Lily Pearl and The Mistress of Rosedale Part 27

"Do not mention those eyes! They were her father's, and she is like him!

Yet he was good! I do not think I should be where I am to-day if he had lived! I have been tumbling for years--yes, years! And what a depth I have fallen!" The speaker endeavored to smile, but the attempt died upon her pallid lips. "Let us hasten back to the city," she continued, seeing her companion showed no desire to speak: "I must have time to think!"

They walked on a short distance without another word, and then her companion said, abruptly: "You have not told me why, in your opinion, she is here? Was she always remarkable for tenderness and benevolence?

It seems to me that the mother-power was deficient in regard to the little matter of early teaching in the science of patriotism!"

"Your tones are annoying, but I will satisfy your plausible curiosity in a measure! It was not 'tenderness or benevolence' that has drawn her thither, but, in my opinion, an old love affair gotten up while in Philadelphia at school when yet a child. She was supposed to be an heiress, of course, and was wheedled into accepting the proffers of undying adoration from a scheming fortune-hunter! It did not take me long to end the affair after I learned of it, I can tell you; but it spoiled her! It was then that she laid the corner stone of the sepulcher which she has been rearing over me, and now, I suppose, will deliberately pull down about my ears!"

"The sea does look a little squally, I confess," replied her companion sarcastically.

"I own it does!"

"Well, as I am aboard of your ship it may be well for me to be looking out for breakers ahead. And yet I cannot understand how that 'love affair' of which you have told me could affect her now!"

"Well, I do! Without doubt she hopes to find him; but it does not matter what are her ambitions she is here much against my wishes and happiness!"

Happiness! Ah, where can the transgressor find peace or rest? "Who is wise shall understand these things; prudent and he shall know them, for the ways of the Lord are right and the just shall walk in them, but the transgressors shall fall therein."

Anna might have joined in the confusion and agitation of her friend had she caught a look as she desired from the keen, black eyes which had so troubled her in former days. But, strange as it may seem, those penetrating orbs failed to recognize in her whom they tried to avoid the sweet singer of "Cathesdra." The "n.o.body" whom her cousin persisted in raising out of her sphere had dropped from her mind. Neither had Anna ever met the daughter of Mrs. Belmont during her stay in the home of the St. Clair's, and could not, therefore, suspect that the meek, gentle nurse who had so won her heart was the one of whom she had so often heard. She had been told by Ellen of her brother's attachment and of their final separation, and he, only two mornings since, had substantiated her statement with the a.s.surance that his imaginary love had been proved to himself to be only a fostered brotherly affection for his pretty cousin. They looked into each other's faces and smiled at the parting, little thinking how much of mystery was concealed from view.

"If one could only be seen in the light that falls upon them from the eternal brightness what a transfiguration it would work! There are estrangements and alienations," says some one, "that arise from ignorance of one another that divide families into almost as distinct and separate lives as rooms in the house they occupy."

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE "PHANTOM" REMOVED.

"Hands to work and hearts to G.o.d," once said Emerson, while Tennyson adds: "In this windy world what's up is faith, what's down is heresy!"

Anna was nervous and restless as she thought over these things, and all of the next night lay tossing upon her bed, vainly endeavoring to woo the gentle slumbers that would not come to her. It seemed so sad now that it was all over, and it _was_ strange that George St. Clair should have dismissed her so coldly! It was not her fault that she could not dispel this "phantom" as he called it; yet he _pitied_ her! Was this the panacea he strove so hard to apply to her wounded soul? True, she asked him for it, yet pride rebelled at its application! Pity! The long, weary hours were filled with exciting whispers, and ever and anon the chilling words, "I will trouble you no longer," fell like hard, cold pebbles into her sensitive soul. At last summoning all her fort.i.tude she congratulated herself that on the morrow Mrs. St. Clair and Ellen would arrive. Then she could return home, where silently and alone she would dig a grave in some lonely recess of her stricken heart and bury her two great sorrows side by side! To-morrow! The clock struck five and the sound of feet were heard below. The night had pa.s.sed! She arose from her bed and opened the window. One star yet faintly glimmered just above the eastern horizon, up which the first morning beams were slowly creeping. Calmly and peacefully it looked into the troubled upturned face so full of sorrow and flushed with weeping, until Anna thought that in its pensive gaze there was such pity as the angels might bestow upon their weary earth-born sisters. Then her thoughts wandered away to those who would be weary no more; whose foot-prints would never more be seen along the dusty highway of life, for they were resting now, their journeys over, their spirits freed from their crumbling prison-houses!

