Anna St. Ives Part 69

Then, madam, avoid it! Spare both yourself and me the violence you forebode?

What! Sink before unruly pa.s.sion? Stand in awe of vice? Willingly administer to shameless appet.i.tes, and a malignant spirit of revenge?--Never, while I have life!

Stop!--Beware!--I am not master of my own affections! I am in a state little short of phrensy! Be the means fair or foul, mine you shall be--The decrees of Fate are not more fixed--I have sworn it, and though fire from Heaven waited to devour me, I will keep my oath!--Could you even yet but think of me as perhaps I deserve--! I say, could you, madam--

I cannot will not marry you! Nothing you can say, nothing you can threaten, nothing you can act shall make me!

Be less hasty in your contempt!--Fear me not!--Scorn for scorn, injury for injury, and hate for hate!

I hate only your errors! I scorn nothing but vice--On the virtues of which a mind like yours is capable my soul would dilate with ecstasy, and my heart would doat! But you have sold yourself to crookedness!

Base threats, unmanly terrors, and brute violence are your despicable engines!--Wretched man! They are impotent!--They turn upon yourself; me they cannot harm!--I am above you!

I care not for myself--I have already secured infamy--I have paid the price and will enjoy the forfeiture--Had you treated me with the generous ardent love I so early felt for you, all had been well--I the happiest of men, and you the first of women! But your own injustice has dug the pit into which we must all down--It is wide and welcome ruin!--Even now, contemned as I have been, scorned as I am, I would fain use lenity and feel kindness. I will take retribution--no power shall prevent me--but I would take it tenderly.

Oh shame upon you, man!--Tenderly?--Can the mischief and the misery in which you have involved yourself and so many others, can treachery, brutal force, bruises, imprisonment, and rape be coupled with tenderness? If you have any spark of n.o.ble feeling yet remaining in your heart, cherish it: but if not, speak truth to yourself! Do not attempt to varnish such foul and detestable guilt with fair words.

I would advise, not varnish! What I have done I have done--I know my doom--I am already branded! Opprobrium has set her indelible mark upon me! I am indexed to all eternity!

You mistake, Clifton!--Beware!--You mistake! You mistake! [It is impossible to imagine, Fairfax, the energy with which these exclamations burst from her--It was a fleeting but false cordial to my heart.] Of all your errors that is the most fatal! Whatever rooted prejudices or unjust laws may a.s.sert to the contrary, we are accountable only for what we do, not for what we have done. Clifton beware! Mark me--I owe you no enmity for the past: I combat only with the present.

Do not delude me with shadows. Bring your doctrine to the test: if you bear me no enmity, if what I have done can be forgotten, and what I would do--! Madam--! Anna--!--Once more, and for the last time--take me!

It cannot be!--It cannot be!

Then, since you will shew no mercy, expect none.

Your menaces are vain, man! I tell you again I do not fear you! I will beg no pity from you--I dare endure more than you dare inflict!

I am not to be braved from my purpose! The basis of nature is not more unshaken! High as your courage is, you will find a spirit in me that can mount still higher!

Courage? Oh shame! Name it not! Where was your courage when you decoyed my defender from me? The man you durst not face?--Where is he?--What have you done with him?--Laura has given you my letter--Should your practices have reached his life!--But no! It cannot be! An act so very vile as that not even the errors of your mind could reach!--Courage?--Even me you durst not face in freedom! Your courage employed a band of ruffians against me, singly; a woman too, over whom your manly valour would tower! But there is no such mighty difference as prejudice supposes. Courage has neither s.e.x nor form: it is an energy of mind, of which your base proceedings shew I have infinitely the most. This bids me stand firm, and meet your worst daring undauntedly! This be a.s.sured will make me the victor! I tell you, man, it places me above you!

Urge me no more!--Beware of me! You have driven me mad! Do not tempt a desperate man! Resistance will be destruction to you, no matter that to me it be perdition! My account is closed, and I am reconciled to ruin!--You shall be mine!--Though h.e.l.l gape for me you shall be mine!--Once more beware! I warn you not to contend!

