Infelice Part 90

Opening the door, both paused at the threshold, and neither could ever forget the picture she represented.

In a snowy _peignoir_, she sat on the side of the couch, with her long waving hair falling in disorder to the marble floor, and seemed indeed like j.a.phet's "Amarant":

"She in her locks is like the travelling sun, Setting, all clad in coifing clouds of gold."

The wan Phidian face was turned toward them, and was breathless in its anxious eagerly questioning expression. Her brown eyes widened, searching theirs; and reading all, in her daughter's tearful pitying gaze, what a wild look crossed her face!

Regina pushed her uncle back, closed the door and sprang to the couch, holding out the letters.

Sitting as still as stone, Mrs. Laurance did not appear to notice them.

"Darling mother, G.o.d knows what is best for us all."

Slowly the strained eyes turned to the appealing face of her kneeling child, and something there broke up the frozen deeps of her heart.

"Are you sure? Is there no hope?"

"No hope; except to meet him in heaven."

Throwing her hands above her head, the wretched woman wrung them despairingly, and the pain of all the bitter past wailed in her pa.s.sionate cry:

"Lost for ever! And I would not forgive him! My husband! My own husband! When he begged for pardon I spurned, and derided, and taunted him! Oh! I meant sometime to forgive him; after I had accomplished all I planned. After he was beggared, and humiliated in the eyes of the world, and that woman occupied the position where they all sought to keep me, a mother and yet no lawful wife, after I had enjoyed my triumph a little while, I fully intended to listen to my heart long enough to tell him that I forgave him because he was your father! And now, where is my revenge? Where is my triumph? G.o.d has turned His back upon me; has struck from my hands all that I have toiled for fifteen years to accomplish. They all triumph over me now, in their quiet graves, resting in peace; and I live, only to regret!

To regret!"

Her eyes were dry, and shone like jewels, and when her arms fell, her clenched hands rested unintentionally on her daughter's head.

"Mother, he knows now that you forgive him. Remember that for him all grief is ended; and try to be comforted."

"And for me? What remains for me?"

Her voice was so deep, so sepulchral, so despairing, that Regina clung closer to her.

"Your child, who loves you so devotedly; and the hope of that blessed rest in heaven, where marriages are unknown, where at last we shall all dwell together in peace."

For some time Mrs. Laurance remained motionless; then her lips moved inaudibly. At length she said:

"Yes, my child, our child is all that is left. When he asked to kiss me once more, I denied him so harshly, so bitterly! When he tried to draw me for the last time to his bosom, I hurled away his arms, would not let him touch me. Now I shall never see him again. My husband!

The one only love of my miserable and accursed life! Oh, my beloved!

do you know at last, that the Minnie of your youth, the bride of your boyhood has never, never ceased to love her faithless, erring husband?"

Her voice grew tremulous, husky, and suddenly bending back her daughter's head, she looked long at the grieved countenance.

"His last words were: 'Minnie love, let our baby's eyes and lips plead pardon for her father's unintentional sins.' They do; they always shall. Cuthbert's own wonderful eyes shining in his daughter's. My husband's own proud beautiful lips that kiss me so fondly every time I press his child's mouth! At last I can thank G.o.d that our baby is indeed her father's image; and because in death Cuthbert is my own again, I can cherish the memory, and pray for the soul of my husband! Kiss me, kiss me--oh, my darling!"

She kissed the girl's eyes and lips, held her off, gazing into her face through gathering mist, then drew her again to her bosom, and the long h.o.a.rded bitterness and agony found vent in a storm of sobs and tears.

"I must sit joyless in my place; bereft As trees that suddenly have dropped their leaves, And dark as nights that have no moon."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

"Uncle Orme, are you awake?"

"My dear girl, what is the matter? Is Minnie ill?"

"No, sir; but this is mother's birthday, and, if you please, I want you. There are a few late peaches hanging too high for my arms, and such grape-cl.u.s.ters! just beyond my finger tips. Will you be so kind as to gather them for me? I intended to ask you yesterday afternoon, but mother kept me on the terrace until it was too late. I have not heard you moving about? Do get up; the morning air is so delicious, and the lake lies like a huge rose with crimped petals."