At rest! The pale tranquil light of the lonely star grew paler and more feeble as she continued to gaze upon it, for a new day was approaching, and in the glory of its brightness the tiny light was to be swallowed up. Fading, changing, everywhere! How sad a lesson is life! How rugged and th.o.r.n.y the way through it! "To look up is faith," repeated Anna again; "Thou wilt show me the path of life; in Thy presence is fullness of joy; at Thy right hand there are pleasures forevermore! Hush!" It was not her own voice to which she was listening, but the echoing of her poor pleading heart which had suddenly remembered that to look down where all the dreary shadows were cl.u.s.tered was "heresy." The day was before her heavily laden with duties. Why should she grope under the clouds where were doubts and unbeliefs? By and by it may be she too would rest! A step along the hall startled her. It was that of the black servant leaving his master's room. "How faithful he has been," she thought, "while I have only brought discomforts where I had so desired to bring relief." It was over now; her dream of hope, of love, of life!

All was over; yet her hand still clasped the "golden bowl," and the "silver cord" was not broken! There was sweet water still in the fountain, although at times it might seem bitter to the taste.

She was standing by the mirror arranging the braids of her dark hair as these reflections were pa.s.sing through her mind. "How changed I am," she continued, "not only in mind but in face! Perplexities and disappointments are making sad havoc with my good looks! I must away from this," and after preparing herself for a walk she hastened to the hospital. She filled the moments of the laggard morning full of untiring work by the side of the young nurse who flitted among the cots where anxious, loving eyes watched for her coming and grew dim as she disappeared from their sight. Still her thoughts were roving and regrets came to disturb her as she remembered that no more could she place the cup of cold water to fevered lips, or with her words soothe troubled minds. She was going home to bury her dead, while so many were to remain to be buried by stranger hands! The voice of the nurse recalled her.

"There was a big skirmish down the river last night and some of our officers were disabled and are to be brought here to-day, we are informed by telegram!" and she walked on where an upraised hand was beckoning.

"Who knows but my poor brother is one of the fallen?" Anna mused as she proceeded towards her temporary home.

It was nearly dinner-time and she must not let the whole day pa.s.s without visiting the lonely one under her own roof. True, he had not invited her to come again at the close of their last interview, but he had hinted a wish that she should read the morning papers to him on her return, Mrs. Howard had said. She had hoped to escape this, but she was calmer now. Herbert was gone; men might be falling on the battle field any day! It was the hand of war, not of individuals, that was slaying the mothers' and sisters' loved ones all over the land! Poor heart! The tidal wave was receding, but the waters underneath were black and unfathomable!

"He is better, I think," Mrs. Howard went on to say, "and in a few days, no doubt, will be able to sit up in an easy chair part of the time. He asked a while ago if you had returned from the hospital, and looked, as he always does, a little out of patience that you should devote so much of your time to others."

Anna was not listening as her hostess bustled about the table prattling in an unusual manner, as it was evident that she was probing with her feminine curiosity deeper than had been her wont, and it seemed the duty of her victim to push the intruding hand away.

"But you will go to him?" was the abrupt query at last.

"It is my intention," and Anna pa.s.sed into the hall. The door of the sick man's chamber was open, and before she had reached the upper landing she heard her name called.

"I want to see you Anna. Please bring the morning papers, will you?"

She could not resist the pleading of the voice, and, besides, she had expected to see him again; but how could she read to him.

"I was intending to brush away a little of the dust of morning labor before coming to you," she remarked with a smile as she entered and took a seat beside the bed.

"Do a better thing, Anna, and brush away the dust from my hopes and out of my life! Would not that be a more merciful act?"

