Part 31 (1/2)
”A week, two weeks pa.s.sed, and her look of wilful happiness did not fly.
She was flooded with notes from her accepted lover, whose handwriting I had learned by this time to distinguish, but not one, so far as I could learn, from any other source; yet her feet tripped lightly through the house, and her form had a rich grace in its every movement, that bespoke a mind settled in some deep joy or quiet determination. I felt the impenetrability of a secretly cherished hope, whenever I looked at her.
If I had not known to the contrary, I should have said that her prospective marriage had become to her a dream of unfathomable delight.
Whence then came this rapture? Through what communication was born this secret hope? I could not guess, I could only watch and wait.
”Meanwhile some random guesses at the truth had been made by the neighbors. Jacqueline had a lover. That lover was a gentleman; but the Colonel was critical; he had refused his consent and the young people had parted. Such was the talk, begotten perhaps by the persistency with which Jacqueline remained in the house, and the almost severe look with which Colonel j.a.pha trod the streets of his native village, which he soon felt would lose all their charm in the departure of his only child.
I scarcely ventured out more than Jacqueline; for I have but little control over my feelings and did not know what I would do, if any one should closely press me with questions.
”The unexpected discovery that our pretty young servant girl was in the habit of stealing into Jacqueline's room late at night, was the first thing that startled me into asking whether or not my supposition was true, that Jacqueline received no messages from Mr. Robert Holt. And scarcely had I become certain that a clandestine correspondence was being carried on between them through the medium of this girl, then the climax came, and knowledge on my part and secrecy on hers availed no longer.
”It was a day in October. The stoves had been put up in the house, and seeing Jacqueline roaming about the halls, in a renewed fit of that strange restlessness which had affected her the day before Mr. Roger Holt's visit, I went into her room to light a fire, and make everything look cheerful before dusk. I found the atmosphere warm, and going to the stove, discovered that a fire had been already kindled there, but had gone out for want of fuel. I at once commenced to rake away the ashes, in order to make preparations for a new one, when I came upon several sc.r.a.ps of half burned paper.
”Jacqueline had been burning letters. Do you blame me for picking out those sc.r.a.ps and hastening with them to another room, when I tell you they were written in a marked and characteristic hand that bore little or no resemblance to that of her accepted lover, and that the words which flashed first upon my eye were those ominous ones of _my wife_!
”They were three in number, and while more or less discolored and irregular, were still legible. Think child with what a thrill of horror and sharp motherly anguish, I read such words as 'Love you! I would press you in my arms if you were plague-stricken! The least turn of your head makes my blood cringe, as if a flame had touched me. I would follow you on my knees, if you led me round the world. Let me see Robert take your hand again and I will--'
”'Forget you! Do we forget the dagger that has struck us? I am another man since--'
”'I will have you if Robert goes mad and your father kills me. That I am burdened with a wife, is nothing. What is a wife that I do not--' 'You shall be my true wife, my--'
”'To-night then, be ready; I will wait for you at the gate. A little resolution on your part, and then--'
”I could read no further. The living, burning truth had forced itself upon me, that Jacqueline, our darling, our pride, the soul of our life, stood tottering upon the brink of a gulf horrible as the mouth of h.e.l.l.
For I never doubted for an instant what her answer would be to this entreaty. In all her past life, G.o.d pity us, there had been no tokens of that immovable hold on virtue, that would save her in such an extremity as this. Nevertheless, to make all sure, I flew back to her room, and tearing open bureau drawers and closet doors, discovered that her prettiest things had been sent away. She was going, then, and on that very night! and her father did not even know she was untrue to her betrothed lover. The horror of the situation was too much for me; I faltered as I left her room, her dainty, maidenly room, and actually crouched against the wall like a guilty thing, as I heard the sound of her voice singing some maddening strain in the parlors below. What should I do? Appeal to her, or warn her father of the frightful peril in which his honor and happiness stood? Alas, any appeal to her would be useless. In the glare of this awful revelation I had come to a full comprehension of her nature. But her father was a man; he could command as well as entreat, could even force obedience if all other methods failed. To him, then, must I go; but I had rather have gone to the rack.
He was so proud a man! Had owned to such undeviating trust in his daughter's honor, as a j.a.pha and his child! The blow would kill him; or daze him so, he might better have been killed. My knees shook under me, as I traversed the hall to his little study over the parlor, and when I came to the door, I rather fell against it than knocked, so great was my own anguish, and so deep my terror of his. He was a ready man and he came to the door at once, but upon seeing me, drew back as if his eye had fallen upon a phantom.
”'Hus.h.!.+' said I, scarcely knowing what I uttered; and going in, I closed the door and latched it firmly behind me. 'I have come,' said I in a voice that made him start, 'to ask you to save your daughter. She is in deadly peril; she--' a strain of her song came in at that moment from the staircase. She was ascending to her room. He looked at me in a doubt of my sanity.
”'Not physical peril,' I stammered, 'but _moral_. She loves madly, unreasonably, and with a headlong pa.s.sion that laughs at every obstacle, a man whom neither you nor heaven can look upon with aught but execration. She--'
”'Mrs. Hamlin!'--How well I remember his cool, calm voice, so deliberate in his impressive moments, so deliberate now, when perhaps she was donning hat and shawl for her elopement--'You are laboring under a great mistake. Instead of execrating Mr. Holt, I admire him most profoundly.
Since the time has come for me to give up my daughter, I know of no one to whom I would rather surrender her.'
”'But Mr. Holt is not the man,' I cried, half wild in my fear and desperation. 'Do you remember the gentleman who came with him on his last visit? He called him his brother, and he is I believe, but--'
”The way he turned his grand white forehead towards me at that, made every fibre in my being quiver. 'Jacqueline does not love _him_!'
exclaimed he. How sharp his voice, how changed his eye! I shrank back, trembling as I bowed my head, thinking of the word yet to be said.
”'But he won't compare--' he went on with a severe intonation. 'Besides her honor is engaged. You are dealing in fancies, Mrs. Hamlin.'
”I tore out of my breast the sc.r.a.ps of paper which had enlightened me so horribly, and held them towards him; then bethought myself, and drew back. 'I have proof,' said I; 'but first I must tell you that Jacqueline is not as good a girl as you have thought her. She is not her mother's child in the qualities of love and honor. She is destined to bring a great woe upon your head. In her pa.s.sion for this man, she has forgotten your trust in her, the incorruptibility of your name, the honor of your house. Be strong, sir, for G.o.d is about to smite you in your tenderest spot.
”Ah, with what pride he towered upon me! this white-haired, stately gentleman before whom I had hitherto held my breath in admiring awe; towered upon me though his face was ghostly pale and his hand trembled like an aspen as he held it out!
”'Give me the papers you hold there,' cried he. 'Either you are gone mad, or else--Who wrote these lines?' he demanded, glancing down upon the hard, firm scrawl that blackened the bits of paper I had given him.
”'Mr. Roger Holt,' I returned unhesitatingly. 'I found those bits in Jacqueline's stove. Her clothes have been sent away, sir,' I continued as I saw his face grow fixed above the sc.r.a.ps he consulted. 'Twilight is coming on and--Mr. Roger Holt is a married man!'