Part 20 (1/2)
”A land of very favorable productions,” replied the brother, with a mischievous smile.
During the short visit the war excitement was spreading wider and wider, and its symptoms became more and more positive. In the cities the alarm raged like an epidemic in certain circles, while there were a few who denounced the whole affair, a cooling draught quite inefficient to keep down the devouring fever. Great preparations were being made in Charleston, and a few other places were following its lead, so that, should the campaign really open in the spring, as was prophesied, they might be ready. Mr. St. Clair was one of the number who thought it not well to go to fighting. ”To be sure,” he would say, good-naturedly, ”Uncle Sam is getting rather plethoric, and it may be well to give him a little fright,” but he never would advocate the idea of the breaking up of households. ”No doubt it would be a very fine thing to tumble down the old national structure after it was done we were sure of walking in over the ruins and building up to suit our own notions.” But to tell the truth he was a little afraid of the old giant. He had learned that his locks might grow again, crop them ever so short. The safest way, he thought, was to let well enough alone.
His son was much of the same opinion, but if the house must be divided against itself he would not let it fall into ruin without a struggle.
Therefore, in a few days after the little party had returned to the city, George St. Clair started for Charleston. Lily was in ecstacy as they drew near Savannah. The sea, the great glorious sea, was before her, and the music of its distant waves thrilled every fibre of her being. It recalled the fancied dream of her childhood when she longed to go out and lay her head on the billows and become a part of its restless life.
Charles Belmont, who had gone to the city a few days before, was at the St. Clair's on their arrival and gave them a hearty welcome. Had he thought that little Phebe, as the adopted daughter of the wealthy Virginia planter, would do to reign at Rosedale?
A long programme was soon made out for the pleasures of the next few weeks. There were rides and public entertainments, select dinner parties and little _tete a tete's_, besides one grand, brilliant soiree at the senator's mansion which Lily must not fail to attend!
”It is so lucky that Charles Belmont has not left us,” remarked Ellen while talking it all over. ”He is a most graceful _chaperon_ and it stands us in hand to court his favor. You will not refuse him, Lily?”
she continued with an arch smile. ”He seems well pleased to be called into service.” Thus the weeks pa.s.sed away. The violets peered out from their beds of green along the garden borders and the daffodils turned their broad faces to the sun, and yet Mr. g.a.y.l.o.r.d did not come south after his wife. He was in Richmond with the leading men of the day discussing the great topics under consideration, while Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d grew weary with her long visit and more and more nervous with its daily protraction. After much urging and earnest solicitation by her friends she consented to follow Lily to the city, and she soon found herself forgetting, when once the guest of Mrs. St. Clair, that the time had hung heavily. The widowed Bertha became much attached to the pale little visitor, and found great consolation in pouring her sorrows into her attentive ear. One day she came abruptly into the room where Mrs.
g.a.y.l.o.r.d was sitting alone and saw tears upon her cheeks still undried.
”Then you too grieve sometimes,” she remarked, laying her white hand affectionately on the bowed head. ”How true it is that we find shadows where we should least expect them! But then it must be sad never to feel well!”
”O no, dear; it is not that! I seldom if ever have wept because of physical suffering. I consider my pains and aches an indispensable part of the programme of life. We all need a certain amount of refining in order to ascertain how much gold will remain, if any; therefore I bear all this because there is wisdom in it and an end to be accomplished.”
”One would scarcely imagine that you could have a greater reason for sorrow.”
”Perhaps not, and yet I surprised you with tears. Shall I tell you why?
No idle fancy of mine but only a few innocent lines, the product, no doubt, of an experience similar to my own. Let me read them to you. 'We cannot judge of what the heart contains by the laughter that escapes the lips or the smiles that flit across and illumine the face, any more than we can fathom the soundless deep or discover the contents of its dark chambers by the sunbeams that lie upon its surface. A crown of diamonds and precious stones is a thing of beauty, but when lined with thorns and pressed down by its heavy weight of wealth on the pierced and bleeding temples it will lose its preciousness as it becomes a crown of torture!
