Part 7 (2/2)

”I am asking you to give up your revenge. I know that is a great thing for a man to do. But, Will, dear, you stand in father's place, you are sitting in father's chair; what would he say to you?”

”He would say, 'Give the rascal a good thras.h.i.+ng, Will. When a man wrongs a woman, there is no other punishment for him. Thrash him to within an inch of his cruel, selfish, contemptible life!' That is what father would say, Aspatria. I know it, I feel it.”

”If you will not give up your revenge for me, nor yet for father, then I ask you for mother's sake! What would mother say to-night if she were here?--very like she is here. Listen to her, Will. She is saying, 'Spare my little girl any more sorrow and shame, Will, my boy Will!'--that is what mother would say. And if you hurt Ulfar you hurt me also, and if Ulfar hurts you my heart will break. The fell-side is ringing now with my troubles. If I have any more, I will go away where no one can find me. For mother's sake, Will! For mother's sake!”

The strong man was sobbing behind his hands, the struggle was a terrific one. Brune watched it with tears streaming unconsciously down his cheeks. Aspatria sunk at Will's feet, and buried her face on his knees.

”For mother's sake, Will! Let Ulfar go free.”

”My dear little la.s.s, I cannot!”

”For mother's sake, Will! I am speaking for mother! For mother's sake!”

”I--I--Oh, what shall I do, Brune?”

”For mother's sake, Will!”

He trembled until the chair shook. He dared not look at the weeping girl. She rose up. She gently moved away his hands. She kissed his eyelids. She said, with an irresistible entreaty: ”Look at me, Will. I am speaking for mother. Let Ulfar alone. I do not say forgive him.”

”Nay, I will never forgive him.”

”But let him alone. Will! Will! let him alone, for mother's sake!”

Then he stood up. He looked into Aspatria's eyes; he let his gaze wander to the crimson shawl. He began to sob like a child.

”You may go, Aspatria,” he said, in broken words. ”If you ask me anything in mother's name, I have no power to say no.”

He walked to the window and looked out into the dark stormy night, and Brune motioned to Aspatria to go away. He knew Will would regain himself better in her absence. She was glad to go. As soon as Will had granted her request, she fell to the lowest ebb of life. She could hardly drag herself up the long, dark stairs. She dropped asleep as soon as she reached her room.

It was a bitter awakening. The soul feels sorrow keenest at the first moments of consciousness. It has been away, perhaps, in happy scenes, or it has been lulling itself in deep repose, and then suddenly it is called to lift again the heavy burden of its daily life. Aspatria stood in her cold, dim room; and even while s.h.i.+vering in her thin night-dress, with bare feet treading the polished oak floor, she hastily put out of her sight the miserable wedding-garments. A large dower-chest stood conveniently near. She opened it wide, and flung dress and wreath and slippers and cloak into it. The lid fell from her hands with a great clang, and she said to herself, ”I will never open it again.”

The storm still continued. She dressed in simple household fas.h.i.+on, and went downstairs. Brune sat by the fire. He said: ”I was waiting for you, Aspatria. Will is in the barn. He had his coffee and bacon long ago.”

”Brune, will you be my friend through all this trouble?”

”I will stand by you through thick and thin, Aspatria. There is my hand on it.”

About great griefs we do not chatter; and there was no further discussion of those events which had been barely turned away from tragedy and death. Murder and despairing love and sorrow might have a secret dwelling-place in Seat-Ambar, but it was in the background. The front of life went on as smoothly as ever; the cows were milked, the sheep tended, the men and maids had their tasks, the beds were made, and the tables set, with the usual order and regularity.

And Aspatria found this ”habit of living” to be a good staff to lean upon. She a.s.sumed certain duties, and performed them; and the house was pleasanter for her oversight. Will and Brune came far oftener to sit at the parlour fireside, when they found Aspatria there to welcome them. And so the days and weeks followed one another, bringing with them those commonplace duties and interests which give to existence a sense of stability and order. No one spoke of Fenwick; but all the more Aspatria nursed his image in her heart and her imagination. He had dressed himself for his marriage with great care and splendour.

Never had he looked so handsome and so n.o.ble in her eyes, and never until that hour had she realized her social inferiority to him, her lack of polish and breeding, her ignorance of all things which a woman of birth and wealth ought to know and to possess.

This was a humiliating acknowledgment; but it was Aspatria's first upward step, for with it came an invincible determination to make herself worthy of her husband's love and companions.h.i.+p. The hope and the object gave a new colour to her life. As she went about her simple duties, as she sat alone in her room, as she listened to her brothers talking, it occupied, strengthened, and inspired her. Dark as the present was, it held the hope of a future which made her blush and tingle to its far-off joy. To learn everything, to go everywhere, to become a brilliant woman, a woman of the world, to make her husband admire and adore her,--these were the dreams that brightened the long, sombre winter, and turned the low dim rooms into a palace of enchantment.

She was aware of the difficulties in her way. She thought first of asking Will to permit her to go to a school in London. But she knew he would never consent. She had no friends to whom she could confide her innocent plans, she had as yet no money in her own control. But in less than two years she would be of age. Her fortune would then be at her disposal, and the law would permit her to order her own life. In the mean time she could read and study at home: when the spring came she would see the vicar, and he would lend her books from his library.

There was an Encyclopaedia in the house; she got together its scattered volumes, and began to make herself familiar with its _melange_ of information.

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