"You are a tormentingly early lark, chanting your hymns to sunrise, when you should be sound asleep. You waked me in the midst of a lovelier rose-coloured dream than your tiresome, stupid lake, and I shall not excuse you for disturbing me. Where is that worthless, black-eyed chattering monkey Giulio? Am I a boy to climb peach trees this time of the day, for your amus.e.m.e.nt? Oh, the irreverence of American youth!"

"Giulio has gone on a different errand, and I never should insult your venerable years by asking you to climb trees, even in honour of mother's birthday breakfast. You can easily reach all I want, and then you may come back and finish your dream, and I will keep breakfast waiting until you declare yourself ready. Here is the basket, I am going out to the garden."

Regina ran down into the flower-plot at the rear of the house, and after a little while she saw her uncle unenc.u.mbered by his coat, bearing the basket on his arm and ascending one of the winding walks that terraced the hill.

To her lifelong custom of early rising she still adhered, and in the dewy hours spent alone in watching the sun rise over Como she indulged precious recollections that found audience and favour at no other season.

It was her habit to place each morning a fresh bouquet upon her mother's plate, and also to arrange the flower stand, that since their residence at the villa had never failed to grace the centre of the breakfast-table.

It was a parsonage custom, and had always been a.s.sociated in her mind with the pastor's solemn benediction at each meal.

To-day, while filling her basket with blossoms, some stray waft of perfume, or perhaps the rich scarlet lips of a geranium glowing against the grey stone of the wall, prattled of Fifth Avenue, and recalled a gay _boutonniere_ she once saw Mrs. Carew fasten in Mr.

Palma's coat.

Like a serpent this thought trailed over all, and the beauty of the morning suddenly vanished. Was that grey-eyed Cleopatra with burnished hair, low smooth brow, and lips like Lamia's, resting in her guardian's arms--his wife?

Three months had elapsed since the day on which Mr. Chesley received his last letter, containing tidings that bowed and broke the haughty spirit of Mrs. Laurance; and if Mr. Palma had written again, Regina had not been informed of the fact.

Was he married, and in his happiness as a husband had he for a time forgotten the existence of the friends in Europe?

A shadowy hopelessness settled in the girl's eyes when she reflected that this was probably the correct explanation of his long silence, and a deep yearning to see him once more rose in her sad heart. She knew that it was better so, with the Atlantic between them; and yet it seemed hard, bitter, to think of living out the coming years, and never looking upon him again.

A heavy sigh crossed her lips that were beginning to wear the patient lines of resignation, and turning from the red geranium which had aroused the memory coiled in her heart she stepped upon the terrace, leaned over the marble bal.u.s.trade, and looked out.

The sun was up, and in the verdant setting of its sh.o.r.e the lake seemed a huge sapphire, girdled with emerald.

In the distance a fishing boat glided slowly, its taut sails gleaming as the sunlight smote them, like the snowy pinions of some vast bird brooding over the quiet water; and high in the air, just beneath a strip of orange cloud as filmy as lace, a couple of happy pigeons circled round and round, each time nearing the sun, that was rapidly paving the lake with quivering gold.

Solemn and serene the distant Alps lifted their glittering domes, which cut sharply like crystal against the sky that was as deeply, darkly blue as lapis-lazuli; and behind the white villas dotting the sh.o.r.e, vineyards bowed in amber and purple fruitage, plentiful as Eshcol, luscious as Schiraz.

The cool air was burdened with mysterious hints of acacias and roses, which the dew had stolen from drowsy gardens, and over the gently rippling waters floated the holy sound of the sweet-tongued bell, from

..."Where yonder church Stands up to heaven, as if to intercede For sinful hamlets scattered at its feet."

Into the house Regina pa.s.sed slowly, a trifle paler from her matin reverie; and when she entered the pretty breakfast-room, Mr. Chesley had just deposited his fruity burden upon the floor.

"Thank you, dear Uncle Orme. Mother will enjoy her peaches when she knows you gathered them with the dew still upon their down. Go, finish your dream; Heaven grant it be sweet! No one shall even pa.s.s your door for the next hour, unless shod with velvet, or with silence. This is the first of mother's birthdays I have had an opportunity to celebrate, and I wish to surprise her pleasantly. Go back to sleep."