Thus many blessings, priceless in themselves, may become our greatest source of misery if a cruel hand twines thorns among them. Our most serious wounds are those that no eye can discover because of their depth.' May you not realize all this Mrs. Mason. _I_ know it! This is the reason why your words, dropped one by one into the fountain of my soul, create such a melancholy echo!”
”I confess that I am astonished. Rich, talented and beloved; how can there be such pitiful wailings in your poor heart? Were I expecting my husband as you are yours, or had he died where his last words could have been breathed into my ear I think I could hush every other saddened echo and call myself happy. But to have the light of life suddenly blown out, and with a great shock find yourself in total darkness, covers the heart with a pall hard to remove. Then to feel through the whole night that it need not have been! O--you never can know! '_The code of honor!_' My soul detests such chivalry!” and the bright eyes glared wildly into the face of her companion.
”My poor friend! The tenderest sympathies of my heart are yours! I am ashamed of my weakness; and yet there are many avenues to the soul through which the bitter waters flow. One of these, it may be, is the closing up of those through which the real practical benefits are expected to enter, leaving room only for the unreal and the unpractical.
Here I feel is my fault. It is this binding up of my whole being with these silver cords, upon which every external incident has a power like the touch of electricity to fill my whole soul with discord. In my youth I very foolishly drew my own panorama of coming events, in which I left out everything that was rough or unsightly; in a word, filling up the future with ideal loveliness. I thought my life's path would soon begin to wind along through the valley of roses where no harsh winds ever blow and no dark shadows ever shut out the glowing sunlight. But the time when my slippered feet were to tread on thornless flowers has not arrived. I ought to be ashamed of myself ever to have expected it. It is not in my power to disjoint my nature and reconstruct it with iron! That I was so organized is my misfortune, not my crime!”
”Does all this make you unhappy? It seems to me that a nature so full of beauty or what you term 'unrealities' ought to have a source of joy all its own.”
”If one could live to herself it might be so; but it is for the practical that we were created, for this we are chosen. Fail in the power of bestowal and verily we are guilty of the whole. I am a failure!
It is my mission to sow dew-drops where wheat should have been scattered, to covet sunbeams when clouds are more to the purpose! It is not pleasant, surely, to awaken after a gentle nap of self-repose to find that a grave has been dug with your 'incapacities' which has swallowed up the love you once fondly expected would gild a whole life with roseate hues!”
”_Love you?_ Why everyone loves _you_! Your husband idolizes you! Is it not so?”
”Go look at my wardrobe; is anything deficient there? My jewels--are they not the richest and rarest? But with it all my woman's heart is still unsatisfied. Ah, there is Lily; I hear her coming up the stairs.
She has, the foolish child, the same wild longings, the same idealities that goad me. It was these that woke my heart to her cry for love.”
Lily came bounding into the room her cheeks and eyes bright with the excitement of her morning ride.
”I am so sorry you did not go with us,” she said as she kissed the pale lips of her dearest friend. ”I am sure it would have taken all of the pain out of your head, the air is so pure and sweet. Besides Charles is to return to Rosedale to-morrow where his mother will follow in a few days, and Ellen will not trust herself with the new coachman, he is so easily frightened, the horses are so spirited; and Mrs. Belmont is almost as bad. She says she really believes he would jump from the box and run if they should put up their ears a little higher than usual. But you shall have one more ride, and if he deserts his post I will take it.
That would be only the exercise of one of my early accomplishments.
Dear old Rover,” she continued, half to herself. Where was Willie?
Frequent letters a.s.sured her that he was doing nicely in his new vocation, while her constant memories of him added to his content as new prospects opened before him.
Mrs. Belmont insisted that Lily should spend one day at least with her before leaving the city, and as Mr. g.a.y.l.o.r.d was expected soon her request was speedily granted.