as poor Richard found. + +"Not ready? well, make it ready, then. Go before me and open the +windows, and I will put her on the sofa till you have the bed ready +for her." + +"The sofa--oh, Mr. Richard, it's all full of her dear clothes that have +come up from the wash." + +"Well, then, take them off--idiot--and do as you are told." + +"Oh, Miss Pauline--oh, my poor, dear lamb. Oh, I'm all in a flutter; I +don't know what to do. I'd better call the cook." + +"Well, call the cook, then," said Richard, groaning, "only tell her to +be quick." + +All this time Richard was supporting me up the stairs. As we reached the +top, Richard called out, "Tell Peter I want him at once, to take a +message for me." + +Ann was watching our progress up the stairs, with groans and +ejaculations, forgetting that she was to call the cook. At the mention +of Peter she exclaimed, + +"He's laid up with the rheumatism, Mr. Richard. Oh, whatever shall we +do!" + +When we reached the middle of the second pair of stairs, I was almost +helpless; Richard took me in his arms, and carried me. + +"Is it this door, Pauline dear?" he said, opening the first he came to. + +I should think the room had not been opened since I went away, it was so +warm and close. + +Richard carried me to the sofa, and scattered the _lingerie_ far and +wide as he laid me down upon it, and went to open the windows. Then he +went to the bell and pulled it violently. In a few moments the cook came +up (accompanied by Ann). She was a huge, unwieldy woman, but she had +some intelligence, and knew better than to whimper. + +"Miss Pauline is ill," he said, "and I want you to stay by her, and not +leave her for a moment, till I come back. Make that woman get the room +in order instantly, and keep everything as quiet as you can." To me: "I +am going to bring a doctor, and I shall be back in a few moments. Do not +worry, they will take good care of you." + +When I heard Richard shut the carriage-door and drive away rapidly, I +felt as if I were abandoned, and by the time he returned with the +Doctor, I was in a state that warranted them in supposing me +unconscious, tossing and moaning, and uttering inarticulate words. + +The Doctor stood beside me, and talked about me to Richard with as much +freedom as if I had been a corpse. + +"I may as well be frank with you," he said, after a few moments of +examination. "I apprehend great trouble from the brain. How long has she +been in this condition?" + +"She has been unlike herself since yesterday; as soon as I saw her, at +seven o'clock last night, I noticed she was looking badly. She answered +me in an abstracted, odd way, and was unlike herself, as I have said. +But she had been under much excitement for some time." + +"Tell me, if you please, all about it; and how long she has been under +this excitement." + +"She has been often agitated, and quite overstrained in feeling for some +time. Three weeks ago I thought her looking badly. Two days ago she had +a frightful shock--a suicide--which she was the first to discover. Since +then I do not think that she has slept." + +"Ah! poor young lady. She has had a terrible experience, and is paying +for it. Now for what we can do for her. In the first place, who takes +care of her?" with a look about the room. + +"You may well ask. I have just brought her home, and find here, the +man-servant ill, one woman too old and inactive to perform much service, +and another to whom I would not trust her for a moment. I must ask +_you_, who shall I get to take care of her?" + +"You have no friend, no one to whom you could send in such a case? One +of life and death,--I hope you understand?" + +"None," answered Richard, with a groan. "There is not a person in the +city to whom I could send for help. All my family--all our friends, are +away. Is there no one that can be got for money--any money? no nurse +that you could recommend?" + +"I have a list of twenty. Yesterday I sent to every one, for a dangerous +case of hemorrhage, and could not find one disengaged. It may be +to-morrow night before you get on the track of one that is at liberty, +if you hunt the city over. And this girl is in need of instant care; her +life hangs on it, you must see." + +"In God's name, then," said Richard, with a groan, pacing up and down +the room, "what am I to do?" + +"In _His_ name, if you come, to that," said the Doctor, who was a good +sort of man, notwithstanding his professional cool ways, "there is a +sisterhood, that I am told offer to do things like this. I never sent to +them, for I only heard of it a short time ago; but if you have no +objection to crosses, and caps, and ritualistic nonsense in its highest +flower, I have no doubt, that they will let you have a sister, and that +she'll do good service here." + +"The direction," said Richard, too eager to be civil. "How am I to get +there?" + +The Doctor pulled over a pocket-case of loose papers, and at last found +one, which he handed his companion. + +"I give you three quarters of an hour to get back," he said. "I will +stay here till then, at all events. Do not waste any time--nor spare any +eloquence," he added to himself, as Richard hurried from the room. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SISTER MADELINE. + + Yes! it is well for us: from these alarms, + Like children scared, we fly into thine arms; + And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout + With a swift faith which has not time to doubt. + + _Faber._ + + + Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend + Towards a higher object. Love was given, + Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; + For this the passion to excess was driven--- + That self might be annulled; her bondage prove + The fetters of a dream, opposed to love. + + _Wordsworth_. + + +The next thing that I recall, is rousing from slumber, or something +related to slumber, and seeing a tall woman in the dress of a sister, +standing by my bed. It was night, and there was a lamp upon a table +near. The unusual dress, and the unfamiliarity of her whole appearance, +made me start and stare at her, half raising myself in the bed. + +"Why did you come here?" I said. "Who sent for you?" + +"I came because you were sick and suffering, and I was sent in the Name +----" and bending her head slightly, she said a Name too sacred for +these pages. + +I gave a great sigh of relief, and sank back on my pillow. Her answer +satisfied me, for I was not able to reason. I let her hold my hand; and +all through that dark and troubled time submitted to her will, and +desired her presence, and was soothed by her voice and touch. + +Sister Madeline was not at all the ideal sister, being tall and dark, +and with nothing peculiarly devotional or pensive in her cast of +feature. Her face was a fine, earnest one. Her movements were full of +energy and decision, though not quick or sharp. The whole impression +left was that of one by nature far from humility, tenderness, devotion; +but, by the force of a magnificent faith, made passionately humble, +devout from the very heart, more than humanly compassionate and tender. + +I never felt toward her as if she were "born so"--but as if she were +rescued from the world by some great effort or experience; as if it were +all "made ground," reclaimed from nature by infinite patience and +incessant labor. She lived the life of an angel upon the earth. I never +saw her, by look, by word, or tone, transgress the least of the +commandments, so wonderful was the curb she held over all her human +feelings. Nor was this perfection attained by a sudden and grand +sacrifice; the consecration of herself to the religious life was not the +"single step 'twixt earth and heaven," but it was attained by daily and +hourly study--by the practice of a hundred self-denials--by the most +accurate science of spiritual progress. + +Doubtless, saints can be made in other ways, but this is one way they +can be made, starting with a sincere intention to serve God. At least, +so I believe, from knowing Sister Madeline. + +She made a great change in my life, and I owe her a great deal. It is +not strange I feel enthusiasm for her. I cannot bear to think what my +coming back to life would have been without her. + +Of the alarming nature of my illness, I only know that there were +several days when Richard never left the house, but waited, hour after +hour, in the library below, for the news of my condition, and when even +Uncle Leonard came home in the middle of the day, and walked about the +house, silent and unapproachable. + +One night--how well I remember it! I had been convalescent, I do not +know how long; I had passed the childish state of interest in my +_bouilli_, and fretfulness about my _peignoir_; my mind had begun to +regain its ordinary power, and with the first efforts of memory and +thought had come fearful depression and despondency. I was so weak, +physically, that I could not fight against this in the least. Sister +Madeline came to my bedside, and found me in an agony of weeping. It was +not an easy matter to gain my confidence, for I thought she knew nothing +of me, and I was not equal to the mental effort of explaining myself; +she was only associated with my illness. But at last she made me +understand that she was not ignorant of a great deal that troubled me. + +"Who has told you?" I said, my heart hardening itself against Richard, +who could have spoken of my trouble to a stranger. + +"You, yourself," she answered me. + +"I have raved?" I said. + +"Yes." + +"And who has heard me?" + +"No one else. I sent every one else from the room whenever your delirium +became intelligible." + +This made me grateful toward her; and I longed for sympathy. I threw my +arms about her and wept bitterly. + +"Then you know that I can never cry enough," I said. + +"I do not know that," she answered. After a vain attempt to soothe me +with general words of comfort, she said, with much wisdom, "Tell me +exactly what thought gives you the most pain, now, at this moment." + +"The thought of his dreadful act, and that by it he has lost his soul." + +"We know with Whom all things are possible," she said, "and we do not +know what cloud may have been over his reason at that moment. Would it +comfort you to pray for him?" + +"Ought I?" I asked, raising my head. + +"I do not know any reason that you ought not," she returned. "Shall I +say some prayers for him now?" + +I grasped her hand: she took a little book from her pocket, and knelt +down beside me, holding my hand in hers. Oh, the mercy, the relief of +those prayers! They may not have done him any good, but they did me. The +hopeless grief that was killing me, I "wept it from my heart" that hour. + +"Promise me one thing," I whispered as she rose, "that you will read +that prayer, every hour during the day, to-morrow, by my bed, whether I +am sleeping or awake." + +"I promise," she said, and I am sure she kept her word, that day and +many others after it. + +During my convalescence, which was slow, I had no other person near me, +and wanted none. Uncle Leonard came in once a day, and spent a few +minutes, much to his discomfort and my disadvantage. Richard I had not +seen at all, and dreaded very much to meet. Ann Coddle fretted me, and +was very little in the room. + +Over these days there is a sort of peace. I was entering upon so much +that was new and elevating, under the guidance of Sister Madeline, and +was so entirely influenced by her, that I was brought out of my trouble +wonderfully. Not out of it, of course, but from under its crushing +weight. I know that I am rather easily influenced, and only too ready to +follow those who have won my love. Therefore, I am in every way thankful +that I came at such a time under the influence of a mind like that of +Sister Madeline. + +But the time was approaching for her to go away. I was well enough to do +without her, and she had other duties. The sick-room peace and +indulgence were over, and I must take up the burden of every-day life +again. I was very unhappy, and felt as if I were without stay +or guidance. + +"To whom am I to go when I am in doubt?" I said; "you will be so far +away." + +"That is what I want to arrange: the next time you are able to go out, I +want to take you to some one who can direct you much better than I." + +"A priest?" I asked. "Tell me one thing: will he give me absolution?" + +"I suppose he will, if he finds that you desire it." + +"What would be the use of going to him for anything else?" I said. "It +is the only thing that can give me any comfort." + +"All people do not feel so, Pauline." + +"But you feel so, dear Sister Madeline, do you not? You can understand +how I am burdened, and how I long to have the bands undone?" + +"Yes, Pauline, I can understand." + +I am not inclined to give much weight to my own opinions, and as for my +feelings, I know they were, then, those of a child, and in many ways +will always be. I can only say what comforted me, and what I longed for. +There had always been great force to me, in the Scripture that says, +"Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them, and whosesoever +sins ye retain, they are retained," even before I felt the burden of +my sins. + +I had once seen the ordination of a priest, and I suppose that added to +the weight of the words ever after in my mind. I never had any doubt of +the power then conferred, and I no sooner felt the guilt and stain of +sin upon my soul, than I yearned to hear the pardon spoken, that Heaven +offered to the penitent. I had been tangibly smitten; I longed to be +tangibly healed. + +Whatever shame and pain there was about laying bare my soul before +another, I gladly embraced it, as one poor means at my command of +showing to Him whom I had offended, that my repentance was actual, that +I stopped at no humiliation. + +It may very well be that these feelings would find no place in larger, +grander, more self-reliant natures; that what healed my soul would only +wound another. I am not prepared to think that one remedy is cure for +all diseases, but I know what cured mine. I bless God for "the soothing +hand that Love on Conscience laid." I mark that hour as the beginning of +a fresh and favored life; the dawning of a hope that has not yet +lost its power + + "to tame + The haughty brow, to curb the unchastened eye, + And shape to deeds of good each wavering aim." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE HOUR OF DAWN. + + Slowly light came, the thinnest dawn, + Not sunshine, to my night; + A new, more spiritual thing, + An advent of pure light. + + All grief has its limits, all chastenings their pause; + Thy love and our weakness are sorrow's two laws. + + +The winter that followed seemed very long and uneventful. After Sister +Madeline went away, my days settled themselves into the routine in which +they continued to revolve for many months. I was as lonely as formerly, +save for the companionship of well-chosen books, and for the direction +of another mind, which I felt to be the truest support and guidance. I +was taught to bend to my uncle's wishes, and to give up constant +church-going, and visiting among the poor, which would have been such a +resource and occupation to me. And so my life, outwardly, was very +little changed from former years--years that I had found almost +insupportable, without any sorrow; and yet, strange to say, I was +not unhappy. + +My hours were full of little duties, little rules. (I suppose my heart +was in them, or I should have found them irksome.) Above all, I was not +permitted to brood over the past: I was taught to feel that every +thought of it indulged, was a sin, and to be accounted for as such: I +could only remember the one for whom I mourned, on my knees, in my +prayers. This checked, as nothing else could have done, the morbid +tendency of grief, in a lonely, unoccupied, undisciplined mind. I was +thoroughly obedient, and bent myself with all simplicity to follow the +instructions given me. Sometimes they seemed very irrelevant and +useless, but I never rebelled against any, even one that seemed as hard +to flesh and blood as this. And I have, sooner or later, seen the wisdom +of them all, as I have worked out the problem of my correction. + +Obedient as I was, though, and simple as the routine of my life +continued, sometimes there came crises that were beyond my strength. + +I can remember one; it was a furious storm--a day that nailed one in the +house. There was something in the rage without that disturbed me; I +wandered about the house, and found myself unable to settle to any task. +Some one to speak to! Oh, it was so dreary to be alone. I went into my +uncle's room where there were many books. Among those that were there I +found one in French, (I have no idea how it came there, I am sure my +uncle had never read it.) I carelessly turned it over, and finally +became absorbed in it. I came upon this passage: + + Quel plus noir abîme d'angoisse y a-t-il an monde que le + coeur d'un suicide? Quand le malheur d'un homme est dû à + quelque circonstance de sa vie, on pent espérer de l'en voir + délivrer par un changement qui pent survenir dans sa + position. Mais lorsque ce malheur a sa source en lui; quand + c'est l'âme elle-même qui est le tourment de l'âme; la vie + elle-même qui est le fardeau de la vie; que faire, que de + reconnaître en gémissant qu'il n'y a rien à faire--rien, + selon le monde; et qu'un tel homme, plus à plaindre que ce + prisonnier que l'histoire nous peint dans les angoisses de la + faim, se repaissant de sa propre chair, est réduit à dévorer + la substance même de son âme dans les horreurs de son + désespoir. Et qu'imagine-t-il done pour échapper à lui-même, + comme à son plus cruel ennemi? Je ne dis pas: 'Où ira-t-il + loin de l'esprit de Dieu? où fuira-t-il loin de sa face?' Je + demande, où ira-t-il loin de son propre esprit? où fuira-t-il + loin de sa propre face? Où descendra-t-il qu'il ne s'y suive + lui-même; où se cachera-t-il qu'il ne s'y trouve encore? + Insensé, dont la folie égale la misère, quand tu te seras + tué, on dira: 'Il est mort;' mais ce sont les autres qui le + diront; ce ne sera pas toi-même. Tu seras mort pour ton + pays, mort pour ta ville, mort pour ta famille; mais pour + toi-même, pour ce qui pense en toi, hélas! pour ce qui + souffre en toi, tu vivras toujours. + + Et comment ne sens-tu pas, que pour cesser d'être malheureux, + ce n'est pas ta place qu'il faut changer, c'est ton coeur. + Que tu disparaisses sous les flots, qu'un plomb meurtrier + brise ta tête, ou qu'un poison subtil glace tes veines; quoi + que tu fasses, et où que tu ailles, tu n'y peux aller qu'avec + toi-même, qu'avec ton coeur, qu'avec ta misère! Que dis-je? + Tu y vas avec un compte de plus à rendre, à la rencontre du + grand Dieu qui doit te juger; tu y vas avec l'éternité de + plus pour souffrir, et le temps de moins pour te repentir! + + A moins que tu ne penses peut-être, parceque l'oeil de + l'homme n'a rien vu au-delà de la tombe, que cette vie n'ait + pas de suite. Mais non, tu ne saurais le croire! Quand tous + les autres le penseraient, toi, tu ne le pourrais pas. Tu as + une preuve d'immortalité qui t'appartient en propre. Cette + tristesse qui te consume, est quelque chose de trop intime et + de trop profond pour se dissoudre avec tes organes, et ce qui + est capable de tant souffrir ne pent pas s'aller perdre dans + la terre. Les vers hériteront de la poussière de ton corps, + mais l'amertume de ton âme, qui en héritera? Ces extases + sublimes, ces tourments affreux; ces hauteurs des cieux, ces + profondeurs des abîmes; qu'y a-t-il d'assez grand ou d'assez + abaissé, d'assez élevé ou d'assez avili pour les revêtir en + ta place? Non, tu ne saurais jamais croire que tout meurt + avec le corps; ou si tu le pouvais tu n'en serais que plus + insensé, plus misérable encore. + +It is proof how child-like I had been, how obedient in suppressing all +forbidden thoughts, that these words smote me with such horror. I had +indulged in no speculation; I had never thought of him as haunted by the +self he fled; as still bound to an inexorable and inextinguishable life, + + "With time and hope behind him cast, + And all his work to do with palsied hands and cold." + +The terrors I had had, had been vague. I had thought dimly of +punishment, more keenly of separation. If I had analysed my thoughts, I +suppose I should have found annihilation to have been my belief--death +forever, loss eternal. But this--if this were truth--(and it smote me as +the truth alone can smite), oh, it was maddening. To my knees! To my +knees! Oh, that I might live long years to pray for him! Oh, that I +might stretch out my hands to God for him, withered with age and shrunk +with fasting, and strong but in faith and final perseverance! Oh, it +could not be too late! What was prayer made for, but for a time like +this? What was this little breath of time, compared with the Eternal +Years, that we should only speak _now_ for each other to our merciful +God, and never speak for each other afterward? Spirits are forever; and +is prayer only for the days of the body? + +It was well for me that none of the doubts that are so often expressed +had found any lodgment in my brain; if I had not believed that I had a +right to pray for him, and that my prayers might help him, I cannot +understand how I could have lived through those nights and days +of thought. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +APRSÉ PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN. + + What to those who understand + Are to-day's enjoyments narrow, + Which to-morrow go again, + Which are shared with evil men, + And of which no man in his dying + Taketh aught for softer lying? + + +It was now early spring: the days were lengthening and were growing +soft. Lent (late that year) was nearly over. I had begun to think much +about the summer, and to wonder if I were to pass it in the city. There +was one thing that the winter had developed in me, and that was, a sort +of affection for my uncle. I had learned that I owed him a duty, and had +tried to find ways of fulfilling it; had taken a little interest in the +house, and had tried to make him more comfortable. Also I had prayed +very constantly for him, and perhaps there is no way more certain of +establishing an affection, or at least a charity for another, than that. + +In return, he had been a little more human to me than formerly, had +shown some interest in my health, and continued appreciation of the fact +that I was in the house. Once he had talked to me, for perhaps half an +hour, about my mother, for which I was unspeakably grateful. Several +times he had given me a good deal of money, which I had cared much less +about. Latterly he had permitted me to go to church alone, which had +seemed to me must be owing to Richard's intervention. + +Richard had been almost as much as formerly at the house: my uncle was +becoming more and more dependent on him. For myself, I did not see as +much of him as the year before. We were always together at the table, of +course. But the evenings that Richard was with my uncle, I thought it +unnecessary for me to stay down-stairs. Besides, now, they almost always +had writing or business affairs to occupy them. + +It was natural that I should go away, and no one seemed to notice it. +Richard still brought me books, still arranged things for me with my +uncle (as in the matter of going to church alone), but we had no more +talks together by ourselves, and he never asked me to go anywhere with +him. At Christmas he sent me beautiful flowers, and a picture for my +room. Sophie I rarely saw, and only longed never to see Benny was +permitted to come and spend a day with me, at great intervals, and I +enjoyed him more than his mother or his uncle. + +One day my uncle went down to his office in his usual health; at three +o'clock he was brought home senseless, and only lived till midnight, +dying without recovering speech or consciousness. It was a sudden +seizure, but what everybody had expected; everybody was shocked for the +moment, and then wondered that they were. It was very appalling to me; I +was so unhappy, I almost believed I loved him, and I certainly mourned +for him with simplicity and affection. + +The preparations for the funeral were so frightful, and all the thoughts +it brought so unnerving, that I was almost ill. A great deal came upon +me, in trying to manage the wailing servants, and in helping Richard in +arrangements. + +It was the day after the funeral; I was tired, out, and had lain down on +the sofa in the dining-room, partly because I hated to be alone +up-stairs, and partly because it was not far from lunch-time, and I felt +too weary to take any needless steps. I don't think ever in my life +before I had lain down on that sofa, or had spent two hours except, at +the table, in that room. It was a most cheerless room, and no one ever +thought of sitting down in it, except at mealtime. I closed the shutters +and darkened it to suit my eyes, which ached, and I think must have +fallen asleep. + +The parlor was the room which adjoined the dining-room (only two large +rooms on one floor, as they used to build), and separated from it by +heavy mahogany columns and sliding-doors. These doors were half-way +open, and I was roused by voices in the parlor. As soon as I recovered +myself from the sudden waking, I recognized Sophie's and then Richard's. +I wondered what Richard was doing up-town at that hour, and so Sophie +did too, for she asked him very plainly. + +"I thought I ought to come to see Pauline," she said, "but I did not +suppose I should find you here in the middle of the day." + +"There is something that I've got to see Pauline about at once," he +said, "and so I was obliged to come up-town." + +"Nothing has happened?" she said interrogatively. + +"No," he answered, evasively. + +But she went on: "I suppose it's something in relation to the will; I +hope she's well provided for, poor thing." + +"Sophie," said her brother, with a change of tone, "You'll have to hear +it some time, and perhaps you may as well hear it now. It is that that I +have come up-town about; there has been some strange mistake made; there +is no will." + +"No will!" echoed Sophie, "Why, you told me once--" + +"That he had left her everything. So he told me twice last year; so I +have always believed to be the case. Since the day he died, the most +faithful search has been made; there is not a corner of his office, of +his library, of his room, that I have not hunted through. He was so +methodical in business matters, so exact in the care of his papers, that +I had little hope, after I had gone through his desk. I cannot +understand it. It is altogether dark to me." + +"What can have made him change his mind about it, Richard? Can he have +heard anything about last summer?" + +"Not from me, Sophie. But I have sometimes thought he knew, from +allusions that he has made to her mother's marriage, more than once +this winter." + +"He was very angry about that, at the time, I suppose?" + +"Yes, I imagine so. The man she married was poor, and a foreigner: two +things he hated. I never heard there was anything against him but +his poverty." + +"How can he have heard about Mr. Langenau?" said Sophie, musingly. + +"I think Pauline must have told him," said Richard. + +"Pauline? never. She is much too clever; she never told him. You may be +quite sure of _that_." + +"Pauline clever! Poor Pauline!" said Richard, with a short, sarcastic +laugh, which had the effect of making Sophie angry. + +"I am willing," she said, "that she should be as stupid and as good as +you can wish--. To whom does the money go?" she added, as if she had not +patience for the other subject. + +"To a brother, with whom he had a quarrel, and whom he had not seen for +over sixteen years." + +"Incredible!" + +"But there had been some sort of a reconciliation, at least an exchange +of letters, within these three months past." + +"Ah!" + +"And it is in consequence of hearing from him, and being pressed by his +lawyer for an immediate settlement of the estate, that I have come up to +tell Pauline, and to prepare her for her changed prospects." + +"And what do you propose to advise?" asked Sophie, with a chilling +voice. + +"Heaven knows, Sophie," answered her brother, with a heavy sigh. "I see +nothing ahead for the poor girl, but loneliness and trial. She is +utterly unfit to struggle with the world. And she has not even a shelter +for her head." + +"Richard," interrupted his sister, with intensity of feeling in her +voice, "I see what you are trying to persuade yourself: do not tell me, +after what has passed, you still feel that you are bound to her--" + +"_Bound!_" exclaimed Richard, with a vehemence most strange in him, as, +pacing the room, he stood still before his sister. His back was toward +me. She was so absorbed she did not see me as I darted past the +folding-doors into the hall. As I flew panting up to my own room, I +remember one feeling above all others, the first feeling of affection +toward the house that I had ever had. It was mine no longer, my home +never again; I had no right to stay in it a moment: my own room was not +mine any more--the room where I had learned to pray, and to try to lead +a good life--the room where I had lain when I was so near to death--the +room where Sister Madeline had led me to such peaceful, quiet thoughts. +I had but one wish now, not to see Richard, to escape Sophie, to get +away forever from this house to which I had no right. I pulled down my +hat and my street things, and dressed so quickly, that I had slipped +down the stairs, and out into the street, before they had ceased talking +in the parlor. I heard their voices, very low, as I passed through the +hall. I fully meant never to come back to the house again--not to be +turned out. + +My heart swelled as the door closed behind me. It was dreadful not to +have a home. I was so unused to being in the street alone, that I felt +frightened when I reached the cars and stopped them. + +I was going to Sister Madeline. She would take me, and keep me, and +teach me where to live, and how. I was a little confused, and got out at +the wrong street, and had to walk several blocks before I reached +the house. + +The servant at the door met me with an answer that made me wonder +whether there were anything else to happen to me on that day. + +Sister Madeline had been called away--had gone on a long +journey--something about the illness of her brother; and I must not come +inside the door, for a contagious disease was raging, and the orders +were strict that no one be admitted. I had walked so fast, and in such +excitement of feeling, that I was weak and faint when I turned to go +down the steps. Where should I go? I walked on slowly now, and +undecided, for I had no aim. + +The clergyman to whom I had gone for direction in matters spiritual, was +ill--for two weeks had given up even Lenten duties. Anything--but I +could not go home, or rather where home had been. I walked and walked +till I was almost fainting, and found myself in the Park. There the +lovely indications of spring, and the quiet, and the fresh air, soothed +me, and I sat down under some trees near the water, and rested myself. +But the same giddy whirl of thoughts came back, the same incompetency to +deal with such strange facts, and the same confusion. I do not know how +long I wandered about; but I was faint and weary and hungry, and +frightened too, for people were beginning to look at me. + +It began to force itself upon me that I must go back to Varick-street +after all, and take a fresh start. Then I began to think how I should +get back, on which side must I go to find the cars--where was I, +literally. Then I sat down to wait, till I should see some policeman, or +some kind-looking person, near me, to whom I could apply for this very +necessary information. In the meantime I took out my purse to see if I +had the proper change. Verily, not that, nor any change at all! My heart +actually stood still. Yes, it was very true: I had given away, right +and left, during this Lent: caring nothing for money, and being very +sure of more when this was gone. I was literally penniless. I had not +even the money to ride home in the cars. + +Till a person has felt this sensation, he has not had one of the most +remarkable experiences of life. To know where you can get money, to feel +that there is some _dernier ressort_ however hateful to you, is one +thing; but to _know_ that you have not a cent--not a prospect of getting +one--not a hope of earning one--no means of living--this is suffocation. +This is the stopping of that breath that keeps the world alive. + +The bench on which I happened to be sitting was one of those pretty, +little, covered seats, which jut out into the lake. I looked down into +the water as I sat with my empty purse in my lap, and remembered vaguely +the many narratives I had seen in the newspapers about unaccounted-for +and unknown suicides. I could see how it might be inevitable--a sort of +pressure, a fatality that might not be resisted. Even cowardice might be +overcome when that pressure was put on. + +It is a very amazing thing to feel that you have no money, nor any means +of getting even eightpence: it chokes you: you feel as if the wheel had +made its last revolution, and there was no power to make it turn again. +It is not any question of pride, or of independence, when it comes +suddenly; it is a feeling of the inevitable; you do not turn to others. +You feel your individual failure, and you stand alone. + +For myself, this was my reflection: I had not even a shelter for my +head; Richard had said so. I had not a cent of money, and I had no means +of earning any. The uncle who was coming to take possession of the house +and furniture, was one whom I had been taught to distrust and dread. He +would, perhaps, not even let me go into my room again, and would turn me +out to-morrow, if he came: my clothes--were _they_ even mine, or would +they be given to me, if they were? This uncle had reproached Uncle +Leonard once for what he had done for me. I had even an idea that it was +about my mother's marriage that the quarrel had occurred. And hard as I +had regarded Uncle Leonard, he had been the soft-hearted one of the +brothers, who had sheltered the little girl (after he had thrown off the +mother, and broken her poor heart). + +The house in Varick-street would be broken up. What would become of the +cook, and Ann Coddle? It would be easier for them to live than for me. + +They could get work to do, for they knew how to work, and people would +employ them. I--I could do nothing, I had been taught to do nothing. I +had never been directed how to hem a handkerchief. I had tried to dust +my room one day, and the effort had tired me dreadfully, and did not +look very well, as a result. I could not teach. I had been educated in a +slipshod way, no one directing anything about it--just what it occurred +to the person who had charge of me to put before me. + +I had intended to throw myself upon Sister Madeline. But what then? What +could she have done for me? I had asked her months before if I could not +be a sister, and had been discouraged both by her and by my director. I +believe they thought I was too young and too pretty, and, in fact, had +no vocation. No doubt they thought I might soon look upon things +differently, when my trouble was a little older. + +And Richard--I did not give Richard many thoughts that day, for my heart +was sore, when I remembered all his words. He had always thought that I +was to be rich; perhaps that had made him so long patient with me. He +had said I was not clever; he had seemed to be very sorry for me. He +might well be. Sophie had asked him if he were still bound to me. I had +not heard all his answer, but he had spoken in a tone of scorn. I did +not want to think about him. + +There was no whither to turn myself for help. And the clergyman, who had +been more than kind to me, who had seemed to help me with words and +counsel out of heaven,--he was cut off from my succor, and I stood +alone--I, who was so dependent, so naturally timid, and so +easily mistaken. + +It was a dreary hour of my life, that hour that I sat looking over at +the water of the pretty placid lake. I don't like to recall it. Some one +passed by me, gave an exclamation of surprise, and came back hastily. It +was Richard. He seemed so glad, and so relieved to see me--and to me it +was like Heaven opening; notwithstanding my vindictive thoughts about +him, I could have sprung into his arms; I felt protected, safe, the +moment he was by me. I tried to speak, and then began to cry. + +"I've been looking for you these last two hours," he said, sitting down +beside me. "I came up-town to see you, and found you had gone out. I +thought you would not be likely to go anywhere but to see Sister +Madeline, and there the servant told me you had come this way. I could +not find you here, and went back to Varick-street, then was frightened +at hearing you had not come back, and returned again to look for you. +What made you stay so long? Something has happened. Tell me what you are +crying for." + +I had no talent for acting, and not much discretion when I was excited; +and he found out very soon that I knew what had befallen me. (I think he +believed that Sophie had told me of it.) + +"Were you very much surprised?" he said. "Had you supposed that you +would be his heiress?" + +"Why, no. I had not thought anything about it. I am afraid I have not +thought much about anything this winter. I must have been very +ungrateful, as well as childish, for I never have felt as if it were +fortunate that I had a home, and as much money as I wanted. I did not +care anything about being rich, you know--ever." + +"No, I know you did not. I was sure you would have been satisfied with a +very moderate provision." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, clasping my hands together, "if he had left me a +little--just a little--just a few hundred dollars, when he had so much, +to have kept me from having to work, when I don't know how to work, and +am such a child." + +"Work!" he exclaimed, looking down at me as if I were something so +exquisite and so precious, that the very thought was profanation. +"Work! no, Pauline, you shall not have to work." + +"But what can I do?" I said, "I have nothing--and you know it; not a +shelter; not the money to pay for my breakfast to-morrow morning. Not a +person to whom I have a right to go for help; not a human being who is +bound to care for me. Oh, I don't care what becomes of me; I wish that +it were time for me to die." + +Richard got up, and paced up and down the little platform with an +absorbed look. + +"It was so strange," I went on, "when he seemed this winter to take a +little notice of me, and to want to have me near him. I really almost +thought he cared for me. And when I was so ill last Fall, don't you +remember how often he used to come up to my room?" + +"I remember--yes. It is all very strange." + +"And some days early in the winter, when I could scarcely speak at +table, I was so unhappy, he would look at me so long, and seem to think. +And then would be very kind and gentle afterward, and do something to +show he liked me--give me money, you know, as he always did." + +"Tell me, Pauline: did he ever ask you anything about last summer, or +did you ever tell him?" + +"No, Richard, I could never have spoken to him about it; and he never +asked me. But I know he saw that I was not happy." + +"Pauline," said Richard, after a pause, and as if forcing himself to +speak, "there is no use in disguising from you what your position is: +you know it yourself, enough of it, at least, to make you understand why +I speak now. I don't know of any way out of it, but one; and I feel as +if it were ungenerous to press that on you now, and, Heaven knows, I +would not do it if I could think of anything else to offer to you. You +know, Pauline, that if you will marry me, you will have everything that +you need, as much as if your uncle had left you everything." + +He did not look at me, but paced up and down the platform, and spoke +with a thick, husky voice. + +"You know it's been the object of my life, ever since I knew you, but I +don't want that to influence you. I know it is too soon, a great deal +too soon. And I would not have done it, if I could have seen anything +else to do, or if you could have done without me." + +I must have been deadly pale, for when at last he looked at me, he +started. + +"I don't know how it is," he said, with a groan, "I always have to give +you pain, when, Heaven knows, I'd give my life to spare you every +suffering. I can't see any other way to take care of you than the way I +tell you of, and yet, I have no doubt you think me cruel, and selfish, +to ask you to do it now. It does seem so, and yet it is not. If you knew +how much it has cost me to speak, you would believe it." + +"I do believe it," I said, trying to command my voice. "I think you have +always been too good and kind to me. But I can't tell you how this makes +me feel. Oh, Richard, isn't there any, any other way?" + +"Perhaps there may be," he said, with a bitter and disappointed look, +"but I do not know of it." + +"Oh, Richard, do not be angry with me. Think how hard it is for me +always to be disappointing you. I have a great deal of trouble!" + +"Yes, Pauline, I know you have," he said, sitting down by me, and taking +my hand in a repentant way. "You see I'm selfish, and only looked at my +own disappointment just that minute. I thought I had not any hope that +you might not mind the idea of marrying me; but you see, after all, I +had. I believe I must have fancied that you were getting over your +trouble: you have seemed so much brighter lately. But now I know the +truth; and now I know that what I do is simply sacrifice and duty. A man +must be a fool who looks for pleasure in marrying a woman who has no +love for him. And I say now, in the face of it all, marry me, Pauline, +if you can bring yourself to do it. I am the only approach to a friend +that you have in the world. As your husband, I can care for you and +protect you. You are young, your character is unformed, you are ignorant +of the world. You have no home, no protection, literally none, and I am +afraid to trust you. You need not be angry if I say so. I think I've +earned the right to find some faults in you. I don't expect you to love +me. I don't expect to be particularly happy; but there are a good many +ways of serving God and doing one's duty; and if we try to serve him and +to live for duty, it will all come out right at last. You will be a +happier woman, Pauline, if you do it, than if you rebel against it, and +try to find some other way, and put yourself in a subordinate place, or +a place of dependence, and waste your life, and expose yourself to +temptation. No, no, Pauline, I cannot see you do it. Heaven knows, I +wish you had somebody else to direct you. But it has all come upon me, +and I must do the best I can. I think any one else would advise the +same, who had the same means of judging." + +"I will do just what you think best," I said, almost in a whisper, +getting up. + +"That is right," he answered, in a husky voice, rising too, and putting +my cloak about my shoulders, which had fallen off. "You will see it +will be best." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON. + + But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, + Are governed with a goodly modesty, + That suffers not a look to glance away, + Which may let in a little thought unsound. + + _Spenser_. + + + Vouloir ce que Dieu veut est la seule science + Qui nous met en repos. + + _Malherbe_. + + +Richard had obtained for me (with difficulty), from the lawyer of the +new uncle who had arisen, the privilege of remaining in the house for +another month, undisturbed in any way. At the end of those four weeks I +was to be married to him, one day, quietly in church, and to go away. It +was very hard to have to see Sophie, and be treated with ignominy, for +doing what I did not want to do; it was very hard to make preparations +to leave the only place I wanted to stay in now; it was very hard to be +tranquil and even, while my heart was like lead. But I had begun to +discover that that was the general order of things here below, and it +did not amaze me as it had done at first. I was doing my duty, to the +best of my discernment, and was not to be deterred by all the lead in +the world. + +It was very well for Richard to say, he did it for sacrifice and for +duty. I have no doubt at first he did it greatly for those two things: +but he grew happier every day, I could see. He was very considerate of +my sadness, and always acted on the basis on which our engagement was +begun, never keeping my hand in his, or kissing me, or asking any of the +trifling favors of a lover. + +He was grave and silent: but I could see the change in his face; I could +see that he was more exacting of every moment that I spent away from +him; he kept near me, and followed me with his eyes, and seemed never to +be satisfied with his possession of me. + +He bought me the most beautiful jewels, (he had made great strides +toward fortune in the last six months, and was a rich man now in +earnest,) and though he never clasped them on my throat or wrist, nor +even fitted a ring on my finger, I could feel his eyes upon me, +hungering for a smile, a word of gratitude. + +And who would not have been grateful? But it was "too soon, a great deal +too soon," as he had said himself. I was very grateful, but I would +have been glad to die. + +I have wondered whether he saw it or not, I rather think not. I was very +submissive and gentle, and tried to be bright, and I think he was so +absorbed in the satisfaction of my promise, so intent upon his plans for +making me happy, and for making me love him, that he made himself +believe there was no heart of lead below the tranquillity he saw. + +It was the third week since my uncle's death. The next week was to come +the marriage, on Wednesday, the 19th of May. + +"Marriages in May are not happy," said Ann Coddle. + +"I did not need you to tell me that," I thought. + +It was on Thursday, the 13th; Richard had come up a little earlier, in +the evening. It grew to be a little earlier every evening. + +"By-and-by he will not go down-town at all, at this rate," I said to +myself, when I heard his ring that night. + +I was sitting by the parlor-lamp, with the evening paper in my lap, of +which I had not read a word. He came and sat down by the table, and we +talked a little while. I tried to find things to talk about, and +wondered if it always would be so. I felt as if some day I should give +out entirely, and have to go through bankruptcy. (And take a +fresh start.) + +He never seemed to feel the want of talking; I suppose he was quite +satisfied with his thoughts, and with having me beside him. + +By-and-by, he said he should have to go up to the library, and look over +the last of some books of my uncle's, and finish an inventory that he +had begun. Could I not bring my work and sit there by him? I felt a +little selfish, for we were already on the last week, and I said I +thought I would sit in the parlor. I had to write a letter to Sister +Madeline. I had not heard a word from her yet, though I had +written twice. + +Why could not I write in the library? + +I always liked to be alone when I wrote letters: I could not think, when +any one was in the room. Besides, trying to smile, he would be sure +to talk. + +He looked disappointed, and lingered a good while before he went away. +As he rose to go away he threw into my lap a little package, saying, + +"There is some white lace for you. Can't you use it on some of your +clothes? I don't know anything about such things: maybe it isn't pretty +enough, but I thought perhaps it would do for that lilac silk you +talked of." + +I opened the package: it was exquisite, fit for a princess; and as I +bent over it, I thought, how dead I must be, that it gave me no pleasure +to know it was my own, for I had loved such baubles so, a year ago. + +"What a mass of it!" I exclaimed, unfolding yard on yard. + +"You must always wear lace," he said, throwing one end of it over my +black dress around the shoulder. "I like you in it. I am tired of those +stiff little linen collars." + +The lace had given me a little compunction about not spending the +evening with him: but as I had said so, I could not draw back; so I +compromised the matter by going up to the library with him, to see that +he was comfortable, before I came down to write my letter. + +I brought the little student-lamp from my own room and lit it, and put +it on the library-table, and brought him some fresh pens, and opened the +inkstand for him, even pushed up the chair and put a little footstool by +it. Though he was standing by the bookshelves, and seemed to be +engrossed by them, I knew that he was watching me, filled with content +and satisfaction. + +"Do you remember where that box of cigars was put?" he said, turning to +me as I paused. That was to keep me longer; for they were on the shelf, +half a yard from where he stood. + +I got the cigar-box and put it on the table. + +"Now you will want some matches, and this stand is almost empty." So I +took it away with me to my room, and came back with it filled. + +"Is there anything else that I can do?" I said, pausing as I put it on +the table. + +"No, Pauline. I believe not. Thank you." + +I think that moment Richard was nearer to happiness than he had ever +been before. Poor fellow! + +I went down-stairs, feeling quite easy in mind, and sat down to my +letter. That threw me back into the past, for to Sister Madeline I +poured out my heart. An hour went by, and I had forgotten Richard and +the library. I was recalled to the present by hearing some books fall on +the floor (the library was over the parlor); and by hearing Richard's +step heavily crossing the room. I started up, pushed my letter into my +portfolio, and wiped away my tears, quite frightened that Richard should +see me crying. To my surprise, he came hurriedly down the stairs, passed +the parlor-door, opened the hall-door, and shutting it heavily after +him, was gone, without a word to me. This startled me for a moment, it +was so unusual. But my heart was not enough engaged to be wounded by the +slight, and I very soon returned to my letter and my other thoughts. + +When I went up to bed, I stopped in the library, and found the lamp +still burning, the pens unused, a cigar, which had been lighted, but +unsmoked, lying on the table. A book was lying on the floor at the foot +of the bookshelf, where I had left Richard standing. I picked it up. +"This was the last book that Uncle Leonard ever read," I said to myself, +turning its pages over. I remembered that he had it in his hand the last +night of his life, when I bade him goodnight. I was not in the room the +next day, till he was brought home in a dying state. + +Ann had put the books in order, and arranged them, after he went +down-town in the morning. + +I wondered whether Richard knew that that was the last book he had been +reading, and I put it by, to tell him of it in the morning when he came. +But in the morning Richard did not come. Unusual again; and I was for an +hour or two surprised. He always found some excuse for coming on his way +down-town: and it was very odd that he should not want to explain his +sudden going away last night. But, as before, my lack of love made the +wound very slight, and in a little time I had forgotten all about it, +and was only thinking that this was Friday--and that Wednesday was +coming very near. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A REVERSAL + + All this is to be sanctified, + This rupture with the past; + For thus we die before our deaths, + And so die well at last. + + _Faber_. + + +Dinner-time came, and passed, and still Richard did not come. At eight +o'clock Ann brought the tea, as usual, and it stood nearly an hour upon +the table; and then I told her to take it away. + +By this time I had begun to feel uneasy. Something must have happened. +It would necessarily be something uncomfortable, perhaps something that +would frighten me, and give me another shock. And I dreaded that so; I +had had so many. But perhaps, dreadful though it might be, it would +bring me a release. Perhaps Richard was only angry with me, and _that_ +might bring me a release. + +At nine o'clock I heard a ring at the bell, and then his step in the +hall. He was slower than usual in coming in; everything made me feel +confused and apprehensive. When he opened the door and entered, I was +trying to command myself, but I forgot all about myself when I saw +_him_. His face was white, and he looked haggard and harassed, as if he +had gone through a year of suffering since last night, when I left him +with the lamp and cigar in the library. + +I started up and put out my hand. "What is it, Richard? You are in some +trouble." + +He said no, and tried to speak in an ordinary tone, sitting down on the +sofa by my chair. + +I was confused and thrown back by this, and tried to talk as if nothing +had been said. + +"Will you have a cup of tea?" I asked; "Ann has just taken it away." + +He said absently, yes, and I rang for Ann to bring the tea, and then +went to the table to pour it out. + +He sat with his face leaning on his hand on the arm of the sofa, and did +not seem to notice me till I carried the cup to him, and offered it. +Then he started, and looked up and took it, asking my pardon, and +thanking me. + +"Are you not going to have one yourself?" he said, half rising. + +"No, I don't want any to-night. Tell me if yours is right." + +"Yes, it is very nice," he said absently, drinking some. Then rising +suddenly, he put the cup on the mantleshelf, and said to me, "Send Ann +away, I want to talk to you." + +I told Ann I would ring for her when I wanted her, and sat down by the +lamp again, with many apprehensions. + +"You asked me if anything had happened, Pauline, didn't you?" he said. + +"No," I answered. "But I was sure that something had, from the way you +looked when you came in." + +"It is something that--that changes things very much for you, Pauline," +he resumed, with an effort, "and makes all our arrangements +unnecessary--that is, unless you choose." + +I looked amazed and frightened, and he went on. + +"I made a discovery last night in the library. The will is found, +Pauline." + +I started to my feet, with my hands pressed against my heart, waiting +breathlessly for his next word. + +"Everything is left to you--and I have come to tell you, you are +free--if you desire to be." + +"Oh, thank God! Thank God!" I cried; then covering my face with my +hands, sank back into my seat, and burst into tears. + +He turned from me and walked to the other end of the room; each of us +lived much in that little time. + +For myself, I had accepted my bondage so meekly, so dutifully, that I +did not know the weight it had been upon me till it was suddenly taken +off. I did not think of him--I could only think, there was no next +Wednesday, and I could stay where I was. It was like the sudden +cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it was Heaven. I was +crying for joy. But at last the reaction came, and I had to think +of him. + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, going toward him, (he was sitting by the window, +and his hand concealed his eyes.) "I don't know what you think of me, I +hope you can forgive me." + +He did not speak, and I felt a dreadful pang of self-reproach. + +"Richard," I said, crying, and taking hold of his hand, "I am ashamed of +myself for being glad. I will marry you yet, if you want me to. I know +how good you have been to me. I know I am ungrateful and abominable." + +Still he did not speak. His very lips were white, and his hand, when I +touched it, did not meet mine or move. + +"You are angry with me," I cried, bursting into a flood of tears. "Oh, +how you ought to hate me. Oh, I wish we had never seen each other. I +wish I had been dead before I brought you all this trouble. Richard, do +look at me--do speak to me. Don't you believe that I am sorry? Don't you +know I will do anything you want me to?" + +He seemed to try to speak--moved a little, as a person in pain might do, +but, bending his head a little lower on his hand, was silent still. + +"Richard," I said, after several moments' silence, speaking +thoughtfully--"it has all come to me at last. I begin to see what you +have been to me always, and how badly I have treated you. But it must +have been because I was very young, and did not think. I am sure my +heart was not so bad, and I mean to be different now. You know I have +not had any one to teach me. Will you let me try and make you happy?" + +"No, Pauline," he said at last, speaking with effort. "It is all over +now, and we will never talk of it again." + +I was silent for many minutes--standing before him with irresolution. +"If it was right for me to marry you before," I said at last, "Why is it +not right now, if I mean to do my duty?" + +"No, it is no longer right, if it ever was," he answered. "I will not +take advantage of your sense of duty now, as I was going to take +advantage of your necessity before. No, you are free, and it is all +at an end." + +"You are unjust to yourself. You were not taking advantage of my +necessity. You were saving me, and I am ashamed of myself when I think +of everything. Oh, Richard, where did you learn to be so good!" + +A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned away from me. + +"If you give me up," I said timidly, "who will take care of me?" + +"There will be plenty now," he answered bitterly. + +"There wasn't anybody yesterday." + +"But there will be to-morrow. No, Pauline," he said, lifting his head +and speaking in a firmer voice, "What I thought I was doing, till this +showed me my heart, and how I had deceived myself, I will do now, even +if it kills me. I thought I was acting for your good, and from a sense +of duty: now that I know what is for your good, and what is my duty, I +will go on in that, and nothing shall turn me from it, so help +me Heaven." + +"At least you will forgive me," I said, with tears, "for all the things +that I have made you suffer." + +"Yes," he said, with some emotion, "I shall forgive you sooner than I +shall forgive myself. I cannot see that you have been to blame." + +"Ah," I cried, hiding my face with shame, when I thought of all my +selfishness and indifference, and the return I had made him for his +devoted love. "I know how I have been to blame; and I am going to pay +you for your goodness and care by breaking your heart for you--by +upsetting all your plans. Oh, Richard! You had better let it all go on! +Think how everybody knows about it!" + +He shook his head. "I don't care a straw for that," he said. And I am +sure he did not. + +"No," he said firmly, getting up, and walking up and down the room; "it +is all over, and we must make the best of it. I shall still have +everything to do for you under the will; and while you mustn't expect me +to see you often, just for the present time, at least, you know I shall +do everything as faithfully as if nothing had occurred. You must write +to me whenever you think my judgment or advice would do you any good. +And I shall be always looking after things that you don't understand, +and taking care of your interests, whether you hear from me or not. +You'll always be sure of that, whatever may occur." + +"Oh," I faltered, with a sudden frightened feeling of loneliness and +loss, in the midst of my new freedom, "I can't feel as if it were +all over." + +"I don't know how this terrible mistake about the will occurred," he +went on, without noticing what I said: "it was only a--mercy that I +found it when I did. It was between the leaves of a book, an old volume +of Tacitus; I took it down to look at the title for the inventory, and +it fell out." + +"That was the book he had in his hand when I saw him last, that night +before he died." + +"Yes? Then after you went up-stairs I suppose he was thinking of you, +and he took out the will to read it over, and maybe left it out, meaning +to lock it up again in the morning." + +"And in the morning he was not well," I said, "and perhaps went away +leaving it lying on the book; I remember, Ann said there were several +papers lying on the table, when she arranged the room." + +"No doubt," said Richard, "she shut it up in the book it laid on, and +put it on the shelf. But it is all one how it came about. The will is +all correct and duly executed. One of the witnesses was a clerk, who +returned yesterday from South America, where he had been gone for +several months. The other is lying ill at his home in Westchester, but I +have sent to-day and had his deposition taken. It is all in order, and +there can be no dispute." + +I think at that moment I should have been glad if it had been found +invalid. There was something so inevitable and final in Richard's plain +and practical words. + +Evidently a great change had come in my life, and I could not help it if +I would. I could not but feel the separation from the person upon whom I +had leaned so long, and who had done everything for me, and I knew this +separation was to be a final one; Richard's words left no doubt of that. + +"What you'd better do," he said, leaning by the mantelpiece, "is to tell +the servants about this--this--change in your plans, to-morrow; unpack, +and settle the house to stay here for the present. In the course of a +couple of months it will be time enough to make up your mind about where +you will live. I think, till the will is admitted and all that, you had +better keep things as they are, and make no change." + +He had been so used to thinking for me, that he could not give it up at +once. "I will tell Sophie to-morrow," he went on. "It will not be +necessary for you to see her if she should come before she hears of it +from me." (Sophie had an engagement with me to go out on the following +morning. He seemed to to have forgotten nothing.) + +"What will Sophie think of me?" I said, with my eyes on the floor. +"Richard, it looks very bad for me; when I was poor, I was going to +marry you, and now that I have money left me, I am going to break +it off." + +"What difference does it make how it looks," he said, "when you know you +have done right? I will tell Sophie the truth, that it was my doing both +times, and that you only yielded to my judgment in the matter. Besides, +if she judges you harshly, it need not make much matter to you. You will +never again be thrown intimately with her, I suppose." + +"No, I suppose not," I said faintly. I was being turned out of my world +very fast, and it was not very clear what I was going to get in exchange +for it (except freedom). + +"I will send you up money to-morrow morning," he went on, "to pay the +servants, and all that. The clerk I shall send it by, is the one that I +shall put in charge of your matters. You can always draw on him for +money, or ask him any questions, or call on him for any service, in case +I should be away, or ill, or anything." + +"You are going away?" I said interrogatively. + +"It is possible, for a while--I don't know. I haven't made up my mind +definitely about what I am going to do. But in case I _should_ be away, +I mean, you are to call on him." + +"I understand." + +"Anything he tells you, about signing papers, and such things, you may +be sure is all right." + +"Yes." + +"But don't do anything, without consulting me, for anybody else, +remember." + +"I'll remember," I said absently and humbly. It was no wonder Richard +felt I needed somebody to take care of me! + +"I believe there's nothing else I wanted to say to you," he said at +last, moving from the mantelpiece where he had been standing; "at least, +nothing that I can't write about, when it occurs to me." + +"Oh, Richard!" I said, beginning to cry again, as I knew that the moment +of parting had come, "I don't understand you at all. I think you take it +very calm." + +"Isn't that the way to take it?" he said, in a voice that was, +certainly, very calm indeed. + +I looked up in his face: he was ten years older. I really was frightened +at the change in him. + +"Oh!" I exclaimed, putting my face down in my hands, "I wasn't worth +all I've made you suffer." + +"Maybe you weren't," he said simply, "But it wasn't either your fault or +mine--and you couldn't help it--that I wanted you." + +He made a quick movement as he passed the table, and my work-basket fell +at his feet, and a little jewel-box rolled across the floor. It was a +ring he had brought me, only three days before. + +He stooped to pick it up, and I saw his features contract as if in pain, +as he laid it back upon the table. And his voice was unsteady, as he +said, not looking at me while he spoke, "I hope you won't send any of +these things back. If there's anything you're willing to keep, because I +gave it to you, I'd like it very much. The rest send to your church, or +somewhere. I don't want to have to look at them again." + +By this time I was sobbing, and, sitting down by the table, had buried +my face on my arms. + +"I'm sorry that it makes you feel so," he said, "but it can't be helped. +Don't cry, I can't bear to see you cry. Good-bye, Pauline; God +bless you." + +And he was gone. I did not realize it, and did not lift my head, till I +heard the heavy sound of the outer door closing after him. + +Then I knew it was all over, and that things were changed for me +indeed. + +"I cannot cry and get over it as you can," he had said. + +And if tears would have got me over it, I should have been cured that +night. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MY NEW WORLD. + + Few are the fragments left of follies past; + For worthless things are transient. Those that last + Have in them germs of an eternal spirit, + And out of good their permanence inherit. + + _Bowring_. + + + Nor they unblest, + Who underneath the world's bright vest + With sackcloth tame their aching breast, + The sharp-edged cross in jewels hide. + + _Keble_. + + +From eighteen to twenty-four--a long step; and it covers the ground that +is generally the brightest and gayest in a woman's life, and the most +decisive. With me it was, in a certain sense, bright and gay; but the +deciding events of my life seemed to have been crowded into the year, +the story of which has just been told. Of the six years that came after, +there is not much to tell. My character went on forming itself, no +doubt, and interiorly I was growing in one direction or the other; but +in external matters, there is not much of interest. + +I had "no end of money," so it seemed to me, and to a good many other +people, I should think, from the way that they paid me court. I don't +see why it did not turn my head, except that I was what they call +religious, and dreadfully afraid of doing wrong. I was not my own +mistress exactly, either, for I had some one to direct my conscience, +though that was the only direction that I ever had. I had not the +smallest restriction as to money from Richard (to whom the estate was +left in trust); and it had been found much to exceed his expectations, +or those of anybody else. + +I had the whole world before me, where to go and what to choose; not +very much stability of character, and the greatest ignorance; a +considerable share of good looks, and the love of pleasure inseparable +from youth and health; absolutely no authority, and any amount of +flattery and temptation. I think it must be agreed, it was a happy thing +for me that I was brought under the influence of Sister Madeline, and +that through her I was made to feel most afraid of sin, and of myself; +and that the life within, the growth in grace, and the keeping clear my +conscience, was made to appear of more consequence than the life +without, that was so full of pleasures and of snares. + +I often think now of the obedience with which I would give up a party, +stay at home alone, and read a good book, because I had been advised to +do it, or because it was a certain day; of the simplicity with which I +would pat away a novel, when its interest was at the height, because it +was the hour for me to read something different, or because it was +Friday, or because I was to learn to give up doing what I wanted to. + +These things, trivial in themselves, and never bound upon my conscience, +only offered as advice, had the effect of breaking up the constant +influence of the world, giving me a little time for thought, and +opportunity for self-denial. I cannot help thinking such things are very +useful for young persons, and particularly those who have only ordinary +force and resolution. At least, I think they were made a means of +security to me. I was so in earnest to do right, that I often thought, +in terror for myself, in the midst of alluring pleasures and delights, +it was a pity they had not let me be a Sister when I wanted to at first. +(I really think I had more vocation than they thought: I could have +_given up_, to the end of life, without a murmur, if that is what is +necessary.) As to the people who wanted to marry me, I did not care for +any of them, and seemed to have much less coquetry than of old. They +simply did not interest me, (of course, in a few years, I had outgrown +the love that I had supposed to be so immortal.) It was very pleasant to +be always attended to, and to have more constant homage than any other +young woman whom I saw. But as to liking particularly any of the men +themselves, it never occurred to me to think of it. + +I was placed by my fortunate circumstances rather above the intrigue, +and detraction, and heart-burning, that attends the social struggle for +life in ordinary cases. If I were envied, I did not know it, and I had +small reason to envy anybody else, being quite the queen. + +I enjoyed above measure, the bright and pleasant things that I had at my +command: the sunny rooms of my pretty house: the driving, the sailing, +the dancing: all that charms a healthy young taste, and is innocent. I +took journeys, with the ecstasy of youth and of good health. I never +shall forget the pleasure of certain days and skies, and the enjoyment +that I had in nature. In society, I had a little more weariness, as I +grew older, and found a certain want of interest, as was inevitable. +Society isn't all made up of clever people, and even clever people get +to be tiresome in the course of time. But at twenty-four I was by no +means _blasé_, only more addicted to books and journeys, and less +enthusiastic about parties and croquet, though these I could enjoy a +little yet. + +I had a pretty house (and re-furnished it very often, which always gave +me pleasure). I had no care, for Richard had arranged that I should have +a very excellent sort of person for duenna, who had a good deal of tact, +and didn't bore me, and was shrewd enough to make things very smooth. I +liked her very much, though I think now she was something of a +hypocrite. But she had enough principle to make things very respectable, +and I never took her for a friend. We had very pretty little dinners, +and little evenings when anybody wanted them, though the house wasn't +very large. My duenna (by name Throckmorton) liked journeys as well as I +did, and never objected to going anywhere. Altogether we were very +comfortable. + +The people whom I had known in that first year of my social existence, +had drifted away from me a good deal in this new life. Sophie I could +not help meeting sometimes, for she was still a gay woman, but I +naturally belonged to a younger set, and did not go very long into +general society. We still disliked each other with the cordiality of our +first acquaintance, but I was very sorry for it, and had a great many +repentances about it after every meeting. Kilian I met a good deal, but +we rather avoided each other, at short range, though exceedingly good +friends to the general observation. + +Mary Leighton I seldom saw; no doubt she was consumed with envy when she +heard of me, for they were poor, and not able to keep up with gay life +as would have pleased her. She still maintained her intimacy with +Kilian, for he had not the resolution to break off a flirtation of +which, I was sure, he must be very tired. + +Henrietta had married very well, two years after I saw her at R----, and +was the staid, placid matron that she was always meant to be. + +Charlotte Benson was the clever woman still: a little stronger-minded, +and no less good-looking than of old, and no more. People were beginning +to say that she would not marry, though she was only twenty-six. She did +not go much to parties, and was not in my set. She affected art and +lectures, and excursions to mountains, and campings-out, and +unconventionalities, and no doubt had a good time in her way. But it was +not my way: and so we seldom met. When we did, she did not show much +more respect for me than of old, which always had the effect of making +me feel angry. + +And as for Richard, we could not have been much further apart, if he +had lived "in England and I at Rotterdam." For a year, while he was +settling up the estate, he was closely in the city. I did not see him +more than once or twice, all business being transacted through his +lawyer, and the clerk of whom he had spoken to me. After the business +matters of the estate were all in order, he went away, intending, I +believe, to stay a year or two. But he came back before many months were +over, and settled down into the routine of business life, which now +seemed to have become necessary to him. + +Travel was only a weariness to him in his state of mind; and work, and +city-life, seemed the panacea. He did not live with Sophie, but took +apartments, which he furnished plainly; and seemed settling down, +according to his brother, into much of the sort of life that Uncle +Leonard had led so many years in Varick-street. + +Sophie still went to R----, and I often heard of the pleasant parties +there in summer. But Richard seldom went, and seemed to have lost his +interest in the place, though I have no doubt he spent more money on it +than before. I heard of many improvements every year. + +And Richard was now a man of wealth, so much so that people talked about +him; and the newspapers said, in talking about real-estate, or +investments, or institutions of charity--"When such men as Richard +Vandermarck allow their names to appear, we may be sure," etc., etc. He +was now the head of the firm, and one of the first business men of the +city. He seemed a great deal older than he was; thirty-seven is young to +occupy the place he held. + +Such a _parti_ could not be let alone entirely. His course was certainly +discouraging, and it needs tough hopes to live on nothing. But stranger +things had happened; more obdurate men had yielded; and unappropriated +loveliness hoped on. The story of an early attachment was afloat in +connection with his name. I don't know whether I was made to play a part +in it or not. + +I saw him, perhaps, twice a year, not oftener. His manner was always, to +me, peculiarly grave and kind; to every one, practical and unpretending. +I had many letters from him, particularly when I was away on journeys. +He seemed always to want to know exactly where I was, and to feel a care +of me, though his letters never went beyond business matters, and advice +about things I did not understand. + +As my guardian, he could not have done less, nor was it necessary that +he should do more; still I often wished it would occur to him to come +and see me oftener, and give me an opportunity of showing him how much +I had improved, and how different I had become. I had the greatest +respect for his opinion; and he had grown, unconsciously to myself, to +be a sort of oracle with me, and a sort of hero, too. + +I was apt to compare other men with him, and they fell very far short of +his measure in my eyes. That may have been because I saw him much too +seldom, and the other men much too often. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU. + + Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, + And love me still, but know not why; + So hast thou the same reason still + To doat upon me ever! + + +"It's very nice to be at home again," I said to Mrs. Throckmorton, as I +broke a great lump of coal in pieces, and watched the flames +with pleasure. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Throckmorton, putting another piece of sugar in her +coffee, for she was still at the table. "That is, if you call this home; +I must confess it doesn't feel so to me altogether." + +"Well, it's our own dear, noisy, raging, racketing, bustling old city, +if it isn't our own house, and I'm sure we're very comfortable." + +"Very," said Mrs. Throckmorton, who was always pleased. + +"Every time I hear the tinkle of a car-bell, or the roar of an omnibus, +I feel a thrill of pleasure," I said; "I never was so glad to get +anywhere before." + +"That's something new, isn't it?" said Mrs. Throckmorton, briefly. + +"I don't know; I think I am always glad to get back home." + +"And very glad to go away again too, my dear." + +"I don't think I shall travel any more," I returned. "The fact is, I am +getting too old to care about it, I believe." + +Mrs. Throckmorton laughed, being considerably over forty, and still as +fond of going about as ever. + +We were only _de retour_ two days. We had started eighteen months ago, +for at least three years in Europe, and I had found myself unaccountably +tired of it at the end of a year and a half; and here we were. + +Our house was rented, but that I had not allowed to be any obstacle, +though Mrs. Throckmorton, who was very well satisfied with the easy life +abroad, had tried to make it so. I had secured apartments which were +very pretty and complete. We had found them in order, and we had come +there from the steamer. I was eminently happy at being where I wanted +to be. + +"How odd it seems to be in town and have nobody know it," I said, +thinking, with a little quiet satisfaction, how pleased several people I +could name would be, if they only knew we were so near them. + +"Nobody but Mr. Vandermarck, I suppose," said Mrs. Throckmorton. + +"Not even he," I answered, "for he can't have got my letter yet; it was +only mailed the day we started. It was only a chance, you know, our +getting those staterooms, and we were in such a hurry. I was so much +obliged to that dear, old German gentleman for dying. We shouldn't have +been here if he hadn't." + +"Pauline, my dear!" + +"Well, I can't think, as he's probably in heaven, that he can have +begrudged us his tickets to New York." + +"I should think not," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with a little sigh. For +New York was not heaven to her, and she had spent a good deal of the day +in looking up the necessary servants for our establishment, which, +little as it was, required just double the number that had made us +comfortable abroad. + +She had too much discretion to trouble me with her cares, however, so +she said cheerfully, after a few moments, by way of diverting my mind +and her own-- + +"Well, I heard some news to-day." + +"Ah!"--(I had been unpacking all day; and Mrs. Throckmorton in the +interval of servant-hunting had not been able to refrain from a visit or +two, _en passant_ to dear friends.) + +"Yes: Kilian Vandermarck was married yesterday." + +"Yesterday! how odd. And pray, who has he married? Not Mary Leighton, I +should hope." + +"Leighton. Yes, that's the name. No money, and a little _passé_. +Everybody wonders." + +"Well, he deserves it. That is even-handed justice, I'm not sorry for +him. He's been trifling all his days, and now he's got his punishment. +It serves Sophie right, too. I know she can't endure her. She never +thought there was the slightest danger. But I'm sorry for Richard, that +he's got to have such a girl related to him." + +"Oh, well," said Mrs. Throckmorton, "I don't know whether that'll affect +him very much, for they say he's going to be married too." + +"Richard!" + +"Yes; and to that Benson girl, you know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Mary Ann. She's heard it half a dozen times, she says. I believe it's +rather an old affair. His sister made it up, I'm told. The young lady's +been spending the summer with them, and this autumn it came out." + +"I don't believe it." + +"I'm sure I don't know; only that's the talk. It would be odd, though, +if we'd just come home in time for the wedding. You'll have to give her +something handsome, being your guardian, and all." + +I wouldn't give her anything, and she shouldn't marry Richard, I +thought, as I leaned back in my chair and looked into the fire; a great +silence having fallen on us since the delivery of that piece of news. + +I said I didn't believe it, and yet I'm afraid I did. It was so like a +man to give in at last; at least, like any man but Richard. He had +always liked Charlotte Benson, and known how clever she was, and Sophie +had been so set upon it, (particularly since Richard had had so much +money that he had given her a handsome settlement that nothing would +affect.) And now that Kilian was married and would have the place, +unless Richard wanted it, it was natural that Sophie should approve +Richard having _his_ wife there instead of Kilian having his; Kilian's +being one that nobody particularly approved. + +Yes, it did sound very much like probability. I wasn't given to +self-analysis; but I acknowledged to myself, that I was very much +disappointed, and that if I had known that this was going to happen, I +should have stayed in Europe. + +I had never felt as if there were any chance of Richard marrying any +one; I had not said to myself, that his love for me still had an +existence, nor had I any reason to believe it. But the truth had been, +I had always felt that he belonged to me, and was my right, and I felt a +bitter resentment toward this woman, who was supposed to have usurped my +place. How _dared_ Richard love anybody else! I was angry with him, and +very much hurt, and very, very unhappy. + +Long after Mrs. Throckmorton went to her middle-aged repose, I sat up +and went through imaginary scenes, and reviewed the situation a hundred +times, and tried to convince myself of what I wanted to believe, and +ended without any satisfaction. + +One thing was certain. If Richard was going to marry Charlotte Benson, +he was not going to do it because he loved her. He might not be +prevented from doing it because he loved me; but he did not love her. I +could not say why exactly. But I knew she was not the kind of woman for +him to think of loving, and I would not believe it till I heard it from +himself, and I would hear it from himself at the earliest possible date. +I did not like to be unhappy, and was very impatient to get rid of this, +if it were not true, and to know the worst, at once, if it were. + +"My dear Throcky," I said to my companion, at the breakfast-table, "I +think you'd better go and take dinner with your niece to-day. I've sent +for Mr. Vandermarck to come and dine, and I thought perhaps you'd +rather not be bored; we shall have business to talk about, and business +is such a nuisance when you're not interested in it." + +"Very well, my dear," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with indestructible +good-humor. + +"Or you might have a headache, if you'd rather, and I'll send your +dinner up to you. I'll be sure Susan takes you everything that's nice." + +"Well, then, I think I'll have a headache; I'm afraid I'd rather have it +than one of Mary Ann's poor dinners. (I'd be sure of one to-morrow if +I went.)" + +"Paris things have spoiled you, I'm afraid," I said. "Only see that I +have something nice for Richard, won't you?--How do you think the cook +is going to do?" This was the first sign of interest I had given in the +matter of _ménage_; by which it will be seen I was still a little +selfish, and not very wise. But Throckmorton was a person to cultivate +my selfishness, and there had not been much to develop the wisdom of +common life. + +She promised me a very pretty dinner, no matter at what trouble, and +made me feel quite easy about her wounded feelings. One of the best +features of Throckmorton was, she hadn't any feelings; you might treat +her like a galley-slave, and she would show the least dejection. It was +a temptation to have such a person in the house. + +I had sent a note to Richard which contained the following: + +/# + "DEAR RICHARD: + + "I am sure you will be surprised to know we have returned. + But the fact is, I got very tired of Italy; and we were + disappointed in the apartments we wanted in Berlin, and some + of the people we expected to have with us had to give it up, + and altogether it seemed dull, and we thought it would be + just as pleasant to come home. We were able to get staterooms + that just suited us, and it didn't seem worth while to lose + them by waiting to send word. We had a very comfortable + voyage, and I am glad to find myself at home, though Mrs. + Throckmorton doesn't think the rooms are very nice. I want to + know if you won't come to dinner. We dine at six. Send a line + back by the boy. I want to ask you about some + business matters. + + "Affectionately yours, + + "PAULINE." +#/ + +And I had received for answer: + +/# + "MY DEAR PAULINE: + + "Of course I am astonished to think you are at home. I + enclosed you several letters by the steamer yesterday, none + of them of any very great importance, though, I think. I will + come up at six. + + "Always yours, + + "RICHARD VANDERMARCK. + + "P.S. I am very glad you wanted to come home." +#/ + +I read this letter over a great many times, but it did not enlighten me +at all as to his intentions about marrying Charlotte Benson. It was very +matter-of-fact, but that Richard's letters always were. Evidently he had +thought the same of it himself, as he read it over, and had added the +postscript. But that did not seem very enthusiastic. Altogether I was +not happy, waiting for six o'clock to come. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +A DINNER + + Time and chance are but a tide, + Slighted love is sair to bide. + + +The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the door was +standing open between them, as I walked up and down the parlor, waiting +nervously for Richard to arrive. The fire was bright, and the only light +in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, which we had brought from Italy. +There were flowers on the table, and in two or three vases, and the +curtains were pretty, and there were several large mirrors. Outside, it +was the twilight of a dark autumnal day; almost night already, and the +lamps were lit. It lacked several minutes of six when Richard came. I +felt very much agitated when he entered the room. It was a year and a +half since I had seen him: besides, this piece of news! But he looked +just the same as ever, and I had not the self-possession to note whether +he seemed agitated at meeting me. I do not know exactly what we talked +about for the first few moments, probably I was occupied in trying to +excuse myself for coming home so suddenly, for I found Richard was not +altogether pleased at not having been informed, and thought there must +be something yet to tell. He was not used to feminine caprice, and I +began to feel a good deal ashamed of myself. I had to remind myself, +more than once, that I was not responsible to any one. + +"I just felt like it," was such a very weak explanation to offer to this +grave business-man, for disarranging two years of carefully-laid plans. + +I found I was getting to be a little afraid of Richard: we had been so +long apart, and he had grown so much older. + +"I hope, at least, you are not going to scold me for it," I said at +last, with a little laugh, feeling that was my best way out of it. "I +shall think you are not glad, to see me." + +"I am glad to see you," he said, gravely; "and as to scolding, it's so +long since you've given me an opportunity, I should not know how to +go to work." + +"Do you mean, because I've been away so long, or because I've been so +good?" + +Susan, who had been watching her opportunity, now appeared in the +dining-room door, and said that dinner was on the table. + +Richard asked for Mrs. Throckmorton when we sat down to dinner. I told +him she was dining with her niece. (She had reconsidered the question of +the headache, and had gone to hear more news.) The dinner was very nice, +and very nicely served; but somehow, Richard did not seem to enjoy it +very much, that is, not as I had been in the habit lately of seeing men +enjoy their meals. + +"I am afraid you are getting like Uncle Leonard, and only care about +Wall-street," I said. "I shouldn't wonder if you forgot to order your +dinner half the time, and took the same thing for breakfast every +morning in the year." + +"That's just exactly how it is," he said. "If Sophie did not come down +to my quarters every week or two, and regulate affairs a little, I don't +know where I should be, in the matter of my dinners." + +"How is Sophie?" I said. + +"Very well. I saw her yesterday. I went to put Charley in College for +her." + +"I can't think of Charley as a young man." + +"Yes, Charley is a strapping fellow, within two inches of my height." + +"Impossible! And where is Benny?" + +"At school here in town. His mother will not let him go to +boarding-school. He is a nice boy: I think there's more in him +than Charley." + +"And I hear Kilian is married!" + +"Yes. Kilian is married--the very day you landed, too." + +"Well," I said, with a little dash of temper, "I'm very sorry for you +all. I did not think Kilian was going to be so foolish." + +"He thinks he's very wise, though, all the same," said Richard, with a +smile, which turned into a sigh before he had done speaking. + +"I do dislike her so," I exclaimed, warmly. "There isn't an honest or +straightforward thing about her. She is weak, too; her only strength is +her suppleness and cunning." + +"I know you never liked her," said Richard, gravely; "but I hope you'll +try to think better of her now." + +"I hope I shall never have to see her," I answered, with angry warmth. + +Richard was silent, and I was very much ashamed of myself a moment +after. I had meant him to see how much improved I was, and how well +disciplined. This was a pretty exhibition! I had not spoken so of any +one for a year, at least. I colored with mortification and penitence. +Richard evidently saw it, and felt sorry for me, for he said, +most kindly, + +"I can understand exactly how you feel, Pauline. This marriage is a +great trial to me. I have done all I could to keep Kilian from throwing +himself away, but I might as well have argued with the winds." + +"I don't care how much Kilian throws himself away," I said, impulsively. +"He deserves it for keeping around her all these years. But I do mind +that she is your sister, and that she will be mistress of the house +at R----." + +There was an awful silence then. Heavens! what had I been thinking about +to have said that! I had precipitated the _dénouement_, and I had not +meant to. I did not want to hear it that moment, if he were going to +marry Charlotte Benson, nor did I want to hear it, if he were saving the +old place for me. I felt as if I had given the blow that would bring the +whole structure down, and I waited for the crash in frightened silence. + +In the meantime the business of the table went on. I ate half a chicken +croquette, and Susan placed the salad before Richard, and another plate. +He did not speak till he had put the salad on his plate; then he said, +without looking at me, in a voice a good deal lower than was usual +to him, + +"She is not to be mistress of that house. They will live in town." + +Then I felt cold and chilled to my very heart; it was well that he did +not expect me to speak, for I could not have commanded my voice enough +to have concealed my agitation. I knew very well from that moment that +he was going to marry Charlotte Benson. Something that was said a little +later was a confirmation. + +I had recovered myself enough to talk about ordinary things, and to keep +strictly to them, too. Richard was talking of the great heat of the past +summer. I had said it had been unparalleled in France; had he not found +it very uncomfortable here in town? + +"I have been out of town so much, I can hardly say how it has been +here," he answered. "I was all of August in the country; only coming to +the city twice." + +My heart sank: that was just what they had said; he had been a great +deal at home this summer, and she had been there all the time. + +The dinner was becoming terribly _ennuyant_, and I wished with all my +heart Throckmorton had been contented with just half the courses. +Richard did not seem to enjoy them, and I--I was so wretched I could +scarcely say a word, much less eat a morsel. It had been a great +mistake to invite him to take dinner; it was being too familiar, when he +had put me at such a distance all these years: I wished for Mrs. +Throckmorton with all my heart. Why had I sent her off? Richard was +evidently so constrained, and it was in such bad taste to have asked him +here; it could not help putting thoughts in both our minds, sitting +alone at a table opposite each other, as we should have been sitting +daily if that horrid will had not been found. He had dined with us just +twice before, but that was at dinner-parties, when there had been ever +so many people between us, and when I had not said six words to him +during the whole evening. + +The only excuse I could offer, and that he could understand, would be +that I wanted to talk business to him; I had said in my note that I +wanted to consult him about something, and I must keep that in mind. I +had wanted to ask him about a house I thought of buying, adjoining the +Sisters' Hospital, to enlarge their work; but I was so wicked and +worldly, I felt just then as if I did not care whether they had a house +or not, or whether they did any work. However, I resolved to speak about +it, when we had got away from the table, if we ever did. + +Susan kept bringing dish after dish. + +"Oh, we don't want any of that!" I exclaimed, at last, impatiently; "do +take it away, and tell them to send in the coffee." + +I was resolved upon one thing: Richard should tell me of his engagement +before he went away; it would be dishonorable and unkind if he did not, +and I should make him do it. I was not quite sure that I had +self-control enough not to show how it made me feel, when it came to +hearing it all in so many words. But in very truth, I had not much pride +as regarded him; I felt so sore-hearted and unhappy, I did not care much +whether he knew it or suspected it. + +I could not help remembering how little concealment he had made of his +love for me, even when he knew that all the heart I had was given to +another. I would be very careful not to precipitate the disclosure, +however, while we sat at table; it is so disagreeable to talk to any one +on an agitating subject _vis-à-vis_ across a little dinner-table, with a +bright light overhead, and a servant walking around, able to stop and +study you from any point she pleases. + +Coffee came at last, though even that, Susan was unwilling to look upon +as the legitimate finale, and had her views about liqueur, instructed by +Throckmorton. But I cut it short by getting up and saying, "I'm sure +you'll be glad to go into the parlor; it gets warm so soon in these +little rooms." + +The parlor was very cool and pleasant; a window had been open, and the +air was fresh, and the flowers were delicious, and the lamp was softer +and pleasanter than the gas. I went to break up the coal and make the +fire blaze, and Richard to shut the window down. + +When I had pulled a chair up to the fire and seated myself, he stood +leaning on the mantelpiece, on the other side from me. I felt sure he +meant to go, the minute that he could get away--a committee meeting, no +doubt, or some such nauseous fraud. But he should not go away until he +had told me, that was certain. + +"What is it that you wanted to ask me about, Pauline?" he said, rather +abruptly. + +My heart gave a great thump; how could he have known? Oh, it was the +business that I had spoken of in my stupid note. Yes; and I began to +explain to him what I wanted to do about the hospital. + +He looked infinitely relieved. I believe he had an idea it was something +very different. My explanation could not have added much to his +reverence for my business ability. I was very indefinite, and could not +tell him whether it was hundreds or thousands that I meant. + +He said, with a smile, he thought it must be thousands, as city property +was so very high. He was very kind, however, about the matter, and did +not discourage me at all. He always seemed to approve of my desire to +give away in charity, and, within bounds, always furthered such plans of +doing good. He said he would look into it, and would write me word next +week what his impression was; and then, I think, he meant to go away. + +Then I began talking on every subject I could think of, hoping some of +the roads would lead to Rome. But none of them led there, and I was +in despair. + +"Oh, don't you want to look at some photographs?" I said, at last, +thinking I saw an opening for my wedge. I got the package, and he came +to the table and looked at them, standing up. They were naturally of +much more interest to me than to him, being of places and people with +which I had so lately been familiar. + +But he looked at them very kindly, and asked a good many questions about +them. + +"Look at this," I said, handing him an Antwerp peasant-woman in her +hideous bonnet. "Isn't that ridiculously like Charlotte Benson? I bought +it because it was so singular a resemblance." + +"It is like her," he said, thoughtfully, looking at it long. "The mouth +is a little larger and the eyes further apart. But it is a most striking +likeness. It might almost have been taken for her." + +"How is she, and when have you seen her?" I said, a little choked for +breath. + +"She is very well. I saw her yesterday," he answered, still looking at +the little picture. + +"Was she with Sophie this summer?" + +"Yes, for almost two months." + +"I hope she doesn't keep everybody in order as sharply as she used to?" +I said, with a bitter little laugh. + +"I don't know," he said. "I think, perhaps, she is rather less decided +than she used to be." + +"Oh, you call it decision, do you? Well, I'm glad I know what it is. I +used to think it hadn't such a pretty name as that." + +Richard looked grave; it certainly was not a graceful way to lead up to +congratulations. + +"But then, you always liked her," I said. + +"Yes, I always liked her," he answered, simply. + +"I'm afraid I'm not very amiable," I retorted, "for I never liked her: +no better even than that fraudulent Mary Leighton, clever and sensible +as she always was. There is such a thing as being too clever, and too +sensible, and making yourself an offence to all less admirable people." + +Richard was entirely silent, and, I was sure, was disapproving of me +very much. + +"Do you know what I heard yesterday?" I said, In a daring way. "And I +hope you're going to tell me if it's true, to-night?" + +"What was it that you heard yesterday?" he asked, without much change of +tone. He had laid down the photograph, and had gone back, and was +leaning by the mantelpiece again. + +"Why, I heard that you were going to marry Charlotte Benson. Is it +true?" + +I had pushed away the pile of photographs from me, and had looked up at +him when I began, but my voice and courage rather failed before the end, +and my eyes fell. There was a silence--a silence that seemed to +stifle me. + +"Why do you ask me that question?" he said, at last, in a low voice. "Do +you believe I am, yourself?" + +"No," I cried, springing up, and going over to his side. "No, I don't +believe it. Tell me it isn't true, and promise me you won't ever, ever +marry Charlotte Benson." + +The relief was so unspeakable that I didn't care what I said, and the +joy I felt showed itself in my face and voice. I put out my hand to him +when I said "promise me," but he did not take it, and turned his head +away from me. + +"I shall not marry Charlotte Benson," he said; "but I cannot understand +what difference it makes to you." + +It was now my turn to be silent, and I shrank back a step or two in +great confusion. + +He raised his head, and looked steadily at me for a moment, and then +said: + +"Pauline, you did a great many things, but I don't think you ever +willingly deceived me. Did you?" + +I shook my head without looking lip. + +"Then be careful what you do now, and let the past alone," he said, and +his voice was almost stern. + +I trembled, and turned pale. + +"Women sometimes play with dangerous weapons," he said; "I don't accuse +you of meaning to give pain, but only of forgetting that some +recollections are not to you what they are to me. I never want to +interfere with any one's comfort or enjoyment; I only want to be let +alone. I do very well, and am not unhappy. About marrying, now or ever, +I should have thought you would have known. But let me tell you once for +all: I haven't any thought of it, and shall not ever have. It is not +that I am holding to any foolish hopes. It would be exactly the same if +you were married, or had died. It simply isn't in my nature to feel the +same way a second time. People are made differently, that is all. I'm +very well contented, and you need never let it worry you." + +He was very pale now, and his eyes had an expression I had never seen in +them before. + +"Richard," I said, faintly, "I never _have_ deceived you: believe me now +when I tell you, I am sorry from my heart for all that's past." + +"You told me so before, and I did forgive you. I forgave you fully, and +have never had a thought that wasn't kind." + +"I know it," I said. "But you do not trust me--you don't ever come near +me, or want to see me." + +"You do not know what you are talking of," he answered, turning from me. +"I forgive you anything you may have done at any time to give me pain. I +will do everything I can to serve you, in every way I can; only do not +stir up the past, and let me forget the little of it that I can forget." + +I burst into tears, and put my hands before my face. + +"What is it?" he said, uneasily. "You need not be troubled about me." + +Seeing that I did not stop, he said again, "Tell me: is it that that +troubles you?" + +I shook my head. + +"What is it, then? Something that I do not know about? Pauline, you are +unhappy, and yet you've everything in the world to make you happy. I +often think, there are not many women have as much." + +"The poorest of them are better off than I," I said, without raising my +head. + +"Then you are ungrateful," he said, "for you have youth, and health, and +money, and everybody likes you. You could choose from all the world." + +"No, I couldn't," I exclaimed, like a child; "and everybody doesn't like +me,"--and then I cried again, for I was really in despair, and thought +he meant to put me away, memory and all. + +"Well, if that's your trouble," he said, with a sigh, "I suppose I +cannot help you; but I'm very sorry." + +"Yes, you _can_ help me," I cried imploringly, forgetting all I ought to +have remembered; "if you only would forgive me, really and in earnest, +and be friends again--and let me try--" and I covered my face with +my hands. + +"Pauline," he said, standing by my side, and his voice almost frightened +me, it was so strong with feeling; "is this a piece of sentiment? Do you +mean anything? Or am I to be trifled with again?" + +He took hold of my wrists with both his hands, with such force as to +give me pain, and drew them from my face. + +"Look at me," he said, "and tell me what you mean; and decide +now--forever and forever. For this is the last time that you will have a +chance to say." + +"It's all very well," I said, trying to turn my face away from him. +"It's all very well to talk about loving me yet, and being just the +same; but this isn't the way you used to talk, and I think it's +very hard--" + +"That isn't answering me," he said, holding me closer to him. + +"What shall I say," I whispered, hiding my face upon his arm. "Nothing +will ever satisfy you." + +"Nothing ever _has_ satisfied me," he said, "--before." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD VANDERMARCK*** + + +******* This file should be named 12348-8.txt or 12348-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/4/12348 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Richard Vandermarck</p> +<p>Author: Miriam Coles Harris</p> +<p>Release Date: May 14, 2004 [eBook #12348]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: iso-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD VANDERMARCK***</p> +<br> +<br> +<center><h3>E-text prepared by Curtis Weyant, Charlie Kirschner,<br> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>RICHARD VANDERMARCK.</h1> +<h3>A NOVEL.</h3> +<h2>By MRS. SIDNEY S. HARRIS,</h2> +<br> +<h4>AUTHOR OF "RUTLEDGE," "ST. PHILLIPS,"</h4> +<h4>ETC., ETC.</h4> +<h5>1871.</h5> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h2>To S.S.H.</h2> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<br> +<center><a href="#CHAPTER_I.">CHAPTER I. VARICK-STREET</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II.">CHAPTER II. VERY GOOD LUCK</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III.">CHAPTER III. KILIAN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV.">CHAPTER IV. MY COMPANIONS</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V.">CHAPTER V. THE TUTOR</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI.">CHAPTER VI. MATINAL</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII.">CHAPTER VII. THREE WEEKS TOO LATE</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII.">CHAPTER VIII. SUNDAY</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX.">CHAPTER IX. A DANCE</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X.">CHAPTER X. EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO +SEVEN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI.">CHAPTER XI. SOPHIE'S WORK</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII.">CHAPTER XII. PRAEMONITUS, +PRAEMUNITUS</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII.">CHAPTER XIII. THE WORLD GOES ON THE +SAME</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV.">CHAPTER XIV. GUARDED</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV.">CHAPTER XV. I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI.">CHAPTER XVI. AUGUST THIRTIETH</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII.">CHAPTER XVII. BESIDE HIM ONCE +AGAIN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII.">CHAPTER XVIII. A JOURNEY</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX.">CHAPTER XIX. SISTER MADELINE</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX.">CHAPTER XX. THE HOUR OF DAWN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI.">CHAPTER XXI. APRÉS PERDRE, PERD ON +BIEN</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII.">CHAPTER XXII. A GREAT DEAL TOO +SOON</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII.">CHAPTER XXIII. A REVERSAL</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV.">CHAPTER XXIV. MY NEW WORLD</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV.">CHAPTER XXV. BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI.">CHAPTER XXVI. A DINNER</a></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>RICHARD VANDERMARCK.</h2> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I."></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h3>VARICK STREET.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>O for one spot of living green,<br> + One little spot where leaves can grow,--<br> +To love unblamed, to walk unseen,<br> + To dream above, to sleep below!<br> +<br> +<i>Holmes</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +There are in this loud stunning tide,<br> + Of human care and crime,<br> +With whom the melodies abide<br> + Of th' everlasting chime;<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<br> +<br> +And to wise hearts this certain hope is given;<br> +"No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven."<br> +<br> +<i>Keble.</i></blockquote> +<br> +<p>I never knew exactly how the invitation came; I felt very much +honored by it, though I think now, very likely the honor was felt +to be upon the other side. I was exceedingly young, and exceedingly +ignorant, not seventeen, and an orphan, living in the house of an +uncle, an unmarried man of nearly seventy, wholly absorbed in +business, and not much more interested in me than in his clerks and +servants.</p> +<p>I had come under his protection, a little girl of two years old, +and had been in his house ever since. I had had as good care as a +very ordinary class of servants could give me, and was supplied +with some one to teach me, and had as much money to spend as was +good for me--perhaps more; and I do not feel inclined to say my +uncle did not do his duty, for I do not think he knew of anything +further to do; and strictly speaking, I had no claim on him, for I +was only a great-niece, and there were those living who were more +nearly related to me, and who were abundantly able to provide for +me, if they had been willing to do it.