Part 49 (1/2)
”Say it once more--De Neufville is dead?”
Ephraim enjoyed for a moment, in silence, Gotzkowsky's terrible grief.
He then freed himself from his grasp and opened the door. But turning round once more, and looking in Gotzkowsky's face with a devilish grin, he slowly added, ”De Neufville killed himself because he could not survive disgrace.” And then, with a loud laugh, he slammed the door behind him.
Gotzkowsky stared after him, and his soul was full of inexpressible grief. He had lost in De Neufville not only a friend whom he loved, and on whose fidelity he could count, but his own future and his last hope were buried in his grave. But his own tormenting thoughts left him no leisure to mourn over his deceased friend. It was the kind of death that De Neufville had chosen which occupied his mind.
”He came to his death by his own hand; he did not wish to survive his disgrace. He has done right--for when disgrace begins, life ends--and shall I live,” asked he aloud, as almost angrily he threw his head back, ”an existence without honor, an existence of ignominy and misery? I repeat it, De Neufville has done right. Well, then, I dare not do wrong; my friend has shown me the way. Shall I follow him? Let me consider it.”
He cast a wild, searching look around the room, as if he feared some eye might be looking at him, and read desperate thoughts in the quivering of his face. ”Yes! I will consider it,” whispered he, uneasily. ”But not here--there in my cabinet, where every thing is so silent and solitary, no one will disturb me. I will think of it, I say.” And with a dismal smile he hurried into his study, and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER XIV.
ELISE.
The bridal costume was completed, and with a bright face, smiling and weeping for sheer happiness, Elise stood looking at herself in a large Venetian mirror. Not from vanity, nor to enjoy the contemplation of her beauty, but to convince herself that all this was not a dream, only truth, delightful truth. The maiden, with blus.h.i.+ng cheeks, stood and looked in the gla.s.s, in her white dress, till she smiled back again; so like a bride, that she shouted aloud for joy, kissed her hand to herself, in the fulness of her mirth, as she greeted and smiled again to her image in the mirror. ”I salute you, happy bride!”
said she, in the exuberance of her joy. ”I see in your eyes that you are happy, and so may G.o.d bless you! Go forth into the world and teach it by your example, that for a woman there is no happiness but love, no bliss but that of resting in the arms of her lover. But am I not too simply clad?” cried she, interrupting herself suddenly, and examining herself critically in the gla.s.s. ”Yes, indeed, that simple, silly child is not worthy of such a handsome and splendid cavalier: a white silk dress and nothing else! How thoughtless and foolish has happiness made me! My Heaven! I forgot that he comes from the land of diamonds, and that he is a prince. Oh! I will adorn myself for my prince.” And she took from her desk the costly set of diamonds, the legacy of her mother, and fastened the glittering brilliants in her ears, on her arms, and the necklace set with diamonds and emeralds around her snow-white neck.
”Now that looks splendid,” said she, as she surveyed herself again.
”Now perhaps I may please him. But the last ornament is still wanting--my myrtle-wreath--but that my father shall put on.” Looking at the wreath, she continued, in a more serious and sad tone: ”Crown of love and of death! it is woven in the maiden's hair when she dies as a maiden, whether it be to arise again as a wife or as a purified spirit.” And raising her tearful eyes to heaven, she exclaimed: ”I thank Thee, O G.o.d, for granting me all this happiness. My whole life, my whole future, shall evince but grat.i.tude toward Thee, who art the G.o.d of love.”
Soon, however, it became too close and solitary in this silent chamber. She wished to go to her father, to throw herself on his breast, to pour out to him all her happiness, her affection, her joy, in words of thankfulness, of tender child-like love. How the white satin dress rustled and shone! how the diamonds sparkled and glittered, as, meteor-like, they flitted down the dark corridor! With a bright, happy smile, holding the wreath in her hand, she stepped into her father's room. But the apartment was empty. She crossed it in haste to seek him in his study. The doors were locked and no one answered her loud calls. She supposed he had gone out, and would doubtless soon return. She sat down to await him, and soon sank into deep thought and reverie. What sweet and precious dreams played around her, and greeted her with happy bodings of the future!
The door opened, and she started up to meet her father. But it was not her father--it was Bertram. And how altered--how pale and troubled he looked! He hardly noticed her, and his eye gleamed on her without seeing her. What was it that had so changed him? Perhaps he already knew that she was to be married to-day, and that her lover, so long mourned, had returned to her. She asked confusedly and anxiously for her father.
”My G.o.d! is he not here, then?” asked Bertram in reply. ”I must speak to him, for I have things of the greatest importance to tell him.”
Elise looked at him with inquiring astonishment. She had never seen him so intensely excited in his whole being, and unwillingly she asked the cause of his trouble and anxiety.
Bertram denied feeling any anxiety, and yet his eye wandered around searchingly and uneasily, and his whole frame was restless and anxious. This only made Elise the more eager to find out the cause of his trouble. She became more pressing, and Bertram again a.s.sured her that nothing had happened.
Elise shook her head distrustfully. ”And yet I do not deceive myself!
Misfortune stands written on your brow.” Then, turning pale with terror, she asked, ”Do you bring my father bad news?”
Bertram did not answer, but cast his eyes on the ground to escape her searching gaze. There awoke in her breast all the anxiety and care of a loving daughter, and she trembled violently as she implored him to inform her of the danger that threatened her father. He could withstand her no longer. ”She must learn it some time; it is better she should hear it from me,” muttered he to himself. He took her hand, led her to the sofa, and, sitting down by her side, imparted to her slowly and carefully, always endeavoring to spare her feelings, the terrible troubles and misfortunes of her father. But Elise was little acquainted with the material cares of life. She, who had never known any extreme distress, any real want, could not understand how happiness and honor could depend on money. When Bertram had finished, she drew a long breath, as if relieved from some oppressive anxiety.
”How you have frightened me!” said she, smiling. ”Is that all the trouble--we are to be poor? Well, my father does not care much about money.”
”But he does about his honor,” said Bertram.
”Oh, the honor of my father cannot stand in any danger,” cried Elise, with n.o.ble pride.
Bertram shook his head. ”But it is in danger, and though _we_ are convinced of his innocence, the world will not believe it. It will forget all his n.o.ble deeds, all his high-mindedness and liberality, it will obliterate all his past, and only remember that this day, for the first time in his life, he has it not in his power to fulfil his word.
It will condemn him as if he were a common cheat, and brand him with the disgraceful name of bankrupt.” With increasing dismay Elise had watched his countenance as he spoke. Now, for the first time, the whole extent of the misfortune which was about to befall her father seemed to enter her mind, and she felt trembling and crushed. She could feel or think of nothing now but the evil which was rus.h.i.+ng in upon her parent, and with clasped hands and tears in her eyes she asked Bertram if there was no more hope; if there was no one who could avert this evil from her father.
Bertram shook his head sadly. ”His credit is gone--no one comes to his a.s.sistance.”
”No one?” asked Elise, putting her hand with an indescribable expression on his shoulder. ”And you, my brother?”