Part 42 (1/2)
If you had not been so insensible to shame as you are to remorse, how could you, after your great crime, take possession of my house and, by so doing, turn my mother and sisters from their home and banish me from my country? For well you know that, while you live at Brudenell Hall, my family cannot re-enter its walls! Nay, more--while you choose to reside in America, I must remain an exile in Europe. The same hemisphere is not broad enough to contain the Countess of Hurstmonceux and Herman Brudenell.
”I have given you a long time to come to your senses and leave my house. Now my patience is exhausted, and I require you to depart.
You are not embarra.s.sed for a home or a support: if you were I should afford you both, on condition of your departure from America. But my whole patrimony would be but a mite added to your treasures.
”You have country-seats in England, Scotland, and Ireland, as well as a town house in London, a marine villa at Boulougne, and a Swiss cottage on Lake Leman. All these are your own; and you shall never be molested by me in your exclusive possession of them. Choose your residence from among them, and leave me in peaceable possession of the one modest countryhouse I have inherited in my native land. I wish to sell it.
”But you doubtless have informed yourself before this time, that by the laws of the State in which my property is situated, a man cannot sell his homestead without the consent of his wife. Your co-operation is therefore necessary in the sale of Brudenell Hall.
I wish you to put yourself in immediate communication with my solicitors, Messrs. Kage & Kage, Monument Street, Baltimore, who are in possession of my instructions. Do this promptly, and win from me the only return you have left it in my power to make you--oblivion of your crimes and of yourself.
”Herman Brudenell.”
With the calmness of despair Berenice read this cruel letter through to the end, and dropped it on her lap, and sat staring at it in silence.
Then, as if incredulous of its contents, or doubtful of its meaning, she took it up and read it again, and again let it fall. And yet a third time--after rapidly pa.s.sing her hand to and fro across her forehead, as if that action would clear her vision--she raised, re-perused, and laid aside the letter. Then she firmly set her teeth, and slowly nodded her head, while for an instant a startling light gleamed from her deep black eyes.
Her faithful attendant, while seeming to be busy arranging the flasks on the dressing-table, furtively and anxiously watched her mistress, who at last spoke:
”Phoebe!”
”Yes, my lady.”
”Bring me a gla.s.s of wine.”
The girl brought the required stimulant, and in handing it to her mistress noticed how deadly white her face had become. And as the countess took the gla.s.s from the little silver waiter her hand came in contact with that of Phoebe, and the girl felt as if an icicle had touched her, so cold it was.
”Now wheel my writing-desk forward,” said the countess, as she sipped her wine.
The order was obeyed.
”And now,” continued the lady, as she replaced the gla.s.s and opened her desk, ”pack up my wardrobe and jewels, and your own clothes. Order the carriage to be at the door at eight o'clock, to take us to Baymouth. We leave Baymouth for New York to-morrow morning, and New York for Liverpool next Sat.u.r.day.”
”Now, glory be to Heaven for that, my lady; and I wish it had been years ago instead of to-day!” joyfully exclaimed the girl, as she went about her business.
”And so do I! And so do I, with all my heart and soul!” thought Berenice, as she arranged her papers and took up a pen to write. In an instant she laid it down again, and arose and walked restlessly up and down the floor, wringing her hands, and muttering to herself:
”And this is the man for whose sake I sacrificed home, friends, country, and the most splendid prospects that ever dazzled the imagination of woman! This is the man whom I have loved and watched and prayed for, all these long years, hoping against hope, and believing against knowledge.
If he had ceased to love me, grown tired of me, and wished to be rid of me, could he not have told me so, frankly, from the first? It would have been less cruel than to have inflicted on me this long anguish of suspense! less cowardly than to have attempted to justify his desertion of me by a charge of crime! What crime--he knows no more than I do! Oh, Herman! Herman! how could you fall so low? But I will not reproach you even in my thoughts. But I must, I must forget you!”
She returned to her desk, sat down and took up her pen; but again she dropped it, bowed her head upon her desk, and wept:
”Oh, Herman! Herman! must I never hope to meet you again? never look into your dark eyes, never clasp your hand, or hear your voice again?
never more? never more! Must mine be the hand that writes our sentence of separation? I cannot! oh! I cannot do it, Herman! And yet!--it is you who require it!”
After a few minutes she took up his letter and read it over for the fourth time. Its ruthless implacability seemed to give her the strength necessary to obey its behests. As if fearing another failure of her resolution, she wrote at once:
”Brudenell Hall, December 30, 18--
”Mr. Brudenell: Your letter has relieved me from an embarra.s.sing position. I beg your pardon for having been for so long a period an unconscious usurper of your premises. I had mistaken this place for my husband's house and my proper home. My mistake, however, has not extended to the appropriation of the revenues of the estate. You will find every dollar of those placed to your credit in the Planters' Bank of Baymouth. My mistake has been limited to the occupancy of the house. For that wrong I shall make what reparation remains in my power. I shall leave this place this Friday evening; see your solicitors on Monday; place in their hands a sum equivalent to the full value of Brudenell Hall, as a compensation to you for my long use of the house; and then sign whatever doc.u.ments may be necessary to renounce all claim upon yourself and your estate, and to free you forever from