A Life For a Love Part 50

"Tell me what you saw, madam," she said. "Describe your beautiful picture."

Valentine obeyed with the docility of a child.

"It was a seaside picture," she began. "The sun was setting, and there was a path of light across the waters. The path seemed to go right up into the sky, and melt, and end there. And I--I thought of Jacob's ladder, from earth to heaven, and the angels walking up and down. On the sh.o.r.e a man and a girl sat. He had his arm round her waist; and she was filling her hands with the warm soft sand and letting it dribble away through her fingers. She was happy. She felt warm and contented, and protected against the whole world. Although she did not know that she loved it so much, it was the arm that encircled her that gave her that feeling."

Valentine stopped suddenly.

"That was a pretty picture, madam," said Esther. "A pretty picture, and you described it well. I suppose the gentleman was the girl's lover or husband."

"Her lover and husband in one. They were married. They sat like that once during their honeymoon. Presently he, the husband, took up his violin, which he had beside him, and began to play."

"Don't go into the music part, please, Mrs. Wyndham. I want just to keep to the picture alone. I want to guess something. I am good at guessing. You were the happy young girl."

"I was; oh, I was."

"And the gentleman was your husband; yes, your husband, whom you dearly loved."

"Don't talk of him, he is lost, gone. Esther, I'm a miserable, miserable woman."

Her icy quiet was broken up. Long-drawn sobs escaped her; she shivered as she wept.

"It is an awful thing to love too late--to love loo late," she moaned.

"Madam, I'm going to give you some sal-volatile and water: when you have taken it you shall tell me the whole story from first to last.

Yes, you had better; you have said too much or too little. I may be able to comfort you if I know all."

Esther administered the restorative. When the distressful sobs were quieted, and Mrs. Wyndham lay back exhausted on her pillow, she took her hand, and said with infinite tact and tenderness:--

"You love him you have lost very deeply. Is that not so?"

"Beyond words to describe."

"You were young when you were married, Mrs. Wyndham; you are a very young woman still. Perhaps, as a young girl, as almost a child-girl, you did not know what great love meant."

"I always knew what great love meant. As a little girl I used to idolize my father. I remember when I was very young, not much older than baby here, lying down on the floor and kissing the carpet over which his steps had walked. I used to steal into his study and sit like a mouse; perfectly happy while I was watching him. When I saw his face that was bliss; when he took me in his arms I thought Heaven could give me no more. You are an only child, Esther Helps. Did you feel like that for your father?"

"No, madam, I always loved my father after a quiet fashion; I love him after a quiet fashion still. That kind of intense love I did not know.

And you feel it still for Mr. Paget? I suppose it is natural. He is a handsome gentleman; he has a way about him that attracts people. For instance, my father would do anything for him. It is still bliss to you, Mrs. Wyndham, to watch your father's face."

"Come near to me, Esther; let me whisper to you. That love which I thought unquenchable is--dead!"

"Madam, you astonish me! Dead?"

"It died, Esther Helps, on the morning my husband sailed away."

"Then you only love your husband now?"

"I love many people. For instance, this little child; for instance, my sister Lilias. What I feel for my husband is high above all these things. I cannot describe it. It lies here--in my heart--and my heart aches, and aches."

"It would make Mr. Wyndham very happy to hear you," said Esther.

Her words were unguarded. Valentine began to sob feebly.

"He can never hear me," she said. "That is the dreadful part. I loved him when we were married, but I did not know it. Then the knowledge came to me, and I was so happy. One evening I told him so. I said, 'I love you!' I shall never forget his face. Often he was sad, but his face seemed to shine when I said those words, and he took me in his arms, and I saw a little way into the depth of his great heart. Soon after that something happened--I am not going to tell it, it doesn't matter--please don't hold my hand, Esther. It is very queer that _you_ should be with me to-night."

"Why, dear madam? Don't you like to have me with you?"

"I think I do. I really quite think I do. Still it is strange that you should be here."

"Your story interests me wonderfully, Mrs. Wyndham. Will you tell me more?"

"There is not a great deal to tell. For a time I misunderstood my husband, and the love which really filled my heart seemed to go back and back and back like the waves when the tide is going out. Then the time came for him to go to Sydney. He could not say good-bye; he wrote good-bye. He said a strange thing in the middle of the letter; he asked me if I really loved him to join him the next morning on board the _Esperance_. Loved him! Of course I loved him! I was so relieved.

Everything was made clear to me. He was first--all others everywhere were second. My father came in, and I told him what I meant to do. He was angry, and tried to dissuade me. When he saw that I would not yield he appeared to consent, and promised to go with me the next morning to Southampton. The _Esperance_ was not to sail until noon. There seemed lots of time. Still, for the first time, I began to doubt my father. I determined not to wait for the train he had arranged to travel by with me, but to go down by a much earlier one. I went to Southampton with a German maid I had at the time. We arrived there at eight in the morning, we reached the docks soon after nine, the _Esperance_ was away--she had sailed at eight. Don't question me about that day, Esther Helps. It was on that day my love for my father died."