</p> +<p>When I came in to the household, its wants were attended to by a +cook and a man-servant, who had lived many years with my uncle. A +third person was employed as my nurse, and a great deal of +quarrelling was the result of her coming. I quite wonder my uncle +did not put me away at board somewhere, rather than be disturbed. +But in truth, I do not believe that the quarrelling disturbed him +much, or that he paid much attention to the matter, and so the +matter settled itself. My nurses were changed very often, by will +of the cook and old Peter, and I never was happy enough to have one +who had very high principle, or was more than ordinarily +good-tempered.</p> +<p>I don't know who selected my teachers; probably they applied for +employment and were received. They were very business-like and +unsuggestive people. I was of no more interest to them than a bale +of goods, I believe. Indeed, I seemed likely to go a bale of goods +through life; everything that was done for me was done for money, +and with a view to the benefit of the person serving me. I was not +sent to school, which was a very great pity; it was owing to the +fact, no doubt, that somebody applied to my uncle to teach me at +home, and so the system was inaugurated, and never received a +second thought, and I went on being taught at home till I was +seventeen.</p> +<p>The "home" was as follows; a large dark house on the unsunny +side of a dull street; furniture that had not been changed for +forty years, walls that were seldom repainted, windows that were +rarely opened. The neighborhood had been for many years +unfashionable and undesirable, and, by the time I was grown up, +nobody would have lived in it, who had cared to have a cheerful +home, I might almost have said, a respectable one, I fancy ours was +nearly the only house in the block occupied by its owner; the +others, equally large, were rented for tenement houses, or +boarding-houses, and perhaps for many things worse. It was probably +owing to this fact, that my uncle gave orders, once for all, I was +never to go into the street alone; and I believe, in my whole life, +I had never taken a walk unaccompanied by a servant, or one of my +teachers.</p> +<p>A very dull life indeed. I wonder how I endured it. The rooms +were so dismal, the windows so uneventful. If it had not been for a +room in the garret where I had my playthings, and where the sun +came all day long, I am sure I should have been a much worse and +more unhappy child. As I grew older, I tried to adorn my room (my +own respectable sleeping room, I mean), with engravings, and the +little ornaments that I could buy. But it was a hopeless attempt. +The walls were so high and so dingy, the little pictures were lost +upon them; and the vases on the great black mantel-shelf looked so +insignificant, I felt ashamed of them, and owned the unfitness of +decorating such a room. No flowers would grow in those cold north +windows--no bird would sing in sight of such a street. I gave it up +with a sigh; and there was one good instinct lost.</p> +<p>When I was about eleven, I fell foul of some good books. If it +had not been for them, I truly do not see how I could have known +that I was not to lie or steal, and that God was to be worshipped. +Certainly, I had had hands slapped many times for taking things I +had been forbidden to touch, and had had many a battle in +consequence of "telling stories," with the servants of the house, +but I had always recognized the personal spite of the punishments, +and they had not carried with them any moral lesson.</p> +<p>I had sometimes gone to church; but the sermons in large city +churches are not generally elementary, and I did not understand +those that I heard at all. Occasionally I went with the nurse to +Vespers, and that I thought delightful. I was enraptured with the +pictures, the music, the rich clothes of the priests; if it had not +been for the bad odor of the neighboring worshippers, I think I +might have rushed into the bosom of the Church of Rome. But that +offended sense restrained me. And so, as I said, if I had not +obtained access to some books of holy and pure influence, and been +starved by the dullness of the life around me into taking hold of +them with eagerness, I should have led the life of a little heathen +in the midst of light. Of course the books were not written for my +especial case, nor were they books for children,--and so, much was +supposed, and not expressed, and consequently the truth they +imparted to me was but fragmentary. But it was truth, and the +influence was holy.</p> +<p>I was driven to books; I do not believe I had any more desire +than most vivid, palpitating, fluttering young things of my sex, to +pore over a dull black and white page; but this black and white +gate opened to me golden fields of happiness, while I was perishing +of hunger in a life of dreary fact.</p> +<p>When I was about sixteen, however, an outside human influence, +not written in black and white, came into the current of my +existence. About that time, my uncle took into his firm, as junior +partner, a young man who had long been a clerk in the house. After +his promotion he often came home with my uncle to dinner. I think +this was done, perhaps, with a view of civil treatment, on the +first occasion; but afterward, it was continued because my uncle +could not bear to leave business when he left the office, and +because he could talk on the matters which were dearer to him than +his dinner, with this junior, in whom he took unqualified delight. +He often wrote letters in the evening, which my uncle dictated, and +he sometimes did not go away till eleven o'clock at night. The +first time he came, I did not notice him very much. It was not +unusual for Uncle Leonard to be accompanied by some gentleman who +talked business with him during dinner; and being naturally shy, +and moreover, on this occasion, in the middle of a very interesting +book, at once timid and indifferent, I slipped away from the table +the moment that I could. But upon the third or fourth occasion of +his being there, I became interested, finding often a pair of +handsome eyes fixed on me, and being occasionally addressed and +made a partner in the conversation. Uncle Leonard very rarely +talked to me, and I think found me in the way when Richard +Vandermarck made the talk extend to me.</p> +<p>But this was the beginning of a very much improved era for me. I +lost my shyness, and my fear of Uncle Leonard, and indeed, I think, +my frantic thirst for books, and became quite a young lady. We were +great friends; he brought me books, he told me about other people, +he opened a thousand doors of interest and pleasure to me. I never +can enumerate all I owed to him. My dull life was changed, and the +house owed him gratitude.</p> +<p>We began to have the gas lighted in the parlor, and even Uncle +Leonard came in there sometimes and sat after dinner, before he +went up into that dreary library above. I think he rather enjoyed +hearing us talk gayly across his sombre board; he certainly became +softer and more human toward me after Richard came to be so +constantly a guest. He gave me more money to spend, (that was +always the expression of his feelings, his language, so to speak;) +he made various inquiries and improvements about the house. The +dinners themselves were improved, for a horrible monotony had crept +into the soups and sauces of forty years; and Uncle Leonard was no +epicure; he seemed to have no more stomach than he had heart; brain +and pocket made the man.</p> +<p>I think unconsciously he was much influenced by Richard, whose +business talent had charmed him, and to whom he looked for much +that he knew he must soon lose. He was glad to make the house seem +pleasant to him, and he was much gratified by his frequent coming. +And Richard was peculiarly a man to like and to lean upon. Not in +any way brilliant, and with no literary tastes, he was well +educated enough, and very well informed; a thorough business man. I +think he was ordinarily reserved, but our intercourse had been so +unconventional, that I did not think him so at all. He was rather +good-looking, tall and square-shouldered, with light-brown hair and +fine dark-blue eyes; he had a great many points of advantage.</p> +<p>One day, long after he had become almost a member of the +household, he told me he wanted me to know his sister, and that she +would come the next day to see me, if I would like it. I did like +it, and waited for her with impatience. He had told me a great deal +about her, and I was full of curiosity to see her. She was a little +older than Richard, and the only sister; very pretty, and quite a +person of consequence in society. She had made an unfortunate +marriage, though of that Richard said very little to me; but with +better luck than attends most unfortunately-married, women, she was +released by her husband's early death, and was free to be happy +again, with some pretty boys, a moderate fortune, and two brothers +to look after her investments, and do her little errands for her. +She considered herself fortunate; and was a widow of rare +discretion, in that she was wedded to her unexpected independence, +and never intended to be wedded to anything or anybody else. She +was naturally cool and calculating, and was in no danger of being +betrayed by her feelings into any other course of life than the one +she had marked out as most expedient. If she was worldly, she was +also useful, intelligent, and popular, and a paragon in her +brother's partial eyes.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II."></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<h3>VERY GOOD LUCK.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Mieux vaut une once de fortune qu'une livre de +sagesse.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>At last (on the day on which Richard had advertised me she was +coming,) the door was opened, and some one was taken to the parlor. +Then old Peter rang a bell which stood on the hall table, and +called out to Ann Coddle (once my nurse, now the seamstress, +chambermaid, and general lightener of his toils), to tell Miss +Pauline a lady wanted her.</p> +<p>This bell was to save his old bones; he never went up-stairs, +and he resented every visitor as an innovation. They were so few, +his temper was not much tried. I was leaning over the stairs when +the bell rang, and did not need a second message. Ann, who +continued to feel a care for my personal appearance, followed me to +the landing-place and gave my sash a last pull.</p> +<p>When I found myself in the parlor I began to experience a little +embarrassment. Mrs. Hollenbeck was so pretty and her dress was so +dainty, the dingy, stiff, old parlor filled me with dismay. +Fortunately, I did not think much of myself or my own dress. But +after a little, she put me at ease, that is, drew me out and made +me feel like talking to her.</p> +<p>I admired her very much, but I did not feel any of the affection +and quick cordiality with which Richard had inspired me. I could +tell that she was curious about me, and was watching me +attentively, and though she was so charming that I felt flattered +by her interest, I was not pleased when I remembered my interview +with her.</p> +<p>"You are not at all like your brother," I said, glancing in her +face with frankness.</p> +<p>"No?" she said smilingly, and looking attentively at me with an +expression which I did not understand.</p> +<p>And then she drew me on to speak of all his features, which I +did with the utmost candor, showing great knowledge of the +subject.</p> +<p>"And you," she said, "you do not look at all as I supposed. You +are not nearly so young--Richard told me you were quite a child. I +was not prepared for this grace; this young ladyhood--'cette taille +de palmier,'" she added, with a little sweep of the hand.</p> +<p>Somehow I was not pleased to feel that Richard had talked of me +to her, though I liked it that he had talked of her to me. No doubt +she saw it, for I was lamentably transparent. "Do you lead a quiet +life, or have you many friends?" she said, as if she did not know +exactly the kind of life I led, and as if she had not come for the +express purpose of helping me out of it, at the instance of her +kindly brother. Then, of course, I told her all about my dull days, +and she pitied me, and said lightly it must not be, and I must see +more of the world, and she, for her part, must know me better, +etc., etc. And then she went away.</p> +<p>In a few days, I went with Ann Coddle, in a carriage, to return +the visit. The house was small, but in a beautiful, bright street, +and the one window near the door was full of ferns and ivies. I did +not get in, which was a disappointment to me, particularly as I had +no printed card, and realized keenly all the ignominy of leaving +one in writing. This was in April, and I saw no more of my new +friend. Richard was away, on some business of the firm, and the +days were very dull indeed.</p> +<p>In May he came back, and resumed the dinners, and the evenings +in the parlor, though not quite with the frequency of the past +winter,--and I think there was the least shade of constraint in his +manner. It was on one of these May days that he came and took me to +the Park. It was a great occasion; I had never been so happy before +in my life. I was in great doubt about taking Ann Coddle; never +having been out of the house without a person of that description +in attendance before. But Ann got a suspicion of my doubt and +settled it, to go--of course. I think Richard was rather chagrined +when she followed us out to get into the carriage; she was so +dried-up and shrewish-looking, and wore such an Irish bonnet. But +she preserved a discreet silence, and looked steadfastly out of the +carriage window, so we soon forgot that she was there, though she +was directly opposite to us. It was Saturday; the day was fresh and +lovely, and there were crowds of people driving in the Park. Once +we left the carriage with Ann Coddle in it, and went to hear the +music. It was while we were sitting for a few moments under the +vines to listen to it, and watch the gay groups of people around +us, that a carriage passed within a dozen feet, and a lady leaned +out and bowed with smiles.</p> +<p>"Why, see--it is your sister!" I exclaimed, with the vivacity of +a person of a very limited acquaintance.</p> +<p>"Ah," he said, and raised his hat carelessly. But I saw he was +not pleased; he pushed the end of his moustache into his mouth, and +bit it, as he always did when out of humor, and very soon proposed +we should go back and find the carriage. It was not long, however, +before he recovered from this annoyance, as he had from the +unexpected pleasure of Ann's company; and, I am sure, was as sorry +as I when it was time to go home to dinner.</p> +<p>He stayed and dined with us; another gentleman had come home +with my uncle, who talked well and amused us very much. I was +excited and in high spirits; altogether, it was a very happy +day.</p> +<p>It was more than a week after this, that the invitation came +which turned the world upside down at once, and made me most +extravagantly happy. It was from Mrs. Hollenbeck, and I was asked +to spend part of June and all of July and August, with them at +R----.</p> +<p>At R---- was their old family home, a place of very little +pretension, but to which they were much attached. When the father +died, five years before, the two sons had bought the place, or +rather had taken it as their share, turning over the more +productive property to their sister.</p> +<p>They had been very reluctant to close the house, and it was +decided that Sophie should go there every summer, and take her +servants from the city; the expenses of the place being borne by +the two young men. They were very well able to do it, as both were +successful in business, and keeping open the old home, with no +diminution of the hospitality of their father's time, was perhaps +the greatest pleasure that they had. It was an arrangement which +suited Sophie admirably. It gave her the opportunity to entertain +pleasantly and informally; it was a capital summer-home for her two +boys; it was in the centre of an agreeable neighborhood; and above +all, it gave her yearly-exhausted purse time to recuperate and +swell again before the winter's drain. Of course she loved the +place, too, but not with the simple affection that her two brothers +did. The young men invited their friends there without restriction, +as was to be supposed; and Sophie was a gay and agreeable hostess. +No one could have made the house pleasanter than she did; and she +left nothing undone to gratify her brothers' tastes and wishes, +like a wise and prudent woman as she was.</p> +<p>I did not know all this then, or my invitation might not have +overwhelmed me with such gratitude to her. I reproached myself for +not having loved her the first time I saw her.</p> +<p>Three months! Three happy months in the country! I could hardly +believe it possible such a thing had happened to me. I took the +note to my uncle without much fear of his opposition, for he rarely +opposed anything that I had the courage to ask him, except going in +the street alone. (I believe my mother had made a runaway match, +and I think he had faith in inherited traits; his one resolution +regarding me must have been, not to give me a chance.) He read the +note carefully, and then looked me over with more interest than +usual, and told me I might go. Afterward he gave me a roll of +bills, and told me to come to him for more money, if I needed +it.</p> +<p>I was much excited about my clothes. I could not think that +anything was good enough to go to R----; and I am afraid I spent a +good deal of my uncle's money. Ann Coddle and the cook thought that +my dresses were magnificent, and old Peter groaned over the coming +of the packages. I had indeed a wardrobe fit for a young princess, +and in very good taste besides, because I was born with that. An +inheritance, no doubt. And my uncle never complained at all about +the bills. I seemed to have become, in some way, a person of +considerable importance in the house. Ann Coddle no more fretted at +me, but waited on me with alacrity. The cook ceased to bully me, +and on the contrary, flattered me outrageously. I remembered the +long years of bullying, and put no faith in her assurances. I did +not know exactly why this change had happened, but supposed it +might be the result of having become a young lady, and being +invited to pay visits.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III."></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<h3>KILIAN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>You are well made--have common sense,<br> +And do not want for impudence.<br> + +<i>Faust</i>.<br> +<br> + <i>Tanto buen die val niente.<br> +<br> + Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui +l'admire</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>The packages finally ceased coming and the stiff old bell from +being pulled; but only half an hour before the carriage drove to +the door that was to take me to the boat. Ann Coddle was flying up +and down the stairs, and calling messages over to Peter in a shrill +voice. She was not designed by nature for a lady's maid, and was a +very disagreeable person to have about one's room. She made me even +more nervous than I should otherwise have been. I had never packed +a trunk before, or had one packed, and might have thought it a very +simple piece of business if Ann had not made such a mountain of it; +packing every tray half a dozen times over, and going down-stairs +three times about every article that was to come up from the +laundry.</p> +<p>Happily she was not to go with me any farther than the boat. +Richard was away again on business--had been gone, indeed, since +the day after we had driven in the Park: so I was to be put on +board the boat, and left in charge of Kilian, his younger brother, +who had called at my uncle's office, and made the arrangement with +him. I had never seen Kilian, and the meeting filled me with +apprehension; my uncle, however, sent up one of his clerks in the +carriage to take me to the boat, and put me in charge of this young +gentleman. This considerate action on the part of my uncle seemed +to fill up the measure of my surprises.</p> +<p>When we reached the boat, the clerk, a respectful youth, +conducted me to the upper deck, and then left me with Ann, while he +went down about the baggage.</p> +<p>With all our precautions, we were rather late, for the last bell +was ringing; Ann was in a fever of impatience, and I was quite +uncertain what to do, the clerk not having returned, and Mr. Kilian +Vandermarck not having yet appeared. Ann was so disagreeable, and +so disturbing to all thinking, that I had more than once to tell +her to be quiet. Matters seemed to have reached a crisis. The man +at the gangway was shouting "all aboard;" the whistle was blowing; +the bell was ringing; Ann was whimpering; when a belated-looking +young man with a book and paper under his arm came up the stairs +hurriedly and looked around with anxiety. As soon as his eye fell +on us, he looked relieved, and walked directly up to me, and called +me by name, interrogatively.</p> +<p>"O yes," I said eagerly, "but do get this woman off the boat or +we'll have to take her with us." "Oh, no danger," he said, "plenty +of time," and he took her toward the stairs, at the head of which +she was met by the clerk, who touched his hat to me, handed the +checks to Mr. Vandermarck, then hurried off with Ann. Mr. +Vandermarck returned to me, but I was so engrossed looking over the +side of the boat and watching for Ann and the clerk, that I took no +notice of him.</p> +<p>At last I saw Ann scramble on the wharf, just before the plank +was drawn in; with a sigh of relief I turned away.</p> +<p>"I want to apologize for being so late," he said.</p> +<p>"Why, it is not any matter," I answered, "only I had not the +least idea what to do."</p> +<p>"You are not used to travelling alone, then, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"Oh no," nor to travelling any way, for the matter of that, I +added to myself; but not aloud, for I had a great fear that it +should be known how very limited my experience was.</p> +<p>"You must let me take your shawl and bag, and we will go and get +a comfortable seat," he said in a few moments. We went forward and +found comfortable chairs under an awning, and where there was a +fine breeze. It was a warm afternoon, and the change from the +heated and glaring wharf was delightful. Mr. Vandermarck threw +himself back in his chair with an expression of relief, and took +off his straw hat.</p> +<p>"If you had been in Wall-street since ten o'clock this morning +you would be prepared to enjoy this sail," he said.</p> +<p>"Is Wall-street so very much more disagreeable than other +places? I think my uncle regrets every moment that he spends away +from it."</p> +<p>"Ah, yes. Mr. Greer may; he has a good deal to make him like it; +if I made as much money as he does every day there, I think it's +possible I might like it too. But it is a different matter with a +poor devil like me: if I get off without being cheated out of all +I've got, it is as much as I can ask."</p> +<p>"Well, perhaps when he was your age, Uncle Leonard did not ask +more than that."</p> +<p>"Not he; he began, long before he was as old as I am, to do what +I can never learn to do, Miss d'Esirée--make money with one +hand and save it with the other. Now, I'm ashamed to say, a great +deal of money comes into my pockets, but it never stays there long +enough to give me the feeling that I'm a rich man. One gets into a +way of living that's destruction to all chances of a fortune."</p> +<p>"But what's the good of a fortune if you don't enjoy it?" I +said, thinking of the dreary house in Varick-street.</p> +<p>"No good," he said. "It isn't in my nature to be satisfied with +the knowledge that I've got enough to make me happy locked up +somewhere in a safe: I must get it out, and strew it around in +sight in the shape of horses, pictures, nice rooms, and good things +to eat, before I can make up my mind that the money is good for +anything. Now as to Richard, he is just the other way: old head on +young shoulders, old pockets in young breeches (only there ar'nt +any holes in them). He's a model of prudence, is my brother +Richard. <i>Qui garde son diner, il a mieux à souper</i>. +He'll be a rich man one of these fine days. I look to him to keep +me out of jail. You know Richard very well, I believe?" he said, +turning a sudden look on me, which would have been very +disconcerting to an older person, or one more acquainted with the +world.</p> +<p>"O, very well indeed," I said with great simplicity. "You know +he is such a favorite with my uncle, and he is a great deal at the +house."</p> +<p>"Well he may be a favorite, for he is built exactly on his +model; at seventy, if I am not hung for debt before I reach it, I +shall look to see him just a second Mr. Leonard Greer."</p> +<p>I made a gesture of dissent. "I don't think he is in the least +like Uncle Leonard, and I don't think he cares at all for +money."</p> +<p>"O, Miss Pauline, don't you believe him if he says he doesn't. +I'm his younger brother, whom he has lectured and been hard on for +these twenty-seven years, and I know more about it than anybody +else."</p> +<p>"Why, is Mr. Richard Vandermarck twenty-seven years old?" I said +with much surprise.</p> +<p>"Twenty-nine his next birthday, and I am twenty-seven. Why, did +he pass himself off for younger? That's an excellent thing against +him."</p> +<p>"No; he did not pass himself off for anything in the matter of +age. It was only my idea about him. I thought he was not more than +twenty-five, perhaps even younger than that. But then I had nobody +but Uncle Leonard to compare him with, and it isn't strange that I +didn't get quite right."</p> +<p>"It <i>is</i> something of a step from Mr. Greer to Richard, I +must say. Mr. Greer seems so much the oldest man in the world, and +Richard--well, Richard isn't that, but he is a good deal older than +he ought to be. But do you tell me, Miss Pauline, you havn't any +younger fellows than Richard on your cards? Do they keep you as +quiet as all that in Varick-street?"</p> +<p>I knew by intuition this was impertinence, and no doubt I looked +annoyed, and Mr. Vandermarck hastened to obliterate the impression +by a very rapid movement upon the scenery, the beauties of the +river, and many things as novel.</p> +<p>The three hours of our sail passed away pleasantly. Mr. +Vandermarck did not move from his seat; did not even read his +paper, though I gave him an opportunity by turning over the leaves +of my "Littel" on the occurrence of every pause.</p> +<p>I felt that I knew him quite well before the journey was over, +and I liked him exceedingly, almost as well as Richard. He was +rather handsomer than Richard, not so tall, but more vivacious and +more amusing, much more so. I began to think Richard rather dull +when I contrasted him with his brother.</p> +<p>When we reached the wharf, Mr. Vandermarck, after disposing of +the baggage, gave his arm to me, and took me to an open wagon which +was waiting for us. He put me in the seat beside him, and took the +reins with a look of pleasure.</p> +<p>"These are Tom and Jerry, Miss Pauline," he said, "about the +pleasantest members of the family; at least they contribute more to +my pleasure than any other members of it. I squandered about half +my income on them a year or two ago, and have not repented yet; +though, indeed, repentance isn't in my way. I shall hope for the +happiness of giving you many drives with them, if I am +permitted."</p> +<p>"Nothing could make me happier, I am sure."</p> +<p>"Richard hasn't any horses, though he can afford it much better +than I can. He does his driving, when he is here, with the +carriage-horses that we keep for Sophie--a dull old pair of brutes. +He disapproves very much of Tom and Jerry; but you see it would +never do to have two such wise heads in one family."</p> +<p>"It would destroy the balance of power in the neighborhood."</p> +<p>"Decidedly; as it is, we are a first-class power, owing to +Sophie's cleverness and Richard's prudence; my prodigality is just +needed to keep us from overrunning the county and proclaiming an +empire at the next town meeting. How do you like Sophie, Miss +d'Estrée? I know you haven't seen much of her--but what you +have? Isn't she clever, and isn't she a pretty woman to be nearly +thirty-five?"</p> +<p>I was feeling very grateful for my invitation, and so I said a +great deal of my admiration for his sister.</p> +<p>"Everybody likes her," he said, complacently. "I don't know a +more popular person anywhere. She is the life of the neighborhood; +people come to her for everything, if they want to get a new +door-mat for the school-house, or if they want a new man nominated +for the legislature. I think she's awfully bored, sometimes, but +she keeps it to herself. But though the summer is her rest, she +always does enough to tire out anybody else. Now, for instance, she +is going to have three young ladies with her for the next two +months (besides yourself, Miss d'Estrée), whom she will have +to be amusing all the time, and some friends of mine who will turn +the house inside out. But Sophie never grumbles."</p> +<p>"Tell me about them all," I said, consuming with a fever of +curiosity.</p> +<p>"O, I forgot you did not know them. Shall I begin with the young +ladies?--(Sam, there's a stone in Jerry's off fore-foot; get down +and look about it--Steady!--there, I knew it)--Excuse me, Miss +d'Estrée. Well,--the young ladies. There's one of our +cousins, a grand, handsome, sombre, estimable girl, whom nobody +ever flirts with, but whom somebody will marry. That's Henrietta +Palmer. Then there is Charlotte Benson--not pretty, but stylish and +so clever. She carries too many guns for most men; she is a capital +girl in her way. Then there is Mary Leighton; she is small, blonde, +lovely. I do not believe in her particularly, but we are great +friends, and flirt a little, I am told. I quite wonder how you will +like each other. I hope you will tell me your impressions. No doubt +she will be rather your companion, for Henrietta and Charlotte +Benson are desperately intimate, and have a room together. They are +quite romantic and very superior. Pretty Miss Leighton isn't in +their line exactly, and is rather left to her own reflections, I +should think. But she makes up for it when the gentlemen appear; +she isn't left with any time upon her hands, you may be sure. I +don't know what it is about her; she never said a bright thing in +her life, and a great, great many silly ones; but everybody wants +to talk to her, and her silly words are precious to the man to whom +she says them. Did you ever meet anybody like her?"</p> +<p>"I? oh no. I never met anybody," I said, half-bitterly, +beginning to be afraid of the people whom I so soon should meet; +and then I began to talk about the road, and to inquire how far we +had yet to drive, and to ask to have a shawl about my shoulders. It +was not yet seven o'clock, but the country air was fresh and cool, +and the rapid driving made it cooler.</p> +<p>"We are almost there; and I hope, Miss d'Estrée, that you +won't feel as if you were going among strangers. You will not feel +so long, at any rate. It is too bad Richard isn't here; you know +him so much better than the rest of us. But before he comes back, I +am sure you will feel as much at home as he. But here's the +gate."</p> +<p>There was a drive of perhaps an eighth of a mile from the gate +to the house: the trees and hedge were thick, so that one saw +little of the house from the road. The grounds were well kept; +there was a nice lawn, in front of the house, and some very fine +old trees. The house was low and irregular, but quite picturesque. +It fronted the road; the rear looked toward the river, about +quarter of a mile distant, and of which the view was lovely.</p> +<p>There was a piazza in front, on which four ladies stood; one of +them came forward, and came down the steps, and met me as I got out +of the carriage. That, of course, was Mrs. Hollenbeck, She welcomed +me very cordially, and led me up the steps of the piazza, where the +young ladies stood. Terrible young ladies! I shook with fear of +them. I felt as if I did not know anything, as if I did not look +well, as if my clothes were hideous. I should not have been afraid +of young or old men, nor of old women; but they were just my age, +just my class, just my equals, or ought to have been, if I had had +any other fate than Uncle Leonard and Varick-street. How they would +criticize me! How soon they would find out I had never been +anywhere before! I wished for Richard then with all my heart. +Kilian had already deserted me, and was talking to Miss Leighton, +who had come half-way down the steps to meet him, and who only gave +me a glance and a very pretty smile and nod, when Mrs. Hollenbeck +presented me to them. Miss Benson and Miss Palmer each gave me a +hand, and looked me over horribly; and the tones of their voices, +when they spoke to me, were so constrained and cold, and so +different from the tones in which they addressed each other. I +hated them.</p> +<p>After a few moments of wretchedness, Sophie proposed to take me +to my room. We went up the stairs, which were steep and +old-fashioned, with a landing-place almost like a little room. My +room was in a wing of the house, over the dining-room, and the +windows looked out on the river. It was not large, but was very +pretty. The windows were curtained, and the bed was dainty, and the +little mantel was draped, and the ornaments and pictures were +quaint and delightful to my taste.</p> +<p>Sophie laid the shawls she had been carrying up for me upon the +bed, and said she hoped I would find everything I needed, and would +try to feel entirely at home, and not hesitate to ask for anything +that would make me comfortable.</p> +<p>Nothing could be kinder, but my affection and gratitude were +fast dying out, and I was quite sure of one thing, namely, that I +never should love Sophie if she spent her life in inviting me to +pay her visits. She told me that tea would be ready in half an +hour, and then left me. I sat down on the bed when she was gone, +and wished myself back in Varick-street; and then cried, to think +that I should be homesick for such a dreary home. But the appetites +and affections common to humanity had not been left out of my +heart, though I had been beggared all my life in regard to most of +them. I could have loved a mother so--a sister--I could have had +such happy feelings for a place that I could have felt was home. +What matter, if I could not even remember the smile on my mother's +lips; what matter, if no brother or sister had ever been born to +me; if no house had ever been my rightful home? I was hungry for +them all the same. And these first glimpses of the happy lives of +others seemed to disaffect me more than ever with my own.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV."></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<h3>MY COMPANIONS.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>"Vous êtes belle: ainsi donc la moitié<br> + Du genre humain sera votre ennemie."<br> + +<i>Voltaire</i>.<br> +<br> + "Oh, +I think the cause<br> + Of much was, they forgot no crowd<br> + Makes up for parents in their shroud."<br> + <i> +R. Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The servant came to call me down to tea while I was still +sitting with my face in my hands upon the bed. I started up, lit +the candles on the dressing-table, arranged my hair, washed the +tears off my face, and hurried down the stairs. They were waiting +for me in the parlor, and no doubt were quite impatient, as they +had already waited for the arrival of the evening train, and it was +nearly eight o'clock. The evening train had brought Mr. Eugene +Whitney, of whom I can only say, that he was a very insignificant +young man indeed. We all moved into the dining-room; the others +took the seats they were accustomed to. Mr. Whitney and I, being +the only new-comers, were advised which seats belonged to us by a +trim young maid-servant, and I, for one, was very glad to get into +mine. Mr. Whitney was my neighbor on one hand, the youngest of the +Hollenbeck boys on the other. These were our seats:</p> +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Kilian,</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Miss Leighton,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Miss Henrietta Palmer,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Miss Benson,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Mr. Eugene Whitney,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Tutor,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Myself,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Boy,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Boy,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Mrs. Hollenbeck.</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +</table> +</blockquote> +<p>The seat opposite me was not filled when we sat down.</p> +<p>"Where is Mr. Langenau, Charley?" said his mother.</p> +<p>"I'm sure I don't know, mamma," said Charley, applying himself +to marmalade.</p> +<p>"Charley doesn't see much of his tutor out of hours, I think," +said Miss Benson.</p> +<p>"A good deal too much of him in 'em," murmured Charley, between +a spoonful of marmalade and a drink of milk.</p> +<p>"Benny's the boy that loves his book," said Kilian; "he's the +joy of his tutor's heart, I know," at which there was a general +laugh, and Benny, the younger, looked up with a merry smile.</p> +<p>The Hollenbeck boys were not fond of study. They were healthy +and pretty; quite the reverse of intellectual; very fair and rosy, +without much resemblance to their mother or her brothers. It was +evident the acquisition of knowledge was far from being the +principal pursuit of their lives, and the tutor was looked upon as +the natural enemy of Charley, at the least.</p> +<p>"I don't see what you ever got him for, mamma," said Charley. +"I'd study just as much without him."</p> +<p>"And that wouldn't be pledging yourself to very much, would it, +Charley dear?"</p> +<p>"Wish he was back in Germany with his ugly books," cried +Charley.</p> +<p>But--hush!--there was a sudden lull, as the tutor entered and +took his place by Charley. He was a well-made man, evidently about +thirty. He was so decidedly a gentleman, in manners and appearance, +that even these spoiled boys treated him respectfully, and the +young ladies and gentlemen at the table were more stiff than +offensive in their manner. But he was so evidently not one of +them!</p> +<p>It is very disagreeable to be among people who know each other +very well, even if they try to know you very well and admit you to +their friendship. But I had no assurance that any one was trying to +do this for <i>me</i>, and I am afraid I showed very little +inclination to be admitted to their friendship. I could not talk, +and I did not want to be talked to. I was even afraid of the little +boys, and thought all the time that Charley was watching me and +making signs about me to his brother, when in reality he was only +telegraphing about the marmalade.</p> +<p>In the meantime, without any attention to my feelings, the +business of the tea-table proceeded. Mrs. Hollenbeck poured out +tea, and kept the little boys under a moderate control. Kilian cut +up some birds before him, and tried to persuade the young ladies to +eat some, but nobody had appetite enough but Mr. Whitney and +himself. Charlotte Benson, who was clever and efficient and +exceedingly at home, cut up a cake that was before her, and gave +the boys some strawberries, and offered some to me. Miss Palmer +simply looked very handsome, and eat a biscuit or two, and tried to +talk to Mr. Whitney, who seemed to have a good appetite and very +little conversation. Miss Leighton gave herself up to attentions to +Kilian; she was saying silly little things to him in a little low +tone all the time, and offering him different articles before her, +and advising him what he ought to eat; all of which seemed most +interesting and important in dumb-show till you heard what it was +all about, and then you felt ashamed of them. At times, I think, +Kilian felt somewhat ashamed too, and tried to talk a little to the +others; but most of the time he seemed to like it very well, and +did not ask anything better than the excellent woodcock on his +plate, and the pretty young woman by his side.</p> +<p>"By the way," said Sophie, when the meal was nearly over, "I had +a letter from Richard to-day."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Kilian, with a momentary release from his admirer. +"And when is he coming home?"</p> +<p>I looked up with quick interest, and met Mrs. Hollenbeck's eyes, +which seemed to be always on me. Then I turned mine down the table +uncomfortably, and found Charlotte Benson looking at me too. I did +not know what I had done to be looked at, but wished they would +look at themselves and let me take my tea (or leave it alone) in +peace.</p> +<p>"Not for two weeks yet," said his sister; "not for two whole +weeks."</p> +<p>"How sorry I am," said Charlotte Benson.</p> +<p>"I think we are all sorry," said Henrietta the tranquil.</p> +<p>"Miss d'Estrée confided to me that she'd be glad to see +him," said Kilian, cutting up another woodcock and looking at his +plate.</p> +<p>"Indeed I shall," I said, with, a little sigh, not thinking so +much about them as feeling most earnestly what a difference his +coming would make, and how sure I should be of having at least one +friend when he got here.</p> +<p>"He seems to be having a delightful time," said his sister.</p> +<p>"I am glad to hear that," I said, interested. "Generally he +finds it such a bore. He doesn't seem to like to travel." I was +rather startled at the sound of my own voice and the attention of +my audience; but I had been betrayed into speaking, by my interest +in the subject, and my surprise at hearing he was having such a +pleasant time.</p> +<p>"Ah!" she said, "don't you think he does? At any rate, he seems +to be enjoying this journey, and to be in no hurry to come back. I +looked for him last week."</p> +<p>Warned by my last experience, I said nothing in answer; and +after a moment Kilian said:</p> +<p>"Well, if Richard's having a good time, you may be sure he's +made some favorable negotiation, and comes home with good news for +the firm. That's his idea of a good time, you know."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Sophie, gently, "that's his brother's idea of his +idea. It isn't mine."</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson seemed a little nettled at this, and +exclaimed,</p> +<p>"Mrs. Hollenbeck! you are making us all unhappy. You are leading +us to suspect that the stern man of business is unbending. What's +the influence at work? What makes this journey different from other +journeys? Where does he tarry, oh, where?"</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" said Sophie, with a little laugh. "You cannot say I +have implied anything of the sort. Cannot Richard enjoy a journey +without your censure or suspicion? You must be careful; he does not +fancy teasing."</p> +<p>"O, I shall not accuse him, you may be sure; that is, if he ever +comes. Do you believe he really ever will?"</p> +<p>"Not if he thinks you want him," said Kilian, amiably. "He has a +great aversion to being made much of."</p> +<p>"Yes, a family trait," interrupted Charlotte, at which everybody +laughed, no one more cordially than Miss Leighton.</p> +<p>"Leave off laughing at my Uncle Richard," said Benny, stoutly, +with his cheeks quite flushed.</p> +<p>"We have, dear, and are laughing at your Uncle Kilian. You don't +object to that, I'm sure," and Charlotte Benson leaned forward and +threw him a little kiss past the tutor, who wore a silent, +abstracted look, in odd contrast with the animated expressions of +the faces all around him.</p> +<p>Benny did not like the joke at all, and got down from his chair +and walked away without permission. We all followed him, going into +the hall, and from thence to the piazza, as the night was fine. The +tutor walked silently through the group in the hall to a seat where +lay his book and hat, then passed through the doorway and +disappeared from sight.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V."></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<h3>THE TUTOR.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>And now above them pours a wondrous voice,<br> +(Such as Greek reapers heard in Sicily),<br> +With wounding rapture in it, like love's arrows.<br> +<br> +<i>George Eliot</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The next day, the first of my visit, was a very sultry one, and +the rest of the party thought it was, no doubt, a very dull +one.</p> +<p>Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney went away in the early train, not +to return, alas, till the evening of the following day. Miss +Leighton was languid, and yawned incessantly, though she tried to +appear interested in things, and was very attentive to me. +Charlotte Benson and Henrietta laid strong-minded plans for the +day, and carried them out faithfully. First, they played a game of +croquet, under umbrellas, for the sun was blazing on the ground: +that was for exercise; then, for mental discipline, they read +history for an hour in the library; and then, for relaxation, under +veils and sunhats, read Ruskin for two hours by the river.</p> +<p>I cannot think Henrietta understood Ruskin, but I have no doubt +she thought she did, and tried to share in her friend's enthusiasm. +Sophie had a little headache, and spent much of the morning in her +room. The boys were away with their tutor in the farm-house where +they had their school-room, and the house seemed deserted and +delightful. I wandered about at ease, chose my book, and sat for +hours in the boat-house by the river, not reading Ruskin, nor even +my poor little novel, but gazing and dreaming and wondering. It can +be imagined what the country seemed to me, in beautiful summer +weather, after the dreary years I had spent in a city-street.</p> +<p>It is quite impossible to describe all that seemed starting into +life within me, all at once--- so many new forces, so much new +life.</p> +<p>My home-sickness had passed away, and I was inclined to be very +happy, particularly in the liberty that seemed to promise. Dinner +was very quiet, and every one seemed dull, even Charlotte Benson, +who ordinarily had life enough for all. The boys were there, but +their tutor had gone away on a long walk and would not be back till +evening. "<i>A la bonne heure</i>," cried Madame, with a little +yawn; "freedom of the halls, and deshabille, for one +afternoon."</p> +<p>So we spent the afternoon with our doors open, and with books, +or without books, on the bed.</p> +<p>Nobody came into my room, except Mrs. Hollenbeck for a few +moments, looking very pretty in a white peignoir, and rather sleepy +at the same time; hoping I was comfortable and had found something +to amuse me in the library.</p> +<p>It seemed to be thought a great bore to dress, to judge from the +exclamations of ennui which I heard in the hall, as six o'clock +approached, and the young ladies wandered into each other's room +and bewailed the necessity. I think Miss Leighton would have been +very glad to have stayed on the bed, and tried to sleep away the +hours that presented no amusement; but Charlotte Benson laughed at +her so cruelly, that she began to dress at once, and said, she had +not intended what she said, of course.</p> +<p>I was the first to be ready, and went down to the piazza. The +heat of the day was over and there was a soft, pleasant breeze. We +were to have tea at seven o'clock, and while I sat there, the bell +rang. The tutor came in from under the trees where he had been +reading, looking rather pale after his long walk.</p> +<p>He bowed slightly as he passed me, and waited at the other end +of the piazza, reading as he stood, till the others came down to +the dining-room. As we were seating ourselves he came in and took +his place, with a bow to me and the others. Mrs. Hollenbeck asked +him a little about his expedition, and paid him a little more +attention than usual, being the only man.</p> +<p>He had a most fortunate way of saying just the right thing and +then being silent; never speaking unless addressed, and then +conveying exactly the impression he desired. I think he must have +appeared in a more interesting light that usual at this meal, for +as we went out from the dining room Mary Leighton put her arm +through mine and whispered "Poor fellow! How lonely he must be! +Let's ask him to go and walk with us this evening."</p> +<p>Before I could remonstrate or detach myself from her, she had +twisted herself about, in a peculiarly supple and child-like manner +that she had, and had made the suggestion to him.</p> +<p>He was immeasurably surprised, no doubt, but he gave no sign of +it. After a silence of two or three instants, during which, I +think, he was occupied in trying to find a way to decline, he +assented very sedately.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson and her friend, who were behind us, were +enraged at this proceeding. During the week they had all been in +the house together, they had never gone beyond speaking terms with +the tutor, and this they had agreed was the best way to keep +things, and it seemed to be his wish no less than theirs. Here was +this saucy girl, in want of amusement, upsetting all their plans. +They shortly declined to go to walk with us: and so Mary Leighton, +Mr. Langenau, and I started alone toward the river.</p> +<p>It must be confessed, Miss Leighton was not rewarded for her +effort, for a stiffer and more uncomfortable companion could not be +imagined. He entirely declined to respond to her coquetry, and she +very soon found she must abandon this role; but she was nothing if +not coquettish, and the conversation flagged uncomfortably. Before +we reached home she was quite impatient, and ran up the steps, when +we got there, as if it were a great relief. The tutor raised his +hat when he left us at the door, turned back, and disappeared for +the rest of the evening.</p> +<p>The next morning, coming down-stairs half an hour before +breakfast, I went into the library (a little room at the right of +the front door), for a book I had left there. I threw myself into +an easy-chair, and opened it, when I caught sight of the tutor, +reading at the window. I half started to my feet, and then sank +back again in confusion; for what was there to go away for?</p> +<p>He rose and bowed, and resumed his seat and his book.</p> +<p>The room was quite small, and we were very near each other. How +I could possibly have missed seeing him as I entered, now surprised +me. I longed to go away, but did not dare do anything that would +seem rude. He appeared very much engrossed with his book, but I, +for my part, could not read a word, and was only thinking how I +could get away. Possibly he guessed at my embarrassment, for after +about ten minutes he arose, and coming up to the table by which I +sat, he took up a card, and placed it in his book for a mark, and +shut it up, then made some remark to me about the day.</p> +<p>The color was coming and going in my face.</p> +<p>He must have felt sorry or curious, for he did not go directly +away, and continued to talk of things that did not require me to +answer him.</p> +<p>I do not know what it was about his voice that was so different +from the ordinary voices of people. There was a quality in it that +I had never heard in any other. But perhaps it was in the ear that +listened, as well as the voice that spoke. And apart from the +tones, the words I never could forget. The most trivial things that +he ever said to me, I can remember to this day.</p> +<p>I believe that this was not of my imagination, but that others +felt it in some degree as I did. It was this that made him such an +invaluable teacher; he impressed upon those flesh-and-blood boys, +in that one summer, more than they would have learned in whole +years from ordinary persons. It was not very strange, then, that I +was smitten with the strangest interest in all he said and did, and +that his words made the deepest impression on me.</p> +<p>No doubt it is pleasant to be listened to by one whose face +tells you you are understood; and the tutor was not in a hurry to +go away. He had got up from the window, I know, with the intention +of going out of the room, but he continued standing, looking down +at me and talking, for half an hour at least.</p> +<p>The soft morning wind came in at the open door and window, with +a scent of rose and honeysuckle: the pretty little room was full of +the early sunshine in which there is no glare: I can see it all +now, and I can hear, as ever, his low voice.</p> +<p>He talked of the book I held in my hand, of the views on the +river, of the pleasantness of country life. I fancy I did not say +much, though I never am able to remember what I said when talking +to him. Whatever I said was a mere involuntary accord with him. I +never recollect to have felt that I did not agree with and admire +every word he uttered.</p> +<p>How different his manner from last night when he had talked with +Mary Leighton; all the stiffness, the half-concealed repelling tone +was gone. I had not heard him speak to any one, except perhaps once +to Benny, as he spoke now. I was quite sure that he liked me, and +that he did not class me with the others in the house. But when the +breakfast-bell rang, he gave a slight start, and his voice changed; +and such a frown came over his face! He looked at his watch, said +something about the hour, and quickly left the room. I bent my head +over my book and sat still, till I heard them all come down and go +into the breakfast-room. I trusted they would not know he had been +talking to me, and there was little danger, unless they guessed it +from my cheeks being so aflame.</p> +<p>At breakfast he was more silent than ever, and his brow had not +quite got over that sudden frown. At dinner he was away again, as +the day before.</p> +<p>The day passed much as yesterday had done. About four o'clock +there came a telegram from Kilian to his sister. He had been +delayed, and Mr. Whitney would wait for him, and they would come +the next evening by the boat. I think Mary Leighton could have +cried if she had not been ashamed. Her pretty blue organdie was on +the bed ready to put on. It went back into the wardrobe very +quickly, and she came down to tea in a gray barége that was +a little shabby.</p> +<p>A rain had come on about six o'clock. At tea the candles were +lit, and the windows closed. Every one looked moped and dull; the +evening promised to be insufferable. Mrs. Hollenbeck saw the +necessity of rousing herself and providing us some amusement. When +Mr. Langenau entered, she met his bow with one of her best smiles: +how the change must have struck him; for she had been very +mechanical and polite to him before. Now she spoke to him with the +charming manner that brought every one to her feet.</p> +<p>And what was the cause of this sudden kindness? It is very easy +for me to see now, though then I had not a suspicion. Alas! I am +afraid that the cheeks aflame at breakfast-time were the immediate +cause of the change. Mrs. Hollenbeck would not have made so marked +a movement for an evening's entertainment: it seemed to suit her +very well that I should talk to the tutor in the library before +breakfast, and she meant to give me opportunities for talking to +him in the parlor too.</p> +<p>"A dreary evening, is it not?" she began. "What shall we all do? +Charlotte, can't you think of something?"</p> +<p>Charlotte, who had her own plans for a quiet evening by the lamp +with a new book, of course could not think of anything.</p> +<p>"Henrietta, at least you shall give us some music, and Mr. +Langenau, I am sure you will be good enough to help us; I will send +over to the school-room for that flute and those piles of music +that I've seen upon a shelf, and you will be charitable enough to +play for us."</p> +<p>"I must beg you will not take that trouble."</p> +<p>"Oh, Mr. Langenau, that is selfish now."</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck did not press the subject then, but made herself +thoroughly delightful during tea, and as we rose from the table +renewed the request in a low tone to Mr. Langenau: and the result +was, a little after eight o'clock he came into the parlor where we +sat. A place was made for him at the table around which we were +sitting, and Mrs. Hollenbeck began the process of putting him at +his ease. There was no need. The tutor was quite as much at ease as +any one, and, in a little while, imperceptibly became the person to +whom we were all listening.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson at last gave up her book, and took her work-box +instead. We were no longer moping and dull around the table. And +bye and bye Henrietta, much alarmed, was sent to the piano, and her +poor little music certainly sounded very meagre when Mr. Langenau +touched the keys.</p> +<p>I think he consented to play not to appear rude, but with the +firm intention of not being the instrument of our entertainment, +and not being made use of out of his own accepted calling. But +happily for us, he soon forgot all about us, and played on, +absorbed in himself and in his music. We listened breathlessly, the +others quite as much engrossed as I, because they all knew much +more of music than I did. Suddenly, after playing for a long while, +he started from the piano, and came back to the table. He was +evidently agitated. Before the others could say a word of thanks or +wonder, I cried, in a fear of the cessation of what gave me such +intense pleasure,</p> +<p>"Oh, sing something; can't you sing?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I can sing," he said, looking down at me with those +dangerous eyes. "Will it give you pleasure if I sing for you?"</p> +<p>He did not wait for an answer, but turned back to the piano.</p> +<p>He had said "if I sing for you," and I knew that for me he was +singing. I do not know what it was for others, but for me, it was +the only true music that I had ever heard, the only music that I +could have begged might never cease, but flood over all the present +and the future, satisfying every sense. Other voices had roused and +thrilled, this filled me. I asked no more, and could have died with +that sound in my ears.</p> +<p>"Why, Pauline! child! what is it?" cried Mrs. Hollenbeck, as the +music ceased and Mr. Langenau. again came back to the circle round +the table. Every one looked: I was choking with sobs.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't, I don't want you to speak to me," I cried, putting +away her hand and darting from the room. I was not ashamed of +myself, even when I was alone in my room. The powerful magic lasted +still, through the silence and darkness, till I was aroused by the +voices of the others coming up to bed.</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck knocked at my door with her bedroom candle in +her hand, and, as she stood talking to me, the others strayed in to +join her and to satisfy their curiosity.</p> +<p>"You are very sensitive to music, are you not?" said Charlotte +Benson, contemplatively. She had tried me on Mompssen, and the +"Seven Lamps," and found me wanting, and now perhaps hoped to find +some other point less faulty.</p> +<p>"I do not know," I said, honestly. "I seem to have been very +sensitive to-night."</p> +<p>"But you are not always?" asked Henrietta Palmer. "You do not +always cry when people sing?"</p> +<p>"Why, no," I said with great contempt. "But I never heard any +one sing like that before."</p> +<p>"He does sing well," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"Immense expression and a fine voice," added Charlotte +Benson.</p> +<p>"He has been educated for the stage, you may be sure," said Mary +Leighton, with a little spite. "As Miss d'Estrée says, I +never heard anyone sing like that, out of the chorus of an +opera."</p> +<p>"Well, I think," returned Charlotte Benson, "if there were many +voices like that in ordinary choruses, one would be glad to +dispense with the solos and duets."</p> +<p>"Oh, you would not find his voice so wonderful, if you heard it +out of a parlor. It is very well, but it would not fill a concert +hall, much less an opera house. No; you may be sure he has been +educated for some of those German choruses; you know they are very +fine musicians."</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know that it is anything to us what he was +educated for," said Charlotte Benson, sharply. "He has given us a +very delightful evening, and I, for one, am much obliged to +him."</p> +<p>"<i>Et moi aussi"</i> murmured Henrietta, wreathing her large +beautiful arms about her friend, and the two sauntered away.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton, in general ill-humor, and still remembering the +walk of the last evening, desired to fire a parting-shot, and +exclaimed, as she went out, "Well, I think it is something to us; I +like to have gentlemen about me."</p> +<p>"You need not be uneasy," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, a little +stiffly. "I think Mr. Langenau is a gentleman."</p> +<p>But at this moment his step was heard in the hall below, and +there was an end put to the conversation.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI."></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<h3>MATINAL.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Last night, when some one spoke his name,<br> +From my swift blood that went and came<br> +A thousand little shafts of flame<br> +Were shivered in my narrow frame.<br> +<br> + <i> +Tennyson</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>The next morning was brilliant and cool, the earth and heavens +shining after the rain of the past night. I was dressed long, long +before breakfast: it would be so tiresome to wait in my room till +the bell rang; yet if I went down-stairs, would it not look as if I +wanted to see Mr. Langenau again? I need not go to the library, of +course, but I could scarcely avoid being seen from the library if I +went out. But why suppose that he would be down again so early? It +was very improbable, and so, affectionately deceived, I put on a +hat and walking-jacket and stole down the stairs. I saw by the +clock in the lower hall that it was half an hour earlier than I had +come down the morning before; at which I was secretly chagrined, +for now there was no danger, <i>alias</i> hope, of seeing Mr. +Langenau.</p> +<p>But probably he had forgotten all about the foolish half-hour +that had given me so much to think about. I glanced into the +library, which was empty, and hurried out of the hall-door, +secretly disappointed.</p> +<p>I took the path that led over the hill to the river. It passed +through the garden, under the long arbors of grapevines, over the +hill, and through a grove of maples, ending at the river where the +boat-house stood. The brightness of the morning was not lost on me, +and before I reached the maple-grove I was buoyant and happy. At +the entrance of the grove (which was traversed by several paths, +the principal coming up directly from the river) I came suddenly +upon the tutor, walking rapidly, with a pair of oars over his +shoulder. He started, and for a moment we both stood still and did +not speak. I could only think with confusion of my emotion when he +sang.</p> +<p>"You are always early," he said, with his slight, very slight, +foreign accent, "earlier than yesterday by half an hour," he added, +looking at his watch. My heart gave a great bound of pleasure. Then +he had not forgotten! How he must have seen all this.</p> +<p>He stood and talked with me for some moments, and then +desperately I made a movement to go on. I do not believe, at least +I am not sure, that at first he had any intention of going with me. +But it was not in human nature to withstand the flattery of such +emotion as his presence seemed always to inspire in me; and then, I +have no doubt, he had a certain pleasure in talking to me outside +of that; and then the morning was so lovely and he had so much of +books.</p> +<p>He proposed to show me a walk I had not taken. There was a +little hesitation in his manner, but he was reassured by my look of +pleasure, and throwing down the oars under a tree, he turned and +walked beside me. No doubt he said to himself, "America! This +paradise of girlhood;--there can be no objection." It was heavenly +sweet, that walk--the birds, the sky, the dewiness and freshness of +all nature and all life. It seemed the unstained beginning of all +things to me.</p> +<p>The woods were wet; we could not go through them, and so we went +a longer way, along the river and back by the road.</p> +<p>This time he did not do all the talking, but made me talk, and +listened carefully to all I said; and I was so happy, talking was +not any effort.</p> +<p>At last he made some allusion to the music of last night; that +he was so glad to see that I loved music as I did. "But I don't +particularly," I said in confusion, with a great fear of being +dishonest, "at least I never thought I did before, and I am so +ignorant. I don't want you to think I know anything about it, for +you would be disappointed." He was silent, and, I felt sure, +because he was already disappointed; in fear of which I went on to +say--</p> +<p>"I never heard any one sing like that before; I am very sorry +that it gave any one an impression that I had a knowledge of music, +when I hadn't. I don't care about it generally, except in church, +and I can't understand what made me feel so yesterday."</p> +<p>"Perhaps it is because you were in the mood for it," he said. +"It is often so, one time music gives us pleasure, another time it +does not."</p> +<p>"That may be so; but your voice, in speaking, even, seems to me +different from any other. It is almost as good as music when you +speak; only the music fills me with such feelings."</p> +<p>"You must let me sing for you again," he said, rather low, as we +walked slowly on.</p> +<p>"Ah; if you only will," I answered, with a deep sigh of +satisfaction.</p> +<p>We walked on in silence till we reached the gate: he opened it +for me and then said, "Now I must leave you, and go back for the +oars."</p> +<p>I was secretly glad of this; since the walk had reached its +natural limit and its end must be accepted, it was a relief to +approach the house alone and not be the subject of any +observation.</p> +<p>Breakfast had began: no one seemed to feel much interest in my +entrance, though flaming with red roses and red cheeks.</p> +<p>They were of the sex that do not notice such things naturally, +with much interest or admiration. They had hardly "shaken off +drowsy-hed," and had no pleasure in anything but their breakfast, +and not much in that.</p> +<p>"How do you manage to get yourself up and dressed at such +inhuman hours?" said Mary Leighton, querulously.</p> +<p>"You are a reproach to the household, and we will not suffer +it," said Charlotte Benson.</p> +<p>"I never could understand this thing of getting up before you +are obliged to," added Henrietta plaintively.</p> +<p>But Sophie seemed well satisfied, particularly when Mr. Langenau +came in and I looked down into my cup of tea, instead of saying +good-morning to him. He did not say very much, though there was a +good deal of babble among the others, principally about his +music.</p> +<p>It was becoming the fashion to be very attentive to him. He was +made to promise to play in the evening; to bring down his books of +music for the benefit of Miss Henrietta, who wanted to practice, +Heaven knows what of his. His advice was asked about styles of +playing and modes of instruction; he was deferred to as an +authority. But very little he seemed to care about it all, I +thought.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII."></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<h3>THREE WEEKS TOO LATE.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote><i>Qui va à la chasse perd sa place</i>.<br> +<br> +<i>De la main à la bouche se perd souvent la soupe</i>.<br> +<br> + Distance all value enhances!<br> +When a man's busy, why, leisure<br> +Strikes him as wonderful pleasure.<br> +Faith! and at leisure once is he,<br> +Straightway he wants to be busy.<br> +<br> +<i>R. Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Two weeks more passed: two weeks that seem to me so many years +when I look back upon them. Many more walks, early and late, many +evenings of music, many accidents of meeting. It is all like a +dream. At seventeen it is so easy to dream! It does not take two +weeks for a girl to fall in love and make her whole life +different.</p> +<p>It was Saturday evening, and Richard was expected; Richard and +Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney. Ah, Richard was coming just three +weeks too late.</p> +<p>We were all waiting on the piazza for them, in pretty toilettes +and excellent tempers. It was a lovely evening; the sunset was +filling the sky with splendor, and Charlotte and Henrietta had gone +to the corner of the piazza whence the river could be seen, and +were murmuring fragments of verses to each other. They were not so +much absorbed, however, but that they heard the first sound of the +wheels inside the gate, and hurried back to join us by the +steps.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton looked absolutely lovely. The blue organdie had +seen the day at last, and she was in such a flutter of delight at +the coming of the gentlemen that she could scarcely be recognized +as the pale, flimsy young person who had moped so unblushingly all +the week.</p> +<p>"They are all three there," she exclaimed with suppressed +rapture, as the carriage turned the angle of the road that brought +them into sight. Mrs. Hollenbeck, quite beaming with pleasure, ran +down the steps (for Richard had been away almost two months), and +Mary Leighton was at her side, of course. Charlotte Benson and +Henrietta went half-way down the steps, and I stood on the piazza +by the pillar near the door.</p> +<p>I was a little excited by their coming, too, but not nearly as +much so as I might have been three weeks ago. A subject of much +greater interest occupied my mind that very moment, and related to +the chances of the tutor's getting home in time for tea, from one +of those long walks that were so tiresome. I felt as if I hardly +needed Richard now. Still, dear old Richard! It was very nice to +see him once again.</p> +<p>The gentlemen all sprang out of the carriage, and a Babel of +welcomes and questions and exclamations arose. Richard kissed his +sister, and answered some of her many questions, then shook hands +with the young ladies, but I could see that his eye was searching +for me. I can't tell why, certainly not because I felt at all shy, +I had stepped back, a little behind the pillar and the vines. In an +instant he saw me, and came quickly up the steps, and stood by me +and grasped my hand, and looked exactly as if he meant to kiss me. +I hoped that nobody saw his look, and I drew back, a little +frightened. Of course, I know that he had not the least intention +of kissing me, but his look was so eager and so unusual,</p> +<p>"It is two months, Pauline," he said; "and are you well?" And +though I only said that I was well and was very glad to see him, I +am sure his sister Sophie thought that it was something more, for +she had followed him up the steps and stood in the doorway looking +at us.</p> +<p>The others came up there, and Kilian, as soon as he could get +out of the meshes of the blue organdie, came to me, and tried to +out-devotion Richard.</p> +<p>That is the way with men. He had not taken any trouble to get +away from Mary Leighton till Richard came.</p> +<p>A young woman only needs one lover very much in earnest, to +bring about her several others, not so much, perhaps, in earnest, +but very amusing and instructive. Richard went away very quickly, +for I am sure he did not like that sort of thing.</p> +<p>It was soon necessary for Mr. Kilian to suspend his devotion and +go to his room to get ready for tea.</p> +<p>When we all assembled again, at the table, I found that he had +placed himself beside me, next his sister, little Benny having gone +to bed.</p> +<p>"Of course, the head of the table belongs to Richard; I never +interfere there, and as everybody else is placed, this is the only +seat that I can take, following the rose and thorn principle."</p> +<p>"But that principle is not followed strictly," cried Charlotte +Benson, who sat by Mary Leighton. "Here are two roses and no +thorn."</p> +<p>"Ah! What a strange oversight," he exclaimed, seating himself +nevertheless. "The only way to remedy it will be to put the tutor +in your place, Miss Benson, and you come opposite Miss Pauline. +Quick; before he comes and refuses to move his Teutonic bones an +inch." Charlotte Benson changed her seat and the vacant one was +left between her and Mary Leighton.</p> +<p>This is the order of our seats, for that and many following +happy nights and days:</p> +<blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Richard,</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Mary Leighton,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Henrietta,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Tutor,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Mr. Eugene Whitney,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Charlotte Benson,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Myself,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Charley,</td> +<td> </td> +<td>Kilian,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td>Sophie.</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +</table> +</blockquote> +<p>Mary Leighton looked furious and could hardly speak a word all +through the meal. It was particularly hard upon her, as the tutor +did not come, and the chair was empty, and a glaring insult to her +all the time.</p> +<p>Kilian had done his part so innocently and so simply that it was +hard to suspect him of any intention to pique her and annoy +Richard, but I am sure he did it with just those two intentions. He +was as thorough a flirt as any woman, and withal very fond of +change, and I think my pink grenadine quite dazzled him as I stood +on the piazza. Then came the brotherly and quite natural desire to +outshine Richard and put things out a little. I liked it all very +much, and was charmed to be of so much consequence, for I saw all +this quite plainly. I laughed and talked a good deal with Kilian; +he was delightful to laugh and talk with. Even Eugene Whitney found +me more worth his weak attention than the beautiful and placid +Henrietta.</p> +<p>The amusement was chiefly at our end of the table. But amidst +it, I did not fail to glance often at the door and wonder, +uncomfortably, why the tutor did not come.</p> +<p>As we left the table and lingered for a few moments in the hall, +Richard came up to me and said, as he prepared to light his cigar, +"Will you not come out and walk up and down the path here with me +while I smoke?"</p> +<p>I began to make some excuse, for I wanted to do nothing just +then but watch the stairway to see if Mr. Langenau did not come +down even then and go into the dining-room.</p> +<p>But I reflected how ungracious it would seem to refuse this, +when he had just come home, and I followed him out into the +path.</p> +<p>There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, and the air +was sweet with the flower-beds in the grass along the path we +walked.</p> +<p>The house looked gay and pleasant as we walked up and down +before it, with its many lighted windows, and people with bright +dresses moving about on the piazza. Richard lit his cigar, and +said, after a silence of a few moments, with a sigh, "It is good to +be at home again."</p> +<p>"But you've had a pleasant journey?"</p> +<p>"No; the most tiresome that I ever made, and this last detention +wore my patience out. It seemed the longest fortnight. I could not +bear to think of you all here, and I away in such a dismal +hole."</p> +<p>"I suppose Uncle Leonard had no pity on you, as long as there +was a penny to be made by staying there."</p> +<p>"No; I spent a great deal of money in telegraphing to him for +orders to come home, but he would not give up."</p> +<p>"And how is Uncle Leonard; did you go to Varick-street?"</p> +<p>"No, indeed; I did not waste any time in town. I only reached +there yesterday."</p> +<p>"I wonder Uncle Leonard let you off so soon."</p> +<p>"He growled a good deal, but I did not stay to listen."</p> +<p>"That's always the best way."</p> +<p>"And now, Pauline, tell me how you like the place."</p> +<p>"Like it! Oh, Richard, I think it is a Paradise," and I clasped +my hands in a young sort of ecstacy.</p> +<p>He was silent, which was a sign that he was satisfied. I went on +after a moment, "I don't wonder that you all love it. I never saw +anything half so beautiful. The dear old house is prettier than any +new one that could be built, and the trees are so grand! And oh, +Richard, I think the garden lying on the hillside there in the +beautiful warm sun, with such royal flowers and fruit, is worth all +the grape-houses and conservatories in the neighborhood. Your +sister took us to three or four of the neighboring places a week or +two ago. But I like this a hundred times the best. I should think +you would be sorry every moment that you have to spend away from +it."</p> +<p>"I hope one of these days to live here altogether," he said in a +low tone.</p> +<p>It was so difficult for Richard to be unreserved that it is very +likely this was the first time in his life that he had ever +expressed this, the brightest hope he had.</p> +<p>I could fancy all these few words implied--a wife, children, a +happy home in manhood where he had been a happy child.</p> +<p>"It belongs to Kilian and me, but it is understood I have the +right to it when I am ready for it."</p> +<p>"And your sister--it does not belong at all to her?"</p> +<p>"No, she only keeps house for us. It would make a great change +for Sophie if either of us married. But then I know that it would +give her pleasure, for I am sure that she would not be +selfish."</p> +<p>I was not so sure, but, of course, I did not say so. At this +moment, while Richard smoked and I walked silently beside him, a +dark figure struck directly across the path before us. The +apparition was so sudden that I sprang and screamed, and caught +Richard by the arm.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," said the tutor, with a quick look of +surprise at me and then at Richard, and bowing, strode on into the +house.</p> +<p>"That's the German Sophie has taken for the boys, is it?" said +Richard, knitting his brows, and looking after him, with no great +approbation. "I don't half like the idea of his being here: I told +Sophie so at starting. A governess would do as well for two years +yet. What kind of a person does he seem to be?"</p> +<p>"I don't know--that is--I can't tell exactly. I don't know him +well enough," I answered in confusion, which Richard did not +see.</p> +<p>"No, of course not. You would not be likely to see him except at +the table. But it is awkward having him here,--so much of the week, +no man about; and one never knows anything about these +Germans."</p> +<p>"I thought--your sister said--you knew all about him," I said, +in rather a low voice.</p> +<p>"As much as one needs to know about a mere teacher. But the +person you have in your house all the time is different."</p> +<p>"But he is a gentleman," I put in more firmly.</p> +<p>"I hope he is. He had letters to some friends of ours. But what +are letters? People give them when they're asked for them, and half +the time know nothing of the person for whom they do the favor, +besides his name and general standing. Hardly that, sometimes." +Then, as if to put away a tiresome and unwelcome subject, he began +again to talk about the place.</p> +<p>But I had lost my interest in the subject, and thought only of +returning to the house.</p> +<p>"Don't," I said, playfully putting out my hand as he took out +another cigar to light. "You have smoked enough to-night. Do you +know, you smoke a great deal more than is good for you."</p> +<p>"Well, I will not smoke any more to-night if you say so. Only +don't go in the house."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, you know we only came out to smoke."</p> +<p>He stood in front of the path that led to the piazza and said, +in an affectionate, gentle way, "Stay and walk a little longer. I +have not told you half how glad I am that you are here at +last."</p> +<p>"Oh, as for that, you've got a good many weeks to tell me in. +Besides, it's getting chilly," and I gave a little shiver.</p> +<p>"If you're cold, of course," he said, letting me pass and +following me, and added, with a shade of anxiety, "Why didn't you +tell me before? I never thought of it, and you have no shawl."</p> +<p>I felt ashamed of myself as I led the way up the piazza +steps.</p> +<p>In the hall, which was quite light, they were all standing, and +Mr. Langenau was in the group. They were petitioning him for +music.</p> +<p>"Oh, he has promised that he will sing," said Sophie; "but +remember he has not had his tea. I have ordered it for you, Mr. +Langenau; it will be ready in a moment."</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau bowed and turned to go up the stairs. His eye met +mine, as I came into the light, dazzled a little by it.</p> +<p>He went up the stairs; the others after a few moments, went into +the parlor. I sat down on a sofa beside Mrs. Hollenbeck. Richard +was called away by a person on business. There was a shaded lamp on +a bracket above the sofa where we sat; Mrs. Hollenbeck was reading +some letters she had just received, and I took up the evening +paper, reading over and over an advertisement of books. Presently +the servant came to Mrs. Hollenbeck and said that Mr. Langenau's +tea was ready. She was sent up to tell him so, and in a few moments +he came down. When he reached the hall, Sophie looked up with her +most lovely smile.</p> +<p>"You must be famished, Mr. Langenau; pray go immediately to the +dining-room. I am sorry not to make your tea myself, but I hear +Benny waking and must go to him. Will you mind taking my place, +Pauline, and pouring out tea for Mr. Langenau?"</p> +<p>I was bending over the paper; my face turned suddenly from red +to pale. I said something inaudible in reply, and got up and went +into the dining-room, followed by the tutor.</p> +<p>It was several minutes before I looked at him. The servants had +not favored us with much light: there was a branch of wax candles +in the middle of the table. Mr. Langenau's plate was placed just at +one side of the tray, at which I had seated myself. He looked pale, +even to his lips. I began to think of the terrible walks in which +he seemed to hunt himself down, and to wonder what was the motive, +though I had often wondered that before. He took the cup of tea I +offered him without speaking. Neither of us spoke for several +minutes, then I said, rather irresolutely, "I am sure you tire +yourself by these long walks."</p> +<p>"Do you think so? No: they rest me."</p> +<p>No doubt I felt more coquettish, and had more confidence than +usual, from the successes of that evening, and from the knowledge +that Richard and Kilian and Eugene Whitney, even, were so delighted +to talk to me; otherwise I could never have said what I said then, +by a sudden impulse, and with a half-laughing voice, "Do not go +away again so long; it makes it so dull and tiresome."</p> +<p>He looked at me and said, "It does not seem to me you miss me +very much." But such a gleam of those dark, dangerous eyes! I +looked down, but my breath came quickly and my face must have shown +the agitation that I felt.</p> +<p>At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the +library, came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door. +He paused for a moment at the door, walked away again, then came +back and into the room, with rather a quicker step than usual.</p> +<p>"Pauline," he said, and I started visibly, "They seem to be +waiting for you in the parlor for a game of cards."</p> +<p>His voice indicated anything but satisfaction. I half rose, then +sank back, and said, hesitatingly, "Can I pour you some more tea, +Mr. Langenau?"</p> +<p>"If it is not troubling you too much," he said in a voice that a +moment's time had hardened into sharpness.</p> +<p>Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on +one side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and +cynical. My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and +Richard angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the +lamp flamed up and scorched my arm.</p> +<p>"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and +wrapping my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all +softness and kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance.</p> +<p>"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come +with me, and I will get Sophie to put something on it."</p> +<p>But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my +sufferings. I was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the +other hand to replace the cup and fill it. Seeing that I did not +make much headway, and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau +said, "Allow me," and held the cup while I managed to pour the tea +into it. He thanked me stiffly, and without looking at either of +them I got up and went out of the room, Richard following me.</p> +<p>"Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for +you?" he said a little coldly.</p> +<p>"No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything +more about it; it only hurt me for a moment."</p> +<p>"Will you go into the parlor, then?"</p> +<p>"No--yes, that is," I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he +did not follow me.</p> +<p>I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by +one of the windows, a little out of the light. This window opened +upon the piazza. After a little while Richard, walking up and down +the piazza, stopped by it, and said to me: "I hope you won't think +it unreasonable in me to ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you +happen to be making tea for that--that man in there?"</p> +<p>"I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister +asked me to," I said angrily; "you had better speak to her about +it."</p> +<p>"You may be sure I shall," he said, walking away from the +window.</p> +<p>Presently the tutor came in from the hall by the door near the +piano, and sat down by it without being asked, and began to play +softly, as if not to interrupt the game of cards. I could not help +thinking in what good taste this was, since he had promised not to +wait for any more importunities. The game at cards soon languished, +for Charlotte Benson really had an enthusiasm for music, and was +not happy till she was at liberty to give her whole attention to +it. As soon as the players were released, Kilian came over and sat +beside me. He rather wearied me, for I wanted to listen to the +music, but he was determined not to see that, and chattered so that +more than once Charlotte Benson turned impatiently and begged us +not to talk. Once Mr. Langenau himself turned and looked at us, but +Kilian only paused, and then went on again.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton had fled to the piano and was gazing at the keys +in a rapt manner, hoping, no doubt, to rouse Kilian to jealousy of +the tutor.</p> +<p>"Please go away," I said at last, "this is making me seem +rude."</p> +<p>"Do not tell me," he exclaimed, "that you are helping Mary +Leighton and Sophie to spoil this German fellow. I really did not +look for it in you. I--"</p> +<p>"I can't stay here and be talked to," I said, getting up in +despair.</p> +<p>"Then come on the piazza," he exclaimed, and we were there +almost before I knew what I was doing.</p> +<p>I suppose every one in the room saw us go out: I was in terror +when I thought what an insult it would seem to Mr. Langenau. We +walked about the piazza for some time; I am afraid Mr. Kilian found +me rather dull, for I could only listen to what was going on +inside. At last he was called away by a man from the stable, who +brought some alarming account of his beloved Tom or Jerry. If I had +been his bride at the altar, I am sure he would have left me; being +only a new and very faintly-lighted flame, he hurried off with +scarcely an apology.</p> +<p>I sat down in a piazza-chair, just outside the window at which +we had been sitting. I looked in at the window, but no one could +see me, from the position of my chair.</p> +<p>Presently Mr. Langenau left the piano, and Mary Leighton, +talking to him with effusion, walked across the room beside him, +and took her seat at this very window. He did not sit down, but +stood before her with his hat in his hand, as if he only awaited a +favorable pause to go away.</p> +<p>"Ah, where did Pauline go?" she said, glancing around. "But I +suppose we must excuse her, for to-night at least, as he has just +come home. I imagine the engagement was no surprise to you?"</p> +<p>"Of what engagement do you speak?" he said.</p> +<p>"Why! Pauline and Richard Vandermarck; you know it is quite a +settled thing. And very good for her, I think. He seems to me just +the sort of man to keep her steady and--well, improve her +character, you know. She seems such a heedless sort of girl. They +say her mother ran away and made some horrid marriage, and, I +believe, her uncle has had to keep her very strict. He is very much +pleased, I am told, with marrying her to Richard, and she herself +seems very much in love with him."</p> +<p>All this time he had stood very still and looked at her, but his +face had changed slowly as she spoke. I knew then that what she had +said had not pleased him. She went on in her babbling, soft +voice:</p> +<p>"His sister Sophie isn't pleased, of course, so there is nothing +said about it here. It <i>is</i> rather hard for her, for the place +belongs to Richard, and besides, Richard has been very generous to +her always. And then to see him marry just such a sort of +person--you know--so young--"</p> +<p>"Yes--so young," said Mr. Langenau, between his teeth, "and of +such charming innocence."</p> +<p>"Oh, as to that," said Mary Leighton, piqued beyond prudence, +"we all have our own views as to that."</p> +<p>The largess due the bearer of good news was not by right the +meed of Mary Leighton. He looked at her as if he hated her.</p> +<p>"Mr. Richard Yandermarck is a fortunate man," he said. "She has +rare beauty, if he has a taste for beauty."</p> +<p>"Men sometimes tire of that; if indeed she has it. Her coloring +is her strong point, and that may not last forever;" and Mary's +voice was no longer silvery.</p> +<p>"You think so?" he said. "I think her grace is her strong point, +'<i>la grâce encore plus belle que la beauté</i>,' and +longer-lived beside. Few women move as she does, making it a +pleasure to follow her with the eyes. And her height and +suppleness: at twenty-five she will be regal."</p> +<p>"Then, Mr. Langenau," she cried, with sudden spitefulness, "you +<i>do</i> admire her very much yourself! Do you know, I thought +perhaps you did. How you must envy Mr. Vandermarck!"</p> +<p>A slight shrug of the shoulders and a slight low laugh; after +which, he said, "No, I think not. I have not the courage that is +necessary."</p> +<p>"The courage! why, what do you mean by that?"</p> +<p>"I mean that a man who ventures to love a woman in whom he +cannot trust, has need for courage and for patience; perhaps Mr. +Richard Vandermarck has them both abundantly. For me, I think the +pretty Miss Pauline would be safer as an hour's amusement than as a +life's companion."</p> +<p>The words stabbed, killed me. With an ejaculation that could +scarcely have escaped their ears, I sprang up and ran through the +hall and up the stairs. Before I reached the landing-place, I knew +that some one was behind me. I did not look or pause, but flew on +through the hall till I reached my own door. My own door was just +at the foot of the third-floor stairway. I glanced back, and saw +that it was Mr. Langenau who was behind me. I pushed open my door +and went half-way in the room; then with a vehement and sudden +impulse came back into the hall and pulled it shut again and stood +with my hand upon the latch, and waited for him to pass. In an +instant more he was near me, but not as if he saw me; he could not +reach the stairway without passing so near me that he must touch my +dress. I waited till he was so near, and said, "Mr. Langenau."</p> +<p>He raised his eyes steadily to mine and bowed low. I almost +choked for one instant, and then I found voice and rushed on +vehemently. "What she has told you is false; every word of it is +false. I am not engaged to Richard Vandermarck; I never thought of +such a thing till I came here, and found they talked about it. They +ought to be ashamed, and I will go away to-morrow. And what she +said about my mother is a wicked lie as well, at least in the way +she meant it; and I shall hate her all my life. I have been +motherless and lonely always, but God has cared for me, and I never +knew before what evil thoughts and ways there were. I am not +ashamed that I listened, though I didn't mean to stay at first. I'm +glad I heard it all and know what kind of friends I have. And those +last cruel words you said--I never will forgive you, +never--never--never till I die."</p> +<p>He had put his hand out toward me as if in conciliation, at +least I understood it so. I pushed it passionately away, rushed +into my room, bolted the door, and flung myself upon the bed with a +frightful burst of sobs. I heard his hand upon the latch of the +door, and he said my name several times in a low voice. Then he +went slowly up the stairs. And I think his room must have been +directly over mine, for, for hours I heard some one walking there; +indeed, it was the last sound I heard, when, having cried all my +tears and vowed all my vows, I fell asleep and forgot that I was +wretched.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII."></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<h3>SUNDAY.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote><i>La notte é madre di pensieri</i>.<br> +<br> +Now tell me how you are as to religion?<br> +You are a clear good man--but I rather fear<br> +You have not much of it.<br> +<i>Faust</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>It was all very well to talk about going away; but the matter +looked very differently by daylight. It was Sunday; and I knew I +could not go away for a day or two, and not even then without +making a horrid sort of stir, for which I had not the courage in +cold blood. Besides, I did not even know that I wanted to go if I +could. Varick-street! Hateful, hateful thought. No, I could not go +there. And though (by daylight) I still detested Mary Leighton, and +felt ashamed about Richard, and remembered all Mr. Langenau's words +(sweet as well as bitter), everything was let down a great many +degrees; from the heights of passion into the plains of +commonplace.</p> +<p>My great excitement had worked its own cure, and I was so dull +and weary that I did not even want to think of what had passed the +night before. If I had a sentiment that retained any strength, it +was that of shame and self-contempt. I could not think of myself in +any way that did not make me blush. When, however, it came to the +moment of facing every one, and going down to breakfast, I began to +know I still had some other feelings.</p> +<p>I was the last to go down. The bell had rung a very long while +before I left my room. I took my seat at the table without looking +at any one, though, of course, every one looked at me. My confused +and rather general good-morning was returned with much precision by +all. Somebody remarked that I did not look well. Somebody else +remarked that was surely because I went to bed so early; that it +never had been known to agree with any one. Some one else wanted to +know why I had gone so early, and that I had been hunted for in all +directions for a dance which had been a sudden inspiration.</p> +<p>"But as you had gone away, and the musician could not be found, +we had to give it up," said Charlotte Benson, "and we owe you both +a grudge."</p> +<p>"For my part, I am very sorry," said Mr. Langenau. "I had no +thought that you meant to dance last night, or I should have stayed +at the piano; I hope you will tell me the next time."</p> +<p>"The next time will be to-morrow evening," said Mary Leighton. +"Now, Mr. Langenau, you will not forget--or--or get excited about +anything and go away?"</p> +<p>I dared not look at Mr. Langenau's face, but I am sure I should +not have seen anything pleasant if I had. I don't know what he +answered, for I was so confused, I dropped a plate of berries which +I was just taking from Kilian's hand, and made quite an +uncomfortable commotion. The berries were very ripe, and they +rolled in many directions on the table-cloth, and fell on my white +dress.</p> +<p>"Your pretty dress is ruined, I'm afraid," said Kilian, stooping +down to save it.</p> +<p>"I don't care about that, but I'm very sorry that I've stained +the table-cloth," and I looked at Mrs. Hollenbeck as if I thought +that she would scold me for it. But she quite reassured me. Indeed, +I think she was so pleased with me, that she would not have minded +seeing me ruin all the table-cloths that she had.</p> +<p>"But it will make you late for church, for you'll have to change +your dress," said Charlotte Benson, practically, glancing at the +clock. I was very thankful for the suggestion, for I thought it +would save me from the misery of trying to eat breakfast, but +Kilian made such an outcry that I found I could not go without more +comments than I liked.</p> +<p>"You have no appetite either," said Mary Leighton. "I am ashamed +to eat as much as I want, for here is Mr. Langenau beside me, who +has only broken a roll in two and drank a cup of coffee."</p> +<p>"I am not perhaps quite used to your American way of +breakfasting," he returned quickly.</p> +<p>"But you ate breakfasts when we first came," said the sweet girl +gently.</p> +<p>"Was not the weather cooler then?" he answered, "and I have +missed my walk this morning."</p> +<p>"Let me give you some more coffee, at any rate," said Sophie, +with affectionate interest. Indeed, I think at that moment she +absolutely loved him.</p> +<p>In a few minutes I escaped from the table; when I came down from +my room ready for church, I found that they were all just starting. +(Richard, I suppose, would have waited for me.) The church was in +the village, and not ten minutes' walk from the house. Kilian was +carrying Mary Leighton's prayer-book, and was evidently intending +to walk with her.</p> +<p>Richard came up to me and said, "Sophie is waiting to know if +you will let her drive you, or if you will walk."</p> +<p>I had not yet been obliged to speak to Richard since I had heard +what people said about us, and I felt uncomfortable.</p> +<p>"Oh, let me drive if there is room," I said, without looking up. +Sophie sat in her little carriage waiting for me. Richard put me in +beside her, and then joined the others, while we drove away. Benny, +in his white Sunday clothes, sat at our feet.</p> +<p>"I think it is so much better for you to drive," said Mrs. +Hollenbeck, "for the day is warm, and I did not think you looked at +all well this morning."</p> +<p>"No," I said faintly. And she was so kind, I longed to tell her +everything. It is frightful at seventeen to have no one to tell +your troubles to.</p> +<p>At the gate Benny was just grumbling about getting out to open +it, when Mr. Langenau appeared, and held it open for us. He was +dressed in a flannel suit which he wore for walking. After he +closed the gate, he came up beside the carriage, as Mrs. Hollenbeck +very kindly invited him to do, by driving slowly.</p> +<p>"Are you coming with us to church, Mr. Langenau?" asked +Benny.</p> +<p>"To church? No, Benny. I am afraid they would not let me +in."</p> +<p>"Why, yes, they would, if you had your good clothes on," said +Benny.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau laughed, a little bitterly, and said he doubted, +even then. "I am afraid I haven't got my good conscience on either, +Benny."</p> +<p>"But the minister would never know," said Benny.</p> +<p>"That's very true; the ministers here don't know much about +peoples' consciences, I should think."</p> +<p>"Do ministers in any other places know any more?" asked Benny +with interest.</p> +<p>"Why, yes, Benny, in a good many countries where I've been, they +do."</p> +<p>"You are a Catholic, Mr. Langenau?" asked Mrs. Hollenbeck.</p> +<p>"I once was; I have no longer any right to say it is my faith," +he answered slowly.</p> +<p>"What is it to be a Catholic?" inquired Benny, gazing at his +tutor's face with wonder.</p> +<p>"To be a Catholic, is to be in a safe prison; to have been a +Catholic, is to be alone on a sea big and black with billows, +Benny."</p> +<p>"I think I'd like the prison best," said Benny, who was very +much afraid of the water.</p> +<p>"Ah, but if you couldn't get back to it, my boy."</p> +<p>"Well, I think I'd try to get to land somewhere," Benny +answered, stoutly.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau laughed, but rather gloomily, and we went on for a +few moments in silence. The road was bordered with trees, and there +was a beautiful shade. The horse was very glad to be permitted to +go slow, not being of an ambitious nature.</p> +<p>All this time I had been leaning back, holding my parasol very +close over my face. Mr. Langenau happened to be on the side by me: +once when the carriage had leaned suddenly, he had put his hand +upon it, and had touched, without intending it, my arm.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," he had said, and that was all he had said +to me; and I had felt very grateful that Benny had been so inclined +to talk. I trusted that nobody would speak to me, for my voice +would never be steady and even again, I was sure, when he was by to +listen to it.</p> +<p>Now, however, he spoke to me: commonplace words, the same almost +that every one in the house had addressed to me that morning, but +how differently they sounded.</p> +<p>"I am sorry that you are not well to-day, Miss +d'Estrée."</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck at this moment began to find some fault with +Benny's gloves, and leaning down, talked very obligingly and +earnestly with him, while she fastened the gloves upon his +hands.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau took the occasion, as it was intended he should +take it, and said rather low, "You will not refuse to see me a few +moments this evening, that I may explain something to you?"</p> +<p>I think he was disappointed that I did not answer him, only +turned away my head. But I don't know in truth what other answer he +had any right to ask. He did not attempt to speak again, but as we +turned into the village, said, "Good-morning, I must leave you. +Good-bye, Benny, since I have neither clothes nor conscience fit +for church."</p> +<p>Sophie laughed, and said, at least she hoped he would be home +for dinner. He did not promise, but raising his hat struck off into +a little path by the roadside, that led up into the woods.</p> +<p>"What a pity," said Mrs. Hollenbeck musingly, "that a man of +such fine intellect should have such vague religious faith."</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was at home for dinner, but he did not see me at +that meal, for my head ached so, and I felt so weary that when I +came up-stairs after church, it seemed impossible to go down again. +I should have been very glad to make the same excuse serve for the +remainder of the day, but really the rest and a cup of tea had so +restored me, that no excuse remained at six o'clock.</p> +<p>All families have their little Sunday habits, I have found; the +Sunday rule in this house was, to have tea at half-past six, and to +walk by the river till after the sun had set; then to come home and +have sacred music in the parlor. After tea, accordingly, we took +our shawls on our arms (it still being very warm) and walked down +toward the river.</p> +<p>I kept beside Mrs. Hollenbeck and Benny, where only I felt +safe.</p> +<p>The criticism I had heard had given me such a shock, I did not +feel that I ever could be careful enough of what I said and did. +And I vaguely felt my mother's honor would be vindicated, if I +showed myself always a modest and prudent woman.</p> +<p>"It was so well that I heard them," I kept saying to myself, but +I felt so much older and so much graver. My silence and constraint +were no doubt differently interpreted. Richard did not come up to +me, except to tell me I had better put my shawl on, as I sat on the +steps of the boat-house, with Benny beside me. The others had +walked further on and were sitting, some of them on the rocks, and +some on the boat that had been drawn up, watching the sun go +down.</p> +<p>"Tell me a story," said Benny, resting his arms on my lap, "a +story about when you were a little girl."</p> +<p>"Oh, Benny, that wouldn't make a pretty story."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, it would: all about your mamma and the house you used +to live in, and the children you used to go to see."</p> +<p>"Dear Benny! I never lived in but one old, dismal house. I never +went to play with any children. I could not make a story out of +that."</p> +<p>"But your mamma. O yes, I'm sure you could if you tried very +hard."</p> +<p>"Ah, Benny! that's the worst of all. For my mamma has been with +God and the good angels in the sky, ever since I was a little baby, +and I have had a dreary time without her here alone."</p> +<p>"Then I think you might tell me about God and the good angels," +whispered Benny, getting closer to me.</p> +<p>I wrapped my arms around him, and leaning my face down upon his +yellow curls, told him a story of God and the good angels in the +sky.</p> +<p>Dear little Benny! I always loved him from that night. He cried +over my story: that I suppose wins everybody's heart: and we went +together, looking at the placid river and the pale blue firmament, +very far into the paradise of faith. My tears dropped upon his +upturned face; and when the stars came out, and we were told it was +time to go back to the house, we went back hand in hand, firm +friends for all life from that Sunday night.</p> +<p>"There is Mr. Langenau," said Benny; "waiting for you, I should +think."</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was waiting for me at the piazza steps. He fixed +his eyes on mine as if waiting for my permission to speak again. +But I fastened my eyes upon the ground, and holding Benny tightly +by the hand, went on into the house.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX."></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<h3>A DANCE.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote><b>It</b> is impossible to love and to be wise.<br> +<br> +<i>Bacon</i>.<br> +<br> +Niente piu tosto se secca che lagrime.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>"This is what we must do about it," said Kilian, as we sat +around the breakfast-table. "If you are still in a humor for the +dance to-night, I will order Tom and Jerry to be brought up at +once, and Miss Pauline and I will go out and deliver all the +invitations."</p> +<p>"Of which there are about five," said Charlotte Benson. "You can +spare Tom and Jerry and send a small boy."</p> +<p>"But what if I had rather go myself?" he said, "and Miss Pauline +needs the air. Now there are--let me see," and he began to count up +the dancing inhabitants of the neighborhood.</p> +<p>"Will you write notes or shall we leave a verbal message at each +door?"</p> +<p>"Oh leave a verbal message by all means," said Charlotte Benson, +a little sharply. "It won't be quite <i>en règle</i>, as +Miss d'Estrée doesn't know the people, but so unconventional +and fresh."</p> +<p>"I do know them," I retorted, much annoyed, "conventionally at +least: for they have all called upon me, though I didn't see them +all. But I shall be very glad if you will take my place."</p> +<p>"Oh, thank you; I wasn't moving an amendment for that end. We +have made our arrangements for the morning, irrespective of the +delivery of cards."</p> +<p>"I shall have time to write the notes first, if Sophie would +rather have notes sent," said Henrietta, who wrote a good hand and +was very fond of writing people's notes for them.</p> +<p>"Oh, thank you, dear; yes, perhaps it would be best, and save +Pauline and Kilian trouble."</p> +<p>So Henrietta went grandly away to write her little notes: a very +large ship on a very small voyage.</p> +<p>"And how about your music, Sophie," said Kilian, who was anxious +to have all business matters settled relating to the evening.</p> +<p>"Well, I suppose you had better go for the music-teacher from +the village; he plays very well for dancing, and it is a mercy to +me and to poor Henrietta, who would have to be pinned to the piano +for the evening, if we didn't have him."