Part 15 (1/2)
He did not know how I felt----”
”Mother! mother! for Heaven's sake!”
”Dear Valley, let me go on and tell this story for the first and last time. I felt that I had to tell it some day; the day is come; let me finish--finish for my own justification, for I would be justified to you. Well, I never entered the lady's presence again, of course, and, from that day to this, was only my master's faithful servant, and no more. As soon as I was able to travel, my master sent me with you into the town to hire out. I found a good place, where we lived several years. I never even saw my master's face all the time, but strange reports went around, notwithstanding. People said that Colonel Waring and his lady lived very unhappily together; that they quarreled very often; that she was mad with jealousy of the Mestizza; that every time the colonel came in town, there would be a dreadful scene upon his return home. At last it is certain that my master left off visiting the city altogether, and did all his business there by deputies. But the lady's attacks of pa.s.sion or hysterics became periodical, returning at regular intervals, and in the course of the first year she became a confirmed lunatic. Before the end of the second year, it became necessary to put her under restraint. Finally, she was taken to a Northern lunatic asylum, in the hope of cure, and there, at the end of a few months, she died raving mad, and hurling down imprecations upon me.
It was generally reported then, as now, that jealousy had driven her mad; but it was not true--Heaven knows that it was not true, any more than it was true that she had a just cause for her jealousy. For if ever I saw insanity in any creature, I saw it in her great staring eyes the first and only time I ever set mine upon her face. No; jealousy did not cause her madness, but her madness caused her jealousy!”
Phaedra paused, and, with her head bent upon her hand, remained silent some moments; then she resumed:
”When that unfortunate lady had been dead some time, and one nurse after another had been intrusted with the care of her child, and had failed to give satisfaction, my year at last being up with my city employer, my master took me home, to mind Master Oswald. It was the first time I had seen the baby, although he had come home with his mother, and was in the carriage with his nurse at the very time that she first set foot upon the threshold of her new home. Master Oswald was about two years old when I first took charge of him; and if my heart had been ever so seared and hardened, it could not but have been touched at the sight of that motherless infant--so puny, neglected and suffering, as he looked. Well, I took care of him--Heaven knows I did--excellent care of him, or he would not be living now. But he doesn't remember that. How should he, indeed, when even his father did not remember it, although many, many times, when he saw how his heir thrived under my care, he would praise me, and promise me such great things for my own poor boy. Well, I was sure he would keep his word. He has not done so; and I could find it in my heart to pray for both your death and mine!” exclaimed Phaedra, with a short, sudden sob, as if she were on the eve of another burst of violent emotion.
”Do not grieve, mother; Mr. Waring has not done ill by us, I am sure. I have had as happy a life with him as my own nature will permit. I could not have borne life with a master less good-natured and tolerant. In truth, if our mutual relations had been reversed, I fear that I should not have been so uniformly kind as he. In fact, barring a little selfishness, where his habits and personal comforts are concerned, he is one of the very kindest of men. You know how he has regarded us both, from his boyhood----”
”Until he left home--he changed to us from that time.”
”Only for a while, when he was at school, and his cla.s.smates laughed at him for his attachment to me, and he grew angry and ashamed to show it; now he is his old self again. And, mother, there is but one obstacle to his realizing for us the hopes his father disappointed.”
”And what is that, Valentine?”
”His affection for us both, that has in it a certain alloy of selfishness, as, indeed, many other people's affections for others also have. He loves us both, in a different way; and he loves his own comfort in us. He would not like to lose his faithful, motherly housekeeper, or his confidential, attached valet; or that either the one or the other should have the power to leave him at will. Ah, mother, I can understand Master Oswald better than any one else in the world can. I can read his heart like an open book; and, moreover, I can in most things wind him around my finger like a string. Look at these things. Why do you suppose he collected them? He doesn't care for anything like this, but I delight in them, and so I persuaded him to collect them to adorn his rooms. I did not do so for my own gratification alone, but that I really did wish to see him cultivate a refined taste. Now, we are soon going to Europe.
Why? Do you think he wished to go at first? No; he never would have thought of it. It would have been a great deal too much trouble to take the lead in such a plan, but I thought he ought to make the grand tour, like other young men of fortune; besides which, I had a desire to travel myself. So I persuaded him that a gentleman of fas.h.i.+on (as he desires to be thought, you know) ought to see Europe. So we go! Why, bless his easy, good-natured heart, I have such great power over him--may I never abuse it! that ninety-nine days out of a hundred it is I who am master!”
”But the hundredth day, Valentine!”
The boy's face suddenly changed.
”I had rather not think of that, mother,” he said, in an altered voice.
Phaedra's face also changed. It was as if a thundercloud had suddenly crossed the sun, and darkened all the room. The mother spoke first, and her voice was deep and hollow, as she said:
”Valentine! Valentine! you have said that in ninety-nine days of a hundred you can govern your master. Oh, my son, pray G.o.d to give you grace on that hundredth day to govern yourself!”
”Mother! Mother! Why do you say that to me?” exclaimed the boy, with a shudder.
”I do not know why--or if I do, I dare not tell you. A heavy weight is on my heart; I cannot shake it off. You are going away soon! I must warn you now; I may not have another chance, or may not feel able to do it.
Oh, Valentine, learn self-control, try to keep your temper always under.
Ay! seek the grace of G.o.d; there is such a thing, though your poor mother has not got it, and only wishes she had. Seek it, Valentine--it is your best safety; in every time of trial and temptation, it is a steadfast support. I know it, though I haven't got it; I know it, because I've seen it in many others.”
Valentine was looking at her with the most intense expression of countenance.
”Anger is a short madness, is it not, mother? So it was with me, at least, when I was a boy; and how those frenzies of pa.s.sion, into which I would be thrown, used to terrify me when I came to my senses! I used to be haunted with a fear that, in some such mad and blind fury, I might----”
”Hus.h.!.+ oh, hus.h.!.+ Pray to G.o.d!” exclaimed Phaedra, turning pale.
”Well, but of late years I have been able to control myself, and have also suffered less provocation.”
”Ah, yes; less provocation.”
”Well, mother, I will promise you, faithfully, at least, to exercise habitual self-control. As for your other subject of anxiety, be at rest.
Oswald Waring has his fits of generosity, in which even his sensual love of his own comforts is forgotten. And I shall take advantage of one of those moods to procure our manumission--not that I am sure I shall leave him, even after that is obtained.”