Part 36 (1/2)
”Was not Cain's punishment greater than he could bear?
”When they came to me as I lay in my despair across the threshold of his door, and told me that the light of those beautiful eyes was quenched forever; that I should never meet that loving glance again, that he was blind--blind--and that it was my hand that had done it; then it was that in my agony I breathed the vow that I would remove their curse from them, that I would wander forth, Cain-like, into the great world, until my punishment was in some degree commensurate with my sin. Fern, I have never faltered in my purpose. I have never repented of my resolve, though their love has sought to recall me, and I know that in their hearts they have forgiven me. I have worked, and wept, and prayed, and my expiation has not been in vain.
”In the Crystal you know, you will hardly find a trace of the high-spirited girl that Raby loved, nay, that he loves still. Ah, I know it all now; how he seeks for his darling, and makes it his life purpose to find her, and bring her back to peace. I know how even in his intolerable anguish he prayed them to have mercy upon me, and to spare me the awful truth. I have seen his face, that changed blind face of his. I have ministered to him with these hands, I have heard his dear voice, and yet I have not betrayed myself.”
”Crystal,” sobbed Fern, and indeed she could scarcely speak for her tears, she was so moved by this pitiful story, ”if I were you I would go back to-morrow; how can you, how can you leave him, when he needs you so?”
”I go back to him?” repeated the other girl, mournfully. ”I who have blighted his life and darkened his days; who have made his existence a long night? I who have robbed him of the glory of his priesthood, and made him what he is, a wreck of his former self?”
”Yes,” was the steady answer. ”I would go back to him and be his eyes, though his goodness humbled me in the dust. Ah, Crystal, are you worse than she out of whom the Saviour cast seven devils, and who loved much because much had been forgiven her.”
”Hush, hus.h.!.+ you do not know, Fern!”
”My darling, I do know,” persisted Fern, gently, ”and I tell you that it is your duty to go back to Raby, who loves you so. Nay,” she continued, as a deep blush rose to Crystal's olive cheek, ”he never cared for this Mona--your own words have proved that. Go back to him, and be the light of his eyes, and take his darkness from him, for I see plainly that he will never leave off seeking you, and you only.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE TALL YOUNG LADY IN BROWN.
Not enjoyment and not sorrow Is our destined end or way; But to act that each to-morrow Finds us further than to-day
In the world's broad field of battle In the bivouac of life Be not like dumb driven cattle, Be a hero in the strife.
LONGFELLOW.
As Fern finished her little speech, Crystal hid her face in her hands, but there was no answer--only the sound of a deep-drawn sob was distinctly audible. A few minutes afterward she raised it, and in the moonlight Fern could see it was streaming with tears.
”Do not say any more,” she implored; ”do you think my own heart does not tell me all that, but I will not go back yet; the flaming sword of conscience still bars my way to my Paradise. Fern, do you know why I have told you my story? It is because I am going away, and I want you to promise me something, and there is no one else I can ask; no, not your mother,” as Fern looked surprised at this, ”she has enough to trouble her.”
”What is it?” asked Fern, rather timidly.
”I am going away,” returned Crystal, ”and one never knows what may happen. I am young, but life is uncertain. If I never come back, if anything befalls me, will you with your own hands give this to Raby,”
and as she spoke, she drew from her bosom a thick white envelope sealed and directed, and placed it in Fern's lap. As it lay there Fern could read the inscription: ”To be given to the Rev. Raby Ferrers, after my death.”
”Oh, Crystal,” she exclaimed, with a s.h.i.+ver, ”what could happen to you. You are young--not one-and-twenty yet--and your health is good, and--” but Crystal interrupted her with a strange smile.
”Yes, it is true; but the young and the strong have to die sometimes; when the call comes we must go. Do not look so frightened, Fern, I will not die if I can help it; but if it should be so, will you with your own hands give that to Raby; it will tell him what I have suffered, and--and it will comfort him a little.”
”Yes, dear, I will do it;” and Fern leaned forward and kissed her softly. The moon was s.h.i.+ning brightly now, and in the clear white light Fern noticed for the first time how thin and pale Crystal looked; how her cheek, and even her slight supple figure, had lost their roundness. There were deep hollows in the temples, dark lines under the dark eyes, in spite of her beauty she was fearfully wan. The grief that preyed upon her would soon ravage her good looks. For the first time Fern felt a vague fear oppressing her, but she had no opportunity to say more, for at that moment Crystal rose quickly from her seat.
”You have promised,” she said, gratefully; ”thank you for that. It is a great trust, Fern, but I know I can rely on you. Now I can talk no more. If your mother comes in, will you tell her about Miss Campion. I think she will be glad for many reasons. Now I will try and sleep, for there is much to be done to-morrow. Good night, my dear;” and the next moment Fern found herself alone in the moonlight.
When Mrs. Trafford returned, she heard the news very quietly.
”It will be better--much better,” she said, quickly. ”You must not fret about it, my sunbeam. Crystal is beginning to look ill; change and movement will do her good. Our life is very quiet. She has too much time to feed upon herself. She will be obliged to rouse herself among strangers.” And when Fern told her tearfully of the promise she had made, Mrs. Trafford only listened with a grave smile.
”Put it away safely, my dear; you will never have to give it, I hope; only it is a relief to the poor child to know you have it. Hers is a strange morbid nature. She is not yet humbled sufficiently. When she is, she will go back, like the Prodigal, and take the forgiveness that is waiting for her. Now, my darling, all this sad talk has made you look pale. You must try and forget it, and go to sleep.” But, for the first time in her healthy girlhood, sleep refused to come at Fern's bidding; and she lay restless and anxious, thinking of her friend's tragical story until the gray dawn ushered in the new day.
The little household in Beulah Place were very busy during the next few days. The girls went out shopping together to replenish Crystal's modest wardrobe, and then sat working until nearly midnight to complete the new traveling dress. Fern was putting the final st.i.tches on the last afternoon while Crystal went to bid good-bye to her pupils. The black trunk in the girl's room was already packed, for she was to start early in the morning.
Percy had not yet heard the news; he had been away from town the last week, to Crystal's great relief. She had begged Mrs. Trafford and Fern to say nothing about her movements. He might appear at any moment, and Crystal dreaded a scene if he heard of her approaching departure.