Part 37 (1/2)
As the man stopped and stared wildly about him he heard the woman's voice again, and sprang up; but Helen, terrified at his suffering, caught him by the arm, whispering, ”No, no, David, let me go in, I can take care of her.” And she forced her husband down on the sofa once more, and then ran into the next room. She found the woman again struggling to raise herself upon her trembling arms, staring about her and calling out incoherently. Helen rushed to her and took her hands in hers, trying to soothe her again.
But the woman staggered to her feet, oblivious of everything about her. ”Where is he? Where is he?” she gasped hoa.r.s.ely; ”he will come back!” She began calling David's name, and a moment later, as Helen tried to keep her quiet, she tore her hands loose and rushed blindly across the room, shrieking louder yet, ”David, where are you? Don't you know me, David?”
As Helen turned she saw that her husband had heard the cries and come to the doorway again; but it was all in vain, for the woman, though she looked at him, knew him no more; it was to a phantom of her own brain that she was calling, in the meantime pacing up and down, her voice rising higher and higher. She was reeling this way and that, and Helen, frightened at her violence, strove to restrain her, only to be flung off as if she had been a child; the woman rushed on, groping about her blindly and crying still, ”David! Tell me where is David!”
Then as David and Helen stood watching her in helpless misery her delirious mood changed, and she clutched her hands over her bosom, and shuddered, and moaned to herself, ”It is cold, oh, it is cold!”
Afterwards she burst into frantic sobbing, that choked her and shook all her frame; and again into wild peals of laughter; and then last of all she stopped and sprang back, staring in front of her with her whole face a picture of agonizing fright; she gave one wild scream after another and staggered and sank down at last upon the floor.
”Oh, it is he, it is he!” she cried, her voice sinking into a shudder; ”oh, spare me,--why should you beat me? Oh G.o.d, have mercy--have mercy!” Her cries rose again into a shriek that made Helen's blood run cold; she looked in terror at her husband, and saw that his face was white; in the meantime the wretched woman had flung herself down prostrate upon the floor, where she lay groveling and writhing.
That again, however, was only for a minute or two; she staggered up once more and rushed blindly across the room, crying, ”I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it! Oh, what have I done?” Then suddenly as she flung up her arms imploringly and staggered blindly on, she lurched forward and fell, striking her head against the corner of the table.
Helen started forward with a cry of alarm, but before she had taken half a dozen steps the woman had raised herself to her feet once more, and was staring at her, blinded by the blood which poured from a cut in her forehead. Her clothing was torn half from her, and her tangled hair streamed from her shoulders; she was a ghastly sight to behold, as, delirious with terror, she began once more rus.h.i.+ng this way and that about the room. The two who watched her were powerless to help her, and could only drink in the horror of it all and shudder, as with each minute the poor creature became more frantic and more desperate. All the while it was evident that her strength was fast leaving her; she staggered more and more, and at last she sank down upon her knees. She strove to rise again and found that she could not, but lurched and fell upon the floor; as she turned over and Helen saw her face, the sight was too much for the girl's self-control, and she buried her face in her hands and broke into frantic sobbing.
David in the meantime was crouching in the doorway, his gaze fixed upon the woman; he did not seem even to notice Helen's outburst, so lost was all his soul in the other sight. Fie saw that the stranger's convulsive efforts were weakening, and he staggered forward with a cry, and flung himself forward down on his knees beside her. ”Mary, Mary!” he called; but she did not heed him, tho he clasped her hands and shook her, gazing into her face imploringly. Her eyes were fixed upon him, but it was with a vacant stare; and then suddenly he started back with a cry of horror--”Great G.o.d, she is dying!”
The woman made a sudden fearful effort to lift herself, struggling and gasping, her face distorted with fierce agony; as it failed she sank back, and lay panting hard for breath; then a shudder pa.s.sed over her, and while David still stared, transfixed, a hoa.r.s.e rattle came from her throat, and her features became suddenly set in their dreadful pa.s.sion. In a moment more all was still; and David buried his face in his hands and sank down upon the corpse, without even a moan.
Afterwards, for a full minute there was not a sound in the room; Helen's sobbing had ceased, she had looked up and sat staring at the two figures,--until at last, with a sudden start of fright she sprang up and crept silently toward them. She glanced once at the woman's body, and then bent over David; as she felt that his heart was still beating, she caught him to her bosom, and knelt thus in terror, staring first into his white and tortured features, and then at the body on the floor.
Finally, however, she nerved herself, and tho she was trembling and exhausted, staggered to her feet with her burden; holding it tightly in her arms she went step by step, slowly and in silence out of the room. When she had pa.s.sed into the next one she shut the door and, sinking down upon the sofa, lifted David's broken figure beside her and locked it in her arms and was still. Thus she sat without a sound or a motion, her heart within her torn with fear and pain, all through the long hours of that night; when the cold, white dawn came up, she was still pressing him to her bosom, sobbing and whispering faintly, ”Oh, David! Oh, my poor, poor David!”
