Part 30 (1/2)
”And is it not Mr. G.o.dfrey I mean? Good kind Mr. Anthony would not harm a lamb, much less a poor motherless girl like me!”
Again wringing her hands, she burst into a fit of pa.s.sionate weeping.
Juliet was dreadfully agitated; and springing from her horse, she sat down upon the bank beside the unfortunate young woman, regardless of the loud roaring of the thunder, and the heavy pouring of the rain, and elicited from her the story of her wrongs.
Indignant at the base manner in which she had been deceived by G.o.dfrey Hurdlestone, Juliet bade Mary follow her to the Lodge, and inform her aunt of the particulars that she had just related to her.
”I will never betray the man I love!” cried Mary, pa.s.sionately. ”When I told you my secret, Miss Whitmore, it was under the idea that you loved him--that you meant to tear him from me. Tell no one, I beseech you, the sad story, which you wrung from me in my despair!”
She would have flung herself at Juliet's feet; but the latter drew back, and said, with a sternness quite foreign to her nature:
”Would you have me guilty of a base fraud, and suffer the innocent to bear the brand of infamy, which another had incurred? Affection cannot justify crime. The feelings with which you regard a villain like G.o.dfrey Hurdlestone are not deserving of the name of love.”
”Ah, you young ladies are so hard-hearted,” said Mary, bitterly. ”Pride hinders you from falling into temptation, like other folk. If you dared, you would be no better than one of us.”
”Mary, do not change my pity for your unhappy situation into contempt.
Religion and propriety of conduct can protect the poorest girl from the commission of crime. I am sorry for you, and will do all in my power to save you from your present misery. But you must promise me to give up your evil course of life.”
”You may spare yourself the trouble,” said the girl, regarding her companion's beautiful countenance, and its expression of purity and moral excellence, with a glance of envious disdain. ”I ask no aid; I need no sympathy; and, least of all, from you, who have robbed me of my lover, and then reproach me with the evil which your selfish love of admiration has brought upon me.”
A glow of anger pa.s.sed over Miss Whitmore's face, as the girl turned to leave her. She struggled a few minutes with her feelings, until her better nature prevailed; and following Mary, she caught her by the arm:
”Stay with me, Mary! I forgive the rash words you uttered. I am sure you cannot mean what you say.”
”You had better leave me,” said the girl, gloomily. ”Evil thoughts are rising in my heart against you, and I cannot resist them.”
”You surely would not do me any harm?” and Juliet involuntarily glanced towards her horse, which was quietly grazing a few paces off, ”particularly when I feel most anxious to serve you.”
The girl's countenance betrayed the most violent agitation. She turned upon Juliet her fine eyes, in which the light of incipient madness gleamed, and said in a low, horrid voice,
”I hate you. I should like to kill you!”
Juliet felt that to run from her, or to offer the least resistance, would be the means of drawing upon herself the doom which her companion threatened. Seating herself upon a fallen tree, and calmly folding her hands together, she merely uttered, ”Mary, may G.o.d forgive you for your sinful thought!” and then awaited in silence the issue of this extraordinary and painful scene.
The girl stood before her, regarding her with a fixed and sullen tone.
Sometimes she raised her hand in a menacing att.i.tude; and then, again, the sweet mild glance of her intended victim appeared to awe her into submission.
”Shall I kill her?” she muttered aloud. ”Shall I spoil that baby face, which he prefers to mine?” Then as if that thought aroused all the worst feelings in her breast, she continued in a louder, harsher tone, ”Yes--I will tread her beneath my feet--I will trample her into the dust; for he loves her. Oh, misery, misery! he loves her better than me--than me who love him so well--who could die for him! Oh, agony of agonies! for her sake I am forgotten and despised!”
The heart of the woman was touched by the vehemence of her own pa.s.sions.
Her former ferocity gave way, and she sank down upon the ground, and buried her face in the long gra.s.s, and wept.
Her agonising sobs and groans were more than Juliet could listen to, without offering a word of comfort to the mourner. Forgetful of her former fears, she sat down by the prostrate weeper, and lifting her head upon her knees put back from her swollen face the long-neglected tresses, which, drenched by the heavy rain, fell in thick ma.s.ses over her convulsed features. Mary no longer offered any resistance. Her eyes were closed, her lips apart. She lay quite motionless, but ever and anon the pale lips quivered; and streams of tears gushed from beneath the long lashes that shrouded her eyes, and fell like rain over her garments.
Oh, love and guilt, how dreadful is your struggle in the human heart!
Like Satan after his first transgression, the divine principle, still retains somewhat of its sovereign power and dignity, and appears little less
”Than archangel ruined.”