Why, man, what would you do? Is murder your intent?--While I have life I fear you not!--And think you that brutality can taint the dead? Nay, think you that, were you endowed with the superior force which the vain name of man supposes, and could accomplish the basest purpose of your heart, I would falsely take guilt to myself; or imagine I had received the smallest blemish, from impurity which never reached my mind? That I would lament, or shun the world, or walk in open day oppressed by shame I did not merit? No!--For you perhaps I might weep, but for myself I would not shed a tear! Not a tear!--You cannot injure me--I am above you!--If you mean to deal me blows or death, here I stand ready to suffer: but till I am dead, or senseless, I defy you to do me harm!--Bethink you, Clifton! I see the struggles of your soul: there is virtue among them. Your eye speaks the reluctance of your hand. Your heart spurns at the mischief your pa.s.sions would perpetrate!--Remember--Unless you have recourse to some malignant, some cruel, some abominable means, you never shall accomplish so base a purpose!--But you cannot be so guilty, Clifton!--You cannot!--I know not by what perverse fatality you have been misled, for you have a mind fitted for the sublimest emanations of virtue!--No, you cannot!--There is something within you that lays too strong a hand upon you! Malice so black is beyond you! Your very soul abhors its own guilt, and is therefore driven frantic!--Oh, Clifton! You that were born to be the champion of truth, the instructor of error, and the glory of the earth!--My heart yearns over you--Awake!--Rise!--Be a man!

Divine, angelic creature!--Fool, madman, villain!

With these exclamations I instantly burst from the chamber--Conviction, astonishment, remorse, tenderness, all the pa.s.sions that could subdue the human soul rushed upon me, till I could support no more.

Of all the creatures G.o.d ever formed she is the most wonderful!--I have repeated something like her words; but had you seen her gestures, her countenance, her eye, her glowing indignant fort.i.tude at one moment, and her kindling comprehensive benevolence the next, like me you would have felt an irresistible impulse to catch some spark of a flame so heavenly!

And now what is to be done? I am torn by contending pa.s.sions!--If I release her there is an end to all; except to my disgrace, which will be everlasting--Give her to the arms of Henley?--I cannot bear it, Fairfax!--I cannot bear it!--Death, racks, infamy itself to such a thought were infinitude of bliss!

What can I do? She says truly: conquest over her, by any but brutal means, is impossible--Shall I be brutal?--And more brutal even than my own ruffian agents?

She has magnanimity--But what have those cyphers of beings who call themselves her relations? Shall they mount the dunghill of their vanity, clap their wings, and exult, as if they too had conquered a Clifton? Even the villain Mac Fane would not fail to scout at me! Nay the very go-between, the convenient chamber-maid herself, forgetting the lightness of her own heels, would bless herself and claim her share in the miraculous virtue of the s.e.x! What! Become the scoff of the tea-table, the bugbear of the bed-chamber, and the standing jest of the tavern?--I will return this instant, Fairfax, and put her boasted strength and courage to the proof--Madness!--I forget that nothing less than depriving her of sense can be effectual. She knows her strong hold: victory never yet was gained by man, singly, over woman, who was not willing to be vanquished.

I will not yield her up, Fairfax!--She never shall be Henley's!--Again and again she never shall!--I dared not meet him!--So she told me!--Ha!--Dare not?--I will still devise a means--I will have my revenge!--This vaunted Henley then shall know how much I dare!--I will conquer!--Should I be obliged to come like Jove to Semele, in flames, and should we both be reduced to ashes in the conflict, I will enjoy her!--Let one urn hold our dust; and when the fire has purified it of its angry and opposing particles, perhaps it may mingle in peace.

C. CLIFTON

LETTER CXX

_c.o.ke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_

_London, Dover Street_

It shall not be!--She shall not escape me thus!--I will not endure this insufferable, this contemptible recantation of my wrongs! Fear is beneath me, and what have I to hope? I have made misery certain! I have paid the price of destruction, and will hug it to my heart! I know how often I have prevaricated, and have loitered with revenge; but I have not lost the flame: it burns still, and never shall expire!

The night at Brompton, though a night of storms and evil augury, was heaven to the one I have just pa.s.sed. Sleep and rest have forsaken me.