CHAPTER XLVII.

It was nearly morning before Mrs. Wyndham fell asleep. Before then, Esther had said a good deal.

"I am not surprised at your loving your husband," she began. "Men like your husband are worth loving. They are loyal, true, and n.o.ble. They make the world a better place. Once your husband helped me. I am going to tell you the story.

"Three years ago, Mrs. Wyndham, I was a very different girl from the one who now is by your side. I was handsome, and vain, and empty-headed. I thought most of dress and of flirting. I had the silliest form of ambition. I wanted to be a gentleman's wife. My mother had been a lady by birth, and I thought it was only due to me to be the same. My only chance of becoming a lady was by marrying a gentleman, and I thought surely someone would be found who would make me his wife for the sake of my handsome face. I had nothing else to recommend me, Mrs. Wyndham, for I was empty-headed and untrained, and I had a shallow, vulgar soul.

"One day I was skating in Regent's Park with some friends. I fell on the ice and hurt my foot. A gentleman picked me up. I looked into his face in the bold way I had, and then all of a sudden I felt ashamed of myself, and I looked down, and a modest, humble womanly feeling crept over me. The gentleman was your husband, Mr. Wyndham; the expression on his face impressed me, and I could not forget it. He came to our house that evening and brought a book to my father, and a present of flowers from you to me. I felt quite silent and queer when he was in the room; I did not talk, but I listened to every word he said. He was so uncommon. I thought what a clergyman he'd make, and how, if he were as eloquent in his words as in his looks, he might make us all good in spite of ourselves. He made a great impression on me, and I did not like to think my low silly thoughts after he had gone.

"Soon afterwards I made the acquaintance of a Captain Herriot, in the --th Hussars; he was a very fine gentleman, and had very fine words, and although I did not love him a bit nor a sc.r.a.p, he turned my head with his flattery. He did go on about my face--I don't know how I ever was goose enough to believe him. He managed to get my secrets out of me though, and when I told him that I meant to be a gentleman's wife some day, he said that he was the gentleman, and that I should marry him, and him alone. I thought that would be fine, and I believed him. He made all arrangements--oh, how I hate to think of what I afterwards saw was his real meaning.

"I was not to let out a thing to my father, and on a certain night we were to go together to the Gaiety, and he was to take me home afterwards, and the next morning we were to go to church and be married. He showed me the license and the ring, and I believed everything, and thought it would be fine to be the wife of Captain Herriot.

"I kept my secret from my father, but Cherry, a cousin who lives with us, got some of it out of me, for I was mad with vain triumph, and it was indirectly through her that I came to be delivered. The night arrived, and I went away from my home thinking how proudly I'd come back to show myself in a day or two; and how Cherry would open her eyes when I told her I was the wife of Captain Herriot, of the --th Hussars.

I reached the theatre, and Captain Herriot gave me his arm, and led me into the house, and we took our places in the stalls. People turned and looked at me, and Captain Herriot said it was no wonder, for I was the most beautiful woman in the Gaiety that night.

"Then the curtain rose, the house was darkened, and some one took the empty stall at my other side. I turned my head, Mr. Wyndham was sitting near me. He said a courteous word or two. I bowed my head; I could not speak. Madam, I did not see that play; I was there, looking on, but I saw nothing. Captain Herriot whispered in my ear; I pushed away from him. Suddenly he was horrible to me. I felt like a girl who was placed between an angel and a devil. Instantly the mask fell from my eyes.

Captain Herriot meant to ruin me, never to marry me. Mr. Wyndham scarcely said a word to me till the play was over, then he spoke.

"'Your father wants you,' he said. 'Here is a cab, get into it. I will take you to your father.'

"He spoke out, quite loud and clear. I thought Captain Herriot would have fought him. Not a bit of it. His face turned an ugly color. He took off his hat to me, and slunk away through the crowd. That was the last straw. He had not even spirit to fight for the girl who thought she was about to become his wife.

"Mr. Wyndham got on the box of the cab, and took me to Mr. Paget's offices. My old father came out, and helped me out of the cab, and put his arms round me. He wrung Mr. Wyndham's hand, and said 'G.o.d bless you, sir;' and then he led me inside, and told me how Cherry had betrayed me, and how he (my father) had taken that stall ticket intending to sit beside me that night, and give Captain Herriot a blow in his face afterwards, as he was known to be one of the greatest scoundrels going. Pressing business kept my father at the office that night, and Mr. Wyndham promised to go in his place.

"'There isn't another young gentleman who would do it,' said my father.

'No not another.'

"After that, madam, I was changed; yes, a good bit. I thought I'd live more worthy. Mr. Wyndham's face used to come between me and frivolous ways and vain sins. It seemed as if his were the hand to lead me up.