</p> +<p>"As to that, I thought we had a music-teacher of our own: can't +your German be made of any practical account? Or is he only to be +looked at and revered for his great powers?"</p> +<p>"I didn't engage Mr. Langenau to play for us to dance," said +Sophie.</p> +<p>"Nor to lounge about the parlor every evening either," muttered +Kilian, pushing away his cup of coffee.</p> +<p>"Now, Mr. Kilian, pray don't let our admiration of the tutor +drive you into any bitterness of feeling," cried Charlotte Benson, +who had been treasuring up a store of little slights from Kilian. +"You know he can't be blamed for it, poor man."</p> +<p>Kilian was so much annoyed that he did not trust himself to +answer, but rose from the table, and asked me if I would drive with +him in half an hour.</p> +<p>During the drive, he exclaimed angrily that Charlotte Benson had +a tongue that would drive a man to suicide if he came in hearing of +it daily. "Why, if she were as beautiful as a goddess, I could +never love her. Depend upon it, she'll never get a husband, Miss +Pauline."</p> +<p>"Some men like to be scolded, I have heard," I said.</p> +<p>"Well then, if you ever stumble upon one that does, just call me +and I'll run and fetch him Charlotte Benson."</p> +<p>The morning was lovely, and I had much pleasure in the drive, +though I had not gone with any idea of enjoying it. It was very +exhilarating to drive so fast as Kilian always drove; and Kilian +himself always amused me and made me feel at ease. We were very +companionable; and though I could not understand how young ladies +could make a hero of him, and fancy that they loved him, I could +quite understand how they should find him delightful and +amusing.</p> +<p>We delivered our notes, at more than one place, into the hands +of those to whom they were addressed, and had many pleasant talks +at the piazza steps with young ladies whom I had not known before. +Then we went to the village and engaged the music-teacher, stopped +at the "store" and left some orders, and drove to the Post-Office +to see if there were letters.</p> +<p>"Haven't we had a nice morning!" I exclaimed simply, as we drove +up to the gate.</p> +<p>"Capital," said Kilian. "I'm afraid it's been the best part of +the day. I wish I had any assurance that the German would be half +as pleasant. I beg your pardon, I don't mean your surly Teuton, but +the dance that we propose to-night; I wish it had another name. +Confound it! there he is ahead of us. (I don't mean the dance this +time, you see.) I wish he'd turn back and open the gate for us. +Holloa there!"</p> +<p>Kilian would not have dared call out, if the boys had not been +with their tutor. It was one o'clock, and they were coming from the +farm-house back to dinner. At the call they all turned; Mr. +Langenau stood still, and told Charles to go back and open the +gate.</p> +<p>Kilian frowned; he didn't like to see his nephew ordered to do +anything by this unpleasant German. While we were waiting for the +opening of the gate, the tutor walked on toward the house with +Benny. As we passed them, Benny called out, "Stop, Uncle Kilian, +stop, and take me in." Benny never was denied anything, so we +stopped and Mr. Langenau lifted him up in front of us. He bowed +without speaking, and Benny was the orator of the occasion.</p> +<p>"You looked as if you were having such a nice time, I thought +I'd like to come."</p> +<p>"Well, we were," said Kilian, with a laugh, and then we drove on +rapidly.</p> +<p>At the tea-table Mr. Langenau said to Sophie as he rose to go +away: "Mrs. Hollenbeck, if there is any service I can render you +this evening at the piano, I shall be very glad if you will let me +know."</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck thanked him with cordiality, but told him of the +provision that had been made.</p> +<p>"But you will dance, Mr. Langenau," cried Mary Leighton, "we +need dancing-men terribly, you know. Promise me you'll dance."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Charlotte Benson, "he has promised me." Mr. Langenau +bowed low; he got wonderfully through these awkward situations. As +he left the room Kilian said in a tone loud enough for us, but not +for him, to hear, "The Lowders have a nice young gardener; hadn't +we better send to see if he can't come this evening?"</p> +<p>"Kilian, that's going a little too far," said Richard in a +displeased manner; "as long as the boys' tutor conducts himself +like a gentleman, he deserves to be treated like a gentleman."</p> +<p>"Ah, Paterfamilias, thank you. Yes, I'll think of it," and +Kilian proposed that we should leave the table, as we all seemed to +have appeased our appetites and nothing but civil war could come of +staying any longer.</p> +<p>It was understood we had not much time to dress: but when I came +down-stairs, none of the others had appeared. Richard met me in the +hall: he had been rather stern to me all day, but his manner quite +softened as he stood beside me under the hall-lamp. That was the +result of my lovely white mull, with its mint of Valenciennes.</p> +<p>"You haven't any flowers," he said. Heavens! who'd have thought +he'd ever have spoken in such a tone again, after the cup of tea I +poured out for the tutor. "Let's go and see if we can't find some +in these vases that are fit, for I suppose the garden's +robbed."</p> +<p>"Yes," I said, following him, quite pleased. For I could not +bear to have him angry with me. I was really fond of him, dear, old +Richard; and I looked so happy that I have no doubt he thought more +of it than he ought. He pulled all the pretty vases in the parlor +to pieces: (Charlotte and Henrietta and his sister had arranged +them with such care!) and made me a bouquet of ferns, and +tea-roses, and lovely, lovely heliotrope. I begged him to stop, but +he went on till the flowers were all arranged and tied together, +and no one came down-stairs till the spoilage was complete.</p> +<p>All this time Mr. Langenau was in the library--restless, +pretending to read a book. I saw him as we passed the door, but did +not look again. Presently we heard the sound of wheels.</p> +<p>"There," said Richard, feeling the weight of hospitality upon +him, "Sophie isn't down. How like her!"</p> +<p>But at the last moment, to save appearances, Sophie came down +the stairs and went into the parlor: indolent, favored Sophie, who +always came out right when things looked most against it.</p> +<p>In a little while the empty rooms were peopled. Dress improved +the young ladies of the house very much, and the young ladies who +came were some of them quite pretty: The gentlemen seemed to me +very tiresome and not at all good-looking. Richard was quite a king +among them, with his square shoulders, and his tawny moustache, and +his blue eyes.</p> +<p>There were not quite gentlemen enough, and Mrs. Hollenbeck +fluttered into the library to hunt up Mr. Langenau, and he +presently came out with her. He was dressed with more care than +usual, and suitably for evening: he had the <i>vive</i> attentive +manner that is such a contrast to most young men in this country: +everybody looked at him and wondered who he was. The music-teacher +was playing vigorously, and so, before the German was arranged, +several impetuous souls flew away in waltzes up and down the room. +The parlor was a very large room. It had originally been two rooms, +but had been thrown into one, as some pillars and a slight arch +testified. The ceiling was rather low, but the many windows which +opened on the piazza, and the unusual size of the room, made it +very pretty for a dance. Mary Leighton and the tutor were dancing; +somebody was talking to me, but I only saw that.</p> +<p>"How well he dances," I heard some one exclaim.</p> +<p>I'm afraid it must have been Richard whom I forgot to answer +just before: for I saw him twist his yellow moustache into his +mouth and bite it; a bad sign with him.</p> +<p>Kilian was to lead with Mary Leighton, and he came up to where +we stood, and said to Richard, "I suppose you have Miss Pauline for +your partner?"</p> +<p>Now I had been very unhappy for some time, dreading the moment, +but there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. So I said, "I +hope you are not counting upon me for dancing? You know I cannot +dance!"</p> +<p>"Not dance!" cried Kilian, in amazement; "why, I never dreamed +of that."</p> +<p>"You don't like it, Pauline?" said Richard, looking at me.</p> +<p>"Like it!" I said, impatiently. "Why, I don't know how; who did +I ever have to dance with in Varick-street? Ann Coddle or old +Peter? And Uncle Leonard never thought of such a thing as sending +me to school."</p> +<p>"Why didn't you tell me before, and we wouldn't have bothered +about this stupid dance," said Kilian; but I think he didn't mean +it, for he enjoyed dancing very much.</p> +<p>Richard had to go away, for though he hated it, he was needed, +as they had not gentlemen enough.</p> +<p>The one or two persons who had been introduced to me, on going +to join the dance, also expressed regret. Even Mrs. Hollenbeck came +up, and said how sorry she was: she had supposed I danced.</p> +<p>But they all went away, and I was left by one of the furthest +windows with a tiresome old man, who didn't dance either, because +his legs weren't strong enough, and who talked and talked till I +asked him not to; which he didn't seem to like. But to have to +talk, with the noise of the music, and the stir, of the dancing, +and the whirl that is always going on in such a room, is penance. I +told him it made my head ache, and besides I couldn't hear, and so +at last he went away, and I was left alone.</p> +<p>Sometimes in pauses of the dance Richard came up to me, and +sometimes Kilian; but it had the effect of making me more +uncomfortable, for it made everybody turn and look at me. Bye and +bye I stole away and went on the piazza, and looked in where no one +could see me. I could not go away entirely, for I was fascinated by +the dance. I longed so to be dancing, and had such bitter feelings +because I never had been taught. After I left the room, I could see +Richard was uncomfortable; he looked often at the door, and was not +very attentive to his partner. No one else seemed to miss me. Mr. +Langenau talked constantly to Miss Lowder, with whom he had been +dancing, and never looked once toward where I had been sitting. A +long time after, when they had been dancing--hours it seemed to +me--Miss Lowder seemed to feel faint or tired, and Mr. Langenau +came out with her, and took her up-stairs to the dressing-room.</p> +<p>Ashamed to be seen looking in at the window, I ran into the +library and sat down. There was a student's lamp upon the table, +but the room had no other light. I sat leaning back in a large +chair by the table, with my bouquet in my lap, buttoning and +unbuttoning absently my long white gloves. In a moment I heard Mr. +Langenau come down-stairs alone: he had left Miss Lowder in the +dressing-room to rest there: he came directly toward the +library.</p> +<p>He came half-way in the door, then paused. "May I speak to you?" +he said slowly, fixing his eyes on mine. "I seem to be the only one +who is forbidden, of those who have offended you and of those who +have not."</p> +<p>"No one has said what you have," I said very faintly.</p> +<p>In an instant he was standing beside me, with one hand resting +on the table.</p> +<p>"Will you listen to me," he said, bending a little toward me and +speaking in a quick, low voice, "I did say what you have a right to +resent; but I said it in a moment when I was not master of my +words. I had just heard something that made me doubt my senses: and +my only thought was how to save myself, and not to show how I was +staggered by it. I am a proud man, and it is hard to tell you +this--but I cannot bear this coldness from you--and <i>I ask you to +forgive me</i>"</p> +<p>His eyes, his voice, had all their unconquerable influence upon +me. I bent over Richard's poor flowers, and pulled them to pieces +while I tried to speak. There was a silence, during which he must +have heard the loud beating of my heart, I think: at last he spoke +again in a lower voice, "Will you not be kind, and say that we are +friends once more?"</p> +<p>I said something that was inaudible to him, and he stooped a +little nearer me to catch it. I made a great effort and commanded +my voice and said, very low? but with an attempt to speak lightly, +"You have not made it any better, but I will forget it."</p> +<p>He caught my hand for one instant, then let it go as suddenly. +And neither of us could speak.</p> +<p>There is no position more false and trying than a woman's, when +she is told in this way that a man loves her, and yet has not been +told it; when she must seem not to see what she would be an idiot +not to see; when he can say what he pleases and she must seem to +hear only so much. I did no better and no worse than most women of +my years would have done. At last the silence (which did not seem a +silence to me, it was so full of new and conflicting thoughts,) was +broken by the recommencement of the music in the other room. He had +taken a book in his hands and was turning over its pages +restlessly.</p> +<p>"Why have you not danced?" he said at last, in a voice that +still showed agitation.</p> +<p>"I have not danced because I can't, because I never have been +taught."</p> +<p>"You? not taught? it seems incredible. But let me teach you. +Will you? Teach you! you would dance by intention. And would love +it--madly--as I did years ago. Come with me, will you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no," I said, half frightened, shrinking back, "I am not +going to dance--ever."</p> +<p>"Perhaps that is as well," he said in a low tone, meeting my eye +for an instant, and telling me by that sudden brilliant gleam from +his, that then he would be spared the pain of ever seeing me +dancing with another.</p> +<p>"But let me teach you something," he said after a moment. "Let +me teach you German--will you?" He sank down in a chair by the +table, and leaning forward, repeated his question eagerly.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, I should like it so much--if--."</p> +<p>"If--if what? If it could be arranged without frightening and +embarrassing you, you mean?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"I wonder if you are not more afraid of being frightened and +embarrassed than of any other earthly trial. There are worse things +that come to us, Miss d'Estrée. But I will arrange about the +German, and you need have no terror. How will I arrange? No +matter--when Mrs. Hollenbeck asks you to join a class in German, +you will join it, will you not?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> +<p>"You promise?"</p> +<p>"Oh, anything."</p> +<p>"Anything? take care. I may fill up a check for thousands, if +you give a blank."</p> +<p>"I didn't give a blank; anything about German's what I +meant."</p> +<p>"Ah, that's safer, but not half so generous. And yet you're one +who might be generous, I think."</p> +<p>"But tell me about the German class."</p> +<p>"I've nothing to tell you about it," he answered, "only that +you've promised to learn."</p> +<p>"But where are we to say our lessons, and what books are we to +Study?"</p> +<p>"Would you like to say a lesson now and get one step in advance +of all the others?"</p> +<p>"O yes! I shall need at least as much grace as that."</p> +<p>"Then say this after me: '<b>Ich will Alles lernen, was Sie mich +lehren</b>.' Begin. '<b>Ich will Alles lernen</b>'--"</p> +<p>"'<b>Ich will Alles lernen</b>'--but what does it mean?"</p> +<p>"Oh, that is not important. Learn it first. Can you not trust +me? '<b>Ich will Alles lernen, was Sie mich lehren.</b>'"</p> +<p>"'<b>Ich will Alles lernen</b>'--ah, you look as if my +pronunciation were not good."</p> +<p>"I was not thinking of that; you pronounce very well. '<b>Ich +will Alles lernen</b>--'"</p> +<p>"<b>Ich will Alles lernen, was Sie mich lehren</b>:--there +<i>now</i>, tell me what it means."</p> +<p>"Not until you learn it; <i>encore une fois</i>."</p> +<p>I said it after him again and again, but when I attempted it +alone, I made invariably some error.</p> +<p>"Let me write it for you," he said, and pulling a book from his +pocket, tore out a leaf and wrote the sentence on it. "There--keep +the paper and study it, and say it to me in the morning."</p> +<p>I have the paper still; long years have passed: it is only a +crumpled little yellow fragment; but the world would be poorer and +emptier to me if it were destroyed.</p> +<p>I had quite mastered the sentence, saying it after him word for +word, and held the slip of paper in my hand, when I heard steps in +the hall. I knew Richard's step very well, and gave a little start. +Mr. Langenau frowned, and his manner changed, as I half rose from +my seat, and as quickly sank back in it again.</p> +<p>"Is it that you lack courage?" he said, looking at me +keenly.</p> +<p>"I don't know what I lack," I cried, bending down my head to +hide my flushed face; "but I hate to be scolded and have +scenes."</p> +<p>"But who has a right to scold you and to make a scene?"</p> +<p>"Nobody: only everybody does it all the same."</p> +<p>"Everybody, I suppose, means Mr. Richard Vandermarck, who is +frowning at you this moment from the hall."</p> +<p>"And it means you--who are frowning at me this moment from your +seat."</p> +<p>All this time Richard had been standing in the hall; but now he +walked slowly away. I felt sure he had given me up. The people +began to come out of the parlor, and I felt ready to cry with +vexation, when I thought that they would again be talking about me. +It was true, I am afraid, that I lacked courage.</p> +<p>"You want me to go away?" he said, fixing his eyes intently on +me.</p> +<p>"O yes, if you only would," I said naïvely.</p> +<p>He looked so white and angry when he rose, that I sprang up and +put out my hand to stop him, and said hurriedly, "I only +meant--that is--I should think you would understand without my +telling you. A woman cannot bear to have people talk about her, and +know who she likes and who she doesn't. It kills me to have people +talk about me. I'm not used to society--I don't know what is +right--but I don't think--I am afraid--I ought not to have stayed +in here and talked to you away from all the others. It's that that +makes me so uncomfortable. That, and Richard too. For I know he +doesn't like to have me pleased with any one. Do not go away angry +with me. I don't see why you do not understand."</p> +<p>My incoherent little speech had brought him to his senses.</p> +<p>"I am not going away angry," he said in a low voice, "I will +promise not to speak to you again to-night. Only remember that I +have feelings as well as Mr. Richard Vandermarck."</p> +<p>In a moment more I was alone. Richard did not come near me, nor +seem to notice me, as he passed through the hall. Presently Mr. +Eugene Whitney came in, and I was very glad to see him.</p> +<p>"Won't you take me to walk on the piazza?" I asked, for +everybody else was walking there. He was only too happy; and so the +evening ended commonplace enough.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X."></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<h3>EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>She wanted years to understand<br> +The grief that he did feel.<br> +<br> +<i>Surrey</i>.<br> +<br> +Love is not love<br> +That alters where it alteration finds.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>This was how the German class was formed.</p> +<p>The next day, as we were leaving the dinner-table, Mr. Langenau +paused a few moments by Sophie, in the hall, and talked with her +about the boys.</p> +<p>"Charley gets on very well with his German," he observed, "but +Benny doesn't make much progress. He is too young to study much, +and acquires chiefly by the ear. If you only had a German maid, or +if you could speak with him yourself, he would make much better +progress."</p> +<p>"Yes, I wish I had more knowledge of the language," she replied; +"I read it very easily, but cannot speak with any fluency."</p> +<p>"Why will you never speak it with me?" he said. "And if you will +permit me, I shall be very glad to read with you an hour a day. I +have much leisure, and it would be no task to me."</p> +<p>"I should like it very much, and you are very kind. But it is so +hard to find an hour unoccupied, particularly with so many people +in the house, whom I ought to entertain."</p> +<p>"That is very true, unless you can make it a source of +entertainment to them. Miss Benson--is she not a German scholar? +She might like to join you."</p> +<p>Then, I think, the clever Sophie's mind was illuminated, and the +tutor's little scheme was revealed to her clear eye; she embraced +it with effusion. "An admirable idea," she said, "and the others, +too, perhaps, would join us if you would not mind. It would be one +hour a day at least secure from <i>ennui:</i> I shall have great +cause to thank you, if we can arrange it. For these girls get so +tired of doing nothing; my mind is always on the strain to think of +an amusement. Charlotte! Come here, I want to ask you +something."</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson came, and with her came Henrietta. I was +sitting on the sofa between the parlor-doors, and could not help +hearing the whole conversation, as they were standing immediately +before me.</p> +<p>"Mr. Langenau proposes to us to read an hour a day with him in +German. What do you think about it?"</p> +<p>"Charming," said Charlotte with enthusiasm. "I cannot think of +anything that would give me greater pleasure. Henrietta and I have +read in German together for two winters, and it will be enchanting +to continue it with such a master as Mr. Langenau."</p> +<p>Henrietta murmured her satisfaction, and then Charlotte rushed +into plans for the course, leaving me in despair, supposing I had +been forgotten. What place I was to find in such advanced society I +could not well imagine.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau never turned his head in my direction, and talked +with Miss Benson with so much earnestness about the books into +which they were to plunge, that I could not convince myself that +all this was undertaken solely that he might teach me German. In a +little while they seemed to have settled it all to their +satisfaction, and he had turned to go away. My heart was in my +throat. Mrs. Hollenbeck had not forgotten me. She said something +low to Mr. Langenau.</p> +<p>"Ah, true!" he said. "But does she know anything of German?" +Then turning to me he said, with one of his dazzling sudden +glances, "Miss d'Estrée, we are talking of making up a +German class; do you understand the language?"</p> +<p>"No," I said, meeting his eye for a moment, "I have only taken +one lesson in my life," and then blushed scarlet at my own +audacity.</p> +<p>"Ah," said he, as if quite sorry for the disappointment, "I wish +you were advanced enough to join us."</p> +<p>Then Charlotte Benson, quite ignoring the interruption, began to +ask him about a book that she wanted very much to find. Mr. +Langenau had it in his room--a most happy accident, and there was a +great deal said about it. I again was left in doubt of my fate. +Again Sophie interposed. "We have forgotten Mary Leighton," she +said, gently.</p> +<p>"Does Miss Leighton know anything of German?"</p> +<p>"Not a thing," said Henrietta.</p> +<p>"What does she know anything of, but flirting?" said Charlotte +with asperity, glancing out into the grounds where Kilian was +murmuring softest folly to her under her pongee parasol.</p> +<p>"Perhaps she'd like to learn," suggested Sophie. "She and +Pauline might begin together; that is, if Mr. Langenau would not +think it too much trouble to give them an occasional suggestion. +And you, Charlotte, I am sure, could help them a great deal."</p> +<p>Charlotte made no disguise of her disinclination to undertake to +help them.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau expressed his willingness so unenthusiastically, +that I think Mrs. Hollenbeck was staggered. I saw her glance +anxiously at him, as if to know what really he might mean. She +concluded to interpret according to the context, however, and went +on.</p> +<p>"But it will be so much better for all to undertake it, if one +does. Suppose they try and see how it will work, either before or +after our lesson."</p> +<p>"<i>De tout mon coeur</i>," said Mr. Langenau, as if, however, +his <i>coeur</i> had very little interest in the matter.</p> +<p>"Well, about the hour?" said Charlotte, the woman of business; +"we haven't settled that after all our talking."</p> +<p>There was a great deal more, oh, a great deal more, and then it +was settled that five in the afternoon should be considered the +German hour--subject to alteration as circumstances should +arise.</p> +<p>Mrs. Hollenbeck very discreetly ordered that a beginning should +not be made till the next day but one. "The gentlemen will all be +here to-morrow, and there may be something else going on." I knew +very well she was afraid of Richard, and thought he would not +approve her zeal for our improvement.</p> +<p>The first lesson was very dull work for me. It was agreed that +Mary Leighton and I should take our lesson after the others, +sitting beside them, however, for the benefit of such crumbs of +information as might fall to us.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau took no special notice of me then, and very little +that was flattering when Mary Leighton and I began our lesson +proper. Mrs. Hollenbeck, Charlotte, and Henrietta took up their +books and left, when the infant class was called. I do not think +Mr. Langenau took great pains to make the study of the German +tongue of interest to Miss Leighton. She was unspeakably bored, and +never even learned the alphabet. She was very much unused to mental +application, undoubtedly, and was annoyed at appearing dull. There +was but one door open to her; to vote German a bore, and give up +the class. She made her exit by that door on the occasion of the +second lesson, and Mr. Langenau and I were left to pursue our +studies undisturbed. The rendezvous was the piazza in fine weather, +and the library when it was damp or cloudy. The fidelity with which +the senior Germans gathered up their books and left, when their +hour was over, was mainly due to the kind thoughtfulness of Mrs. +Hollenbeck, who was always prompt, and always found some excuse for +carrying away Charlotte and Henrietta with her when she went.</p> +<p>It can be imagined what those hours were to me, those soft, +golden afternoons. Sometimes we took our books and went out under +the trees to some shaded seats, and sat there till the maid came +out to call us in to tea. Happy, happy hours in dreamland! But what +peril to me, and perhaps to him. It is vain to go over it all: it +is enough that of all the happy days, that hour from six o'clock +till tea-time was the happiest: and that with strange smoothness, +day after day passed on without bringing interruption to it. At six +the others went to ride or walk; I was never called, and did not +even wonder at it.</p> +<p>All this time Richard had been going every day to town and +coming back by the evening train. It was pretty tiresome work, and +he looked rather pale and worn; but I believe he could not stay +away. I sometimes felt a little sorry when I saw how much he was +out of spirits, but I was in such a happy realm myself, it did not +depress me long: in truth, I forgot it when he was not actually +before me, and sometimes even then. "I do not think you are +listening to what I say," he said to me one night as he sat by me +in the parlor. I blushed desperately, and tried to listen better. +Ah! how often it happened after that. I blush again to think how +much I pained him, and how silently he bore it all.</p> +<p>The last days of July were very busy ones in the Wall-street +office, and Richard did not give himself a holiday, till one +Saturday, much to be remembered, the very last day of the month. I +recall with penitence, the impatient feeling that I had when +Richard told me he was going to take the day at home. I felt +intuitively that it would spoil it all for me. After breakfast, we +all played croquet, and then I shut myself into my room with my +German books, and selfishly saw no one till dinner. At dinner I was +excited and half frightened, as I always was when Mr. Langenau and +Richard were both present, and both watching me; it was impossible +to please either.</p> +<p>Something was said about the afternoon, and Richard (who all +this time knew nothing of the German class) said to me, evidently +afraid of some other engagement being entered on, "I hope you will +drive with me, Pauline, at five. I ordered the horses when I was +down at the stables; I think the afternoon is going to be fine." It +was rather a public way of asking one out of so many to go and take +a drive; but in truth, Richard was too honest and straightforward +to care who knew what he was in pursuit of, and too sore at heart +and too indifferent an actor to conceal it if he had desired. But +the invitation struck me with such consternation. At five o'clock! +The flower and consummation of the day! The hour that I had been +looking forward to, since seven the day before. I could not lose +it. I would not go to drive. I hated Richard. I hated going to +drive. I grew very brave, and was on the point of saying that I +could not go, when I caught Sophie's eye. She made me a quick sign, +which I dared not disobey. I blushed crimson, and did not lift my +eyes again, but said in a low voice that I would go. Then my heart +seemed to turn to lead, and all the glory and pleasure of the day +was gone. It seemed to me of such vast importance, of such endless +duration, this penance that I was to undergo. O lovers! Foolish, +foolish men and women! I was like a child balked of its holiday; I +wanted to cry--I longed to get away by myself. I did not dare to +look at any one.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau excused himself, and left the table before the +others went away. As we were leaving the table, Sophie, passing +close by me, said quite low, "I would not say anything about the +German class, Pauline. And it was a great deal better that you +should go; you know Richard has not many holidays."</p> +<p>"Yes, but you don't give up all your pleasures for him," I +thought, but did not say.</p> +<p>I went quickly to my room, and saw no one till I came +down-stairs at five o'clock. I had on a veil, for my face was +rather flushed, and my eyes somewhat the worse for crying. Richard +was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, and accompanied me +silently to the wagon, which stood at the door. As we passed the +parlor I could see, on the east piazza, Mr. Langenau and Charlotte +already at their books. Both were so engrossed that they did not +look up as we went through the hall. For that, Richard, poor +fellow! had to suffer. I was too unreasonable to comprehend that +Mr. Langenau's absorbed manner was a covering for his pique. It was +enough torture to have to lose my lesson, without seeing him +engrossed with some one else, whose fate was happier than mine. +Perhaps, after all, he was fascinated by Charlotte Benson. She was +bright, clever, and understood him so well. She admired him so +much. She was, I was sure, half in love with him. (The day before I +had concluded she liked Richard very much.) That was a very +disagreeable drive. I complained of the heat. The sun hurt my +eyes.</p> +<p>"We can go back, if you desire it," said Richard, with a shade +of sternness in his voice, stopping the horses suddenly, after two +miles of what would have been ill-temper if we had been married, +but was now perhaps only petulance.</p> +<p>"I don't desire it," I said, quite frightened, "but I do wish we +could go a little faster till we get into the shade."</p> +<p>After that, there was naturally very little pleasure in +conversation. I felt angry with Richard and ashamed of myself. For +him, I am afraid his feelings were very bitter, and his silence the +cover of a sore heart. We had started to take a certain drive; we +both wished it over, I suppose, but both lacked courage to shorten +it, or go home before we were expected. There was a brilliant +sunset, but I am sure we did not see it: then the clouds gathered +and the twilight came on, and we were nearly home.</p> +<p>"Pauline," said Richard, hoarsely, not looking at me, and +insensibly slackening the hold he had upon the reins; "will you let +me say something to you? I want to give you some advice, if you +will listen to me."</p> +<p>"I don't want anybody to advise me," I said in alarm, "and I +don't know what right you have to expect me to listen to you, +Richard, unless it is that I am your guest; and I shouldn't think +that was any reason why I should be made to listen to what isn't +pleasant to me."</p> +<p>The horses started forward, from the sudden emphasis of +Richard's pull upon the reins; and that was all the answer that I +had to my most unjustifiable words. Not a syllable was spoken after +that; and in a few moments we were at the house. Richard silently +handed me out; if I had been thinking about him I should have been +frightened at the expression of his face, but I was not: I was only +thinking--that we were at home, and that I was going to have the +happiness of meeting Mr. Langenau.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI."></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<h3>SOPHIE'S WORK.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>A nature half transformed, with qualities<br> +That oft betrayed each other, elements<br> +Not blent, but struggling, breeding strange effects<br> +Passing the reckoning of his friends or foes.<br> +<br> +<i>George Eliot</i>.<br> +<br> +High minds of native pride and force<br> +Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse!<br> +Fear for their scourge, mean villains have,<br> +Thou art the torturer of the brave.<br> +<br> +<i>Scott</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>This was what Sophie had done: she had invoked forces that she +could not control, and she felt, as people are apt to feel when +they watch their monster growing into strength, a little frightened +and a little sorry. No doubt it had seemed to her a very small +thing, to favor the folly of a girl of seventeen, fascinated by the +voice and manner of a nameless stranger; it was a folly most +manifest, but she had nothing to do with it, and was not +responsible; a very small thing to allow, and to encourage what, +doubtless, she flattered herself, her discouragement could not have +subdued. It was very natural that she should not wish Richard to +many any one; she was not more selfish than most sisters are. Most +sisters do not like to give their brothers up. She would have to +give up her home (one of her homes, that is,) as well. She did not +think Richard's choice a wise one: she was not subject to the +fascination of outline and coloring that had subjugated him, and +she felt sincerely that she was the best judge. If Richard must +marry (though in thinking of her own married life, she could not +help wondering why he must), let him marry a woman who had fortune, +or position, or talent. Of course there was a chance that this one +might have money, but that would be according to the caprice of a +selfish old man, who had never been known to show any affection for +her.</p> +<p>But money was not what Richard wanted: his sister knew much +better what Richard wanted, than he knew himself. He wanted a +clever woman, a woman who would keep him before the world and rouse +him into a little ambition about what people thought of him. Sophie +was disappointed and a little frightened when she found that +Richard did not give up the outline and coloring pleasantly. She +had thought he would be disillusionized, when he found he was +thrown over for a German tutor, who could sing. She had not counted +upon seeing him look ill and worn, and finding him stern and silent +to her; to her, of whom he had always been so fond. She found he +was taking the matter very seriously, and she almost wished that +she had not meddled with the matter.</p> +<p>And this German tutor--who could sing--well, it was strange, but +he was the worst feature of her Frankenstein, and the one at which +she felt most sorry and most frightened. Richard was very bad, to +be sure, but he would no doubt get over it: and if it all came out +well, she would be the gainer. As to "this girl for whom his heart +was sick," she had no manner of patience with her or pity for +her.</p> +<p>"She must suffer: so do all;" she would undoubtedly have a hard +future, no matter to which of these men who were so absurd about +her, Fate finally accorded her: hard, if she married Richard +without loving him (nobody knew better than Sophie how hard that +sort of marriage was); hard, if she married the German, to suffer a +lifetime of poverty and ill-temper and jealous fury. But about all +that, Sophie did not care a straw. She knew how much women could +live through, and it seemed to be their business to be +wretched.</p> +<p>But this man! And she could not gain anything by what he +suffered, with his dangerous nature, his ungovernable jealousy, his +possibly involved and unknown antecedents; what was to become of +him, in case he could not have this girl of whom six weeks ago he +had not heard? A pretty candidate to present to "mon oncle" of the +Wall-street office, for the hand of the young lady trusted to their +hospitality--a very pretty candidate--a German tutor--who could +sing. If he took her, it was to be feared he would have to take her +without more dowry than some very heavy imprecations. But could he +take her, even thus? Sophie had some very strange misgivings. This +man was desperately unhappy: was suffering frightfully: it made her +heart ache to see the haggard lines deepening on his face, to see +his colorless lips and restless eyes. She was sorry for him, as a +woman is apt to be sorry for a fascinating man. And then she was +frightened, for he was "no carpet knight so trim," to whom cognac, +and cigars, and time would be a balm: this man was essentially +dramatic, a dangerous character, an article with which she was +unfamiliar. He was frantic about this silly girl: that was plain to +see. Why then was he so wretched, seeing she was as irrationally in +love with him?</p> +<p>"If it only comes out right," she sighed distrustfully many +times a day. She resolved never to interfere with anything again, +but it came rather late, seeing she probably had done the greatest +mischief that she ever would be permitted to have a hand in while +she lived. She made up her mind not to think anything about it, +but, unfortunately for that plan, she could not get out of sight of +her work. If she had been a man, she would probably have gone to +the Adirondacks. But being a woman she had to stay at home, and sit +down among the tangled skeins which she had not skill to +straighten.</p> +<p>"If it only comes out right," she sighed again, the evening of +that most uncomfortable drive, "If it only comes out right." But it +did not look much like it.</p> +<p>I had gone directly in to tea, and so had Richard. Richard's +face silenced and depressed everybody at the table; and Mr. +Langenau did not come.</p> +<p>"There is going to be a terrible shower," said some one, and +before the sentence was ended, there was a vivid flash of lightning +that made the candles pale.</p> +<p>"How rapidly it has come up," said Sophie. "Was the sky black +when you came in, Richard?"</p> +<p>"I do not know," said Richard, and nobody doubted that he told +the truth.</p> +<p>"It had begun to darken before we came up from the river." said +Charlotte Benson. "The clouds were rising rapidly as we came in. It +will be a fearful tempest."</p> +<p>"Are the windows all shut?" said Sophie to the servant.</p> +<p>"I should think so," exclaimed Kilian. "The heat is horrid."</p> +<p>"Yes, it is suffocating," said Richard, getting up.</p> +<p>As he went out of the dining-room, some one, I think Henrietta, +said, "Well, I hope Mr. Langenau will get in safely; he was out on +the river when we were on the hill."</p> +<p>The storm was so sudden and so furious that everybody was +concerned at hearing this; even Kilian made some exclamation of +alarm.</p> +<p>"Does he know anything about a boat?" he asked of Richard, who +had paused in the doorway, hearing what was said.</p> +<p>"I have no idea," said Richard, shortly, but he did not go +away.</p> +<p>"It isn't the sail-boat that he has, of course," said Kilian, +thoughtfully. "He always goes out to row, I believe."</p> +<p>"Why, no," said Charlotte Benson, "he's in the sail-boat; don't +you remember saying, Henrietta, how bright the gleam of the sunset +was on the sail, and all the water was so dark?"</p> +<p>Kilian came to his feet very suddenly at these words.</p> +<p>"That's a bad business," he said quickly to his brother. "I've +no idea he can manage her in such a squall."</p> +<p>Sophie gave a little scream, and Charlotte and Henrietta both +grew very pale, as a frightful shock of thunder followed. The wind +was furious, and the unfastened shutters in various parts of the +house sounded like so many reports of pistols, and in an instant +the whole force of the rain fell suddenly and at once upon the +windows. Somewhere some glass was shattered, and all these sounds +added to the sense of danger, and the darkness was so great and so +sudden, that it was difficult to realize that half an hour before, +the sunset could have whitened the sails of a boat upon the +river.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid it's too late to do much now," said Kilian, stopping +in front of his brother in the doorway.</p> +<p>"What's the use of talking in that way," returned Richard in a +hoarse, low voice. "If you hav'nt more sense than to talk so before +women, you can stay at home with them," he continued, striding +across the hall, and picking up a lantern that stood in a corner +near the door. Charlotte Benson caught up one of the candles from +the table, and ran to him and lit the lamp within the lantern. +Sophie threw a cloak over Kilian's shoulders, and Henrietta flew to +carry a message to the kitchen. Richard pulled a bell that was a +signal to the stable (the stable was very near the house), and in +almost a moment's time two men, beside Kilian, were following him +out into the tempest. We saw their lanterns flicker for an instant, +and then they were swallowed up in the darkness. The fury of the +storm increased every moment. The flashes of lightning were but a +few seconds apart, and the roll of thunder was incessant. Every few +moments, above this continued roar, would come an appalling crash +which sounded just above our heads. The children were screaming +with fear, the servants had come into the hall and seemed in a +helpless sort of panic. Sophie was very pale and Mary Leighton +clung hysterically to her. Charlotte Benson was the only one who +seemed to be self-possessed enough to have done anything, if there +had been anything to do. But there was not. All we could do was to +try to behave ourselves with fortitude in view of the personal +danger, and with composure in view of that of others. Presently +there came a lull in the tempest, and we began to breathe freer; +some one went to the door and opened it. A gust of cold wind swept +through the hall and put out the lamp, at which the children and +Mary Leighton renewed their cries of fright.</p> +<p>The respite in the tempest was but temporary; before the lamp +was relit and order restored, the storm had burst again upon us. +This was, if anything, fiercer, but shorter lived. After fifteen or +twenty minutes' rage, it subsided almost utterly, and we could hear +it taking itself off across the heavens. I suppose the whole storm, +from its beginning to its end, had not occupied more than three +quarters of an hour, but it had seemed much longer.</p> +<p>We were very glad to open the door and let the cool, damp air +into the hall. The children were taken up-stairs, consoled with the +promise that word should be sent to them when their uncles should +return. The servants went feebly off to their domain; one was sent +to sweep the piazza, for the rain had beaten in such torrents upon +it that it was impossible to walk there, till it should be brushed +away. Wrapped in their shawls, Henrietta and Charlotte Benson +walked up and down the space that the servant swept, and watched +and listened for a long half-hour. I took a cloak from the rack +and, leaning against the door-post, stood and listened +silently.</p> +<p>From the direction of the river there was nothing to be heard. +There was still distant thunder, but that was the only sound, that +and the dripping of the rain off the leaves of the drenched trees. +The wind was almost silent, and in the spaces of the broken clouds +there were occasional faint stars. A fine, young tree, uprooted by +the tempest, lay across the carriage-way before the house, its +topmost branches resting on the steps of the piazza: the grass was +strewed with leaves like autumn, and the paths were simply pools of +water. Sophie, more than once, came to the door, and begged us to +come in, for fear of the dampness and the cold, but no one heeded +her suggestion. Even she herself came out very often, and looked +and listened anxiously. Finally my ear caught a sound: I ran down +the steps, and bent forward eagerly. There was some one coming +along the garden-path that led up from the river. I could hear the +water plashing as he walked, and he was coming rapidly. In a moment +the others heard it too, and starting to the steps, stood still, +and waited breathlessly. He had no lantern, for we could have seen +that; he was almost at the steps before I could recognize him. It +was Richard. I gave a smothered cry, and springing forward, held +out my hands to stop him.</p> +<p>"Tell me what has happened." He put aside my hands, and went +past me without a second look.</p> +<p>"There has nothing happened, but what he can tell you when he +comes," he said, as he strode past me up the steps, and on into the +house. Then he was alive to tell me: the reaction was a little too +strong for me, and I sat down on the steps to try and recover +myself, for I was ill and giddy.</p> +<p>In a few moments more, more steps sounded in the distance, this +time slowly, several persons coming together. I started and ran up +the steps, I don't exactly know why, and stood behind the others, +who were crowding down, servants and all, to hear what was the +news. Kilian came first, very drenched, and spattered, and subdued +looking, then Mr. Langenau, leaning upon one of the men, very pale, +but making an attempt to smile and speak reassuringly to Sophie, +who met him with looks of great alarm. It evidently gave him +dreadful pain to move, and when he reached the house he was quite +faint. Charlotte Benson placed a chair, into which they supported +him.</p> +<p>"Run, Pauline, and get some brandy," said Sophie, putting a +bunch of keys into my hand without looking at me.</p> +<p>When I came back with the glass of brandy, he was conscious +again, and looked at me and took the glass from my hand. The other +man had been sent for the doctor from the village, who was expected +every moment, and Mr. Langenau, who was now revived by stimulants, +was quite reassuring, and attempted to laugh at us for being so +much frightened. Then the young ladies' curiosity got the better of +their terror, and they clamored for the history of the past two +hours. This history was given them principally by Kilian. I cannot +repeat it satisfactorily, for the reason that I don't know anything +about jibs, and bowsprits, and masts, and centre-boards, and I did +not understand it at the time; but I received enough out of the +mass of evidence presented in that language, to be sure that there +had been considerable danger, and that everybody had behaved well. +In fact, Kilian's changed manner toward the tutor of itself was +quite enough to show that he had behaved unexpectedly well.</p> +<p>The unvarnished and unbowspritted and unjib-boomed tale was +pretty much as follows: Mr. Langenau had found himself in the +middle of the river, when the storm came on. I am afraid he could +not have been thinking very much about the clouds, not to have +noticed that a storm was rising; though every one agreed that they +had never known anything like the rapidity of its coming up. Before +he knew what he was about, a squall struck him, and he had great +difficulty to right the boat. (Then followed a good deal about +luffing and tacking and keeping her taut to windward; that is, I +think that was where he wanted to keep her.) But whatever it was, +he didn't succeed in doing it, and Kilian vouchsafed to say nobody +could have done it. Then something split: I really cannot say +whether it was the mast, or the bowsprit, or the centre-board, but +whatever it was, it hurt Mr. Langenau so much that for a moment he +was stunned. And then Kilian cannot see why he wasn't drowned. When +he came to himself he was still holding the rudder in his hand.</p> +<p>The other arm was useless from the falling of--this thing that +split--upon it. And so the boat was floundering about in the gale +till it got righted, and it was Mr. Langenau's presence of mind +that saved him and the boat, for he never let go the rudder, and +controlled her as far as he could, though he did not know where he +was going, the blackness was so great, and the flashes did not show +him the shore; and he was like one placed in the midst of a +frightful sea wakened out of a dream, owing to the blow and the +unconsciousness which followed.</p> +<p>Then Richard came upon the stage as hero; he and one of the men +had gone out in the only boat at hand, a very small one, toward the +speck, which, by the flashes of lightning, he saw out upon the +river. It was almost impossible to overhaul her, and it could not +have been done at the rate she was going, of course; but then +occurred that accident which rendered Mr. Langenau unconscious, and +which brought things to a standstill for a moment. Kalian said we +did not know anything about the storm up here at the house; that +more than one tree had been struck within a few feet of him on the +shore. The river was surging; the wind was furious; no one could +imagine what it was who had not witnessed it, and he, for his part, +never expected to see Richard come back to land. But Richard did +come back, and brought back the disabled sail-boat and the injured +man. That was the end of the story; which thrilled us all very +much, as we knew the heroes, and had one of them before us, ghastly +pale but uncomplaining.</p> +<p>It seemed as if the doctor never would come! We were women, and +we naturally looked to the coming of the doctor as the end of all +the trouble. It was impossible to make the poor fellow comfortable. +He could not lie down, he could not move without excruciating pain, +and very frequently he grew quite faint. Charlotte Benson and +Sophie administered stimulants; endeavored to ease his position +with pillows and footstools; and did all the nameless soothing acts +that efficient and good nurses alone understand; while I, paralyzed +and mute, stood aside, scarcely able to bear the sight of his +sufferings. I am sorry to say, I don't think he cared at all to +have me by him. He was in such pain that he cared only for the +attendance of those who could alleviate it in a measure; and the +strong firm hand and the skilled touch were more to him than the +presence of one who had nothing but excited and unavailing sympathy +to offer. It was rather a stern fact walking into my dreamland, +this.</p> +<p>By and bye Kilian went away to take off his wet clothes, and he +did not come back again, but sent down a message to his sister that +he was very tired and should go to bed, but if he were wanted for +anything he could be called. This was not heroic of Kilian, but, +after the manner of men, he was apt to keep away from the sight of +disagreeable things.</p> +<p>After all, he could not do much good, but it was something to +feel there was a man to call upon, besides Patrick, who was stupid; +and I saw Charlotte Benson's lip curl when Kilian's message was +brought down.</p> +<p>Richard was in his room: we all thought he had done enough for +one night, and had a right to rest.</p> +<p>At last, after the most weary waiting, wheels were heard, and +the doctor drove up to the door. The servants had begun to look +very sleepy. Mary Leighton had slipped away to her room, and Sophie +had told Henrietta and me to go, for we were really of no earthly +use. We did not take her advice as a compliment, and did not go. +Henrietta opened the door for the doctor, which was doing something +though not much, as two of the maids stood prepared to do it if she +did not.</p> +<p>The doctor was a reassuring, quiet man, and became a pillar of +strength at once. After talking a few moments with Mr. Langenau, +and pulling and twisting him rather ruthlessly, he walked a little +away with Sophie, and told her he wanted him got at once to his +room, and he should need the assistance of one of the gentlemen. +Would not Patrick do? Besides Patrick. Mr. Langenau's shoulder was +dislocated, badly, and it must be set at once. It was a painful +operation and he needed help. I was within hearing of this, and I +was in great alarm. Sophie looked so too, and I don't think she +liked disagreeable things any better than her brother, but she was +a woman, and could not shirk them as he could.</p> +<p>"Pauline," she said, finding me at her side as she turned, "run +up and tell Richard that he must come down, quick. Tell him how it +is, and that he must make haste."</p> +<p>I ran up the stairs breathlessly, but feeling all the time that +it was rather hard that I must be sent to Richard with this +message. Sophie did not want to ask him to come down herself, and +she thought me the most likely ambassador to bring him, but it was +not a congenial embassy. Perhaps, however, she only asked me +because I happened to be nearest her, and she was rather upset by +what the doctor said.</p> +<p>I knocked at Richard's door.</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"Oh, they want you to come down-stairs a minute. There's +something to be done," panting and rather incoherent.</p> +<p>"What is to be done?"</p> +<p>"The Doctor's here, and he says he must have help."</p> +<p>"Where's Kilian?"</p> +<p>"Gone to bed."</p> +<p>Some suppressed ejaculation, and he pushed back his chair, and +rose, and came across the room: at least it sounded so, and I ran +down the stairs again. He followed me in a moment. The Doctor came +forward and talked to him a little while, and then Richard called +Patrick, and told Sophie to see that Mr. Langenau's room was +ready.</p> +<p>"How can he get up two pairs of stairs," said Charlotte Benson, +"when he cannot move an inch without such suffering?"</p> +<p>"That's very true," the Doctor said. "I doubt if he could bear +it. You have no room below?"</p> +<p>"Put a bed in the library," said Charlotte Benson, and in ten +minutes it was done; the servants no longer sleepy when they had +any definite order to fulfill.</p> +<p>"In the meantime," said Richard to his sister, "send those two +to bed," pointing out Henrietta and me.</p> +<p>"I've told them to go, but they won't," said Sophie, somewhat +sharply.</p> +<p>Henrietta walked off, rather injured, but I would not go.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau had another faint attack, and I was quite certain +he would die. Charlotte was making him breathe <i>sal volatile</i> +and Sophie ran to rub his hands. The Doctor was busy at the light +about something.</p> +<p>"The room is all ready," said the servant.</p> +<p>"Very well; now Mr. Richard, if you please," the Doctor +said.</p> +<p>"Pauline," said Richard, coming to me as I stood at the foot of +the balusters, "You can't do any good. You'd better go +up-stairs."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, "I think you're very cruel; I think you +might let me stay."</p> +<p>I suppose my wretchedness, and youthfulness, and folly softened +him again, and he said, very gently, "I don't mean to be unkind, +but it is best for you to go. You need not be so frightened: there +isn't any danger."</p> +<p>I moved slowly to obey him, but turned back and caught his hand +and whispered, "You won't let them hurt him, Richard?" and then ran +up the stairs. No doubt Richard thought I went to my own room; but +I spent the next hour on the landing-place, looking down into the +hall.</p> +<p>It was rather a serious matter, getting Mr. Langenau even into +the library, and it was well they had not attempted his own room. +Patrick was called, and with his assistance and Richard's, he began +to move across the hall. But half-way to the library-door, he +fainted dead away, and Richard carried him and laid him on the bed, +Patrick being worse than useless, having lost his head, and the +Doctor being a small man, and only strong in science.</p> +<p>Pretty soon the library-door closed, and Sophie and Charlotte +were excluded. They walked about the hall, talking in low tones, +and looking anxious. Later, there came groaning from within the +closed door, and Charlotte Benson wrung her hands and listened. The +groans continued for a long while: the misery of hearing them! +After a while they ceased: then Richard opened the door, hastily, +it seemed, and called "Sophie."</p> +<p>Sophie ran forward, and the door closed again. There was a long +silence, time enough for those who were outside to imagine all +manner of horrid possibilities. Then the Doctor and Richard came +out.</p> +<p>"How is he, Doctor?" said Charlotte Benson, bravely, going to +meet them, while I hung trembling over the landing-place.</p> +<p>"Oh better, better, very comfortable," said the Doctor, in his +calm professional tone.</p> +<p>I could not help thinking those groans had not denoted a very +high state of comfort; but maybe the Doctor knew best how people +with dislocated shoulders and broken ribs are apt to express their +sentiments of satisfaction.</p> +<p>I listened with more than interest to their plans for the night: +the Doctor was going away at once; two of the servants and Patrick +were to relieve each other in sitting by him, while Richard was to +throw himself on the sofa in the hall, to be at hand if anything +were needed.</p> +<p>"Which means, that you are to be awake all night," said +Charlotte Benson. "You have more need of rest than we. Let Sophie +and me take your place."</p> +<p>Richard looked gratefully and kindly at her, but refused. The +Doctor assured them again that there was no reason for anxiety; +that Richard would probably be undisturbed all night; that he +himself would come early in the morning. Then Richard came toward +the stairs, and I escaped to my own room.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII."></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<h3>PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>The fiend whose lantern lights the mead,<br> + Were better mate than I!<br> +<br> +<i>Scott</i>.<br> +<br> +Fools, when they cannot see their way,<br> +At once grow desperate,<br> +Have no resource--have nothing to propose--<br> +But fix a dull eye of dismay<br> +Upon the final close.<br> +Success to the stout heart, say I,<br> +That sees its fate, and can defy!<br> +<br> +<i>Faust</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Two weeks later, and things had not stood still; they rarely do, +when there is so much at hand, and ripe for mischief; seventeen +does not take up the practice of wisdom voluntarily. I do not think +I was very different from other girls of seventeen, and I cannot +blame myself very much that I spent all these days in a dream of +bliss and folly; how could it have been otherwise, situated exactly +as we were? This is the way our days were passed. Mr. Langenau was +better, but still not able to leave his room. He was the hero, as a +matter of course, and little besides his sufferings, his condition, +and his prospects, was talked of at the table; which had the effect +of making Kilian stay away two nights out of three, and of +alienating Richard altogether. Richard went to town on Monday +morning after the accident occurred, and it was now Friday of the +following week, and he had not come back.</p> +<p>It was a little dull for Mary Leighton and for Henrietta, +perhaps; possibly for Charlotte Benson, but she did not seem to +mind it much; and I had never found R---- so enchanting as that +fortnight. Charlotte Benson liked to be Florence Nightingale in +little, it was very plain; and naturally nothing made me so happy +as to be permitted to minister to the wants of the (it must be +confessed) frequently unreasonable sufferer. For the first few +days, while he was confined to his bed, of course Charlotte and I +were obliged to content ourselves with the sending of messages, the +arranging of bouquets, the concocting of soups and jellies, and all +the other coddling processes at our command. But when Mr. Langenau +was able to sit up, Sophie (at the instance of Charlotte Benson, +for she seemed to have renounced diplomacy herself,) arranged that +the bed should be taken away during the daytime, and brought back +again at night, and that Mr. Langenau should lie on the sofa +through the day. This made it possible for us to be in the room, +even without Sophie, though we began to think her presence +necessary. That scruple was soon done away with, for it laid too +great a tax on her, and restricted our attentions very much. The +result was, we passed nearly the whole day beside him; Mary +Leighton and Henrietta very often of the party, and Sophie +occasionally looking in upon us. Sometimes when Charlotte Benson, +as ranking officer, decreed that the patient needed rest, we took +our books and work and went to the piazza, outside the window of +his room.</p> +<p>He would have been very tired of us, if he had not been very +much in love with one of us. As it was, it must have been a kind of +fool's paradise in which he lived, five pretty women fluttering +about him, offering the prettiest homage, and one of them the woman +for whom, wisely or foolishly, rightly or wrongly, he had conceived +so violent a passion.</p> +<p>As soon as he was out of pain and began to recover the tone of +his nerves at all, I saw that he wanted me beside him more than +ever, and that Charlotte Benson, with all her skill and cleverness, +was as nothing to him in comparison. No doubt he dissembled this +with care; and was very graceful and very grateful and infinitely +interesting. His moods were very varying, however; sometimes he +seemed struggling with the most unconquerable depression, then we +were all so sorry for him; sometimes he was excited and brilliant; +then we were all thrilled with admiration. And not unfrequently he +was irritable and quite morose and sullen. And then we pitied, and +admired, and feared him <i>à la fois</i>. I am sure no man +more fitted to command the love and admiration of women ever +lived.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson with great self-devotion had insisted upon +teaching the children for two hours every day, so that Mr. Langenau +might not be annoyed at the thought that they were losing time, and +that Sophie might not be inconvenienced. It was the least that she +could do, she reasoned, after the many lessons that Mr. Langenau +had given us, with so much kindness, and without accepting a +return. Henrietta volunteered for the service, also, and from +eleven to one every day the boys were caught and caged, and made to +drink at the fountain of learning; or rather to approach that +fountain, of which forty Charlottes and Henriettas could not have +made them drink.</p> +<p>At that time Charlotte always decreed that Mr. Langenau should +lie on the sofa and go to sleep. The windows were darkened, and the +room was cleared of visitors. On this Friday morning, nearly two +weeks after the accident, as I was following Sophie from the room +(Charlotte having gone with Henrietta to capture the children), Mr. +Langenau called after me rather imperiously, "Miss +d'Estrée--Miss Pauline--"</p> +<p>It had been a stormy session, and I turned back with misgivings. +Sophie shrugged her shoulders and went away toward the +dining-room.</p> +<p>"What are you going away for, may I ask?" he said, as I appeared +before him humbly.</p> +<p>"Why, you know you ought to lie down and to rest," I tried to +say with discretion, but it was all one what I said: it would have +irritated him just the same.</p> +<p>"I am rather tired of this surveillance," he exclaimed. "It is +almost time I should be permitted to express a wish about the +disposition of myself. As I do not happen to want to go to sleep, I +beg I may be allowed the pleasure of your society for a little +while."</p> +<p>"I don't think it would give you much pleasure, and you know you +don't feel as well to-day."</p> +<p>"Again, may I be permitted to judge how I feel myself?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, of course, but--"</p> +<p>"But what, Miss d'Estrée?--No doubt you want to go +yourself--I am sorry I thought of detaining you (with a gesture of +dismissal). I beg you to excuse me, A sick man is apt to be +unreasonable."</p> +<p>"Oh, as to that, you know entirely well I do not want to go. You +are unreasonable, indeed, when you talk as you do now. I only went +away for your benefit."</p> +<p>"<i>Qui s'excuse, s'accuse</i>."</p> +<p>"But I am not excusing myself; and if you put it so I will go +away at once."</p> +<p>"<i>Si vous voulez</i>--"</p> +<p>"But I don't '<i>voulez</i>'--Oh, how disagreeable you can +be."</p> +<p>"You will stay?"</p> +<p>"Pauline!" called Sophie from across the hall.</p> +<p>"There!" I exclaimed, interpreting it as the voice of +conscience. I left my work-basket and book upon the table, and went +out of the room.</p> +<p>"You called me?" I said, following her into the parlor, where, +shutting the door, she motioned me to a seat beside her. She had a +slip of paper and an envelope in her hand, and seemed a little ill +at ease.</p> +<p>"I've just had a telegram from Richard," she said. "He's coming +home to-night by the eleven o'clock train. It's so odd altogether. +I don't know why he's coming. But you may as well read his message +yourself," she said with a forced manner, handing me the paper. It +was as follows:</p> +<p>Send carriage for me to eleven-thirty train to-night. Remember +my injunctions, our last conversation, and your promises."</p> +<p>"Well?" I said, looking up, bewildered and not violently +interested, for I was secretly listening to the quick shutting of +the library-door.</p> +<p>"Why, you see," she returned, with a forced air of confidence +that made me involuntarily shrink from her; I think she even laid +her hand upon my sleeve, or made some gesture of familiarity which +was unusual--</p> +<p>"You see, that last conversation was--about you. Richard is +annoyed at--at your intimacy with Mr. Langenau. You know just as +well as I do how he feels, for no doubt he's spoken to you +himself."</p> +<p>"He never has," I said, quite shortly.</p> +<p>"No?" and she looked rather chagrined. "Well--but at all events +you know how he feels. Girls ar'nt slow generally to find out about +those things. And he is really very unhappy about it, very. I wish, +Pauline, you'd give it up, child. It's gone quite far enough; now +don't you think so yourself? Mr. Langenau isn't the sort of man to +be serious about, you know. It's all very well, just for a summer's +amusement. But, you know, you mustn't go too far. I'm sure, dear, +you're not angry with me: now you understand just what I mean, +don't you?"</p> +<p>No: not angry, certainly not angry. She went on, still with the +impertinent touch upon my arm: "Richard made me promise that I +would look after you, and not permit things to go too far. And you +see--well--I'll tell you in confidence what I think his coming +to-night means, and his message and all. I think--that is, I am +afraid--he's found out something against Mr. Langenau since he's +been away. I know he never has felt confidence in him. But I've +always thought, perhaps that was because he was--well--a little +jealous and suspicious. You know men are so apt to be suspicious; +and I was sure, when he went away that last Monday morning, that he +would not leave a stone unturned in finding out everything about +him. It is that that's kept him, I am sure. Don't let that make you +feel hardly toward Richard," she went on, noticing perhaps my look; +"you know it's only natural, and besides, it's right. How would he +answer to your uncle?"</p> +<p>"It is I who should answer to my uncle," I returned, under my +breath.</p> +<p>"Yes, but you are in our house, in our care. You know, my dear +child, you are very young and very inexperienced; you don't know +how very careful people have to be."</p> +<p>"Why don't you talk that way to Charlotte and Henrietta and Mary +Leighton? Have I done anything so very different from them?" I +answered, with a blaze of spirit.</p> +<p>"No, dear," she said, with a little laugh, "only there are one +or two men very much in love with you, and that makes everything so +different."</p> +<p>I blushed scarlet, and was silenced instantly, as she +intended.</p> +<p>"Now, maybe I am mistaken about his having discovered +something," she went on, "but I can't make anything else out of +Richard's message. He is not one to send off such a despatch +without a reason. Evidently he is very uneasy; and I thought it was +best to be perfectly frank with you, dear, and I know you'll do me +the justice to say I have been, if Richard ever says anything to +you about it. You mustn't blame me, you know, for the way he feels. +I wish the whole thing was at an end," she said, with the first +touch of sincerity. "And now promise me one thing," with another +caressing movement of the hand, "Promise me, you won't go into the +library again till Richard comes, and we hear what he has to say. +Just for my sake, you know, my dear, for you see he would blame me +if I did not keep a strict surveillance. You won't mind doing that, +I'm sure, for me?"</p> +<p>"I shall not promise anything," I returned, getting up, "but I +am not likely to go near the library after what you've said."</p> +<p>"That's a good child," she said, evidently much relieved, and +thinking that the affair was very near its end. I opened the door, +and she added: "Now go up-stairs, and rest yourself, for you look +as if you had a headache, and don't think of anything that's +disagreeable." That was a good prescription, but I did not take +it.</p> +<p>Of course, I did not go near the library; that was understood. +After dinner, the servant brought in Mr. Langenau's tray untouched, +and Charlotte Benson started up, and ran in to see what was the +matter. Sophie went too, looking a little troubled. I think they +were both snubbed: for ten minutes after, when I met Charlotte in +the hall, she had an unusual flush upon her cheek, and Sophie I +found standing at one of the parlor-windows, biting her lip, and +tapping impatiently upon the carpet. Evidently the affair was not +as near its placid end as she had hoped. She started a little when +she saw me, and tried to look unruffled.</p> +<p>"How sultry it is this afternoon!" she said. "Are you going up +to your room to take a rest? stop in my room on your way, I want to +show you those embroideries that I was telling Charlotte Benson of +last night."</p> +<p>"I did not hear you, and I do not know anything about them," I +said, feeling not at all affectionate.</p> +<p>"No? Oh, I forgot: it was while you and Henrietta were sitting +in the library, and Charlotte and I were walking up and down the +piazza while it rained. Why, they are some heavenly sets that I got +this spring from Paris--Marshall picked them up one day at the +<i>Bon Marché</i>--and verily they are <i>bon +marché</i>. I never saw anything so cheap, and I was telling +Charlotte that some of you might just as well have part of them, +for I never could use the half. Come up and look them over."</p> +<p>Now I loved "heavenly sets" as well as most women, but dress was +not the bait for me at that moment. So I said my head ached and I +could not look at them then, if she'd excuse me; and I went +silently away to my room, not caring at all if she were pleased or +not. I disliked and distrusted her more and more every moment, and +she seemed to me so mean: for I knew all her worry came from the +apprehension of what she might have to fear from Richard, not the +thought of the suffering that he or that any one else endured.</p> +<p>It was a long afternoon, but it reached its end, after the +manner of all afternoons on record, even those of Marianna. When I +came down-stairs they were all at tea and Kilian had arrived. A +more enlivening atmosphere prevailed, and the invalid was not +discussed. A drive was being canvassed. There was an early moon, +and Kilian proposed driving Tom and Jerry before the open wagon, +which would carry four, through the valley-road, to be back by +half-past nine or ten o'clock.</p> +<p>"But what am I to do," cried Kilian, "when there are five +angels, and I have only room for three?"</p> +<p>"Why, two will have to stay at home, according to my +arithmetic," said Charlotte, good-naturedly, "and I've no doubt I +shall be remainder."</p> +<p>"If you stay, I shall stay with you," said Henrietta, dropping +the metaphor, for metaphors, even the mildest, were beyond her +reach of mind.</p> +<p>Everybody wanted to stay, and everybody tried to be quite firm; +but as no one's firmness but mine was based on inclination, the +result was that Sophie and I were "remainder," and Mary Leighton, +Charlotte, and Henrietta drove away with Kilian quite jauntily, at +half-past seven o'clock. But before she went, Charlotte, who was +really good-natured with all her sharpness and self-will, went into +the library to speak to Mr. Langenau, and to show she did not +resent the noonday slight, whatever that had been. But presently +she came back looking rather anxious, and said to Sophie, ignoring +me (whom she always did ignore if possible),</p> +<p>"Do go and see what you can do for Mr. Langenau. He is really +very far from well. His tea stands there, and he hasn't taken +anything to eat. He looks feverish and excited, and I truly think +he ought to see the Doctor. You know he promised the Doctor to stay +in his room, and keep still all the rest of the week. But I am sure +he means to come out to-morrow, and he even talks of going down to +town. It will kill him if he does; I'm sure he's doing badly, and I +wish you'd go and see to him."</p> +<p>"Does he know Richard is coming up to-night?" asked Sophie, +<i>sotto voce</i>, but with affected carelessness.</p> +<p>"I do not know; oh yes, he does, I mentioned it to him at +dinner-time, I remember now."</p> +<p>"Well, I'll see if I can do anything for him; now go, they're +waiting for you. Have a pleasant time."</p> +<p>After they were gone, Sophie went into the library, but she did +not stay very long. She came and sat beside me on the +river-balcony, and talked a little, desultorily and +absent-mindedly.</p> +<p>Presently there was a call for "mamma," a hubbub and a +hurry--soon explained. Charley, who had been running wild for the +last two weeks, without tutor or uncle to control him, had just +fallen from the mow, and hurt himself somewhat, and frightened +himself much more. The whole house was in a ferment. He was taken +to mamma's room, for he was a great baby when anything was the +matter with him, and would not let mamma move an inch away from +him. After assisting to the best of my ability in making him +comfortable, and seeing myself only in the way, I went down-stairs +again, and took my seat upon the balcony that overlooked the +river.</p> +<p>The young moon was shining faintly, and the air was soft and +balmy. The house was very still; the servants, I think, were all in +a distant part of the house, or out enjoying the moonlight and the +idleness of evening. Sophie was nailed to Charley's bed up-stairs, +trying to soothe him; Benny was sinking to sleep in his little +crib. It seemed like an enchanted palace, and when I heard a step +crossing the parlor, it made me start with a vague feeling of +alarm. The parlor-window by me, which opened to the floor, was not +closed, and in another moment some one came out and stood beside +me. It was Mr. Langenau. I started up and exclaimed, "Mr. Langenau, +how imprudent! Oh, go back at once."</p> +<p>He seemed weak, and his hand shook as he leaned against the +casement, but his eyes were glittering with a feverish excitement. +He did not answer. I went on: "The Doctor forbade your coming out +for several days yet--and the exertion and the night-air--oh, I beg +you to go back."</p> +<p>"Alone?" he said in a low voice.</p> +<p>"No, oh no, I will go with you. Anything, only do not stay here +a moment longer; come." And taking his hand (and how burning hot it +was!) and drawing it through my arm, I started toward the hall. He +had to lean on me, for the unusual exertion seemed to have +annihilated all his strength. When we reached the library, I led +him to a chair--a large and low and easy one, and he sank down in +it.</p> +<p>"You are not going away?" he asked, as he gasped for breath, +"For there is something that must be said to-night."</p> +<p>"No, I will not go," I answered, frightened to see him so, and +agitated by a thousand feelings. "I will light the lamp, and read +to you. Let me move your chair back from the window."</p> +<p>"No, you must not light the lamp; I like the moonlight better. +Bring your chair and sit here by me--here." He leaned and +half-pulled toward him the companion to the chair on which he sat, +a low, soft, easy one.</p> +<p>I sat down in it, sitting so I nearly faced him. The moon was +shining in at the one wide window: I can remember exactly the +pattern that the vine-leaves made as the moonlight fell through +them on the carpet at our feet. I had a bunch of verbena-leaves +fastened in my dress, and I never smell verbena-leaves at any time +or place without seeing before me that moon-traced pattern and that +wide-open window.</p> +<p>"Pauline," he said, in that low, thrilling voice, leaning a +little toward me, "I have a great deal to say to you to-night. I +have a great wrong to ask pardon for--a great sorrow to tell you +of. I shall never call you Pauline again as I call you to-night. I +shall never look into your eyes again, I shall never touch your +hand. For we must part, Pauline; and this hour, which heaven has +given me, is the last that we shall spend together on the +earth."</p> +<p>I truly thought that his fever had produced delirium, and, +trying to conceal my alarm, I said, with an attempt to quiet him, +"Oh, do not say such things; we shall see each other a great, great +many times, I hope, and have many more hours together."</p> +<p>"No, Pauline, you do not know so well as I of what I speak. This +is no delirium; would to heaven, it were, and I might wake up from +it. No, the parting must be said to-night, and I must be the one to +speak it. We may spend days, perhaps, under the same roof--we may +even sit at the same table once again; but, I repeat, from this day +I may never look into your eyes again, I may never touch your hand. +Pauline, can you forgive me? I know that you can love. Merciful +Heaven! who so well as I, who have held your stainless heart in my +stained hand these many dreamy weeks; and Justice has not struck me +dead. Yes, Pauline, I know you've loved me; but remember this one +thing, in all your bitter thoughts of me hereafter: remember this, +you have not loved me as I have loved you. You have not given up +earth and heaven both for me as I have done for you. For you? No, +not for you, but for the shadow of you, for the thought of you, for +these short weeks of you. And then, an eternity of absence, and of +remorse, and of oblivion--ah, if it might be oblivion for you! If I +could blot out of your life this short, blighting summer; if I +could put you back to where you were that fresh, sweet morning that +I walked with you beside the river! I loved you from that day, +Pauline, and I drugged my conscience, and refused to heed that I +was doing you a wrong in teaching you to love me. Pauline, I have +to tell you a sad story: you will have to go back with me very far; +you will have to hear of sins of which you never dreamed in your +dear innocence. I would spare you if I could, but you must know, +for you must forgive me. And when you have heard, you may cease to +love, but I think you will forgive. Listen."</p> +<p>Why should I repeat that terrible disclosure? why harrow my soul +with going back over that dark path? Let me try to forget that such +sins, such wrongs, such revenges, ever stained a human life. I was +so young, so innocent, so ignorant. It was a strange misfortune +that I should have had to know that which aged and changed me so. +But he was right in saying that I had to know it. My life was bound +involuntarily to his by my love, and what concerned him was my +fate. Alas! He was in no other way bound to me than by my love: nor +ever could be.</p> +<p>I don't know whether I was prepared for it or not: I knew that +something terrible and final was to come, and I felt the awe that +attends the thoughts that words are final and time limited. But +when I heard the fatal truth--that another woman lived to whom he +was irrevocably bound--I heard it as in a dream, and did not move +or speak. I think I felt for a moment as if I were dead, as if I +had passed out of the ranks of the living into the abodes of the +silent, and benumbed, and pulseless. There was such a horrible awe, +and chill, and check through all my young and rapid blood. It was +like death by freezing. It is not so pleasant as they say, believe +me. But no pain: that came afterward, when I came to life, when I +felt the touch of his hand on mine, and ceased to hear his cruel +words.</p> +<p>I had shrunk back from him in my chair, and sat, I suppose, like +a person in a trance, with my hands in my lap, and my eyes fixed on +him with bewilderment. But when he ceased to speak--and, leaning +forward on one knee, clasped my hands in his, and drew me toward +him, then indeed I knew I was not dead. Oh, the agony of those few +moments--I tried to rise, to go away from him. But he held me with +such strength--all his weakness was gone now. He folded his arms +around my waist and held me as in a vise. Then suddenly leaning his +head down upon my arms, he kissed my hands, my arms, my dress, with +a moan of bitter anguish.</p> +<p>"Not mine," he murmured. "Never mine but in my dreams. O +wretched dreams, that drive me mad. Pauline, they will tell us that +we must not dream--we must not weep, we must be stocks and stones. +We must wear this weight of living death till that good Lord that +makes such laws shall send us death in mercy. Twenty, thirty, +forty, fifty years of suffering: that might almost satisfy Him, one +would think. Pauline! you and I are to say good-bye to-night. +Good-bye! People talk of it as a cruel word. Think of it: if it +were but for a year, a year with hope at the end of it to keep our +hearts alive, it would be terrible, and we should need be brave. +The tears that lovers shed over a year apart; the days that have +got to come and go, how weary. The nights--the nights that sleep +flies off from, and that memory reigns over. Count them--over three +hundred come in every year. One, you think while it is passing, is +enough to kill you: one such night of restless torture, and how +many shall we multiply our three hundred by? We are young, Pauline. +You are a child, a very child. I am in the very flush and strength +of manhood. There is half a century of suffering in me yet: this +frame, this brain, will stand the wear of the hard years to come +but too, too well. There is no hope of death. There is no hope in +life. That star has set. Good God! And that makes hell--why should +I wait for it--it cannot be worse there than here. Don't listen to +me--it will not be as hard for you--you are so young--you have no +sins to torture you--only a little love to conquer and forget. You +will marry a man who lives for you, and who is patient and will +wait till this is over. Ah, no: by Heaven! I can't quite stand it +yet. Pauline, you never loved him, did you--never blushed for +him--never listened for his coming with your lips apart and your +heart fluttering, as I have seen you listen when you thought that I +was coming? No, I know you never loved him: I know you have loved +me alone--me--who ought to have forbidden you. +Forgive--forgive--forgive me."</p> +<p>A passion of tears had come to my relief, and I shook from head +to foot with sobs. I cannot feel ashamed when I remember that he +held me for one moment in his arms. He had been to me till that +shock, strength, truth, justice: <i>the man I loved</i>. How could +I in one instant know him by his sin alone, and undo all my trust? +I knew only this, that it was for the last time, and that my heart +was broken.</p> +<p>I forgave him--that was an idle form; in my great love I never +felt that there was anything to be forgiven, except the wrong that +fate had done me, in making my love so hopeless. He told me to +forget him; that seemed to me as idle; but all his words were +precious, and all my soul was in his hand. When, at that moment, +the sound of wheels upon the gravel came, and the sound of laughter +and of voices, I sprang up; he caught me in his arms and held me +closely. Another moment, the parting was over, and I was kneeling +by my bed up-stairs, weeping, sobbing, hopeless.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII."></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Into my chamber brightly<br> + Came the early sun's good-morrow;<br> +On my restless bed, unsightly,<br> + I sat up in my sorrow.<br> +<br> +<i>Faust.</i></blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>It is an amazing thing, the strength and power of pride. Pride, +and the law of self-respect and self-preservation in our being, is +the force that holds us in our course. When we reflect upon it, how +few of all the myriads fly out from it and are lost. That I ate my +meals; that I dressed myself with care; that I took walks and +drives: that I did not avoid my companions, and listened patiently +to what they chose to say: these were the evidences of that +centripetal law within that was keeping me from destruction. It +would be difficult to imagine a person more unhappy. Undisciplined +and unfortified by the knowledge that disappointment is an integral +part of all lives, there had suddenly come upon me a disappointment +the most total. It covered everything; there was not a flicker of +hope or palliation. And I had no idea where to go to make myself +another hope, or in what course lay palliation. As we have prepared +ourselves or have been prepared, so is the issue of our +temptations. My great temptation came upon me, foolish, ignorant, +unprepared: the wonder would have been if I had resisted it to my +own credit.</p> +<p>The days went on as usual at R----, and I must hold my place +among the careless daughters and not let them see my trouble. +Careless daughters, indeed they were, and I shuddered at the +thought of their cold eyes: no doubt their eyes, bright as well as +cold, saw that something was amiss with me; with all my bravery, I +could not keep the signs of wretchedness out of my pale face. But +they never knew the story, and they could only guess at what made +me wretched. It is amazing (again) what power there is in silence, +and how much you can keep in your hands if you do not open them. +People may surmise--may invent, but they cannot know your secret +unless you tell it to them, and their imaginings take so many +forms, the multitude of things that they create blot out all +definite design. Thus every one at R---- had a different theory +about my loss of spirits and the relapse of Mr. Langenau, but no +one ever knew what passed that night.</p> +<p>Richard came. He was closeted with Sophie until after midnight, +but I do not think he told her anything that she desired to know. I +think he only tried to find out from her what had passed (and she +did not know that I had been in the library since she spoke to me). +If Mr. Langenau had been well, I have no doubt that it was his +design to have dismissed him on the following day, no matter at +what hazard. How much he knew I cannot tell, but enough to have +warranted him in doing that, perhaps. He probably would have put it +in Mr. Langenau's power to have gone without any coloring put upon +his going that would have affected his standing in the household. +This was his design, no doubt; otherwise he would have told his +sister all. His delicate consideration for me made him guard as +sacred the fact that I had wasted my hope and love so cruelly.</p> +<p>He was not going away again, I soon found; <i>qui va à la +chasse perd sa place</i>. He had lost his place, but he would stay +and guard me all the same; and the chase for gold seemed given up +for good and all.</p> +<p>Kilian was in constant surprise, and made out many catechisms, +but he got little satisfaction.</p> +<p>Richard was going to have a few weeks' "rest," unless something +should occur to call him back to town.</p> +<p>He sought no interview with me, was kind and silent, but his eye +was never off me. I think he watched his opportunity for saying +what he had to say to Mr. Langenau, but such an opportunity seemed +destined not to come.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was ill the day after Richard came home--quite ill +enough to cause alarm. He had a high fever, and the Doctor even +seemed uneasy, and prescribed the profoundest quiet. After a day or +two, however, he improved, and all danger seemed averted.</p> +<p>As soon as he was strong enough, he was to be removed to his own +room above, for the sake of quiet, and to release the household +from its enforced tranquillity.</p> +<p>All these particulars I heard at table, or from morning groups +on the piazza: with stony cheeks, and eyes that looked +unflinchingly into all curious faces: so works the law of +self-defence.</p> +<p>All but Richard, I am sure, were staggered, but he read with his +heart.</p> +<p>I never blushed now, I never faltered, I never said a word I did +not mean to say. It was a struggle for life: though I did not value +the life, and should have found it hard to say why I did not give +up and let them see that I was killed.</p> +<p>But I kept wondering how I should sustain myself if I should be +called upon to meet him once again.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV."></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<h3>GUARDED.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely,<br> +I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only<br> +Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received.<br> +<br> +<i>Felix Arvers</i>.<br> +<br> +Duty to God is duty to her; I think<br> +God, who created her, will save her too<br> +Some new way, by one miracle the more<br> +Without me. Then, prayer may avail, perhaps.<br> +<br> +<i>R. Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>"Mr. Langenau is coming down to-day," said Charlotte Benson in a +stage-whisper, as we took our places at the table, a week after +this. "I met him in the hall about an hour ago, looking like a +ghost, and he told me he was coming down to dinner."</p> +<p>"<i>Vraiment</i>," said Sophie, looking a little disconcerted. +"Well, he shall have Charley's place. Charley isn't coming."</p> +<p>"I hope he's in a better temper than that last day we saw him," +said Henrietta.</p> +<p>"Poor fellow!" said Charlotte, "that was the day before the +fever began. It was coming on: that was the reason of it all, no +doubt. He looks ghastly enough now. You'll forgive all, the moment +that you see him."</p> +<p>Charlotte had forgiven him herself, though she had never resumed +the role of Florence Nightingale. Since he had given up the library +and removed to his own room, he had been quite lost to all, and +nobody seemed to have gone near him, not even Sophie, who would +have been glad to forget that he existed, without doubt.</p> +<p>Richard's eyes were on me as Charlotte said "Hush!" and a step +crossed the hall in the pause that ensued. Kilian, sitting next me, +began to talk to me at that moment, the moment that Mr. Langenau +entered the room. And I think I answered quite coherently: though +two sets of words were going through my brain, the answer to his +commonplace question, and the words that Mr. Langenau had said that +night, "Pauline, I shall never look into your eyes again, I shall +never touch your hand."</p> +<p>It seemed to me an even chance which sentence saw the day; but +as the walls did not fall down about me and no face looked +amazement, I found I must have answered Kilian's question with +propriety.</p> +<p>There were many voices speaking at once; but there was such a +ringing in my ears, I could not distinguish who spoke, or what was +said: for a moment I was lost, if any one had taken advantage of +it. But gradually I regained my senses: one after another they each +took up their guard again: and I looked up. And met his eyes? No; +but let mine rest upon his face. And then I found I had not +measured my temptation, and that there was something to do besides +defending myself from others' eyes. For there was to defend myself +from my own heart. The passion of pity and tenderness that rushed +over me as my eyes fell on his haggard face, so strong and yet so +wan, swept away for the moment the defences against the public +gaze. I could have fallen down at his feet before them all and told +him that I loved him.</p> +<p>A few moments more of the sound of commonplace words, and the +repulsion of every-day faces and expressions, swept me back into +the circle of conventionalities, and brought me under the force of +that current that keeps us from high tragedy.</p> +<p>All during the meal Mr. Langenau was grave and silent, speaking +little and then with effort. He had overrated his strength, +perhaps, for he went away before the end of the dinner, asking to +be excused, in a tone almost inaudible. After he had gone, a good +many commentaries were offered. Kilian seemed to express the sense +of the assembly when he said: "The man looks shockingly, and he's +not out of the woods yet."</p> +<p>Sophie looked troubled: she had some compunctions for the +neglect of the last few days, perhaps.</p> +<p>"What does the Doctor say?" pursued her brother.</p> +<p>"Nothing, I suppose--for he hasn't been here for a week, +almost."</p> +<p>"Well, then, you'd better send for him, if you don't want the +fellow to die on your hands. He's not fit to be out of bed, and +you'll have trouble if you don't look out."</p> +<p>"As if I hadn't had trouble," returned his sister, almost +peevishly.</p> +<p>"Well, I beg your pardon, Sophie. But I fancied you and Miss +Charlotte were in charge; and I thought about ten days ago, your +patient was in a fair way to be killed with kindness, and it's a +little of a surprise to me to find he's being let alone so very +systematically."</p> +<p>"Why, to tell you the truth," cried Charlotte Benson, "we were +turned out of office without much ceremony, one fine day after +dinner. I am quite willing to be forgiving; but I don't think you +can ask me to put myself in the way of being snubbed again to that +extent."</p> +<p>"The ungrateful varlet! what did he complain of? Hadn't he been +coddled enough to please him? Did he want four or five more women +dancing attendance on him?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it was not want of attention he complained of. In fact," +said Charlotte, coloring, "It was that he didn't like quite so +much, and wanted to be allowed more liberty."</p> +<p>Kilian indulged in a good laugh, which wasn't quite fair, +considering Charlotte's candor.</p> +<p>"But the truth is," said Charlotte, uneasily, "that he was too +ill, that day, to be responsible for what he said. He was just +coming down with the fever, and, you know, people are always most +unreasonable then."</p> +<p>"I'm very glad I never gave him a chance to dispense with me," +said Mary Leighton, with a view to making herself amiable in +Kilian's eyes.</p> +<p>"I think he dispensed with you early in the season," said +Charlotte, sharply. "Oh, hast thou forgotten that walk that he +took, upon your invitation? Ah, Miss Leighton, his look was quite +dramatic. I know you never have forgiven him."</p> +<p>"I haven't the least idea what you are talking of," returned +Mary Leighton, with bewildered and child-like simplicity.</p> +<p>"Ah, then it was not as unique an occurrence as I hoped," said +Charlotte, viciously. "I imagined it would make more of an +impression."</p> +<p>"Charlotte," interrupted Sophie, shocked at this open +impoliteness, "I hope you are forgiving enough to break it to him +that he's got to see the Doctor; for if he comes unexpectedly and +goes up to his room, he will be dramatic, and that is so +unpleasant, as we know to our sorrow."</p> +<p>"Indeed, I shan't tell him," cried Charlotte, "you can take your +life in your hand, and try it if you please; but I cannot consent +to risk myself. There's Mary Leighton, she bears no malice. Perhaps +she'll go with you as support."</p> +<p>"Ha, ha!" cried Kilian. "Richard, you and I may be called on to +bring up the rear. There's the General's old sword in the hall, and +I'll take the Joe Manton from the shelf in the library."</p> +<p>"Richard looks as if he disapproved of us all very much," said +Sophie, and in truth Richard did look just so. He did not even +answer these suggestions, but began after a moment to talk to +Henrietta on indifferent matters.</p> +<p>It was on this afternoon that a new policy was inaugurated at +R----. We were taught to feel that we had been quite aggrieved by +the dullness of the past two weeks or more, and that we must be +compensated by some refreshing novelties.</p> +<p>Richard was at the head of the movement--Richard with his sober +cares and weary look. But the incongruity struck no one; they were +too glad to be amused. Even Sophie brightened up. Charlotte was +ready to throw her energies into any active scheme, hospital or +picnic, charity-school or kettle-drum.</p> +<p>"To-morrow will be just the sort of day for it," said Richard, +"cool and fine. And half the pleasure of a picnic is not having +time to get tired of it beforehand."</p> +<p>"That's very true," said Charlotte; "but I don't see how we're +going to get everybody notified and everything in order for nine +o'clock to-morrow morning."</p> +<p>"Nothing easier," said Kilian; "we'll go, directly after tea, to +the De Witts and Prentices, and send Thomas with a note to the +Lowders. Sophie has done her part in shorter time than that, very +often; and I don't believe we should be starved, if she only gave +half an hour's notice to the cook."</p> +<p>What is heavier than pleasure-seeking in which one has no +pleasure? I shall never forget the misery of those plans and that +bustle. I dared not absent myself, and I could scarcely carry out +my part for very heavy-heartedness. It seemed to me that I could +not bear it, if the hour came, and I should have to drive away with +all that merry party, and leave poor Mr. Langenau for a long, long +day alone.</p> +<p>I felt sure something would occur to release me: it could not be +that I should have to go. With the exaggeration of youth, it seemed +to me an impossibility that I could endure anything so grievous. +How I hated all the careless, thoughtless, happy household! Only +Richard, enemy as he was to my happiness, seemed endurable to me. +For Richard was not merry-making in his heart, and I was sure he +was sorry for me all the time he was trying to oppose me.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau was again in the Doctor's care, who came that +evening, and who said to Richard, in my hearing, he must be kept +quiet; he didn't altogether like his symptoms.</p> +<p>Richard had his hands full, with great matters and small. Sophie +had washed hers of the invalid; there had been some sharpish words +between the sister and brother on the matter, I imagine, and the +result was, Richard was the only one who did or would do anything +for his comfort and safety.</p> +<p>That day, after appearing at dinner, he came no more. I watched +with feverish anxiety every step, every sound; but he came not. I +knew that the Doctor's admonitions would not have much weight, nor +yet Richard's opinion. I had the feeling that if he would only +speak to me, only look at me once, it would ease that horrible +oppression and pain which I was suffering. The agony I was enduring +was so intolerable, and its real relief so impossible, like a child +I caught at some fancied palliation, and craved only that. What +would one look, one word be--out of a lifetime of silence and +separation.</p> +<p>No matter: it was what I raged and died for, just one look, just +one word more. He had said he would never look into my eyes again: +that haunted me and made me superstitious. I would <i>make</i> him +look at me. I would seize his hand and kneel before him, and tell +him I should die if he did not speak to me once more. Once more! +Just once, out of years, out of forever. I had thrown duty, +conscience, thought to the winds. I had but one fear--that we +should be finally separated without that word spoken, that look +exchanged. I said to myself again and again, I shall die, if I +cannot speak to him again. Beyond that I did not look. What better +I should be after that speaking I did not care. I only longed and +looked for that as a relief from the insufferable agony of my fate. +One cannot take in infinite wretchedness: it is our nature to make +dates and periods to our sorrows in our imagination.</p> +<p>And so that horrid afternoon and evening passed, amid the racket +and babel of visitors and visiting. I followed almost blindly, and +did as the others did. The next morning dawned bright and cold. +What a day for summer! The sun was brilliant, but the wind came +from over icebergs; it seemed like "winter painted green."</p> +<p>We were to start at nine o'clock. I was ready early, waiting on +the piazza for the aid to fate that was to keep me from the +punishment of going. No human being had spoken his name that +morning. How should I know whether he were still so ill or no.</p> +<p>The hour for starting had arrived. Richard, who never kept long +out of sight of me, was busy loading the wagon that was to +accompany us, with baskets of things to eat, and with wines and +fruits. Kilian was engrossed in arranging the seats and cushions in +the two carriages which had just driven to the door.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton was fluttering about the flower-bed at the left of +the piazza, making herself lovely with geranium and roses. Sophie, +in a beautiful costume, was pacifying Charley, who had had a +difference with his uncle Kilian. Charlotte and Henrietta were busy +in their small way over a little basket of preserves; and two or +three of the neighboring gentlemen, who were to drive with us, were +approaching the house by a side-entrance.</p> +<p>In a moment or two we should be ready to be off. What should I +do? I was frantic with the thought that he might be worse, he might +go away. I was to be absent such a length of time. I must--I would +see him before we went. What better moment than the present, when +everybody was engaged in this fretting, foolish picnic. I would run +up-stairs--call to him outside his door--make him speak to me.</p> +<p>With a guilty look around, I started up, stole through the group +on the piazza, and ran to the stairs. But alas, Richard had not +failed to mark my movements, and before my foot had touched the +stair his voice recalled me. I started with a guilty look, and +trembled, but dared not meet his eye.</p> +<p>"Pauline, are you going away? We are just ready start."</p> +<p>If I had had any presence of mind I should have made an excuse, +and gone to my own room for a moment, and taken my chance of +getting to the floor above; but I suppose he would have forestalled +me. I could not command a single word, but turned back and followed +him. As we got into the carriage, the voices and the laughing +really seemed to madden me. Driving away from the house, I never +shall forget the sensation of growing heaviness at my heart; it +seemed to be turning into lead. I glanced back at the closed +windows of his room and wondered if he saw us, and if he thought +that I was happy.</p> +<p>The length of that day! The glare of that sun! The chill of that +unnatural wind! Every moment seemed to me an hour. I can remember +with such distinctness the whole day, each thing as it happened; +conversations which seemed so senseless, preparations which seemed +so endless. The taste of the things I tried to eat: the smell of +the grass on which we sat, and the pine-trees above our heads: the +sound of fire blazing under the teakettle, and the pained sensation +of my eyes when the smoke blew across into our faces: the hateful +vibration of Mary Leighton's laugh: all these things are +unnaturally vivid to me at this day.</p> +<p>I don't know what the condition of my brain must have been, to +have received such an exaggerated impression of unimportant +things.</p> +<p>"What can I do for you, Miss Pauline?" said Kilian, throwing +himself down on the grass at my feet. I could not sit down for very +impatience, but was walking restlessly about, and was now standing +for a moment by a great tree under which the table had been spread. +It was four o'clock, and there was only vague talk of going home; +the horses had not yet been brought up, the baskets were not a +quarter packed. Every one was indolent, and a good deal tired; the +gentlemen were smoking, and no one seemed in a hurry.</p> +<p>When Kilian said, "What can I do for you. Miss Pauline?" I could +not help saying, "Take me home."</p> +<p>"Home!" cried Kilian. "Here is somebody talking about going +home. Why, Miss Pauline, I am just beginning to enjoy myself! only +look, it is but four o'clock."</p> +<p>"Oh, let us stay and go home by moonlight," cried Mary Leighton, +in a little rapture.</p> +<p>"Would it not be heavenly!" said Henrietta.</p> +<p>"How about tea?" said Charlotte. "We shall be hungry before +moonlight, and there isn't anything left to eat."</p> +<p>"How material!" cried Kilian, who had eaten an enormous +dinner.</p> +<p>"We shall all get cold," said Sophie, who loved to be +comfortable, "and the children are beginning to be very cross."</p> +<p>"Small blame to them," muttered a dissatisfied man in my ear, +who had singled me out as a companion in discontent, and had +pursued me with his contempt for pastoral entertainments, and for +this entertainment in especial.</p> +<p>"Well, let the people that want to stay, stay; but let us go +home," I said, hastily.</p> +<p>"That is so like you, Pauline," exclaimed Mary Leighton, in a +voice that stung me like nettles.</p> +<p>"It is very like common-sense," I said, "if that's like me."</p> +<p>"Well, it isn't particularly."</p> +<p>"Let dogs delight," said Kilian, "I have a compromise to offer. +If we go home by the bridge we pass the little Brink hotel, where +they give capital teas. We can stop there, rest, get tea, have a +dance in the 'ball-room,' sixteen by twenty, and go home by +moonlight, filling the souls of Miss Leighton and Henrietta with +bliss."</p> +<p>A chorus of ecstasy followed this; Sophie herself was satisfied +with the plan, and exulted in the prospect of washing her face, and +lying down on a bed for half an hour, though only at a little +country inn. Even this low form of civilized life was tempting, +after seven hours spent in communion with nature on hard rocks.</p> +<p>Great alacrity was shown in getting ready and in getting off. I +could not speak to any one, not even the dissatisfied man, but +walked away by myself and tried to let no one see what I was +feeling. After all was ready, I got into the carriage beside one of +the Miss Lowders, and the dissatisfied man sat opposite. He wore +canvas shoes and a corduroy suit, and sleeve-buttons and studs that +were all bugs and bees. I think I could make a drawing of the +sleeve-button on the arm with which he held the umbrella over us; +there were five different forms of insect-life represented on it, +but I remember them all.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you haven't enjoyed yourself very much," said Miss +Lowder, looking at me rather critically.</p> +<p>"I? why--no, perhaps not; I don't generally enjoy myself very +much."</p> +<p>Somebody out on the front seat laughed very shrilly at this: of +course it was Mary Leighton, who was sitting beside Kilian, who +drove. I felt I would have liked to push her over among the horses, +and drive on.</p> +<p>"Isn't her voice like a steel file?" I said with great +simplicity to my companions. The dissatisfied man, writhing +uncomfortably on his seat, four inches too narrow for any one but a +child of six, assented gloomily. Miss Lowder, who was twenty-eight +years old and very well bred, looked disapproving, and changed the +subject. Not much more was said after this. Miss Lowder had a +neuralgic headache, developed by the cold wind and an undigested +dinner eaten irregularly. She was too polite to mention her +sufferings, but leaned back in the carriage and was silent.