Hast du im Venusburg geweilt, So bist nun ewig du verdammt!
CHAPTER III
”Then said I, 'Woe is me! For I am undone;... for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts.'”
David's servant drove out early upon the following morning to tell him of a strange woman who had been asking for him in the village; they sent the man back for a doctor, and it was found that the poor creature was really dead.
They wished to take the body away, but David would not have it; and so, late in the afternoon, a grave was dug by the lake-sh.o.r.e near the little cottage, and what was left of Mary was buried there.
David was too exhausted to leave the house, and Helen would not stir from his side, so the two sat in silence until the ceremony was over, and the men had gone. The servant went with them, because the girl said they wished to be alone; and then the house settled down to its usual quietness,--a quietness that frightened Helen now.
For when she looked at her husband her heart scarcely beat for her terror; he was ghastly white, and his lips were trembling, and though he had not shed a tear all the day, there was a look of mournful despair on his face that told more fearfully than any words how utterly the soul within him was beaten and crushed. All that day he had been so, and as Helen remembered the man that had been before so strong and eager and brare, her whole soul stood still with awe; yet as before she could do nothing but cling to him, and gaze at him with bursting heart.
But at last when the hours had pa.s.sed and not a move had been made, she asked him faintly, ”David, is there no hope? Is it to be like this always?”
The man raised his eyes and gazed at her helplessly. ”Helen,” he said, his voice sounding hollow and strange, ”what can you ask of me? How can I bear to look about me again, how can I think of living? Oh, that night of horror! Helen, it burns my brain--it tortures my soul--it will drive me mad!” He buried his face in his hands again, shaking with emotion. ”Oh, I cannot ever forget it,” he whispered hoa.r.s.ely; ”it must haunt me, haunt me until I die! I must know that after all my years of struggle it was this that I made, it is this that stands for my life--and it is over, and gone from me forever and finished! Oh, G.o.d, was there ever such a horror flashed upon a guilty soul--ever such fiendish torture for a man to bear?
And Helen, there was a child, too--think how that thought must goad me--a child of mine, and I cannot ever aid it--it must suffer for its mother's shame. And think, if it were a woman, Helen--this madness must go on, and go on forever! Oh, where am I to hide me; and what can I do?”
There came no tears, but only a fearful sobbing; poor Helen whispered frantically, ”David, it was not your fault, you could not help it--surely you cannot be to blame for all this.”
He did not answer her, but after a long silence he went on in a deep, low voice, ”Helen, she was so beautiful! She has lived in my thoughts all these years as the figure that I used to see, so bright and so happy; I used to hear her singing in church, and the music was a kind of madness to me, because I knew that she loved me. And her home was a little farm-house, half buried in great trees, and I used to see her there with her flowers. Now--oh, think of her now--think of her life of shame and agony--think of her turned away from her home, and from all she loved in the world,--deserted and scorned, and helpless--think of her with child, and of the agony of her degradation! What must she not have suffered to be as she was last night--oh, are there tears enough in the world to pay for such a curse, for that twenty years' burden of wretchedness and sin? And she was beaten--oh, she was beaten--Mary, my poor, poor Mary! And to die in such horror, in drunkenness and madness! And now she is gone, and it is over; and oh, why should I live, what can I do?”
His voice dropped into a moan, and then again there was a long silence. At last Helen whispered, in a weak, trembling voice, ”David, you have still love; can that be nothing to you?”
”I have no right to love,” he groaned, ”no right to love, and I never had any. For oh, all my life this vision has haunted me--I knew that nothing but death could have saved her from shame! Yes, and I knew, too, that some day I must find her. I have carried the terror of that in my heart all these years. Yet I dared to take your love, and dared to fly from my sin; and then there comes this thunderbolt--oh, merciful heaven, it is too much to bear, too much to bear!” He sank down again; poor Helen could find no word of comfort, no utterance of her own bursting heart except the same frantic clasp of her love.
So the day went by over that shattered life; and each hour the man's despair grew more black, his grief and misery more hopeless. The girl watched him and followed him about as if she had been a child, but she could get him to take no food, and to divert his mind to anything else she dared not even try. He would sit for hours writhing in his torment, and then again he would spring up and pace the room in agitation, though he was too weak to bear that very long. Afterwards the long night came on, and all through it he lay tossing and moaning, sometimes shuddering in a kind of paroxysm of grief,--Helen, though she was weary and almost fainting, watching thro the whole night, her heart wild with her dread.