"Can I do all that, George?" and she laid her hand soothingly upon his white forehead.

"You ought to be able to do so, since it was your hands scattered it."

There was a long silence.

"Is it your purpose to go home and leave me here with your b.l.o.o.d.y spectre to haunt and distract me? Do I deserve such punishment? Should loyalty to my native land be crowned with such terrible thorns? You have confessed, Anna, that a few months ago you loved me, is that most holy attribute so easily uprooted? If so, then I have been mistaken in woman's heart?" He was looking in her face, that was thinner and, it may be, paler than he had ever seen it, and his manly nature came to the rescue. "Forgive me, Anna, I will not be so cruel! There is somewhere a G.o.d who will make all right in His own good time, as Old Auntie would say; and last night as Toby lay snoring on the lounge yonder, I thought it all over. Yes, there is a G.o.d; and it may be He is at work in this great war problem, and when the final result is summed up, we shall be glad that the storm pa.s.sed this way, because of the happy issues. Who knows? But, dear girl, a.s.sure me of my guiltlessness in creating the blast, or the terrible lightning that is desolating so many hearts and homes! Will you?"

She raised her eyes to his face, and a smile broke over her own. "How low are the mighty fallen!" and a low, rippling laugh mingled itself with her words. "Did you ever imagine that I thought you such a great man, so strong and powerful?"

"My own Anna!" he exclaimed, taking her hand pa.s.sionately in his. "You are not going to leave me comfortless, but will wipe away the mold from hopes, and thus brighten up the future by letting the sunshine in upon them again." He drew the beaming face down to his own and their lips sealed the contract of mutual love and forgiveness.

"I did not mean to grieve you," she said at last, "but the blow was a heavy one, and all things seemed to combine their powers to keep my 'phantom' in active existence, but they are gone now."

"Tell me that no more shall this murderous spectre stand between us.

This terrible war may have crippled me for life; my home and fortune be taken from me through its ravages; but if you love and trust me, I shall, notwithstanding all, be the happiest of men."

"Is the wound then, so very bad."

"The surgeon has more than hinted that my days of soldiering are over, but was that all you heard of my long speech, made especially for your ear?" he laughed. "You would not care to unite your destinies with a cripple, and how would it be if the fortune was also gone? O, Anna!"

"Do not, George. I had not thought of all that, my mind is not capable of taking such fanciful leaps; I was only thinking how sad all this would be for one like you. But I could not be sorry if a.s.sured that you would fight no more."

"Even though a broken back was my preventive?"

"The glimpses that come to us at this moment from the overshadowed future are too bright to be flecked with such dark presentiments; I cannot believe them. But there is Mrs. Howard's steps, on the stairs.

How kind she has been, and what a miserable nurse I have proven myself."

"Oh pshaw! I have improved more during the last half hour, under your fostering care, than I should have done in three weeks of her nursing.

But you must not go yet or there will be great danger of a serious relapse! I will send the good soul to Jericho as soon as I have swallowed her potion, for I have much I want to say while the opportunity is ours."

"I think it will be necessary for you to begin again on these fever drops, as I see your cheeks are quite red this afternoon," carelessly remarked the good lady, as she placed the spoon to his lips. There was a roguish twinkle in her eye, however, which Anna did not fail to perceive.

"Hang the fever drops!" exclaimed the patient; "I am ever so much better, and am pondering the propriety of going home with Miss Pierson to-morrow."

The kind lady shook with suppressed mirth as she went from the room, for her keen eyes had looked deeper than ever before.

In the evening Ellen and her father arrived. It had been a weary morning to Anna, for she had waited their coming with an anxious heart, but the sky was clear now and she returned their greetings with fervor, wearing her great grief, it was true, but the joys of the previous hours had so covered it that the dear ones were astonished to find her bright beneath the shadow of sorrow.

"My poor son," exclaimed Mr. St. Clair, as the first greetings were over. "Yes, Anna; show us the way to him." She obeyed, and as they were ascending the stairs, the father remarked, "I have no doubt we shall receive a favorable report of your nursing, for I am convinced by the pallor of your cheeks that there have been sad hours of watching and anxiety."