</p> +<p>My vis-à-vis was at last relieved by the declining sun +from his task, and so the umbrella-arm and its sleeve-button were +removed from my range of vision.</p> +<p>We counted the mile-posts, and we looked sometimes at our +watches, and so the time wore away.</p> +<p>Kilian and Mary Leighton were chattering incessantly, and did +not pay much attention to us. Kilian drove pretty fast almost all +the way, but sometimes forgot himself when Mary was too seductive, +and let the horses creep along like snails.</p> +<p>"There's our little tavern," cried Kilian at last, starting up +the horses.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry," murmured Mary Leighton, "we have had such a +lovely drive."</p> +<p>My vis-à-vis groaned and looked at me as this observation +reached us. I laughed a little hysterically: I was so glad to be at +the half-way house--and Mary Leighton's words were so absurd. When +we got out of the carriage, the dissatisfied man stretched his long +English limbs out, and lighting his cigar, began silently to pace +the bricks in front of the house.</p> +<p>Kilian took us into the little parlor (we were the first to +arrive), and committed us to the care of a thin, tired-looking +woman, and then went to see to the comfort of his horses.</p> +<p>The tired woman, who looked as if she never had sat down since +she grew up, took us to some rooms, where we were to rest till tea +was ready. The rooms had been shut up all day, and the sun had been +beating on them: they smelled of paint and dust and ill-brushed +carpets. The water in the pitchers was warm and not very clear: the +towels were very small and thin, the beds were hard, and the +pillows very small, like the towels: they felt soft and warm and +limp, like sick kittens. We threw open the windows and aired the +rooms, and washed our faces and hands: and Miss Lowder lay down on +the bed and put her head on a pile of four of the little pillows +collected from the different rooms. Mary Leighton spent the time in +re-arranging her hair, and I walked up and down the hall, too +impatient to rest myself in any way.</p> +<p>By-and-by the others came, and then there was a hubbub and a +clatter, and poor Miss Lowder's head was overlooked in the +mêlée; for these were all the rooms the house afforded +for the entertainment of wayfarers, and as there were nine ladies +in our party, it is not difficult to imagine the confusion that +ensued.</p> +<p>Benny and Charley also came to have their hair arranged, and it +devolved on Charlotte and me to do it, as their mamma had thrown +herself exhausted on one of the beds, and with the bolsters doubled +up under her head, was trying to get some rest.</p> +<p>It was fully half-past seven before the tea-bell rang. I seized +Benny's hand, and we were the first on the ground. I don't know how +I thought this would be useful in hurrying matters, for Benny's tea +and mine were very soon taken, and were very insignificant +fractions of the general business.</p> +<p>There were kerosene lamps on the table, and everything was +served in the plainest manner, but the cooking was really good, and +it was evident that the tired woman had been on her feet all her +life to some purpose. Almost every one was hungry, and the contrast +to the cold meats, and the hard rocks, and the disjointed apparatus +of the noonday meal, was very favorable.</p> +<p>Richard had put me between himself and Benny, and he watched my +undiminished supper with disapprobation: but I do not believe he +ate much more himself. He put everything that he thought I might +like, before me, silently: and I think the tired woman (who was +waitress as well as cook), must have groaned over the frequent +changing of my plate.</p> +<p>"Do not take any more of that," he said, as I put out my hand +for another cup of coffee.</p> +<p>"Well, what shall I take?" I exclaimed peevishly. But indeed I +did not mean to be peevish, nor did I know quite what I said, I was +so miserable. Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some +question of Sophie; who was quite revived.</p> +<p>Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, +and a young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders.</p> +<p>It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies +from the house. After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the +smoking there was to be dancing. The preparations for the dancing +created a good deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time. +Kilian and young Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play +for them. When he came, he had to be instructed as to the style of +music to be furnished, and the rasping and scraping of that +miserable instrument put me beside myself with nervousness. Then +the "ball-room" had to be aired and lighted; then the negro's music +was found to be incompatible with modern movements; even a waltz +was proved impossible, and nobody would consent to remember a +quadrille but Richard. So they had to fall back upon Virginia +reels, and everybody was made to dance.</p> +<p>The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given. He +turned to me languidly, and offered me his hand.</p> +<p>"No," I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, +"You will excuse me, won't you?"</p> +<p>He said, with grave philosophy, "I really think it will seem +shorter than if we were looking on."</p> +<p>I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him. And +what a dance it was! The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of +the room, the asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the +little platform by the door: the amused faces looking in at the +open windows: the romping, well-dressed, pretty women: the handsome +men who were trying to act like clowns: the noise of laughing and +the calling out of the figures: all this, I am sure, I never shall +forget. And, strange to say, I somewhat enjoyed it after all. The +coffee had stimulated me: the music was merry: I was reckless, and +my companions were full of glee. Even the <i>ennuyé</i> +skipped up and down the room like a school-boy: I never shall +forget Richard's happy and relieved expression, when I laughed +aloud at somebody's amusing blunder.</p> +<p>Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were +getting ready to go home. It was a good deal after ten o'clock, and +the night was cold. There were not quite shawls enough, no +preparations having been made for staying out after dark. Richard +went up to Sophie (I was standing out by the steps to be ready the +moment the carriages should come), and I heard him negotiating with +her for a shawl for me. She was quite impatient and peremptory, +though <i>sotto voce</i>. The children needed both her extra ones, +and there was an end of it.</p> +<p>I did not care at all, and feeling warm with dancing, did not +dread what I had not yet felt. I pulled my light cloak around me, +and only longed for the carriage to arrive. But after we had +started and were about forty rods from the door, quite out of the +light of the little tavern, just within a grove of locust-trees +(the moon was under clouds), Richard's voice called out to Kilian +to stop, and coming up to the side of the carriage, said, "Put this +around you, Pauline, you haven't got enough." He put something +around my shoulders which felt very warm and comfortable: I believe +I said, Thank you, though I am not at all sure, and Kilian drove on +rapidly.</p> +<p>By-and-by, when I began to feel a little chilly, I drew it +together round my throat: the air was like November, and, August +though it was, there was a white frost that night. I was frightened +when I found what I had about my shoulders. It was Richard's coat. +I called to Kilian to stop a moment, I wanted to speak to Richard. +But when we stopped, the carriage in which he was to drive was just +behind us--and some one in it said, Richard had walked. He had not +come back after he ran out to speak to us--must have struck across +the fields and gone ahead. And Richard walked home, five miles, +that night! the only way to save himself from the deadly chill of +the keen air, without his coat.</p> +<p>When we drove into the gate, at home, I stooped eagerly forward +to get a sight of the house through the trees. There was a light +burning in the room over mine: that was all I wanted to know, and +with a sigh of relief I sank back.</p> +<p>When we went into the hall, I remembered to hang Richard's coat +upon a rack there, and then ran to my room. I could not get any +news of Mr. Langenau, and could not hear how the day had gone with +him: could only take the hope that the sight of the little lamp +conveyed.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV."></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +<h3>I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Go on, go on:<br> +Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved<br> +All tongues to talk their bitterest.<br> +<br> +<i>Winter's Tale</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Of course, the night was entirely sleepless after such, a day. I +was over-tired, and the coffee would have been fatal to rest in any +case. I tossed about restlessly till three o'clock, and then fell +into a heavy sleep.</p> +<p>The sun was shining into the room, and I heard the voices of +people on the lawn when I awoke. When I went down, after a hurried +and nervous half-hour of dressing, I found the morning, apparently, +half gone, and the breakfast-table cleared.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton, with a croquet mallet in her hand, was following +Kilian through the hall to get a drink of water. She made a great +outcry at me and my appearance.</p> +<p>"What a headache you must have," she cried. "But ah! think what +you've missed, dear! The tutor has been down at breakfast, or +rather at the breakfast-table, for he didn't eat a thing. He is a, +little paler than he was at dinner day before yesterday--and he's +gone up-stairs; and we've voted that we hope he'll stay there, for +he depresses us just to look at him."</p> +<p>And then, with an unmeaning laugh, she tripped on after Kilian +to get that drink of water, which was nothing but a ticket for a +moment's <i>tête-à-tête</i> away from the +croquet party. Richard had seen me by this time, and came in and +asked how I felt, and rang the bell in the dining-room, and ordered +my breakfast brought. He did not exactly stay and watch it, but he +came in and out of the dining-room enough times to see that I had +everything that was dainty and nice (and to see, alas! that I could +not eat it); for that piece of news from Mary Leighton had levelled +me with the ground again.</p> +<p>That I had missed seeing him was too cruel, and that he looked +so ill; how could I bear it?</p> +<p>After my breakfast was taken away, I went into the hall, and sat +down on the sofa between the parlor doors. Pretty soon the people +came in from the croquet ground, talking fiercely about a game in +which Kilian and Mary had been cheating. Charlotte Benson was quite +angry, and Charley, who had played with her, was enraged. I thought +they were such, fools to care, and Richard looked as if he thought +they were all silly children. The day was warm and close, such a +contrast to the day before. The sudden cold had broken down into a +sultry August atmosphere. The sun, which had been bright an hour +ago, was becoming obscured, and the sky was grayish. Every one felt +languid. We were all sitting about the hall, idly, when a servant +brought a note. It was an invitation; that roused them all--and for +to-day. There was no time to lose.</p> +<p>The Lowders had sent to ask us all to a croquet party there at +four o'clock.</p> +<p>"What an hour!" cried Sophie, who was tired; "I should think +they might have let us get rested from the picnic."</p> +<p>But Charlotte and Henrietta were so much charmed at the prospect +of seeing so soon the Frenchman and the young devoted Lowder, that +they listened to no criticism on the hour or day.</p> +<p>"How nice!" they said, "we shall get there a little before +five--play for a couple of hours--then have tea on the lawn, +perhaps--a little dance, and home by moonlight." It was a ravishing +prospect for their unemployed imaginations, and they left no time +in rendering their answer.</p> +<p>For myself, I had taken a firm resolve. I would never repeat the +misery of yesterday; nothing should persuade me to go with them, +but I would manage it so that I should be free from every one, even +Richard.</p> +<p>Croquet parties are great occasions for pretty costumes; all +this was talked over. What should I wear? Oh, my gray grenadine, +with the violet trimmings, and a gray hat with violet velvet and +feather.</p> +<p>"You have everything so perfect for that suit," said Mary +Leighton, in a tone of envy. "Cravat and parasol and gloves of just +the shade of violet."</p> +<p>"And gray boots," I said. "It <i>is</i> a pretty suit." No one +but Sophie had such expensive clothes as I, but I cannot say at +that moment they made me very happy. I was only thinking how +improbable that the gray suit would come out of the box that day, +unless I should be obliged to dress to mislead the others till the +last.</p> +<p>The carriages (for we filled two), were to be at the door at +four o'clock punctually. The Lowders were five miles away: the +whole thing was so talked about and planned about, that when dinner +was over, I felt we had had a croquet party, and quite a long one +at that.</p> +<p>Mr. Langenau did not come to dinner; Sophie sent a servant to +his room after we were at table, to ask him if he would come down, +or have his dinner sent to him; but the servant came back, saying +he did not want any dinner, with his compliments to Mrs. +Hollenbeck.</p> +<p>"<i>À la bonne heure</i>" cried Kilian. "A skeleton +always interferes with my appetite at a feast."</p> +<p>"It is the only thing, then, that does, isn't it?" asked +Charlotte, who seemed to have a pick at him always.</p> +<p>"No, not the only thing. There is one other--just one +other."</p> +<p>"And, for the sake of science, what is that?"</p> +<p>"A woman with a sharp tongue, Miss Charlotte.--Sophie, I don't +think much of these last soups. Your famous cook's degenerating, +take my word."</p> +<p>And so on, while Charlotte colored, and was silent through the +meal. She knew her tongue was sharp; she knew that she was +self-willed and was not humble. But she had not taken herself in +hand, religiously; to take one's self in hand morally, or on +grounds of expediency, never amounts to much; and such taking in +hand was all that Charlotte had as yet attempted. In a little +passion of self-reproach and mortification, she occasionally lopped +off ugly shoots; but the root was still vigorous and lusty, and +only grew the better for its petty pruning. Richard looked very +much displeased at his brother's rudeness, and tried to make up for +it by great kindness and attention.</p> +<p>About this time I had become aware of what were Sophie's plans +for Richard. In case he must marry (to be cured of me), he was to +marry Charlotte, who was so capable, so sensible, of so good +family, so much indebted to Sophie, and so decidedly averse to +living in the country. Sophie saw herself still mistress here, +with, to be sure, a shortened income, and Richard and his wife +spending a few weeks with her in the summer. I do not know how far +Charlotte entered into these plans. Probably not at all, +consciously; but I became aware that, as a little girl, Richard had +been her hero; and he did not seem to have been displaced by any +one entirely yet. But I took a very faint interest in all this. I +should have cared, probably, if I had seen Richard devoted to her. +He seemed to belong to me, and I should have resented any +interference with my rights. But I did not dread any. I knew, +though I took little pleasure in the knowledge, that he loved me +with all his good and manly heart; and it never seemed a +possibility that he could change.</p> +<p>The simple selfishness of young women in these matters is +appalling. Richard was mine by right of conquest, and I owed him no +gratitude for the service of his life. That other was the lord who +had the right inalienable over me. I bent myself in the dust before +him. I would have taken shame itself as an honor from his hands. I +thought of him day and night. I filled my soul with passionate +admiration for his good deeds, his ill deeds, his all. And the +other was as the ground beneath my feet, of which I seldom +thought.</p> +<p>Richard met me at the foot of the stairs, after dinner, as I was +going up.</p> +<p>"Pauline, will you go in the carriage with Charlotte and Sophie? +I am going to drive."</p> +<p>"Oh, it doesn't make any difference," I answered, with +confusion. "Anywhere you choose."</p> +<p>I think he had misgivings about my going from that moment; to +allay which, I called out something about my costume to Sophie as I +went up to my room. The day was growing duller, and stiller, and +grayer. I sat by the window and watched the leaden river. It was +like an afternoon in September, before the chill of the autumn has +come. Not a leaf moved upon the trees, not a cloud crept over the +sky. It was all one dim, gray, gloomy stillness overhead. I +wondered if they would have rain. <i>They</i>, not I, for I was +going to stay at home, and before they came back I should have seen +him. I said that over and over to myself with bated breath, and +cheeks that burned like flame. Every step that passed my door made +me start guiltily. Once, when some one knocked, I pulled out my +gray dress, and flung it on the bed, before I answered.</p> +<p>It was approaching four o'clock. I undressed myself rapidly, put +on a dressing-sack, and threw myself upon the bed. What should I +say when they came for me? They could not <i>make</i> me go. I felt +very brave. At last the carriages drove up to the door. I crept to +the window to see if any one was ready. While I was watching +through the half-closed blinds, some one crossed the piazza. My +heart gave a great leap, and then every pulse stood still. It was +Mr. Langenau. His step was slower than it used to be, and, I +thought, a little faltering. He crossed the road, and took the path +that led through the grove and garden to the river. He had a book +under his arm; he must be going to the boat-house to sit there and +read. My heart gave such an ecstasy of life to my veins at the +thought, that for a moment I felt sick and faint, as I drew back +from the window.</p> +<p>I threw myself on the bed as some one knocked. It was a servant +to tell me they were ready. I sent word to Mrs. Hollenbeck that I +was not well, and should not be able to go with them. Then I lay +still and waited in much trepidation for the second knock. I heard +in a few moments the rustle of Sophie's dress outside. She was not +pleased at all. She could scarcely be polite. But then everything +looked very plausible. There lay my dress upon the bed, as if I had +begun to dress, and I was pale and trembling, and I am sure must +have looked ill enough to have convinced her that I spoke the +truth.</p> +<p>She made some feeble offer to stay and take care of me. "Oh, +pray don't," I cried, too eagerly, I am afraid. And then she said +her maid should come and stay with me, for the children were going +with them, and there would be nothing for her to do. I stammered +thanks, and then she went away. I did not dare to move till after I +had heard both carriages drive off, and all voices die away in the +distance.</p> +<p>Bettina came to the door, and was sent away with thanks. Then I +began to dress myself with very trembling hands. This was new work +to me, this horrible deception. But all remorse for that, was +swallowed up in the one engrossing thought and desire which had +usurped my soul for the days just passed.</p> +<p>It was a full half-hour before I was ready, my hands shook so +unaccountably, and I could scarcely find the things I wanted to put +on. When I went to the door I could hardly turn the key, I felt so +weak, and I stood in the passage many minutes before I dared go on. +If any one had appeared or spoken to me, I am quite sure I should +have fainted, my nerves were in such a shaken state.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI."></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<h3>AUGUST THIRTIETH.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Were Death so unlike Sleep,<br> +Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame, or steel,<br> +Or poison doubtless; but from water--feel!<br> +<br> +<i>Robert Browning</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>I met no one in the hall or on the piazza. The house was silent +and deserted: one of the maids was closing the parlor windows. She +did not look at me with any surprise, for she had not probably +heard that I was ill.</p> +<p>Once in the open air I felt stronger. I took the river-path, and +walked quickly, feeling freed from a nightmare: and my mind was +filled with one thought. "In a few moments I shall be beside him, I +shall make him look at me, he cannot help but touch my hand." I did +not think of past or future, only of the greedy, passionate +present. My infatuation was at its height. I cannot imagine a +passion more absorbing, more unresisted, and more dangerous. I +passed quickly through the garden without even noticing the flowers +that brushed against my dress.</p> +<p>As I reached the grove I thought for one instant of the morning +that he had met me here, just where the paths intersected. At that +moment I heard a step; and full of that hope, with a quick thrill, +I glanced in the direction of the sound. There, not ten yards from +me, coming from the opposite direction, was Richard. I felt a shock +of disappointment, then fear, then anger. What right had he to dog +me so? He looked at me without surprise, but as if his heart was +full of bitterness and sorrow. He approached, and turned as if to +walk with me.</p> +<p>"I want to be alone," I said angrily, moving away from him.</p> +<p>"No, Pauline," he answered with a sigh, as he turned from me, +"you do not want to be alone."</p> +<p>Full of shame and anger, and jarred with the shock and fear, I +went on more slowly. The wood was so silent--the river through the +trees lay so still and leaden. If it had not been for the fire +burning in my heart, I could have thought the world was dead.</p> +<p>There was not a sound but my own steps; should I soon meet him, +would he be sitting in his old seat by the boat-house door, or +would he be wandering along the dead, still river-bank? What should +I say to him? O! he would speak. If he saw me he would have to +speak.</p> +<p>I soon forgot that I had met Richard, that I had been angry; and +again I had but this one thought.</p> +<p>The pine cones were slippery under my feet. I held by the old +trees as I went down the bank, step by step. I had to turn and pass +a clump of trees before I reached the boat-house door.</p> +<p>I was there! With a beating heart I stepped up on the threshold. +There were two doors, one that opened on the path, one that opened +on the river. The house was empty. I had a little sinking pang of +disappointment, but I passed on to the door looking out on the +river. By this door was a seat, empty, but on this lay a book and a +straw hat. I could feel the hot blushes cover my face, my neck, as +I caught sight of these. I stooped down, feeling guilty, and took +up the book. It was a book which he had read daily to me in our +lesson-hours. It had his name on the blank page, and was full of +his pencil-marks. I meant to ask him to give me this book; I would +rather have it than anything the world held, when I should be +parted from him. <i>When!</i> I sat down on the seat beside the +door, with the book lying in my lap, the straw hat on the bench. I +longed to take it in my hands--to wreathe it with the clematis that +grew about the door, as I had done one foolish, happy afternoon, +not three weeks ago. But with a strange inconsistency, I dared not +touch it; my face grew hot with blushes as I thought of it.</p> +<p>How should I meet him? Now that the moment I had longed for had +arrived, I wondered that I had dared to long for it. I felt that if +I heard his step, I should fly and hide myself from him. The +recollection of that last interview in the library--which I had +lived over and over, nights and days, incessantly, since then, came +back with fresh force, fresh vehemence. But no step approached me, +all was silent; it began to impress me strangely, and I looked +about me. I don't know at what moment it was, my eye fell upon the +trace of footsteps on the bank, and then on the mark of the boat +dragged along the sand; a little below the boat-house it had been +pushed off into the water.</p> +<p>I started to my feet, and ran down to the water's edge (at the +boat-house the trees had been in the way of my seeing the river any +distance).</p> +<p>I stood still, the water lapping faintly on the sand at my feet; +it was hardly a sound. I looked out on the unruffled lead-colored +river: there, about quarter of a mile from the bank, the boat was +lying: empty --motionless. The oars were floating a few rods from +her, drifting slowly, slowly, down the stream.</p> +<p>The sight seemed to turn my warm blood and blushes into ice: +even before I had a distinct impression of what I feared, I was +benumbed. But it did not take many moments for the truth, or a +dread of it, to reach my brain.</p> +<p>I covered my eyes with my hands, then sprang up the bank and +called wildly.</p> +<p>My voice was like a madwoman's, and it must have sounded far on +that still air. In less than a moment Richard came hurrying with +great strides down the path. I sprang to him, and caught his arm +and dragged him to the water's edge.</p> +<p>"Look," I whispered--pointing to the hat and book--and then out +to the boat. I read his face in terror. It grew slowly, deadly +white.</p> +<p>"My God!" he said in a tone of awe. Then shaking me from him, +sprang up the bank, and his voice was something fearful as he +shouted, as he ran, for help.</p> +<p>There were men laboring, two or three fields off. I don't know +how long it took them to get to him, nor how long to get a boat out +on the water, nor what boat it was. I know they had ropes and +poles, and that they were talking in eager, hurried voices, as they +passed me.</p> +<p>I sat on the steps that led down the bank, clinging to the low +railing with my hands: I had sunk down because my strength had +given way all at once, and I felt as if everything were rocking and +surging under me. Sometimes everything was black before me, and +then again I could see plainly the wide expanse of the river, the +wide expanse of the gray sky, and between them--the empty, +motionless boat, and the floating oars beyond upon the tide.</p> +<p>The voices of the men, and the splashing of the water, when at +last they were launched and pulling away from shore, made a +ringing, frightful noise in my head. I watched till I saw them +reach the boat--till I saw one of them get over in it. Then while +they groped about with ropes and poles, and lashed their boats +together, and leaned over and gazed down into the water, I watched +in a strange, benumbed state.</p> +<p>But, by-and-by, there were some exclamations--a stir, and effort +of strength. I saw them pulling in the ropes with combined +movement. I saw them leaning over the side of the boat, nearest the +shore, and together trying to lift something heavy over into it. I +saw the water dripping as they raised it--and then I think I must +have swooned. For I knew nothing further till I heard Richard's +voice, and, raising my head, saw him leaping from the boat upon the +bank. The other boat was further out, and was approaching slowly. I +stood up as he came to me, and held by the railing.</p> +<p>"I want you to go up to the house," he said, gently, "there can +be no good in your staying here."</p> +<p>"I will stay," I cried, everything coming back to me. "I +will--will see him."</p> +<p>"There is no hope, Pauline," he said, in a quick voice, for the +boat was very near the bank, "or very little--and you must not +stay. Everything shall be done that can be done. I will do all. But +you must not stay."</p> +<p>"I will," I said, frantically, trying to burst past him. He +caught my arms and turned me toward the boat-house, and led me +through it, out into the path that went up to the grove.</p> +<p>"Go home," he said, in a voice I never shall forget. "You shall +not make a spectacle for these men. I have promised you I will do +all. Mind you obey me strictly, and go up to your room and wait +there till I come."</p> +<p>I don't know how I got there. I believe Bettina found me at the +entrance to the garden, and helped me to the house, and put me on +my bed.</p> +<p>An hour passed--perhaps more--and such an hour! (for I was not +for a moment unconscious, after this, only deadly faint and weak), +and then Richard came. The door was a little open, and he pushed it +back and came in, and stood beside the bed.</p> +<p>I suppose the sight of me, so broken and spoiled by suffering, +overcame him, for he stooped down suddenly, and kissed me, and then +did not speak for a moment.</p> +<p>At last he said, in a voice not quite steady, "I didn't mean to +be hard on you, Pauline. But you know I had to do it."</p> +<p>"And there isn't any--any--" I gasped for the words, and could +hardly speak.</p> +<p>"No, none, Pauline," he said, keeping my hand in his. "The +doctors have just gone away. It was all no use."</p> +<p>"Tell me about it," I whispered.</p> +<p>"About what?" he said, looking troubled.</p> +<p>"About how it happened."</p> +<p>"Nobody can tell," he answered, averting his face. "We can only +conjecture about some things. Don't try to think about it. Try to +rest."</p> +<p>"How does he look?" I whispered, clinging to his hand.</p> +<p>"Just the same as ever; more quiet, perhaps," he answered, +looking troubled.</p> +<p>I gave a sort of gasp, but did not cry. I think he was +frightened, for he said, uneasily, "Let me call Bettina; she can +give you something--she can sit beside you."</p> +<p>I shook my head, and said, faintly, "Don't let her come."</p> +<p>"I have sent for Sophie," he said, soothingly. "She will soon be +here, and will know what to do for you."</p> +<p>"Keep her out of this room," I cried, half raising myself, and +then falling back from sudden faintness. "Don't let her come +<i>near</i> me," I panted, after a moment, "nor any of them, but, +most of all, Sophie; remember--don't let her even look at me;" and +with moaning, I turned my face down on the pillow. I had taken in +about a thousandth fraction of my great calamity by that time. +Every moment was giving to me some additional possession of it.</p> +<p>Some one at that instant called Richard, in that subdued tone +that people use about a house in which there is one dead.</p> +<p>"I have got to go," he said, uneasily. I still kept hold of his +hand. "But I will come back before very long; and I will tell +Bettina to bring a chair and sit outside your door, and not let any +one come in."</p> +<p>"That will do," I said, letting go his hand, "only I don't want +my door shut tight."</p> +<p>I felt as if the separation were not so entire, so tremendous, +while I could hear what was going on below, and know that no door +was shut between us--no door! Bettina, in a moment more, had taken +up her station in the passage-way outside.</p> +<p>I heard people coming and going quietly through the hall below. +I heard doors softly shut and opened.</p> +<p>I knew, by some intuition, that <i>he</i> was lying in the +library. They moved furniture with a smothered sound; and when I +heard two or three men sent off on messages by Richard, even the +horses' hoofs seemed to be muffled as they struck the ground. This +was the effect of the coming in of death into busy, household life. +I had never been under the roof with it before.</p> +<p>About dusk a servant came to the door, with a tray of tea and +something to eat, that Mr. Richard had sent her with.</p> +<p>"No," I said, "don't leave it here."</p> +<p>But, in a few moments, Richard himself brought it back. I can +well imagine how anxious and unhappy he felt. He had, perhaps, +never before had charge of any one ill or in trouble, and this was +a strange experience.</p> +<p>"You must eat something, Pauline," he said. "I want you to. Sit +up, and take this tea."</p> +<p>I was not inclined to dispute his will, but raised my head, and +drank the tea, and ate a few mouthfuls of the biscuit. But that +made me too ill, and I put the plate away from me.</p> +<p>"I am very sorry," I said, meekly, "but I can't eat it. I feel +as if it choked me."</p> +<p>He seemed touched with my submissiveness, and, giving Bettina +the tray, stood looking down at me as if he did not know how to say +something that was in his mind. Suddenly my ear, always quick, now +exaggeratedly so, caught sound of carriage-wheels. I started up and +cried, "They are coming," and hid my face in my hands.</p> +<p>"Don't be troubled," he said, "you shall not be disturbed."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I exclaimed, as he was going away, after another +undecided movement as if to speak, "you know what I want."</p> +<p>"Yes, I know," he said, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"And now they're come, I cannot. They will see him, and I +cannot."</p> +<p>"Be patient. I will arrange for you to go. Don't, don't, +Pauline."</p> +<p>For I was in a sort of spasm, though no tears came, and my sobs +were more like the gasps of a person being suffocated, than like +one in grief.</p> +<p>"If you will only be quiet, I will take you down, after a few +hours, when they are all gone to their rooms. Pauline, you'll kill +me; don't do so--Pauline, they'll hear you. Try not to do so; +that's right--lie down and try to quiet yourself, poor child. I +can't bear to go away; but there is Sophie on the stairs."</p> +<p>He had scarcely time to reach the hall before Sophie burst upon +him with almost a shriek.</p> +<p>"What is this horrible affair, Richard? What a terrible disgrace +and scandal! we never shall get over it. Will it get in the papers, +do you think? I am so ill--I have been in such a state since the +news came. Such a drive home as this has been! Oh, Richard, tell me +all about it quickly. Where is Pauline? how does she bear it?" +making for my door.</p> +<p>Richard put out his hand and stopped her. I had sprung up from +the bed, and stood, trembling violently, at the further extremity +of the room. I do not know what I meant to do if she came in, for I +was almost beside myself at that moment.</p> +<p>She was persistent, angry, agitated. How well I knew the +curiosity that made her so intent to gain admission to me. It was +not so much that I dreaded being a spectacle, as the horror and +hatred I felt at being approached by her coldness and hypocrisy, +while I was so sore and wounded. I was hardly responsible; I don't +think I could have borne the touch of her hand.</p> +<p>But Richard saved me, and sent her away angry. I crept back to +the bed, and lay down on it again. I heard the others whispering as +they passed through the hall. Mary Leighton was crying; Charlotte +was silent. I don't think I heard her voice at all.</p> +<p>After a long while I heard them go down, and go into the +dining-room. They spoke in very subdued tones, and there was only +the slightest movement of china and silver, to indicate that a meal +was going on. But this seemed to give me a more frantic sense of +change than anything else. I flung myself across the bed, and +another of those dreadful, tearless spasms seized me. +Everything--all life--was going on just the same; even in this very +house they were eating and drinking as they ate and drank +before--the very people who had talked with him this day; the very +table at which he had sat this morning. Oh! they were so heartless +and selfish: every one was; life itself was. I did not know where +to turn for comfort. I had a feeling of dreading every one, of +shrinking away from every one.</p> +<p>"Oh!" I said to myself, "if Richard is with them at the table, I +never want to see him again."</p> +<p>But Richard was not with them. In a moment or two he came to the +door, only to ask me if I wanted anything, and to say he would come +back by-and-by.</p> +<p>There was a question which I longed so frantically to ask him, +but which I dared not; my life seemed to hang on the answer. +<i>When were they going to take him away?</i> I had heard something +about trains and carriages, and I had a wild dread that it was soon +to be.</p> +<p>I went to the door and called Richard back, and made him +understand what I wanted to know. He looked troubled, and said in a +low tone,</p> +<p>"At four o'clock we go from here to meet the earliest train. I +have telegraphed his friends, and have had an answer. I am going +down myself, and it is all arranged in the best way, I think. Go +and lie down now, Pauline; I will come and take you down soon as +the house is quiet."</p> +<p>Richard went away unconscious of the stab his news had given me. +I had not counted on anything so sudden as this parting. While he +was in the house, while I was again to look upon his face, the end +had not come; there was a sort of hope, though only a hope of +suffering, something to look forward to, before black monotony +began its endless day.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII."></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +<h3>BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>There are blind ways provided, the foredone<br> +Heart-weary player in this pageant world<br> +Drops out by, letting the main masque defile<br> +By the conspicuous portal.<br> +<br> +<i>R. Browning</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +What is this world? What asken men to have?<br> +Now with his love--now in his cold grave--<br> +Alone, withouten any companie!<br> +<br> +<i>Chaucer</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The tall old clock, which stood by the dining-room door, had +struck two, and been silent many minutes, before Richard came to +me. I had spent those dreadful hours in feverish restlessness: my +room seemed suffocating to me. I had walked about, had put away my +trinkets, I had changed my dress, and put on a white one which I +had worn in the morning, and had tried to braid my hair.</p> +<p>The quieting of the house, it seemed, would never come. It was +twelve o'clock before any one came up-stairs. I heard one door +after another shut, and then sat waiting and wondering why Richard +did not come, till the moments seemed to grow to centuries. At last +I heard him at the door, and I went toward it trembling, and +followed him into the hall. He carried a light, for up-stairs it +was all dark, and when we reached the stairway, he took my hand to +lead me. I was trembling very much; the hall below was dimly lit by +a large lamp which had been turned low. Our steps on the bare +staircase made so much noise, though we tried to move so silently. +It was weird and awful. I clung to Richard's hand in silence. He +led me across the hall, and stopped before the library-door. He let +go my hand, and taking a key from his pocket, put it in the lock, +turned it slowly, then opened the door a little way, and motioned +me to enter.</p> +<p>Like one in a trance, I obeyed him, and went in alone. He shut +the door noiselessly, and left me with the dead.</p> +<p>That was the great, the immense hour of my life. No vicissitude, +no calamity of this mortal state, no experience that may be to +come, can ever have the force, the magnitude of this. All feelings, +but a child's feelings, were comparatively new to me, and here, at +one moment, I had put into my hand the plummet that sounded hell; +anguish, remorse, fear--a woman's heart in hopeless pain. For I +will not believe that any child, that any woman, had ever loved +more absolutely, more passionately, than I had loved the man who +lay there dead before me. But I cannot talk about what I felt in +those moments; all that concerns what I write is the external.</p> +<p>The--coffin was in the middle of the room, where the table +ordinarily stood--where my chair had been that night, when he told +me his story. Surely if I sinned, in thought, in word, <i>that</i> +night, I paid its full atonement, <i>this</i>. Candles stood on a +small table at the head of where he lay, and many flowers were +about the room. The smell of verbena-leaves filled the air: a +branch of them was in a vase that some one had put beside his +coffin. The fresh, cool night-air came in from the large window, +open at the top.</p> +<p>His face was, as Richard said, much as in life, only quieter. I +do not know what length of time Richard left me there, but at last, +I was recalled to the present, by his hand upon my shoulder, and +his voice in a whisper, "Come with me now, Pauline."</p> +<p>I rose to my feet, hardly understanding what he said, but +resisted when I did understand him.</p> +<p>"Come with me," he said, gently, "You shall come back again and +say good-bye. Only come out into the hall and stay awhile with me; +it is not good for you to be here so long."</p> +<p>He took my hand and led me out, shutting the door noiselessly. +He took me across the hall, and into the parlor, where there was no +light, except what came in from the hall. There was a sofa opposite +the door, and to that he led me, standing himself before me, with +his perplexed and careworn face. I was very silent for some time: +all that awful time in the library, I had never made a sound: but +suddenly, some thought came that reached the source of my tears, +and I burst into a passion of weeping. I am not sure what it was: I +think, perhaps, the sight of the piano, and the recollection of +that magnificent voice that would never be heard again, Whatever it +was, I bless it, for I think it saved my brain. I threw myself down +upon the sofa, and clung to Richard's hand, and sobbed, and sobbed, +and sobbed.</p> +<p>Poor fellow! my tears seemed to shake him terribly. Once he +turned away, and drew his hand across his brow, as if it were a +little more than he could bear. But some men, like many women, are +born to sacrifice.</p> +<p>He tried to comfort and soothe me with broken words. But what +was there to say?</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, "What does it all mean? why am I so +punished? was it so very wicked to have loved him after I knew all? +Was all this allowed to come because I did that? Answer me, tell +me; tell me what you think."</p> +<p>"No, Pauline, I don't think that was it. Don't talk about it +now. Try to be quiet. You are not fit to think about it now."</p> +<p>"But, Richard, what else can it mean? I know, I know that it is +the truth. God wouldn't have sent such a punishment upon me if he +hadn't seen my sin."</p> +<p>"It's more likely He sent it to--" and then he paused.</p> +<p>I know now he meant, it was more likely He had sent it to save +me from the sins of others; but he had the holy charity not to say +it.</p> +<p>"Oh," I cried, passionately, "When all the sin was mine, that he +should have had to die: when he never came near me, never looked at +me: when he would rather die than break his word to me. That night +in the library, after he had told me all, he said, 'I will never +look into your eyes again, I will never touch your hand;' and +though we were in the same room together after that, and in the +same house all this time, and though he knew I loved him so--he +never looked at me, he never turned his eyes upon me; and I--I was +willing to sin for him--to die for him. I would have followed him +to the ends of the earth, not twelve hours ago."</p> +<p>"Hush, Pauline," said Richard huskily, "you don't know what +you're saying--you are a child."</p> +<p>"No, I'm not a child--after to-day, after to-night--I am not a +child--and I know too well what I say--too well--too well. Richard, +you don't know what has been in my heart. That night, he held me in +his arms and kissed me--when he said good-bye. Then I was innocent, +for I was dazed by grief and had not come to my senses, after what +he told me. But to-day I said--<i>to-day</i>--to have his arms +around me once again--to have him kiss me once again as he kissed +me then--I would go away from all I ever had been taught of right +and duty, and would be satisfied."</p> +<p>"Then, thank God for what has come," said Richard, hoarsely, +wiping from his forehead the great drops that had broken out upon +it.</p> +<p>"No!" I cried with a fresh burst of weeping. "No, I cannot thank +God, for I want him back again. <i>I want him</i>. I had rather die +than be separated from him. I cannot thank God for taking him away +from me. Oh, Richard, what shall I do? I loved him, loved him so. +Don't look so stern; don't turn away from me. You used to love me. +Could you thank God for taking me away from you, out of your arms, +warm, and strong, and living, and making me cold, and dumb, and +stiff, like <i>that</i>?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, if it had been to save us both from sin."</p> +<p>"You don't know what love is, if you say that."</p> +<p>"I know what sin is, better than you do, maybe. Listen, Pauline. +I've loved you ever since I saw you; men don't often love better +than I have loved you; but I'd rather drag you, to-night, to that +black river there, and hold you down with my own hands till the +breath left your body, than see you turn into a sinful woman, and +lead the life of shame you tell me you had it in your heart to +lead, to-day."</p> +<p>"Is it so very awful?" I whispered with a shiver, my own emotion +stilled before his. "I only loved him!"</p> +<p>"Forget you ever did," he said, rising, and pacing up and down +the room.</p> +<p>I put my hands before my face, and felt as if I were alone in +the world with sin. If this unspoken, passionate, sweet thought, +that I had harbored, were so full of danger as to force God to +blast me with such punishment, as to drive this tender, generous, +loving man to wish me dead, what must be the blackness of the sin +from which I had been saved, if I were saved? If there were, +indeed, anything but shocks of woe and punishment, and deadly +despair and darkness, in this strange world in which I found +myself. There was a silence. I rose to my feet. I don't know what I +meant to do or where to go; my only impulse was to hide myself from +the eyes of my companion, and to go away from him, as I had hidden +myself from all others, since I was smitten with this +chastisement.</p> +<p>"Forgive me, Pauline," he said, coming to my side. "It is the +second time I have been harsh with you this dreadful day. This is +what comes of selfishness. I hope you will forget what I have +said."</p> +<p>I still turned to go away, feeling afraid of him and ashamed +before him. He put out his hand to stop me.</p> +<p>"Pauline, remember, I have been sorely tried. I would do +anything to comfort you. I haven't another wish in my heart but to +be of use to you."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, bursting into tears afresh, and hiding +my eyes, "if you give me up and drive me away from you, I am all +alone. There isn't another human being that I love or that cares +for me. Dear Richard, do be good to me; do be sorry for me."</p> +<p>"I am sorry for you, Pauline; you know that."</p> +<p>"And you will take care of me?" I cried, stretching out my arms +toward him, with a sudden overwhelming sense of my loneliness and +destitution.</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, to the end of my life or of yours; as if you were +my sister or almost my child."</p> +<p>"Dear Richard," I whispered, as I buried my face on his arm, "if +it were not for you I should not live through this dreadful time. I +hope I shall die soon; as soon as I am better. But till I do die, I +hope you will be good to me, and love me." And I pressed his hand +against my cheek and lips, like the poor, frantic, grief-bewildered +child that I was.</p> +<p>At this moment there came a sound of movement in the stables: I +heard one of the heavy doors thrown open, and a man leading a horse +across the stable-floor. (The windows were open and the night was +very still.) Richard started, and looked uneasily at his watch, +stepping to the door to get the light.</p> +<p>"How late is it?" I faltered.</p> +<p>"Half-past three," he said, turning his eyes away, as if he +could not bear the sight of my face. I do not like to remember the +dreadful moments that followed this: the misery that I put upon +Richard by my passionate, ungoverned grief. I threw myself upon the +floor, I clung to his knees, I prayed him to delay the hour of +going--another hour, another day. I said all the wild and frantic +things that were in my heart, as he closed the library-door and led +me to my room.</p> +<p>"Try to say your prayers, Pauline," was all he could answer +me.</p> +<p>I did try to say them, as I knelt by the window, and saw in the +dull, gray dawn, those two carriages drive slowly from the +door.</p> +<p>Richard went away alone. Kilian indeed came down-stairs just as +he was starting.</p> +<p>Sophie had awakened, and called him into her room for a few +moments.</p> +<p>Then he came down, and I saw him get into the carriage alone, +and motion the man to drive on, after that other--which stood +waiting a few rods farther on.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII."></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +<h3>A JOURNEY.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>He, full of modesty and truth,<br> +Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought.<br> +<br> +<i>Tasso</i>.<br> +<br> +Fresh grief can occupy itself<br> + With its own recent smart;<br> +It feeds itself on outward things,<br> + And not on its own heart.<br> +<br> +<i>Faber</i></blockquote> +<br> +<p>A thing which surprises me very much in looking over those days +of suffering, is, that during that day a frightful irritability is +the emotion that I most remember--an irritability of feeling, not +of expression: for I lay quite still upon the bed all day, and only +answered, briefly and simply, the questions of Sophie and the +maid.</p> +<p>I could not sleep: it was many hours since I had slept: but +nothing seemed further from possibility than sleeping. The lightest +sound enraged my nerves: the approach of any one made me frantic. I +lay with my hands crushed together, and my teeth against each +other, whenever Sophie entered the room.</p> +<p>She tried to be sympathetic and kind: but she was not much +encouraged. Toward afternoon, she left me a good deal alone. "I +wonder how people feel when they are going mad," I said, getting up +and putting cold water on my head. I was so engaged with the +strange sensations that pursued me, that I did not dwell upon my +trouble.</p> +<p>"Is this the way you feel when you are going to die? or what +happens if you never go to sleep?" My body was so young and +healthy, that it was making a good fight.</p> +<p>Just at dusk, Richard returned. In a little while, about half an +hour, Sophie came and told me Richard would like to see me in her +little dressing-room.</p> +<p>The day of panic and horror was over, and proprieties must begin +their sway. I felt I hated Sophie for making me go out of my own +room, but I pulled a shawl over my shoulders and followed her +across the hall into her little room. There Richard was waiting for +me. He gave me a chair, and then said, "You needn't wait, Sophie," +and sat down beside me.</p> +<p>Sophie went away half angry, and Richard looked at me +uneasily.</p> +<p>"I thought you'd want to see me," he said.</p> +<p>"Yes," I answered; "I wish you'd tell me everything," but in so +commonplace a voice, I know that he was startled.</p> +<p>"You do not feel well, do you? Maybe we'd better not talk about +it now."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes. You might as well tell me all to-night."</p> +<p>"Well, everything is done. The two persons to whom I telegraphed +met me at the station. There was very little delay. I went with +them to the cemetery."</p> +<p>"I am very glad of that. I thought perhaps you wouldn't go. Was +there a clergyman, or don't they have a clergyman when--when--"</p> +<p>"There was a clergyman," said Richard, briefly.</p> +<p>"I hope you'll take me there some time," I said dreamily. +"Should you know where to go--exactly?"</p> +<p>"Exactly," he answered. "But, Pauline, I am afraid you havn't +rested at all to-day. Have you slept?"</p> +<p>"No; and I wish I could; my head feels so strangely--light, you +know--and as if I couldn't think."</p> +<p>"Haven't you seen the Doctor?"</p> +<p>"No--and that's what I want to say. I <i>won't</i> have the +Doctor here; and I want you to take me home to-morrow morning, +early, I have put a good many of my clothes into my trunk, and +Bettina will help me with the rest to-night. Isn't there any train +before the five o'clock?"</p> +<p>"No," said Richard, uneasily. "Pauline, I think you'd better not +arrange to go away to-morrow."</p> +<p>"If you don't take me out of this house I shall go mad. I have +been thinking about it all day, and I know I shall."</p> +<p>Richard was silent for a moment, then, with the wise instinct of +affection, wonderful in man, and in a man who had had no experience +in dealing with diseased or suffering minds, he acquiesced in my +plan to go; told me that we would take the earliest train, and +interested me in thoughts about my packing. About nine o'clock he +came to my room-door, and I heard some one with him. It was the +Doctor.</p> +<p>I turned upon Richard a fierce look, and said, very quietly, he +might go away, for I would not see the Doctor. After that, they +tried me with Sophie, but with less success; and, finally, Richard +came back alone, with a glass in his hand.</p> +<p>"Take this, Pauline, it will make you sleep."</p> +<p>I wanted to sleep very much, so I took it.</p> +<p>Bettina had finished my packing, and had laid my travelling +dress and hat upon a chair.</p> +<p>"Shall Bettina come and sleep on the floor, by your bed?" asked +Richard, anxiously.</p> +<p>"No, I would not have her for the world."</p> +<p>"Maybe you might not wake in time," said Richard, warily.</p> +<p>That was very true: so I let Bettina come. Richard gave her some +instructions at the door, and she came in and arranged things for +the night, and lay down on a mattress at the foot of my bed.</p> +<p>The sedative which the Doctor sent did not work very well. I had +very little sleep, and that full of such hideous, freezing dreams, +that every time I woke, I found Bettina standing by my bed, looking +at me with alarm. I had been screaming and moaning, she said, The +screaming and moaning and sleeping (such as it was), were all over +in about two hours, and then I had the rest of the night to endure, +with the same strange, light feeling in my head--the restlessness +not much, but somewhat abated.</p> +<p>I was very glad that Bettina was in the room, for though she was +sleepy, and always a little stupid, she was human, and I was a +coward, both in the matter of loneliness and of suffering. I made +her sit by me, and take hold of my hand, and I asked her several +times if she had ever been with any one that died, or that--I did +not quite dare to ask her about going mad.</p> +<p>My questions seemed to trouble her. She crossed herself, and +shuddered, and said, No, she had never been with any one that died, +and she prayed the good God never to let her be.</p> +<p>"You'll have to be with one person that dies, Bettina. That's +yourself. You know it's got to come. We've all got to go out at +that gate," and I moaned, and turned my face away.</p> +<p>"Let me call Mr. Richard," said Bettina, very much afraid. I +would have given all the world to have seen Richard then; but I +knew it was impossible, and I said, No, it would soon be +morning.</p> +<p>Long before morning, I heard Richard up and walking about the +house. We were to leave the house at half-past four. By four, all +the trunks, and shawls, and packages, were strapped and ready, and +I was sitting dressed, and waiting by the window.</p> +<p>Bettina liked very much better to pack trunks, and put rooms in +order, than to sit still and hold a person's hot hands, in the +middle of the night, and have dreadful questions asked her; and she +had been very active and efficient. Soon Richard called her to come +down and take my breakfast up to me. I could not eat it, and it was +taken away. Then the carriage came, and the wagon to take the +baggage. Finally, Richard came, and told me it was time to start, +if I were ready.</p> +<p>Sophie came into the room in a wrapper, looking very dutiful and +patient, and said all that was dutiful and civil. But I suppose I +was a fiery trial to her, and she wished, no doubt, that she had +never seen me, or better, that Richard never had. All this I felt, +through her decently framed good-bye, but I did not care at all; to +be out of her sight as soon as possible, was all that I +requested.</p> +<p>When we went down in the hall, Richard looked anxiously at me, +but I did not feel as if I had ever been there before; I really had +no feeling. I said good-bye to Bettina, who was the only servant +that I saw, and Richard put me into the carriage. When, we drove +away, I did not even look back. As we passed out of the gate, I +said to him, "What day of the month is it to-day?"</p> +<p>"It is the first of September," he returned.</p> +<p>"And when did I come here?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Early in June, was it not?" he said. "You know I was not +here."</p> +<p>"Then it is not three months," and I leaned back wearily in the +carriage, and was silent.</p> +<p>Before we reached the city, Richard had good reason to think +that I was very ill. He made me as comfortable as he could, poor +fellow! but I was so restless, I could not keep in one position two +minutes at a time. Several times I turned to him and said, "It is +suffocating in this car; cannot the window be put up?" and when it +was put up, I would seem to feel no relief, and in a few moments, +perhaps, would be shaking with a nervous chill. It must have been a +miserable journey, as I remember it. Once I said to Richard, after +some useless trouble I had put him to, "I am very sorry, Richard, I +don't know how to help it, I feel so dreadfully."</p> +<p>Richard tried to answer, but his voice was husky, and he bent +his head down to arrange the bundle of shawls beneath my feet. I +knew that there were tears in his eyes, and that that was the +reason that he did not speak. It made me strangely, momentarily +grateful.</p> +<p>"How strange that you should be so good," I said dreamily, "when +Sophie is so hateful, and Kilian is so trifling. I think your +mother must have been a good woman."</p> +<p>I had never talked about Richard's mother before, never even +thought whether he had had one or not, in my supreme and +light-hearted selfishness. But the mind, at such a point as I was +then, makes strange plunges out of its own orbit.</p> +<p>"And she died when you were little?"</p> +<p>"Yes, when I was scarcely twelve years old."</p> +<p>"A woman ought to be very good when it makes so much difference +to her children. Richard, did my uncle ever tell you anything about +my mother--what sort of a woman she was, and whether I am like +her?"</p> +<p>"He never said a great deal to me about it," Richard answered, +not looking at me as he talked. "He thinks you are like her, very +strikingly, I believe."</p> +<p>"Think! I haven't even a scrap of a picture of her, and no one +has ever talked to me about her. All I have are some old yellow +letters to my father, written before I was born. I think she loved +my father very much. The noise of these cars makes me feel so +strangely. Can't we go into the one behind? I am sure it cannot be +so bad."</p> +<p>"This is the best car on the train, Pauline. I know the noise is +very bad, but try to bear it for a little while. We shall soon be +there." And so on, through the weary journey.</p> +<p>At one station Richard got out, and I saw him speaking to +several men. I believe he was hoping to find a doctor, for he was +thoroughly frightened.</p> +<p>Before we reached the city I was past being frightened for +myself, for I was suffering too much to think of what might be the +result of my condition. When we left the cars, and Richard put me +in a carriage, the motion of the carriage and its jarring over the +stones were almost unendurable. Richard was too anxious now to say +much to me. The expression of relief on his face as we reached +Varick-street was unspeakable. He hurried up the steps and rang the +bell, then came back for me, and half carried me up the steps.</p> +<p>The door was opened by Ann Coddle, who was thrown into a +helpless state of amazement by seeing me, not knowing why in this +condition I did come, or why I came at all. She shrieked, and +ejaculated, and backed almost down the basement stairs. Richard +sternly told her she was acting like a fool, and ordered her to +show him where Miss Pauline's room was, that he might take her to +it.</p> +<p>"But her room isn't ready," ejaculated Ann, coming to herself, +which was a wretched thing to come to, as poor Richard found.</p> +<p>"Not ready? well, make it ready, then. Go before me and open the +windows, and I will put her on the sofa till you have the bed ready +for her."</p> +<p>"The sofa--oh, Mr. Richard, it's all full of her dear clothes +that have come up from the wash."</p> +<p>"Well, then, take them off--idiot--and do as you are told."</p> +<p>"Oh, Miss Pauline--oh, my poor, dear lamb. Oh, I'm all in a +flutter; I don't know what to do. I'd better call the cook."</p> +<p>"Well, call the cook, then," said Richard, groaning, "only tell +her to be quick."</p> +<p>All this time Richard was supporting me up the stairs. As we +reached the top, Richard called out, "Tell Peter I want him at +once, to take a message for me."</p> +<p>Ann was watching our progress up the stairs, with groans and +ejaculations, forgetting that she was to call the cook. At the +mention of Peter she exclaimed,</p> +<p>"He's laid up with the rheumatism, Mr. Richard. Oh, whatever +shall we do!"</p> +<p>When we reached the middle of the second pair of stairs, I was +almost helpless; Richard took me in his arms, and carried me.</p> +<p>"Is it this door, Pauline dear?" he said, opening the first he +came to.</p> +<p>I should think the room had not been opened since I went away, +it was so warm and close.</p> +<p>Richard carried me to the sofa, and scattered the +<i>lingerie</i> far and wide as he laid me down upon it, and went +to open the windows. Then he went to the bell and pulled it +violently. In a few moments the cook came up (accompanied by Ann). +She was a huge, unwieldy woman, but she had some intelligence, and +knew better than to whimper.</p> +<p>"Miss Pauline is ill," he said, "and I want you to stay by her, +and not leave her for a moment, till I come back. Make that woman +get the room in order instantly, and keep everything as quiet as +you can." To me: "I am going to bring a doctor, and I shall be back +in a few moments. Do not worry, they will take good care of +you."</p> +<p>When I heard Richard shut the carriage-door and drive away +rapidly, I felt as if I were abandoned, and by the time he returned +with the Doctor, I was in a state that warranted them in supposing +me unconscious, tossing and moaning, and uttering inarticulate +words.</p> +<p>The Doctor stood beside me, and talked about me to Richard with +as much freedom as if I had been a corpse.</p> +<p>"I may as well be frank with you," he said, after a few moments +of examination. "I apprehend great trouble from the brain. How long +has she been in this condition?"</p> +<p>"She has been unlike herself since yesterday; as soon as I saw +her, at seven o'clock last night, I noticed she was looking badly. +She answered me in an abstracted, odd way, and was unlike herself, +as I have said. But she had been under much excitement for some +time."</p> +<p>"Tell me, if you please, all about it; and how long she has been +under this excitement."</p> +<p>"She has been often agitated, and quite overstrained in feeling +for some time. Three weeks ago I thought her looking badly. Two +days ago she had a frightful shock--a suicide--which she was the +first to discover. Since then I do not think that she has +slept."</p> +<p>"Ah! poor young lady. She has had a terrible experience, and is +paying for it. Now for what we can do for her. In the first place, +who takes care of her?" with a look about the room.</p> +<p>"You may well ask. I have just brought her home, and find here, +the man-servant ill, one woman too old and inactive to perform much +service, and another to whom I would not trust her for a moment. I +must ask <i>you</i>, who shall I get to take care of her?"</p> +<p>"You have no friend, no one to whom you could send in such a +case? One of life and death,--I hope you understand?"</p> +<p>"None," answered Richard, with a groan. "There is not a person +in the city to whom I could send for help. All my family--all our +friends, are away. Is there no one that can be got for money--any +money? no nurse that you could recommend?"</p> +<p>"I have a list of twenty. Yesterday I sent to every one, for a +dangerous case of hemorrhage, and could not find one disengaged. It +may be to-morrow night before you get on the track of one that is +at liberty, if you hunt the city over. And this girl is in need of +instant care; her life hangs on it, you must see."</p> +<p>"In God's name, then," said Richard, with a groan, pacing up and +down the room, "what am I to do?"</p> +<p>"In <i>His</i> name, if you come, to that," said the Doctor, who +was a good sort of man, notwithstanding his professional cool ways, +"there is a sisterhood, that I am told offer to do things like +this. I never sent to them, for I only heard of it a short time +ago; but if you have no objection to crosses, and caps, and +ritualistic nonsense in its highest flower, I have no doubt, that +they will let you have a sister, and that she'll do good service +here."</p> +<p>"The direction," said Richard, too eager to be civil. "How am I +to get there?"</p> +<p>The Doctor pulled over a pocket-case of loose papers, and at +last found one, which he handed his companion.</p> +<p>"I give you three quarters of an hour to get back," he said. "I +will stay here till then, at all events. Do not waste any time--nor +spare any eloquence," he added to himself, as Richard hurried from +the room.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX."></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +<h3>SISTER MADELINE.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Yes! it is well for us: from these alarms,<br> +Like children scared, we fly into thine arms;<br> +And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout<br> +With a swift faith which has not time to doubt.<br> +<br> +<i>Faber.</i><br> +<br> +Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend<br> +Towards a higher object. Love was given,<br> +Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end;<br> +For this the passion to excess was driven---<br> +That self might be annulled; her bondage prove<br> +The fetters of a dream, opposed to love.<br> +<br> +<i>Wordsworth</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The next thing that I recall, is rousing from slumber, or +something related to slumber, and seeing a tall woman in the dress +of a sister, standing by my bed. It was night, and there was a lamp +upon a table near. The unusual dress, and the unfamiliarity of her +whole appearance, made me start and stare at her, half raising +myself in the bed.</p> +<p>"Why did you come here?" I said. "Who sent for you?"</p> +<p>"I came because you were sick and suffering, and I was sent in +the Name ----" and bending her head slightly, she said a Name too +sacred for these pages.</p> +<p>I gave a great sigh of relief, and sank back on my pillow. Her +answer satisfied me, for I was not able to reason. I let her hold +my hand; and all through that dark and troubled time submitted to +her will, and desired her presence, and was soothed by her voice +and touch.</p> +<p>Sister Madeline was not at all the ideal sister, being tall and +dark, and with nothing peculiarly devotional or pensive in her cast +of feature. Her face was a fine, earnest one. Her movements were +full of energy and decision, though not quick or sharp. The whole +impression left was that of one by nature far from humility, +tenderness, devotion; but, by the force of a magnificent faith, +made passionately humble, devout from the very heart, more than +humanly compassionate and tender.</p> +<p>I never felt toward her as if she were "born so"--but as if she +were rescued from the world by some great effort or experience; as +if it were all "made ground," reclaimed from nature by infinite +patience and incessant labor. She lived the life of an angel upon +the earth. I never saw her, by look, by word, or tone, transgress +the least of the commandments, so wonderful was the curb she held +over all her human feelings. Nor was this perfection attained by a +sudden and grand sacrifice; the consecration of herself to the +religious life was not the "single step 'twixt earth and heaven," +but it was attained by daily and hourly study--by the practice of a +hundred self-denials--by the most accurate science of spiritual +progress.</p> +<p>Doubtless, saints can be made in other ways, but this is one way +they can be made, starting with a sincere intention to serve God. +At least, so I believe, from knowing Sister Madeline.</p> +<p>She made a great change in my life, and I owe her a great deal. +It is not strange I feel enthusiasm for her. I cannot bear to think +what my coming back to life would have been without her.</p> +<p>Of the alarming nature of my illness, I only know that there +were several days when Richard never left the house, but waited, +hour after hour, in the library below, for the news of my +condition, and when even Uncle Leonard came home in the middle of +the day, and walked about the house, silent and unapproachable.</p> +<p>One night--how well I remember it! I had been convalescent, I do +not know how long; I had passed the childish state of interest in +my <i>bouilli</i>, and fretfulness about my <i>peignoir</i>; my +mind had begun to regain its ordinary power, and with the first +efforts of memory and thought had come fearful depression and +despondency. I was so weak, physically, that I could not fight +against this in the least. Sister Madeline came to my bedside, and +found me in an agony of weeping. It was not an easy matter to gain +my confidence, for I thought she knew nothing of me, and I was not +equal to the mental effort of explaining myself; she was only +associated with my illness. But at last she made me understand that +she was not ignorant of a great deal that troubled me.</p> +<p>"Who has told you?" I said, my heart hardening itself against +Richard, who could have spoken of my trouble to a stranger.</p> +<p>"You, yourself," she answered me.</p> +<p>"I have raved?" I said.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And who has heard me?"</p> +<p>"No one else. I sent every one else from the room whenever your +delirium became intelligible."</p> +<p>This made me grateful toward her; and I longed for sympathy. I +threw my arms about her and wept bitterly.</p> +<p>"Then you know that I can never cry enough," I said.</p> +<p>"I do not know that," she answered. After a vain attempt to +soothe me with general words of comfort, she said, with much +wisdom, "Tell me exactly what thought gives you the most pain, now, +at this moment."</p> +<p>"The thought of his dreadful act, and that by it he has lost his +soul."</p> +<p>"We know with Whom all things are possible," she said, "and we +do not know what cloud may have been over his reason at that +moment. Would it comfort you to pray for him?"</p> +<p>"Ought I?" I asked, raising my head.</p> +<p>"I do not know any reason that you ought not," she returned. +"Shall I say some prayers for him now?"</p> +<p>I grasped her hand: she took a little book from her pocket, and +knelt down beside me, holding my hand in hers. Oh, the mercy, the +relief of those prayers! They may not have done him any good, but +they did me. The hopeless grief that was killing me, I "wept it +from my heart" that hour.</p> +<p>"Promise me one thing," I whispered as she rose, "that you will +read that prayer, every hour during the day, to-morrow, by my bed, +whether I am sleeping or awake."</p> +<p>"I promise," she said, and I am sure she kept her word, that day +and many others after it.</p> +<p>During my convalescence, which was slow, I had no other person +near me, and wanted none. Uncle Leonard came in once a day, and +spent a few minutes, much to his discomfort and my disadvantage. +Richard I had not seen at all, and dreaded very much to meet. Ann +Coddle fretted me, and was very little in the room.</p> +<p>Over these days there is a sort of peace. I was entering upon so +much that was new and elevating, under the guidance of Sister +Madeline, and was so entirely influenced by her, that I was brought +out of my trouble wonderfully. Not out of it, of course, but from +under its crushing weight. I know that I am rather easily +influenced, and only too ready to follow those who have won my +love. Therefore, I am in every way thankful that I came at such a +time under the influence of a mind like that of Sister +Madeline.</p> +<p>But the time was approaching for her to go away. I was well +enough to do without her, and she had other duties. The sick-room +peace and indulgence were over, and I must take up the burden of +every-day life again. I was very unhappy, and felt as if I were +without stay or guidance.</p> +<p>"To whom am I to go when I am in doubt?" I said; "you will be so +far away."</p> +<p>"That is what I want to arrange: the next time you are able to +go out, I want to take you to some one who can direct you much +better than I."</p> +<p>"A priest?" I asked. "Tell me one thing: will he give me +absolution?"</p> +<p>"I suppose he will, if he finds that you desire it."</p> +<p>"What would be the use of going to him for anything else?" I +said. "It is the only thing that can give me any comfort."</p> +<p>"All people do not feel so, Pauline."</p> +<p>"But you feel so, dear Sister Madeline, do you not? You can +understand how I am burdened, and how I long to have the bands +undone?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, I can understand."</p> +<p>I am not inclined to give much weight to my own opinions, and as +for my feelings, I know they were, then, those of a child, and in +many ways will always be. I can only say what comforted me, and +what I longed for. There had always been great force to me, in the +Scripture that says, "Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted +unto them, and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained," even +before I felt the burden of my sins.</p> +<p>I had once seen the ordination of a priest, and I suppose that +added to the weight of the words ever after in my mind. I never had +any doubt of the power then conferred, and I no sooner felt the +guilt and stain of sin upon my soul, than I yearned to hear the +pardon spoken, that Heaven offered to the penitent. I had been +tangibly smitten; I longed to be tangibly healed.</p> +<p>Whatever shame and pain there was about laying bare my soul +before another, I gladly embraced it, as one poor means at my +command of showing to Him whom I had offended, that my repentance +was actual, that I stopped at no humiliation.</p> +<p>It may very well be that these feelings would find no place in +larger, grander, more self-reliant natures; that what healed my +soul would only wound another. I am not prepared to think that one +remedy is cure for all diseases, but I know what cured mine. I +bless God for "the soothing hand that Love on Conscience laid." I +mark that hour as the beginning of a fresh and favored life; the +dawning of a hope that has not yet lost its power</p> +<blockquote> + "to +tame<br> +The haughty brow, to curb the unchastened eye,<br> +And shape to deeds of good each wavering aim."</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX."></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +<h3>THE HOUR OF DAWN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Slowly light came, the thinnest dawn,<br> + Not sunshine, to my night;<br> +A new, more spiritual thing,<br> + An advent of pure light.<br> +<br> +All grief has its limits, all chastenings their pause;<br> +Thy love and our weakness are sorrow's two laws.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The winter that followed seemed very long and uneventful. After +Sister Madeline went away, my days settled themselves into the +routine in which they continued to revolve for many months. I was +as lonely as formerly, save for the companionship of well-chosen +books, and for the direction of another mind, which I felt to be +the truest support and guidance. I was taught to bend to my uncle's +wishes, and to give up constant church-going, and visiting among +the poor, which would have been such a resource and occupation to +me. And so my life, outwardly, was very little changed from former +years--years that I had found almost insupportable, without any +sorrow; and yet, strange to say, I was not unhappy.</p> +<p>My hours were full of little duties, little rules. (I suppose my +heart was in them, or I should have found them irksome.) Above all, +I was not permitted to brood over the past: I was taught to feel +that every thought of it indulged, was a sin, and to be accounted +for as such: I could only remember the one for whom I mourned, on +my knees, in my prayers. This checked, as nothing else could have +done, the morbid tendency of grief, in a lonely, unoccupied, +undisciplined mind. I was thoroughly obedient, and bent myself with +all simplicity to follow the instructions given me. Sometimes they +seemed very irrelevant and useless, but I never rebelled against +any, even one that seemed as hard to flesh and blood as this. And I +have, sooner or later, seen the wisdom of them all, as I have +worked out the problem of my correction.</p> +<p>Obedient as I was, though, and simple as the routine of my life +continued, sometimes there came crises that were beyond my +strength.</p> +<p>I can remember one; it was a furious storm--a day that nailed +one in the house. There was something in the rage without that +disturbed me; I wandered about the house, and found myself unable +to settle to any task. Some one to speak to! Oh, it was so dreary +to be alone. I went into my uncle's room where there were many +books. Among those that were there I found one in French, (I have +no idea how it came there, I am sure my uncle had never read it.) I +carelessly turned it over, and finally became absorbed in it. I +came upon this passage:</p> +<blockquote>Quel plus noir abîme d'angoisse y a-t-il an +monde que le coeur d'un suicide? Quand le malheur d'un homme est +dû à quelque circonstance de sa vie, on pent +espérer de l'en voir délivrer par un changement qui +pent survenir dans sa position. Mais lorsque ce malheur a sa source +en lui; quand c'est l'âme elle-même qui est le tourment +de l'âme; la vie elle-même qui est le fardeau de la +vie; que faire, que de reconnaître en gémissant qu'il +n'y a rien à faire--rien, selon le monde; et qu'un tel +homme, plus à plaindre que ce prisonnier que l'histoire nous +peint dans les angoisses de la faim, se repaissant de sa propre +chair, est réduit à dévorer la substance +même de son âme dans les horreurs de son +désespoir. Et qu'imagine-t-il done pour échapper +à lui-même, comme à son plus cruel ennemi? Je +ne dis pas: 'Où ira-t-il loin de l'esprit de Dieu? où +fuira-t-il loin de sa face?' Je demande, où ira-t-il loin de +son propre esprit? où fuira-t-il loin de sa propre face? +Où descendra-t-il qu'il ne s'y suive lui-même; +où se cachera-t-il qu'il ne s'y trouve encore? +Insensé, dont la folie égale la misère, quand +tu te seras tué, on dira: 'Il est mort;' mais ce sont les +autres qui le diront; ce ne sera pas toi-même. Tu seras mort +pour ton pays, mort pour ta ville, mort pour ta famille; mais pour +toi-même, pour ce qui pense en toi, hélas! pour ce qui +souffre en toi, tu vivras toujours.<br> +<br> +Et comment ne sens-tu pas, que pour cesser d'être malheureux, +ce n'est pas ta place qu'il faut changer, c'est ton coeur. Que tu +disparaisses sous les flots, qu'un plomb meurtrier brise ta +tête, ou qu'un poison subtil glace tes veines; quoi que tu +fasses, et où que tu ailles, tu n'y peux aller qu'avec +toi-même, qu'avec ton coeur, qu'avec ta misère! Que +dis-je? Tu y vas avec un compte de plus à rendre, à +la rencontre du grand Dieu qui doit te juger; tu y vas avec +l'éternité de plus pour souffrir, et le temps de +moins pour te repentir!<br> +<br> +A moins que tu ne penses peut-être, parceque l'oeil de +l'homme n'a rien vu au-delà de la tombe, que cette vie n'ait +pas de suite. Mais non, tu ne saurais le croire! Quand tous les +autres le penseraient, toi, tu ne le pourrais pas. Tu as une preuve +d'immortalité qui t'appartient en propre. Cette tristesse +qui te consume, est quelque chose de trop intime et de trop profond +pour se dissoudre avec tes organes, et ce qui est capable de tant +souffrir ne pent pas s'aller perdre dans la terre. Les vers +hériteront de la poussière de ton corps, mais +l'amertume de ton âme, qui en héritera? Ces extases +sublimes, ces tourments affreux; ces hauteurs des cieux, ces +profondeurs des abîmes; qu'y a-t-il d'assez grand ou d'assez +abaissé, d'assez élevé ou d'assez avili pour +les revêtir en ta place? Non, tu ne saurais jamais croire que +tout meurt avec le corps; ou si tu le pouvais tu n'en serais que +plus insensé, plus misérable encore.</blockquote> +<p>It is proof how child-like I had been, how obedient in +suppressing all forbidden thoughts, that these words smote me with +such horror. I had indulged in no speculation; I had never thought +of him as haunted by the self he fled; as still bound to an +inexorable and inextinguishable life,</p> +<blockquote> + +"With time and hope behind him cast,<br> +And all his work to do with palsied hands and cold."</blockquote> +<p>The terrors I had had, had been vague. I had thought dimly of +punishment, more keenly of separation. If I had analysed my +thoughts, I suppose I should have found annihilation to have been +my belief--death forever, loss eternal. But this--if this were +truth--(and it smote me as the truth alone can smite), oh, it was +maddening. To my knees! To my knees! Oh, that I might live long +years to pray for him! Oh, that I might stretch out my hands to God +for him, withered with age and shrunk with fasting, and strong but +in faith and final perseverance! Oh, it could not be too late! What +was prayer made for, but for a time like this? What was this little +breath of time, compared with the Eternal Years, that we should +only speak <i>now</i> for each other to our merciful God, and never +speak for each other afterward? Spirits are forever; and is prayer +only for the days of the body?</p> +<p>It was well for me that none of the doubts that are so often +expressed had found any lodgment in my brain; if I had not believed +that I had a right to pray for him, and that my prayers might help +him, I cannot understand how I could have lived through those +nights and days of thought.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI."></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +<h3>APRSÉ PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>What to those who understand<br> +Are to-day's enjoyments narrow,<br> +Which to-morrow go again,<br> +Which are shared with evil men,<br> +And of which no man in his dying<br> +Taketh aught for softer lying?</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>It was now early spring: the days were lengthening and were +growing soft. Lent (late that year) was nearly over. I had begun to +think much about the summer, and to wonder if I were to pass it in +the city. There was one thing that the winter had developed in me, +and that was, a sort of affection for my uncle. I had learned that +I owed him a duty, and had tried to find ways of fulfilling it; had +taken a little interest in the house, and had tried to make him +more comfortable. Also I had prayed very constantly for him, and +perhaps there is no way more certain of establishing an affection, +or at least a charity for another, than that.</p> +<p>In return, he had been a little more human to me than formerly, +had shown some interest in my health, and continued appreciation of +the fact that I was in the house. Once he had talked to me, for +perhaps half an hour, about my mother, for which I was unspeakably +grateful. Several times he had given me a good deal of money, which +I had cared much less about. Latterly he had permitted me to go to +church alone, which had seemed to me must be owing to Richard's +intervention.</p> +<p>Richard had been almost as much as formerly at the house: my +uncle was becoming more and more dependent on him. For myself, I +did not see as much of him as the year before. We were always +together at the table, of course. But the evenings that Richard was +with my uncle, I thought it unnecessary for me to stay down-stairs. +Besides, now, they almost always had writing or business affairs to +occupy them.</p> +<p>It was natural that I should go away, and no one seemed to +notice it. Richard still brought me books, still arranged things +for me with my uncle (as in the matter of going to church alone), +but we had no more talks together by ourselves, and he never asked +me to go anywhere with him. At Christmas he sent me beautiful +flowers, and a picture for my room. Sophie I rarely saw, and only +longed never to see Benny was permitted to come and spend a day +with me, at great intervals, and I enjoyed him more than his mother +or his uncle.</p> +<p>One day my uncle went down to his office in his usual health; at +three o'clock he was brought home senseless, and only lived till +midnight, dying without recovering speech or consciousness. It was +a sudden seizure, but what everybody had expected; everybody was +shocked for the moment, and then wondered that they were. It was +very appalling to me; I was so unhappy, I almost believed I loved +him, and I certainly mourned for him with simplicity and +affection.</p> +<p>The preparations for the funeral were so frightful, and all the +thoughts it brought so unnerving, that I was almost ill. A great +deal came upon me, in trying to manage the wailing servants, and in +helping Richard in arrangements.</p> +<p>It was the day after the funeral; I was tired, out, and had lain +down on the sofa in the dining-room, partly because I hated to be +alone up-stairs, and partly because it was not far from lunch-time, +and I felt too weary to take any needless steps. I don't think ever +in my life before I had lain down on that sofa, or had spent two +hours except, at the table, in that room. It was a most cheerless +room, and no one ever thought of sitting down in it, except at +mealtime. I closed the shutters and darkened it to suit my eyes, +which ached, and I think must have fallen asleep.</p> +<p>The parlor was the room which adjoined the dining-room (only two +large rooms on one floor, as they used to build), and separated +from it by heavy mahogany columns and sliding-doors. These doors +were half-way open, and I was roused by voices in the parlor. As +soon as I recovered myself from the sudden waking, I recognized +Sophie's and then Richard's. I wondered what Richard was doing +up-town at that hour, and so Sophie did too, for she asked him very +plainly.</p> +<p>"I thought I ought to come to see Pauline," she said, "but I did +not suppose I should find you here in the middle of the day."</p> +<p>"There is something that I've got to see Pauline about at once," +he said, "and so I was obliged to come up-town."</p> +<p>"Nothing has happened?" she said interrogatively.</p> +<p>"No," he answered, evasively.</p> +<p>But she went on: "I suppose it's something in relation to the +will; I hope she's well provided for, poor thing."</p> +<p>"Sophie," said her brother, with a change of tone, "You'll have +to hear it some time, and perhaps you may as well hear it now. It +is that that I have come up-town about; there has been some strange +mistake made; there is no will."</p> +<p>"No will!" echoed Sophie, "Why, you told me once--"</p> +<p>"That he had left her everything. So he told me twice last year; +so I have always believed to be the case. Since the day he died, +the most faithful search has been made; there is not a corner of +his office, of his library, of his room, that I have not hunted +through. He was so methodical in business matters, so exact in the +care of his papers, that I had little hope, after I had gone +through his desk. I cannot understand it. It is altogether dark to +me."</p> +<p>"What can have made him change his mind about it, Richard? Can +he have heard anything about last summer?"</p> +<p>"Not from me, Sophie. But I have sometimes thought he knew, from +allusions that he has made to her mother's marriage, more than once +this winter."</p> +<p>"He was very angry about that, at the time, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I imagine so. The man she married was poor, and a +foreigner: two things he hated. I never heard there was anything +against him but his poverty."</p> +<p>"How can he have heard about Mr. Langenau?" said Sophie, +musingly.</p> +<p>"I think Pauline must have told him," said Richard.</p> +<p>"Pauline? never. She is much too clever; she never told him. You +may be quite sure of <i>that</i>."</p> +<p>"Pauline clever! Poor Pauline!" said Richard, with a short, +sarcastic laugh, which had the effect of making Sophie angry.</p> +<p>"I am willing," she said, "that she should be as stupid and as +good as you can wish--. To whom does the money go?" she added, as +if she had not patience for the other subject.</p> +<p>"To a brother, with whom he had a quarrel, and whom he had not +seen for over sixteen years."</p> +<p>"Incredible!"</p> +<p>"But there had been some sort of a reconciliation, at least an +exchange of letters, within these three months past."</p> +<p>"Ah!"</p> +<p>"And it is in consequence of hearing from him, and being pressed +by his lawyer for an immediate settlement of the estate, that I +have come up to tell Pauline, and to prepare her for her changed +prospects."</p> +<p>"And what do you propose to advise?" asked Sophie, with a +chilling voice.</p> +<p>"Heaven knows, Sophie," answered her brother, with a heavy sigh. +"I see nothing ahead for the poor girl, but loneliness and trial. +She is utterly unfit to struggle with the world. And she has not +even a shelter for her head."</p> +<p>"Richard," interrupted his sister, with intensity of feeling in +her voice, "I see what you are trying to persuade yourself: do not +tell me, after what has passed, you still feel that you are bound +to her--"</p> +<p>"<i>Bound!</i>" exclaimed Richard, with a vehemence most strange +in him, as, pacing the room, he stood still before his sister. His +back was toward me. She was so absorbed she did not see me as I +darted past the folding-doors into the hall. As I flew panting up +to my own room, I remember one feeling above all others, the first +feeling of affection toward the house that I had ever had. It was +mine no longer, my home never again; I had no right to stay in it a +moment: my own room was not mine any more--the room where I had +learned to pray, and to try to lead a good life--the room where I +had lain when I was so near to death--the room where Sister +Madeline had led me to such peaceful, quiet thoughts. I had but one +wish now, not to see Richard, to escape Sophie, to get away forever +from this house to which I had no right. I pulled down my hat and +my street things, and dressed so quickly, that I had slipped down +the stairs, and out into the street, before they had ceased talking +in the parlor. I heard their voices, very low, as I passed through +the hall. I fully meant never to come back to the house again--not +to be turned out.</p> +<p>My heart swelled as the door closed behind me. It was dreadful +not to have a home. I was so unused to being in the street alone, +that I felt frightened when I reached the cars and stopped +them.</p> +<p>I was going to Sister Madeline. She would take me, and keep me, +and teach me where to live, and how. I was a little confused, and +got out at the wrong street, and had to walk several blocks before +I reached the house.</p> +<p>The servant at the door met me with an answer that made me +wonder whether there were anything else to happen to me on that +day.</p> +<p>Sister Madeline had been called away--had gone on a long +journey--something about the illness of her brother; and I must not +come inside the door, for a contagious disease was raging, and the +orders were strict that no one be admitted. I had walked so fast, +and in such excitement of feeling, that I was weak and faint when I +turned to go down the steps. Where should I go? I walked on slowly +now, and undecided, for I had no aim.</p> +<p>The clergyman to whom I had gone for direction in matters +spiritual, was ill--for two weeks had given up even Lenten duties. +Anything--but I could not go home, or rather where home had been. I +walked and walked till I was almost fainting, and found myself in +the Park. There the lovely indications of spring, and the quiet, +and the fresh air, soothed me, and I sat down under some trees near +the water, and rested myself. But the same giddy whirl of thoughts +came back, the same incompetency to deal with such strange facts, +and the same confusion. I do not know how long I wandered about; +but I was faint and weary and hungry, and frightened too, for +people were beginning to look at me.</p> +<p>It began to force itself upon me that I must go back to +Varick-street after all, and take a fresh start. Then I began to +think how I should get back, on which side must I go to find the +cars--where was I, literally. Then I sat down to wait, till I +should see some policeman, or some kind-looking person, near me, to +whom I could apply for this very necessary information. In the +meantime I took out my purse to see if I had the proper change. +Verily, not that, nor any change at all! My heart actually stood +still. Yes, it was very true: I had given away, right and left, +during this Lent: caring nothing for money, and being very sure of +more when this was gone. I was literally penniless. I had not even +the money to ride home in the cars.</p> +<p>Till a person has felt this sensation, he has not had one of the +most remarkable experiences of life. To know where you can get +money, to feel that there is some <i>dernier ressort</i> however +hateful to you, is one thing; but to <i>know</i> that you have not +a cent--not a prospect of getting one--not a hope of earning +one--no means of living--this is suffocation. This is the stopping +of that breath that keeps the world alive.</p> +<p>The bench on which I happened to be sitting was one of those +pretty, little, covered seats, which jut out into the lake. I +looked down into the water as I sat with my empty purse in my lap, +and remembered vaguely the many narratives I had seen in the +newspapers about unaccounted-for and unknown suicides. I could see +how it might be inevitable--a sort of pressure, a fatality that +might not be resisted. Even cowardice might be overcome when that +pressure was put on.</p> +<p>It is a very amazing thing to feel that you have no money, nor +any means of getting even eightpence: it chokes you: you feel as if +the wheel had made its last revolution, and there was no power to +make it turn again. It is not any question of pride, or of +independence, when it comes suddenly; it is a feeling of the +inevitable; you do not turn to others. You feel your individual +failure, and you stand alone.</p> +<p>For myself, this was my reflection: I had not even a shelter for +my head; Richard had said so. I had not a cent of money, and I had +no means of earning any. The uncle who was coming to take +possession of the house and furniture, was one whom I had been +taught to distrust and dread. He would, perhaps, not even let me go +into my room again, and would turn me out to-morrow, if he came: my +clothes--were <i>they</i> even mine, or would they be given to me, +if they were? This uncle had reproached Uncle Leonard once for what +he had done for me. I had even an idea that it was about my +mother's marriage that the quarrel had occurred. And hard as I had +regarded Uncle Leonard, he had been the soft-hearted one of the +brothers, who had sheltered the little girl (after he had thrown +off the mother, and broken her poor heart).</p> +<p>The house in Varick-street would be broken up. What would become +of the cook, and Ann Coddle? It would be easier for them to live +than for me.</p> +<p>They could get work to do, for they knew how to work, and people +would employ them. I--I could do nothing, I had been taught to do +nothing. I had never been directed how to hem a handkerchief. I had +tried to dust my room one day, and the effort had tired me +dreadfully, and did not look very well, as a result. I could not +teach. I had been educated in a slipshod way, no one directing +anything about it--just what it occurred to the person who had +charge of me to put before me.</p> +<p>I had intended to throw myself upon Sister Madeline. But what +then? What could she have done for me? I had asked her months +before if I could not be a sister, and had been discouraged both by +her and by my director. I believe they thought I was too young and +too pretty, and, in fact, had no vocation. No doubt they thought I +might soon look upon things differently, when my trouble was a +little older.</p> +<p>And Richard--I did not give Richard many thoughts that day, for +my heart was sore, when I remembered all his words. He had always +thought that I was to be rich; perhaps that had made him so long +patient with me. He had said I was not clever; he had seemed to be +very sorry for me. He might well be. Sophie had asked him if he +were still bound to me. I had not heard all his answer, but he had +spoken in a tone of scorn. I did not want to think about him.</p> +<p>There was no whither to turn myself for help. And the clergyman, +who had been more than kind to me, who had seemed to help me with +words and counsel out of heaven,--he was cut off from my succor, +and I stood alone--I, who was so dependent, so naturally timid, and +so easily mistaken.</p> +<p>It was a dreary hour of my life, that hour that I sat looking +over at the water of the pretty placid lake. I don't like to recall +it. Some one passed by me, gave an exclamation of surprise, and +came back hastily. It was Richard. He seemed so glad, and so +relieved to see me--and to me it was like Heaven opening; +notwithstanding my vindictive thoughts about him, I could have +sprung into his arms; I felt protected, safe, the moment he was by +me. I tried to speak, and then began to cry.</p> +<p>"I've been looking for you these last two hours," he said, +sitting down beside me. "I came up-town to see you, and found you +had gone out. I thought you would not be likely to go anywhere but +to see Sister Madeline, and there the servant told me you had come +this way. I could not find you here, and went back to +Varick-street, then was frightened at hearing you had not come +back, and returned again to look for you. What made you stay so +long? Something has happened. Tell me what you are crying for."</p> +<p>I had no talent for acting, and not much discretion when I was +excited; and he found out very soon that I knew what had befallen +me. (I think he believed that Sophie had told me of it.)</p> +<p>"Were you very much surprised?" he said. "Had you supposed that +you would be his heiress?"</p> +<p>"Why, no. I had not thought anything about it. I am afraid I +have not thought much about anything this winter. I must have been +very ungrateful, as well as childish, for I never have felt as if +it were fortunate that I had a home, and as much money as I wanted. +I did not care anything about being rich, you know--ever."</p> +<p>"No, I know you did not. I was sure you would have been +satisfied with a very moderate provision."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, clasping my hands together, "if he had +left me a little--just a little--just a few hundred dollars, when +he had so much, to have kept me from having to work, when I don't +know how to work, and am such a child."</p> +<p>"Work!" he exclaimed, looking down at me as if I were something +so exquisite and so precious, that the very thought was +profanation. "Work! no, Pauline, you shall not have to work."</p> +<p>"But what can I do?" I said, "I have nothing--and you know it; +not a shelter; not the money to pay for my breakfast to-morrow +morning. Not a person to whom I have a right to go for help; not a +human being who is bound to care for me. Oh, I don't care what +becomes of me; I wish that it were time for me to die."</p> +<p>Richard got up, and paced up and down the little platform with +an absorbed look.</p> +<p>"It was so strange," I went on, "when he seemed this winter to +take a little notice of me, and to want to have me near him. I +really almost thought he cared for me. And when I was so ill last +Fall, don't you remember how often he used to come up to my +room?"</p> +<p>"I remember--yes. It is all very strange."</p> +<p>"And some days early in the winter, when I could scarcely speak +at table, I was so unhappy, he would look at me so long, and seem +to think. And then would be very kind and gentle afterward, and do +something to show he liked me--give me money, you know, as he +always did."</p> +<p>"Tell me, Pauline: did he ever ask you anything about last +summer, or did you ever tell him?"</p> +<p>"No, Richard, I could never have spoken to him about it; and he +never asked me. But I know he saw that I was not happy."</p> +<p>"Pauline," said Richard, after a pause, and as if forcing +himself to speak, "there is no use in disguising from you what your +position is: you know it yourself, enough of it, at least, to make +you understand why I speak now. I don't know of any way out of it, +but one; and I feel as if it were ungenerous to press that on you +now, and, Heaven knows, I would not do it if I could think of +anything else to offer to you. You know, Pauline, that if you will +marry me, you will have everything that you need, as much as if +your uncle had left you everything."</p> +<p>He did not look at me, but paced up and down the platform, and +spoke with a thick, husky voice.</p> +<p>"You know it's been the object of my life, ever since I knew +you, but I don't want that to influence you. I know it is too soon, +a great deal too soon. And I would not have done it, if I could +have seen anything else to do, or if you could have done without +me."</p> +<p>I must have been deadly pale, for when at last he looked at me, +he started.</p> +<p>"I don't know how it is," he said, with a groan, "I always have +to give you pain, when, Heaven knows, I'd give my life to spare you +every suffering. I can't see any other way to take care of you than +the way I tell you of, and yet, I have no doubt you think me cruel, +and selfish, to ask you to do it now. It does seem so, and yet it +is not. If you knew how much it has cost me to speak, you would +believe it."</p> +<p>"I do believe it," I said, trying to command my voice. "I think +you have always been too good and kind to me. But I can't tell you +how this makes me feel. Oh, Richard, isn't there any, any other +way?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps there may be," he said, with a bitter and disappointed +look, "but I do not know of it."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard, do not be angry with me. Think how hard it is for +me always to be disappointing you. I have a great deal of +trouble!"</p> +<p>"Yes, Pauline, I know you have," he said, sitting down by me, +and taking my hand in a repentant way. "You see I'm selfish, and +only looked at my own disappointment just that minute. I thought I +had not any hope that you might not mind the idea of marrying me; +but you see, after all, I had. I believe I must have fancied that +you were getting over your trouble: you have seemed so much +brighter lately. But now I know the truth; and now I know that what +I do is simply sacrifice and duty. A man must be a fool who looks +for pleasure in marrying a woman who has no love for him. And I say +now, in the face of it all, marry me, Pauline, if you can bring +yourself to do it. I am the only approach to a friend that you have +in the world. As your husband, I can care for you and protect you. +You are young, your character is unformed, you are ignorant of the +world. You have no home, no protection, literally none, and I am +afraid to trust you. You need not be angry if I say so. I think +I've earned the right to find some faults in you. I don't expect +you to love me. I don't expect to be particularly happy; but there +are a good many ways of serving God and doing one's duty; and if we +try to serve him and to live for duty, it will all come out right +at last. You will be a happier woman, Pauline, if you do it, than +if you rebel against it, and try to find some other way, and put +yourself in a subordinate place, or a place of dependence, and +waste your life, and expose yourself to temptation. No, no, +Pauline, I cannot see you do it. Heaven knows, I wish you had +somebody else to direct you. But it has all come upon me, and I +must do the best I can. I think any one else would advise the same, +who had the same means of judging."</p> +<p>"I will do just what you think best," I said, almost in a +whisper, getting up.</p> +<p>"That is right," he answered, in a husky voice, rising too, and +putting my cloak about my shoulders, which had fallen off. "You +will see it will be best."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII."></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +<h3>A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,<br> +Are governed with a goodly modesty,<br> +That suffers not a look to glance away,<br> +Which may let in a little thought unsound.<br> +<br> +<i>Spenser</i>.<br> +<br> +Vouloir ce que Dieu veut est la seule science<br> +Qui nous met en repos.<br> +<br> +<i>Malherbe</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Richard had obtained for me (with difficulty), from the lawyer +of the new uncle who had arisen, the privilege of remaining in the +house for another month, undisturbed in any way. At the end of +those four weeks I was to be married to him, one day, quietly in +church, and to go away. It was very hard to have to see Sophie, and +be treated with ignominy, for doing what I did not want to do; it +was very hard to make preparations to leave the only place I wanted +to stay in now; it was very hard to be tranquil and even, while my +heart was like lead. But I had begun to discover that that was the +general order of things here below, and it did not amaze me as it +had done at first. I was doing my duty, to the best of my +discernment, and was not to be deterred by all the lead in the +world.</p> +<p>It was very well for Richard to say, he did it for sacrifice and +for duty. I have no doubt at first he did it greatly for those two +things: but he grew happier every day, I could see. He was very +considerate of my sadness, and always acted on the basis on which +our engagement was begun, never keeping my hand in his, or kissing +me, or asking any of the trifling favors of a lover.</p> +<p>He was grave and silent: but I could see the change in his face; +I could see that he was more exacting of every moment that I spent +away from him; he kept near me, and followed me with his eyes, and +seemed never to be satisfied with his possession of me.</p> +<p>He bought me the most beautiful jewels, (he had made great +strides toward fortune in the last six months, and was a rich man +now in earnest,) and though he never clasped them on my throat or +wrist, nor even fitted a ring on my finger, I could feel his eyes +upon me, hungering for a smile, a word of gratitude.</p> +<p>And who would not have been grateful? But it was "too soon, a +great deal too soon," as he had said himself. I was very grateful, +but I would have been glad to die.</p> +<p>I have wondered whether he saw it or not, I rather think not. I +was very submissive and gentle, and tried to be bright, and I think +he was so absorbed in the satisfaction of my promise, so intent +upon his plans for making me happy, and for making me love him, +that he made himself believe there was no heart of lead below the +tranquillity he saw.</p> +<p>It was the third week since my uncle's death. The next week was +to come the marriage, on Wednesday, the 19th of May.</p> +<p>"Marriages in May are not happy," said Ann Coddle.</p> +<p>"I did not need you to tell me that," I thought.