'Tis long since I closed my eyes; I know not indeed when; but last night I did not attempt it. I traversed my room, opened my windows, shut them again, listened to the discontented monotony of the watchman without hearing him, thought over my never-forgotten injuries, my vengeance, and all the desolation that is to follow, and having ended began again!

There were shrieks and cries of murder in the street, about midnight; and this was the only music by which I remember to have been roused.

But it was momentary. My reveries returned, and scenes of horror rose, more swarming, dun, and ghastly!

My waking dreams are eternal--Well, so I would have them!

They prolong revenge!--I would have him by the throat for ages!--Him!--Henley!--Would--grapple with him; would stab and be stabbed; not in the fictions of a torturing fancy, but arm to arm, steel to steel, poison to poison! Ay, did I not know he would refuse my fair challenge, hero though he be and cased in innocence, I would instantly fly to let him loose upon me, that I might turn and tear him!

Why that were delectable!--And can it not be?... Can no sufferings move, no wrongs provoke, no taunts stir him to resentment? Is he G.o.d, or is he man? To me he is demon, legion, and has possessed me wholly!

Liar that I am! How came I to forget the beauteous sorceress with whom I found him leagued? I have heard them called angels of light; but I have known them only fiends! They goad me with their virtues, mock at my phrensy, defy my rage; and though surrounded by rape, destruction, and despair, sleep and smile, while I wake and howl!

Injury and insult are busy with me! This sister of mine is in town at Sir Arthur's. As she has made the journey I may expect a visit from her soon: but she shall find no admission here. I want no more tormentors!

As I foreboded, she has just been, and has behaved in character. She would take no denial from the valet; he was but an infant to the Amazon; she would herself see if I were at home, and in she came. The fellow does not want cunning, and he ran up stairs before her, and called out aloud, purposely for me to hear--'You may see, madam, if you please; the door is locked, and my master has taken the key with him.'

He knew I was determined not to see her, and while he designedly made all the clatter he could, and placed himself before the entrance, I took the means he had devised. She came, turned him aside, examined the door, pushed violently against it, and I believe would willingly have broken it open; but finding her good intentions, I set my shoulder to the panel, taking care not to impede the light through the keyhole, which my valet tells me was inspected by her. She ruminated a few seconds and then went away; incredulous and high in indignation.

Well!--I sought for warfare, and it has found me. My former encounters it seems were but the skirmishes of a partisan: this is a deadly and decisive battle!

It is now five o'clock, and I have had a stirring morning. So much the better; action is relief. A message came to me from Lord Fitz-Allen, desiring to speak with me. I had an inclination not to have gone; but reflecting further I determined to obey his summons.

However, when I sent up my name, I desired to know if my sister were there; and was answered in the negative. I then made my bow to his lordship, taking care to inform him that my sister behaved with great impropriety, and that I was resolved not to see her, lest I too should forget that respect due to my family and myself which she had violated.

The peer began with circ.u.mlocutory hints concerning the elopement--'An unaccountable affair!--No tidings had yet arrived!--Surmises and rumours of a very strange and dishonourable nature were whispered!--Mischief, rape, nay even murder were dreaded!'

I refused to interpret any of these insinuations as applicable to myself. At last his lordship, after many efforts, said he had a favour to beg of me, which he hoped I should not think unreasonable. I desired him to inform me what this favour was; and put some firmness in my manner, that his lordship might see I was not in a temper to suffer an insult.

He answered, for his own part, he had no doubts: he knew my family, and had always affirmed I could not act unworthy of the gentleman. But, for the peace of mind of Sir Arthur and the other relations of the young lady, he would esteem it an obligation done to him, if I would declare, upon my honour, that I knew nothing of her elopement; of the place she has been conveyed to, or where she is at present.

I then retorted upon his lordship, that the preface to this request entirely precluded compliance; that those who whispered and spread surmises, and rumours, must be answerable for the consequences of their own officiousness; and that with respect to myself, I should certainly, under such circ.u.mstances, refuse to answer to interrogatories.

My tone was not very conciliatory, and his lordship knew not whether to be angry or pleased. But while he was pondering I thought proper to make my exit; and leave him to settle the contest between his pride and his puerility as well as he was able.

At my return I found a letter from my sister, which I will neither answer nor open. I have my fill of fury, and want no more!