</p> +<p>It was on Thursday, the 13th; Richard had come up a little +earlier, in the evening. It grew to be a little earlier every +evening.</p> +<p>"By-and-by he will not go down-town at all, at this rate," I +said to myself, when I heard his ring that night.</p> +<p>I was sitting by the parlor-lamp, with the evening paper in my +lap, of which I had not read a word. He came and sat down by the +table, and we talked a little while. I tried to find things to talk +about, and wondered if it always would be so. I felt as if some day +I should give out entirely, and have to go through bankruptcy. (And +take a fresh start.)</p> +<p>He never seemed to feel the want of talking; I suppose he was +quite satisfied with his thoughts, and with having me beside +him.</p> +<p>By-and-by, he said he should have to go up to the library, and +look over the last of some books of my uncle's, and finish an +inventory that he had begun. Could I not bring my work and sit +there by him? I felt a little selfish, for we were already on the +last week, and I said I thought I would sit in the parlor. I had to +write a letter to Sister Madeline. I had not heard a word from her +yet, though I had written twice.</p> +<p>Why could not I write in the library?</p> +<p>I always liked to be alone when I wrote letters: I could not +think, when any one was in the room. Besides, trying to smile, he +would be sure to talk.</p> +<p>He looked disappointed, and lingered a good while before he went +away. As he rose to go away he threw into my lap a little package, +saying,</p> +<p>"There is some white lace for you. Can't you use it on some of +your clothes? I don't know anything about such things: maybe it +isn't pretty enough, but I thought perhaps it would do for that +lilac silk you talked of."</p> +<p>I opened the package: it was exquisite, fit for a princess; and +as I bent over it, I thought, how dead I must be, that it gave me +no pleasure to know it was my own, for I had loved such baubles so, +a year ago.</p> +<p>"What a mass of it!" I exclaimed, unfolding yard on yard.</p> +<p>"You must always wear lace," he said, throwing one end of it +over my black dress around the shoulder. "I like you in it. I am +tired of those stiff little linen collars."</p> +<p>The lace had given me a little compunction about not spending +the evening with him: but as I had said so, I could not draw back; +so I compromised the matter by going up to the library with him, to +see that he was comfortable, before I came down to write my +letter.</p> +<p>I brought the little student-lamp from my own room and lit it, +and put it on the library-table, and brought him some fresh pens, +and opened the inkstand for him, even pushed up the chair and put a +little footstool by it. Though he was standing by the bookshelves, +and seemed to be engrossed by them, I knew that he was watching me, +filled with content and satisfaction.</p> +<p>"Do you remember where that box of cigars was put?" he said, +turning to me as I paused. That was to keep me longer; for they +were on the shelf, half a yard from where he stood.</p> +<p>I got the cigar-box and put it on the table.</p> +<p>"Now you will want some matches, and this stand is almost +empty." So I took it away with me to my room, and came back with it +filled.</p> +<p>"Is there anything else that I can do?" I said, pausing as I put +it on the table.</p> +<p>"No, Pauline. I believe not. Thank you."</p> +<p>I think that moment Richard was nearer to happiness than he had +ever been before. Poor fellow!</p> +<p>I went down-stairs, feeling quite easy in mind, and sat down to +my letter. That threw me back into the past, for to Sister Madeline +I poured out my heart. An hour went by, and I had forgotten Richard +and the library. I was recalled to the present by hearing some +books fall on the floor (the library was over the parlor); and by +hearing Richard's step heavily crossing the room. I started up, +pushed my letter into my portfolio, and wiped away my tears, quite +frightened that Richard should see me crying. To my surprise, he +came hurriedly down the stairs, passed the parlor-door, opened the +hall-door, and shutting it heavily after him, was gone, without a +word to me. This startled me for a moment, it was so unusual. But +my heart was not enough engaged to be wounded by the slight, and I +very soon returned to my letter and my other thoughts.</p> +<p>When I went up to bed, I stopped in the library, and found the +lamp still burning, the pens unused, a cigar, which had been +lighted, but unsmoked, lying on the table. A book was lying on the +floor at the foot of the bookshelf, where I had left Richard +standing. I picked it up. "This was the last book that Uncle +Leonard ever read," I said to myself, turning its pages over. I +remembered that he had it in his hand the last night of his life, +when I bade him goodnight. I was not in the room the next day, till +he was brought home in a dying state.</p> +<p>Ann had put the books in order, and arranged them, after he went +down-town in the morning.</p> +<p>I wondered whether Richard knew that that was the last book he +had been reading, and I put it by, to tell him of it in the morning +when he came. But in the morning Richard did not come. Unusual +again; and I was for an hour or two surprised. He always found some +excuse for coming on his way down-town: and it was very odd that he +should not want to explain his sudden going away last night. But, +as before, my lack of love made the wound very slight, and in a +little time I had forgotten all about it, and was only thinking +that this was Friday--and that Wednesday was coming very near.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII."></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +<h3>A REVERSAL</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>All this is to be sanctified,<br> + This rupture with the past;<br> +For thus we die before our deaths,<br> + And so die well at last.<br> +<br> +<i>Faber</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Dinner-time came, and passed, and still Richard did not come. At +eight o'clock Ann brought the tea, as usual, and it stood nearly an +hour upon the table; and then I told her to take it away.</p> +<p>By this time I had begun to feel uneasy. Something must have +happened. It would necessarily be something uncomfortable, perhaps +something that would frighten me, and give me another shock. And I +dreaded that so; I had had so many. But perhaps, dreadful though it +might be, it would bring me a release. Perhaps Richard was only +angry with me, and <i>that</i> might bring me a release.</p> +<p>At nine o'clock I heard a ring at the bell, and then his step in +the hall. He was slower than usual in coming in; everything made me +feel confused and apprehensive. When he opened the door and +entered, I was trying to command myself, but I forgot all about +myself when I saw <i>him</i>. His face was white, and he looked +haggard and harassed, as if he had gone through a year of suffering +since last night, when I left him with the lamp and cigar in the +library.</p> +<p>I started up and put out my hand. "What is it, Richard? You are +in some trouble."</p> +<p>He said no, and tried to speak in an ordinary tone, sitting down +on the sofa by my chair.</p> +<p>I was confused and thrown back by this, and tried to talk as if +nothing had been said.</p> +<p>"Will you have a cup of tea?" I asked; "Ann has just taken it +away."</p> +<p>He said absently, yes, and I rang for Ann to bring the tea, and +then went to the table to pour it out.</p> +<p>He sat with his face leaning on his hand on the arm of the sofa, +and did not seem to notice me till I carried the cup to him, and +offered it. Then he started, and looked up and took it, asking my +pardon, and thanking me.</p> +<p>"Are you not going to have one yourself?" he said, half +rising.</p> +<p>"No, I don't want any to-night. Tell me if yours is right."</p> +<p>"Yes, it is very nice," he said absently, drinking some. Then +rising suddenly, he put the cup on the mantleshelf, and said to me, +"Send Ann away, I want to talk to you."</p> +<p>I told Ann I would ring for her when I wanted her, and sat down +by the lamp again, with many apprehensions.</p> +<p>"You asked me if anything had happened, Pauline, didn't you?" he +said.</p> +<p>"No," I answered. "But I was sure that something had, from the +way you looked when you came in."</p> +<p>"It is something that--that changes things very much for you, +Pauline," he resumed, with an effort, "and makes all our +arrangements unnecessary--that is, unless you choose."</p> +<p>I looked amazed and frightened, and he went on.</p> +<p>"I made a discovery last night in the library. The will is +found, Pauline."</p> +<p>I started to my feet, with my hands pressed against my heart, +waiting breathlessly for his next word.</p> +<p>"Everything is left to you--and I have come to tell you, you are +free--if you desire to be."</p> +<p>"Oh, thank God! Thank God!" I cried; then covering my face with +my hands, sank back into my seat, and burst into tears.</p> +<p>He turned from me and walked to the other end of the room; each +of us lived much in that little time.</p> +<p>For myself, I had accepted my bondage so meekly, so dutifully, +that I did not know the weight it had been upon me till it was +suddenly taken off. I did not think of him--I could only think, +there was no next Wednesday, and I could stay where I was. It was +like the sudden cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it +was Heaven. I was crying for joy. But at last the reaction came, +and I had to think of him.</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard," I cried, going toward him, (he was sitting by the +window, and his hand concealed his eyes.) "I don't know what you +think of me, I hope you can forgive me."</p> +<p>He did not speak, and I felt a dreadful pang of +self-reproach.</p> +<p>"Richard," I said, crying, and taking hold of his hand, "I am +ashamed of myself for being glad. I will marry you yet, if you want +me to. I know how good you have been to me. I know I am ungrateful +and abominable."</p> +<p>Still he did not speak. His very lips were white, and his hand, +when I touched it, did not meet mine or move.</p> +<p>"You are angry with me," I cried, bursting into a flood of +tears. "Oh, how you ought to hate me. Oh, I wish we had never seen +each other. I wish I had been dead before I brought you all this +trouble. Richard, do look at me--do speak to me. Don't you believe +that I am sorry? Don't you know I will do anything you want me +to?"</p> +<p>He seemed to try to speak--moved a little, as a person in pain +might do, but, bending his head a little lower on his hand, was +silent still.</p> +<p>"Richard," I said, after several moments' silence, speaking +thoughtfully--"it has all come to me at last. I begin to see what +you have been to me always, and how badly I have treated you. But +it must have been because I was very young, and did not think. I am +sure my heart was not so bad, and I mean to be different now. You +know I have not had any one to teach me. Will you let me try and +make you happy?"</p> +<p>"No, Pauline," he said at last, speaking with effort. "It is all +over now, and we will never talk of it again."</p> +<p>I was silent for many minutes--standing before him with +irresolution. "If it was right for me to marry you before," I said +at last, "Why is it not right now, if I mean to do my duty?"</p> +<p>"No, it is no longer right, if it ever was," he answered. "I +will not take advantage of your sense of duty now, as I was going +to take advantage of your necessity before. No, you are free, and +it is all at an end."</p> +<p>"You are unjust to yourself. You were not taking advantage of my +necessity. You were saving me, and I am ashamed of myself when I +think of everything. Oh, Richard, where did you learn to be so +good!"</p> +<p>A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned away from +me.</p> +<p>"If you give me up," I said timidly, "who will take care of +me?"</p> +<p>"There will be plenty now," he answered bitterly.</p> +<p>"There wasn't anybody yesterday."</p> +<p>"But there will be to-morrow. No, Pauline," he said, lifting his +head and speaking in a firmer voice, "What I thought I was doing, +till this showed me my heart, and how I had deceived myself, I will +do now, even if it kills me. I thought I was acting for your good, +and from a sense of duty: now that I know what is for your good, +and what is my duty, I will go on in that, and nothing shall turn +me from it, so help me Heaven."</p> +<p>"At least you will forgive me," I said, with tears, "for all the +things that I have made you suffer."</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, with some emotion, "I shall forgive you sooner +than I shall forgive myself. I cannot see that you have been to +blame."</p> +<p>"Ah," I cried, hiding my face with shame, when I thought of all +my selfishness and indifference, and the return I had made him for +his devoted love. "I know how I have been to blame; and I am going +to pay you for your goodness and care by breaking your heart for +you--by upsetting all your plans. Oh, Richard! You had better let +it all go on! Think how everybody knows about it!"</p> +<p>He shook his head. "I don't care a straw for that," he said. And +I am sure he did not.</p> +<p>"No," he said firmly, getting up, and walking up and down the +room; "it is all over, and we must make the best of it. I shall +still have everything to do for you under the will; and while you +mustn't expect me to see you often, just for the present time, at +least, you know I shall do everything as faithfully as if nothing +had occurred. You must write to me whenever you think my judgment +or advice would do you any good. And I shall be always looking +after things that you don't understand, and taking care of your +interests, whether you hear from me or not. You'll always be sure +of that, whatever may occur."</p> +<p>"Oh," I faltered, with a sudden frightened feeling of loneliness +and loss, in the midst of my new freedom, "I can't feel as if it +were all over."</p> +<p>"I don't know how this terrible mistake about the will +occurred," he went on, without noticing what I said: "it was only +a--mercy that I found it when I did. It was between the leaves of a +book, an old volume of Tacitus; I took it down to look at the title +for the inventory, and it fell out."</p> +<p>"That was the book he had in his hand when I saw him last, that +night before he died."</p> +<p>"Yes? Then after you went up-stairs I suppose he was thinking of +you, and he took out the will to read it over, and maybe left it +out, meaning to lock it up again in the morning."</p> +<p>"And in the morning he was not well," I said, "and perhaps went +away leaving it lying on the book; I remember, Ann said there were +several papers lying on the table, when she arranged the room."</p> +<p>"No doubt," said Richard, "she shut it up in the book it laid +on, and put it on the shelf. But it is all one how it came about. +The will is all correct and duly executed. One of the witnesses was +a clerk, who returned yesterday from South America, where he had +been gone for several months. The other is lying ill at his home in +Westchester, but I have sent to-day and had his deposition taken. +It is all in order, and there can be no dispute."</p> +<p>I think at that moment I should have been glad if it had been +found invalid. There was something so inevitable and final in +Richard's plain and practical words.</p> +<p>Evidently a great change had come in my life, and I could not +help it if I would. I could not but feel the separation from the +person upon whom I had leaned so long, and who had done everything +for me, and I knew this separation was to be a final one; Richard's +words left no doubt of that.</p> +<p>"What you'd better do," he said, leaning by the mantelpiece, "is +to tell the servants about this--this--change in your plans, +to-morrow; unpack, and settle the house to stay here for the +present. In the course of a couple of months it will be time enough +to make up your mind about where you will live. I think, till the +will is admitted and all that, you had better keep things as they +are, and make no change."</p> +<p>He had been so used to thinking for* me, that he could not give +it up at once. "I will tell Sophie to-morrow," he went on. "It will +not be necessary for you to see her if she should come before she +hears of it from me." (Sophie had an engagement with me to go out +on the following morning. He seemed to to have forgotten +nothing.)</p> +<p>"What will Sophie think of me?" I said, with my eyes on the +floor. "Richard, it looks very bad for me; when I was poor, I was +going to marry you, and now that I have money left me, I am going +to break it off."</p> +<p>"What difference does it make how it looks," he said, "when you +know you have done right? I will tell Sophie the truth, that it was +my doing both times, and that you only yielded to my judgment in +the matter. Besides, if she judges you harshly, it need not make +much matter to you. You will never again be thrown intimately with +her, I suppose."</p> +<p>"No, I suppose not," I said faintly. I was being turned out of +my world very fast, and it was not very clear what I was going to +get in exchange for it (except freedom).</p> +<p>"I will send you up money to-morrow morning," he went on, "to +pay the servants, and all that. The clerk I shall send it by, is +the one that I shall put in charge of your matters. You can always +draw on him for money, or ask him any questions, or call on him for +any service, in case I should be away, or ill, or anything."</p> +<p>"You are going away?" I said interrogatively.</p> +<p>"It is possible, for a while--I don't know. I haven't made up my +mind definitely about what I am going to do. But in case I +<i>should</i> be away, I mean, you are to call on him."</p> +<p>"I understand."</p> +<p>"Anything he tells you, about signing papers, and such things, +you may be sure is all right."</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"But don't do anything, without consulting me, for anybody else, +remember."</p> +<p>"I'll remember," I said absently and humbly. It was no wonder +Richard felt I needed somebody to take care of me!</p> +<p>"I believe there's nothing else I wanted to say to you," he said +at last, moving from the mantelpiece where he had been standing; +"at least, nothing that I can't write about, when it occurs to +me."</p> +<p>"Oh, Richard!" I said, beginning to cry again, as I knew that +the moment of parting had come, "I don't understand you at all. I +think you take it very calm."</p> +<p>"Isn't that the way to take it?" he said, in a voice that was, +certainly, very calm indeed.</p> +<p>I looked up in his face: he was ten years older. I really was +frightened at the change in him.</p> +<p>"Oh!" I exclaimed, putting my face down in my hands, "I wasn't +worth all I've made you suffer."</p> +<p>"Maybe you weren't," he said simply, "But it wasn't either your +fault or mine--and you couldn't help it--that I wanted you."</p> +<p>He made a quick movement as he passed the table, and my +work-basket fell at his feet, and a little jewel-box rolled across +the floor. It was a ring he had brought me, only three days +before.</p> +<p>He stooped to pick it up, and I saw his features contract as if +in pain, as he laid it back upon the table. And his voice was +unsteady, as he said, not looking at me while he spoke, "I hope you +won't send any of these things back. If there's anything you're +willing to keep, because I gave it to you, I'd like it very much. +The rest send to your church, or somewhere. I don't want to have to +look at them again."</p> +<p>By this time I was sobbing, and, sitting down by the table, had +buried my face on my arms.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry that it makes you feel so," he said, "but it can't be +helped. Don't cry, I can't bear to see you cry. Good-bye, Pauline; +God bless you."</p> +<p>And he was gone. I did not realize it, and did not lift my head, +till I heard the heavy sound of the outer door closing after +him.</p> +<p>Then I knew it was all over, and that things were changed for me +indeed.</p> +<p>"I cannot cry and get over it as you can," he had said.</p> +<p>And if tears would have got me over it, I should have been cured +that night.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV."></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +<h3>MY NEW WORLD.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Few are the fragments left of follies past;<br> +For worthless things are transient. Those that last<br> +Have in them germs of an eternal spirit,<br> +And out of good their permanence inherit.<br> + <i> +Bowring</i>.<br> +<br> + Nor they unblest,<br> +Who underneath the world's bright vest<br> +With sackcloth tame their aching breast,<br> +The sharp-edged cross in jewels hide.<br> + <i> +Keble</i>.</blockquote> +<br> +<p>From eighteen to twenty-four--a long step; and it covers the +ground that is generally the brightest and gayest in a woman's +life, and the most decisive. With me it was, in a certain sense, +bright and gay; but the deciding events of my life seemed to have +been crowded into the year, the story of which has just been told. +Of the six years that came after, there is not much to tell. My +character went on forming itself, no doubt, and interiorly I was +growing in one direction or the other; but in external matters, +there is not much of interest.</p> +<p>I had "no end of money," so it seemed to me, and to a good many +other people, I should think, from the way that they paid me court. +I don't see why it did not turn my head, except that I was what +they call religious, and dreadfully afraid of doing wrong. I was +not my own mistress exactly, either, for I had some one to direct +my conscience, though that was the only direction that I ever had. +I had not the smallest restriction as to money from Richard (to +whom the estate was left in trust); and it had been found much to +exceed his expectations, or those of anybody else.</p> +<p>I had the whole world before me, where to go and what to choose; +not very much stability of character, and the greatest ignorance; a +considerable share of good looks, and the love of pleasure +inseparable from youth and health; absolutely no authority, and any +amount of flattery and temptation. I think it must be agreed, it +was a happy thing for me that I was brought under the influence of +Sister Madeline, and that through her I was made to feel most +afraid of sin, and of myself; and that the life within, the growth +in grace, and the keeping clear my conscience, was made to appear +of more consequence than the life without, that was so full of +pleasures and of snares.</p> +<p>I often think now of the obedience with which I would give up a +party, stay at home alone, and read a good book, because I had been +advised to do it, or because it was a certain day; of the +simplicity with which I would pat away a novel, when its interest +was at the height, because it was the hour for me to read something +different, or because it was Friday, or because I was to learn to +give up doing what I wanted to.</p> +<p>These things, trivial in themselves, and never bound upon my +conscience, only offered as advice, had the effect of breaking up +the constant influence of the world, giving me a little time for +thought, and opportunity for self-denial. I cannot help thinking +such things are very useful for young persons, and particularly +those who have only ordinary force and resolution. At least, I +think they were made a means of security to me. I was so in earnest +to do right, that I often thought, in terror for myself, in the +midst of alluring pleasures and delights, it was a pity they had +not let me be a Sister when I wanted to at first. (I really think I +had more vocation than they thought: I could have <i>given up</i>, +to the end of life, without a murmur, if that is what is +necessary.) As to the people who wanted to marry me, I did not care +for any of them, and seemed to have much less coquetry than of old. +They simply did not interest me, (of course, in a few years, I had +outgrown the love that I had supposed to be so immortal.) It was +very pleasant to be always attended to, and to have more constant +homage than any other young woman whom I saw. But as to liking +particularly any of the men themselves, it never occurred to me to +think of it.</p> +<p>I was placed by my fortunate circumstances rather above the +intrigue, and detraction, and heart-burning, that attends the +social struggle for life in ordinary cases. If I were envied, I did +not know it, and I had small reason to envy anybody else, being +quite the queen.</p> +<p>I enjoyed above measure, the bright and pleasant things that I +had at my command: the sunny rooms of my pretty house: the driving, +the sailing, the dancing: all that charms a healthy young taste, +and is innocent. I took journeys, with the ecstasy of youth and of +good health. I never shall forget the pleasure of certain days and +skies, and the enjoyment that I had in nature. In society, I had a +little more weariness, as I grew older, and found a certain want of +interest, as was inevitable. Society isn't all made up of clever +people, and even clever people get to be tiresome in the course of +time. But at twenty-four I was by no means <i>blasé</i>, +only more addicted to books and journeys, and less enthusiastic +about parties and croquet, though these I could enjoy a little +yet.</p> +<p>I had a pretty house (and re-furnished it very often, which +always gave me pleasure). I had no care, for Richard had arranged +that I should have a very excellent sort of person for duenna, who +had a good deal of tact, and didn't bore me, and was shrewd enough +to make things very smooth. I liked her very much, though I think +now she was something of a hypocrite. But she had enough principle +to make things very respectable, and I never took her for a friend. +We had very pretty little dinners, and little evenings when anybody +wanted them, though the house wasn't very large. My duenna (by name +Throckmorton) liked journeys as well as I did, and never objected +to going anywhere. Altogether we were very comfortable.</p> +<p>The people whom I had known in that first year of my social +existence, had drifted away from me a good deal in this new life. +Sophie I could not help meeting sometimes, for she was still a gay +woman, but I naturally belonged to a younger set, and did not go +very long into general society. We still disliked each other with +the cordiality of our first acquaintance, but I was very sorry for +it, and had a great many repentances about it after every meeting. +Kilian I met a good deal, but we rather avoided each other, at +short range, though exceedingly good friends to the general +observation.</p> +<p>Mary Leighton I seldom saw; no doubt she was consumed with envy +when she heard of me, for they were poor, and not able to keep up +with gay life as would have pleased her. She still maintained her +intimacy with Kilian, for he had not the resolution to break off a +flirtation of which, I was sure, he must be very tired.</p> +<p>Henrietta had married very well, two years after I saw her at +R----, and was the staid, placid matron that she was always meant +to be.</p> +<p>Charlotte Benson was the clever woman still: a little +stronger-minded, and no less good-looking than of old, and no more. +People were beginning to say that she would not marry, though she +was only twenty-six. She did not go much to parties, and was not in +my set. She affected art and lectures, and excursions to mountains, +and campings-out, and unconventionalities, and no doubt had a good +time in her way. But it was not my way: and so we seldom met. When +we did, she did not show much more respect for me than of old, +which always had the effect of making me feel angry.</p> +<p>And as for Richard, we could not have been much further apart, +if he had lived "in England and I at Rotterdam." For a year, while +he was settling up the estate, he was closely in the city. I did +not see him more than once or twice, all business being transacted +through his lawyer, and the clerk of whom he had spoken to me. +After the business matters of the estate were all in order, he went +away, intending, I believe, to stay a year or two. But he came back +before many months were over, and settled down into the routine of +business life, which now seemed to have become necessary to +him.</p> +<p>Travel was only a weariness to him in his state of mind; and +work, and city-life, seemed the panacea. He did not live with +Sophie, but took apartments, which he furnished plainly; and seemed +settling down, according to his brother, into much of the sort of +life that Uncle Leonard had led so many years in Varick-street.</p> +<p>Sophie still went to R----, and I often heard of the pleasant +parties there in summer. But Richard seldom went, and seemed to +have lost his interest in the place, though I have no doubt he +spent more money on it than before. I heard of many improvements +every year.</p> +<p>And Richard was now a man of wealth, so much so that people +talked about him; and the newspapers said, in talking about +real-estate, or investments, or institutions of charity--"When such +men as Richard Vandermarck allow their names to appear, we may be +sure," etc., etc. He was now the head of the firm, and one of the +first business men of the city. He seemed a great deal older than +he was; thirty-seven is young to occupy the place he held.</p> +<p>Such a <i>parti</i> could not be let alone entirely. His course +was certainly discouraging, and it needs tough hopes to live on +nothing. But stranger things had happened; more obdurate men had +yielded; and unappropriated loveliness hoped on. The story of an +early attachment was afloat in connection with his name. I don't +know whether I was made to play a part in it or not.</p> +<p>I saw him, perhaps, twice a year, not oftener. His manner was +always, to me, peculiarly grave and kind; to every one, practical +and unpretending. I had many letters from him, particularly when I +was away on journeys. He seemed always to want to know exactly +where I was, and to feel a care of me, though his letters never +went beyond business matters, and advice about things I did not +understand.</p> +<p>As my guardian, he could not have done less, nor was it +necessary that he should do more; still I often wished it would +occur to him to come and see me oftener, and give me an opportunity +of showing him how much I had improved, and how different I had +become. I had the greatest respect for his opinion; and he had +grown, unconsciously to myself, to be a sort of oracle with me, and +a sort of hero, too.</p> +<p>I was apt to compare other men with him, and they fell very far +short of his measure in my eyes. That may have been because I saw +him much too seldom, and the other men much too often.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV."></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +<h3>BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU.</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,<br> +And love me still, but know not why;<br> + So hast thou the same reason still<br> + To doat upon me ever!</blockquote> +<br> +<p>"It's very nice to be at home again," I said to Mrs. +Throckmorton, as I broke a great lump of coal in pieces, and +watched the flames with pleasure.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Throckmorton, putting another piece of sugar in +her coffee, for she was still at the table. "That is, if you call +this home; I must confess it doesn't feel so to me altogether."</p> +<p>"Well, it's our own dear, noisy, raging, racketing, bustling old +city, if it isn't our own house, and I'm sure we're very +comfortable."</p> +<p>"Very," said Mrs. Throckmorton, who was always pleased.</p> +<p>"Every time I hear the tinkle of a car-bell, or the roar of an +omnibus, I feel a thrill of pleasure," I said; "I never was so glad +to get anywhere before."</p> +<p>"That's something new, isn't it?" said Mrs. Throckmorton, +briefly.</p> +<p>"I don't know; I think I am always glad to get back home."</p> +<p>"And very glad to go away again too, my dear."</p> +<p>"I don't think I shall travel any more," I returned. "The fact +is, I am getting too old to care about it, I believe."</p> +<p>Mrs. Throckmorton laughed, being considerably over forty, and +still as fond of going about as ever.</p> +<p>We were only <i>de retour</i> two days. We had started eighteen +months ago, for at least three years in Europe, and I had found +myself unaccountably tired of it at the end of a year and a half; +and here we were.</p> +<p>Our house was rented, but that I had not allowed to be any +obstacle, though Mrs. Throckmorton, who was very well satisfied +with the easy life abroad, had tried to make it so. I had secured +apartments which were very pretty and complete. We had found them +in order, and we had come there from the steamer. I was eminently +happy at being where I wanted to be.</p> +<p>"How odd it seems to be in town and have nobody know it," I +said, thinking, with a little quiet satisfaction, how pleased +several people I could name would be, if they only knew we were so +near them.</p> +<p>"Nobody but Mr. Vandermarck, I suppose," said Mrs. +Throckmorton.</p> +<p>"Not even he," I answered, "for he can't have got my letter yet; +it was only mailed the day we started. It was only a chance, you +know, our getting those staterooms, and we were in such a hurry. I +was so much obliged to that dear, old German gentleman for dying. +We shouldn't have been here if he hadn't."</p> +<p>"Pauline, my dear!"</p> +<p>"Well, I can't think, as he's probably in heaven, that he can +have begrudged us his tickets to New York."</p> +<p>"I should think not," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with a little +sigh. For New York was not heaven to her, and she had spent a good +deal of the day in looking up the necessary servants for our +establishment, which, little as it was, required just double the +number that had made us comfortable abroad.</p> +<p>She had too much discretion to trouble me with her cares, +however, so she said cheerfully, after a few moments, by way of +diverting my mind and her own--</p> +<p>"Well, I heard some news to-day."</p> +<p>"Ah!"--(I had been unpacking all day; and Mrs. Throckmorton in +the interval of servant-hunting had not been able to refrain from a +visit or two, <i>en passant</i> to dear friends.)</p> +<p>"Yes: Kilian Vandermarck was married yesterday."</p> +<p>"Yesterday! how odd. And pray, who has he married? Not Mary +Leighton, I should hope."</p> +<p>"Leighton. Yes, that's the name. No money, and a little +<i>passé</i>. Everybody wonders."</p> +<p>"Well, he deserves it. That is even-handed justice, I'm not +sorry for him. He's been trifling all his days, and now he's got +his punishment. It serves Sophie right, too. I know she can't +endure her. She never thought there was the slightest danger. But +I'm sorry for Richard, that he's got to have such a girl related to +him."</p> +<p>"Oh, well," said Mrs. Throckmorton, "I don't know whether +that'll affect him very much, for they say he's going to be married +too."</p> +<p>"Richard!"</p> +<p>"Yes; and to that Benson girl, you know."</p> +<p>"Who told you?"</p> +<p>"Mary Ann. She's heard it half a dozen times, she says. I +believe it's rather an old affair. His sister made it up, I'm told. +The young lady's been spending the summer with them, and this +autumn it came out."</p> +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> +<p>"I'm sure I don't know; only that's the talk. It would be odd, +though, if we'd just come home in time for the wedding. You'll have +to give her something handsome, being your guardian, and all."</p> +<p>I wouldn't give her anything, and she shouldn't marry Richard, I +thought, as I leaned back in my chair and looked into the fire; a +great silence having fallen on us since the delivery of that piece +of news.</p> +<p>I said I didn't believe it, and yet I'm afraid I did. It was so +like a man to give in at last; at least, like any man but Richard. +He had always liked Charlotte Benson, and known how clever she was, +and Sophie had been so set upon it, (particularly since Richard had +had so much money that he had given her a handsome settlement that +nothing would affect.) And now that Kilian was married and would +have the place, unless Richard wanted it, it was natural that +Sophie should approve Richard having <i>his</i> wife there instead +of Kilian having his; Kilian's being one that nobody particularly +approved.</p> +<p>Yes, it did sound very much like probability. I wasn't given to +self-analysis; but I acknowledged to myself, that I was very much +disappointed, and that if I had known that this was going to +happen, I should have stayed in Europe.</p> +<p>I had never felt as if there were any chance of Richard marrying +any one; I had not said to myself, that his love for me still had +an existence, nor had I any reason to believe it. But the truth had +been, I had always felt that he belonged to me, and was my right, +and I felt a bitter resentment toward this woman, who was supposed +to have usurped my place. How <i>dared</i> Richard love anybody +else! I was angry with him, and very much hurt, and very, very +unhappy.</p> +<p>Long after Mrs. Throckmorton went to her middle-aged repose, I +sat up and went through imaginary scenes, and reviewed the +situation a hundred times, and tried to convince myself of what I +wanted to believe, and ended without any satisfaction.</p> +<p>One thing was certain. If Richard was going to marry Charlotte +Benson, he was not going to do it because he loved her. He might +not be prevented from doing it because he loved me; but he did not +love her. I could not say why exactly. But I knew she was not the +kind of woman for him to think of loving, and I would not believe +it till I heard it from himself, and I would hear it from himself +at the earliest possible date. I did not like to be unhappy, and +was very impatient to get rid of this, if it were not true, and to +know the worst, at once, if it were.</p> +<p>"My dear Throcky," I said to my companion, at the +breakfast-table, "I think you'd better go and take dinner with your +niece to-day. I've sent for Mr. Vandermarck to come and dine, and I +thought perhaps you'd rather not be bored; we shall have business +to talk about, and business is such a nuisance when you're not +interested in it."</p> +<p>"Very well, my dear," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with +indestructible good-humor.</p> +<p>"Or you might have a headache, if you'd rather, and I'll send +your dinner up to you. I'll be sure Susan takes you everything +that's nice."</p> +<p>"Well, then, I think I'll have a headache; I'm afraid I'd rather +have it than one of Mary Ann's poor dinners. (I'd be sure of one +to-morrow if I went.)"</p> +<p>"Paris things have spoiled you, I'm afraid," I said. "Only see +that I have something nice for Richard, won't you?--How do you +think the cook is going to do?" This was the first sign of interest +I had given in the matter of <i>ménage</i>; by which it will +be seen I was still a little selfish, and not very wise. But +Throckmorton was a person to cultivate my selfishness, and there +had not been much to develop the wisdom of common life.</p> +<p>She promised me a very pretty dinner, no matter at what trouble, +and made me feel quite easy about her wounded feelings. One of the +best features of Throckmorton was, she hadn't any feelings; you +might treat her like a galley-slave, and she would show the least +dejection. It was a temptation to have such a person in the +house.</p> +<p>I had sent a note to Richard which contained the following:</p> +<blockquote>"DEAR RICHARD:<br> +<br> +"I am sure you will be surprised to know we have returned. But the +fact is, I got very tired of Italy; and we were disappointed in the +apartments we wanted in Berlin, and some of the people we expected +to have with us had to give it up, and altogether it seemed dull, +and we thought it would be just as pleasant to come home. We were +able to get staterooms that just suited us, and it didn't seem +worth while to lose them by waiting to send word. We had a very +comfortable voyage, and I am glad to find myself at home, though +Mrs. Throckmorton doesn't think the rooms are very nice. I want to +know if you won't come to dinner. We dine at six. Send a line back +by the boy. I want to ask you about some business matters.<br> +<br> +"Affectionately yours,<br> +<br> +"PAULINE."</blockquote> +<p>And I had received for answer:</p> +<blockquote>"MY DEAR PAULINE:<br> +<br> +"Of course I am astonished to think you are at home. I enclosed you +several letters by the steamer yesterday, none of them of any very +great importance, though, I think. I will come up at six.<br> +<br> +"Always yours,<br> +<br> +"RICHARD VANDERMARCK.<br> +<br> +"P.S. I am very glad you wanted to come home."</blockquote> +<p>I read this letter over a great many times, but it did not +enlighten me at all as to his intentions about marrying Charlotte +Benson. It was very matter-of-fact, but that Richard's letters +always were. Evidently he had thought the same of it himself, as he +read it over, and had added the postscript. But that did not seem +very enthusiastic. Altogether I was not happy, waiting for six +o'clock to come.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI."></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +<h3>A DINNER</h3> +<br> +<blockquote>Time and chance are but a tide,<br> +Slighted love is sair to bide.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<p>The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the +door was standing open between them, as I walked up and down the +parlor, waiting nervously for Richard to arrive. The fire was +bright, and the only light in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, +which we had brought from Italy. There were flowers on the table, +and in two or three vases, and the curtains were pretty, and there +were several large mirrors. Outside, it was the twilight of a dark +autumnal day; almost night already, and the lamps were lit. It +lacked several minutes of six when Richard came. I felt very much +agitated when he entered the room. It was a year and a half since I +had seen him: besides, this piece of news! But he looked just the +same as ever, and I had not the self-possession to note whether he +seemed agitated at meeting me. I do not know exactly what we talked +about for the first few moments, probably I was occupied in trying +to excuse myself for coming home so suddenly, for I found Richard +was not altogether pleased at not having been informed, and thought +there must be something yet to tell. He was not used to feminine +caprice, and I began to feel a good deal ashamed of myself. I had +to remind myself, more than once, that I was not responsible to any +one.</p> +<p>"I just felt like it," was such a very weak explanation to offer +to this grave business-man, for disarranging two years of +carefully-laid plans.</p> +<p>I found I was getting to be a little afraid of Richard: we had +been so long apart, and he had grown so much older.</p> +<p>"I hope, at least, you are not going to scold me for it," I said +at last, with a little laugh, feeling that was my best way out of +it. "I shall think you are not glad, to see me."</p> +<p>"I am glad to see you," he said, gravely; "and as to scolding, +it's so long since you've given me an opportunity, I should not +know how to go to work."</p> +<p>"Do you mean, because I've been away so long, or because I've +been so good?"</p> +<p>Susan, who had been watching her opportunity, now appeared in +the dining-room door, and said that dinner was on the table.</p> +<p>Richard asked for Mrs. Throckmorton when we sat down to dinner. +I told him she was dining with her niece. (She had reconsidered the +question of the headache, and had gone to hear more news.) The +dinner was very nice, and very nicely served; but somehow, Richard +did not seem to enjoy it very much, that is, not as I had been in +the habit lately of seeing men enjoy their meals.</p> +<p>"I am afraid you are getting like Uncle Leonard, and only care +about Wall-street," I said. "I shouldn't wonder if you forgot to +order your dinner half the time, and took the same thing for +breakfast every morning in the year."</p> +<p>"That's just exactly how it is," he said. "If Sophie did not +come down to my quarters every week or two, and regulate affairs a +little, I don't know where I should be, in the matter of my +dinners."</p> +<p>"How is Sophie?" I said.</p> +<p>"Very well. I saw her yesterday. I went to put Charley in +College for her."</p> +<p>"I can't think of Charley as a young man."</p> +<p>"Yes, Charley is a strapping fellow, within two inches of my +height."</p> +<p>"Impossible! And where is Benny?"</p> +<p>"At school here in town. His mother will not let him go to +boarding-school. He is a nice boy: I think there's more in him than +Charley."</p> +<p>"And I hear Kilian is married!"</p> +<p>"Yes. Kilian is married--the very day you landed, too."</p> +<p>"Well," I said, with a little dash of temper, "I'm very sorry +for you all. I did not think Kilian was going to be so +foolish."</p> +<p>"He thinks he's very wise, though, all the same," said Richard, +with a smile, which turned into a sigh before he had done +speaking.</p> +<p>"I do dislike her so," I exclaimed, warmly. "There isn't an +honest or straightforward thing about her. She is weak, too; her +only strength is her suppleness and cunning."</p> +<p>"I know you never liked her," said Richard, gravely; "but I hope +you'll try to think better of her now."</p> +<p>"I hope I shall never have to see her," I answered, with angry +warmth.</p> +<p>Richard was silent, and I was very much ashamed of myself a +moment after. I had meant him to see how much improved I was, and +how well disciplined. This was a pretty exhibition! I had not +spoken so of any one for a year, at least. I colored with +mortification and penitence. Richard evidently saw it, and felt +sorry for me, for he said, most kindly,</p> +<p>"I can understand exactly how you feel, Pauline. This marriage +is a great trial to me. I have done all I could to keep Kilian from +throwing himself away, but I might as well have argued with the +winds."</p> +<p>"I don't care how much Kilian throws himself away," I said, +impulsively. "He deserves it for keeping around her all these +years. But I do mind that she is your sister, and that she will be +mistress of the house at R----."</p> +<p>There was an awful silence then. Heavens! what had I been +thinking about to have said that! I had precipitated the +<i>dénouement</i>, and I had not meant to. I did not want to +hear it that moment, if he were going to marry Charlotte Benson, +nor did I want to hear it, if he were saving the old place for me. +I felt as if I had given the blow that would bring the whole +structure down, and I waited for the crash in frightened +silence.</p> +<p>In the meantime the business of the table went on. I ate half a +chicken croquette, and Susan placed the salad before Richard, and +another plate. He did not speak till he had put the salad on his +plate; then he said, without looking at me, in a voice a good deal +lower than was usual to him,</p> +<p>"She is not to be mistress of that house. They will live in +town."</p> +<p>Then I felt cold and chilled to my very heart; it was well that +he did not expect me to speak, for I could not have commanded my +voice enough to have concealed my agitation. I knew very well from +that moment that he was going to marry Charlotte Benson. Something +that was said a little later was a confirmation.</p> +<p>I had recovered myself enough to talk about ordinary things, and +to keep strictly to them, too. Richard was talking of the great +heat of the past summer. I had said it had been unparalleled in +France; had he not found it very uncomfortable here in town?</p> +<p>"I have been out of town so much, I can hardly say how it has +been here," he answered. "I was all of August in the country; only +coming to the city twice."</p> +<p>My heart sank: that was just what they had said; he had been a +great deal at home this summer, and she had been there all the +time.</p> +<p>The dinner was becoming terribly <i>ennuyant</i>, and I wished +with all my heart Throckmorton had been contented with just half +the courses. Richard did not seem to enjoy them, and I--I was so +wretched I could scarcely say a word, much less eat a morsel. It +had been a great mistake to invite him to take dinner; it was being +too familiar, when he had put me at such a distance all these +years: I wished for Mrs. Throckmorton with all my heart. Why had I +sent her off? Richard was evidently so constrained, and it was in +such bad taste to have asked him here; it could not help putting +thoughts in both our minds, sitting alone at a table opposite each +other, as we should have been sitting daily if that horrid will had +not been found. He had dined with us just twice before, but that +was at dinner-parties, when there had been ever so many people +between us, and when I had not said six words to him during the +whole evening.</p> +<p>The only excuse I could offer, and that he could understand, +would be that I wanted to talk business to him; I had said in my +note that I wanted to consult him about something, and I must keep +that in mind. I had wanted to ask him about a house I thought of +buying, adjoining the Sisters' Hospital, to enlarge their work; but +I was so wicked and worldly, I felt just then as if I did not care +whether they had a house or not, or whether they did any work. +However, I resolved to speak about it, when we had got away from +the table, if we ever did.</p> +<p>Susan kept bringing dish after dish.</p> +<p>"Oh, we don't want any of that!" I exclaimed, at last, +impatiently; "do take it away, and tell them to send in the +coffee."</p> +<p>I was resolved upon one thing: Richard should tell me of his +engagement before he went away; it would be dishonorable and unkind +if he did not, and I should make him do it. I was not quite sure +that I had self-control enough not to show how it made me feel, +when it came to hearing it all in so many words. But in very truth, +I had not much pride as regarded him; I felt so sore-hearted and +unhappy, I did not care much whether he knew it or suspected +it.</p> +<p>I could not help remembering how little concealment he had made +of his love for me, even when he knew that all the heart I had was +given to another. I would be very careful not to precipitate the +disclosure, however, while we sat at table; it is so disagreeable +to talk to any one on an agitating subject <i>vis-à-vis</i> +across a little dinner-table, with a bright light overhead, and a +servant walking around, able to stop and study you from any point +she pleases.</p> +<p>Coffee came at last, though even that, Susan was unwilling to +look upon as the legitimate finale, and had her views about +liqueur, instructed by Throckmorton. But I cut it short by getting +up and saying, "I'm sure you'll be glad to go into the parlor; it +gets warm so soon in these little rooms."</p> +<p>The parlor was very cool and pleasant; a window had been open, +and the air was fresh, and the flowers were delicious, and the lamp +was softer and pleasanter than the gas. I went to break up the coal +and make the fire blaze, and Richard to shut the window down.</p> +<p>When I had pulled a chair up to the fire and seated myself, he +stood leaning on the mantelpiece, on the other side from me. I felt +sure he meant to go, the minute that he could get away--a committee +meeting, no doubt, or some such nauseous fraud. But he should not +go away until he had told me, that was certain.</p> +<p>"What is it that you wanted to ask me about, Pauline?" he said, +rather abruptly.</p> +<p>My heart gave a great thump; how could he have known? Oh, it was +the business that I had spoken of in my stupid note. Yes; and I +began to explain to him what I wanted to do about the hospital.</p> +<p>He looked infinitely relieved. I believe he had an idea it was +something very different. My explanation could not have added much +to his reverence for my business ability. I was very indefinite, +and could not tell him whether it was hundreds or thousands that I +meant.</p> +<p>He said, with a smile, he thought it must be thousands, as city +property was so very high. He was very kind, however, about the +matter, and did not discourage me at all. He always seemed to +approve of my desire to give away in charity, and, within bounds, +always furthered such plans of doing good. He said he would look +into it, and would write me word next week what his impression was; +and then, I think, he meant to go away.</p> +<p>Then I began talking on every subject I could think of, hoping +some of the roads would lead to Rome. But none of them led there, +and I was in despair.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't you want to look at some photographs?" I said, at +last, thinking I saw an opening for my wedge. I got the package, +and he came to the table and looked at them, standing up. They were +naturally of much more interest to me than to him, being of places +and people with which I had so lately been familiar.</p> +<p>But he looked at them very kindly, and asked a good many +questions about them.</p> +<p>"Look at this," I said, handing him an Antwerp peasant-woman in +her hideous bonnet. "Isn't that ridiculously like Charlotte Benson? +I bought it because it was so singular a resemblance."</p> +<p>"It is like her," he said, thoughtfully, looking at it long. +"The mouth is a little larger and the eyes further apart. But it is +a most striking likeness. It might almost have been taken for +her."</p> +<p>"How is she, and when have you seen her?" I said, a little +choked for breath.</p> +<p>"She is very well. I saw her yesterday," he answered, still +looking at the little picture.</p> +<p>"Was she with Sophie this summer?"</p> +<p>"Yes, for almost two months."</p> +<p>"I hope she doesn't keep everybody in order as sharply as she +used to?" I said, with a bitter little laugh.</p> +<p>"I don't know," he said. "I think, perhaps, she is rather less +decided than she used to be."</p> +<p>"Oh, you call it decision, do you? Well, I'm glad I know what it +is. I used to think it hadn't such a pretty name as that."</p> +<p>Richard looked grave; it certainly was not a graceful way to +lead up to congratulations.</p> +<p>"But then, you always liked her," I said.</p> +<p>"Yes, I always liked her," he answered, simply.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I'm not very amiable," I retorted, "for I never +liked her: no better even than that fraudulent Mary Leighton, +clever and sensible as she always was. There is such a thing as +being too clever, and too sensible, and making yourself an offence +to all less admirable people."</p> +<p>Richard was entirely silent, and, I was sure, was disapproving +of me very much.</p> +<p>"Do you know what I heard yesterday?" I said, In a daring way. +"And I hope you're going to tell me if it's true, to-night?"</p> +<p>"What was it that you heard yesterday?" he asked, without much +change of tone. He had laid down the photograph, and had gone back, +and was leaning by the mantelpiece again.</p> +<p>"Why, I heard that you were going to marry Charlotte Benson. Is +it true?"</p> +<p>I had pushed away the pile of photographs from me, and had +looked up at him when I began, but my voice and courage rather +failed before the end, and my eyes fell. There was a silence--a +silence that seemed to stifle me.</p> +<p>"Why do you ask me that question?" he said, at last, in a low +voice. "Do you believe I am, yourself?"</p> +<p>"No," I cried, springing up, and going over to his side. "No, I +don't believe it. Tell me it isn't true, and promise me you won't +ever, ever marry Charlotte Benson."</p> +<p>The relief was so unspeakable that I didn't care what I said, +and the joy I felt showed itself in my face and voice. I put out my +hand to him when I said "promise me," but he did not take it, and +turned his head away from me.</p> +<p>"I shall not marry Charlotte Benson," he said; "but I cannot +understand what difference it makes to you."</p> +<p>It was now my turn to be silent, and I shrank back a step or two +in great confusion.</p> +<p>He raised his head, and looked steadily at me for a moment, and +then said:</p> +<p>"Pauline, you did a great many things, but I don't think you +ever willingly deceived me. Did you?"</p> +<p>I shook my head without looking lip.</p> +<p>"Then be careful what you do now, and let the past alone," he +said, and his voice was almost stern.</p> +<p>I trembled, and turned pale.</p> +<p>"Women sometimes play with dangerous weapons," he said; "I don't +accuse you of meaning to give pain, but only of forgetting that +some recollections are not to you what they are to me. I never want +to interfere with any one's comfort or enjoyment; I only want to be +let alone. I do very well, and am not unhappy. About marrying, now +or ever, I should have thought you would have known. But let me +tell you once for all: I haven't any thought of it, and shall not +ever have. It is not that I am holding to any foolish hopes. It +would be exactly the same if you were married, or had died. It +simply isn't in my nature to feel the same way a second time. +People are made differently, that is all. I'm very well contented, +and you need never let it worry you."</p> +<p>He was very pale now, and his eyes had an expression I had never +seen in them before.</p> +<p>"Richard," I said, faintly, "I never <i>have</i> deceived you: +believe me now when I tell you, I am sorry from my heart for all +that's past."</p> +<p>"You told me so before, and I did forgive you. I forgave you +fully, and have never had a thought that wasn't kind."</p> +<p>"I know it," I said. "But you do not trust me--you don't ever +come near me, or want to see me."</p> +<p>"You do not know what you are talking of," he answered, turning +from me. "I forgive you anything you may have done at any time to +give me pain. I will do everything I can to serve you, in every way +I can; only do not stir up the past, and let me forget the little +of it that I can forget."</p> +<p>I burst into tears, and put my hands before my face.</p> +<p>"What is it?" he said, uneasily. "You need not be troubled about +me."</p> +<p>Seeing that I did not stop, he said again, "Tell me: is it that +that troubles you?"</p> +<p>I shook my head.</p> +<p>"What is it, then? Something that I do not know about? Pauline, +you are unhappy, and yet you've everything in the world to make you +happy. I often think, there are not many women have as much."</p> +<p>"The poorest of them are better off than I," I said, without +raising my head.</p> +<p>"Then you are ungrateful," he said, "for you have youth, and +health, and money, and everybody likes you. You could choose from +all the world."</p> +<p>"No, I couldn't," I exclaimed, like a child; "and everybody +doesn't like me,"--and then I cried again, for I was really in +despair, and thought he meant to put me away, memory and all.</p> +<p>"Well, if that's your trouble," he said, with a sigh, "I suppose +I cannot help you; but I'm very sorry."</p> +<p>"Yes, you <i>can</i> help me," I cried imploringly, forgetting +all I ought to have remembered; "if you only would forgive me, +really and in earnest, and be friends again--and let me try--" and +I covered my face with my hands.</p> +<p>"Pauline," he said, standing by my side, and his voice almost +frightened me, it was so strong with feeling; "is this a piece of +sentiment? Do you mean anything? Or am I to be trifled with +again?"</p> +<p>He took hold of my wrists with both his hands, with such force +as to give me pain, and drew them from my face.</p> +<p>"Look at me," he said, "and tell me what you mean; and decide +now--forever and forever. For this is the last time that you will +have a chance to say."</p> +<p>"It's all very well," I said, trying to turn my face away from +him. "It's all very well to talk about loving me yet, and being +just the same; but this isn't the way you used to talk, and I think +it's very hard--"</p> +<p>"That isn't answering me," he said, holding me closer to +him.</p> +<p>"What shall I say," I whispered, hiding my face upon his arm. +"Nothing will ever satisfy you."</p> +<p>"Nothing ever <i>has</i> satisfied me," he said, "--before."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD VANDERMARCK***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 12348-h.txt or 12348-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/4/12348">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/4/12348</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Richard Vandermarck + +Author: Miriam Coles Harris + +Release Date: May 14, 2004 [eBook #12348] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD VANDERMARCK*** + + +E-text prepared by Curtis Weyant, Charlie Kirschner, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +RICHARD VANDERMARCK + +A Novel + +By MRS. SIDNEY S. HARRIS + +Author of "Rutledge," "St. Phillips," etc., etc. + +1871 + + + + + + + +To S.S.H. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I. +VARICK-STREET + +CHAPTER II. +VERY GOOD LUCK + +CHAPTER III. +KILIAN + +CHAPTER IV. +MY COMPANIONS + +CHAPTER V. +THE TUTOR + +CHAPTER VI. +MATINAL + +CHAPTER VII. +THREE WEEKS TOO LATE + +CHAPTER VIII. +SUNDAY + +CHAPTER IX. +A DANCE + +CHAPTER X. +EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN. + +CHAPTER XI. +SOPHIE'S WORK + +CHAPTER XII. +PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME + +CHAPTER XIV. +GUARDED + +CHAPTER XV. +I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM + +CHAPTER XVI. +AUGUST THIRTIETH + +CHAPTER XVII. +BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN + +CHAPTER XVIII. +A JOURNEY + +CHAPTER XIX. +SISTER MADELINE + +CHAPTER XX. +THE HOUR OF DAWN + +CHAPTER XXI. +APRES PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN + +CHAPTER XXII. +A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON + +CHAPTER XXIII. +A REVERSAL + +CHAPTER XXIV. +MY NEW WORLD + +CHAPTER XXV. +BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU + +CHAPTER XXVI. +A DINNER + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +VARICK STREET. + + O for one spot of living green, + One little spot where leaves can grow,-- + To love unblamed, to walk unseen, + To dream above, to sleep below! + + _Holmes_. + + + There are in this loud stunning tide, + Of human care and crime, + With whom the melodies abide + Of th' everlasting chime; + + * * * * * + + And to wise hearts this certain hope is given; + "No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven." + + _Keble._ + + +I never knew exactly how the invitation came; I felt very much honored +by it, though I think now, very likely the honor was felt to be upon the +other side. I was exceedingly young, and exceedingly ignorant, not +seventeen, and an orphan, living in the house of an uncle, an unmarried +man of nearly seventy, wholly absorbed in business, and not much more +interested in me than in his clerks and servants. + +I had come under his protection, a little girl of two years old, and had +been in his house ever since. I had had as good care as a very ordinary +class of servants could give me, and was supplied with some one to teach +me, and had as much money to spend as was good for me--perhaps more; and +I do not feel inclined to say my uncle did not do his duty, for I do not +think he knew of anything further to do; and strictly speaking, I had no +claim on him, for I was only a great-niece, and there were those living +who were more nearly related to me, and who were abundantly able to +provide for me, if they had been willing to do it. + +When I came in to the household, its wants were attended to by a cook +and a man-servant, who had lived many years with my uncle. A third +person was employed as my nurse, and a great deal of quarrelling was the +result of her coming. I quite wonder my uncle did not put me away at +board somewhere, rather than be disturbed. But in truth, I do not +believe that the quarrelling disturbed him much, or that he paid much +attention to the matter, and so the matter settled itself. My nurses +were changed very often, by will of the cook and old Peter, and I never +was happy enough to have one who had very high principle, or was more +than ordinarily good-tempered. + +I don't know who selected my teachers; probably they applied for +employment and were received. They were very business-like and +unsuggestive people. I was of no more interest to them than a bale of +goods, I believe. Indeed, I seemed likely to go a bale of goods through +life; everything that was done for me was done for money, and with a +view to the benefit of the person serving me. I was not sent to school, +which was a very great pity; it was owing to the fact, no doubt, that +somebody applied to my uncle to teach me at home, and so the system was +inaugurated, and never received a second thought, and I went on being +taught at home till I was seventeen. + +The "home" was as follows; a large dark house on the unsunny side of a +dull street; furniture that had not been changed for forty years, walls +that were seldom repainted, windows that were rarely opened. The +neighborhood had been for many years unfashionable and undesirable, and, +by the time I was grown up, nobody would have lived in it, who had cared +to have a cheerful home, I might almost have said, a respectable one, I +fancy ours was nearly the only house in the block occupied by its owner; +the others, equally large, were rented for tenement houses, or +boarding-houses, and perhaps for many things worse. It was probably +owing to this fact, that my uncle gave orders, once for all, I was never +to go into the street alone; and I believe, in my whole life, I had +never taken a walk unaccompanied by a servant, or one of my teachers. + +A very dull life indeed. I wonder how I endured it. The rooms were so +dismal, the windows so uneventful. If it had not been for a room in the +garret where I had my playthings, and where the sun came all day long, I +am sure I should have been a much worse and more unhappy child. As I +grew older, I tried to adorn my room (my own respectable sleeping room, +I mean), with engravings, and the little ornaments that I could buy. But +it was a hopeless attempt. The walls were so high and so dingy, the +little pictures were lost upon them; and the vases on the great black +mantel-shelf looked so insignificant, I felt ashamed of them, and owned +the unfitness of decorating such a room. No flowers would grow in those +cold north windows--no bird would sing in sight of such a street. I gave +it up with a sigh; and there was one good instinct lost. + +When I was about eleven, I fell foul of some good books. If it had not +been for them, I truly do not see how I could have known that I was not +to lie or steal, and that God was to be worshipped. Certainly, I had had +hands slapped many times for taking things I had been forbidden to +touch, and had had many a battle in consequence of "telling stories," +with the servants of the house, but I had always recognized the personal +spite of the punishments, and they had not carried with them any +moral lesson. + +I had sometimes gone to church; but the sermons in large city churches +are not generally elementary, and I did not understand those that I +heard at all. Occasionally I went with the nurse to Vespers, and that I +thought delightful. I was enraptured with the pictures, the music, the +rich clothes of the priests; if it had not been for the bad odor of the +neighboring worshippers, I think I might have rushed into the bosom of +the Church of Rome. But that offended sense restrained me. And so, as I +said, if I had not obtained access to some books of holy and pure +influence, and been starved by the dullness of the life around me into +taking hold of them with eagerness, I should have led the life of a +little heathen in the midst of light. Of course the books were not +written for my especial case, nor were they books for children,--and so, +much was supposed, and not expressed, and consequently the truth they +imparted to me was but fragmentary. But it was truth, and the +influence was holy. + +I was driven to books; I do not believe I had any more desire than most +vivid, palpitating, fluttering young things of my sex, to pore over a +dull black and white page; but this black and white gate opened to me +golden fields of happiness, while I was perishing of hunger in a life of +dreary fact. + +When I was about sixteen, however, an outside human influence, not +written in black and white, came into the current of my existence. About +that time, my uncle took into his firm, as junior partner, a young man +who had long been a clerk in the house. After his promotion he often +came home with my uncle to dinner. I think this was done, perhaps, with +a view of civil treatment, on the first occasion; but afterward, it was +continued because my uncle could not bear to leave business when he left +the office, and because he could talk on the matters which were dearer +to him than his dinner, with this junior, in whom he took unqualified +delight. He often wrote letters in the evening, which my uncle dictated, +and he sometimes did not go away till eleven o'clock at night. The first +time he came, I did not notice him very much. It was not unusual for +Uncle Leonard to be accompanied by some gentleman who talked business +with him during dinner; and being naturally shy, and moreover, on this +occasion, in the middle of a very interesting book, at once timid and +indifferent, I slipped away from the table the moment that I could. But +upon the third or fourth occasion of his being there, I became +interested, finding often a pair of handsome eyes fixed on me, and being +occasionally addressed and made a partner in the conversation. Uncle +Leonard very rarely talked to me, and I think found me in the way when +Richard Vandermarck made the talk extend to me. + +But this was the beginning of a very much improved era for me. I lost my +shyness, and my fear of Uncle Leonard, and indeed, I think, my frantic +thirst for books, and became quite a young lady. We were great friends; +he brought me books, he told me about other people, he opened a thousand +doors of interest and pleasure to me. I never can enumerate all I owed +to him. My dull life was changed, and the house owed him gratitude. + +We began to have the gas lighted in the parlor, and even Uncle Leonard +came in there sometimes and sat after dinner, before he went up into +that dreary library above. I think he rather enjoyed hearing us talk +gayly across his sombre board; he certainly became softer and more human +toward me after Richard came to be so constantly a guest. He gave me +more money to spend, (that was always the expression of his feelings, +his language, so to speak;) he made various inquiries and improvements +about the house. The dinners themselves were improved, for a horrible +monotony had crept into the soups and sauces of forty years; and Uncle +Leonard was no epicure; he seemed to have no more stomach than he had +heart; brain and pocket made the man. + +I think unconsciously he was much influenced by Richard, whose business +talent had charmed him, and to whom he looked for much that he knew he +must soon lose. He was glad to make the house seem pleasant to him, and +he was much gratified by his frequent coming. And Richard was peculiarly +a man to like and to lean upon. Not in any way brilliant, and with no +literary tastes, he was well educated enough, and very well informed; a +thorough business man. I think he was ordinarily reserved, but our +intercourse had been so unconventional, that I did not think him so at +all. He was rather good-looking, tall and square-shouldered, with +light-brown hair and fine dark-blue eyes; he had a great many points of +advantage. + +One day, long after he had become almost a member of the household, he +told me he wanted me to know his sister, and that she would come the +next day to see me, if I would like it. I did like it, and waited for +her with impatience. He had told me a great deal about her, and I was +full of curiosity to see her. She was a little older than Richard, and +the only sister; very pretty, and quite a person of consequence in +society. She had made an unfortunate marriage, though of that Richard +said very little to me; but with better luck than attends most +unfortunately-married, women, she was released by her husband's early +death, and was free to be happy again, with some pretty boys, a moderate +fortune, and two brothers to look after her investments, and do her +little errands for her. She considered herself fortunate; and was a +widow of rare discretion, in that she was wedded to her unexpected +independence, and never intended to be wedded to anything or anybody +else. She was naturally cool and calculating, and was in no danger of +being betrayed by her feelings into any other course of life than the +one she had marked out as most expedient. If she was worldly, she was +also useful, intelligent, and popular, and a paragon in her brother's +partial eyes. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +VERY GOOD LUCK. + + Mieux vaut une once de fortune qu'une livre de sagesse. + + +At last (on the day on which Richard had advertised me she was coming,) +the door was opened, and some one was taken to the parlor. Then old +Peter rang a bell which stood on the hall table, and called out to Ann +Coddle (once my nurse, now the seamstress, chambermaid, and general +lightener of his toils), to tell Miss Pauline a lady wanted her. + +This bell was to save his old bones; he never went up-stairs, and he +resented every visitor as an innovation. They were so few, his temper +was not much tried. I was leaning over the stairs when the bell rang, +and did not need a second message. Ann, who continued to feel a care for +my personal appearance, followed me to the landing-place and gave my +sash a last pull. + +When I found myself in the parlor I began to experience a little +embarrassment. Mrs. Hollenbeck was so pretty and her dress was so +dainty, the dingy, stiff, old parlor filled me with dismay. Fortunately, +I did not think much of myself or my own dress. But after a little, she +put me at ease, that is, drew me out and made me feel like talking +to her. + +I admired her very much, but I did not feel any of the affection and +quick cordiality with which Richard had inspired me. I could tell that +she was curious about me, and was watching me attentively, and though +she was so charming that I felt flattered by her interest, I was not +pleased when I remembered my interview with her. + +"You are not at all like your brother," I said, glancing in her face +with frankness. + +"No?" she said smilingly, and looking attentively at me with an +expression which I did not understand. + +And then she drew me on to speak of all his features, which I did with +the utmost candor, showing great knowledge of the subject. + +"And you," she said, "you do not look at all as I supposed. You are not +nearly so young--Richard told me you were quite a child. I was not +prepared for this grace; this young ladyhood--'cette taille de +palmier,'" she added, with a little sweep of the hand. + +Somehow I was not pleased to feel that Richard had talked of me to her, +though I liked it that he had talked of her to me. No doubt she saw it, +for I was lamentably transparent. "Do you lead a quiet life, or have you +many friends?" she said, as if she did not know exactly the kind of +life I led, and as if she had not come for the express purpose of +helping me out of it, at the instance of her kindly brother. Then, of +course, I told her all about my dull days, and she pitied me, and said +lightly it must not be, and I must see more of the world, and she, for +her part, must know me better, etc., etc. And then she went away. + +In a few days, I went with Ann Coddle, in a carriage, to return the +visit. The house was small, but in a beautiful, bright street, and the +one window near the door was full of ferns and ivies. I did not get in, +which was a disappointment to me, particularly as I had no printed card, +and realized keenly all the ignominy of leaving one in writing. This was +in April, and I saw no more of my new friend. Richard was away, on some +business of the firm, and the days were very dull indeed. + +In May he came back, and resumed the dinners, and the evenings in the +parlor, though not quite with the frequency of the past winter,--and I +think there was the least shade of constraint in his manner. It was on +one of these May days that he came and took me to the Park. It was a +great occasion; I had never been so happy before in my life. I was in +great doubt about taking Ann Coddle; never having been out of the house +without a person of that description in attendance before. But Ann got +a suspicion of my doubt and settled it, to go--of course. I think +Richard was rather chagrined when she followed us out to get into the +carriage; she was so dried-up and shrewish-looking, and wore such an +Irish bonnet. But she preserved a discreet silence, and looked +steadfastly out of the carriage window, so we soon forgot that she was +there, though she was directly opposite to us. It was Saturday; the day +was fresh and lovely, and there were crowds of people driving in the +Park. Once we left the carriage with Ann Coddle in it, and went to hear +the music. It was while we were sitting for a few moments under the +vines to listen to it, and watch the gay groups of people around us, +that a carriage passed within a dozen feet, and a lady leaned out and +bowed with smiles. + +"Why, see--it is your sister!" I exclaimed, with the vivacity of a +person of a very limited acquaintance. + +"Ah," he said, and raised his hat carelessly. But I saw he was not +pleased; he pushed the end of his moustache into his mouth, and bit it, +as he always did when out of humor, and very soon proposed we should go +back and find the carriage. It was not long, however, before he +recovered from this annoyance, as he had from the unexpected pleasure of +Ann's company; and, I am sure, was as sorry as I when it was time to go +home to dinner. + +He stayed and dined with us; another gentleman had come home with my +uncle, who talked well and amused us very much. I was excited and in +high spirits; altogether, it was a very happy day. + +It was more than a week after this, that the invitation came which +turned the world upside down at once, and made me most extravagantly +happy. It was from Mrs. Hollenbeck, and I was asked to spend part of +June and all of July and August, with them at R----. + +At R---- was their old family home, a place of very little pretension, +but to which they were much attached. When the father died, five years +before, the two sons had bought the place, or rather had taken it as +their share, turning over the more productive property to their sister. + +They had been very reluctant to close the house, and it was decided that +Sophie should go there every summer, and take her servants from the +city; the expenses of the place being borne by the two young men. They +were very well able to do it, as both were successful in business, and +keeping open the old home, with no diminution of the hospitality of +their father's time, was perhaps the greatest pleasure that they had. +It was an arrangement which suited Sophie admirably. It gave her the +opportunity to entertain pleasantly and informally; it was a capital +summer-home for her two boys; it was in the centre of an agreeable +neighborhood; and above all, it gave her yearly-exhausted purse time to +recuperate and swell again before the winter's drain. Of course she +loved the place, too, but not with the simple affection that her two +brothers did. The young men invited their friends there without +restriction, as was to be supposed; and Sophie was a gay and agreeable +hostess. No one could have made the house pleasanter than she did; and +she left nothing undone to gratify her brothers' tastes and wishes, like +a wise and prudent woman as she was. + +I did not know all this then, or my invitation might not have +overwhelmed me with such gratitude to her. I reproached myself for not +having loved her the first time I saw her. + +Three months! Three happy months in the country! I could hardly believe +it possible such a thing had happened to me. I took the note to my uncle +without much fear of his opposition, for he rarely opposed anything that +I had the courage to ask him, except going in the street alone. (I +believe my mother had made a runaway match, and I think he had faith in +inherited traits; his one resolution regarding me must have been, not to +give me a chance.) He read the note carefully, and then looked me over +with more interest than usual, and told me I might go. Afterward he gave +me a roll of bills, and told me to come to him for more money, if I +needed it. + +I was much excited about my clothes. I could not think that anything was +good enough to go to R----; and I am afraid I spent a good deal of my +uncle's money. Ann Coddle and the cook thought that my dresses were +magnificent, and old Peter groaned over the coming of the packages. I +had indeed a wardrobe fit for a young princess, and in very good taste +besides, because I was born with that. An inheritance, no doubt. And my +uncle never complained at all about the bills. I seemed to have become, +in some way, a person of considerable importance in the house. Ann +Coddle no more fretted at me, but waited on me with alacrity. The cook +ceased to bully me, and on the contrary, flattered me outrageously. I +remembered the long years of bullying, and put no faith in her +assurances. I did not know exactly why this change had happened, but +supposed it might be the result of having become a young lady, and being +invited to pay visits. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +KILIAN. + + You are well made--have common sense, + And do not want for impudence. + _Faust_. + + _Tanto buen die val niente. + + Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire_. + + +The packages finally ceased coming and the stiff old bell from being +pulled; but only half an hour before the carriage drove to the door that +was to take me to the boat. Ann Coddle was flying up and down the +stairs, and calling messages over to Peter in a shrill voice. She was +not designed by nature for a lady's maid, and was a very disagreeable +person to have about one's room. She made me even more nervous than I +should otherwise have been. I had never packed a trunk before, or had +one packed, and might have thought it a very simple piece of business if +Ann had not made such a mountain of it; packing every tray half a dozen +times over, and going down-stairs three times about every article that +was to come up from the laundry. + +Happily she was not to go with me any farther than the boat. Richard +was away again on business--had been gone, indeed, since the day after +we had driven in the Park: so I was to be put on board the boat, and +left in charge of Kilian, his younger brother, who had called at my +uncle's office, and made the arrangement with him. I had never seen +Kilian, and the meeting filled me with apprehension; my uncle, however, +sent up one of his clerks in the carriage to take me to the boat, and +put me in charge of this young gentleman. This considerate action on the +part of my uncle seemed to fill up the measure of my surprises. + +When we reached the boat, the clerk, a respectful youth, conducted me to +the upper deck, and then left me with Ann, while he went down about +the baggage. + +With all our precautions, we were rather late, for the last bell was +ringing; Ann was in a fever of impatience, and I was quite uncertain +what to do, the clerk not having returned, and Mr. Kilian Vandermarck +not having yet appeared. Ann was so disagreeable, and so disturbing to +all thinking, that I had more than once to tell her to be quiet. Matters +seemed to have reached a crisis. The man at the gangway was shouting +"all aboard;" the whistle was blowing; the bell was ringing; Ann was +whimpering; when a belated-looking young man with a book and paper under +his arm came up the stairs hurriedly and looked around with anxiety. As +soon as his eye fell on us, he looked relieved, and walked directly up +to me, and called me by name, interrogatively. + +"O yes," I said eagerly, "but do get this woman off the boat or we'll +have to take her with us." "Oh, no danger," he said, "plenty of time," +and he took her toward the stairs, at the head of which she was met by +the clerk, who touched his hat to me, handed the checks to Mr. +Vandermarck, then hurried off with Ann. Mr. Vandermarck returned to me, +but I was so engrossed looking over the side of the boat and watching +for Ann and the clerk, that I took no notice of him. + +At last I saw Ann scramble on the wharf, just before the plank was drawn +in; with a sigh of relief I turned away. + +"I want to apologize for being so late," he said. + +"Why, it is not any matter," I answered, "only I had not the least idea +what to do." + +"You are not used to travelling alone, then, I suppose?" + +"Oh no," nor to travelling any way, for the matter of that, I added to +myself; but not aloud, for I had a great fear that it should be known +how very limited my experience was. + +"You must let me take your shawl and bag, and we will go and get a +comfortable seat," he said in a few moments. We went forward and found +comfortable chairs under an awning, and where there was a fine breeze. +It was a warm afternoon, and the change from the heated and glaring +wharf was delightful. Mr. Vandermarck threw himself back in his chair +with an expression of relief, and took off his straw hat. + +"If you had been in Wall-street since ten o'clock this morning you would +be prepared to enjoy this sail," he said. + +"Is Wall-street so very much more disagreeable than other places? I +think my uncle regrets every moment that he spends away from it." + +"Ah, yes. Mr. Greer may; he has a good deal to make him like it; if I +made as much money as he does every day there, I think it's possible I +might like it too. But it is a different matter with a poor devil like +me: if I get off without being cheated out of all I've got, it is as +much as I can ask." + +"Well, perhaps when he was your age, Uncle Leonard did not ask more than +that." + +"Not he; he began, long before he was as old as I am, to do what I can +never learn to do, Miss d'Esiree--make money with one hand and save it +with the other. Now, I'm ashamed to say, a great deal of money comes +into my pockets, but it never stays there long enough to give me the +feeling that I'm a rich man. One gets into a way of living that's +destruction to all chances of a fortune." + +"But what's the good of a fortune if you don't enjoy it?" I said, +thinking of the dreary house in Varick-street. + +"No good," he said. "It isn't in my nature to be satisfied with the +knowledge that I've got enough to make me happy locked up somewhere in a +safe: I must get it out, and strew it around in sight in the shape of +horses, pictures, nice rooms, and good things to eat, before I can make +up my mind that the money is good for anything. Now as to Richard, he is +just the other way: old head on young shoulders, old pockets in young +breeches (only there ar'nt any holes in them). He's a model of prudence, +is my brother Richard. _Qui garde son diner, il a mieux a souper_. He'll +be a rich man one of these fine days. I look to him to keep me out of +jail. You know Richard very well, I believe?" he said, turning a sudden +look on me, which would have been very disconcerting to an older person, +or one more acquainted with the world. + +"O, very well indeed," I said with great simplicity. "You know he is +such a favorite with my uncle, and he is a great deal at the house." + +"Well he may be a favorite, for he is built exactly on his model; at +seventy, if I am not hung for debt before I reach it, I shall look to +see him just a second Mr. Leonard Greer." + +I made a gesture of dissent. "I don't think he is in the least like +Uncle Leonard, and I don't think he cares at all for money." + +"O, Miss Pauline, don't you believe him if he says he doesn't. I'm his +younger brother, whom he has lectured and been hard on for these +twenty-seven years, and I know more about it than anybody else." + +"Why, is Mr. Richard Vandermarck twenty-seven years old?" I said with +much surprise. + +"Twenty-nine his next birthday, and I am twenty-seven. Why, did he pass +himself off for younger? That's an excellent thing against him." + +"No; he did not pass himself off for anything in the matter of age. It +was only my idea about him. I thought he was not more than twenty-five, +perhaps even younger than that. But then I had nobody but Uncle Leonard +to compare him with, and it isn't strange that I didn't get +quite right." + +"It _is_ something of a step from Mr. Greer to Richard, I must say. Mr. +Greer seems so much the oldest man in the world, and Richard--well, +Richard isn't that, but he is a good deal older than he ought to be. +But do you tell me, Miss Pauline, you havn't any younger fellows than +Richard on your cards? Do they keep you as quiet as all that in +Varick-street?" + +I knew by intuition this was impertinence, and no doubt I looked +annoyed, and Mr. Vandermarck hastened to obliterate the impression by a +very rapid movement upon the scenery, the beauties of the river, and +many things as novel. + +The three hours of our sail passed away pleasantly. Mr. Vandermarck did +not move from his seat; did not even read his paper, though I gave him +an opportunity by turning over the leaves of my "Littel" on the +occurrence of every pause. + +I felt that I knew him quite well before the journey was over, and I +liked him exceedingly, almost as well as Richard. He was rather +handsomer than Richard, not so tall, but more vivacious and more +amusing, much more so. I began to think Richard rather dull when I +contrasted him with his brother. + +When we reached the wharf, Mr. Vandermarck, after disposing of the +baggage, gave his arm to me, and took me to an open wagon which was +waiting for us. He put me in the seat beside him, and took the reins +with a look of pleasure. + +"These are Tom and Jerry, Miss Pauline," he said, "about the +pleasantest members of the family; at least they contribute more to my +pleasure than any other members of it. I squandered about half my income +on them a year or two ago, and have not repented yet; though, indeed, +repentance isn't in my way. I shall hope for the happiness of giving you +many drives with them, if I am permitted." + +"Nothing could make me happier, I am sure." + +"Richard hasn't any horses, though he can afford it much better than I +can. He does his driving, when he is here, with the carriage-horses that +we keep for Sophie--a dull old pair of brutes. He disapproves very much +of Tom and Jerry; but you see it would never do to have two such wise +heads in one family." + +"It would destroy the balance of power in the neighborhood." + +"Decidedly; as it is, we are a first-class power, owing to Sophie's +cleverness and Richard's prudence; my prodigality is just needed to keep +us from overrunning the county and proclaiming an empire at the next +town meeting. How do you like Sophie, Miss d'Estree? I know you haven't +seen much of her--but what you have? Isn't she clever, and isn't she a +pretty woman to be nearly thirty-five?" + +I was feeling very grateful for my invitation, and so I said a great +deal of my admiration for his sister. + +"Everybody likes her," he said, complacently. "I don't know a more +popular person anywhere. She is the life of the neighborhood; people +come to her for everything, if they want to get a new door-mat for the +school-house, or if they want a new man nominated for the legislature. I +think she's awfully bored, sometimes, but she keeps it to herself. But +though the summer is her rest, she always does enough to tire out +anybody else. Now, for instance, she is going to have three young ladies +with her for the next two months (besides yourself, Miss d'Estree), whom +she will have to be amusing all the time, and some friends of mine who +will turn the house inside out. But Sophie never grumbles." + +"Tell me about them all," I said, consuming with a fever of curiosity. + +"O, I forgot you did not know them. Shall I begin with the young +ladies?--(Sam, there's a stone in Jerry's off fore-foot; get down and +look about it--Steady!--there, I knew it)--Excuse me, Miss d'Estree. +Well,--the young ladies. There's one of our cousins, a grand, handsome, +sombre, estimable girl, whom nobody ever flirts with, but whom somebody +will marry. That's Henrietta Palmer. Then there is Charlotte +Benson--not pretty, but stylish and so clever. She carries too many guns +for most men; she is a capital girl in her way. Then there is Mary +Leighton; she is small, blonde, lovely. I do not believe in her +particularly, but we are great friends, and flirt a little, I am told. I +quite wonder how you will like each other. I hope you will tell me your +impressions. No doubt she will be rather your companion, for Henrietta +and Charlotte Benson are desperately intimate, and have a room together. +They are quite romantic and very superior. Pretty Miss Leighton isn't in +their line exactly, and is rather left to her own reflections, I should +think. But she makes up for it when the gentlemen appear; she isn't left +with any time upon her hands, you may be sure. I don't know what it is +about her; she never said a bright thing in her life, and a great, great +many silly ones; but everybody wants to talk to her, and her silly words +are precious to the man to whom she says them. Did you ever meet anybody +like her?" + +"I? oh no. I never met anybody," I said, half-bitterly, beginning to be +afraid of the people whom I so soon should meet; and then I began to +talk about the road, and to inquire how far we had yet to drive, and to +ask to have a shawl about my shoulders. It was not yet seven o'clock, +but the country air was fresh and cool, and the rapid driving made +it cooler. + +"We are almost there; and I hope, Miss d'Estree, that you won't feel as +if you were going among strangers. You will not feel so long, at any +rate. It is too bad Richard isn't here; you know him so much better than +the rest of us. But before he comes back, I am sure you will feel as +much at home as he. But here's the gate." + +There was a drive of perhaps an eighth of a mile from the gate to the +house: the trees and hedge were thick, so that one saw little of the +house from the road. The grounds were well kept; there was a nice lawn, +in front of the house, and some very fine old trees. The house was low +and irregular, but quite picturesque. It fronted the road; the rear +looked toward the river, about quarter of a mile distant, and of which +the view was lovely. + +There was a piazza in front, on which four ladies stood; one of them +came forward, and came down the steps, and met me as I got out of the +carriage. That, of course, was Mrs. Hollenbeck, She welcomed me very +cordially, and led me up the steps of the piazza, where the young ladies +stood. Terrible young ladies! I shook with fear of them. I felt as if I +did not know anything, as if I did not look well, as if my clothes were +hideous. I should not have been afraid of young or old men, nor of old +women; but they were just my age, just my class, just my equals, or +ought to have been, if I had had any other fate than Uncle Leonard and +Varick-street. How they would criticize me! How soon they would find out +I had never been anywhere before! I wished for Richard then with all my +heart. Kilian had already deserted me, and was talking to Miss Leighton, +who had come half-way down the steps to meet him, and who only gave me a +glance and a very pretty smile and nod, when Mrs. Hollenbeck presented +me to them. Miss Benson and Miss Palmer each gave me a hand, and looked +me over horribly; and the tones of their voices, when they spoke to me, +were so constrained and cold, and so different from the tones in which +they addressed each other. I hated them. + +After a few moments of wretchedness, Sophie proposed to take me to my +room. We went up the stairs, which were steep and old-fashioned, with a +landing-place almost like a little room. My room was in a wing of the +house, over the dining-room, and the windows looked out on the river. It +was not large, but was very pretty. The windows were curtained, and the +bed was dainty, and the little mantel was draped, and the ornaments and +pictures were quaint and delightful to my taste. + +Sophie laid the shawls she had been carrying up for me upon the bed, +and said she hoped I would find everything I needed, and would try to +feel entirely at home, and not hesitate to ask for anything that would +make me comfortable. + +Nothing could be kinder, but my affection and gratitude were fast dying +out, and I was quite sure of one thing, namely, that I never should love +Sophie if she spent her life in inviting me to pay her visits. She told +me that tea would be ready in half an hour, and then left me. I sat down +on the bed when she was gone, and wished myself back in Varick-street; +and then cried, to think that I should be homesick for such a dreary +home. But the appetites and affections common to humanity had not been +left out of my heart, though I had been beggared all my life in regard +to most of them. I could have loved a mother so--a sister--I could have +had such happy feelings for a place that I could have felt was home. +What matter, if I could not even remember the smile on my mother's lips; +what matter, if no brother or sister had ever been born to me; if no +house had ever been my rightful home? I was hungry for them all the +same. And these first glimpses of the happy lives of others seemed to +disaffect me more than ever with my own. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MY COMPANIONS. + + "Vous etes belle: ainsi donc la moitie + Du genre humain sera votre ennemie." + + _Voltaire_. + + "Oh, I think the cause + Of much was, they forgot no crowd + Makes up for parents in their shroud." + + _R. Browning_. + + +The servant came to call me down to tea while I was still sitting with +my face in my hands upon the bed. I started up, lit the candles on the +dressing-table, arranged my hair, washed the tears off my face, and +hurried down the stairs. They were waiting for me in the parlor, and no +doubt were quite impatient, as they had already waited for the arrival +of the evening train, and it was nearly eight o'clock. The evening train +had brought Mr. Eugene Whitney, of whom I can only say, that he was a +very insignificant young man indeed. We all moved into the dining-room; +the others took the seats they were accustomed to. Mr. Whitney and I, +being the only new-comers, were advised which seats belonged to us by a +trim young maid-servant, and I, for one, was very glad to get into mine. +Mr. Whitney was my neighbor on one hand, the youngest of the Hollenbeck +boys on the other. These were our seats: + + Kilian, + +Miss Leighton, Miss Henrietta Palmer, + +Miss Benson, Mr. Eugene Whitney, + +Tutor, Myself, + +Boy, Boy, + + Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +The seat opposite me was not filled when we sat down. + +"Where is Mr. Langenau, Charley?" said his mother. + +"I'm sure I don't know, mamma," said Charley, applying himself to +marmalade. + +"Charley doesn't see much of his tutor out of hours, I think," said Miss +Benson. + +"A good deal too much of him in 'em," murmured Charley, between a +spoonful of marmalade and a drink of milk. + +"Benny's the boy that loves his book," said Kilian; "he's the joy of his +tutor's heart, I know," at which there was a general laugh, and Benny, +the younger, looked up with a merry smile. + +The Hollenbeck boys were not fond of study. They were healthy and +pretty; quite the reverse of intellectual; very fair and rosy, without +much resemblance to their mother or her brothers. It was evident the +acquisition of knowledge was far from being the principal pursuit of +their lives, and the tutor was looked upon as the natural enemy of +Charley, at the least. + +"I don't see what you ever got him for, mamma," said Charley. "I'd study +just as much without him." + +"And that wouldn't be pledging yourself to very much, would it, Charley +dear?" + +"Wish he was back in Germany with his ugly books," cried Charley. + +But--hush!--there was a sudden lull, as the tutor entered and took his +place by Charley. He was a well-made man, evidently about thirty. He was +so decidedly a gentleman, in manners and appearance, that even these +spoiled boys treated him respectfully, and the young ladies and +gentlemen at the table were more stiff than offensive in their manner. +But he was so evidently not one of them! + +It is very disagreeable to be among people who know each other very +well, even if they try to know you very well and admit you to their +friendship. But I had no assurance that any one was trying to do this +for _me_, and I am afraid I showed very little inclination to be +admitted to their friendship. I could not talk, and I did not want to be +talked to. I was even afraid of the little boys, and thought all the +time that Charley was watching me and making signs about me to his +brother, when in reality he was only telegraphing about the marmalade. + +In the meantime, without any attention to my feelings, the business of +the tea-table proceeded. Mrs. Hollenbeck poured out tea, and kept the +little boys under a moderate control. Kilian cut up some birds before +him, and tried to persuade the young ladies to eat some, but nobody had +appetite enough but Mr. Whitney and himself. Charlotte Benson, who was +clever and efficient and exceedingly at home, cut up a cake that was +before her, and gave the boys some strawberries, and offered some to me. +Miss Palmer simply looked very handsome, and eat a biscuit or two, and +tried to talk to Mr. Whitney, who seemed to have a good appetite and +very little conversation. Miss Leighton gave herself up to attentions to +Kilian; she was saying silly little things to him in a little low tone +all the time, and offering him different articles before her, and +advising him what he ought to eat; all of which seemed most interesting +and important in dumb-show till you heard what it was all about, and +then you felt ashamed of them. At times, I think, Kilian felt somewhat +ashamed too, and tried to talk a little to the others; but most of the +time he seemed to like it very well, and did not ask anything better +than the excellent woodcock on his plate, and the pretty young woman +by his side. + +"By the way," said Sophie, when the meal was nearly over, "I had a +letter from Richard to-day." + +"Ah!" said Kilian, with a momentary release from his admirer. "And when +is he coming home?" + +I looked up with quick interest, and met Mrs. Hollenbeck's eyes, which +seemed to be always on me. Then I turned mine down the table +uncomfortably, and found Charlotte Benson looking at me too. I did not +know what I had done to be looked at, but wished they would look at +themselves and let me take my tea (or leave it alone) in peace. + +"Not for two weeks yet," said his sister; "not for two whole weeks." + +"How sorry I am," said Charlotte Benson. + +"I think we are all sorry," said Henrietta the tranquil. + +"Miss d'Estree confided to me that she'd be glad to see him," said +Kilian, cutting up another woodcock and looking at his plate. + +"Indeed I shall," I said, with, a little sigh, not thinking so much +about them as feeling most earnestly what a difference his coming would +make, and how sure I should be of having at least one friend when he +got here. + +"He seems to be having a delightful time," said his sister. + +"I am glad to hear that," I said, interested. "Generally he finds it +such a bore. He doesn't seem to like to travel." I was rather startled +at the sound of my own voice and the attention of my audience; but I had +been betrayed into speaking, by my interest in the subject, and my +surprise at hearing he was having such a pleasant time. + +"Ah!" she said, "don't you think he does? At any rate, he seems to be +enjoying this journey, and to be in no hurry to come back. I looked for +him last week." + +Warned by my last experience, I said nothing in answer; and after a +moment Kilian said: + +"Well, if Richard's having a good time, you may be sure he's made some +favorable negotiation, and comes home with good news for the firm. +That's his idea of a good time, you know." + +"Ah!" said Sophie, gently, "that's his brother's idea of his idea. It +isn't mine." + +Charlotte Benson seemed a little nettled at this, and exclaimed, + +"Mrs. Hollenbeck! you are making us all unhappy. You are leading us to +suspect that the stern man of business is unbending. What's the +influence at work? What makes this journey different from other +journeys? Where does he tarry, oh, where?" + +"Nonsense!" said Sophie, with a little laugh. "You cannot say I have +implied anything of the sort. Cannot Richard enjoy a journey without +your censure or suspicion? You must be careful; he does not +fancy teasing." + +"O, I shall not accuse him, you may be sure; that is, if he ever comes. +Do you believe he really ever will?" + +"Not if he thinks you want him," said Kilian, amiably. "He has a great +aversion to being made much of." + +"Yes, a family trait," interrupted Charlotte, at which everybody +laughed, no one more cordially than Miss Leighton. + +"Leave off laughing at my Uncle Richard," said Benny, stoutly, with his +cheeks quite flushed. + +"We have, dear, and are laughing at your Uncle Kilian. You don't object +to that, I'm sure," and Charlotte Benson leaned forward and threw him a +little kiss past the tutor, who wore a silent, abstracted look, in odd +contrast with the animated expressions of the faces all around him. + +Benny did not like the joke at all, and got down from his chair and +walked away without permission. We all followed him, going into the +hall, and from thence to the piazza, as the night was fine. The tutor +walked silently through the group in the hall to a seat where lay his +book and hat, then passed through the doorway and disappeared +from sight. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE TUTOR. + + And now above them pours a wondrous voice, + (Such as Greek reapers heard in Sicily), + With wounding rapture in it, like love's arrows. + + _George Eliot_. + + +The next day, the first of my visit, was a very sultry one, and the rest +of the party thought it was, no doubt, a very dull one. + +Kilian and Mr. Eugene Whitney went away in the early train, not to +return, alas, till the evening of the following day. Miss Leighton was +languid, and yawned incessantly, though she tried to appear interested +in things, and was very attentive to me. Charlotte Benson and Henrietta +laid strong-minded plans for the day, and carried them out faithfully. +First, they played a game of croquet, under umbrellas, for the sun was +blazing on the ground: that was for exercise; then, for mental +discipline, they read history for an hour in the library; and then, for +relaxation, under veils and sunhats, read Ruskin for two hours by +the river. + +I cannot think Henrietta understood Ruskin, but I have no doubt she +thought she did, and tried to share in her friend's enthusiasm. Sophie +had a little headache, and spent much of the morning in her room. The +boys were away with their tutor in the farm-house where they had their +school-room, and the house seemed deserted and delightful. I wandered +about at ease, chose my book, and sat for hours in the boat-house by the +river, not reading Ruskin, nor even my poor little novel, but gazing and +dreaming and wondering. It can be imagined what the country seemed to +me, in beautiful summer weather, after the dreary years I had spent in a +city-street. + +It is quite impossible to describe all that seemed starting into life +within me, all at once--- so many new forces, so much new life. + +My home-sickness had passed away, and I was inclined to be very happy, +particularly in the liberty that seemed to promise. Dinner was very +quiet, and every one seemed dull, even Charlotte Benson, who ordinarily +had life enough for all. The boys were there, but their tutor had gone +away on a long walk and would not be back till evening. "_A la bonne +heure_," cried Madame, with a little yawn; "freedom of the halls, and +deshabille, for one afternoon." + +So we spent the afternoon with our doors open, and with books, or +without books, on the bed. + +Nobody came into my room, except Mrs. Hollenbeck for a few moments, +looking very pretty in a white peignoir, and rather sleepy at the same +time; hoping I was comfortable and had found something to amuse me in +the library. + +It seemed to be thought a great bore to dress, to judge from the +exclamations of ennui which I heard in the hall, as six o'clock +approached, and the young ladies wandered into each other's room and +bewailed the necessity. I think Miss Leighton would have been very glad +to have stayed on the bed, and tried to sleep away the hours that +presented no amusement; but Charlotte Benson laughed at her so cruelly, +that she began to dress at once, and said, she had not intended what she +said, of course. + +I was the first to be ready, and went down to the piazza. The heat of +the day was over and there was a soft, pleasant breeze. We were to have +tea at seven o'clock, and while I sat there, the bell rang. The tutor +came in from under the trees where he had been reading, looking rather +pale after his long walk. + +He bowed slightly as he passed me, and waited at the other end of the +piazza, reading as he stood, till the others came down to the +dining-room. As we were seating ourselves he came in and took his place, +with a bow to me and the others. Mrs. Hollenbeck asked him a little +about his expedition, and paid him a little more attention than usual, +being the only man. + +He had a most fortunate way of saying just the right thing and then +being silent; never speaking unless addressed, and then conveying +exactly the impression he desired. I think he must have appeared in a +more interesting light that usual at this meal, for as we went out from +the dining room Mary Leighton put her arm through mine and whispered +"Poor fellow! How lonely he must be! Let's ask him to go and walk with +us this evening." + +Before I could remonstrate or detach myself from her, she had twisted +herself about, in a peculiarly supple and child-like manner that she +had, and had made the suggestion to him. + +He was immeasurably surprised, no doubt, but he gave no sign of it. +After a silence of two or three instants, during which, I think, he was +occupied in trying to find a way to decline, he assented very sedately. + +Charlotte Benson and her friend, who were behind us, were enraged at +this proceeding. During the week they had all been in the house +together, they had never gone beyond speaking terms with the tutor, and +this they had agreed was the best way to keep things, and it seemed to +be his wish no less than theirs. Here was this saucy girl, in want of +amusement, upsetting all their plans. They shortly declined to go to +walk with us: and so Mary Leighton, Mr. Langenau, and I started alone +toward the river. + +It must be confessed, Miss Leighton was not rewarded for her effort, for +a stiffer and more uncomfortable companion could not be imagined. He +entirely declined to respond to her coquetry, and she very soon found +she must abandon this role; but she was nothing if not coquettish, and +the conversation flagged uncomfortably. Before we reached home she was +quite impatient, and ran up the steps, when we got there, as if it were +a great relief. The tutor raised his hat when he left us at the door, +turned back, and disappeared for the rest of the evening. + +The next morning, coming down-stairs half an hour before breakfast, I +went into the library (a little room at the right of the front door), +for a book I had left there. I threw myself into an easy-chair, and +opened it, when I caught sight of the tutor, reading at the window. I +half started to my feet, and then sank back again in confusion; for what +was there to go away for? + +He rose and bowed, and resumed his seat and his book. + +The room was quite small, and we were very near each other. How I could +possibly have missed seeing him as I entered, now surprised me. I longed +to go away, but did not dare do anything that would seem rude. He +appeared very much engrossed with his book, but I, for my part, could +not read a word, and was only thinking how I could get away. Possibly he +guessed at my embarrassment, for after about ten minutes he arose, and +coming up to the table by which I sat, he took up a card, and placed it +in his book for a mark, and shut it up, then made some remark to me +about the day. + +The color was coming and going in my face. + +He must have felt sorry or curious, for he did not go directly away, and +continued to talk of things that did not require me to answer him. + +I do not know what it was about his voice that was so different from the +ordinary voices of people. There was a quality in it that I had never +heard in any other. But perhaps it was in the ear that listened, as well +as the voice that spoke. And apart from the tones, the words I never +could forget. The most trivial things that he ever said to me, I can +remember to this day. + +I believe that this was not of my imagination, but that others felt it +in some degree as I did. It was this that made him such an invaluable +teacher; he impressed upon those flesh-and-blood boys, in that one +summer, more than they would have learned in whole years from ordinary +persons. It was not very strange, then, that I was smitten with the +strangest interest in all he said and did, and that his words made the +deepest impression on me. + +No doubt it is pleasant to be listened to by one whose face tells you +you are understood; and the tutor was not in a hurry to go away. He had +got up from the window, I know, with the intention of going out of the +room, but he continued standing, looking down at me and talking, for +half an hour at least. + +The soft morning wind came in at the open door and window, with a scent +of rose and honeysuckle: the pretty little room was full of the early +sunshine in which there is no glare: I can see it all now, and I can +hear, as ever, his low voice. + +He talked of the book I held in my hand, of the views on the river, of +the pleasantness of country life. I fancy I did not say much, though I +never am able to remember what I said when talking to him. Whatever I +said was a mere involuntary accord with him. I never recollect to have +felt that I did not agree with and admire every word he uttered. + +How different his manner from last night when he had talked with Mary +Leighton; all the stiffness, the half-concealed repelling tone was +gone. I had not heard him speak to any one, except perhaps once to +Benny, as he spoke now. I was quite sure that he liked me, and that he +did not class me with the others in the house. But when the +breakfast-bell rang, he gave a slight start, and his voice changed; and +such a frown came over his face! He looked at his watch, said something +about the hour, and quickly left the room. I bent my head over my book +and sat still, till I heard them all come down and go into the +breakfast-room. I trusted they would not know he had been talking to me, +and there was little danger, unless they guessed it from my cheeks being +so aflame. + +At breakfast he was more silent than ever, and his brow had not quite +got over that sudden frown. At dinner he was away again, as the +day before. + +The day passed much as yesterday had done. About four o'clock there came +a telegram from Kilian to his sister. He had been delayed, and Mr. +Whitney would wait for him, and they would come the next evening by the +boat. I think Mary Leighton could have cried if she had not been +ashamed. Her pretty blue organdie was on the bed ready to put on. It +went back into the wardrobe very quickly, and she came down to tea in a +gray barege that was a little shabby. + +A rain had come on about six o'clock. At tea the candles were lit, and +the windows closed. Every one looked moped and dull; the evening +promised to be insufferable. Mrs. Hollenbeck saw the necessity of +rousing herself and providing us some amusement. When Mr. Langenau +entered, she met his bow with one of her best smiles: how the change +must have struck him; for she had been very mechanical and polite to him +before. Now she spoke to him with the charming manner that brought every +one to her feet. + +And what was the cause of this sudden kindness? It is very easy for me +to see now, though then I had not a suspicion. Alas! I am afraid that +the cheeks aflame at breakfast-time were the immediate cause of the +change. Mrs. Hollenbeck would not have made so marked a movement for an +evening's entertainment: it seemed to suit her very well that I should +talk to the tutor in the library before breakfast, and she meant to give +me opportunities for talking to him in the parlor too. + +"A dreary evening, is it not?" she began. "What shall we all do? +Charlotte, can't you think of something?" + +Charlotte, who had her own plans for a quiet evening by the lamp with a +new book, of course could not think of anything. + +"Henrietta, at least you shall give us some music, and Mr. Langenau, I +am sure you will be good enough to help us; I will send over to the +school-room for that flute and those piles of music that I've seen upon +a shelf, and you will be charitable enough to play for us." + +"I must beg you will not take that trouble." + +"Oh, Mr. Langenau, that is selfish now." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck did not press the subject then, but made herself +thoroughly delightful during tea, and as we rose from the table renewed +the request in a low tone to Mr. Langenau: and the result was, a little +after eight o'clock he came into the parlor where we sat. A place was +made for him at the table around which we were sitting, and Mrs. +Hollenbeck began the process of putting him at his ease. There was no +need. The tutor was quite as much at ease as any one, and, in a little +while, imperceptibly became the person to whom we were all listening. + +Charlotte Benson at last gave up her book, and took her work-box +instead. We were no longer moping and dull around the table. And bye and +bye Henrietta, much alarmed, was sent to the piano, and her poor little +music certainly sounded very meagre when Mr. Langenau touched the keys. + +I think he consented to play not to appear rude, but with the firm +intention of not being the instrument of our entertainment, and not +being made use of out of his own accepted calling. But happily for us, +he soon forgot all about us, and played on, absorbed in himself and in +his music. We listened breathlessly, the others quite as much engrossed +as I, because they all knew much more of music than I did. Suddenly, +after playing for a long while, he started from the piano, and came back +to the table. He was evidently agitated. Before the others could say a +word of thanks or wonder, I cried, in a fear of the cessation of what +gave me such intense pleasure, + +"Oh, sing something; can't you sing?" + +"Yes, I can sing," he said, looking down at me with those dangerous +eyes. "Will it give you pleasure if I sing for you?" + +He did not wait for an answer, but turned back to the piano. + +He had said "if I sing for you," and I knew that for me he was singing. +I do not know what it was for others, but for me, it was the only true +music that I had ever heard, the only music that I could have begged +might never cease, but flood over all the present and the future, +satisfying every sense. Other voices had roused and thrilled, this +filled me. I asked no more, and could have died with that sound in +my ears. + +"Why, Pauline! child! what is it?" cried Mrs. Hollenbeck, as the music +ceased and Mr. Langenau. again came back to the circle round the table. +Every one looked: I was choking with sobs. + +"Oh, don't, I don't want you to speak to me," I cried, putting away her +hand and darting from the room. I was not ashamed of myself, even when I +was alone in my room. The powerful magic lasted still, through the +silence and darkness, till I was aroused by the voices of the others +coming up to bed. + +Mrs. Hollenbeck knocked at my door with her bedroom candle in her hand, +and, as she stood talking to me, the others strayed in to join her and +to satisfy their curiosity. + +"You are very sensitive to music, are you not?" said Charlotte Benson, +contemplatively. She had tried me on Mompssen, and the "Seven Lamps," +and found me wanting, and now perhaps hoped to find some other point +less faulty. + +"I do not know," I said, honestly. "I seem to have been very sensitive +to-night." + +"But you are not always?" asked Henrietta Palmer. "You do not always cry +when people sing?" + +"Why, no," I said with great contempt. "But I never heard any one sing +like that before." + +"He does sing well," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, thoughtfully. + +"Immense expression and a fine voice," added Charlotte Benson. + +"He has been educated for the stage, you may be sure," said Mary +Leighton, with a little spite. "As Miss d'Estree says, I never heard +anyone sing like that, out of the chorus of an opera." + +"Well, I think," returned Charlotte Benson, "if there were many voices +like that in ordinary choruses, one would be glad to dispense with the +solos and duets." + +"Oh, you would not find his voice so wonderful, if you heard it out of a +parlor. It is very well, but it would not fill a concert hall, much less +an opera house. No; you may be sure he has been educated for some of +those German choruses; you know they are very fine musicians." + +"Well, I don't know that it is anything to us what he was educated for," +said Charlotte Benson, sharply. "He has given us a very delightful +evening, and I, for one, am much obliged to him." + +"_Et moi aussi"_ murmured Henrietta, wreathing her large beautiful arms +about her friend, and the two sauntered away. + +Mary Leighton, in general ill-humor, and still remembering the walk of +the last evening, desired to fire a parting-shot, and exclaimed, as she +went out, "Well, I think it is something to us; I like to have +gentlemen about me." + +"You need not be uneasy," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, a little stiffly. "I +think Mr. Langenau is a gentleman." + +But at this moment his step was heard in the hall below, and there was +an end put to the conversation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MATINAL. + + Last night, when some one spoke his name, + From my swift blood that went and came + A thousand little shafts of flame + Were shivered in my narrow frame. + + _Tennyson_. + + +The next morning was brilliant and cool, the earth and heavens shining +after the rain of the past night. I was dressed long, long before +breakfast: it would be so tiresome to wait in my room till the bell +rang; yet if I went down-stairs, would it not look as if I wanted to see +Mr. Langenau again? I need not go to the library, of course, but I could +scarcely avoid being seen from the library if I went out. But why +suppose that he would be down again so early? It was very improbable, +and so, affectionately deceived, I put on a hat and walking-jacket and +stole down the stairs. I saw by the clock in the lower hall that it was +half an hour earlier than I had come down the morning before; at which I +was secretly chagrined, for now there was no danger, _alias_ hope, of +seeing Mr. Langenau. + +But probably he had forgotten all about the foolish half-hour that had +given me so much to think about. I glanced into the library, which was +empty, and hurried out of the hall-door, secretly disappointed. + +I took the path that led over the hill to the river. It passed through +the garden, under the long arbors of grapevines, over the hill, and +through a grove of maples, ending at the river where the boat-house +stood. The brightness of the morning was not lost on me, and before I +reached the maple-grove I was buoyant and happy. At the entrance of the +grove (which was traversed by several paths, the principal coming up +directly from the river) I came suddenly upon the tutor, walking +rapidly, with a pair of oars over his shoulder. He started, and for a +moment we both stood still and did not speak. I could only think with +confusion of my emotion when he sang. + +"You are always early," he said, with his slight, very slight, foreign +accent, "earlier than yesterday by half an hour," he added, looking at +his watch. My heart gave a great bound of pleasure. Then he had not +forgotten! How he must have seen all this. + +He stood and talked with me for some moments, and then desperately I +made a movement to go on. I do not believe, at least I am not sure, that +at first he had any intention of going with me. But it was not in human +nature to withstand the flattery of such emotion as his presence seemed +always to inspire in me; and then, I have no doubt, he had a certain +pleasure in talking to me outside of that; and then the morning was so +lovely and he had so much of books. + +He proposed to show me a walk I had not taken. There was a little +hesitation in his manner, but he was reassured by my look of pleasure, +and throwing down the oars under a tree, he turned and walked beside me. +No doubt he said to himself, "America! This paradise of girlhood;--there +can be no objection." It was heavenly sweet, that walk--the birds, the +sky, the dewiness and freshness of all nature and all life. It seemed +the unstained beginning of all things to me. + +The woods were wet; we could not go through them, and so we went a +longer way, along the river and back by the road. + +This time he did not do all the talking, but made me talk, and listened +carefully to all I said; and I was so happy, talking was not any effort. + +At last he made some allusion to the music of last night; that he was so +glad to see that I loved music as I did. "But I don't particularly," I +said in confusion, with a great fear of being dishonest, "at least I +never thought I did before, and I am so ignorant. I don't want you to +think I know anything about it, for you would be disappointed." He was +silent, and, I felt sure, because he was already disappointed; in fear +of which I went on to say-- + +"I never heard any one sing like that before; I am very sorry that it +gave any one an impression that I had a knowledge of music, when I +hadn't. I don't care about it generally, except in church, and I can't +understand what made me feel so yesterday." + +"Perhaps it is because you were in the mood for it," he said. "It is +often so, one time music gives us pleasure, another time it does not." + +"That may be so; but your voice, in speaking, even, seems to me +different from any other. It is almost as good as music when you speak; +only the music fills me with such feelings." + +"You must let me sing for you again," he said, rather low, as we walked +slowly on. + +"Ah; if you only will," I answered, with a deep sigh of satisfaction. + +We walked on in silence till we reached the gate: he opened it for me +and then said, "Now I must leave you, and go back for the oars." + +I was secretly glad of this; since the walk had reached its natural +limit and its end must be accepted, it was a relief to approach the +house alone and not be the subject of any observation. + +Breakfast had began: no one seemed to feel much interest in my entrance, +though flaming with red roses and red cheeks. + +They were of the sex that do not notice such things naturally, with much +interest or admiration. They had hardly "shaken off drowsy-hed," and had +no pleasure in anything but their breakfast, and not much in that. + +"How do you manage to get yourself up and dressed at such inhuman +hours?" said Mary Leighton, querulously. + +"You are a reproach to the household, and we will not suffer it," said +Charlotte Benson. + +"I never could understand this thing of getting up before you are +obliged to," added Henrietta plaintively. + +But Sophie seemed well satisfied, particularly when Mr. Langenau came in +and I looked down into my cup of tea, instead of saying good-morning to +him. He did not say very much, though there was a good deal of babble +among the others, principally about his music. + +It was becoming the fashion to be very attentive to him. He was made to +promise to play in the evening; to bring down his books of music for the +benefit of Miss Henrietta, who wanted to practice, Heaven knows what of +his. His advice was asked about styles of playing and modes of +instruction; he was deferred to as an authority. But very little he +seemed to care about it all, I thought. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THREE WEEKS TOO LATE. + + _Qui va a la chasse perd sa place_. + + _De la main a la bouche se perd souvent la soupe_. + + Distance all value enhances! + When a man's busy, why, leisure + Strikes him as wonderful pleasure. + Faith! and at leisure once is he, + Straightway he wants to be busy. + + _R. Browning_. + + +Two weeks more passed: two weeks that seem to me so many years when I +look back upon them. Many more walks, early and late, many evenings of +music, many accidents of meeting. It is all like a dream. At seventeen +it is so easy to dream! It does not take two weeks for a girl to fall in +love and make her whole life different. + +It was Saturday evening, and Richard was expected; Richard and Kilian +and Mr. Eugene Whitney. Ah, Richard was coming just three weeks +too late. + +We were all waiting on the piazza for them, in pretty toilettes and +excellent tempers. It was a lovely evening; the sunset was filling the +sky with splendor, and Charlotte and Henrietta had gone to the corner of +the piazza whence the river could be seen, and were murmuring fragments +of verses to each other. They were not so much absorbed, however, but +that they heard the first sound of the wheels inside the gate, and +hurried back to join us by the steps. + +Mary Leighton looked absolutely lovely. The blue organdie had seen the +day at last, and she was in such a flutter of delight at the coming of +the gentlemen that she could scarcely be recognized as the pale, flimsy +young person who had moped so unblushingly all the week. + +"They are all three there," she exclaimed with suppressed rapture, as +the carriage turned the angle of the road that brought them into sight. +Mrs. Hollenbeck, quite beaming with pleasure, ran down the steps (for +Richard had been away almost two months), and Mary Leighton was at her +side, of course. Charlotte Benson and Henrietta went half-way down the +steps, and I stood on the piazza by the pillar near the door. + +I was a little excited by their coming, too, but not nearly as much so +as I might have been three weeks ago. A subject of much greater interest +occupied my mind that very moment, and related to the chances of the +tutor's getting home in time for tea, from one of those long walks that +were so tiresome. I felt as if I hardly needed Richard now. Still, dear +old Richard! It was very nice to see him once again. + +The gentlemen all sprang out of the carriage, and a Babel of welcomes +and questions and exclamations arose. Richard kissed his sister, and +answered some of her many questions, then shook hands with the young +ladies, but I could see that his eye was searching for me. I can't tell +why, certainly not because I felt at all shy, I had stepped back, a +little behind the pillar and the vines. In an instant he saw me, and +came quickly up the steps, and stood by me and grasped my hand, and +looked exactly as if he meant to kiss me. I hoped that nobody saw his +look, and I drew back, a little frightened. Of course, I know that he +had not the least intention of kissing me, but his look was so eager and +so unusual, + +"It is two months, Pauline," he said; "and are you well?" And though I +only said that I was well and was very glad to see him, I am sure his +sister Sophie thought that it was something more, for she had followed +him up the steps and stood in the doorway looking at us. + +The others came up there, and Kilian, as soon as he could get out of the +meshes of the blue organdie, came to me, and tried to out-devotion +Richard. + +That is the way with men. He had not taken any trouble to get away from +Mary Leighton till Richard came. + +A young woman only needs one lover very much in earnest, to bring about +her several others, not so much, perhaps, in earnest, but very amusing +and instructive. Richard went away very quickly, for I am sure he did +not like that sort of thing. + +It was soon necessary for Mr. Kilian to suspend his devotion and go to +his room to get ready for tea. + +When we all assembled again, at the table, I found that he had placed +himself beside me, next his sister, little Benny having gone to bed. + +"Of course, the head of the table belongs to Richard; I never interfere +there, and as everybody else is placed, this is the only seat that I can +take, following the rose and thorn principle." + +"But that principle is not followed strictly," cried Charlotte Benson, +who sat by Mary Leighton. "Here are two roses and no thorn." + +"Ah! What a strange oversight," he exclaimed, seating himself +nevertheless. "The only way to remedy it will be to put the tutor in +your place, Miss Benson, and you come opposite Miss Pauline. Quick; +before he comes and refuses to move his Teutonic bones an inch." +Charlotte Benson changed her seat and the vacant one was left between +her and Mary Leighton. + +This is the order of our seats, for that and many following happy nights +and days: + + Richard, +Mary Leighton, Henrietta, +The Tutor, Mr. Eugene Whitney, +Charlotte Benson, Myself, +Charley, Kilian, + Sophie. + +Mary Leighton looked furious and could hardly speak a word all through +the meal. It was particularly hard upon her, as the tutor did not come, +and the chair was empty, and a glaring insult to her all the time. + +Kilian had done his part so innocently and so simply that it was hard to +suspect him of any intention to pique her and annoy Richard, but I am +sure he did it with just those two intentions. He was as thorough a +flirt as any woman, and withal very fond of change, and I think my pink +grenadine quite dazzled him as I stood on the piazza. Then came the +brotherly and quite natural desire to outshine Richard and put things +out a little. I liked it all very much, and was charmed to be of so much +consequence, for I saw all this quite plainly. I laughed and talked a +good deal with Kilian; he was delightful to laugh and talk with. Even +Eugene Whitney found me more worth his weak attention than the beautiful +and placid Henrietta. + +The amusement was chiefly at our end of the table. But amidst it, I did +not fail to glance often at the door and wonder, uncomfortably, why the +tutor did not come. + +As we left the table and lingered for a few moments in the hall, Richard +came up to me and said, as he prepared to light his cigar, "Will you not +come out and walk up and down the path here with me while I smoke?" + +I began to make some excuse, for I wanted to do nothing just then but +watch the stairway to see if Mr. Langenau did not come down even then +and go into the dining-room. + +But I reflected how ungracious it would seem to refuse this, when he had +just come home, and I followed him out into the path. + +There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, and the air was sweet +with the flower-beds in the grass along the path we walked. + +The house looked gay and pleasant as we walked up and down before it, +with its many lighted windows, and people with bright dresses moving +about on the piazza. Richard lit his cigar, and said, after a silence +of a few moments, with a sigh, "It is good to be at home again." + +"But you've had a pleasant journey?" + +"No; the most tiresome that I ever made, and this last detention wore my +patience out. It seemed the longest fortnight. I could not bear to think +of you all here, and I away in such a dismal hole." + +"I suppose Uncle Leonard had no pity on you, as long as there was a +penny to be made by staying there." + +"No; I spent a great deal of money in telegraphing to him for orders to +come home, but he would not give up." + +"And how is Uncle Leonard; did you go to Varick-street?" + +"No, indeed; I did not waste any time in town. I only reached there +yesterday." + +"I wonder Uncle Leonard let you off so soon." + +"He growled a good deal, but I did not stay to listen." + +"That's always the best way." + +"And now, Pauline, tell me how you like the place." + +"Like it! Oh, Richard, I think it is a Paradise," and I clasped my hands +in a young sort of ecstacy. + +He was silent, which was a sign that he was satisfied. I went on after +a moment, "I don't wonder that you all love it. I never saw anything +half so beautiful. The dear old house is prettier than any new one that +could be built, and the trees are so grand! And oh, Richard, I think the +garden lying on the hillside there in the beautiful warm sun, with such +royal flowers and fruit, is worth all the grape-houses and +conservatories in the neighborhood. Your sister took us to three or four +of the neighboring places a week or two ago. But I like this a hundred +times the best. I should think you would be sorry every moment that you +have to spend away from it." + +"I hope one of these days to live here altogether," he said in a low +tone. + +It was so difficult for Richard to be unreserved that it is very likely +this was the first time in his life that he had ever expressed this, the +brightest hope he had. + +I could fancy all these few words implied--a wife, children, a happy +home in manhood where he had been a happy child. + +"It belongs to Kilian and me, but it is understood I have the right to +it when I am ready for it." + +"And your sister--it does not belong at all to her?" + +"No, she only keeps house for us. It would make a great change for +Sophie if either of us married. But then I know that it would give her +pleasure, for I am sure that she would not be selfish." + +I was not so sure, but, of course, I did not say so. At this moment, +while Richard smoked and I walked silently beside him, a dark figure +struck directly across the path before us. The apparition was so sudden +that I sprang and screamed, and caught Richard by the arm. + +"I beg your pardon," said the tutor, with a quick look of surprise at me +and then at Richard, and bowing, strode on into the house. + +"That's the German Sophie has taken for the boys, is it?" said Richard, +knitting his brows, and looking after him, with no great approbation. "I +don't half like the idea of his being here: I told Sophie so at +starting. A governess would do as well for two years yet. What kind of a +person does he seem to be?" + +"I don't know--that is--I can't tell exactly. I don't know him well +enough," I answered in confusion, which Richard did not see. + +"No, of course not. You would not be likely to see him except at the +table. But it is awkward having him here,--so much of the week, no man +about; and one never knows anything about these Germans." + +"I thought--your sister said--you knew all about him," I said, in rather +a low voice. + +"As much as one needs to know about a mere teacher. But the person you +have in your house all the time is different." + +"But he is a gentleman," I put in more firmly. + +"I hope he is. He had letters to some friends of ours. But what are +letters? People give them when they're asked for them, and half the time +know nothing of the person for whom they do the favor, besides his name +and general standing. Hardly that, sometimes." Then, as if to put away a +tiresome and unwelcome subject, he began again to talk about the place. + +But I had lost my interest in the subject, and thought only of returning +to the house. + +"Don't," I said, playfully putting out my hand as he took out another +cigar to light. "You have smoked enough to-night. Do you know, you smoke +a great deal more than is good for you." + +"Well, I will not smoke any more to-night if you say so. Only don't go +in the house." + +"Oh, yes, you know we only came out to smoke." + +He stood in front of the path that led to the piazza and said, in an +affectionate, gentle way, "Stay and walk a little longer. I have not +told you half how glad I am that you are here at last." + +"Oh, as for that, you've got a good many weeks to tell me in. Besides, +it's getting chilly," and I gave a little shiver. + +"If you're cold, of course," he said, letting me pass and following me, +and added, with a shade of anxiety, "Why didn't you tell me before? I +never thought of it, and you have no shawl." + +I felt ashamed of myself as I led the way up the piazza steps. + +In the hall, which was quite light, they were all standing, and Mr. +Langenau was in the group. They were petitioning him for music. + +"Oh, he has promised that he will sing," said Sophie; "but remember he +has not had his tea. I have ordered it for you, Mr. Langenau; it will be +ready in a moment." + +Mr. Langenau bowed and turned to go up the stairs. His eye met mine, as +I came into the light, dazzled a little by it. + +He went up the stairs; the others after a few moments, went into the +parlor. I sat down on a sofa beside Mrs. Hollenbeck. Richard was called +away by a person on business. There was a shaded lamp on a bracket above +the sofa where we sat; Mrs. Hollenbeck was reading some letters she had +just received, and I took up the evening paper, reading over and over an +advertisement of books. Presently the servant came to Mrs. Hollenbeck +and said that Mr. Langenau's tea was ready. She was sent up to tell him +so, and in a few moments he came down. When he reached the hall, Sophie +looked up with her most lovely smile. + +"You must be famished, Mr. Langenau; pray go immediately to the +dining-room. I am sorry not to make your tea myself, but I hear Benny +waking and must go to him. Will you mind taking my place, Pauline, and +pouring out tea for Mr. Langenau?" + +I was bending over the paper; my face turned suddenly from red to pale. +I said something inaudible in reply, and got up and went into the +dining-room, followed by the tutor. + +It was several minutes before I looked at him. The servants had not +favored us with much light: there was a branch of wax candles in the +middle of the table. Mr. Langenau's plate was placed just at one side of +the tray, at which I had seated myself. He looked pale, even to his +lips. I began to think of the terrible walks in which he seemed to hunt +himself down, and to wonder what was the motive, though I had often +wondered that before. He took the cup of tea I offered him without +speaking. Neither of us spoke for several minutes, then I said, rather +irresolutely, "I am sure you tire yourself by these long walks." + +"Do you think so? No: they rest me." + +No doubt I felt more coquettish, and had more confidence than usual, +from the successes of that evening, and from the knowledge that Richard +and Kilian and Eugene Whitney, even, were so delighted to talk to me; +otherwise I could never have said what I said then, by a sudden impulse, +and with a half-laughing voice, "Do not go away again so long; it makes +it so dull and tiresome." + +He looked at me and said, "It does not seem to me you miss me very +much." But such a gleam of those dark, dangerous eyes! I looked down, +but my breath came quickly and my face must have shown the agitation +that I felt. + +At this moment Richard, released from his engagement in the library, +came through the hall and stopped at the dining-room door. He paused for +a moment at the door, walked away again, then came back and into the +room, with rather a quicker step than usual. + +"Pauline," he said, and I started visibly, "They seem to be waiting for +you in the parlor for a game of cards." + +His voice indicated anything but satisfaction. I half rose, then sank +back, and said, hesitatingly, "Can I pour you some more tea, Mr. +Langenau?" + +"If it is not troubling you too much," he said in a voice that a +moment's time had hardened into sharpness. + +Oh, the misery of that cup of tea, with Richard looking at me on one +side flushed and angry, and Mr. Langenau on the other, pale and cynical. +My hands shook so that I could not lift the teakettle, and Richard +angrily leaned down and moved it for me. The alcohol in the lamp flamed +up and scorched my arm. + +"Oh Richard, you have burned me," I cried, dropping the cup and wrapping +my handkerchief around my arm. In an instant he was all softness and +kindness, and, I have no doubt, repentance. + +"I am very sorry," he said; "Does it hurt you very much? Come with me, +and I will get Sophie to put something on it." + +But Mr. Langenau did not move or show any interest in my sufferings. I +was half-crying, but I sat still and tried with the other hand to +replace the cup and fill it. Seeing that I did not make much headway, +and that Richard had stepped back, Mr. Langenau said, "Allow me," and +held the cup while I managed to pour the tea into it. He thanked me +stiffly, and without looking at either of them I got up and went out of +the room, Richard following me. + +"Will you wait here while I call Sophie to get something for you?" he +said a little coldly. + +"No, I do not want anything; I wish you would not say anything more +about it; it only hurt me for a moment." + +"Will you go into the parlor, then?" + +"No--yes, that is," I said, and capriciously went, alone, for he did not +follow me. + +I was wanted for cards, but I would not play, and sat down by one of the +windows, a little out of the light. This window opened upon the piazza. +After a little while Richard, walking up and down the piazza, stopped by +it, and said to me: "I hope you won't think it unreasonable in me to +ask, Pauline; but how in the world did you happen to be making tea for +that--that man in there?" + +"I happened to make tea for Mr. Langenau because your sister asked me +to," I said angrily; "you had better speak to her about it." + +"You may be sure I shall," he said, walking away from the window. + +Presently the tutor came in from the hall by the door near the piano, +and sat down by it without being asked, and began to play softly, as if +not to interrupt the game of cards. I could not help thinking in what +good taste this was, since he had promised not to wait for any more +importunities. The game at cards soon languished, for Charlotte Benson +really had an enthusiasm for music, and was not happy till she was at +liberty to give her whole attention to it. As soon as the players were +released, Kilian came over and sat beside me. He rather wearied me, for +I wanted to listen to the music, but he was determined not to see that, +and chattered so that more than once Charlotte Benson turned impatiently +and begged us not to talk. Once Mr. Langenau himself turned and looked +at us, but Kilian only paused, and then went on again. + +Mary Leighton had fled to the piano and was gazing at the keys in a rapt +manner, hoping, no doubt, to rouse Kilian to jealousy of the tutor. + +"Please go away," I said at last, "this is making me seem rude." + +"Do not tell me," he exclaimed, "that you are helping Mary Leighton and +Sophie to spoil this German fellow. I really did not look for it in +you. I--" + +"I can't stay here and be talked to," I said, getting up in despair. + +"Then come on the piazza," he exclaimed, and we were there almost before +I knew what I was doing. + +I suppose every one in the room saw us go out: I was in terror when I +thought what an insult it would seem to Mr. Langenau. We walked about +the piazza for some time; I am afraid Mr. Kilian found me rather dull, +for I could only listen to what was going on inside. At last he was +called away by a man from the stable, who brought some alarming account +of his beloved Tom or Jerry. If I had been his bride at the altar, I am +sure he would have left me; being only a new and very faintly-lighted +flame, he hurried off with scarcely an apology. + +I sat down in a piazza-chair, just outside the window at which we had +been sitting. I looked in at the window, but no one could see me, from +the position of my chair. + +Presently Mr. Langenau left the piano, and Mary Leighton, talking to him +with effusion, walked across the room beside him, and took her seat at +this very window. He did not sit down, but stood before her with his hat +in his hand, as if he only awaited a favorable pause to go away. + +"Ah, where did Pauline go?" she said, glancing around. "But I suppose we +must excuse her, for to-night at least, as he has just come home. I +imagine the engagement was no surprise to you?" + +"Of what engagement do you speak?" he said. + +"Why! Pauline and Richard Vandermarck; you know it is quite a settled +thing. And very good for her, I think. He seems to me just the sort of +man to keep her steady and--well, improve her character, you know. She +seems such a heedless sort of girl. They say her mother ran away and +made some horrid marriage, and, I believe, her uncle has had to keep her +very strict. He is very much pleased, I am told, with marrying her to +Richard, and she herself seems very much in love with him." + +All this time he had stood very still and looked at her, but his face +had changed slowly as she spoke. I knew then that what she had said had +not pleased him. She went on in her babbling, soft voice: + +"His sister Sophie isn't pleased, of course, so there is nothing said +about it here. It _is_ rather hard for her, for the place belongs to +Richard, and besides, Richard has been very generous to her always. And +then to see him marry just such a sort of person--you know--so young--" + +"Yes--so young," said Mr. Langenau, between his teeth, "and of such +charming innocence." + +"Oh, as to that," said Mary Leighton, piqued beyond prudence, "we all +have our own views as to that." + +The largess due the bearer of good news was not by right the meed of +Mary Leighton. He looked at her as if he hated her. + +"Mr. Richard Yandermarck is a fortunate man," he said. "She has rare +beauty, if he has a taste for beauty." + +"Men sometimes tire of that; if indeed she has it. Her coloring is her +strong point, and that may not last forever;" and Mary's voice was no +longer silvery. + +"You think so?" he said. "I think her grace is her strong point, '_la +grace encore plus belle que la beaute_,' and longer-lived beside. Few +women move as she does, making it a pleasure to follow her with the +eyes. And her height and suppleness: at twenty-five she will be regal." + +"Then, Mr. Langenau," she cried, with sudden spitefulness, "you _do_ +admire her very much yourself! Do you know, I thought perhaps you did. +How you must envy Mr. Vandermarck!" + +A slight shrug of the shoulders and a slight low laugh; after which, he +said, "No, I think not. I have not the courage that is necessary." + +"The courage! why, what do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that a man who ventures to love a woman in whom he cannot trust, +has need for courage and for patience; perhaps Mr. Richard Vandermarck +has them both abundantly. For me, I think the pretty Miss Pauline would +be safer as an hour's amusement than as a life's companion." + +The words stabbed, killed me. With an ejaculation that could scarcely +have escaped their ears, I sprang up and ran through the hall and up the +stairs. Before I reached the landing-place, I knew that some one was +behind me. I did not look or pause, but flew on through the hall till I +reached my own door. My own door was just at the foot of the third-floor +stairway. I glanced back, and saw that it was Mr. Langenau who was +behind me. I pushed open my door and went half-way in the room; then +with a vehement and sudden impulse came back into the hall and pulled it +shut again and stood with my hand upon the latch, and waited for him to +pass. In an instant more he was near me, but not as if he saw me; he +could not reach the stairway without passing so near me that he must +touch my dress. I waited till he was so near, and said, "Mr. Langenau." + +He raised his eyes steadily to mine and bowed low. I almost choked for +one instant, and then I found voice and rushed on vehemently. "What she +has told you is false; every word of it is false. I am not engaged to +Richard Vandermarck; I never thought of such a thing till I came here, +and found they talked about it. They ought to be ashamed, and I will go +away to-morrow. And what she said about my mother is a wicked lie as +well, at least in the way she meant it; and I shall hate her all my +life. I have been motherless and lonely always, but God has cared for +me, and I never knew before what evil thoughts and ways there were. I +am not ashamed that I listened, though I didn't mean to stay at first. +I'm glad I heard it all and know what kind of friends I have. And those +last cruel words you said--I never will forgive you, never--never--never +till I die." + +He had put his hand out toward me as if in conciliation, at least I +understood it so. I pushed it passionately away, rushed into my room, +bolted the door, and flung myself upon the bed with a frightful burst of +sobs. I heard his hand upon the latch of the door, and he said my name +several times in a low voice. Then he went slowly up the stairs. And I +think his room must have been directly over mine, for, for hours I heard +some one walking there; indeed, it was the last sound I heard, when, +having cried all my tears and vowed all my vows, I fell asleep and +forgot that I was wretched. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +SUNDAY. + + _La notte e madre di pensieri_. + + Now tell me how you are as to religion? + You are a clear good man--but I rather fear + You have not much of it. + + _Faust_. + + +It was all very well to talk about going away; but the matter looked +very differently by daylight. It was Sunday; and I knew I could not go +away for a day or two, and not even then without making a horrid sort of +stir, for which I had not the courage in cold blood. Besides, I did not +even know that I wanted to go if I could. Varick-street! Hateful, +hateful thought. No, I could not go there. And though (by daylight) I +still detested Mary Leighton, and felt ashamed about Richard, and +remembered all Mr. Langenau's words (sweet as well as bitter), +everything was let down a great many degrees; from the heights of +passion into the plains of commonplace. + +My great excitement had worked its own cure, and I was so dull and weary +that I did not even want to think of what had passed the night before. +If I had a sentiment that retained any strength, it was that of shame +and self-contempt. I could not think of myself in any way that did not +make me blush. When, however, it came to the moment of facing every one, +and going down to breakfast, I began to know I still had some +other feelings. + +I was the last to go down. The bell had rung a very long while before I +left my room. I took my seat at the table without looking at any one, +though, of course, every one looked at me. My confused and rather +general good-morning was returned with much precision by all. Somebody +remarked that I did not look well. Somebody else remarked that was +surely because I went to bed so early; that it never had been known to +agree with any one. Some one else wanted to know why I had gone so +early, and that I had been hunted for in all directions for a dance +which had been a sudden inspiration. + +"But as you had gone away, and the musician could not be found, we had +to give it up," said Charlotte Benson, "and we owe you both a grudge." + +"For my part, I am very sorry," said Mr. Langenau. "I had no thought +that you meant to dance last night, or I should have stayed at the +piano; I hope you will tell me the next time." + +"The next time will be to-morrow evening," said Mary Leighton. "Now, +Mr. Langenau, you will not forget--or--or get excited about anything +and go away?" + +I dared not look at Mr. Langenau's face, but I am sure I should not have +seen anything pleasant if I had. I don't know what he answered, for I +was so confused, I dropped a plate of berries which I was just taking +from Kilian's hand, and made quite an uncomfortable commotion. The +berries were very ripe, and they rolled in many directions on the +table-cloth, and fell on my white dress. + +"Your pretty dress is ruined, I'm afraid," said Kilian, stooping down to +save it. + +"I don't care about that, but I'm very sorry that I've stained the +table-cloth," and I looked at Mrs. Hollenbeck as if I thought that she +would scold me for it. But she quite reassured me. Indeed, I think she +was so pleased with me, that she would not have minded seeing me ruin +all the table-cloths that she had. + +"But it will make you late for church, for you'll have to change your +dress," said Charlotte Benson, practically, glancing at the clock. I was +very thankful for the suggestion, for I thought it would save me from +the misery of trying to eat breakfast, but Kilian made such an outcry +that I found I could not go without more comments than I liked. + +"You have no appetite either," said Mary Leighton. "I am ashamed to eat +as much as I want, for here is Mr. Langenau beside me, who has only +broken a roll in two and drank a cup of coffee." + +"I am not perhaps quite used to your American way of breakfasting," he +returned quickly. + +"But you ate breakfasts when we first came," said the sweet girl gently. + +"Was not the weather cooler then?" he answered, "and I have missed my +walk this morning." + +"Let me give you some more coffee, at any rate," said Sophie, with +affectionate interest. Indeed, I think at that moment she absolutely +loved him. + +In a few minutes I escaped from the table; when I came down from my room +ready for church, I found that they were all just starting. (Richard, I +suppose, would have waited for me.) The church was in the village, and +not ten minutes' walk from the house. Kilian was carrying Mary +Leighton's prayer-book, and was evidently intending to walk with her. + +Richard came up to me and said, "Sophie is waiting to know if you will +let her drive you, or if you will walk." + +I had not yet been obliged to speak to Richard since I had heard what +people said about us, and I felt uncomfortable. + +"Oh, let me drive if there is room," I said, without looking up. Sophie +sat in her little carriage waiting for me. Richard put me in beside her, +and then joined the others, while we drove away. Benny, in his white +Sunday clothes, sat at our feet. + +"I think it is so much better for you to drive," said Mrs. Hollenbeck, +"for the day is warm, and I did not think you looked at all well +this morning." + +"No," I said faintly. And she was so kind, I longed to tell her +everything. It is frightful at seventeen to have no one to tell your +troubles to. + +At the gate Benny was just grumbling about getting out to open it, when +Mr. Langenau appeared, and held it open for us. He was dressed in a +flannel suit which he wore for walking. After he closed the gate, he +came up beside the carriage, as Mrs. Hollenbeck very kindly invited him +to do, by driving slowly. + +"Are you coming with us to church, Mr. Langenau?" asked Benny. + +"To church? No, Benny. I am afraid they would not let me in." + +"Why, yes, they would, if you had your good clothes on," said Benny. + +Mr. Langenau laughed, a little bitterly, and said he doubted, even then. +"I am afraid I haven't got my good conscience on either, Benny." + +"But the minister would never know," said Benny. + +"That's very true; the ministers here don't know much about peoples' +consciences, I should think." + +"Do ministers in any other places know any more?" asked Benny with +interest. + +"Why, yes, Benny, in a good many countries where I've been, they do." + +"You are a Catholic, Mr. Langenau?" asked Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +"I once was; I have no longer any right to say it is my faith," he +answered slowly. + +"What is it to be a Catholic?" inquired Benny, gazing at his tutor's +face with wonder. + +"To be a Catholic, is to be in a safe prison; to have been a Catholic, +is to be alone on a sea big and black with billows, Benny." + +"I think I'd like the prison best," said Benny, who was very much afraid +of the water. + +"Ah, but if you couldn't get back to it, my boy." + +"Well, I think I'd try to get to land somewhere," Benny answered, +stoutly. + +Mr. Langenau laughed, but rather gloomily, and we went on for a few +moments in silence. The road was bordered with trees, and there was a +beautiful shade. The horse was very glad to be permitted to go slow, not +being of an ambitious nature. + +All this time I had been leaning back, holding my parasol very close +over my face. Mr. Langenau happened to be on the side by me: once when +the carriage had leaned suddenly, he had put his hand upon it, and had +touched, without intending it, my arm. + +"I beg your pardon," he had said, and that was all he had said to me; +and I had felt very grateful that Benny had been so inclined to talk. I +trusted that nobody would speak to me, for my voice would never be +steady and even again, I was sure, when he was by to listen to it. + +Now, however, he spoke to me: commonplace words, the same almost that +every one in the house had addressed to me that morning, but how +differently they sounded. + +"I am sorry that you are not well to-day, Miss d'Estree." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck at this moment began to find some fault with Benny's +gloves, and leaning down, talked very obligingly and earnestly with him, +while she fastened the gloves upon his hands. + +Mr. Langenau took the occasion, as it was intended he should take it, +and said rather low, "You will not refuse to see me a few moments this +evening, that I may explain something to you?" + +I think he was disappointed that I did not answer him, only turned away +my head. But I don't know in truth what other answer he had any right to +ask. He did not attempt to speak again, but as we turned into the +village, said, "Good-morning, I must leave you. Good-bye, Benny, since I +have neither clothes nor conscience fit for church." + +Sophie laughed, and said, at least she hoped he would be home for +dinner. He did not promise, but raising his hat struck off into a little +path by the roadside, that led up into the woods. + +"What a pity," said Mrs. Hollenbeck musingly, "that a man of such fine +intellect should have such vague religious faith." + +Mr. Langenau was at home for dinner, but he did not see me at that meal, +for my head ached so, and I felt so weary that when I came up-stairs +after church, it seemed impossible to go down again. I should have been +very glad to make the same excuse serve for the remainder of the day, +but really the rest and a cup of tea had so restored me, that no excuse +remained at six o'clock. + +All families have their little Sunday habits, I have found; the Sunday +rule in this house was, to have tea at half-past six, and to walk by the +river till after the sun had set; then to come home and have sacred +music in the parlor. After tea, accordingly, we took our shawls on our +arms (it still being very warm) and walked down toward the river. + +I kept beside Mrs. Hollenbeck and Benny, where only I felt safe. + +The criticism I had heard had given me such a shock, I did not feel that +I ever could be careful enough of what I said and did. And I vaguely +felt my mother's honor would be vindicated, if I showed myself always a +modest and prudent woman. + +"It was so well that I heard them," I kept saying to myself, but I felt +so much older and so much graver. My silence and constraint were no +doubt differently interpreted. Richard did not come up to me, except to +tell me I had better put my shawl on, as I sat on the steps of the +boat-house, with Benny beside me. The others had walked further on and +were sitting, some of them on the rocks, and some on the boat that had +been drawn up, watching the sun go down. + +"Tell me a story," said Benny, resting his arms on my lap, "a story +about when you were a little girl." + +"Oh, Benny, that wouldn't make a pretty story." + +"Oh, yes, it would: all about your mamma and the house you used to live +in, and the children you used to go to see." + +"Dear Benny! I never lived in but one old, dismal house. I never went +to play with any children. I could not make a story out of that." + +"But your mamma. O yes, I'm sure you could if you tried very hard." + +"Ah, Benny! that's the worst of all. For my mamma has been with God and +the good angels in the sky, ever since I was a little baby, and I have +had a dreary time without her here alone." + +"Then I think you might tell me about God and the good angels," +whispered Benny, getting closer to me. + +I wrapped my arms around him, and leaning my face down upon his yellow +curls, told him a story of God and the good angels in the sky. + +Dear little Benny! I always loved him from that night. He cried over my +story: that I suppose wins everybody's heart: and we went together, +looking at the placid river and the pale blue firmament, very far into +the paradise of faith. My tears dropped upon his upturned face; and when +the stars came out, and we were told it was time to go back to the +house, we went back hand in hand, firm friends for all life from that +Sunday night. + +"There is Mr. Langenau," said Benny; "waiting for you, I should think." + +Mr. Langenau was waiting for me at the piazza steps. He fixed his eyes +on mine as if waiting for my permission to speak again. But I fastened +my eyes upon the ground, and holding Benny tightly by the hand, went on +into the house. + + + +Chapter IX. + +A DANCE. + + It is impossible to love and to be wise. + + _Bacon_. + + Niente piu tosto se secca che lagrime. + + +"This is what we must do about it," said Kilian, as we sat around the +breakfast-table. "If you are still in a humor for the dance to-night, I +will order Tom and Jerry to be brought up at once, and Miss Pauline and +I will go out and deliver all the invitations." + +"Of which there are about five," said Charlotte Benson. "You can spare +Tom and Jerry and send a small boy." + +"But what if I had rather go myself?" he said, "and Miss Pauline needs +the air. Now there are--let me see," and he began to count up the +dancing inhabitants of the neighborhood. + +"Will you write notes or shall we leave a verbal message at each door?" + +"Oh leave a verbal message by all means," said Charlotte Benson, a +little sharply. "It won't be quite _en regle_, as Miss d'Estree doesn't +know the people, but so unconventional and fresh." + +"I do know them," I retorted, much annoyed, "conventionally at least: +for they have all called upon me, though I didn't see them all. But I +shall be very glad if you will take my place." + +"Oh, thank you; I wasn't moving an amendment for that end. We have made +our arrangements for the morning, irrespective of the delivery +of cards." + +"I shall have time to write the notes first, if Sophie would rather have +notes sent," said Henrietta, who wrote a good hand and was very fond of +writing people's notes for them. + +"Oh, thank you, dear; yes, perhaps it would be best, and save Pauline +and Kilian trouble." + +So Henrietta went grandly away to write her little notes: a very large +ship on a very small voyage. + +"And how about your music, Sophie," said Kilian, who was anxious to have +all business matters settled relating to the evening. + +"Well, I suppose you had better go for the music-teacher from the +village; he plays very well for dancing, and it is a mercy to me and to +poor Henrietta, who would have to be pinned to the piano for the +evening, if we didn't have him." + +"As to that, I thought we had a music-teacher of our own: can't your +German be made of any practical account? Or is he only to be looked at +and revered for his great powers?" + +"I didn't engage Mr. Langenau to play for us to dance," said Sophie. + +"Nor to lounge about the parlor every evening either," muttered Kilian, +pushing away his cup of coffee. + +"Now, Mr. Kilian, pray don't let our admiration of the tutor drive you +into any bitterness of feeling," cried Charlotte Benson, who had been +treasuring up a store of little slights from Kilian. "You know he can't +be blamed for it, poor man." + +Kilian was so much annoyed that he did not trust himself to answer, but +rose from the table, and asked me if I would drive with him in half +an hour. + +During the drive, he exclaimed angrily that Charlotte Benson had a +tongue that would drive a man to suicide if he came in hearing of it +daily. "Why, if she were as beautiful as a goddess, I could never love +her. Depend upon it, she'll never get a husband, Miss Pauline." + +"Some men like to be scolded, I have heard," I said. + +"Well then, if you ever stumble upon one that does, just call me and +I'll run and fetch him Charlotte Benson." + +The morning was lovely, and I had much pleasure in the drive, though I +had not gone with any idea of enjoying it. It was very exhilarating to +drive so fast as Kilian always drove; and Kilian himself always amused +me and made me feel at ease. We were very companionable; and though I +could not understand how young ladies could make a hero of him, and +fancy that they loved him, I could quite understand how they should find +him delightful and amusing. + +We delivered our notes, at more than one place, into the hands of those +to whom they were addressed, and had many pleasant talks at the piazza +steps with young ladies whom I had not known before. Then we went to the +village and engaged the music-teacher, stopped at the "store" and left +some orders, and drove to the Post-Office to see if there were letters. + +"Haven't we had a nice morning!" I exclaimed simply, as we drove up to +the gate. + +"Capital," said Kilian. "I'm afraid it's been the best part of the day. +I wish I had any assurance that the German would be half as pleasant. I +beg your pardon, I don't mean your surly Teuton, but the dance that we +propose to-night; I wish it had another name. Confound it! there he is +ahead of us. (I don't mean the dance this time, you see.) I wish he'd +turn back and open the gate for us. Holloa there!" + +Kilian would not have dared call out, if the boys had not been with +their tutor. It was one o'clock, and they were coming from the +farm-house back to dinner. At the call they all turned; Mr. Langenau +stood still, and told Charles to go back and open the gate. + +Kilian frowned; he didn't like to see his nephew ordered to do anything +by this unpleasant German. While we were waiting for the opening of the +gate, the tutor walked on toward the house with Benny. As we passed +them, Benny called out, "Stop, Uncle Kilian, stop, and take me in." +Benny never was denied anything, so we stopped and Mr. Langenau lifted +him up in front of us. He bowed without speaking, and Benny was the +orator of the occasion. + +"You looked as if you were having such a nice time, I thought I'd like +to come." + +"Well, we were," said Kilian, with a laugh, and then we drove on +rapidly. + +At the tea-table Mr. Langenau said to Sophie as he rose to go away: +"Mrs. Hollenbeck, if there is any service I can render you this evening +at the piano, I shall be very glad if you will let me know." + +Mrs. Hollenbeck thanked him with cordiality, but told him of the +provision that had been made. + +"But you will dance, Mr. Langenau," cried Mary Leighton, "we need +dancing-men terribly, you know. Promise me you'll dance." + +"Oh," said Charlotte Benson, "he has promised me." Mr. Langenau bowed +low; he got wonderfully through these awkward situations. As he left the +room Kilian said in a tone loud enough for us, but not for him, to hear, +"The Lowders have a nice young gardener; hadn't we better send to see if +he can't come this evening?" + +"Kilian, that's going a little too far," said Richard in a displeased +manner; "as long as the boys' tutor conducts himself like a gentleman, +he deserves to be treated like a gentleman." + +"Ah, Paterfamilias, thank you. Yes, I'll think of it," and Kilian +proposed that we should leave the table, as we all seemed to have +appeased our appetites and nothing but civil war could come of staying +any longer. + +It was understood we had not much time to dress: but when I came +down-stairs, none of the others had appeared. Richard met me in the +hall: he had been rather stern to me all day, but his manner quite +softened as he stood beside me under the hall-lamp. That was the result +of my lovely white mull, with its mint of Valenciennes. + +"You haven't any flowers," he said. Heavens! who'd have thought he'd +ever have spoken in such a tone again, after the cup of tea I poured out +for the tutor. "Let's go and see if we can't find some in these vases +that are fit, for I suppose the garden's robbed." + +"Yes," I said, following him, quite pleased. For I could not bear to +have him angry with me. I was really fond of him, dear, old Richard; and +I looked so happy that I have no doubt he thought more of it than he +ought. He pulled all the pretty vases in the parlor to pieces: +(Charlotte and Henrietta and his sister had arranged them with such +care!) and made me a bouquet of ferns, and tea-roses, and lovely, lovely +heliotrope. I begged him to stop, but he went on till the flowers were +all arranged and tied together, and no one came down-stairs till the +spoilage was complete. + +All this time Mr. Langenau was in the library--restless, pretending to +read a book. I saw him as we passed the door, but did not look again. +Presently we heard the sound of wheels. + +"There," said Richard, feeling the weight of hospitality upon him, +"Sophie isn't down. How like her!" + +But at the last moment, to save appearances, Sophie came down the +stairs and went into the parlor: indolent, favored Sophie, who always +came out right when things looked most against it. + +In a little while the empty rooms were peopled. Dress improved the young +ladies of the house very much, and the young ladies who came were some +of them quite pretty: The gentlemen seemed to me very tiresome and not +at all good-looking. Richard was quite a king among them, with his +square shoulders, and his tawny moustache, and his blue eyes. + +There were not quite gentlemen enough, and Mrs. Hollenbeck fluttered +into the library to hunt up Mr. Langenau, and he presently came out with +her. He was dressed with more care than usual, and suitably for evening: +he had the _vive_ attentive manner that is such a contrast to most young +men in this country: everybody looked at him and wondered who he was. +The music-teacher was playing vigorously, and so, before the German was +arranged, several impetuous souls flew away in waltzes up and down the +room. The parlor was a very large room. It had originally been two +rooms, but had been thrown into one, as some pillars and a slight arch +testified. The ceiling was rather low, but the many windows which opened +on the piazza, and the unusual size of the room, made it very pretty +for a dance. Mary Leighton and the tutor were dancing; somebody was +talking to me, but I only saw that. + +"How well he dances," I heard some one exclaim. + +I'm afraid it must have been Richard whom I forgot to answer just +before: for I saw him twist his yellow moustache into his mouth and bite +it; a bad sign with him. + +Kilian was to lead with Mary Leighton, and he came up to where we stood, +and said to Richard, "I suppose you have Miss Pauline for your partner?" + +Now I had been very unhappy for some time, dreading the moment, but +there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. So I said, "I hope you +are not counting upon me for dancing? You know I cannot dance!" + +"Not dance!" cried Kilian, in amazement; "why, I never dreamed of that." + +"You don't like it, Pauline?" said Richard, looking at me. + +"Like it!" I said, impatiently. "Why, I don't know how; who did I ever +have to dance with in Varick-street? Ann Coddle or old Peter? And Uncle +Leonard never thought of such a thing as sending me to school." + +"Why didn't you tell me before, and we wouldn't have bothered about +this stupid dance," said Kilian; but I think he didn't mean it, for he +enjoyed dancing very much. + +Richard had to go away, for though he hated it, he was needed, as they +had not gentlemen enough. + +The one or two persons who had been introduced to me, on going to join +the dance, also expressed regret. Even Mrs. Hollenbeck came up, and said +how sorry she was: she had supposed I danced. + +But they all went away, and I was left by one of the furthest windows +with a tiresome old man, who didn't dance either, because his legs +weren't strong enough, and who talked and talked till I asked him not +to; which he didn't seem to like. But to have to talk, with the noise of +the music, and the stir, of the dancing, and the whirl that is always +going on in such a room, is penance. I told him it made my head ache, +and besides I couldn't hear, and so at last he went away, and I was +left alone. + +Sometimes in pauses of the dance Richard came up to me, and sometimes +Kilian; but it had the effect of making me more uncomfortable, for it +made everybody turn and look at me. Bye and bye I stole away and went on +the piazza, and looked in where no one could see me. I could not go away +entirely, for I was fascinated by the dance. I longed so to be dancing, +and had such bitter feelings because I never had been taught. After I +left the room, I could see Richard was uncomfortable; he looked often at +the door, and was not very attentive to his partner. No one else seemed +to miss me. Mr. Langenau talked constantly to Miss Lowder, with whom he +had been dancing, and never looked once toward where I had been sitting. +A long time after, when they had been dancing--hours it seemed to +me--Miss Lowder seemed to feel faint or tired, and Mr. Langenau came out +with her, and took her up-stairs to the dressing-room. + +Ashamed to be seen looking in at the window, I ran into the library and +sat down. There was a student's lamp upon the table, but the room had no +other light. I sat leaning back in a large chair by the table, with my +bouquet in my lap, buttoning and unbuttoning absently my long white +gloves. In a moment I heard Mr. Langenau come down-stairs alone: he had +left Miss Lowder in the dressing-room to rest there: he came directly +toward the library. + +He came half-way in the door, then paused. "May I speak to you?" he said +slowly, fixing his eyes on mine. "I seem to be the only one who is +forbidden, of those who have offended you and of those who have not." + +"No one has said what you have," I said very faintly. + +In an instant he was standing beside me, with one hand resting on the +table. + +"Will you listen to me," he said, bending a little toward me and +speaking in a quick, low voice, "I did say what you have a right to +resent; but I said it in a moment when I was not master of my words. I +had just heard something that made me doubt my senses: and my only +thought was how to save myself, and not to show how I was staggered by +it. I am a proud man, and it is hard to tell you this--but I cannot bear +this coldness from you--and _I ask you to forgive me_" + +His eyes, his voice, had all their unconquerable influence upon me. I +bent over Richard's poor flowers, and pulled them to pieces while I +tried to speak. There was a silence, during which he must have heard the +loud beating of my heart, I think: at last he spoke again in a lower +voice, "Will you not be kind, and say that we are friends once more?" + +I said something that was inaudible to him, and he stooped a little +nearer me to catch it. I made a great effort and commanded my voice and +said, very low? but with an attempt to speak lightly, "You have not made +it any better, but I will forget it." + +He caught my hand for one instant, then let it go as suddenly. And +neither of us could speak. + +There is no position more false and trying than a woman's, when she is +told in this way that a man loves her, and yet has not been told it; +when she must seem not to see what she would be an idiot not to see; +when he can say what he pleases and she must seem to hear only so much. +I did no better and no worse than most women of my years would have +done. At last the silence (which did not seem a silence to me, it was so +full of new and conflicting thoughts,) was broken by the recommencement +of the music in the other room. He had taken a book in his hands and was +turning over its pages restlessly. + +"Why have you not danced?" he said at last, in a voice that still showed +agitation. + +"I have not danced because I can't, because I never have been taught." + +"You? not taught? it seems incredible. But let me teach you. Will you? +Teach you! you would dance by intention. And would love it--madly--as I +did years ago. Come with me, will you?" + +"Oh, no," I said, half frightened, shrinking back, "I am not going to +dance--ever." + +"Perhaps that is as well," he said in a low tone, meeting my eye for an +instant, and telling me by that sudden brilliant gleam from his, that +then he would be spared the pain of ever seeing me dancing with another. + +"But let me teach you something," he said after a moment. "Let me teach +you German--will you?" He sank down in a chair by the table, and leaning +forward, repeated his question eagerly. + +"Oh, yes, I should like it so much--if--." + +"If--if what? If it could be arranged without frightening and +embarrassing you, you mean?" + +"Yes." + +"I wonder if you are not more afraid of being frightened and embarrassed +than of any other earthly trial. There are worse things that come to us, +Miss d'Estree. But I will arrange about the German, and you need have no +terror. How will I arrange? No matter--when Mrs. Hollenbeck asks you to +join a class in German, you will join it, will you not?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"You promise?" + +"Oh, anything." + +"Anything? take care. I may fill up a check for thousands, if you give a +blank." + +"I didn't give a blank; anything about German's what I meant." + +"Ah, that's safer, but not half so generous. And yet you're one who +might be generous, I think." + +"But tell me about the German class." + +"I've nothing to tell you about it," he answered, "only that you've +promised to learn." + +"But where are we to say our lessons, and what books are we to Study?" + +"Would you like to say a lesson now and get one step in advance of all +the others?" + +"O yes! I shall need at least as much grace as that." + +"Then say this after me: 'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH +LEHREN.' Begin. 'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--" + +"'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--but what does it mean?" + +"Oh, that is not important. Learn it first. Can you not trust me? 'ICH +WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH LEHREN.'" + +"'ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN'--ah, you look as if my pronunciation were +not good." + +"I was not thinking of that; you pronounce very well. 'ICH WILL ALLES +LERNEN--'" + +"ICH WILL ALLES LERNEN, WAS SIE MICH LEHREN:--there _now_, tell me +what it means." + +"Not until you learn it; _encore une fois_." + +I said it after him again and again, but when I attempted it alone, I +made invariably some error. + +"Let me write it for you," he said, and pulling a book from his pocket, +tore out a leaf and wrote the sentence on it. "There--keep the paper and +study it, and say it to me in the morning." + +I have the paper still; long years have passed: it is only a crumpled +little yellow fragment; but the world would be poorer and emptier to me +if it were destroyed. + +I had quite mastered the sentence, saying it after him word for word, +and held the slip of paper in my hand, when I heard steps in the hall. I +knew Richard's step very well, and gave a little start. Mr. Langenau +frowned, and his manner changed, as I half rose from my seat, and as +quickly sank back in it again. + +"Is it that you lack courage?" he said, looking at me keenly. + +"I don't know what I lack," I cried, bending down my head to hide my +flushed face; "but I hate to be scolded and have scenes." + +"But who has a right to scold you and to make a scene?" + +"Nobody: only everybody does it all the same." + +"Everybody, I suppose, means Mr. Richard Vandermarck, who is frowning at +you this moment from the hall." + +"And it means you--who are frowning at me this moment from your seat." + +All this time Richard had been standing in the hall; but now he walked +slowly away. I felt sure he had given me up. The people began to come +out of the parlor, and I felt ready to cry with vexation, when I thought +that they would again be talking about me. It was true, I am afraid, +that I lacked courage. + +"You want me to go away?" he said, fixing his eyes intently on me. + +"O yes, if you only would," I said naively. + +He looked so white and angry when he rose, that I sprang up and put out +my hand to stop him, and said hurriedly, "I only meant--that is--I +should think you would understand without my telling you. A woman cannot +bear to have people talk about her, and know who she likes and who she +doesn't. It kills me to have people talk about me. I'm not used to +society--I don't know what is right--but I don't think--I am afraid--I +ought not to have stayed in here and talked to you away from all the +others. It's that that makes me so uncomfortable. That, and Richard too. +For I know he doesn't like to have me pleased with any one. Do not go +away angry with me. I don't see why you do not understand." + +My incoherent little speech had brought him to his senses. + +"I am not going away angry," he said in a low voice, "I will promise not +to speak to you again to-night. Only remember that I have feelings as +well as Mr. Richard Vandermarck." + +In a moment more I was alone. Richard did not come near me, nor seem to +notice me, as he passed through the hall. Presently Mr. Eugene Whitney +came in, and I was very glad to see him. + +"Won't you take me to walk on the piazza?" I asked, for everybody else +was walking there. He was only too happy; and so the evening ended +commonplace enough. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +EVERY DAY FROM SIX TO SEVEN. + + She wanted years to understand + The grief that he did feel. + + _Surrey_. + + Love is not love + That alters where it alteration finds. + + +This was how the German class was formed. + +The next day, as we were leaving the dinner-table, Mr. Langenau paused a +few moments by Sophie, in the hall, and talked with her about the boys. + +"Charley gets on very well with his German," he observed, "but Benny +doesn't make much progress. He is too young to study much, and acquires +chiefly by the ear. If you only had a German maid, or if you could speak +with him yourself, he would make much better progress." + +"Yes, I wish I had more knowledge of the language," she replied; "I read +it very easily, but cannot speak with any fluency." + +"Why will you never speak it with me?" he said. "And if you will permit +me, I shall be very glad to read with you an hour a day. I have much +leisure, and it would be no task to me." + +"I should like it very much, and you are very kind. But it is so hard +to find an hour unoccupied, particularly with so many people in the +house, whom I ought to entertain." + +"That is very true, unless you can make it a source of entertainment to +them. Miss Benson--is she not a German scholar? She might like to +join you." + +Then, I think, the clever Sophie's mind was illuminated, and the tutor's +little scheme was revealed to her clear eye; she embraced it with +effusion. "An admirable idea," she said, "and the others, too, perhaps, +would join us if you would not mind. It would be one hour a day at least +secure from _ennui:_ I shall have great cause to thank you, if we can +arrange it. For these girls get so tired of doing nothing; my mind is +always on the strain to think of an amusement. Charlotte! Come here, I +want to ask you something." + +Charlotte Benson came, and with her came Henrietta. I was sitting on the +sofa between the parlor-doors, and could not help hearing the whole +conversation, as they were standing immediately before me. + +"Mr. Langenau proposes to us to read an hour a day with him in German. +What do you think about it?" + +"Charming," said Charlotte with enthusiasm. "I cannot think of anything +that would give me greater pleasure. Henrietta and I have read in German +together for two winters, and it will be enchanting to continue it with +such a master as Mr. Langenau." + +Henrietta murmured her satisfaction, and then Charlotte rushed into +plans for the course, leaving me in despair, supposing I had been +forgotten. What place I was to find in such advanced society I could not +well imagine. + +Mr. Langenau never turned his head in my direction, and talked with Miss +Benson with so much earnestness about the books into which they were to +plunge, that I could not convince myself that all this was undertaken +solely that he might teach me German. In a little while they seemed to +have settled it all to their satisfaction, and he had turned to go away. +My heart was in my throat. Mrs. Hollenbeck had not forgotten me. She +said something low to Mr. Langenau. + +"Ah, true!" he said. "But does she know anything of German?" Then +turning to me he said, with one of his dazzling sudden glances, "Miss +d'Estree, we are talking of making up a German class; do you understand +the language?" + +"No," I said, meeting his eye for a moment, "I have only taken one +lesson in my life," and then blushed scarlet at my own audacity. + +"Ah," said he, as if quite sorry for the disappointment, "I wish you +were advanced enough to join us." + +Then Charlotte Benson, quite ignoring the interruption, began to ask him +about a book that she wanted very much to find. Mr. Langenau had it in +his room--a most happy accident, and there was a great deal said about +it. I again was left in doubt of my fate. Again Sophie interposed. "We +have forgotten Mary Leighton," she said, gently. + +"Does Miss Leighton know anything of German?" + +"Not a thing," said Henrietta. + +"What does she know anything of, but flirting?" said Charlotte with +asperity, glancing out into the grounds where Kilian was murmuring +softest folly to her under her pongee parasol. + +"Perhaps she'd like to learn," suggested Sophie. "She and Pauline might +begin together; that is, if Mr. Langenau would not think it too much +trouble to give them an occasional suggestion. And you, Charlotte, I am +sure, could help them a great deal." + +Charlotte made no disguise of her disinclination to undertake to help +them. + +Mr. Langenau expressed his willingness so unenthusiastically, that I +think Mrs. Hollenbeck was staggered. I saw her glance anxiously at him, +as if to know what really he might mean. She concluded to interpret +according to the context, however, and went on. + +"But it will be so much better for all to undertake it, if one does. +Suppose they try and see how it will work, either before or after +our lesson." + +"_De tout mon coeur_," said Mr. Langenau, as if, however, his _coeur_ +had very little interest in the matter. + +"Well, about the hour?" said Charlotte, the woman of business; "we +haven't settled that after all our talking." + +There was a great deal more, oh, a great deal more, and then it was +settled that five in the afternoon should be considered the German +hour--subject to alteration as circumstances should arise. + +Mrs. Hollenbeck very discreetly ordered that a beginning should not be +made till the next day but one. "The gentlemen will all be here +to-morrow, and there may be something else going on." I knew very well +she was afraid of Richard, and thought he would not approve her zeal for +our improvement. + +The first lesson was very dull work for me. It was agreed that Mary +Leighton and I should take our lesson after the others, sitting beside +them, however, for the benefit of such crumbs of information as might +fall to us. + +Mr. Langenau took no special notice of me then, and very little that +was flattering when Mary Leighton and I began our lesson proper. Mrs. +Hollenbeck, Charlotte, and Henrietta took up their books and left, when +the infant class was called. I do not think Mr. Langenau took great +pains to make the study of the German tongue of interest to Miss +Leighton. She was unspeakably bored, and never even learned the +alphabet. She was very much unused to mental application, undoubtedly, +and was annoyed at appearing dull. There was but one door open to her; +to vote German a bore, and give up the class. She made her exit by that +door on the occasion of the second lesson, and Mr. Langenau and I were +left to pursue our studies undisturbed. The rendezvous was the piazza in +fine weather, and the library when it was damp or cloudy. The fidelity +with which the senior Germans gathered up their books and left, when +their hour was over, was mainly due to the kind thoughtfulness of Mrs. +Hollenbeck, who was always prompt, and always found some excuse for +carrying away Charlotte and Henrietta with her when she went. + +It can be imagined what those hours were to me, those soft, golden +afternoons. Sometimes we took our books and went out under the trees to +some shaded seats, and sat there till the maid came out to call us in to +tea. Happy, happy hours in dreamland! But what peril to me, and perhaps +to him. It is vain to go over it all: it is enough that of all the happy +days, that hour from six o'clock till tea-time was the happiest: and +that with strange smoothness, day after day passed on without bringing +interruption to it. At six the others went to ride or walk; I was never +called, and did not even wonder at it. + +All this time Richard had been going every day to town and coming back +by the evening train. It was pretty tiresome work, and he looked rather +pale and worn; but I believe he could not stay away. I sometimes felt a +little sorry when I saw how much he was out of spirits, but I was in +such a happy realm myself, it did not depress me long: in truth, I +forgot it when he was not actually before me, and sometimes even then. +"I do not think you are listening to what I say," he said to me one +night as he sat by me in the parlor. I blushed desperately, and tried to +listen better. Ah! how often it happened after that. I blush again to +think how much I pained him, and how silently he bore it all. + +The last days of July were very busy ones in the Wall-street office, and +Richard did not give himself a holiday, till one Saturday, much to be +remembered, the very last day of the month. I recall with penitence, +the impatient feeling that I had when Richard told me he was going to +take the day at home. I felt intuitively that it would spoil it all for +me. After breakfast, we all played croquet, and then I shut myself into +my room with my German books, and selfishly saw no one till dinner. At +dinner I was excited and half frightened, as I always was when Mr. +Langenau and Richard were both present, and both watching me; it was +impossible to please either. + +Something was said about the afternoon, and Richard (who all this time +knew nothing of the German class) said to me, evidently afraid of some +other engagement being entered on, "I hope you will drive with me, +Pauline, at five. I ordered the horses when I was down at the stables; I +think the afternoon is going to be fine." It was rather a public way of +asking one out of so many to go and take a drive; but in truth, Richard +was too honest and straightforward to care who knew what he was in +pursuit of, and too sore at heart and too indifferent an actor to +conceal it if he had desired. But the invitation struck me with such +consternation. At five o'clock! The flower and consummation of the day! +The hour that I had been looking forward to, since seven the day before. +I could not lose it. I would not go to drive. I hated Richard. I hated +going to drive. I grew very brave, and was on the point of saying that +I could not go, when I caught Sophie's eye. She made me a quick sign, +which I dared not disobey. I blushed crimson, and did not lift my eyes +again, but said in a low voice that I would go. Then my heart seemed to +turn to lead, and all the glory and pleasure of the day was gone. It +seemed to me of such vast importance, of such endless duration, this +penance that I was to undergo. O lovers! Foolish, foolish men and women! +I was like a child balked of its holiday; I wanted to cry--I longed to +get away by myself. I did not dare to look at any one. + +Mr. Langenau excused himself, and left the table before the others went +away. As we were leaving the table, Sophie, passing close by me, said +quite low, "I would not say anything about the German class, Pauline. +And it was a great deal better that you should go; you know Richard has +not many holidays." + +"Yes, but you don't give up all your pleasures for him," I thought, but +did not say. + +I went quickly to my room, and saw no one till I came down-stairs at +five o'clock. I had on a veil, for my face was rather flushed, and my +eyes somewhat the worse for crying. Richard was waiting for me at the +foot of the stairs, and accompanied me silently to the wagon, which +stood at the door. As we passed the parlor I could see, on the east +piazza, Mr. Langenau and Charlotte already at their books. Both were so +engrossed that they did not look up as we went through the hall. For +that, Richard, poor fellow! had to suffer. I was too unreasonable to +comprehend that Mr. Langenau's absorbed manner was a covering for his +pique. It was enough torture to have to lose my lesson, without seeing +him engrossed with some one else, whose fate was happier than mine. +Perhaps, after all, he was fascinated by Charlotte Benson. She was +bright, clever, and understood him so well. She admired him so much. She +was, I was sure, half in love with him. (The day before I had concluded +she liked Richard very much.) That was a very disagreeable drive. I +complained of the heat. The sun hurt my eyes. + +"We can go back, if you desire it," said Richard, with a shade of +sternness in his voice, stopping the horses suddenly, after two miles of +what would have been ill-temper if we had been married, but was now +perhaps only petulance. + +"I don't desire it," I said, quite frightened, "but I do wish we could +go a little faster till we get into the shade." + +After that, there was naturally very little pleasure in conversation. I +felt angry with Richard and ashamed of myself. For him, I am afraid his +feelings were very bitter, and his silence the cover of a sore heart. We +had started to take a certain drive; we both wished it over, I suppose, +but both lacked courage to shorten it, or go home before we were +expected. There was a brilliant sunset, but I am sure we did not see it: +then the clouds gathered and the twilight came on, and we were +nearly home. + +"Pauline," said Richard, hoarsely, not looking at me, and insensibly +slackening the hold he had upon the reins; "will you let me say +something to you? I want to give you some advice, if you will listen +to me." + +"I don't want anybody to advise me," I said in alarm, "and I don't know +what right you have to expect me to listen to you, Richard, unless it is +that I am your guest; and I shouldn't think that was any reason why I +should be made to listen to what isn't pleasant to me." + +The horses started forward, from the sudden emphasis of Richard's pull +upon the reins; and that was all the answer that I had to my most +unjustifiable words. Not a syllable was spoken after that; and in a few +moments we were at the house. Richard silently handed me out; if I had +been thinking about him I should have been frightened at the expression +of his face, but I was not: I was only thinking--that we were at home, +and that I was going to have the happiness of meeting Mr. Langenau. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +SOPHIE'S WORK. + + A nature half transformed, with qualities + That oft betrayed each other, elements + Not blent, but struggling, breeding strange effects + Passing the reckoning of his friends or foes. + + _George Eliot_. + + + High minds of native pride and force + Most deeply feel thy pangs, remorse! + Fear for their scourge, mean villains have, + Thou art the torturer of the brave. + + _Scott_. + + +This was what Sophie had done: she had invoked forces that she could not +control, and she felt, as people are apt to feel when they watch their +monster growing into strength, a little frightened and a little sorry. +No doubt it had seemed to her a very small thing, to favor the folly of +a girl of seventeen, fascinated by the voice and manner of a nameless +stranger; it was a folly most manifest, but she had nothing to do with +it, and was not responsible; a very small thing to allow, and to +encourage what, doubtless, she flattered herself, her discouragement +could not have subdued. It was very natural that she should not wish +Richard to many any one; she was not more selfish than most sisters are. +Most sisters do not like to give their brothers up. She would have to +give up her home (one of her homes, that is,) as well. She did not think +Richard's choice a wise one: she was not subject to the fascination of +outline and coloring that had subjugated him, and she felt sincerely +that she was the best judge. If Richard must marry (though in thinking +of her own married life, she could not help wondering why he must), let +him marry a woman who had fortune, or position, or talent. Of course +there was a chance that this one might have money, but that would be +according to the caprice of a selfish old man, who had never been known +to show any affection for her. + +But money was not what Richard wanted: his sister knew much better what +Richard wanted, than he knew himself. He wanted a clever woman, a woman +who would keep him before the world and rouse him into a little ambition +about what people thought of him. Sophie was disappointed and a little +frightened when she found that Richard did not give up the outline and +coloring pleasantly. She had thought he would be disillusionized, when +he found he was thrown over for a German tutor, who could sing. She had +not counted upon seeing him look ill and worn, and finding him stern and +silent to her; to her, of whom he had always been so fond. She found he +was taking the matter very seriously, and she almost wished that she had +not meddled with the matter. + +And this German tutor--who could sing--well, it was strange, but he was +the worst feature of her Frankenstein, and the one at which she felt +most sorry and most frightened. Richard was very bad, to be sure, but he +would no doubt get over it: and if it all came out well, she would be +the gainer. As to "this girl for whom his heart was sick," she had no +manner of patience with her or pity for her. + +"She must suffer: so do all;" she would undoubtedly have a hard future, +no matter to which of these men who were so absurd about her, Fate +finally accorded her: hard, if she married Richard without loving him +(nobody knew better than Sophie how hard that sort of marriage was); +hard, if she married the German, to suffer a lifetime of poverty and +ill-temper and jealous fury. But about all that, Sophie did not care a +straw. She knew how much women could live through, and it seemed to be +their business to be wretched. + +But this man! And she could not gain anything by what he suffered, with +his dangerous nature, his ungovernable jealousy, his possibly involved +and unknown antecedents; what was to become of him, in case he could not +have this girl of whom six weeks ago he had not heard? A pretty +candidate to present to "mon oncle" of the Wall-street office, for the +hand of the young lady trusted to their hospitality--a very pretty +candidate--a German tutor--who could sing. If he took her, it was to be +feared he would have to take her without more dowry than some very heavy +imprecations. But could he take her, even thus? Sophie had some very +strange misgivings. This man was desperately unhappy: was suffering +frightfully: it made her heart ache to see the haggard lines deepening +on his face, to see his colorless lips and restless eyes. She was sorry +for him, as a woman is apt to be sorry for a fascinating man. And then +she was frightened, for he was "no carpet knight so trim," to whom +cognac, and cigars, and time would be a balm: this man was essentially +dramatic, a dangerous character, an article with which she was +unfamiliar. He was frantic about this silly girl: that was plain to see. +Why then was he so wretched, seeing she was as irrationally in love +with him? + +"If it only comes out right," she sighed distrustfully many times a day. +She resolved never to interfere with anything again, but it came rather +late, seeing she probably had done the greatest mischief that she ever +would be permitted to have a hand in while she lived. She made up her +mind not to think anything about it, but, unfortunately for that plan, +she could not get out of sight of her work. If she had been a man, she +would probably have gone to the Adirondacks. But being a woman she had +to stay at home, and sit down among the tangled skeins which she had not +skill to straighten. + +"If it only comes out right," she sighed again, the evening of that most +uncomfortable drive, "If it only comes out right." But it did not look +much like it. + +I had gone directly in to tea, and so had Richard. Richard's face +silenced and depressed everybody at the table; and Mr. Langenau did +not come. + +"There is going to be a terrible shower," said some one, and before the +sentence was ended, there was a vivid flash of lightning that made the +candles pale. + +"How rapidly it has come up," said Sophie. "Was the sky black when you +came in, Richard?" + +"I do not know," said Richard, and nobody doubted that he told the +truth. + +"It had begun to darken before we came up from the river." said +Charlotte Benson. "The clouds were rising rapidly as we came in. It +will be a fearful tempest." + +"Are the windows all shut?" said Sophie to the servant. + +"I should think so," exclaimed Kilian. "The heat is horrid." + +"Yes, it is suffocating," said Richard, getting up. + +As he went out of the dining-room, some one, I think Henrietta, said, +"Well, I hope Mr. Langenau will get in safely; he was out on the river +when we were on the hill." + +The storm was so sudden and so furious that everybody was concerned at +hearing this; even Kilian made some exclamation of alarm. + +"Does he know anything about a boat?" he asked of Richard, who had +paused in the doorway, hearing what was said. + +"I have no idea," said Richard, shortly, but he did not go away. + +"It isn't the sail-boat that he has, of course," said Kilian, +thoughtfully. "He always goes out to row, I believe." + +"Why, no," said Charlotte Benson, "he's in the sail-boat; don't you +remember saying, Henrietta, how bright the gleam of the sunset was on +the sail, and all the water was so dark?" + +Kilian came to his feet very suddenly at these words. + +"That's a bad business," he said quickly to his brother. "I've no idea +he can manage her in such a squall." + +Sophie gave a little scream, and Charlotte and Henrietta both grew very +pale, as a frightful shock of thunder followed. The wind was furious, +and the unfastened shutters in various parts of the house sounded like +so many reports of pistols, and in an instant the whole force of the +rain fell suddenly and at once upon the windows. Somewhere some glass +was shattered, and all these sounds added to the sense of danger, and +the darkness was so great and so sudden, that it was difficult to +realize that half an hour before, the sunset could have whitened the +sails of a boat upon the river. + +"I'm afraid it's too late to do much now," said Kilian, stopping in +front of his brother in the doorway. + +"What's the use of talking in that way," returned Richard in a hoarse, +low voice. "If you hav'nt more sense than to talk so before women, you +can stay at home with them," he continued, striding across the hall, and +picking up a lantern that stood in a corner near the door. Charlotte +Benson caught up one of the candles from the table, and ran to him and +lit the lamp within the lantern. Sophie threw a cloak over Kilian's +shoulders, and Henrietta flew to carry a message to the kitchen. Richard +pulled a bell that was a signal to the stable (the stable was very near +the house), and in almost a moment's time two men, beside Kilian, were +following him out into the tempest. We saw their lanterns flicker for an +instant, and then they were swallowed up in the darkness. The fury of +the storm increased every moment. The flashes of lightning were but a +few seconds apart, and the roll of thunder was incessant. Every few +moments, above this continued roar, would come an appalling crash which +sounded just above our heads. The children were screaming with fear, the +servants had come into the hall and seemed in a helpless sort of panic. +Sophie was very pale and Mary Leighton clung hysterically to her. +Charlotte Benson was the only one who seemed to be self-possessed enough +to have done anything, if there had been anything to do. But there was +not. All we could do was to try to behave ourselves with fortitude in +view of the personal danger, and with composure in view of that of +others. Presently there came a lull in the tempest, and we began to +breathe freer; some one went to the door and opened it. A gust of cold +wind swept through the hall and put out the lamp, at which the children +and Mary Leighton renewed their cries of fright. + +The respite in the tempest was but temporary; before the lamp was relit +and order restored, the storm had burst again upon us. This was, if +anything, fiercer, but shorter lived. After fifteen or twenty minutes' +rage, it subsided almost utterly, and we could hear it taking itself off +across the heavens. I suppose the whole storm, from its beginning to its +end, had not occupied more than three quarters of an hour, but it had +seemed much longer. + +We were very glad to open the door and let the cool, damp air into the +hall. The children were taken up-stairs, consoled with the promise that +word should be sent to them when their uncles should return. The +servants went feebly off to their domain; one was sent to sweep the +piazza, for the rain had beaten in such torrents upon it that it was +impossible to walk there, till it should be brushed away. Wrapped in +their shawls, Henrietta and Charlotte Benson walked up and down the +space that the servant swept, and watched and listened for a long +half-hour. I took a cloak from the rack and, leaning against the +door-post, stood and listened silently. + +From the direction of the river there was nothing to be heard. There was +still distant thunder, but that was the only sound, that and the +dripping of the rain off the leaves of the drenched trees. The wind was +almost silent, and in the spaces of the broken clouds there were +occasional faint stars. A fine, young tree, uprooted by the tempest, lay +across the carriage-way before the house, its topmost branches resting +on the steps of the piazza: the grass was strewed with leaves like +autumn, and the paths were simply pools of water. Sophie, more than +once, came to the door, and begged us to come in, for fear of the +dampness and the cold, but no one heeded her suggestion. Even she +herself came out very often, and looked and listened anxiously. Finally +my ear caught a sound: I ran down the steps, and bent forward eagerly. +There was some one coming along the garden-path that led up from the +river. I could hear the water plashing as he walked, and he was coming +rapidly. In a moment the others heard it too, and starting to the steps, +stood still, and waited breathlessly. He had no lantern, for we could +have seen that; he was almost at the steps before I could recognize him. +It was Richard. I gave a smothered cry, and springing forward, held out +my hands to stop him. + +"Tell me what has happened." He put aside my hands, and went past me +without a second look. + +"There has nothing happened, but what he can tell you when he comes," +he said, as he strode past me up the steps, and on into the house. Then +he was alive to tell me: the reaction was a little too strong for me, +and I sat down on the steps to try and recover myself, for I was ill +and giddy. + +In a few moments more, more steps sounded in the distance, this time +slowly, several persons coming together. I started and ran up the steps, +I don't exactly know why, and stood behind the others, who were crowding +down, servants and all, to hear what was the news. Kilian came first, +very drenched, and spattered, and subdued looking, then Mr. Langenau, +leaning upon one of the men, very pale, but making an attempt to smile +and speak reassuringly to Sophie, who met him with looks of great alarm. +It evidently gave him dreadful pain to move, and when he reached the +house he was quite faint. Charlotte Benson placed a chair, into which +they supported him. + +"Run, Pauline, and get some brandy," said Sophie, putting a bunch of +keys into my hand without looking at me. + +When I came back with the glass of brandy, he was conscious again, and +looked at me and took the glass from my hand. The other man had been +sent for the doctor from the village, who was expected every moment, +and Mr. Langenau, who was now revived by stimulants, was quite +reassuring, and attempted to laugh at us for being so much frightened. +Then the young ladies' curiosity got the better of their terror, and +they clamored for the history of the past two hours. This history was +given them principally by Kilian. I cannot repeat it satisfactorily, for +the reason that I don't know anything about jibs, and bowsprits, and +masts, and centre-boards, and I did not understand it at the time; but I +received enough out of the mass of evidence presented in that language, +to be sure that there had been considerable danger, and that everybody +had behaved well. In fact, Kilian's changed manner toward the tutor of +itself was quite enough to show that he had behaved unexpectedly well. + +The unvarnished and unbowspritted and unjib-boomed tale was pretty much +as follows: Mr. Langenau had found himself in the middle of the river, +when the storm came on. I am afraid he could not have been thinking very +much about the clouds, not to have noticed that a storm was rising; +though every one agreed that they had never known anything like the +rapidity of its coming up. Before he knew what he was about, a squall +struck him, and he had great difficulty to right the boat. (Then +followed a good deal about luffing and tacking and keeping her taut to +windward; that is, I think that was where he wanted to keep her.) But +whatever it was, he didn't succeed in doing it, and Kilian vouchsafed to +say nobody could have done it. Then something split: I really cannot say +whether it was the mast, or the bowsprit, or the centre-board, but +whatever it was, it hurt Mr. Langenau so much that for a moment he was +stunned. And then Kilian cannot see why he wasn't drowned. When he came +to himself he was still holding the rudder in his hand. + +The other arm was useless from the falling of--this thing that +split--upon it. And so the boat was floundering about in the gale till +it got righted, and it was Mr. Langenau's presence of mind that saved +him and the boat, for he never let go the rudder, and controlled her as +far as he could, though he did not know where he was going, the +blackness was so great, and the flashes did not show him the shore; and +he was like one placed in the midst of a frightful sea wakened out of a +dream, owing to the blow and the unconsciousness which followed. + +Then Richard came upon the stage as hero; he and one of the men had gone +out in the only boat at hand, a very small one, toward the speck, which, +by the flashes of lightning, he saw out upon the river. It was almost +impossible to overhaul her, and it could not have been done at the rate +she was going, of course; but then occurred that accident which rendered +Mr. Langenau unconscious, and which brought things to a standstill for a +moment. Kalian said we did not know anything about the storm up here at +the house; that more than one tree had been struck within a few feet of +him on the shore. The river was surging; the wind was furious; no one +could imagine what it was who had not witnessed it, and he, for his +part, never expected to see Richard come back to land. But Richard did +come back, and brought back the disabled sail-boat and the injured man. +That was the end of the story; which thrilled us all very much, as we +knew the heroes, and had one of them before us, ghastly pale but +uncomplaining. + +It seemed as if the doctor never would come! We were women, and we +naturally looked to the coming of the doctor as the end of all the +trouble. It was impossible to make the poor fellow comfortable. He could +not lie down, he could not move without excruciating pain, and very +frequently he grew quite faint. Charlotte Benson and Sophie administered +stimulants; endeavored to ease his position with pillows and footstools; +and did all the nameless soothing acts that efficient and good nurses +alone understand; while I, paralyzed and mute, stood aside, scarcely +able to bear the sight of his sufferings. I am sorry to say, I don't +think he cared at all to have me by him. He was in such pain that he +cared only for the attendance of those who could alleviate it in a +measure; and the strong firm hand and the skilled touch were more to him +than the presence of one who had nothing but excited and unavailing +sympathy to offer. It was rather a stern fact walking into my +dreamland, this. + +By and bye Kilian went away to take off his wet clothes, and he did not +come back again, but sent down a message to his sister that he was very +tired and should go to bed, but if he were wanted for anything he could +be called. This was not heroic of Kilian, but, after the manner of men, +he was apt to keep away from the sight of disagreeable things. + +After all, he could not do much good, but it was something to feel there +was a man to call upon, besides Patrick, who was stupid; and I saw +Charlotte Benson's lip curl when Kilian's message was brought down. + +Richard was in his room: we all thought he had done enough for one +night, and had a right to rest. + +At last, after the most weary waiting, wheels were heard, and the doctor +drove up to the door. The servants had begun to look very sleepy. Mary +Leighton had slipped away to her room, and Sophie had told Henrietta +and me to go, for we were really of no earthly use. We did not take her +advice as a compliment, and did not go. Henrietta opened the door for +the doctor, which was doing something though not much, as two of the +maids stood prepared to do it if she did not. + +The doctor was a reassuring, quiet man, and became a pillar of strength +at once. After talking a few moments with Mr. Langenau, and pulling and +twisting him rather ruthlessly, he walked a little away with Sophie, and +told her he wanted him got at once to his room, and he should need the +assistance of one of the gentlemen. Would not Patrick do? Besides +Patrick. Mr. Langenau's shoulder was dislocated, badly, and it must be +set at once. It was a painful operation and he needed help. I was within +hearing of this, and I was in great alarm. Sophie looked so too, and I +don't think she liked disagreeable things any better than her brother, +but she was a woman, and could not shirk them as he could. + +"Pauline," she said, finding me at her side as she turned, "run up and +tell Richard that he must come down, quick. Tell him how it is, and that +he must make haste." + +I ran up the stairs breathlessly, but feeling all the time that it was +rather hard that I must be sent to Richard with this message. Sophie did +not want to ask him to come down herself, and she thought me the most +likely ambassador to bring him, but it was not a congenial embassy. +Perhaps, however, she only asked me because I happened to be nearest +her, and she was rather upset by what the doctor said. + +I knocked at Richard's door. + +"Well?" + +"Oh, they want you to come down-stairs a minute. There's something to be +done," panting and rather incoherent. + +"What is to be done?" + +"The Doctor's here, and he says he must have help." + +"Where's Kilian?" + +"Gone to bed." + +Some suppressed ejaculation, and he pushed back his chair, and rose, and +came across the room: at least it sounded so, and I ran down the stairs +again. He followed me in a moment. The Doctor came forward and talked to +him a little while, and then Richard called Patrick, and told Sophie to +see that Mr. Langenau's room was ready. + +"How can he get up two pairs of stairs," said Charlotte Benson, "when +he cannot move an inch without such suffering?" + +"That's very true," the Doctor said. "I doubt if he could bear it. You +have no room below?" + +"Put a bed in the library," said Charlotte Benson, and in ten minutes it +was done; the servants no longer sleepy when they had any definite order +to fulfill. + +"In the meantime," said Richard to his sister, "send those two to bed," +pointing out Henrietta and me. + +"I've told them to go, but they won't," said Sophie, somewhat sharply. + +Henrietta walked off, rather injured, but I would not go. + +Mr. Langenau had another faint attack, and I was quite certain he would +die. Charlotte was making him breathe _sal volatile_ and Sophie ran to +rub his hands. The Doctor was busy at the light about something. + +"The room is all ready," said the servant. + +"Very well; now Mr. Richard, if you please," the Doctor said. + +"Pauline," said Richard, coming to me as I stood at the foot of the +balusters, "You can't do any good. You'd better go up-stairs." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, "I think you're very cruel; I think you might +let me stay." + +I suppose my wretchedness, and youthfulness, and folly softened him +again, and he said, very gently, "I don't mean to be unkind, but it is +best for you to go. You need not be so frightened: there isn't +any danger." + +I moved slowly to obey him, but turned back and caught his hand and +whispered, "You won't let them hurt him, Richard?" and then ran up the +stairs. No doubt Richard thought I went to my own room; but I spent the +next hour on the landing-place, looking down into the hall. + +It was rather a serious matter, getting Mr. Langenau even into the +library, and it was well they had not attempted his own room. Patrick +was called, and with his assistance and Richard's, he began to move +across the hall. But half-way to the library-door, he fainted dead away, +and Richard carried him and laid him on the bed, Patrick being worse +than useless, having lost his head, and the Doctor being a small man, +and only strong in science. + +Pretty soon the library-door closed, and Sophie and Charlotte were +excluded. They walked about the hall, talking in low tones, and looking +anxious. Later, there came groaning from within the closed door, and +Charlotte Benson wrung her hands and listened. The groans continued for +a long while: the misery of hearing them! After a while they ceased: +then Richard opened the door, hastily, it seemed, and called "Sophie." + +Sophie ran forward, and the door closed again. There was a long silence, +time enough for those who were outside to imagine all manner of horrid +possibilities. Then the Doctor and Richard came out. + +"How is he, Doctor?" said Charlotte Benson, bravely, going to meet them, +while I hung trembling over the landing-place. + +"Oh better, better, very comfortable," said the Doctor, in his calm +professional tone. + +I could not help thinking those groans had not denoted a very high state +of comfort; but maybe the Doctor knew best how people with dislocated +shoulders and broken ribs are apt to express their sentiments of +satisfaction. + +I listened with more than interest to their plans for the night: the +Doctor was going away at once; two of the servants and Patrick were to +relieve each other in sitting by him, while Richard was to throw himself +on the sofa in the hall, to be at hand if anything were needed. + +"Which means, that you are to be awake all night," said Charlotte +Benson. "You have more need of rest than we. Let Sophie and me take +your place." + +Richard looked gratefully and kindly at her, but refused. The Doctor +assured them again that there was no reason for anxiety; that Richard +would probably be undisturbed all night; that he himself would come +early in the morning. Then Richard came toward the stairs, and I escaped +to my own room. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PRAEMONITUS, PRAEMUNITUS. + + The fiend whose lantern lights the mead, + Were better mate than I! + + _Scott_. + + Fools, when they cannot see their way, + At once grow desperate, + Have no resource--have nothing to propose-- + But fix a dull eye of dismay + Upon the final close. + Success to the stout heart, say I, + That sees its fate, and can defy! + + _Faust_. + + +Two weeks later, and things had not stood still; they rarely do, when +there is so much at hand, and ripe for mischief; seventeen does not take +up the practice of wisdom voluntarily. I do not think I was very +different from other girls of seventeen, and I cannot blame myself very +much that I spent all these days in a dream of bliss and folly; how +could it have been otherwise, situated exactly as we were? This is the +way our days were passed. Mr. Langenau was better, but still not able to +leave his room. He was the hero, as a matter of course, and little +besides his sufferings, his condition, and his prospects, was talked of +at the table; which had the effect of making Kilian stay away two nights +out of three, and of alienating Richard altogether. Richard went to town +on Monday morning after the accident occurred, and it was now Friday of +the following week, and he had not come back. + +It was a little dull for Mary Leighton and for Henrietta, perhaps; +possibly for Charlotte Benson, but she did not seem to mind it much; and +I had never found R---- so enchanting as that fortnight. Charlotte +Benson liked to be Florence Nightingale in little, it was very plain; +and naturally nothing made me so happy as to be permitted to minister to +the wants of the (it must be confessed) frequently unreasonable +sufferer. For the first few days, while he was confined to his bed, of +course Charlotte and I were obliged to content ourselves with the +sending of messages, the arranging of bouquets, the concocting of soups +and jellies, and all the other coddling processes at our command. But +when Mr. Langenau was able to sit up, Sophie (at the instance of +Charlotte Benson, for she seemed to have renounced diplomacy herself,) +arranged that the bed should be taken away during the daytime, and +brought back again at night, and that Mr. Langenau should lie on the +sofa through the day. This made it possible for us to be in the room, +even without Sophie, though we began to think her presence necessary. +That scruple was soon done away with, for it laid too great a tax on +her, and restricted our attentions very much. The result was, we passed +nearly the whole day beside him; Mary Leighton and Henrietta very often +of the party, and Sophie occasionally looking in upon us. Sometimes when +Charlotte Benson, as ranking officer, decreed that the patient needed +rest, we took our books and work and went to the piazza, outside the +window of his room. + +He would have been very tired of us, if he had not been very much in +love with one of us. As it was, it must have been a kind of fool's +paradise in which he lived, five pretty women fluttering about him, +offering the prettiest homage, and one of them the woman for whom, +wisely or foolishly, rightly or wrongly, he had conceived so violent +a passion. + +As soon as he was out of pain and began to recover the tone of his +nerves at all, I saw that he wanted me beside him more than ever, and +that Charlotte Benson, with all her skill and cleverness, was as nothing +to him in comparison. No doubt he dissembled this with care; and was +very graceful and very grateful and infinitely interesting. His moods +were very varying, however; sometimes he seemed struggling with the most +unconquerable depression, then we were all so sorry for him; sometimes +he was excited and brilliant; then we were all thrilled with admiration. +And not unfrequently he was irritable and quite morose and sullen. And +then we pitied, and admired, and feared him _a la fois_. I am sure no +man more fitted to command the love and admiration of women ever lived. + +Charlotte Benson with great self-devotion had insisted upon teaching the +children for two hours every day, so that Mr. Langenau might not be +annoyed at the thought that they were losing time, and that Sophie might +not be inconvenienced. It was the least that she could do, she reasoned, +after the many lessons that Mr. Langenau had given us, with so much +kindness, and without accepting a return. Henrietta volunteered for the +service, also, and from eleven to one every day the boys were caught and +caged, and made to drink at the fountain of learning; or rather to +approach that fountain, of which forty Charlottes and Henriettas could +not have made them drink. + +At that time Charlotte always decreed that Mr. Langenau should lie on +the sofa and go to sleep. The windows were darkened, and the room was +cleared of visitors. On this Friday morning, nearly two weeks after the +accident, as I was following Sophie from the room (Charlotte having gone +with Henrietta to capture the children), Mr. Langenau called after me +rather imperiously, "Miss d'Estree--Miss Pauline--" + +It had been a stormy session, and I turned back with misgivings. Sophie +shrugged her shoulders and went away toward the dining-room. + +"What are you going away for, may I ask?" he said, as I appeared before +him humbly. + +"Why, you know you ought to lie down and to rest," I tried to say with +discretion, but it was all one what I said: it would have irritated him +just the same. + +"I am rather tired of this surveillance," he exclaimed. "It is almost +time I should be permitted to express a wish about the disposition of +myself. As I do not happen to want to go to sleep, I beg I may be +allowed the pleasure of your society for a little while." + +"I don't think it would give you much pleasure, and you know you don't +feel as well to-day." + +"Again, may I be permitted to judge how I feel myself?" + +"Oh, yes, of course, but--" + +"But what, Miss d'Estree?--No doubt you want to go yourself--I am sorry +I thought of detaining you (with a gesture of dismissal). I beg you to +excuse me, A sick man is apt to be unreasonable." + +"Oh, as to that, you know entirely well I do not want to go. You are +unreasonable, indeed, when you talk as you do now. I only went away for +your benefit." + +"_Qui s'excuse, s'accuse_." + +"But I am not excusing myself; and if you put it so I will go away at +once." + +"_Si vous voulez_--" + +"But I don't '_voulez_'--Oh, how disagreeable you can be." + +"You will stay?" + +"Pauline!" called Sophie from across the hall. + +"There!" I exclaimed, interpreting it as the voice of conscience. I left +my work-basket and book upon the table, and went out of the room. + +"You called me?" I said, following her into the parlor, where, shutting +the door, she motioned me to a seat beside her. She had a slip of paper +and an envelope in her hand, and seemed a little ill at ease. + +"I've just had a telegram from Richard," she said. "He's coming home +to-night by the eleven o'clock train. It's so odd altogether. I don't +know why he's coming. But you may as well read his message yourself," +she said with a forced manner, handing me the paper. It was as follows: + +Send carriage for me to eleven-thirty train to-night. Remember my +injunctions, our last conversation, and your promises." + +"Well?" I said, looking up, bewildered and not violently interested, for +I was secretly listening to the quick shutting of the library-door. + +"Why, you see," she returned, with a forced air of confidence that made +me involuntarily shrink from her; I think she even laid her hand upon my +sleeve, or made some gesture of familiarity which was unusual-- + +"You see, that last conversation was--about you. Richard is annoyed +at--at your intimacy with Mr. Langenau. You know just as well as I do +how he feels, for no doubt he's spoken to you himself." + +"He never has," I said, quite shortly. + +"No?" and she looked rather chagrined. "Well--but at all events you know +how he feels. Girls ar'nt slow generally to find out about those things. +And he is really very unhappy about it, very. I wish, Pauline, you'd +give it up, child. It's gone quite far enough; now don't you think so +yourself? Mr. Langenau isn't the sort of man to be serious about, you +know. It's all very well, just for a summer's amusement. But, you know, +you mustn't go too far. I'm sure, dear, you're not angry with me: now +you understand just what I mean, don't you?" + +No: not angry, certainly not angry. She went on, still with the +impertinent touch upon my arm: "Richard made me promise that I would +look after you, and not permit things to go too far. And you +see--well--I'll tell you in confidence what I think his coming to-night +means, and his message and all. I think--that is, I am afraid--he's +found out something against Mr. Langenau since he's been away. I know he +never has felt confidence in him. But I've always thought, perhaps that +was because he was--well--a little jealous and suspicious. You know men +are so apt to be suspicious; and I was sure, when he went away that last +Monday morning, that he would not leave a stone unturned in finding out +everything about him. It is that that's kept him, I am sure. Don't let +that make you feel hardly toward Richard," she went on, noticing perhaps +my look; "you know it's only natural, and besides, it's right. How would +he answer to your uncle?" + +"It is I who should answer to my uncle," I returned, under my breath. + +"Yes, but you are in our house, in our care. You know, my dear child, +you are very young and very inexperienced; you don't know how very +careful people have to be." + +"Why don't you talk that way to Charlotte and Henrietta and Mary +Leighton? Have I done anything so very different from them?" I answered, +with a blaze of spirit. + +"No, dear," she said, with a little laugh, "only there are one or two +men very much in love with you, and that makes everything so different." + +I blushed scarlet, and was silenced instantly, as she intended. + +"Now, maybe I am mistaken about his having discovered something," she +went on, "but I can't make anything else out of Richard's message. He is +not one to send off such a despatch without a reason. Evidently he is +very uneasy; and I thought it was best to be perfectly frank with you, +dear, and I know you'll do me the justice to say I have been, if Richard +ever says anything to you about it. You mustn't blame me, you know, for +the way he feels. I wish the whole thing was at an end," she said, with +the first touch of sincerity. "And now promise me one thing," with +another caressing movement of the hand, "Promise me, you won't go into +the library again till Richard comes, and we hear what he has to say. +Just for my sake, you know, my dear, for you see he would blame me if I +did not keep a strict surveillance. You won't mind doing that, I'm +sure, for me?" + +"I shall not promise anything," I returned, getting up, "but I am not +likely to go near the library after what you've said." + +"That's a good child," she said, evidently much relieved, and thinking +that the affair was very near its end. I opened the door, and she added: +"Now go up-stairs, and rest yourself, for you look as if you had a +headache, and don't think of anything that's disagreeable." That was a +good prescription, but I did not take it. + +Of course, I did not go near the library; that was understood. After +dinner, the servant brought in Mr. Langenau's tray untouched, and +Charlotte Benson started up, and ran in to see what was the matter. +Sophie went too, looking a little troubled. I think they were both +snubbed: for ten minutes after, when I met Charlotte in the hall, she +had an unusual flush upon her cheek, and Sophie I found standing at one +of the parlor-windows, biting her lip, and tapping impatiently upon the +carpet. Evidently the affair was not as near its placid end as she had +hoped. She started a little when she saw me, and tried to look +unruffled. + +"How sultry it is this afternoon!" she said. "Are you going up to your +room to take a rest? stop in my room on your way, I want to show you +those embroideries that I was telling Charlotte Benson of last night." + +"I did not hear you, and I do not know anything about them," I said, +feeling not at all affectionate. + +"No? Oh, I forgot: it was while you and Henrietta were sitting in the +library, and Charlotte and I were walking up and down the piazza while +it rained. Why, they are some heavenly sets that I got this spring from +Paris--Marshall picked them up one day at the _Bon Marche_--and verily +they are _bon marche_. I never saw anything so cheap, and I was telling +Charlotte that some of you might just as well have part of them, for I +never could use the half. Come up and look them over." + +Now I loved "heavenly sets" as well as most women, but dress was not the +bait for me at that moment. So I said my head ached and I could not look +at them then, if she'd excuse me; and I went silently away to my room, +not caring at all if she were pleased or not. I disliked and distrusted +her more and more every moment, and she seemed to me so mean: for I knew +all her worry came from the apprehension of what she might have to fear +from Richard, not the thought of the suffering that he or that any one +else endured. + +It was a long afternoon, but it reached its end, after the manner of +all afternoons on record, even those of Marianna. When I came +down-stairs they were all at tea and Kilian had arrived. A more +enlivening atmosphere prevailed, and the invalid was not discussed. A +drive was being canvassed. There was an early moon, and Kilian proposed +driving Tom and Jerry before the open wagon, which would carry four, +through the valley-road, to be back by half-past nine or ten o'clock. + +"But what am I to do," cried Kilian, "when there are five angels, and I +have only room for three?" + +"Why, two will have to stay at home, according to my arithmetic," said +Charlotte, good-naturedly, "and I've no doubt I shall be remainder." + +"If you stay, I shall stay with you," said Henrietta, dropping the +metaphor, for metaphors, even the mildest, were beyond her reach +of mind. + +Everybody wanted to stay, and everybody tried to be quite firm; but as +no one's firmness but mine was based on inclination, the result was that +Sophie and I were "remainder," and Mary Leighton, Charlotte, and +Henrietta drove away with Kilian quite jauntily, at half-past seven +o'clock. But before she went, Charlotte, who was really good-natured +with all her sharpness and self-will, went into the library to speak to +Mr. Langenau, and to show she did not resent the noonday slight, +whatever that had been. But presently she came back looking rather +anxious, and said to Sophie, ignoring me (whom she always did ignore if +possible), + +"Do go and see what you can do for Mr. Langenau. He is really very far +from well. His tea stands there, and he hasn't taken anything to eat. He +looks feverish and excited, and I truly think he ought to see the +Doctor. You know he promised the Doctor to stay in his room, and keep +still all the rest of the week. But I am sure he means to come out +to-morrow, and he even talks of going down to town. It will kill him if +he does; I'm sure he's doing badly, and I wish you'd go and see to him." + +"Does he know Richard is coming up to-night?" asked Sophie, _sotto +voce_, but with affected carelessness. + +"I do not know; oh yes, he does, I mentioned it to him at dinner-time, I +remember now." + +"Well, I'll see if I can do anything for him; now go, they're waiting +for you. Have a pleasant time." + +After they were gone, Sophie went into the library, but she did not stay +very long. She came and sat beside me on the river-balcony, and talked a +little, desultorily and absent-mindedly. + +Presently there was a call for "mamma," a hubbub and a hurry--soon +explained. Charley, who had been running wild for the last two weeks, +without tutor or uncle to control him, had just fallen from the mow, and +hurt himself somewhat, and frightened himself much more. The whole house +was in a ferment. He was taken to mamma's room, for he was a great baby +when anything was the matter with him, and would not let mamma move an +inch away from him. After assisting to the best of my ability in making +him comfortable, and seeing myself only in the way, I went down-stairs +again, and took my seat upon the balcony that overlooked the river. + +The young moon was shining faintly, and the air was soft and balmy. The +house was very still; the servants, I think, were all in a distant part +of the house, or out enjoying the moonlight and the idleness of evening. +Sophie was nailed to Charley's bed up-stairs, trying to soothe him; +Benny was sinking to sleep in his little crib. It seemed like an +enchanted palace, and when I heard a step crossing the parlor, it made +me start with a vague feeling of alarm. The parlor-window by me, which +opened to the floor, was not closed, and in another moment some one came +out and stood beside me. It was Mr. Langenau. I started up and +exclaimed, "Mr. Langenau, how imprudent! Oh, go back at once." + +He seemed weak, and his hand shook as he leaned against the casement, +but his eyes were glittering with a feverish excitement. He did not +answer. I went on: "The Doctor forbade your coming out for several days +yet--and the exertion and the night-air--oh, I beg you to go back." + +"Alone?" he said in a low voice. + +"No, oh no, I will go with you. Anything, only do not stay here a moment +longer; come." And taking his hand (and how burning hot it was!) and +drawing it through my arm, I started toward the hall. He had to lean on +me, for the unusual exertion seemed to have annihilated all his +strength. When we reached the library, I led him to a chair--a large and +low and easy one, and he sank down in it. + +"You are not going away?" he asked, as he gasped for breath, "For there +is something that must be said to-night." + +"No, I will not go," I answered, frightened to see him so, and agitated +by a thousand feelings. "I will light the lamp, and read to you. Let me +move your chair back from the window." + +"No, you must not light the lamp; I like the moonlight better. Bring +your chair and sit here by me--here." He leaned and half-pulled toward +him the companion to the chair on which he sat, a low, soft, easy one. + +I sat down in it, sitting so I nearly faced him. The moon was shining +in at the one wide window: I can remember exactly the pattern that the +vine-leaves made as the moonlight fell through them on the carpet at our +feet. I had a bunch of verbena-leaves fastened in my dress, and I never +smell verbena-leaves at any time or place without seeing before me that +moon-traced pattern and that wide-open window. + +"Pauline," he said, in that low, thrilling voice, leaning a little +toward me, "I have a great deal to say to you to-night. I have a great +wrong to ask pardon for--a great sorrow to tell you of. I shall never +call you Pauline again as I call you to-night. I shall never look into +your eyes again, I shall never touch your hand. For we must part, +Pauline; and this hour, which heaven has given me, is the last that we +shall spend together on the earth." + +I truly thought that his fever had produced delirium, and, trying to +conceal my alarm, I said, with an attempt to quiet him, "Oh, do not say +such things; we shall see each other a great, great many times, I hope, +and have many more hours together." + +"No, Pauline, you do not know so well as I of what I speak. This is no +delirium; would to heaven, it were, and I might wake up from it. No, the +parting must be said to-night, and I must be the one to speak it. We +may spend days, perhaps, under the same roof--we may even sit at the +same table once again; but, I repeat, from this day I may never look +into your eyes again, I may never touch your hand. Pauline, can you +forgive me? I know that you can love. Merciful Heaven! who so well as I, +who have held your stainless heart in my stained hand these many dreamy +weeks; and Justice has not struck me dead. Yes, Pauline, I know you've +loved me; but remember this one thing, in all your bitter thoughts of me +hereafter: remember this, you have not loved me as I have loved you. You +have not given up earth and heaven both for me as I have done for you. +For you? No, not for you, but for the shadow of you, for the thought of +you, for these short weeks of you. And then, an eternity of absence, and +of remorse, and of oblivion--ah, if it might be oblivion for you! If I +could blot out of your life this short, blighting summer; if I could put +you back to where you were that fresh, sweet morning that I walked with +you beside the river! I loved you from that day, Pauline, and I drugged +my conscience, and refused to heed that I was doing you a wrong in +teaching you to love me. Pauline, I have to tell you a sad story: you +will have to go back with me very far; you will have to hear of sins of +which you never dreamed in your dear innocence. I would spare you if I +could, but you must know, for you must forgive me. And when you have +heard, you may cease to love, but I think you will forgive. Listen." + +Why should I repeat that terrible disclosure? why harrow my soul with +going back over that dark path? Let me try to forget that such sins, +such wrongs, such revenges, ever stained a human life. I was so young, +so innocent, so ignorant. It was a strange misfortune that I should have +had to know that which aged and changed me so. But he was right in +saying that I had to know it. My life was bound involuntarily to his by +my love, and what concerned him was my fate. Alas! He was in no other +way bound to me than by my love: nor ever could be. + +I don't know whether I was prepared for it or not: I knew that something +terrible and final was to come, and I felt the awe that attends the +thoughts that words are final and time limited. But when I heard the +fatal truth--that another woman lived to whom he was irrevocably +bound--I heard it as in a dream, and did not move or speak. I think I +felt for a moment as if I were dead, as if I had passed out of the ranks +of the living into the abodes of the silent, and benumbed, and +pulseless. There was such a horrible awe, and chill, and check through +all my young and rapid blood. It was like death by freezing. It is not +so pleasant as they say, believe me. But no pain: that came afterward, +when I came to life, when I felt the touch of his hand on mine, and +ceased to hear his cruel words. + +I had shrunk back from him in my chair, and sat, I suppose, like a +person in a trance, with my hands in my lap, and my eyes fixed on him +with bewilderment. But when he ceased to speak--and, leaning forward on +one knee, clasped my hands in his, and drew me toward him, then indeed I +knew I was not dead. Oh, the agony of those few moments--I tried to +rise, to go away from him. But he held me with such strength--all his +weakness was gone now. He folded his arms around my waist and held me as +in a vise. Then suddenly leaning his head down upon my arms, he kissed +my hands, my arms, my dress, with a moan of bitter anguish. + +"Not mine," he murmured. "Never mine but in my dreams. O wretched +dreams, that drive me mad. Pauline, they will tell us that we must not +dream--we must not weep, we must be stocks and stones. We must wear this +weight of living death till that good Lord that makes such laws shall +send us death in mercy. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years of suffering: +that might almost satisfy Him, one would think. Pauline! you and I are +to say good-bye to-night. Good-bye! People talk of it as a cruel word. +Think of it: if it were but for a year, a year with hope at the end of +it to keep our hearts alive, it would be terrible, and we should need be +brave. The tears that lovers shed over a year apart; the days that have +got to come and go, how weary. The nights--the nights that sleep flies +off from, and that memory reigns over. Count them--over three hundred +come in every year. One, you think while it is passing, is enough to +kill you: one such night of restless torture, and how many shall we +multiply our three hundred by? We are young, Pauline. You are a child, a +very child. I am in the very flush and strength of manhood. There is +half a century of suffering in me yet: this frame, this brain, will +stand the wear of the hard years to come but too, too well. There is no +hope of death. There is no hope in life. That star has set. Good God! +And that makes hell--why should I wait for it--it cannot be worse there +than here. Don't listen to me--it will not be as hard for you--you are +so young--you have no sins to torture you--only a little love to conquer +and forget. You will marry a man who lives for you, and who is patient +and will wait till this is over. Ah, no: by Heaven! I can't quite stand +it yet. Pauline, you never loved him, did you--never blushed for +him--never listened for his coming with your lips apart and your heart +fluttering, as I have seen you listen when you thought that I was +coming? No, I know you never loved him: I know you have loved me +alone--me--who ought to have forbidden you. Forgive--forgive--forgive +me." + +A passion of tears had come to my relief, and I shook from head to foot +with sobs. I cannot feel ashamed when I remember that he held me for one +moment in his arms. He had been to me till that shock, strength, truth, +justice: _the man I loved_. How could I in one instant know him by his +sin alone, and undo all my trust? I knew only this, that it was for the +last time, and that my heart was broken. + +I forgave him--that was an idle form; in my great love I never felt that +there was anything to be forgiven, except the wrong that fate had done +me, in making my love so hopeless. He told me to forget him; that seemed +to me as idle; but all his words were precious, and all my soul was in +his hand. When, at that moment, the sound of wheels upon the gravel +came, and the sound of laughter and of voices, I sprang up; he caught me +in his arms and held me closely. Another moment, the parting was over, +and I was kneeling by my bed up-stairs, weeping, sobbing, hopeless. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME. + + Into my chamber brightly + Came the early sun's good-morrow; + On my restless bed, unsightly, + I sat up in my sorrow. + + _Faust._ + + +It is an amazing thing, the strength and power of pride. Pride, and the +law of self-respect and self-preservation in our being, is the force +that holds us in our course. When we reflect upon it, how few of all the +myriads fly out from it and are lost. That I ate my meals; that I +dressed myself with care; that I took walks and drives: that I did not +avoid my companions, and listened patiently to what they chose to say: +these were the evidences of that centripetal law within that was keeping +me from destruction. It would be difficult to imagine a person more +unhappy. Undisciplined and unfortified by the knowledge that +disappointment is an integral part of all lives, there had suddenly come +upon me a disappointment the most total. It covered everything; there +was not a flicker of hope or palliation. And I had no idea where to go +to make myself another hope, or in what course lay palliation. As we +have prepared ourselves or have been prepared, so is the issue of our +temptations. My great temptation came upon me, foolish, ignorant, +unprepared: the wonder would have been if I had resisted it to my +own credit. + +The days went on as usual at R----, and I must hold my place among the +careless daughters and not let them see my trouble. Careless daughters, +indeed they were, and I shuddered at the thought of their cold eyes: no +doubt their eyes, bright as well as cold, saw that something was amiss +with me; with all my bravery, I could not keep the signs of wretchedness +out of my pale face. But they never knew the story, and they could only +guess at what made me wretched. It is amazing (again) what power there +is in silence, and how much you can keep in your hands if you do not +open them. People may surmise--may invent, but they cannot know your +secret unless you tell it to them, and their imaginings take so many +forms, the multitude of things that they create blot out all definite +design. Thus every one at R---- had a different theory about my loss of +spirits and the relapse of Mr. Langenau, but no one ever knew what +passed that night. + +Richard came. He was closeted with Sophie until after midnight, but I +do not think he told her anything that she desired to know. I think he +only tried to find out from her what had passed (and she did not know +that I had been in the library since she spoke to me). If Mr. Langenau +had been well, I have no doubt that it was his design to have dismissed +him on the following day, no matter at what hazard. How much he knew I +cannot tell, but enough to have warranted him in doing that, perhaps. He +probably would have put it in Mr. Langenau's power to have gone without +any coloring put upon his going that would have affected his standing in +the household. This was his design, no doubt; otherwise he would have +told his sister all. His delicate consideration for me made him guard as +sacred the fact that I had wasted my hope and love so cruelly. + +He was not going away again, I soon found; _qui va a la chasse perd sa +place_. He had lost his place, but he would stay and guard me all the +same; and the chase for gold seemed given up for good and all. + +Kilian was in constant surprise, and made out many catechisms, but he +got little satisfaction. + +Richard was going to have a few weeks' "rest," unless something should +occur to call him back to town. + +He sought no interview with me, was kind and silent, but his eye was +never off me. I think he watched his opportunity for saying what he had +to say to Mr. Langenau, but such an opportunity seemed destined not +to come. + +Mr. Langenau was ill the day after Richard came home--quite ill enough +to cause alarm. He had a high fever, and the Doctor even seemed uneasy, +and prescribed the profoundest quiet. After a day or two, however, he +improved, and all danger seemed averted. + +As soon as he was strong enough, he was to be removed to his own room +above, for the sake of quiet, and to release the household from its +enforced tranquillity. + +All these particulars I heard at table, or from morning groups on the +piazza: with stony cheeks, and eyes that looked unflinchingly into all +curious faces: so works the law of self-defence. + +All but Richard, I am sure, were staggered, but he read with his heart. + +I never blushed now, I never faltered, I never said a word I did not +mean to say. It was a struggle for life: though I did not value the +life, and should have found it hard to say why I did not give up and +let them see that I was killed. + +But I kept wondering how I should sustain myself if I should be called +upon to meet him once again. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +GUARDED. + + Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely, + I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only + Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received. + + _Felix Arvers_. + + Duty to God is duty to her; I think + God, who created her, will save her too + Some new way, by one miracle the more + Without me. Then, prayer may avail, perhaps. + + _R. Browning_. + + +"Mr. Langenau is coming down to-day," said Charlotte Benson in a +stage-whisper, as we took our places at the table, a week after this. "I +met him in the hall about an hour ago, looking like a ghost, and he told +me he was coming down to dinner." + +"_Vraiment_," said Sophie, looking a little disconcerted. "Well, he +shall have Charley's place. Charley isn't coming." + +"I hope he's in a better temper than that last day we saw him," said +Henrietta. + +"Poor fellow!" said Charlotte, "that was the day before the fever began. +It was coming on: that was the reason of it all, no doubt. He looks +ghastly enough now. You'll forgive all, the moment that you see him." + +Charlotte had forgiven him herself, though she had never resumed the +role of Florence Nightingale. Since he had given up the library and +removed to his own room, he had been quite lost to all, and nobody +seemed to have gone near him, not even Sophie, who would have been glad +to forget that he existed, without doubt. + +Richard's eyes were on me as Charlotte said "Hush!" and a step crossed +the hall in the pause that ensued. Kilian, sitting next me, began to +talk to me at that moment, the moment that Mr. Langenau entered the +room. And I think I answered quite coherently: though two sets of words +were going through my brain, the answer to his commonplace question, and +the words that Mr. Langenau had said that night, "Pauline, I shall never +look into your eyes again, I shall never touch your hand." + +It seemed to me an even chance which sentence saw the day; but as the +walls did not fall down about me and no face looked amazement, I found I +must have answered Kilian's question with propriety. + +There were many voices speaking at once; but there was such a ringing in +my ears, I could not distinguish who spoke, or what was said: for a +moment I was lost, if any one had taken advantage of it. But gradually +I regained my senses: one after another they each took up their guard +again: and I looked up. And met his eyes? No; but let mine rest upon his +face. And then I found I had not measured my temptation, and that there +was something to do besides defending myself from others' eyes. For +there was to defend myself from my own heart. The passion of pity and +tenderness that rushed over me as my eyes fell on his haggard face, so +strong and yet so wan, swept away for the moment the defences against +the public gaze. I could have fallen down at his feet before them all +and told him that I loved him. + +A few moments more of the sound of commonplace words, and the repulsion +of every-day faces and expressions, swept me back into the circle of +conventionalities, and brought me under the force of that current that +keeps us from high tragedy. + +All during the meal Mr. Langenau was grave and silent, speaking little +and then with effort. He had overrated his strength, perhaps, for he +went away before the end of the dinner, asking to be excused, in a tone +almost inaudible. After he had gone, a good many commentaries were +offered. Kilian seemed to express the sense of the assembly when he +said: "The man looks shockingly, and he's not out of the woods yet." + +Sophie looked troubled: she had some compunctions for the neglect of the +last few days, perhaps. + +"What does the Doctor say?" pursued her brother. + +"Nothing, I suppose--for he hasn't been here for a week, almost." + +"Well, then, you'd better send for him, if you don't want the fellow to +die on your hands. He's not fit to be out of bed, and you'll have +trouble if you don't look out." + +"As if I hadn't had trouble," returned his sister, almost peevishly. + +"Well, I beg your pardon, Sophie. But I fancied you and Miss Charlotte +were in charge; and I thought about ten days ago, your patient was in a +fair way to be killed with kindness, and it's a little of a surprise to +me to find he's being let alone so very systematically." + +"Why, to tell you the truth," cried Charlotte Benson, "we were turned +out of office without much ceremony, one fine day after dinner. I am +quite willing to be forgiving; but I don't think you can ask me to put +myself in the way of being snubbed again to that extent." + +"The ungrateful varlet! what did he complain of? Hadn't he been coddled +enough to please him? Did he want four or five more women dancing +attendance on him?" + +"Oh, it was not want of attention he complained of. In fact," said +Charlotte, coloring, "It was that he didn't like quite so much, and +wanted to be allowed more liberty." + +Kilian indulged in a good laugh, which wasn't quite fair, considering +Charlotte's candor. + +"But the truth is," said Charlotte, uneasily, "that he was too ill, that +day, to be responsible for what he said. He was just coming down with +the fever, and, you know, people are always most unreasonable then." + +"I'm very glad I never gave him a chance to dispense with me," said Mary +Leighton, with a view to making herself amiable in Kilian's eyes. + +"I think he dispensed with you early in the season," said Charlotte, +sharply. "Oh, hast thou forgotten that walk that he took, upon your +invitation? Ah, Miss Leighton, his look was quite dramatic. I know you +never have forgiven him." + +"I haven't the least idea what you are talking of," returned Mary +Leighton, with bewildered and child-like simplicity. + +"Ah, then it was not as unique an occurrence as I hoped," said +Charlotte, viciously. "I imagined it would make more of an impression." + +"Charlotte," interrupted Sophie, shocked at this open impoliteness, "I +hope you are forgiving enough to break it to him that he's got to see +the Doctor; for if he comes unexpectedly and goes up to his room, he +will be dramatic, and that is so unpleasant, as we know to our sorrow." + +"Indeed, I shan't tell him," cried Charlotte, "you can take your life in +your hand, and try it if you please; but I cannot consent to risk +myself. There's Mary Leighton, she bears no malice. Perhaps she'll go +with you as support." + +"Ha, ha!" cried Kilian. "Richard, you and I may be called on to bring up +the rear. There's the General's old sword in the hall, and I'll take the +Joe Manton from the shelf in the library." + +"Richard looks as if he disapproved of us all very much," said Sophie, +and in truth Richard did look just so. He did not even answer these +suggestions, but began after a moment to talk to Henrietta on +indifferent matters. + +It was on this afternoon that a new policy was inaugurated at R----. We +were taught to feel that we had been quite aggrieved by the dullness of +the past two weeks or more, and that we must be compensated by some +refreshing novelties. + +Richard was at the head of the movement--Richard with his sober cares +and weary look. But the incongruity struck no one; they were too glad to +be amused. Even Sophie brightened up. Charlotte was ready to throw her +energies into any active scheme, hospital or picnic, charity-school or +kettle-drum. + +"To-morrow will be just the sort of day for it," said Richard, "cool and +fine. And half the pleasure of a picnic is not having time to get tired +of it beforehand." + +"That's very true," said Charlotte; "but I don't see how we're going to +get everybody notified and everything in order for nine o'clock +to-morrow morning." + +"Nothing easier," said Kilian; "we'll go, directly after tea, to the De +Witts and Prentices, and send Thomas with a note to the Lowders. Sophie +has done her part in shorter time than that, very often; and I don't +believe we should be starved, if she only gave half an hour's notice to +the cook." + +What is heavier than pleasure-seeking in which one has no pleasure? I +shall never forget the misery of those plans and that bustle. I dared +not absent myself, and I could scarcely carry out my part for very +heavy-heartedness. It seemed to me that I could not bear it, if the hour +came, and I should have to drive away with all that merry party, and +leave poor Mr. Langenau for a long, long day alone. + +I felt sure something would occur to release me: it could not be that I +should have to go. With the exaggeration of youth, it seemed to me an +impossibility that I could endure anything so grievous. How I hated all +the careless, thoughtless, happy household! Only Richard, enemy as he +was to my happiness, seemed endurable to me. For Richard was not +merry-making in his heart, and I was sure he was sorry for me all the +time he was trying to oppose me. + +Mr. Langenau was again in the Doctor's care, who came that evening, and +who said to Richard, in my hearing, he must be kept quiet; he didn't +altogether like his symptoms. + +Richard had his hands full, with great matters and small. Sophie had +washed hers of the invalid; there had been some sharpish words between +the sister and brother on the matter, I imagine, and the result was, +Richard was the only one who did or would do anything for his comfort +and safety. + +That day, after appearing at dinner, he came no more. I watched with +feverish anxiety every step, every sound; but he came not. I knew that +the Doctor's admonitions would not have much weight, nor yet Richard's +opinion. I had the feeling that if he would only speak to me, only look +at me once, it would ease that horrible oppression and pain which I was +suffering. The agony I was enduring was so intolerable, and its real +relief so impossible, like a child I caught at some fancied palliation, +and craved only that. What would one look, one word be--out of a +lifetime of silence and separation. + +No matter: it was what I raged and died for, just one look, just one +word more. He had said he would never look into my eyes again: that +haunted me and made me superstitious. I would _make_ him look at me. I +would seize his hand and kneel before him, and tell him I should die if +he did not speak to me once more. Once more! Just once, out of years, +out of forever. I had thrown duty, conscience, thought to the winds. I +had but one fear--that we should be finally separated without that word +spoken, that look exchanged. I said to myself again and again, I shall +die, if I cannot speak to him again. Beyond that I did not look. What +better I should be after that speaking I did not care. I only longed and +looked for that as a relief from the insufferable agony of my fate. One +cannot take in infinite wretchedness: it is our nature to make dates and +periods to our sorrows in our imagination. + +And so that horrid afternoon and evening passed, amid the racket and +babel of visitors and visiting. I followed almost blindly, and did as +the others did. The next morning dawned bright and cold. What a day for +summer! The sun was brilliant, but the wind came from over icebergs; it +seemed like "winter painted green." + +We were to start at nine o'clock. I was ready early, waiting on the +piazza for the aid to fate that was to keep me from the punishment of +going. No human being had spoken his name that morning. How should I +know whether he were still so ill or no. + +The hour for starting had arrived. Richard, who never kept long out of +sight of me, was busy loading the wagon that was to accompany us, with +baskets of things to eat, and with wines and fruits. Kilian was +engrossed in arranging the seats and cushions in the two carriages which +had just driven to the door. + +Mary Leighton was fluttering about the flower-bed at the left of the +piazza, making herself lovely with geranium and roses. Sophie, in a +beautiful costume, was pacifying Charley, who had had a difference with +his uncle Kilian. Charlotte and Henrietta were busy in their small way +over a little basket of preserves; and two or three of the neighboring +gentlemen, who were to drive with us, were approaching the house by a +side-entrance. + +In a moment or two we should be ready to be off. What should I do? I was +frantic with the thought that he might be worse, he might go away. I +was to be absent such a length of time. I must--I would see him before +we went. What better moment than the present, when everybody was engaged +in this fretting, foolish picnic. I would run up-stairs--call to him +outside his door--make him speak to me. + +With a guilty look around, I started up, stole through the group on the +piazza, and ran to the stairs. But alas, Richard had not failed to mark +my movements, and before my foot had touched the stair his voice +recalled me. I started with a guilty look, and trembled, but dared not +meet his eye. + +"Pauline, are you going away? We are just ready start." + +If I had had any presence of mind I should have made an excuse, and gone +to my own room for a moment, and taken my chance of getting to the floor +above; but I suppose he would have forestalled me. I could not command a +single word, but turned back and followed him. As we got into the +carriage, the voices and the laughing really seemed to madden me. +Driving away from the house, I never shall forget the sensation of +growing heaviness at my heart; it seemed to be turning into lead. I +glanced back at the closed windows of his room and wondered if he saw +us, and if he thought that I was happy. + +The length of that day! The glare of that sun! The chill of that +unnatural wind! Every moment seemed to me an hour. I can remember with +such distinctness the whole day, each thing as it happened; +conversations which seemed so senseless, preparations which seemed so +endless. The taste of the things I tried to eat: the smell of the grass +on which we sat, and the pine-trees above our heads: the sound of fire +blazing under the teakettle, and the pained sensation of my eyes when +the smoke blew across into our faces: the hateful vibration of Mary +Leighton's laugh: all these things are unnaturally vivid to me at +this day. + +I don't know what the condition of my brain must have been, to have +received such an exaggerated impression of unimportant things. + +"What can I do for you, Miss Pauline?" said Kilian, throwing himself +down on the grass at my feet. I could not sit down for very impatience, +but was walking restlessly about, and was now standing for a moment by a +great tree under which the table had been spread. It was four o'clock, +and there was only vague talk of going home; the horses had not yet been +brought up, the baskets were not a quarter packed. Every one was +indolent, and a good deal tired; the gentlemen were smoking, and no one +seemed in a hurry. + +When Kilian said, "What can I do for you. Miss Pauline?" I could not +help saying, "Take me home." + +"Home!" cried Kilian. "Here is somebody talking about going home. Why, +Miss Pauline, I am just beginning to enjoy myself! only look, it is but +four o'clock." + +"Oh, let us stay and go home by moonlight," cried Mary Leighton, in a +little rapture. + +"Would it not be heavenly!" said Henrietta. + +"How about tea?" said Charlotte. "We shall be hungry before moonlight, +and there isn't anything left to eat." + +"How material!" cried Kilian, who had eaten an enormous dinner. + +"We shall all get cold," said Sophie, who loved to be comfortable, "and +the children are beginning to be very cross." + +"Small blame to them," muttered a dissatisfied man in my ear, who had +singled me out as a companion in discontent, and had pursued me with his +contempt for pastoral entertainments, and for this entertainment +in especial. + +"Well, let the people that want to stay, stay; but let us go home," I +said, hastily. + +"That is so like you, Pauline," exclaimed Mary Leighton, in a voice that +stung me like nettles. + +"It is very like common-sense," I said, "if that's like me." + +"Well, it isn't particularly." + +"Let dogs delight," said Kilian, "I have a compromise to offer. If we go +home by the bridge we pass the little Brink hotel, where they give +capital teas. We can stop there, rest, get tea, have a dance in the +'ball-room,' sixteen by twenty, and go home by moonlight, filling the +souls of Miss Leighton and Henrietta with bliss." + +A chorus of ecstasy followed this; Sophie herself was satisfied with the +plan, and exulted in the prospect of washing her face, and lying down on +a bed for half an hour, though only at a little country inn. Even this +low form of civilized life was tempting, after seven hours spent in +communion with nature on hard rocks. + +Great alacrity was shown in getting ready and in getting off. I could +not speak to any one, not even the dissatisfied man, but walked away by +myself and tried to let no one see what I was feeling. After all was +ready, I got into the carriage beside one of the Miss Lowders, and the +dissatisfied man sat opposite. He wore canvas shoes and a corduroy suit, +and sleeve-buttons and studs that were all bugs and bees. I think I +could make a drawing of the sleeve-button on the arm with which he held +the umbrella over us; there were five different forms of insect-life +represented on it, but I remember them all. + +"I'm afraid you haven't enjoyed yourself very much," said Miss Lowder, +looking at me rather critically. + +"I? why--no, perhaps not; I don't generally enjoy myself very much." + +Somebody out on the front seat laughed very shrilly at this: of course +it was Mary Leighton, who was sitting beside Kilian, who drove. I felt I +would have liked to push her over among the horses, and drive on. + +"Isn't her voice like a steel file?" I said with great simplicity to my +companions. The dissatisfied man, writhing uncomfortably on his seat, +four inches too narrow for any one but a child of six, assented +gloomily. Miss Lowder, who was twenty-eight years old and very well +bred, looked disapproving, and changed the subject. Not much more was +said after this. Miss Lowder had a neuralgic headache, developed by the +cold wind and an undigested dinner eaten irregularly. She was too polite +to mention her sufferings, but leaned back in the carriage and +was silent. + +My vis-a-vis was at last relieved by the declining sun from his task, +and so the umbrella-arm and its sleeve-button were removed from my range +of vision. + +We counted the mile-posts, and we looked sometimes at our watches, and +so the time wore away. + +Kilian and Mary Leighton were chattering incessantly, and did not pay +much attention to us. Kilian drove pretty fast almost all the way, but +sometimes forgot himself when Mary was too seductive, and let the horses +creep along like snails. + +"There's our little tavern," cried Kilian at last, starting up the +horses. + +"Oh, I'm so sorry," murmured Mary Leighton, "we have had such a lovely +drive." + +My vis-a-vis groaned and looked at me as this observation reached us. I +laughed a little hysterically: I was so glad to be at the half-way +house--and Mary Leighton's words were so absurd. When we got out of the +carriage, the dissatisfied man stretched his long English limbs out, and +lighting his cigar, began silently to pace the bricks in front of +the house. + +Kilian took us into the little parlor (we were the first to arrive), and +committed us to the care of a thin, tired-looking woman, and then went +to see to the comfort of his horses. + +The tired woman, who looked as if she never had sat down since she grew +up, took us to some rooms, where we were to rest till tea was ready. The +rooms had been shut up all day, and the sun had been beating on them: +they smelled of paint and dust and ill-brushed carpets. The water in the +pitchers was warm and not very clear: the towels were very small and +thin, the beds were hard, and the pillows very small, like the towels: +they felt soft and warm and limp, like sick kittens. We threw open the +windows and aired the rooms, and washed our faces and hands: and Miss +Lowder lay down on the bed and put her head on a pile of four of the +little pillows collected from the different rooms. Mary Leighton spent +the time in re-arranging her hair, and I walked up and down the hall, +too impatient to rest myself in any way. + +By-and-by the others came, and then there was a hubbub and a clatter, +and poor Miss Lowder's head was overlooked in the melee; for these were +all the rooms the house afforded for the entertainment of wayfarers, and +as there were nine ladies in our party, it is not difficult to imagine +the confusion that ensued. + +Benny and Charley also came to have their hair arranged, and it devolved +on Charlotte and me to do it, as their mamma had thrown herself +exhausted on one of the beds, and with the bolsters doubled up under her +head, was trying to get some rest. + +It was fully half-past seven before the tea-bell rang. I seized Benny's +hand, and we were the first on the ground. I don't know how I thought +this would be useful in hurrying matters, for Benny's tea and mine were +very soon taken, and were very insignificant fractions of the +general business. + +There were kerosene lamps on the table, and everything was served in the +plainest manner, but the cooking was really good, and it was evident +that the tired woman had been on her feet all her life to some purpose. +Almost every one was hungry, and the contrast to the cold meats, and the +hard rocks, and the disjointed apparatus of the noonday meal, was very +favorable. + +Richard had put me between himself and Benny, and he watched my +undiminished supper with disapprobation: but I do not believe he ate +much more himself. He put everything that he thought I might like, +before me, silently: and I think the tired woman (who was waitress as +well as cook), must have groaned over the frequent changing of my plate. + +"Do not take any more of that," he said, as I put out my hand for +another cup of coffee. + +"Well, what shall I take?" I exclaimed peevishly. But indeed I did not +mean to be peevish, nor did I know quite what I said, I was so +miserable. Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some question +of Sophie; who was quite revived. + +Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, and a +young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders. + +It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies from +the house. After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the smoking +there was to be dancing. The preparations for the dancing created a good +deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time. Kilian and young +Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play for them. When he +came, he had to be instructed as to the style of music to be furnished, +and the rasping and scraping of that miserable instrument put me beside +myself with nervousness. Then the "ball-room" had to be aired and +lighted; then the negro's music was found to be incompatible with modern +movements; even a waltz was proved impossible, and nobody would consent +to remember a quadrille but Richard. So they had to fall back upon +Virginia reels, and everybody was made to dance. + +The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given. He turned +to me languidly, and offered me his hand. + +"No," I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, "You will +excuse me, won't you?" + +He said, with grave philosophy, "I really think it will seem shorter +than if we were looking on." + +I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him. And what a +dance it was! The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of the room, the +asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the little platform by +the door: the amused faces looking in at the open windows: the romping, +well-dressed, pretty women: the handsome men who were trying to act like +clowns: the noise of laughing and the calling out of the figures: all +this, I am sure, I never shall forget. And, strange to say, I somewhat +enjoyed it after all. The coffee had stimulated me: the music was merry: +I was reckless, and my companions were full of glee. Even the _ennuye_ +skipped up and down the room like a school-boy: I never shall forget +Richard's happy and relieved expression, when I laughed aloud at +somebody's amusing blunder. + +Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were getting +ready to go home. It was a good deal after ten o'clock, and the night +was cold. There were not quite shawls enough, no preparations having +been made for staying out after dark. Richard went up to Sophie (I was +standing out by the steps to be ready the moment the carriages should +come), and I heard him negotiating with her for a shawl for me. She was +quite impatient and peremptory, though _sotto voce_. The children needed +both her extra ones, and there was an end of it. + +I did not care at all, and feeling warm with dancing, did not dread what +I had not yet felt. I pulled my light cloak around me, and only longed +for the carriage to arrive. But after we had started and were about +forty rods from the door, quite out of the light of the little tavern, +just within a grove of locust-trees (the moon was under clouds), +Richard's voice called out to Kilian to stop, and coming up to the side +of the carriage, said, "Put this around you, Pauline, you haven't got +enough." He put something around my shoulders which felt very warm and +comfortable: I believe I said, Thank you, though I am not at all sure, +and Kilian drove on rapidly. + +By-and-by, when I began to feel a little chilly, I drew it together +round my throat: the air was like November, and, August though it was, +there was a white frost that night. I was frightened when I found what I +had about my shoulders. It was Richard's coat. I called to Kilian to +stop a moment, I wanted to speak to Richard. But when we stopped, the +carriage in which he was to drive was just behind us--and some one in it +said, Richard had walked. He had not come back after he ran out to speak +to us--must have struck across the fields and gone ahead. And Richard +walked home, five miles, that night! the only way to save himself from +the deadly chill of the keen air, without his coat. + +When we drove into the gate, at home, I stooped eagerly forward to get a +sight of the house through the trees. There was a light burning in the +room over mine: that was all I wanted to know, and with a sigh of relief +I sank back. + +When we went into the hall, I remembered to hang Richard's coat upon a +rack there, and then ran to my room. I could not get any news of Mr. +Langenau, and could not hear how the day had gone with him: could only +take the hope that the sight of the little lamp conveyed. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +I SHALL HAVE SEEN HIM. + + Go on, go on: + Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved + All tongues to talk their bitterest. + + _Winter's Tale_. + + +Of course, the night was entirely sleepless after such, a day. I was +over-tired, and the coffee would have been fatal to rest in any case. I +tossed about restlessly till three o'clock, and then fell into a +heavy sleep. + +The sun was shining into the room, and I heard the voices of people on +the lawn when I awoke. When I went down, after a hurried and nervous +half-hour of dressing, I found the morning, apparently, half gone, and +the breakfast-table cleared. + +Mary Leighton, with a croquet mallet in her hand, was following Kilian +through the hall to get a drink of water. She made a great outcry at me +and my appearance. + +"What a headache you must have," she cried. "But ah! think what you've +missed, dear! The tutor has been down at breakfast, or rather at the +breakfast-table, for he didn't eat a thing. He is a, little paler than +he was at dinner day before yesterday--and he's gone up-stairs; and +we've voted that we hope he'll stay there, for he depresses us just to +look at him." + +And then, with an unmeaning laugh, she tripped on after Kilian to get +that drink of water, which was nothing but a ticket for a moment's +_tete-a-tete_ away from the croquet party. Richard had seen me by this +time, and came in and asked how I felt, and rang the bell in the +dining-room, and ordered my breakfast brought. He did not exactly stay +and watch it, but he came in and out of the dining-room enough times to +see that I had everything that was dainty and nice (and to see, alas! +that I could not eat it); for that piece of news from Mary Leighton had +levelled me with the ground again. + +That I had missed seeing him was too cruel, and that he looked so ill; +how could I bear it? + +After my breakfast was taken away, I went into the hall, and sat down on +the sofa between the parlor doors. Pretty soon the people came in from +the croquet ground, talking fiercely about a game in which Kilian and +Mary had been cheating. Charlotte Benson was quite angry, and Charley, +who had played with her, was enraged. I thought they were such, fools +to care, and Richard looked as if he thought they were all silly +children. The day was warm and close, such a contrast to the day before. +The sudden cold had broken down into a sultry August atmosphere. The +sun, which had been bright an hour ago, was becoming obscured, and the +sky was grayish. Every one felt languid. We were all sitting about the +hall, idly, when a servant brought a note. It was an invitation; that +roused them all--and for to-day. There was no time to lose. + +The Lowders had sent to ask us all to a croquet party there at four +o'clock. + +"What an hour!" cried Sophie, who was tired; "I should think they might +have let us get rested from the picnic." + +But Charlotte and Henrietta were so much charmed at the prospect of +seeing so soon the Frenchman and the young devoted Lowder, that they +listened to no criticism on the hour or day. + +"How nice!" they said, "we shall get there a little before five--play +for a couple of hours--then have tea on the lawn, perhaps--a little +dance, and home by moonlight." It was a ravishing prospect for their +unemployed imaginations, and they left no time in rendering +their answer. + +For myself, I had taken a firm resolve. I would never repeat the misery +of yesterday; nothing should persuade me to go with them, but I would +manage it so that I should be free from every one, even Richard. + +Croquet parties are great occasions for pretty costumes; all this was +talked over. What should I wear? Oh, my gray grenadine, with the violet +trimmings, and a gray hat with violet velvet and feather. + +"You have everything so perfect for that suit," said Mary Leighton, in a +tone of envy. "Cravat and parasol and gloves of just the shade +of violet." + +"And gray boots," I said. "It _is_ a pretty suit." No one but Sophie had +such expensive clothes as I, but I cannot say at that moment they made +me very happy. I was only thinking how improbable that the gray suit +would come out of the box that day, unless I should be obliged to dress +to mislead the others till the last. + +The carriages (for we filled two), were to be at the door at four +o'clock punctually. The Lowders were five miles away: the whole thing +was so talked about and planned about, that when dinner was over, I felt +we had had a croquet party, and quite a long one at that. + +Mr. Langenau did not come to dinner; Sophie sent a servant to his room +after we were at table, to ask him if he would come down, or have his +dinner sent to him; but the servant came back, saying he did not want +any dinner, with his compliments to Mrs. Hollenbeck. + +"_A la bonne heure_" cried Kilian. "A skeleton always interferes with my +appetite at a feast." + +"It is the only thing, then, that does, isn't it?" asked Charlotte, who +seemed to have a pick at him always. + +"No, not the only thing. There is one other--just one other." + +"And, for the sake of science, what is that?" + +"A woman with a sharp tongue, Miss Charlotte.--Sophie, I don't think +much of these last soups. Your famous cook's degenerating, take +my word." + +And so on, while Charlotte colored, and was silent through the meal. She +knew her tongue was sharp; she knew that she was self-willed and was not +humble. But she had not taken herself in hand, religiously; to take +one's self in hand morally, or on grounds of expediency, never amounts +to much; and such taking in hand was all that Charlotte had as yet +attempted. In a little passion of self-reproach and mortification, she +occasionally lopped off ugly shoots; but the root was still vigorous and +lusty, and only grew the better for its petty pruning. Richard looked +very much displeased at his brother's rudeness, and tried to make up +for it by great kindness and attention. + +About this time I had become aware of what were Sophie's plans for +Richard. In case he must marry (to be cured of me), he was to marry +Charlotte, who was so capable, so sensible, of so good family, so much +indebted to Sophie, and so decidedly averse to living in the country. +Sophie saw herself still mistress here, with, to be sure, a shortened +income, and Richard and his wife spending a few weeks with her in the +summer. I do not know how far Charlotte entered into these plans. +Probably not at all, consciously; but I became aware that, as a little +girl, Richard had been her hero; and he did not seem to have been +displaced by any one entirely yet. But I took a very faint interest in +all this. I should have cared, probably, if I had seen Richard devoted +to her. He seemed to belong to me, and I should have resented any +interference with my rights. But I did not dread any. I knew, though I +took little pleasure in the knowledge, that he loved me with all his +good and manly heart; and it never seemed a possibility that he +could change. + +The simple selfishness of young women in these matters is appalling. +Richard was mine by right of conquest, and I owed him no gratitude for +the service of his life. That other was the lord who had the right +inalienable over me. I bent myself in the dust before him. I would have +taken shame itself as an honor from his hands. I thought of him day and +night. I filled my soul with passionate admiration for his good deeds, +his ill deeds, his all. And the other was as the ground beneath my feet, +of which I seldom thought. + +Richard met me at the foot of the stairs, after dinner, as I was going +up. + +"Pauline, will you go in the carriage with Charlotte and Sophie? I am +going to drive." + +"Oh, it doesn't make any difference," I answered, with confusion. +"Anywhere you choose." + +I think he had misgivings about my going from that moment; to allay +which, I called out something about my costume to Sophie as I went up to +my room. The day was growing duller, and stiller, and grayer. I sat by +the window and watched the leaden river. It was like an afternoon in +September, before the chill of the autumn has come. Not a leaf moved +upon the trees, not a cloud crept over the sky. It was all one dim, +gray, gloomy stillness overhead. I wondered if they would have rain. +_They_, not I, for I was going to stay at home, and before they came +back I should have seen him. I said that over and over to myself with +bated breath, and cheeks that burned like flame. Every step that passed +my door made me start guiltily. Once, when some one knocked, I pulled +out my gray dress, and flung it on the bed, before I answered. + +It was approaching four o'clock. I undressed myself rapidly, put on a +dressing-sack, and threw myself upon the bed. What should I say when +they came for me? They could not _make_ me go. I felt very brave. At +last the carriages drove up to the door. I crept to the window to see if +any one was ready. While I was watching through the half-closed blinds, +some one crossed the piazza. My heart gave a great leap, and then every +pulse stood still. It was Mr. Langenau. His step was slower than it used +to be, and, I thought, a little faltering. He crossed the road, and took +the path that led through the grove and garden to the river. He had a +book under his arm; he must be going to the boat-house to sit there and +read. My heart gave such an ecstasy of life to my veins at the thought, +that for a moment I felt sick and faint, as I drew back from the window. + +I threw myself on the bed as some one knocked. It was a servant to tell +me they were ready. I sent word to Mrs. Hollenbeck that I was not well, +and should not be able to go with them. Then I lay still and waited in +much trepidation for the second knock. I heard in a few moments the +rustle of Sophie's dress outside. She was not pleased at all. She could +scarcely be polite. But then everything looked very plausible. There lay +my dress upon the bed, as if I had begun to dress, and I was pale and +trembling, and I am sure must have looked ill enough to have convinced +her that I spoke the truth. + +She made some feeble offer to stay and take care of me. "Oh, pray +don't," I cried, too eagerly, I am afraid. And then she said her maid +should come and stay with me, for the children were going with them, and +there would be nothing for her to do. I stammered thanks, and then she +went away. I did not dare to move till after I had heard both carriages +drive off, and all voices die away in the distance. + +Bettina came to the door, and was sent away with thanks. Then I began to +dress myself with very trembling hands. This was new work to me, this +horrible deception. But all remorse for that, was swallowed up in the +one engrossing thought and desire which had usurped my soul for the days +just passed. + +It was a full half-hour before I was ready, my hands shook so +unaccountably, and I could scarcely find the things I wanted to put on. +When I went to the door I could hardly turn the key, I felt so weak, +and I stood in the passage many minutes before I dared go on. If any +one had appeared or spoken to me, I am quite sure I should have fainted, +my nerves were in such a shaken state. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +AUGUST THIRTIETH. + + Were Death so unlike Sleep, + Caught this way? Death's to fear from flame, or steel, + Or poison doubtless; but from water--feel! + + _Robert Browning_. + + +I met no one in the hall or on the piazza. The house was silent and +deserted: one of the maids was closing the parlor windows. She did not +look at me with any surprise, for she had not probably heard that I +was ill. + +Once in the open air I felt stronger. I took the river-path, and walked +quickly, feeling freed from a nightmare: and my mind was filled with one +thought. "In a few moments I shall be beside him, I shall make him look +at me, he cannot help but touch my hand." I did not think of past or +future, only of the greedy, passionate present. My infatuation was at +its height. I cannot imagine a passion more absorbing, more unresisted, +and more dangerous. I passed quickly through the garden without even +noticing the flowers that brushed against my dress. + +As I reached the grove I thought for one instant of the morning that he +had met me here, just where the paths intersected. At that moment I +heard a step; and full of that hope, with a quick thrill, I glanced in +the direction of the sound. There, not ten yards from me, coming from +the opposite direction, was Richard. I felt a shock of disappointment, +then fear, then anger. What right had he to dog me so? He looked at me +without surprise, but as if his heart was full of bitterness and sorrow. +He approached, and turned as if to walk with me. + +"I want to be alone," I said angrily, moving away from him. + +"No, Pauline," he answered with a sigh, as he turned from me, "you do +not want to be alone." + +Full of shame and anger, and jarred with the shock and fear, I went on +more slowly. The wood was so silent--the river through the trees lay so +still and leaden. If it had not been for the fire burning in my heart, I +could have thought the world was dead. + +There was not a sound but my own steps; should I soon meet him, would he +be sitting in his old seat by the boat-house door, or would he be +wandering along the dead, still river-bank? What should I say to him? O! +he would speak. If he saw me he would have to speak. + +I soon forgot that I had met Richard, that I had been angry; and again +I had but this one thought. + +The pine cones were slippery under my feet. I held by the old trees as I +went down the bank, step by step. I had to turn and pass a clump of +trees before I reached the boat-house door. + +I was there! With a beating heart I stepped up on the threshold. There +were two doors, one that opened on the path, one that opened on the +river. The house was empty. I had a little sinking pang of +disappointment, but I passed on to the door looking out on the river. By +this door was a seat, empty, but on this lay a book and a straw hat. I +could feel the hot blushes cover my face, my neck, as I caught sight of +these. I stooped down, feeling guilty, and took up the book. It was a +book which he had read daily to me in our lesson-hours. It had his name +on the blank page, and was full of his pencil-marks. I meant to ask him +to give me this book; I would rather have it than anything the world +held, when I should be parted from him. _When!_ I sat down on the seat +beside the door, with the book lying in my lap, the straw hat on the +bench. I longed to take it in my hands--to wreathe it with the clematis +that grew about the door, as I had done one foolish, happy afternoon, +not three weeks ago. But with a strange inconsistency, I dared not +touch it; my face grew hot with blushes as I thought of it. + +How should I meet him? Now that the moment I had longed for had arrived, +I wondered that I had dared to long for it. I felt that if I heard his +step, I should fly and hide myself from him. The recollection of that +last interview in the library--which I had lived over and over, nights +and days, incessantly, since then, came back with fresh force, fresh +vehemence. But no step approached me, all was silent; it began to +impress me strangely, and I looked about me. I don't know at what moment +it was, my eye fell upon the trace of footsteps on the bank, and then on +the mark of the boat dragged along the sand; a little below the +boat-house it had been pushed off into the water. + +I started to my feet, and ran down to the water's edge (at the +boat-house the trees had been in the way of my seeing the river any +distance). + +I stood still, the water lapping faintly on the sand at my feet; it was +hardly a sound. I looked out on the unruffled lead-colored river: there, +about quarter of a mile from the bank, the boat was lying: empty +--motionless. The oars were floating a few rods from her, drifting +slowly, slowly, down the stream. + +The sight seemed to turn my warm blood and blushes into ice: even +before I had a distinct impression of what I feared, I was benumbed. But +it did not take many moments for the truth, or a dread of it, to +reach my brain. + +I covered my eyes with my hands, then sprang up the bank and called +wildly. + +My voice was like a madwoman's, and it must have sounded far on that +still air. In less than a moment Richard came hurrying with great +strides down the path. I sprang to him, and caught his arm and dragged +him to the water's edge. + +"Look," I whispered--pointing to the hat and book--and then out to the +boat. I read his face in terror. It grew slowly, deadly white. + +"My God!" he said in a tone of awe. Then shaking me from him, sprang up +the bank, and his voice was something fearful as he shouted, as he +ran, for help. + +There were men laboring, two or three fields off. I don't know how long +it took them to get to him, nor how long to get a boat out on the water, +nor what boat it was. I know they had ropes and poles, and that they +were talking in eager, hurried voices, as they passed me. + +I sat on the steps that led down the bank, clinging to the low railing +with my hands: I had sunk down because my strength had given way all at +once, and I felt as if everything were rocking and surging under me. +Sometimes everything was black before me, and then again I could see +plainly the wide expanse of the river, the wide expanse of the gray sky, +and between them--the empty, motionless boat, and the floating oars +beyond upon the tide. + +The voices of the men, and the splashing of the water, when at last they +were launched and pulling away from shore, made a ringing, frightful +noise in my head. I watched till I saw them reach the boat--till I saw +one of them get over in it. Then while they groped about with ropes and +poles, and lashed their boats together, and leaned over and gazed down +into the water, I watched in a strange, benumbed state. + +But, by-and-by, there were some exclamations--a stir, and effort of +strength. I saw them pulling in the ropes with combined movement. I saw +them leaning over the side of the boat, nearest the shore, and together +trying to lift something heavy over into it. I saw the water dripping as +they raised it--and then I think I must have swooned. For I knew nothing +further till I heard Richard's voice, and, raising my head, saw him +leaping from the boat upon the bank. The other boat was further out, and +was approaching slowly. I stood up as he came to me, and held by +the railing. + +"I want you to go up to the house," he said, gently, "there can be no +good in your staying here." + +"I will stay," I cried, everything coming back to me. "I will--will see +him." + +"There is no hope, Pauline," he said, in a quick voice, for the boat was +very near the bank, "or very little--and you must not stay. Everything +shall be done that can be done. I will do all. But you must not stay." + +"I will," I said, frantically, trying to burst past him. He caught my +arms and turned me toward the boat-house, and led me through it, out +into the path that went up to the grove. + +"Go home," he said, in a voice I never shall forget. "You shall not make +a spectacle for these men. I have promised you I will do all. Mind you +obey me strictly, and go up to your room and wait there till I come." + +I don't know how I got there. I believe Bettina found me at the entrance +to the garden, and helped me to the house, and put me on my bed. + +An hour passed--perhaps more--and such an hour! (for I was not for a +moment unconscious, after this, only deadly faint and weak), and then +Richard came. The door was a little open, and he pushed it back and +came in, and stood beside the bed. + +I suppose the sight of me, so broken and spoiled by suffering, overcame +him, for he stooped down suddenly, and kissed me, and then did not speak +for a moment. + +At last he said, in a voice not quite steady, "I didn't mean to be hard +on you, Pauline. But you know I had to do it." + +"And there isn't any--any--" I gasped for the words, and could hardly +speak. + +"No, none, Pauline," he said, keeping my hand in his. "The doctors have +just gone away. It was all no use." + +"Tell me about it," I whispered. + +"About what?" he said, looking troubled. + +"About how it happened." + +"Nobody can tell," he answered, averting his face. "We can only +conjecture about some things. Don't try to think about it. Try to rest." + +"How does he look?" I whispered, clinging to his hand. + +"Just the same as ever; more quiet, perhaps," he answered, looking +troubled. + +I gave a sort of gasp, but did not cry. I think he was frightened, for +he said, uneasily, "Let me call Bettina; she can give you +something--she can sit beside you." + +I shook my head, and said, faintly, "Don't let her come." + +"I have sent for Sophie," he said, soothingly. "She will soon be here, +and will know what to do for you." + +"Keep her out of this room," I cried, half raising myself, and then +falling back from sudden faintness. "Don't let her come _near_ me," I +panted, after a moment, "nor any of them, but, most of all, Sophie; +remember--don't let her even look at me;" and with moaning, I turned my +face down on the pillow. I had taken in about a thousandth fraction of +my great calamity by that time. Every moment was giving to me some +additional possession of it. + +Some one at that instant called Richard, in that subdued tone that +people use about a house in which there is one dead. + +"I have got to go," he said, uneasily. I still kept hold of his hand. +"But I will come back before very long; and I will tell Bettina to bring +a chair and sit outside your door, and not let any one come in." + +"That will do," I said, letting go his hand, "only I don't want my door +shut tight." + +I felt as if the separation were not so entire, so tremendous, while I +could hear what was going on below, and know that no door was shut +between us--no door! Bettina, in a moment more, had taken up her station +in the passage-way outside. + +I heard people coming and going quietly through the hall below. I heard +doors softly shut and opened. + +I knew, by some intuition, that _he_ was lying in the library. They +moved furniture with a smothered sound; and when I heard two or three +men sent off on messages by Richard, even the horses' hoofs seemed to be +muffled as they struck the ground. This was the effect of the coming in +of death into busy, household life. I had never been under the roof with +it before. + +About dusk a servant came to the door, with a tray of tea and something +to eat, that Mr. Richard had sent her with. + +"No," I said, "don't leave it here." + +But, in a few moments, Richard himself brought it back. I can well +imagine how anxious and unhappy he felt. He had, perhaps, never before +had charge of any one ill or in trouble, and this was a strange +experience. + +"You must eat something, Pauline," he said. "I want you to. Sit up, and +take this tea." + +I was not inclined to dispute his will, but raised my head, and drank +the tea, and ate a few mouthfuls of the biscuit. But that made me too +ill, and I put the plate away from me. + +"I am very sorry," I said, meekly, "but I can't eat it. I feel as if it +choked me." + +He seemed touched with my submissiveness, and, giving Bettina the tray, +stood looking down at me as if he did not know how to say something that +was in his mind. Suddenly my ear, always quick, now exaggeratedly so, +caught sound of carriage-wheels. I started up and cried, "They are +coming," and hid my face in my hands. + +"Don't be troubled," he said, "you shall not be disturbed." + +"Oh, Richard," I exclaimed, as he was going away, after another +undecided movement as if to speak, "you know what I want." + +"Yes, I know," he said, in a low voice. + +"And now they're come, I cannot. They will see him, and I cannot." + +"Be patient. I will arrange for you to go. Don't, don't, Pauline." + +For I was in a sort of spasm, though no tears came, and my sobs were +more like the gasps of a person being suffocated, than like one +in grief. + +"If you will only be quiet, I will take you down, after a few hours, +when they are all gone to their rooms. Pauline, you'll kill me; don't do +so--Pauline, they'll hear you. Try not to do so; that's right--lie down +and try to quiet yourself, poor child. I can't bear to go away; but +there is Sophie on the stairs." + +He had scarcely time to reach the hall before Sophie burst upon him with +almost a shriek. + +"What is this horrible affair, Richard? What a terrible disgrace and +scandal! we never shall get over it. Will it get in the papers, do you +think? I am so ill--I have been in such a state since the news came. +Such a drive home as this has been! Oh, Richard, tell me all about it +quickly. Where is Pauline? how does she bear it?" making for my door. + +Richard put out his hand and stopped her. I had sprung up from the bed, +and stood, trembling violently, at the further extremity of the room. I +do not know what I meant to do if she came in, for I was almost beside +myself at that moment. + +She was persistent, angry, agitated. How well I knew the curiosity that +made her so intent to gain admission to me. It was not so much that I +dreaded being a spectacle, as the horror and hatred I felt at being +approached by her coldness and hypocrisy, while I was so sore and +wounded. I was hardly responsible; I don't think I could have borne the +touch of her hand. + +But Richard saved me, and sent her away angry. I crept back to the bed, +and lay down on it again. I heard the others whispering as they passed +through the hall. Mary Leighton was crying; Charlotte was silent. I +don't think I heard her voice at all. + +After a long while I heard them go down, and go into the dining-room. +They spoke in very subdued tones, and there was only the slightest +movement of china and silver, to indicate that a meal was going on. But +this seemed to give me a more frantic sense of change than anything +else. I flung myself across the bed, and another of those dreadful, +tearless spasms seized me. Everything--all life--was going on just the +same; even in this very house they were eating and drinking as they ate +and drank before--the very people who had talked with him this day; the +very table at which he had sat this morning. Oh! they were so heartless +and selfish: every one was; life itself was. I did not know where to +turn for comfort. I had a feeling of dreading every one, of shrinking +away from every one. + +"Oh!" I said to myself, "if Richard is with them at the table, I never +want to see him again." + +But Richard was not with them. In a moment or two he came to the door, +only to ask me if I wanted anything, and to say he would come back +by-and-by. + +There was a question which I longed so frantically to ask him, but +which I dared not; my life seemed to hang on the answer. _When were they +going to take him away?_ I had heard something about trains and +carriages, and I had a wild dread that it was soon to be. + +I went to the door and called Richard back, and made him understand what +I wanted to know. He looked troubled, and said in a low tone, + +"At four o'clock we go from here to meet the earliest train. I have +telegraphed his friends, and have had an answer. I am going down myself, +and it is all arranged in the best way, I think. Go and lie down now, +Pauline; I will come and take you down soon as the house is quiet." + +Richard went away unconscious of the stab his news had given me. I had +not counted on anything so sudden as this parting. While he was in the +house, while I was again to look upon his face, the end had not come; +there was a sort of hope, though only a hope of suffering, something to +look forward to, before black monotony began its endless day. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +BESIDE HIM ONCE AGAIN. + + There are blind ways provided, the foredone + Heart-weary player in this pageant world + Drops out by, letting the main masque defile + By the conspicuous portal. + + _R. Browning_. + + + What is this world? What asken men to have? + Now with his love--now in his cold grave-- + Alone, withouten any companie! + + _Chaucer_. + + +The tall old clock, which stood by the dining-room door, had struck two, +and been silent many minutes, before Richard came to me. I had spent +those dreadful hours in feverish restlessness: my room seemed +suffocating to me. I had walked about, had put away my trinkets, I had +changed my dress, and put on a white one which I had worn in the +morning, and had tried to braid my hair. + +The quieting of the house, it seemed, would never come. It was twelve +o'clock before any one came up-stairs. I heard one door after another +shut, and then sat waiting and wondering why Richard did not come, till +the moments seemed to grow to centuries. At last I heard him at the +door, and I went toward it trembling, and followed him into the hall. He +carried a light, for up-stairs it was all dark, and when we reached the +stairway, he took my hand to lead me. I was trembling very much; the +hall below was dimly lit by a large lamp which had been turned low. Our +steps on the bare staircase made so much noise, though we tried to move +so silently. It was weird and awful. I clung to Richard's hand in +silence. He led me across the hall, and stopped before the library-door. +He let go my hand, and taking a key from his pocket, put it in the lock, +turned it slowly, then opened the door a little way, and motioned me +to enter. + +Like one in a trance, I obeyed him, and went in alone. He shut the door +noiselessly, and left me with the dead. + +That was the great, the immense hour of my life. No vicissitude, no +calamity of this mortal state, no experience that may be to come, can +ever have the force, the magnitude of this. All feelings, but a child's +feelings, were comparatively new to me, and here, at one moment, I had +put into my hand the plummet that sounded hell; anguish, remorse, +fear--a woman's heart in hopeless pain. For I will not believe that any +child, that any woman, had ever loved more absolutely, more +passionately, than I had loved the man who lay there dead before me. But +I cannot talk about what I felt in those moments; all that concerns what +I write is the external. + +The--coffin was in the middle of the room, where the table ordinarily +stood--where my chair had been that night, when he told me his story. +Surely if I sinned, in thought, in word, _that_ night, I paid its full +atonement, _this_. Candles stood on a small table at the head of where +he lay, and many flowers were about the room. The smell of +verbena-leaves filled the air: a branch of them was in a vase that some +one had put beside his coffin. The fresh, cool night-air came in from +the large window, open at the top. + +His face was, as Richard said, much as in life, only quieter. I do not +know what length of time Richard left me there, but at last, I was +recalled to the present, by his hand upon my shoulder, and his voice in +a whisper, "Come with me now, Pauline." + +I rose to my feet, hardly understanding what he said, but resisted when +I did understand him. + +"Come with me," he said, gently, "You shall come back again and say +good-bye. Only come out into the hall and stay awhile with me; it is not +good for you to be here so long." + +He took my hand and led me out, shutting the door noiselessly. He took +me across the hall, and into the parlor, where there was no light, +except what came in from the hall. There was a sofa opposite the door, +and to that he led me, standing himself before me, with his perplexed +and careworn face. I was very silent for some time: all that awful time +in the library, I had never made a sound: but suddenly, some thought +came that reached the source of my tears, and I burst into a passion of +weeping. I am not sure what it was: I think, perhaps, the sight of the +piano, and the recollection of that magnificent voice that would never +be heard again, Whatever it was, I bless it, for I think it saved my +brain. I threw myself down upon the sofa, and clung to Richard's hand, +and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. + +Poor fellow! my tears seemed to shake him terribly. Once he turned away, +and drew his hand across his brow, as if it were a little more than he +could bear. But some men, like many women, are born to sacrifice. + +He tried to comfort and soothe me with broken words. But what was there +to say? + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, "What does it all mean? why am I so punished? +was it so very wicked to have loved him after I knew all? Was all this +allowed to come because I did that? Answer me, tell me; tell me what +you think." + +"No, Pauline, I don't think that was it. Don't talk about it now. Try to +be quiet. You are not fit to think about it now." + +"But, Richard, what else can it mean? I know, I know that it is the +truth. God wouldn't have sent such a punishment upon me if he hadn't +seen my sin." + +"It's more likely He sent it to--" and then he paused. + +I know now he meant, it was more likely He had sent it to save me from +the sins of others; but he had the holy charity not to say it. + +"Oh," I cried, passionately, "When all the sin was mine, that he should +have had to die: when he never came near me, never looked at me: when he +would rather die than break his word to me. That night in the library, +after he had told me all, he said, 'I will never look into your eyes +again, I will never touch your hand;' and though we were in the same +room together after that, and in the same house all this time, and +though he knew I loved him so--he never looked at me, he never turned +his eyes upon me; and I--I was willing to sin for him--to die for him. I +would have followed him to the ends of the earth, not twelve hours ago." + +"Hush, Pauline," said Richard huskily, "you don't know what you're +saying--you are a child." + +"No, I'm not a child--after to-day, after to-night--I am not a +child--and I know too well what I say--too well--too well. Richard, you +don't know what has been in my heart. That night, he held me in his arms +and kissed me--when he said good-bye. Then I was innocent, for I was +dazed by grief and had not come to my senses, after what he told me. But +to-day I said--_to-day_--to have his arms around me once again--to have +him kiss me once again as he kissed me then--I would go away from all I +ever had been taught of right and duty, and would be satisfied." + +"Then, thank God for what has come," said Richard, hoarsely, wiping from +his forehead the great drops that had broken out upon it. + +"No!" I cried with a fresh burst of weeping. "No, I cannot thank God, +for I want him back again. _I want him_. I had rather die than be +separated from him. I cannot thank God for taking him away from me. Oh, +Richard, what shall I do? I loved him, loved him so. Don't look so +stern; don't turn away from me. You used to love me. Could you thank God +for taking me away from you, out of your arms, warm, and strong, and +living, and making me cold, and dumb, and stiff, like _that_?" + +"Yes, Pauline, if it had been to save us both from sin." + +"You don't know what love is, if you say that." + +"I know what sin is, better than you do, maybe. Listen, Pauline. I've +loved you ever since I saw you; men don't often love better than I have +loved you; but I'd rather drag you, to-night, to that black river there, +and hold you down with my own hands till the breath left your body, than +see you turn into a sinful woman, and lead the life of shame you tell me +you had it in your heart to lead, to-day." + +"Is it so very awful?" I whispered with a shiver, my own emotion stilled +before his. "I only loved him!" + +"Forget you ever did," he said, rising, and pacing up and down the room. + +I put my hands before my face, and felt as if I were alone in the world +with sin. If this unspoken, passionate, sweet thought, that I had +harbored, were so full of danger as to force God to blast me with such +punishment, as to drive this tender, generous, loving man to wish me +dead, what must be the blackness of the sin from which I had been saved, +if I were saved? If there were, indeed, anything but shocks of woe and +punishment, and deadly despair and darkness, in this strange world in +which I found myself. There was a silence. I rose to my feet. I don't +know what I meant to do or where to go; my only impulse was to hide +myself from the eyes of my companion, and to go away from him, as I had +hidden myself from all others, since I was smitten with this +chastisement. + +"Forgive me, Pauline," he said, coming to my side. "It is the second +time I have been harsh with you this dreadful day. This is what comes of +selfishness. I hope you will forget what I have said." + +I still turned to go away, feeling afraid of him and ashamed before him. +He put out his hand to stop me. + +"Pauline, remember, I have been sorely tried. I would do anything to +comfort you. I haven't another wish in my heart but to be of use +to you." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, bursting into tears afresh, and hiding my eyes, +"if you give me up and drive me away from you, I am all alone. There +isn't another human being that I love or that cares for me. Dear +Richard, do be good to me; do be sorry for me." + +"I am sorry for you, Pauline; you know that." + +"And you will take care of me?" I cried, stretching out my arms toward +him, with a sudden overwhelming sense of my loneliness and destitution. + +"Yes, Pauline, to the end of my life or of yours; as if you were my +sister or almost my child." + +"Dear Richard," I whispered, as I buried my face on his arm, "if it were +not for you I should not live through this dreadful time. I hope I shall +die soon; as soon as I am better. But till I do die, I hope you will be +good to me, and love me." And I pressed his hand against my cheek and +lips, like the poor, frantic, grief-bewildered child that I was. + +At this moment there came a sound of movement in the stables: I heard +one of the heavy doors thrown open, and a man leading a horse across the +stable-floor. (The windows were open and the night was very still.) +Richard started, and looked uneasily at his watch, stepping to the door +to get the light. + +"How late is it?" I faltered. + +"Half-past three," he said, turning his eyes away, as if he could not +bear the sight of my face. I do not like to remember the dreadful +moments that followed this: the misery that I put upon Richard by my +passionate, ungoverned grief. I threw myself upon the floor, I clung to +his knees, I prayed him to delay the hour of going--another hour, +another day. I said all the wild and frantic things that were in my +heart, as he closed the library-door and led me to my room. + +"Try to say your prayers, Pauline," was all he could answer me. + +I did try to say them, as I knelt by the window, and saw in the dull, +gray dawn, those two carriages drive slowly from the door. + +Richard went away alone. Kilian indeed came down-stairs just as he was +starting. + +Sophie had awakened, and called him into her room for a few moments. + +Then he came down, and I saw him get into the carriage alone, and motion +the man to drive on, after that other--which stood waiting a few rods +farther on. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A JOURNEY. + + He, full of modesty and truth, + Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought. + + _Tasso_. + + + Fresh grief can occupy itself + With its own recent smart; + It feeds itself on outward things, + And not on its own heart. + + _Faber_ + + +A thing which surprises me very much in looking over those days of +suffering, is, that during that day a frightful irritability is the +emotion that I most remember--an irritability of feeling, not of +expression: for I lay quite still upon the bed all day, and only +answered, briefly and simply, the questions of Sophie and the maid. + +I could not sleep: it was many hours since I had slept: but nothing +seemed further from possibility than sleeping. The lightest sound +enraged my nerves: the approach of any one made me frantic. I lay with +my hands crushed together, and my teeth against each other, whenever +Sophie entered the room. + +She tried to be sympathetic and kind: but she was not much encouraged. +Toward afternoon, she left me a good deal alone. "I wonder how people +feel when they are going mad," I said, getting up and putting cold water +on my head. I was so engaged with the strange sensations that pursued +me, that I did not dwell upon my trouble. + +"Is this the way you feel when you are going to die? or what happens if +you never go to sleep?" My body was so young and healthy, that it was +making a good fight. + +Just at dusk, Richard returned. In a little while, about half an hour, +Sophie came and told me Richard would like to see me in her little +dressing-room. + +The day of panic and horror was over, and proprieties must begin their +sway. I felt I hated Sophie for making me go out of my own room, but I +pulled a shawl over my shoulders and followed her across the hall into +her little room. There Richard was waiting for me. He gave me a chair, +and then said, "You needn't wait, Sophie," and sat down beside me. + +Sophie went away half angry, and Richard looked at me uneasily. + +"I thought you'd want to see me," he said. + +"Yes," I answered; "I wish you'd tell me everything," but in so +commonplace a voice, I know that he was startled. + +"You do not feel well, do you? Maybe we'd better not talk about it now." + +"Oh, yes. You might as well tell me all to-night." + +"Well, everything is done. The two persons to whom I telegraphed met me +at the station. There was very little delay. I went with them to the +cemetery." + +"I am very glad of that. I thought perhaps you wouldn't go. Was there a +clergyman, or don't they have a clergyman when--when--" + +"There was a clergyman," said Richard, briefly. + +"I hope you'll take me there some time," I said dreamily. "Should you +know where to go--exactly?" + +"Exactly," he answered. "But, Pauline, I am afraid you havn't rested at +all to-day. Have you slept?" + +"No; and I wish I could; my head feels so strangely--light, you +know--and as if I couldn't think." + +"Haven't you seen the Doctor?" + +"No--and that's what I want to say. I _won't_ have the Doctor here; and +I want you to take me home to-morrow morning, early, I have put a good +many of my clothes into my trunk, and Bettina will help me with the +rest to-night. Isn't there any train before the five o'clock?" + +"No," said Richard, uneasily. "Pauline, I think you'd better not arrange +to go away to-morrow." + +"If you don't take me out of this house I shall go mad. I have been +thinking about it all day, and I know I shall." + +Richard was silent for a moment, then, with the wise instinct of +affection, wonderful in man, and in a man who had had no experience in +dealing with diseased or suffering minds, he acquiesced in my plan to +go; told me that we would take the earliest train, and interested me in +thoughts about my packing. About nine o'clock he came to my room-door, +and I heard some one with him. It was the Doctor. + +I turned upon Richard a fierce look, and said, very quietly, he might go +away, for I would not see the Doctor. After that, they tried me with +Sophie, but with less success; and, finally, Richard came back alone, +with a glass in his hand. + +"Take this, Pauline, it will make you sleep." + +I wanted to sleep very much, so I took it. + +Bettina had finished my packing, and had laid my travelling dress and +hat upon a chair. + +"Shall Bettina come and sleep on the floor, by your bed?" asked Richard, +anxiously. + +"No, I would not have her for the world." + +"Maybe you might not wake in time," said Richard, warily. + +That was very true: so I let Bettina come. Richard gave her some +instructions at the door, and she came in and arranged things for the +night, and lay down on a mattress at the foot of my bed. + +The sedative which the Doctor sent did not work very well. I had very +little sleep, and that full of such hideous, freezing dreams, that every +time I woke, I found Bettina standing by my bed, looking at me with +alarm. I had been screaming and moaning, she said, The screaming and +moaning and sleeping (such as it was), were all over in about two hours, +and then I had the rest of the night to endure, with the same strange, +light feeling in my head--the restlessness not much, but +somewhat abated. + +I was very glad that Bettina was in the room, for though she was sleepy, +and always a little stupid, she was human, and I was a coward, both in +the matter of loneliness and of suffering. I made her sit by me, and +take hold of my hand, and I asked her several times if she had ever been +with any one that died, or that--I did not quite dare to ask her about +going mad. + +My questions seemed to trouble her. She crossed herself, and shuddered, +and said, No, she had never been with any one that died, and she prayed +the good God never to let her be. + +"You'll have to be with one person that dies, Bettina. That's yourself. +You know it's got to come. We've all got to go out at that gate," and I +moaned, and turned my face away. + +"Let me call Mr. Richard," said Bettina, very much afraid. I would have +given all the world to have seen Richard then; but I knew it was +impossible, and I said, No, it would soon be morning. + +Long before morning, I heard Richard up and walking about the house. We +were to leave the house at half-past four. By four, all the trunks, and +shawls, and packages, were strapped and ready, and I was sitting +dressed, and waiting by the window. + +Bettina liked very much better to pack trunks, and put rooms in order, +than to sit still and hold a person's hot hands, in the middle of the +night, and have dreadful questions asked her; and she had been very +active and efficient. Soon Richard called her to come down and take my +breakfast up to me. I could not eat it, and it was taken away. Then the +carriage came, and the wagon to take the baggage. Finally, Richard came, +and told me it was time to start, if I were ready. + +Sophie came into the room in a wrapper, looking very dutiful and +patient, and said all that was dutiful and civil. But I suppose I was a +fiery trial to her, and she wished, no doubt, that she had never seen +me, or better, that Richard never had. All this I felt, through her +decently framed good-bye, but I did not care at all; to be out of her +sight as soon as possible, was all that I requested. + +When we went down in the hall, Richard looked anxiously at me, but I did +not feel as if I had ever been there before; I really had no feeling. I +said good-bye to Bettina, who was the only servant that I saw, and +Richard put me into the carriage. When, we drove away, I did not even +look back. As we passed out of the gate, I said to him, "What day of the +month is it to-day?" + +"It is the first of September," he returned. + +"And when did I come here?" I asked. + +"Early in June, was it not?" he said. "You know I was not here." + +"Then it is not three months," and I leaned back wearily in the +carriage, and was silent. + +Before we reached the city, Richard had good reason to think that I was +very ill. He made me as comfortable as he could, poor fellow! but I was +so restless, I could not keep in one position two minutes at a time. +Several times I turned to him and said, "It is suffocating in this car; +cannot the window be put up?" and when it was put up, I would seem to +feel no relief, and in a few moments, perhaps, would be shaking with a +nervous chill. It must have been a miserable journey, as I remember it. +Once I said to Richard, after some useless trouble I had put him to, "I +am very sorry, Richard, I don't know how to help it, I feel so +dreadfully." + +Richard tried to answer, but his voice was husky, and he bent his head +down to arrange the bundle of shawls beneath my feet. I knew that there +were tears in his eyes, and that that was the reason that he did not +speak. It made me strangely, momentarily grateful. + +"How strange that you should be so good," I said dreamily, "when Sophie +is so hateful, and Kilian is so trifling. I think your mother must have +been a good woman." + +I had never talked about Richard's mother before, never even thought +whether he had had one or not, in my supreme and light-hearted +selfishness. But the mind, at such a point as I was then, makes strange +plunges out of its own orbit. + +"And she died when you were little?" + +"Yes, when I was scarcely twelve years old." + +"A woman ought to be very good when it makes so much difference to her +children. Richard, did my uncle ever tell you anything about my +mother--what sort of a woman she was, and whether I am like her?" + +"He never said a great deal to me about it," Richard answered, not +looking at me as he talked. "He thinks you are like her, very +strikingly, I believe." + +"Think! I haven't even a scrap of a picture of her, and no one has ever +talked to me about her. All I have are some old yellow letters to my +father, written before I was born. I think she loved my father very +much. The noise of these cars makes me feel so strangely. Can't we go +into the one behind? I am sure it cannot be so bad." + +"This is the best car on the train, Pauline. I know the noise is very +bad, but try to bear it for a little while. We shall soon be there." And +so on, through the weary journey. + +At one station Richard got out, and I saw him speaking to several men. I +believe he was hoping to find a doctor, for he was thoroughly +frightened. + +Before we reached the city I was past being frightened for myself, for I +was suffering too much to think of what might be the result of my +condition. When we left the cars, and Richard put me in a carriage, the +motion of the carriage and its jarring over the stones were almost +unendurable. Richard was too anxious now to say much to me. The +expression of relief on his face as we reached Varick-street was +unspeakable. He hurried up the steps and rang the bell, then came back +for me, and half carried me up the steps. + +The door was opened by Ann Coddle, who was thrown into a helpless state +of amazement by seeing me, not knowing why in this condition I did come, +or why I came at all. She shrieked, and ejaculated, and backed almost +down the basement stairs. Richard sternly told her she was acting like a +fool, and ordered her to show him where Miss Pauline's room was, that he +might take her to it. + +"But her room isn't ready," ejaculated Ann, coming to herself, which was +a wretched thing to come to, as poor Richard found. + +"Not ready? well, make it ready, then. Go before me and open the +windows, and I will put her on the sofa till you have the bed ready +for her." + +"The sofa--oh, Mr. Richard, it's all full of her dear clothes that have +come up from the wash." + +"Well, then, take them off--idiot--and do as you are told." + +"Oh, Miss Pauline--oh, my poor, dear lamb. Oh, I'm all in a flutter; I +don't know what to do. I'd better call the cook." + +"Well, call the cook, then," said Richard, groaning, "only tell her to +be quick." + +All this time Richard was supporting me up the stairs. As we reached the +top, Richard called out, "Tell Peter I want him at once, to take a +message for me." + +Ann was watching our progress up the stairs, with groans and +ejaculations, forgetting that she was to call the cook. At the mention +of Peter she exclaimed, + +"He's laid up with the rheumatism, Mr. Richard. Oh, whatever shall we +do!" + +When we reached the middle of the second pair of stairs, I was almost +helpless; Richard took me in his arms, and carried me. + +"Is it this door, Pauline dear?" he said, opening the first he came to. + +I should think the room had not been opened since I went away, it was so +warm and close. + +Richard carried me to the sofa, and scattered the _lingerie_ far and +wide as he laid me down upon it, and went to open the windows. Then he +went to the bell and pulled it violently. In a few moments the cook came +up (accompanied by Ann). She was a huge, unwieldy woman, but she had +some intelligence, and knew better than to whimper. + +"Miss Pauline is ill," he said, "and I want you to stay by her, and not +leave her for a moment, till I come back. Make that woman get the room +in order instantly, and keep everything as quiet as you can." To me: "I +am going to bring a doctor, and I shall be back in a few moments. Do not +worry, they will take good care of you." + +When I heard Richard shut the carriage-door and drive away rapidly, I +felt as if I were abandoned, and by the time he returned with the +Doctor, I was in a state that warranted them in supposing me +unconscious, tossing and moaning, and uttering inarticulate words. + +The Doctor stood beside me, and talked about me to Richard with as much +freedom as if I had been a corpse. + +"I may as well be frank with you," he said, after a few moments of +examination. "I apprehend great trouble from the brain. How long has she +been in this condition?" + +"She has been unlike herself since yesterday; as soon as I saw her, at +seven o'clock last night, I noticed she was looking badly. She answered +me in an abstracted, odd way, and was unlike herself, as I have said. +But she had been under much excitement for some time." + +"Tell me, if you please, all about it; and how long she has been under +this excitement." + +"She has been often agitated, and quite overstrained in feeling for some +time. Three weeks ago I thought her looking badly. Two days ago she had +a frightful shock--a suicide--which she was the first to discover. Since +then I do not think that she has slept." + +"Ah! poor young lady. She has had a terrible experience, and is paying +for it. Now for what we can do for her. In the first place, who takes +care of her?" with a look about the room. + +"You may well ask. I have just brought her home, and find here, the +man-servant ill, one woman too old and inactive to perform much service, +and another to whom I would not trust her for a moment. I must ask +_you_, who shall I get to take care of her?" + +"You have no friend, no one to whom you could send in such a case? One +of life and death,--I hope you understand?" + +"None," answered Richard, with a groan. "There is not a person in the +city to whom I could send for help. All my family--all our friends, are +away. Is there no one that can be got for money--any money? no nurse +that you could recommend?" + +"I have a list of twenty. Yesterday I sent to every one, for a dangerous +case of hemorrhage, and could not find one disengaged. It may be +to-morrow night before you get on the track of one that is at liberty, +if you hunt the city over. And this girl is in need of instant care; her +life hangs on it, you must see." + +"In God's name, then," said Richard, with a groan, pacing up and down +the room, "what am I to do?" + +"In _His_ name, if you come, to that," said the Doctor, who was a good +sort of man, notwithstanding his professional cool ways, "there is a +sisterhood, that I am told offer to do things like this. I never sent to +them, for I only heard of it a short time ago; but if you have no +objection to crosses, and caps, and ritualistic nonsense in its highest +flower, I have no doubt, that they will let you have a sister, and that +she'll do good service here." + +"The direction," said Richard, too eager to be civil. "How am I to get +there?" + +The Doctor pulled over a pocket-case of loose papers, and at last found +one, which he handed his companion. + +"I give you three quarters of an hour to get back," he said. "I will +stay here till then, at all events. Do not waste any time--nor spare any +eloquence," he added to himself, as Richard hurried from the room. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SISTER MADELINE. + + Yes! it is well for us: from these alarms, + Like children scared, we fly into thine arms; + And pressing sorrows put our pride to rout + With a swift faith which has not time to doubt. + + _Faber._ + + + Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend + Towards a higher object. Love was given, + Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; + For this the passion to excess was driven--- + That self might be annulled; her bondage prove + The fetters of a dream, opposed to love. + + _Wordsworth_. + + +The next thing that I recall, is rousing from slumber, or something +related to slumber, and seeing a tall woman in the dress of a sister, +standing by my bed. It was night, and there was a lamp upon a table +near. The unusual dress, and the unfamiliarity of her whole appearance, +made me start and stare at her, half raising myself in the bed. + +"Why did you come here?" I said. "Who sent for you?" + +"I came because you were sick and suffering, and I was sent in the Name +----" and bending her head slightly, she said a Name too sacred for +these pages. + +I gave a great sigh of relief, and sank back on my pillow. Her answer +satisfied me, for I was not able to reason. I let her hold my hand; and +all through that dark and troubled time submitted to her will, and +desired her presence, and was soothed by her voice and touch. + +Sister Madeline was not at all the ideal sister, being tall and dark, +and with nothing peculiarly devotional or pensive in her cast of +feature. Her face was a fine, earnest one. Her movements were full of +energy and decision, though not quick or sharp. The whole impression +left was that of one by nature far from humility, tenderness, devotion; +but, by the force of a magnificent faith, made passionately humble, +devout from the very heart, more than humanly compassionate and tender. + +I never felt toward her as if she were "born so"--but as if she were +rescued from the world by some great effort or experience; as if it were +all "made ground," reclaimed from nature by infinite patience and +incessant labor. She lived the life of an angel upon the earth. I never +saw her, by look, by word, or tone, transgress the least of the +commandments, so wonderful was the curb she held over all her human +feelings. Nor was this perfection attained by a sudden and grand +sacrifice; the consecration of herself to the religious life was not the +"single step 'twixt earth and heaven," but it was attained by daily and +hourly study--by the practice of a hundred self-denials--by the most +accurate science of spiritual progress. + +Doubtless, saints can be made in other ways, but this is one way they +can be made, starting with a sincere intention to serve God. At least, +so I believe, from knowing Sister Madeline. + +She made a great change in my life, and I owe her a great deal. It is +not strange I feel enthusiasm for her. I cannot bear to think what my +coming back to life would have been without her. + +Of the alarming nature of my illness, I only know that there were +several days when Richard never left the house, but waited, hour after +hour, in the library below, for the news of my condition, and when even +Uncle Leonard came home in the middle of the day, and walked about the +house, silent and unapproachable. + +One night--how well I remember it! I had been convalescent, I do not +know how long; I had passed the childish state of interest in my +_bouilli_, and fretfulness about my _peignoir_; my mind had begun to +regain its ordinary power, and with the first efforts of memory and +thought had come fearful depression and despondency. I was so weak, +physically, that I could not fight against this in the least. Sister +Madeline came to my bedside, and found me in an agony of weeping. It was +not an easy matter to gain my confidence, for I thought she knew nothing +of me, and I was not equal to the mental effort of explaining myself; +she was only associated with my illness. But at last she made me +understand that she was not ignorant of a great deal that troubled me. + +"Who has told you?" I said, my heart hardening itself against Richard, +who could have spoken of my trouble to a stranger. + +"You, yourself," she answered me. + +"I have raved?" I said. + +"Yes." + +"And who has heard me?" + +"No one else. I sent every one else from the room whenever your delirium +became intelligible." + +This made me grateful toward her; and I longed for sympathy. I threw my +arms about her and wept bitterly. + +"Then you know that I can never cry enough," I said. + +"I do not know that," she answered. After a vain attempt to soothe me +with general words of comfort, she said, with much wisdom, "Tell me +exactly what thought gives you the most pain, now, at this moment." + +"The thought of his dreadful act, and that by it he has lost his soul." + +"We know with Whom all things are possible," she said, "and we do not +know what cloud may have been over his reason at that moment. Would it +comfort you to pray for him?" + +"Ought I?" I asked, raising my head. + +"I do not know any reason that you ought not," she returned. "Shall I +say some prayers for him now?" + +I grasped her hand: she took a little book from her pocket, and knelt +down beside me, holding my hand in hers. Oh, the mercy, the relief of +those prayers! They may not have done him any good, but they did me. The +hopeless grief that was killing me, I "wept it from my heart" that hour. + +"Promise me one thing," I whispered as she rose, "that you will read +that prayer, every hour during the day, to-morrow, by my bed, whether I +am sleeping or awake." + +"I promise," she said, and I am sure she kept her word, that day and +many others after it. + +During my convalescence, which was slow, I had no other person near me, +and wanted none. Uncle Leonard came in once a day, and spent a few +minutes, much to his discomfort and my disadvantage. Richard I had not +seen at all, and dreaded very much to meet. Ann Coddle fretted me, and +was very little in the room. + +Over these days there is a sort of peace. I was entering upon so much +that was new and elevating, under the guidance of Sister Madeline, and +was so entirely influenced by her, that I was brought out of my trouble +wonderfully. Not out of it, of course, but from under its crushing +weight. I know that I am rather easily influenced, and only too ready to +follow those who have won my love. Therefore, I am in every way thankful +that I came at such a time under the influence of a mind like that of +Sister Madeline. + +But the time was approaching for her to go away. I was well enough to do +without her, and she had other duties. The sick-room peace and +indulgence were over, and I must take up the burden of every-day life +again. I was very unhappy, and felt as if I were without stay +or guidance. + +"To whom am I to go when I am in doubt?" I said; "you will be so far +away." + +"That is what I want to arrange: the next time you are able to go out, I +want to take you to some one who can direct you much better than I." + +"A priest?" I asked. "Tell me one thing: will he give me absolution?" + +"I suppose he will, if he finds that you desire it." + +"What would be the use of going to him for anything else?" I said. "It +is the only thing that can give me any comfort." + +"All people do not feel so, Pauline." + +"But you feel so, dear Sister Madeline, do you not? You can understand +how I am burdened, and how I long to have the bands undone?" + +"Yes, Pauline, I can understand." + +I am not inclined to give much weight to my own opinions, and as for my +feelings, I know they were, then, those of a child, and in many ways +will always be. I can only say what comforted me, and what I longed for. +There had always been great force to me, in the Scripture that says, +"Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them, and whosesoever +sins ye retain, they are retained," even before I felt the burden of +my sins. + +I had once seen the ordination of a priest, and I suppose that added to +the weight of the words ever after in my mind. I never had any doubt of +the power then conferred, and I no sooner felt the guilt and stain of +sin upon my soul, than I yearned to hear the pardon spoken, that Heaven +offered to the penitent. I had been tangibly smitten; I longed to be +tangibly healed. + +Whatever shame and pain there was about laying bare my soul before +another, I gladly embraced it, as one poor means at my command of +showing to Him whom I had offended, that my repentance was actual, that +I stopped at no humiliation. + +It may very well be that these feelings would find no place in larger, +grander, more self-reliant natures; that what healed my soul would only +wound another. I am not prepared to think that one remedy is cure for +all diseases, but I know what cured mine. I bless God for "the soothing +hand that Love on Conscience laid." I mark that hour as the beginning of +a fresh and favored life; the dawning of a hope that has not yet +lost its power + + "to tame + The haughty brow, to curb the unchastened eye, + And shape to deeds of good each wavering aim." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE HOUR OF DAWN. + + Slowly light came, the thinnest dawn, + Not sunshine, to my night; + A new, more spiritual thing, + An advent of pure light. + + All grief has its limits, all chastenings their pause; + Thy love and our weakness are sorrow's two laws. + + +The winter that followed seemed very long and uneventful. After Sister +Madeline went away, my days settled themselves into the routine in which +they continued to revolve for many months. I was as lonely as formerly, +save for the companionship of well-chosen books, and for the direction +of another mind, which I felt to be the truest support and guidance. I +was taught to bend to my uncle's wishes, and to give up constant +church-going, and visiting among the poor, which would have been such a +resource and occupation to me. And so my life, outwardly, was very +little changed from former years--years that I had found almost +insupportable, without any sorrow; and yet, strange to say, I was +not unhappy. + +My hours were full of little duties, little rules. (I suppose my heart +was in them, or I should have found them irksome.) Above all, I was not +permitted to brood over the past: I was taught to feel that every +thought of it indulged, was a sin, and to be accounted for as such: I +could only remember the one for whom I mourned, on my knees, in my +prayers. This checked, as nothing else could have done, the morbid +tendency of grief, in a lonely, unoccupied, undisciplined mind. I was +thoroughly obedient, and bent myself with all simplicity to follow the +instructions given me. Sometimes they seemed very irrelevant and +useless, but I never rebelled against any, even one that seemed as hard +to flesh and blood as this. And I have, sooner or later, seen the wisdom +of them all, as I have worked out the problem of my correction. + +Obedient as I was, though, and simple as the routine of my life +continued, sometimes there came crises that were beyond my strength. + +I can remember one; it was a furious storm--a day that nailed one in the +house. There was something in the rage without that disturbed me; I +wandered about the house, and found myself unable to settle to any task. +Some one to speak to! Oh, it was so dreary to be alone. I went into my +uncle's room where there were many books. Among those that were there I +found one in French, (I have no idea how it came there, I am sure my +uncle had never read it.) I carelessly turned it over, and finally +became absorbed in it. I came upon this passage: + + Quel plus noir abime d'angoisse y a-t-il an monde que le + coeur d'un suicide? Quand le malheur d'un homme est du a + quelque circonstance de sa vie, on pent esperer de l'en voir + delivrer par un changement qui pent survenir dans sa + position. Mais lorsque ce malheur a sa source en lui; quand + c'est l'ame elle-meme qui est le tourment de l'ame; la vie + elle-meme qui est le fardeau de la vie; que faire, que de + reconnaitre en gemissant qu'il n'y a rien a faire--rien, + selon le monde; et qu'un tel homme, plus a plaindre que ce + prisonnier que l'histoire nous peint dans les angoisses de la + faim, se repaissant de sa propre chair, est reduit a devorer + la substance meme de son ame dans les horreurs de son + desespoir. Et qu'imagine-t-il done pour echapper a lui-meme, + comme a son plus cruel ennemi? Je ne dis pas: 'Ou ira-t-il + loin de l'esprit de Dieu? ou fuira-t-il loin de sa face?' Je + demande, ou ira-t-il loin de son propre esprit? ou fuira-t-il + loin de sa propre face? Ou descendra-t-il qu'il ne s'y suive + lui-meme; ou se cachera-t-il qu'il ne s'y trouve encore? + Insense, dont la folie egale la misere, quand tu te seras + tue, on dira: 'Il est mort;' mais ce sont les autres qui le + diront; ce ne sera pas toi-meme. Tu seras mort pour ton + pays, mort pour ta ville, mort pour ta famille; mais pour + toi-meme, pour ce qui pense en toi, helas! pour ce qui + souffre en toi, tu vivras toujours. + + Et comment ne sens-tu pas, que pour cesser d'etre malheureux, + ce n'est pas ta place qu'il faut changer, c'est ton coeur. + Que tu disparaisses sous les flots, qu'un plomb meurtrier + brise ta tete, ou qu'un poison subtil glace tes veines; quoi + que tu fasses, et ou que tu ailles, tu n'y peux aller qu'avec + toi-meme, qu'avec ton coeur, qu'avec ta misere! Que dis-je? + Tu y vas avec un compte de plus a rendre, a la rencontre du + grand Dieu qui doit te juger; tu y vas avec l'eternite de + plus pour souffrir, et le temps de moins pour te repentir! + + A moins que tu ne penses peut-etre, parceque l'oeil de + l'homme n'a rien vu au-dela de la tombe, que cette vie n'ait + pas de suite. Mais non, tu ne saurais le croire! Quand tous + les autres le penseraient, toi, tu ne le pourrais pas. Tu as + une preuve d'immortalite qui t'appartient en propre. Cette + tristesse qui te consume, est quelque chose de trop intime et + de trop profond pour se dissoudre avec tes organes, et ce qui + est capable de tant souffrir ne pent pas s'aller perdre dans + la terre. Les vers heriteront de la poussiere de ton corps, + mais l'amertume de ton ame, qui en heritera? Ces extases + sublimes, ces tourments affreux; ces hauteurs des cieux, ces + profondeurs des abimes; qu'y a-t-il d'assez grand ou d'assez + abaisse, d'assez eleve ou d'assez avili pour les revetir en + ta place? Non, tu ne saurais jamais croire que tout meurt + avec le corps; ou si tu le pouvais tu n'en serais que plus + insense, plus miserable encore. + +It is proof how child-like I had been, how obedient in suppressing all +forbidden thoughts, that these words smote me with such horror. I had +indulged in no speculation; I had never thought of him as haunted by the +self he fled; as still bound to an inexorable and inextinguishable life, + + "With time and hope behind him cast, + And all his work to do with palsied hands and cold." + +The terrors I had had, had been vague. I had thought dimly of +punishment, more keenly of separation. If I had analysed my thoughts, I +suppose I should have found annihilation to have been my belief--death +forever, loss eternal. But this--if this were truth--(and it smote me as +the truth alone can smite), oh, it was maddening. To my knees! To my +knees! Oh, that I might live long years to pray for him! Oh, that I +might stretch out my hands to God for him, withered with age and shrunk +with fasting, and strong but in faith and final perseverance! Oh, it +could not be too late! What was prayer made for, but for a time like +this? What was this little breath of time, compared with the Eternal +Years, that we should only speak _now_ for each other to our merciful +God, and never speak for each other afterward? Spirits are forever; and +is prayer only for the days of the body? + +It was well for me that none of the doubts that are so often expressed +had found any lodgment in my brain; if I had not believed that I had a +right to pray for him, and that my prayers might help him, I cannot +understand how I could have lived through those nights and days +of thought. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +APRSE PERDRE, PERD ON BIEN. + + What to those who understand + Are to-day's enjoyments narrow, + Which to-morrow go again, + Which are shared with evil men, + And of which no man in his dying + Taketh aught for softer lying? + + +It was now early spring: the days were lengthening and were growing +soft. Lent (late that year) was nearly over. I had begun to think much +about the summer, and to wonder if I were to pass it in the city. There +was one thing that the winter had developed in me, and that was, a sort +of affection for my uncle. I had learned that I owed him a duty, and had +tried to find ways of fulfilling it; had taken a little interest in the +house, and had tried to make him more comfortable. Also I had prayed +very constantly for him, and perhaps there is no way more certain of +establishing an affection, or at least a charity for another, than that. + +In return, he had been a little more human to me than formerly, had +shown some interest in my health, and continued appreciation of the fact +that I was in the house. Once he had talked to me, for perhaps half an +hour, about my mother, for which I was unspeakably grateful. Several +times he had given me a good deal of money, which I had cared much less +about. Latterly he had permitted me to go to church alone, which had +seemed to me must be owing to Richard's intervention. + +Richard had been almost as much as formerly at the house: my uncle was +becoming more and more dependent on him. For myself, I did not see as +much of him as the year before. We were always together at the table, of +course. But the evenings that Richard was with my uncle, I thought it +unnecessary for me to stay down-stairs. Besides, now, they almost always +had writing or business affairs to occupy them. + +It was natural that I should go away, and no one seemed to notice it. +Richard still brought me books, still arranged things for me with my +uncle (as in the matter of going to church alone), but we had no more +talks together by ourselves, and he never asked me to go anywhere with +him. At Christmas he sent me beautiful flowers, and a picture for my +room. Sophie I rarely saw, and only longed never to see Benny was +permitted to come and spend a day with me, at great intervals, and I +enjoyed him more than his mother or his uncle. + +One day my uncle went down to his office in his usual health; at three +o'clock he was brought home senseless, and only lived till midnight, +dying without recovering speech or consciousness. It was a sudden +seizure, but what everybody had expected; everybody was shocked for the +moment, and then wondered that they were. It was very appalling to me; I +was so unhappy, I almost believed I loved him, and I certainly mourned +for him with simplicity and affection. + +The preparations for the funeral were so frightful, and all the thoughts +it brought so unnerving, that I was almost ill. A great deal came upon +me, in trying to manage the wailing servants, and in helping Richard in +arrangements. + +It was the day after the funeral; I was tired, out, and had lain down on +the sofa in the dining-room, partly because I hated to be alone +up-stairs, and partly because it was not far from lunch-time, and I felt +too weary to take any needless steps. I don't think ever in my life +before I had lain down on that sofa, or had spent two hours except, at +the table, in that room. It was a most cheerless room, and no one ever +thought of sitting down in it, except at mealtime. I closed the shutters +and darkened it to suit my eyes, which ached, and I think must have +fallen asleep. + +The parlor was the room which adjoined the dining-room (only two large +rooms on one floor, as they used to build), and separated from it by +heavy mahogany columns and sliding-doors. These doors were half-way +open, and I was roused by voices in the parlor. As soon as I recovered +myself from the sudden waking, I recognized Sophie's and then Richard's. +I wondered what Richard was doing up-town at that hour, and so Sophie +did too, for she asked him very plainly. + +"I thought I ought to come to see Pauline," she said, "but I did not +suppose I should find you here in the middle of the day." + +"There is something that I've got to see Pauline about at once," he +said, "and so I was obliged to come up-town." + +"Nothing has happened?" she said interrogatively. + +"No," he answered, evasively. + +But she went on: "I suppose it's something in relation to the will; I +hope she's well provided for, poor thing." + +"Sophie," said her brother, with a change of tone, "You'll have to hear +it some time, and perhaps you may as well hear it now. It is that that I +have come up-town about; there has been some strange mistake made; there +is no will." + +"No will!" echoed Sophie, "Why, you told me once--" + +"That he had left her everything. So he told me twice last year; so I +have always believed to be the case. Since the day he died, the most +faithful search has been made; there is not a corner of his office, of +his library, of his room, that I have not hunted through. He was so +methodical in business matters, so exact in the care of his papers, that +I had little hope, after I had gone through his desk. I cannot +understand it. It is altogether dark to me." + +"What can have made him change his mind about it, Richard? Can he have +heard anything about last summer?" + +"Not from me, Sophie. But I have sometimes thought he knew, from +allusions that he has made to her mother's marriage, more than once +this winter." + +"He was very angry about that, at the time, I suppose?" + +"Yes, I imagine so. The man she married was poor, and a foreigner: two +things he hated. I never heard there was anything against him but +his poverty." + +"How can he have heard about Mr. Langenau?" said Sophie, musingly. + +"I think Pauline must have told him," said Richard. + +"Pauline? never. She is much too clever; she never told him. You may be +quite sure of _that_." + +"Pauline clever! Poor Pauline!" said Richard, with a short, sarcastic +laugh, which had the effect of making Sophie angry. + +"I am willing," she said, "that she should be as stupid and as good as +you can wish--. To whom does the money go?" she added, as if she had not +patience for the other subject. + +"To a brother, with whom he had a quarrel, and whom he had not seen for +over sixteen years." + +"Incredible!" + +"But there had been some sort of a reconciliation, at least an exchange +of letters, within these three months past." + +"Ah!" + +"And it is in consequence of hearing from him, and being pressed by his +lawyer for an immediate settlement of the estate, that I have come up to +tell Pauline, and to prepare her for her changed prospects." + +"And what do you propose to advise?" asked Sophie, with a chilling +voice. + +"Heaven knows, Sophie," answered her brother, with a heavy sigh. "I see +nothing ahead for the poor girl, but loneliness and trial. She is +utterly unfit to struggle with the world. And she has not even a shelter +for her head." + +"Richard," interrupted his sister, with intensity of feeling in her +voice, "I see what you are trying to persuade yourself: do not tell me, +after what has passed, you still feel that you are bound to her--" + +"_Bound!_" exclaimed Richard, with a vehemence most strange in him, as, +pacing the room, he stood still before his sister. His back was toward +me. She was so absorbed she did not see me as I darted past the +folding-doors into the hall. As I flew panting up to my own room, I +remember one feeling above all others, the first feeling of affection +toward the house that I had ever had. It was mine no longer, my home +never again; I had no right to stay in it a moment: my own room was not +mine any more--the room where I had learned to pray, and to try to lead +a good life--the room where I had lain when I was so near to death--the +room where Sister Madeline had led me to such peaceful, quiet thoughts. +I had but one wish now, not to see Richard, to escape Sophie, to get +away forever from this house to which I had no right. I pulled down my +hat and my street things, and dressed so quickly, that I had slipped +down the stairs, and out into the street, before they had ceased talking +in the parlor. I heard their voices, very low, as I passed through the +hall. I fully meant never to come back to the house again--not to be +turned out. + +My heart swelled as the door closed behind me. It was dreadful not to +have a home. I was so unused to being in the street alone, that I felt +frightened when I reached the cars and stopped them. + +I was going to Sister Madeline. She would take me, and keep me, and +teach me where to live, and how. I was a little confused, and got out at +the wrong street, and had to walk several blocks before I reached +the house. + +The servant at the door met me with an answer that made me wonder +whether there were anything else to happen to me on that day. + +Sister Madeline had been called away--had gone on a long +journey--something about the illness of her brother; and I must not come +inside the door, for a contagious disease was raging, and the orders +were strict that no one be admitted. I had walked so fast, and in such +excitement of feeling, that I was weak and faint when I turned to go +down the steps. Where should I go? I walked on slowly now, and +undecided, for I had no aim. + +The clergyman to whom I had gone for direction in matters spiritual, was +ill--for two weeks had given up even Lenten duties. Anything--but I +could not go home, or rather where home had been. I walked and walked +till I was almost fainting, and found myself in the Park. There the +lovely indications of spring, and the quiet, and the fresh air, soothed +me, and I sat down under some trees near the water, and rested myself. +But the same giddy whirl of thoughts came back, the same incompetency to +deal with such strange facts, and the same confusion. I do not know how +long I wandered about; but I was faint and weary and hungry, and +frightened too, for people were beginning to look at me. + +It began to force itself upon me that I must go back to Varick-street +after all, and take a fresh start. Then I began to think how I should +get back, on which side must I go to find the cars--where was I, +literally. Then I sat down to wait, till I should see some policeman, or +some kind-looking person, near me, to whom I could apply for this very +necessary information. In the meantime I took out my purse to see if I +had the proper change. Verily, not that, nor any change at all! My heart +actually stood still. Yes, it was very true: I had given away, right +and left, during this Lent: caring nothing for money, and being very +sure of more when this was gone. I was literally penniless. I had not +even the money to ride home in the cars. + +Till a person has felt this sensation, he has not had one of the most +remarkable experiences of life. To know where you can get money, to feel +that there is some _dernier ressort_ however hateful to you, is one +thing; but to _know_ that you have not a cent--not a prospect of getting +one--not a hope of earning one--no means of living--this is suffocation. +This is the stopping of that breath that keeps the world alive. + +The bench on which I happened to be sitting was one of those pretty, +little, covered seats, which jut out into the lake. I looked down into +the water as I sat with my empty purse in my lap, and remembered vaguely +the many narratives I had seen in the newspapers about unaccounted-for +and unknown suicides. I could see how it might be inevitable--a sort of +pressure, a fatality that might not be resisted. Even cowardice might be +overcome when that pressure was put on. + +It is a very amazing thing to feel that you have no money, nor any means +of getting even eightpence: it chokes you: you feel as if the wheel had +made its last revolution, and there was no power to make it turn again. +It is not any question of pride, or of independence, when it comes +suddenly; it is a feeling of the inevitable; you do not turn to others. +You feel your individual failure, and you stand alone. + +For myself, this was my reflection: I had not even a shelter for my +head; Richard had said so. I had not a cent of money, and I had no means +of earning any. The uncle who was coming to take possession of the house +and furniture, was one whom I had been taught to distrust and dread. He +would, perhaps, not even let me go into my room again, and would turn me +out to-morrow, if he came: my clothes--were _they_ even mine, or would +they be given to me, if they were? This uncle had reproached Uncle +Leonard once for what he had done for me. I had even an idea that it was +about my mother's marriage that the quarrel had occurred. And hard as I +had regarded Uncle Leonard, he had been the soft-hearted one of the +brothers, who had sheltered the little girl (after he had thrown off the +mother, and broken her poor heart). + +The house in Varick-street would be broken up. What would become of the +cook, and Ann Coddle? It would be easier for them to live than for me. + +They could get work to do, for they knew how to work, and people would +employ them. I--I could do nothing, I had been taught to do nothing. I +had never been directed how to hem a handkerchief. I had tried to dust +my room one day, and the effort had tired me dreadfully, and did not +look very well, as a result. I could not teach. I had been educated in a +slipshod way, no one directing anything about it--just what it occurred +to the person who had charge of me to put before me. + +I had intended to throw myself upon Sister Madeline. But what then? What +could she have done for me? I had asked her months before if I could not +be a sister, and had been discouraged both by her and by my director. I +believe they thought I was too young and too pretty, and, in fact, had +no vocation. No doubt they thought I might soon look upon things +differently, when my trouble was a little older. + +And Richard--I did not give Richard many thoughts that day, for my heart +was sore, when I remembered all his words. He had always thought that I +was to be rich; perhaps that had made him so long patient with me. He +had said I was not clever; he had seemed to be very sorry for me. He +might well be. Sophie had asked him if he were still bound to me. I had +not heard all his answer, but he had spoken in a tone of scorn. I did +not want to think about him. + +There was no whither to turn myself for help. And the clergyman, who had +been more than kind to me, who had seemed to help me with words and +counsel out of heaven,--he was cut off from my succor, and I stood +alone--I, who was so dependent, so naturally timid, and so +easily mistaken. + +It was a dreary hour of my life, that hour that I sat looking over at +the water of the pretty placid lake. I don't like to recall it. Some one +passed by me, gave an exclamation of surprise, and came back hastily. It +was Richard. He seemed so glad, and so relieved to see me--and to me it +was like Heaven opening; notwithstanding my vindictive thoughts about +him, I could have sprung into his arms; I felt protected, safe, the +moment he was by me. I tried to speak, and then began to cry. + +"I've been looking for you these last two hours," he said, sitting down +beside me. "I came up-town to see you, and found you had gone out. I +thought you would not be likely to go anywhere but to see Sister +Madeline, and there the servant told me you had come this way. I could +not find you here, and went back to Varick-street, then was frightened +at hearing you had not come back, and returned again to look for you. +What made you stay so long? Something has happened. Tell me what you are +crying for." + +I had no talent for acting, and not much discretion when I was excited; +and he found out very soon that I knew what had befallen me. (I think he +believed that Sophie had told me of it.) + +"Were you very much surprised?" he said. "Had you supposed that you +would be his heiress?" + +"Why, no. I had not thought anything about it. I am afraid I have not +thought much about anything this winter. I must have been very +ungrateful, as well as childish, for I never have felt as if it were +fortunate that I had a home, and as much money as I wanted. I did not +care anything about being rich, you know--ever." + +"No, I know you did not. I was sure you would have been satisfied with a +very moderate provision." + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, clasping my hands together, "if he had left me a +little--just a little--just a few hundred dollars, when he had so much, +to have kept me from having to work, when I don't know how to work, and +am such a child." + +"Work!" he exclaimed, looking down at me as if I were something so +exquisite and so precious, that the very thought was profanation. +"Work! no, Pauline, you shall not have to work." + +"But what can I do?" I said, "I have nothing--and you know it; not a +shelter; not the money to pay for my breakfast to-morrow morning. Not a +person to whom I have a right to go for help; not a human being who is +bound to care for me. Oh, I don't care what becomes of me; I wish that +it were time for me to die." + +Richard got up, and paced up and down the little platform with an +absorbed look. + +"It was so strange," I went on, "when he seemed this winter to take a +little notice of me, and to want to have me near him. I really almost +thought he cared for me. And when I was so ill last Fall, don't you +remember how often he used to come up to my room?" + +"I remember--yes. It is all very strange." + +"And some days early in the winter, when I could scarcely speak at +table, I was so unhappy, he would look at me so long, and seem to think. +And then would be very kind and gentle afterward, and do something to +show he liked me--give me money, you know, as he always did." + +"Tell me, Pauline: did he ever ask you anything about last summer, or +did you ever tell him?" + +"No, Richard, I could never have spoken to him about it; and he never +asked me. But I know he saw that I was not happy." + +"Pauline," said Richard, after a pause, and as if forcing himself to +speak, "there is no use in disguising from you what your position is: +you know it yourself, enough of it, at least, to make you understand why +I speak now. I don't know of any way out of it, but one; and I feel as +if it were ungenerous to press that on you now, and, Heaven knows, I +would not do it if I could think of anything else to offer to you. You +know, Pauline, that if you will marry me, you will have everything that +you need, as much as if your uncle had left you everything." + +He did not look at me, but paced up and down the platform, and spoke +with a thick, husky voice. + +"You know it's been the object of my life, ever since I knew you, but I +don't want that to influence you. I know it is too soon, a great deal +too soon. And I would not have done it, if I could have seen anything +else to do, or if you could have done without me." + +I must have been deadly pale, for when at last he looked at me, he +started. + +"I don't know how it is," he said, with a groan, "I always have to give +you pain, when, Heaven knows, I'd give my life to spare you every +suffering. I can't see any other way to take care of you than the way I +tell you of, and yet, I have no doubt you think me cruel, and selfish, +to ask you to do it now. It does seem so, and yet it is not. If you knew +how much it has cost me to speak, you would believe it." + +"I do believe it," I said, trying to command my voice. "I think you have +always been too good and kind to me. But I can't tell you how this makes +me feel. Oh, Richard, isn't there any, any other way?" + +"Perhaps there may be," he said, with a bitter and disappointed look, +"but I do not know of it." + +"Oh, Richard, do not be angry with me. Think how hard it is for me +always to be disappointing you. I have a great deal of trouble!" + +"Yes, Pauline, I know you have," he said, sitting down by me, and taking +my hand in a repentant way. "You see I'm selfish, and only looked at my +own disappointment just that minute. I thought I had not any hope that +you might not mind the idea of marrying me; but you see, after all, I +had. I believe I must have fancied that you were getting over your +trouble: you have seemed so much brighter lately. But now I know the +truth; and now I know that what I do is simply sacrifice and duty. A man +must be a fool who looks for pleasure in marrying a woman who has no +love for him. And I say now, in the face of it all, marry me, Pauline, +if you can bring yourself to do it. I am the only approach to a friend +that you have in the world. As your husband, I can care for you and +protect you. You are young, your character is unformed, you are ignorant +of the world. You have no home, no protection, literally none, and I am +afraid to trust you. You need not be angry if I say so. I think I've +earned the right to find some faults in you. I don't expect you to love +me. I don't expect to be particularly happy; but there are a good many +ways of serving God and doing one's duty; and if we try to serve him and +to live for duty, it will all come out right at last. You will be a +happier woman, Pauline, if you do it, than if you rebel against it, and +try to find some other way, and put yourself in a subordinate place, or +a place of dependence, and waste your life, and expose yourself to +temptation. No, no, Pauline, I cannot see you do it. Heaven knows, I +wish you had somebody else to direct you. But it has all come upon me, +and I must do the best I can. I think any one else would advise the +same, who had the same means of judging." + +"I will do just what you think best," I said, almost in a whisper, +getting up. + +"That is right," he answered, in a husky voice, rising too, and putting +my cloak about my shoulders, which had fallen off. "You will see it +will be best." + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +A GREAT DEAL TOO SOON. + + But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, + Are governed with a goodly modesty, + That suffers not a look to glance away, + Which may let in a little thought unsound. + + _Spenser_. + + + Vouloir ce que Dieu veut est la seule science + Qui nous met en repos. + + _Malherbe_. + + +Richard had obtained for me (with difficulty), from the lawyer of the +new uncle who had arisen, the privilege of remaining in the house for +another month, undisturbed in any way. At the end of those four weeks I +was to be married to him, one day, quietly in church, and to go away. It +was very hard to have to see Sophie, and be treated with ignominy, for +doing what I did not want to do; it was very hard to make preparations +to leave the only place I wanted to stay in now; it was very hard to be +tranquil and even, while my heart was like lead. But I had begun to +discover that that was the general order of things here below, and it +did not amaze me as it had done at first. I was doing my duty, to the +best of my discernment, and was not to be deterred by all the lead in +the world. + +It was very well for Richard to say, he did it for sacrifice and for +duty. I have no doubt at first he did it greatly for those two things: +but he grew happier every day, I could see. He was very considerate of +my sadness, and always acted on the basis on which our engagement was +begun, never keeping my hand in his, or kissing me, or asking any of the +trifling favors of a lover. + +He was grave and silent: but I could see the change in his face; I could +see that he was more exacting of every moment that I spent away from +him; he kept near me, and followed me with his eyes, and seemed never to +be satisfied with his possession of me. + +He bought me the most beautiful jewels, (he had made great strides +toward fortune in the last six months, and was a rich man now in +earnest,) and though he never clasped them on my throat or wrist, nor +even fitted a ring on my finger, I could feel his eyes upon me, +hungering for a smile, a word of gratitude. + +And who would not have been grateful? But it was "too soon, a great deal +too soon," as he had said himself. I was very grateful, but I would +have been glad to die. + +I have wondered whether he saw it or not, I rather think not. I was very +submissive and gentle, and tried to be bright, and I think he was so +absorbed in the satisfaction of my promise, so intent upon his plans for +making me happy, and for making me love him, that he made himself +believe there was no heart of lead below the tranquillity he saw. + +It was the third week since my uncle's death. The next week was to come +the marriage, on Wednesday, the 19th of May. + +"Marriages in May are not happy," said Ann Coddle. + +"I did not need you to tell me that," I thought. + +It was on Thursday, the 13th; Richard had come up a little earlier, in +the evening. It grew to be a little earlier every evening. + +"By-and-by he will not go down-town at all, at this rate," I said to +myself, when I heard his ring that night. + +I was sitting by the parlor-lamp, with the evening paper in my lap, of +which I had not read a word. He came and sat down by the table, and we +talked a little while. I tried to find things to talk about, and +wondered if it always would be so. I felt as if some day I should give +out entirely, and have to go through bankruptcy. (And take a +fresh start.) + +He never seemed to feel the want of talking; I suppose he was quite +satisfied with his thoughts, and with having me beside him. + +By-and-by, he said he should have to go up to the library, and look over +the last of some books of my uncle's, and finish an inventory that he +had begun. Could I not bring my work and sit there by him? I felt a +little selfish, for we were already on the last week, and I said I +thought I would sit in the parlor. I had to write a letter to Sister +Madeline. I had not heard a word from her yet, though I had +written twice. + +Why could not I write in the library? + +I always liked to be alone when I wrote letters: I could not think, when +any one was in the room. Besides, trying to smile, he would be sure +to talk. + +He looked disappointed, and lingered a good while before he went away. +As he rose to go away he threw into my lap a little package, saying, + +"There is some white lace for you. Can't you use it on some of your +clothes? I don't know anything about such things: maybe it isn't pretty +enough, but I thought perhaps it would do for that lilac silk you +talked of." + +I opened the package: it was exquisite, fit for a princess; and as I +bent over it, I thought, how dead I must be, that it gave me no pleasure +to know it was my own, for I had loved such baubles so, a year ago. + +"What a mass of it!" I exclaimed, unfolding yard on yard. + +"You must always wear lace," he said, throwing one end of it over my +black dress around the shoulder. "I like you in it. I am tired of those +stiff little linen collars." + +The lace had given me a little compunction about not spending the +evening with him: but as I had said so, I could not draw back; so I +compromised the matter by going up to the library with him, to see that +he was comfortable, before I came down to write my letter. + +I brought the little student-lamp from my own room and lit it, and put +it on the library-table, and brought him some fresh pens, and opened the +inkstand for him, even pushed up the chair and put a little footstool by +it. Though he was standing by the bookshelves, and seemed to be +engrossed by them, I knew that he was watching me, filled with content +and satisfaction. + +"Do you remember where that box of cigars was put?" he said, turning to +me as I paused. That was to keep me longer; for they were on the shelf, +half a yard from where he stood. + +I got the cigar-box and put it on the table. + +"Now you will want some matches, and this stand is almost empty." So I +took it away with me to my room, and came back with it filled. + +"Is there anything else that I can do?" I said, pausing as I put it on +the table. + +"No, Pauline. I believe not. Thank you." + +I think that moment Richard was nearer to happiness than he had ever +been before. Poor fellow! + +I went down-stairs, feeling quite easy in mind, and sat down to my +letter. That threw me back into the past, for to Sister Madeline I +poured out my heart. An hour went by, and I had forgotten Richard and +the library. I was recalled to the present by hearing some books fall on +the floor (the library was over the parlor); and by hearing Richard's +step heavily crossing the room. I started up, pushed my letter into my +portfolio, and wiped away my tears, quite frightened that Richard should +see me crying. To my surprise, he came hurriedly down the stairs, passed +the parlor-door, opened the hall-door, and shutting it heavily after +him, was gone, without a word to me. This startled me for a moment, it +was so unusual. But my heart was not enough engaged to be wounded by the +slight, and I very soon returned to my letter and my other thoughts. + +When I went up to bed, I stopped in the library, and found the lamp +still burning, the pens unused, a cigar, which had been lighted, but +unsmoked, lying on the table. A book was lying on the floor at the foot +of the bookshelf, where I had left Richard standing. I picked it up. +"This was the last book that Uncle Leonard ever read," I said to myself, +turning its pages over. I remembered that he had it in his hand the last +night of his life, when I bade him goodnight. I was not in the room the +next day, till he was brought home in a dying state. + +Ann had put the books in order, and arranged them, after he went +down-town in the morning. + +I wondered whether Richard knew that that was the last book he had been +reading, and I put it by, to tell him of it in the morning when he came. +But in the morning Richard did not come. Unusual again; and I was for an +hour or two surprised. He always found some excuse for coming on his way +down-town: and it was very odd that he should not want to explain his +sudden going away last night. But, as before, my lack of love made the +wound very slight, and in a little time I had forgotten all about it, +and was only thinking that this was Friday--and that Wednesday was +coming very near. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A REVERSAL + + All this is to be sanctified, + This rupture with the past; + For thus we die before our deaths, + And so die well at last. + + _Faber_. + + +Dinner-time came, and passed, and still Richard did not come. At eight +o'clock Ann brought the tea, as usual, and it stood nearly an hour upon +the table; and then I told her to take it away. + +By this time I had begun to feel uneasy. Something must have happened. +It would necessarily be something uncomfortable, perhaps something that +would frighten me, and give me another shock. And I dreaded that so; I +had had so many. But perhaps, dreadful though it might be, it would +bring me a release. Perhaps Richard was only angry with me, and _that_ +might bring me a release. + +At nine o'clock I heard a ring at the bell, and then his step in the +hall. He was slower than usual in coming in; everything made me feel +confused and apprehensive. When he opened the door and entered, I was +trying to command myself, but I forgot all about myself when I saw +_him_. His face was white, and he looked haggard and harassed, as if he +had gone through a year of suffering since last night, when I left him +with the lamp and cigar in the library. + +I started up and put out my hand. "What is it, Richard? You are in some +trouble." + +He said no, and tried to speak in an ordinary tone, sitting down on the +sofa by my chair. + +I was confused and thrown back by this, and tried to talk as if nothing +had been said. + +"Will you have a cup of tea?" I asked; "Ann has just taken it away." + +He said absently, yes, and I rang for Ann to bring the tea, and then +went to the table to pour it out. + +He sat with his face leaning on his hand on the arm of the sofa, and did +not seem to notice me till I carried the cup to him, and offered it. +Then he started, and looked up and took it, asking my pardon, and +thanking me. + +"Are you not going to have one yourself?" he said, half rising. + +"No, I don't want any to-night. Tell me if yours is right." + +"Yes, it is very nice," he said absently, drinking some. Then rising +suddenly, he put the cup on the mantleshelf, and said to me, "Send Ann +away, I want to talk to you." + +I told Ann I would ring for her when I wanted her, and sat down by the +lamp again, with many apprehensions. + +"You asked me if anything had happened, Pauline, didn't you?" he said. + +"No," I answered. "But I was sure that something had, from the way you +looked when you came in." + +"It is something that--that changes things very much for you, Pauline," +he resumed, with an effort, "and makes all our arrangements +unnecessary--that is, unless you choose." + +I looked amazed and frightened, and he went on. + +"I made a discovery last night in the library. The will is found, +Pauline." + +I started to my feet, with my hands pressed against my heart, waiting +breathlessly for his next word. + +"Everything is left to you--and I have come to tell you, you are +free--if you desire to be." + +"Oh, thank God! Thank God!" I cried; then covering my face with my +hands, sank back into my seat, and burst into tears. + +He turned from me and walked to the other end of the room; each of us +lived much in that little time. + +For myself, I had accepted my bondage so meekly, so dutifully, that I +did not know the weight it had been upon me till it was suddenly taken +off. I did not think of him--I could only think, there was no next +Wednesday, and I could stay where I was. It was like the sudden +cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it was Heaven. I was +crying for joy. But at last the reaction came, and I had to think +of him. + +"Oh, Richard," I cried, going toward him, (he was sitting by the window, +and his hand concealed his eyes.) "I don't know what you think of me, I +hope you can forgive me." + +He did not speak, and I felt a dreadful pang of self-reproach. + +"Richard," I said, crying, and taking hold of his hand, "I am ashamed of +myself for being glad. I will marry you yet, if you want me to. I know +how good you have been to me. I know I am ungrateful and abominable." + +Still he did not speak. His very lips were white, and his hand, when I +touched it, did not meet mine or move. + +"You are angry with me," I cried, bursting into a flood of tears. "Oh, +how you ought to hate me. Oh, I wish we had never seen each other. I +wish I had been dead before I brought you all this trouble. Richard, do +look at me--do speak to me. Don't you believe that I am sorry? Don't you +know I will do anything you want me to?" + +He seemed to try to speak--moved a little, as a person in pain might do, +but, bending his head a little lower on his hand, was silent still. + +"Richard," I said, after several moments' silence, speaking +thoughtfully--"it has all come to me at last. I begin to see what you +have been to me always, and how badly I have treated you. But it must +have been because I was very young, and did not think. I am sure my +heart was not so bad, and I mean to be different now. You know I have +not had any one to teach me. Will you let me try and make you happy?" + +"No, Pauline," he said at last, speaking with effort. "It is all over +now, and we will never talk of it again." + +I was silent for many minutes--standing before him with irresolution. +"If it was right for me to marry you before," I said at last, "Why is it +not right now, if I mean to do my duty?" + +"No, it is no longer right, if it ever was," he answered. "I will not +take advantage of your sense of duty now, as I was going to take +advantage of your necessity before. No, you are free, and it is all +at an end." + +"You are unjust to yourself. You were not taking advantage of my +necessity. You were saving me, and I am ashamed of myself when I think +of everything. Oh, Richard, where did you learn to be so good!" + +A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned away from me. + +"If you give me up," I said timidly, "who will take care of me?" + +"There will be plenty now," he answered bitterly. + +"There wasn't anybody yesterday." + +"But there will be to-morrow. No, Pauline," he said, lifting his head +and speaking in a firmer voice, "What I thought I was doing, till this +showed me my heart, and how I had deceived myself, I will do now, even +if it kills me. I thought I was acting for your good, and from a sense +of duty: now that I know what is for your good, and what is my duty, I +will go on in that, and nothing shall turn me from it, so help +me Heaven." + +"At least you will forgive me," I said, with tears, "for all the things +that I have made you suffer." + +"Yes," he said, with some emotion, "I shall forgive you sooner than I +shall forgive myself. I cannot see that you have been to blame." + +"Ah," I cried, hiding my face with shame, when I thought of all my +selfishness and indifference, and the return I had made him for his +devoted love. "I know how I have been to blame; and I am going to pay +you for your goodness and care by breaking your heart for you--by +upsetting all your plans. Oh, Richard! You had better let it all go on! +Think how everybody knows about it!" + +He shook his head. "I don't care a straw for that," he said. And I am +sure he did not. + +"No," he said firmly, getting up, and walking up and down the room; "it +is all over, and we must make the best of it. I shall still have +everything to do for you under the will; and while you mustn't expect me +to see you often, just for the present time, at least, you know I shall +do everything as faithfully as if nothing had occurred. You must write +to me whenever you think my judgment or advice would do you any good. +And I shall be always looking after things that you don't understand, +and taking care of your interests, whether you hear from me or not. +You'll always be sure of that, whatever may occur." + +"Oh," I faltered, with a sudden frightened feeling of loneliness and +loss, in the midst of my new freedom, "I can't feel as if it were +all over." + +"I don't know how this terrible mistake about the will occurred," he +went on, without noticing what I said: "it was only a--mercy that I +found it when I did. It was between the leaves of a book, an old volume +of Tacitus; I took it down to look at the title for the inventory, and +it fell out." + +"That was the book he had in his hand when I saw him last, that night +before he died." + +"Yes? Then after you went up-stairs I suppose he was thinking of you, +and he took out the will to read it over, and maybe left it out, meaning +to lock it up again in the morning." + +"And in the morning he was not well," I said, "and perhaps went away +leaving it lying on the book; I remember, Ann said there were several +papers lying on the table, when she arranged the room." + +"No doubt," said Richard, "she shut it up in the book it laid on, and +put it on the shelf. But it is all one how it came about. The will is +all correct and duly executed. One of the witnesses was a clerk, who +returned yesterday from South America, where he had been gone for +several months. The other is lying ill at his home in Westchester, but I +have sent to-day and had his deposition taken. It is all in order, and +there can be no dispute." + +I think at that moment I should have been glad if it had been found +invalid. There was something so inevitable and final in Richard's plain +and practical words. + +Evidently a great change had come in my life, and I could not help it if +I would. I could not but feel the separation from the person upon whom I +had leaned so long, and who had done everything for me, and I knew this +separation was to be a final one; Richard's words left no doubt of that. + +"What you'd better do," he said, leaning by the mantelpiece, "is to tell +the servants about this--this--change in your plans, to-morrow; unpack, +and settle the house to stay here for the present. In the course of a +couple of months it will be time enough to make up your mind about where +you will live. I think, till the will is admitted and all that, you had +better keep things as they are, and make no change." + +He had been so used to thinking for me, that he could not give it up at +once. "I will tell Sophie to-morrow," he went on. "It will not be +necessary for you to see her if she should come before she hears of it +from me." (Sophie had an engagement with me to go out on the following +morning. He seemed to to have forgotten nothing.) + +"What will Sophie think of me?" I said, with my eyes on the floor. +"Richard, it looks very bad for me; when I was poor, I was going to +marry you, and now that I have money left me, I am going to break +it off." + +"What difference does it make how it looks," he said, "when you know you +have done right? I will tell Sophie the truth, that it was my doing both +times, and that you only yielded to my judgment in the matter. Besides, +if she judges you harshly, it need not make much matter to you. You will +never again be thrown intimately with her, I suppose." + +"No, I suppose not," I said faintly. I was being turned out of my world +very fast, and it was not very clear what I was going to get in exchange +for it (except freedom). + +"I will send you up money to-morrow morning," he went on, "to pay the +servants, and all that. The clerk I shall send it by, is the one that I +shall put in charge of your matters. You can always draw on him for +money, or ask him any questions, or call on him for any service, in case +I should be away, or ill, or anything." + +"You are going away?" I said interrogatively. + +"It is possible, for a while--I don't know. I haven't made up my mind +definitely about what I am going to do. But in case I _should_ be away, +I mean, you are to call on him." + +"I understand." + +"Anything he tells you, about signing papers, and such things, you may +be sure is all right." + +"Yes." + +"But don't do anything, without consulting me, for anybody else, +remember." + +"I'll remember," I said absently and humbly. It was no wonder Richard +felt I needed somebody to take care of me! + +"I believe there's nothing else I wanted to say to you," he said at +last, moving from the mantelpiece where he had been standing; "at least, +nothing that I can't write about, when it occurs to me." + +"Oh, Richard!" I said, beginning to cry again, as I knew that the moment +of parting had come, "I don't understand you at all. I think you take it +very calm." + +"Isn't that the way to take it?" he said, in a voice that was, +certainly, very calm indeed. + +I looked up in his face: he was ten years older. I really was frightened +at the change in him. + +"Oh!" I exclaimed, putting my face down in my hands, "I wasn't worth +all I've made you suffer." + +"Maybe you weren't," he said simply, "But it wasn't either your fault or +mine--and you couldn't help it--that I wanted you." + +He made a quick movement as he passed the table, and my work-basket fell +at his feet, and a little jewel-box rolled across the floor. It was a +ring he had brought me, only three days before. + +He stooped to pick it up, and I saw his features contract as if in pain, +as he laid it back upon the table. And his voice was unsteady, as he +said, not looking at me while he spoke, "I hope you won't send any of +these things back. If there's anything you're willing to keep, because I +gave it to you, I'd like it very much. The rest send to your church, or +somewhere. I don't want to have to look at them again." + +By this time I was sobbing, and, sitting down by the table, had buried +my face on my arms. + +"I'm sorry that it makes you feel so," he said, "but it can't be helped. +Don't cry, I can't bear to see you cry. Good-bye, Pauline; God +bless you." + +And he was gone. I did not realize it, and did not lift my head, till I +heard the heavy sound of the outer door closing after him. + +Then I knew it was all over, and that things were changed for me +indeed. + +"I cannot cry and get over it as you can," he had said. + +And if tears would have got me over it, I should have been cured that +night. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MY NEW WORLD. + + Few are the fragments left of follies past; + For worthless things are transient. Those that last + Have in them germs of an eternal spirit, + And out of good their permanence inherit. + + _Bowring_. + + + Nor they unblest, + Who underneath the world's bright vest + With sackcloth tame their aching breast, + The sharp-edged cross in jewels hide. + + _Keble_. + + +From eighteen to twenty-four--a long step; and it covers the ground that +is generally the brightest and gayest in a woman's life, and the most +decisive. With me it was, in a certain sense, bright and gay; but the +deciding events of my life seemed to have been crowded into the year, +the story of which has just been told. Of the six years that came after, +there is not much to tell. My character went on forming itself, no +doubt, and interiorly I was growing in one direction or the other; but +in external matters, there is not much of interest. + +I had "no end of money," so it seemed to me, and to a good many other +people, I should think, from the way that they paid me court. I don't +see why it did not turn my head, except that I was what they call +religious, and dreadfully afraid of doing wrong. I was not my own +mistress exactly, either, for I had some one to direct my conscience, +though that was the only direction that I ever had. I had not the +smallest restriction as to money from Richard (to whom the estate was +left in trust); and it had been found much to exceed his expectations, +or those of anybody else. + +I had the whole world before me, where to go and what to choose; not +very much stability of character, and the greatest ignorance; a +considerable share of good looks, and the love of pleasure inseparable +from youth and health; absolutely no authority, and any amount of +flattery and temptation. I think it must be agreed, it was a happy thing +for me that I was brought under the influence of Sister Madeline, and +that through her I was made to feel most afraid of sin, and of myself; +and that the life within, the growth in grace, and the keeping clear my +conscience, was made to appear of more consequence than the life +without, that was so full of pleasures and of snares. + +I often think now of the obedience with which I would give up a party, +stay at home alone, and read a good book, because I had been advised to +do it, or because it was a certain day; of the simplicity with which I +would pat away a novel, when its interest was at the height, because it +was the hour for me to read something different, or because it was +Friday, or because I was to learn to give up doing what I wanted to. + +These things, trivial in themselves, and never bound upon my conscience, +only offered as advice, had the effect of breaking up the constant +influence of the world, giving me a little time for thought, and +opportunity for self-denial. I cannot help thinking such things are very +useful for young persons, and particularly those who have only ordinary +force and resolution. At least, I think they were made a means of +security to me. I was so in earnest to do right, that I often thought, +in terror for myself, in the midst of alluring pleasures and delights, +it was a pity they had not let me be a Sister when I wanted to at first. +(I really think I had more vocation than they thought: I could have +_given up_, to the end of life, without a murmur, if that is what is +necessary.) As to the people who wanted to marry me, I did not care for +any of them, and seemed to have much less coquetry than of old. They +simply did not interest me, (of course, in a few years, I had outgrown +the love that I had supposed to be so immortal.) It was very pleasant to +be always attended to, and to have more constant homage than any other +young woman whom I saw. But as to liking particularly any of the men +themselves, it never occurred to me to think of it. + +I was placed by my fortunate circumstances rather above the intrigue, +and detraction, and heart-burning, that attends the social struggle for +life in ordinary cases. If I were envied, I did not know it, and I had +small reason to envy anybody else, being quite the queen. + +I enjoyed above measure, the bright and pleasant things that I had at my +command: the sunny rooms of my pretty house: the driving, the sailing, +the dancing: all that charms a healthy young taste, and is innocent. I +took journeys, with the ecstasy of youth and of good health. I never +shall forget the pleasure of certain days and skies, and the enjoyment +that I had in nature. In society, I had a little more weariness, as I +grew older, and found a certain want of interest, as was inevitable. +Society isn't all made up of clever people, and even clever people get +to be tiresome in the course of time. But at twenty-four I was by no +means _blase_, only more addicted to books and journeys, and less +enthusiastic about parties and croquet, though these I could enjoy a +little yet. + +I had a pretty house (and re-furnished it very often, which always gave +me pleasure). I had no care, for Richard had arranged that I should have +a very excellent sort of person for duenna, who had a good deal of tact, +and didn't bore me, and was shrewd enough to make things very smooth. I +liked her very much, though I think now she was something of a +hypocrite. But she had enough principle to make things very respectable, +and I never took her for a friend. We had very pretty little dinners, +and little evenings when anybody wanted them, though the house wasn't +very large. My duenna (by name Throckmorton) liked journeys as well as I +did, and never objected to going anywhere. Altogether we were very +comfortable. + +The people whom I had known in that first year of my social existence, +had drifted away from me a good deal in this new life. Sophie I could +not help meeting sometimes, for she was still a gay woman, but I +naturally belonged to a younger set, and did not go very long into +general society. We still disliked each other with the cordiality of our +first acquaintance, but I was very sorry for it, and had a great many +repentances about it after every meeting. Kilian I met a good deal, but +we rather avoided each other, at short range, though exceedingly good +friends to the general observation. + +Mary Leighton I seldom saw; no doubt she was consumed with envy when she +heard of me, for they were poor, and not able to keep up with gay life +as would have pleased her. She still maintained her intimacy with +Kilian, for he had not the resolution to break off a flirtation of +which, I was sure, he must be very tired. + +Henrietta had married very well, two years after I saw her at R----, and +was the staid, placid matron that she was always meant to be. + +Charlotte Benson was the clever woman still: a little stronger-minded, +and no less good-looking than of old, and no more. People were beginning +to say that she would not marry, though she was only twenty-six. She did +not go much to parties, and was not in my set. She affected art and +lectures, and excursions to mountains, and campings-out, and +unconventionalities, and no doubt had a good time in her way. But it was +not my way: and so we seldom met. When we did, she did not show much +more respect for me than of old, which always had the effect of making +me feel angry. + +And as for Richard, we could not have been much further apart, if he +had lived "in England and I at Rotterdam." For a year, while he was +settling up the estate, he was closely in the city. I did not see him +more than once or twice, all business being transacted through his +lawyer, and the clerk of whom he had spoken to me. After the business +matters of the estate were all in order, he went away, intending, I +believe, to stay a year or two. But he came back before many months were +over, and settled down into the routine of business life, which now +seemed to have become necessary to him. + +Travel was only a weariness to him in his state of mind; and work, and +city-life, seemed the panacea. He did not live with Sophie, but took +apartments, which he furnished plainly; and seemed settling down, +according to his brother, into much of the sort of life that Uncle +Leonard had led so many years in Varick-street. + +Sophie still went to R----, and I often heard of the pleasant parties +there in summer. But Richard seldom went, and seemed to have lost his +interest in the place, though I have no doubt he spent more money on it +than before. I heard of many improvements every year. + +And Richard was now a man of wealth, so much so that people talked about +him; and the newspapers said, in talking about real-estate, or +investments, or institutions of charity--"When such men as Richard +Vandermarck allow their names to appear, we may be sure," etc., etc. He +was now the head of the firm, and one of the first business men of the +city. He seemed a great deal older than he was; thirty-seven is young to +occupy the place he held. + +Such a _parti_ could not be let alone entirely. His course was certainly +discouraging, and it needs tough hopes to live on nothing. But stranger +things had happened; more obdurate men had yielded; and unappropriated +loveliness hoped on. The story of an early attachment was afloat in +connection with his name. I don't know whether I was made to play a part +in it or not. + +I saw him, perhaps, twice a year, not oftener. His manner was always, to +me, peculiarly grave and kind; to every one, practical and unpretending. +I had many letters from him, particularly when I was away on journeys. +He seemed always to want to know exactly where I was, and to feel a care +of me, though his letters never went beyond business matters, and advice +about things I did not understand. + +As my guardian, he could not have done less, nor was it necessary that +he should do more; still I often wished it would occur to him to come +and see me oftener, and give me an opportunity of showing him how much +I had improved, and how different I had become. I had the greatest +respect for his opinion; and he had grown, unconsciously to myself, to +be a sort of oracle with me, and a sort of hero, too. + +I was apt to compare other men with him, and they fell very far short of +his measure in my eyes. That may have been because I saw him much too +seldom, and the other men much too often. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +BIEN PERDU, BIEN CONNU. + + Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye, + And love me still, but know not why; + So hast thou the same reason still + To doat upon me ever! + + +"It's very nice to be at home again," I said to Mrs. Throckmorton, as I +broke a great lump of coal in pieces, and watched the flames +with pleasure. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Throckmorton, putting another piece of sugar in her +coffee, for she was still at the table. "That is, if you call this home; +I must confess it doesn't feel so to me altogether." + +"Well, it's our own dear, noisy, raging, racketing, bustling old city, +if it isn't our own house, and I'm sure we're very comfortable." + +"Very," said Mrs. Throckmorton, who was always pleased. + +"Every time I hear the tinkle of a car-bell, or the roar of an omnibus, +I feel a thrill of pleasure," I said; "I never was so glad to get +anywhere before." + +"That's something new, isn't it?" said Mrs. Throckmorton, briefly. + +"I don't know; I think I am always glad to get back home." + +"And very glad to go away again too, my dear." + +"I don't think I shall travel any more," I returned. "The fact is, I am +getting too old to care about it, I believe." + +Mrs. Throckmorton laughed, being considerably over forty, and still as +fond of going about as ever. + +We were only _de retour_ two days. We had started eighteen months ago, +for at least three years in Europe, and I had found myself unaccountably +tired of it at the end of a year and a half; and here we were. + +Our house was rented, but that I had not allowed to be any obstacle, +though Mrs. Throckmorton, who was very well satisfied with the easy life +abroad, had tried to make it so. I had secured apartments which were +very pretty and complete. We had found them in order, and we had come +there from the steamer. I was eminently happy at being where I wanted +to be. + +"How odd it seems to be in town and have nobody know it," I said, +thinking, with a little quiet satisfaction, how pleased several people I +could name would be, if they only knew we were so near them. + +"Nobody but Mr. Vandermarck, I suppose," said Mrs. Throckmorton. + +"Not even he," I answered, "for he can't have got my letter yet; it was +only mailed the day we started. It was only a chance, you know, our +getting those staterooms, and we were in such a hurry. I was so much +obliged to that dear, old German gentleman for dying. We shouldn't have +been here if he hadn't." + +"Pauline, my dear!" + +"Well, I can't think, as he's probably in heaven, that he can have +begrudged us his tickets to New York." + +"I should think not," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with a little sigh. For +New York was not heaven to her, and she had spent a good deal of the day +in looking up the necessary servants for our establishment, which, +little as it was, required just double the number that had made us +comfortable abroad. + +She had too much discretion to trouble me with her cares, however, so +she said cheerfully, after a few moments, by way of diverting my mind +and her own-- + +"Well, I heard some news to-day." + +"Ah!"--(I had been unpacking all day; and Mrs. Throckmorton in the +interval of servant-hunting had not been able to refrain from a visit or +two, _en passant_ to dear friends.) + +"Yes: Kilian Vandermarck was married yesterday." + +"Yesterday! how odd. And pray, who has he married? Not Mary Leighton, I +should hope." + +"Leighton. Yes, that's the name. No money, and a little _passe_. +Everybody wonders." + +"Well, he deserves it. That is even-handed justice, I'm not sorry for +him. He's been trifling all his days, and now he's got his punishment. +It serves Sophie right, too. I know she can't endure her. She never +thought there was the slightest danger. But I'm sorry for Richard, that +he's got to have such a girl related to him." + +"Oh, well," said Mrs. Throckmorton, "I don't know whether that'll affect +him very much, for they say he's going to be married too." + +"Richard!" + +"Yes; and to that Benson girl, you know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Mary Ann. She's heard it half a dozen times, she says. I believe it's +rather an old affair. His sister made it up, I'm told. The young lady's +been spending the summer with them, and this autumn it came out." + +"I don't believe it." + +"I'm sure I don't know; only that's the talk. It would be odd, though, +if we'd just come home in time for the wedding. You'll have to give her +something handsome, being your guardian, and all." + +I wouldn't give her anything, and she shouldn't marry Richard, I +thought, as I leaned back in my chair and looked into the fire; a great +silence having fallen on us since the delivery of that piece of news. + +I said I didn't believe it, and yet I'm afraid I did. It was so like a +man to give in at last; at least, like any man but Richard. He had +always liked Charlotte Benson, and known how clever she was, and Sophie +had been so set upon it, (particularly since Richard had had so much +money that he had given her a handsome settlement that nothing would +affect.) And now that Kilian was married and would have the place, +unless Richard wanted it, it was natural that Sophie should approve +Richard having _his_ wife there instead of Kilian having his; Kilian's +being one that nobody particularly approved. + +Yes, it did sound very much like probability. I wasn't given to +self-analysis; but I acknowledged to myself, that I was very much +disappointed, and that if I had known that this was going to happen, I +should have stayed in Europe. + +I had never felt as if there were any chance of Richard marrying any +one; I had not said to myself, that his love for me still had an +existence, nor had I any reason to believe it. But the truth had been, +I had always felt that he belonged to me, and was my right, and I felt a +bitter resentment toward this woman, who was supposed to have usurped my +place. How _dared_ Richard love anybody else! I was angry with him, and +very much hurt, and very, very unhappy. + +Long after Mrs. Throckmorton went to her middle-aged repose, I sat up +and went through imaginary scenes, and reviewed the situation a hundred +times, and tried to convince myself of what I wanted to believe, and +ended without any satisfaction. + +One thing was certain. If Richard was going to marry Charlotte Benson, +he was not going to do it because he loved her. He might not be +prevented from doing it because he loved me; but he did not love her. I +could not say why exactly. But I knew she was not the kind of woman for +him to think of loving, and I would not believe it till I heard it from +himself, and I would hear it from himself at the earliest possible date. +I did not like to be unhappy, and was very impatient to get rid of this, +if it were not true, and to know the worst, at once, if it were. + +"My dear Throcky," I said to my companion, at the breakfast-table, "I +think you'd better go and take dinner with your niece to-day. I've sent +for Mr. Vandermarck to come and dine, and I thought perhaps you'd +rather not be bored; we shall have business to talk about, and business +is such a nuisance when you're not interested in it." + +"Very well, my dear," said Mrs. Throckmorton, with indestructible +good-humor. + +"Or you might have a headache, if you'd rather, and I'll send your +dinner up to you. I'll be sure Susan takes you everything that's nice." + +"Well, then, I think I'll have a headache; I'm afraid I'd rather have it +than one of Mary Ann's poor dinners. (I'd be sure of one to-morrow if +I went.)" + +"Paris things have spoiled you, I'm afraid," I said. "Only see that I +have something nice for Richard, won't you?--How do you think the cook +is going to do?" This was the first sign of interest I had given in the +matter of _menage_; by which it will be seen I was still a little +selfish, and not very wise. But Throckmorton was a person to cultivate +my selfishness, and there had not been much to develop the wisdom of +common life. + +She promised me a very pretty dinner, no matter at what trouble, and +made me feel quite easy about her wounded feelings. One of the best +features of Throckmorton was, she hadn't any feelings; you might treat +her like a galley-slave, and she would show the least dejection. It was +a temptation to have such a person in the house. + +I had sent a note to Richard which contained the following: + +/# + "DEAR RICHARD: + + "I am sure you will be surprised to know we have returned. + But the fact is, I got very tired of Italy; and we were + disappointed in the apartments we wanted in Berlin, and some + of the people we expected to have with us had to give it up, + and altogether it seemed dull, and we thought it would be + just as pleasant to come home. We were able to get staterooms + that just suited us, and it didn't seem worth while to lose + them by waiting to send word. We had a very comfortable + voyage, and I am glad to find myself at home, though Mrs. + Throckmorton doesn't think the rooms are very nice. I want to + know if you won't come to dinner. We dine at six. Send a line + back by the boy. I want to ask you about some + business matters. + + "Affectionately yours, + + "PAULINE." +#/ + +And I had received for answer: + +/# + "MY DEAR PAULINE: + + "Of course I am astonished to think you are at home. I + enclosed you several letters by the steamer yesterday, none + of them of any very great importance, though, I think. I will + come up at six. + + "Always yours, + + "RICHARD VANDERMARCK. + + "P.S. I am very glad you wanted to come home." +#/ + +I read this letter over a great many times, but it did not enlighten me +at all as to his intentions about marrying Charlotte Benson. It was very +matter-of-fact, but that Richard's letters always were. Evidently he had +thought the same of it himself, as he read it over, and had added the +postscript. But that did not seem very enthusiastic. Altogether I was +not happy, waiting for six o'clock to come. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +A DINNER + + Time and chance are but a tide, + Slighted love is sair to bide. + + +The dining-room and parlor of our little suite adjoined; the door was +standing open between them, as I walked up and down the parlor, waiting +nervously for Richard to arrive. The fire was bright, and the only light +in the parlor was a soft, pretty lamp, which we had brought from Italy. +There were flowers on the table, and in two or three vases, and the +curtains were pretty, and there were several large mirrors. Outside, it +was the twilight of a dark autumnal day; almost night already, and the +lamps were lit. It lacked several minutes of six when Richard came. I +felt very much agitated when he entered the room. It was a year and a +half since I had seen him: besides, this piece of news! But he looked +just the same as ever, and I had not the self-possession to note whether +he seemed agitated at meeting me. I do not know exactly what we talked +about for the first few moments, probably I was occupied in trying to +excuse myself for coming home so suddenly, for I found Richard was not +altogether pleased at not having been informed, and thought there must +be something yet to tell. He was not used to feminine caprice, and I +began to feel a good deal ashamed of myself. I had to remind myself, +more than once, that I was not responsible to any one. + +"I just felt like it," was such a very weak explanation to offer to this +grave business-man, for disarranging two years of carefully-laid plans. + +I found I was getting to be a little afraid of Richard: we had been so +long apart, and he had grown so much older. + +"I hope, at least, you are not going to scold me for it," I said at +last, with a little laugh, feeling that was my best way out of it. "I +shall think you are not glad, to see me." + +"I am glad to see you," he said, gravely; "and as to scolding, it's so +long since you've given me an opportunity, I should not know how to +go to work." + +"Do you mean, because I've been away so long, or because I've been so +good?" + +Susan, who had been watching her opportunity, now appeared in the +dining-room door, and said that dinner was on the table. + +Richard asked for Mrs. Throckmorton when we sat down to dinner. I told +him she was dining with her niece. (She had reconsidered the question of +the headache, and had gone to hear more news.) The dinner was very nice, +and very nicely served; but somehow, Richard did not seem to enjoy it +very much, that is, not as I had been in the habit lately of seeing men +enjoy their meals. + +"I am afraid you are getting like Uncle Leonard, and only care about +Wall-street," I said. "I shouldn't wonder if you forgot to order your +dinner half the time, and took the same thing for breakfast every +morning in the year." + +"That's just exactly how it is," he said. "If Sophie did not come down +to my quarters every week or two, and regulate affairs a little, I don't +know where I should be, in the matter of my dinners." + +"How is Sophie?" I said. + +"Very well. I saw her yesterday. I went to put Charley in College for +her." + +"I can't think of Charley as a young man." + +"Yes, Charley is a strapping fellow, within two inches of my height." + +"Impossible! And where is Benny?" + +"At school here in town. His mother will not let him go to +boarding-school. He is a nice boy: I think there's more in him +than Charley." + +"And I hear Kilian is married!" + +"Yes. Kilian is married--the very day you landed, too." + +"Well," I said, with a little dash of temper, "I'm very sorry for you +all. I did not think Kilian was going to be so foolish." + +"He thinks he's very wise, though, all the same," said Richard, with a +smile, which turned into a sigh before he had done speaking. + +"I do dislike her so," I exclaimed, warmly. "There isn't an honest or +straightforward thing about her. She is weak, too; her only strength is +her suppleness and cunning." + +"I know you never liked her," said Richard, gravely; "but I hope you'll +try to think better of her now." + +"I hope I shall never have to see her," I answered, with angry warmth. + +Richard was silent, and I was very much ashamed of myself a moment +after. I had meant him to see how much improved I was, and how well +disciplined. This was a pretty exhibition! I had not spoken so of any +one for a year, at least. I colored with mortification and penitence. +Richard evidently saw it, and felt sorry for me, for he said, +most kindly, + +"I can understand exactly how you feel, Pauline. This marriage is a +great trial to me. I have done all I could to keep Kilian from throwing +himself away, but I might as well have argued with the winds." + +"I don't care how much Kilian throws himself away," I said, impulsively. +"He deserves it for keeping around her all these years. But I do mind +that she is your sister, and that she will be mistress of the house +at R----." + +There was an awful silence then. Heavens! what had I been thinking about +to have said that! I had precipitated the _denouement_, and I had not +meant to. I did not want to hear it that moment, if he were going to +marry Charlotte Benson, nor did I want to hear it, if he were saving the +old place for me. I felt as if I had given the blow that would bring the +whole structure down, and I waited for the crash in frightened silence. + +In the meantime the business of the table went on. I ate half a chicken +croquette, and Susan placed the salad before Richard, and another plate. +He did not speak till he had put the salad on his plate; then he said, +without looking at me, in a voice a good deal lower than was usual +to him, + +"She is not to be mistress of that house. They will live in town." + +Then I felt cold and chilled to my very heart; it was well that he did +not expect me to speak, for I could not have commanded my voice enough +to have concealed my agitation. I knew very well from that moment that +he was going to marry Charlotte Benson. Something that was said a little +later was a confirmation. + +I had recovered myself enough to talk about ordinary things, and to keep +strictly to them, too. Richard was talking of the great heat of the past +summer. I had said it had been unparalleled in France; had he not found +it very uncomfortable here in town? + +"I have been out of town so much, I can hardly say how it has been +here," he answered. "I was all of August in the country; only coming to +the city twice." + +My heart sank: that was just what they had said; he had been a great +deal at home this summer, and she had been there all the time. + +The dinner was becoming terribly _ennuyant_, and I wished with all my +heart Throckmorton had been contented with just half the courses. +Richard did not seem to enjoy them, and I--I was so wretched I could +scarcely say a word, much less eat a morsel. It had been a great +mistake to invite him to take dinner; it was being too familiar, when he +had put me at such a distance all these years: I wished for Mrs. +Throckmorton with all my heart. Why had I sent her off? Richard was +evidently so constrained, and it was in such bad taste to have asked him +here; it could not help putting thoughts in both our minds, sitting +alone at a table opposite each other, as we should have been sitting +daily if that horrid will had not been found. He had dined with us just +twice before, but that was at dinner-parties, when there had been ever +so many people between us, and when I had not said six words to him +during the whole evening. + +The only excuse I could offer, and that he could understand, would be +that I wanted to talk business to him; I had said in my note that I +wanted to consult him about something, and I must keep that in mind. I +had wanted to ask him about a house I thought of buying, adjoining the +Sisters' Hospital, to enlarge their work; but I was so wicked and +worldly, I felt just then as if I did not care whether they had a house +or not, or whether they did any work. However, I resolved to speak about +it, when we had got away from the table, if we ever did. + +Susan kept bringing dish after dish. + +"Oh, we don't want any of that!" I exclaimed, at last, impatiently; "do +take it away, and tell them to send in the coffee." + +I was resolved upon one thing: Richard should tell me of his engagement +before he went away; it would be dishonorable and unkind if he did not, +and I should make him do it. I was not quite sure that I had +self-control enough not to show how it made me feel, when it came to +hearing it all in so many words. But in very truth, I had not much pride +as regarded him; I felt so sore-hearted and unhappy, I did not care much +whether he knew it or suspected it. + +I could not help remembering how little concealment he had made of his +love for me, even when he knew that all the heart I had was given to +another. I would be very careful not to precipitate the disclosure, +however, while we sat at table; it is so disagreeable to talk to any one +on an agitating subject _vis-a-vis_ across a little dinner-table, with a +bright light overhead, and a servant walking around, able to stop and +study you from any point she pleases. + +Coffee came at last, though even that, Susan was unwilling to look upon +as the legitimate finale, and had her views about liqueur, instructed by +Throckmorton. But I cut it short by getting up and saying, "I'm sure +you'll be glad to go into the parlor; it gets warm so soon in these +little rooms." + +The parlor was very cool and pleasant; a window had been open, and the +air was fresh, and the flowers were delicious, and the lamp was softer +and pleasanter than the gas. I went to break up the coal and make the +fire blaze, and Richard to shut the window down. + +When I had pulled a chair up to the fire and seated myself, he stood +leaning on the mantelpiece, on the other side from me. I felt sure he +meant to go, the minute that he could get away--a committee meeting, no +doubt, or some such nauseous fraud. But he should not go away until he +had told me, that was certain. + +"What is it that you wanted to ask me about, Pauline?" he said, rather +abruptly. + +My heart gave a great thump; how could he have known? Oh, it was the +business that I had spoken of in my stupid note. Yes; and I began to +explain to him what I wanted to do about the hospital. + +He looked infinitely relieved. I believe he had an idea it was something +very different. My explanation could not have added much to his +reverence for my business ability. I was very indefinite, and could not +tell him whether it was hundreds or thousands that I meant. + +He said, with a smile, he thought it must be thousands, as city property +was so very high. He was very kind, however, about the matter, and did +not discourage me at all. He always seemed to approve of my desire to +give away in charity, and, within bounds, always furthered such plans of +doing good. He said he would look into it, and would write me word next +week what his impression was; and then, I think, he meant to go away. + +Then I began talking on every subject I could think of, hoping some of +the roads would lead to Rome. But none of them led there, and I was +in despair. + +"Oh, don't you want to look at some photographs?" I said, at last, +thinking I saw an opening for my wedge. I got the package, and he came +to the table and looked at them, standing up. They were naturally of +much more interest to me than to him, being of places and people with +which I had so lately been familiar. + +But he looked at them very kindly, and asked a good many questions about +them. + +"Look at this," I said, handing him an Antwerp peasant-woman in her +hideous bonnet. "Isn't that ridiculously like Charlotte Benson? I bought +it because it was so singular a resemblance." + +"It is like her," he said, thoughtfully, looking at it long. "The mouth +is a little larger and the eyes further apart. But it is a most striking +likeness. It might almost have been taken for her." + +"How is she, and when have you seen her?" I said, a little choked for +breath. + +"She is very well. I saw her yesterday," he answered, still looking at +the little picture. + +"Was she with Sophie this summer?" + +"Yes, for almost two months." + +"I hope she doesn't keep everybody in order as sharply as she used to?" +I said, with a bitter little laugh. + +"I don't know," he said. "I think, perhaps, she is rather less decided +than she used to be." + +"Oh, you call it decision, do you? Well, I'm glad I know what it is. I +used to think it hadn't such a pretty name as that." + +Richard looked grave; it certainly was not a graceful way to lead up to +congratulations. + +"But then, you always liked her," I said. + +"Yes, I always liked her," he answered, simply. + +"I'm afraid I'm not very amiable," I retorted, "for I never liked her: +no better even than that fraudulent Mary Leighton, clever and sensible +as she always was. There is such a thing as being too clever, and too +sensible, and making yourself an offence to all less admirable people." + +Richard was entirely silent, and, I was sure, was disapproving of me +very much. + +"Do you know what I heard yesterday?" I said, In a daring way. "And I +hope you're going to tell me if it's true, to-night?" + +"What was it that you heard yesterday?" he asked, without much change of +tone. He had laid down the photograph, and had gone back, and was +leaning by the mantelpiece again. + +"Why, I heard that you were going to marry Charlotte Benson. Is it +true?" + +I had pushed away the pile of photographs from me, and had looked up at +him when I began, but my voice and courage rather failed before the end, +and my eyes fell. There was a silence--a silence that seemed to +stifle me. + +"Why do you ask me that question?" he said, at last, in a low voice. "Do +you believe I am, yourself?" + +"No," I cried, springing up, and going over to his side. "No, I don't +believe it. Tell me it isn't true, and promise me you won't ever, ever +marry Charlotte Benson." + +The relief was so unspeakable that I didn't care what I said, and the +joy I felt showed itself in my face and voice. I put out my hand to him +when I said "promise me," but he did not take it, and turned his head +away from me. + +"I shall not marry Charlotte Benson," he said; "but I cannot understand +what difference it makes to you." + +It was now my turn to be silent, and I shrank back a step or two in +great confusion. + +He raised his head, and looked steadily at me for a moment, and then +said: + +"Pauline, you did a great many things, but I don't think you ever +willingly deceived me. Did you?" + +I shook my head without looking lip. + +"Then be careful what you do now, and let the past alone," he said, and +his voice was almost stern. + +I trembled, and turned pale. + +"Women sometimes play with dangerous weapons," he said; "I don't accuse +you of meaning to give pain, but only of forgetting that some +recollections are not to you what they are to me. I never want to +interfere with any one's comfort or enjoyment; I only want to be let +alone. I do very well, and am not unhappy. About marrying, now or ever, +I should have thought you would have known. But let me tell you once for +all: I haven't any thought of it, and shall not ever have. It is not +that I am holding to any foolish hopes. It would be exactly the same if +you were married, or had died. It simply isn't in my nature to feel the +same way a second time. People are made differently, that is all. I'm +very well contented, and you need never let it worry you." + +He was very pale now, and his eyes had an expression I had never seen in +them before. + +"Richard," I said, faintly, "I never _have_ deceived you: believe me now +when I tell you, I am sorry from my heart for all that's past." + +"You told me so before, and I did forgive you. I forgave you fully, and +have never had a thought that wasn't kind." + +"I know it," I said. "But you do not trust me--you don't ever come near +me, or want to see me." + +"You do not know what you are talking of," he answered, turning from me. +"I forgive you anything you may have done at any time to give me pain. I +will do everything I can to serve you, in every way I can; only do not +stir up the past, and let me forget the little of it that I can forget." + +I burst into tears, and put my hands before my face. + +"What is it?" he said, uneasily. "You need not be troubled about me." + +Seeing that I did not stop, he said again, "Tell me: is it that that +troubles you?" + +I shook my head. + +"What is it, then? Something that I do not know about? Pauline, you are +unhappy, and yet you've everything in the world to make you happy. I +often think, there are not many women have as much." + +"The poorest of them are better off than I," I said, without raising my +head. + +"Then you are ungrateful," he said, "for you have youth, and health, and +money, and everybody likes you. You could choose from all the world." + +"No, I couldn't," I exclaimed, like a child; "and everybody doesn't like +me,"--and then I cried again, for I was really in despair, and thought +he meant to put me away, memory and all. + +"Well, if that's your trouble," he said, with a sigh, "I suppose I +cannot help you; but I'm very sorry." + +"Yes, you _can_ help me," I cried imploringly, forgetting all I ought to +have remembered; "if you only would forgive me, really and in earnest, +and be friends again--and let me try--" and I covered my face with +my hands. + +"Pauline," he said, standing by my side, and his voice almost frightened +me, it was so strong with feeling; "is this a piece of sentiment? Do you +mean anything? Or am I to be trifled with again?" + +He took hold of my wrists with both his hands, with such force as to +give me pain, and drew them from my face. + +"Look at me," he said, "and tell me what you mean; and decide +now--forever and forever. For this is the last time that you will have a +chance to say." + +"It's all very well," I said, trying to turn my face away from him. +"It's all very well to talk about loving me yet, and being just the +same; but this isn't the way you used to talk, and I think it's +very hard--" + +"That isn't answering me," he said, holding me closer to him. + +"What shall I say," I whispered, hiding my face upon his arm. "Nothing +will ever satisfy you." + +"Nothing ever _has_ satisfied me," he said, "--before." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD VANDERMARCK*** + + +******* This file should be named 12348.txt or 12348.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/4/12348 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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