The Atlantic Monthly Part 4

"Lina here paused a moment, thoughtfully.

"'But, Lina,' I said, 'if the young man was well educated, rich, and seemed only to have the one fault of loving you so well, why would you not marry him? _Ma chere_,' I said, 'you throw away your good fate. You see what a service it would be to your family. (I speak as your friend, you comprehend.) You save your father; you make the young man happy; all could be arranged so charmingly! I should like to see you married, _ma chere_; and then, your duty as a daughter!'

"'Oh, yes, yes! she cried; 'I would do, oh, anything almost, to shield my poor father and mother! Perhaps once, _once_, I might; but it is too late now. I cannot marry Frank. Oh, Madame, it is as impossible as if I were dead!'

"'This is a strange story, Lina,' I said. 'What do you mean? Tell me, my child, or I shall think you crazy.'

"She laid her head on her hands, which were clasped on the top of the escritoire, and half whispered,--

"'I am engaged,--I am married to some one else.'

"I sprang from my seat, and caught her hands.

"'You married, Lina? you? the quiet girl who has been teaching the children so well all these months?'

"'Yes, Madame,' she said, with all her usual composure, 'and to a man I love with my whole soul, with my whole life. The future may seem dim, but I have little fear when I remember I am Arthur's wife, and that his love will be strong to help me whenever I relieve him of the promise I have obliged him to make not to reveal our marriage. Frank will be three-and-twenty in one year and a half from now; till then, he cannot, without great difficulty, harm my father, and by that time I trust his fancy for me will have pa.s.sed away, and he will be willing to treat with my father about his property without personal feeling to aggravate his sense of the wrong that has been done him. He is in the East now with Colonel Lucas, his other guardian, who has not been without his suspicions of Frank's liking for me, and is not at all unwilling, I think, to keep him out of the way for a while.'

"'Does no one know of this, Lina?' I asked, 'no one suspect it?'

"'Only two persons,' she replied,--'indeed, I may as well tell you at once, Madame,--beside Mrs. Baxter and her husband, at whose house the ceremony took place. They were then staying in the neighborhood of H----, a few miles from my aunt's house. It was at Mrs. Baxter's I first met Arthur: he was a distant connection of hers. He and his Cousin Marmaduke had come up for the shooting and fishing for a few weeks in the autumn. My aunt was a genial, bright old lady, fond of the society of young people, spite of her ill health, and invited the young men frequently to her house. In that way I saw a great deal of them both.'

"'Who was the gentleman, Lina? Had you seen him before this visit? But,'

seeing she hesitated, 'if you do not wish to disclose more, say so frankly; what you have already told me I will guard as a secret,--you need not fear.'

"'Oh, Madame,' interrupted Lina, suddenly throwing herself on the floor at my feet, 'it's not that,--do not say that, dear Madame! It is a great comfort to me to tell you all this; sometimes I feel so lonely when by any chance I do not get a letter from him the day I expect one.'

"Her voice faltered, and she leaned forward, burying her face in her hands; I saw her breast shaken with weeping.

"'Tell me all, _ma pauvre pet.i.te_!' I said; 'tell me everything.'

"Then seeing she still continued weeping, I said, playfully,--

"'So you get letters from him, do you? I have never known this. You know, _ma cherie_, that that is against the rules of my _pension_; but when people are married,--_c'est une autre chose_! But how is it that I have never found this out? Ah, because you have charge of all the letters to and from the post!'

"'Yes, Madame,' she said, looking up with a smile. 'I have sometimes felt so unhappy, because I seemed to be doing a _dishonest_ thing; but it would have been so hard to go without them, and I knew how kind and good you were. If you would like to see one of his letters,' she continued, half shyly, but with dignified gravity, 'I have one here'; and she drew a large letter from her pocket and handed it to me.

"Here it is," said Madame, taking the first from the bundle in her hand.

The handwriting was firm and regular; the letter was long, but, though the whole breathed but one feeling of the deepest and tenderest affection, it was hardly what would be called a "love-letter." There were criticisms of new works, and further references to books of a kind that showed the writer to be a man of scholarly tastes. After we had looked at this one, Madame handed us others from the packet, all marked by the same characteristics as the first. Here and there were little pictures of the writer's every-day life. He told of his being out on the moors at sunrise shooting with his Cousin Marmaduke, or riding round the estate giving orders about the transplanting of certain trees, "which are set as you have suggested, and are growing as fast as they can till you come to walk under their shade," or in the library at evening, when the place beside him seems so void where she should be. Then there were other letters, speaking of ---- ----, the poet, who was coming down to spend a few weeks with him, and write verses under his elms at Aylesford Grange; but in one and all Lina was the central idea round which all other interests merely turned, and the source from which all else drew its charm.

"As soon," said Madame, continuing her narration, "as I had finished reading the letter, I entreated Lina to go on with her curious history.

"'I met Arthur,' she said, 'first at Mrs. Baxter's, as I said before. He is the n.o.blest man I have ever known,--so good, so clever, so pure in heart! His Cousin Marmaduke, who was there at the same time, paid me great attention, but I never liked him; there was always something repulsive to me in his black eyes; I never trusted him; and beside Arthur,--oh, it seemed like the contrast between night and day! I don't know why it was, Madame, but I never felt that he loved Arthur really, though Arthur had done a great deal for him, got him his commission in the army, and paid off some of his debts; but he never seemed as if he quite forgave Arthur for standing in the way of his being the lord of the manor himself and possessor of Aylesford. There are some mean-spirited people who are proud too. They can receive favors, while they resent the obligation. He was of that kind, I think, and hated Arthur for his very generosity.

"'One evening, as I was walking up the shrubbery, I met Marmaduke. He had ridden over with Arthur, as they often did, to spend the evening. He had caught sight of me, he said, as they came up the avenue, and, under pretext of something being wrong with his horse's bridle, had stopped, and let Arthur go on to the house alone. He had long waited for this opportunity of speaking to me alone, he said, as I must have known.

Then, amid the basest of vague insinuations against Arthur, he dared to proffer me his odious love. Oh, Madame, I was angry! A woman cannot bear feigned love,--it stings like hatred; still less can she bear to hear one she loves spoken of as I had heard him speak of Arthur. I hardly know what I said, but it must have expressed my feeling; for he tried to taunt me in return with being in love with Arthur and _Aylesford_. I only smiled, and walked on. Then he sprang after me, and vowed I should not leave him so,--that he loved me madly, spite of my scorn, spite of my foolish words. He knew well I did not love Arthur, that I was ambitious only. So was he,--and so determined in his purpose, that he was sure to succeed in it, spite of everything. "For there are few things," he added, "that can stand against my settled will. Beware, then, how you cross it, sweet Lina!" I shook my cloak loose from his hand, for his words sent a thrill of horror through me, and rushed on, speechless with indignation, to the house. Two days after this I became engaged to Arthur. How happy we were!' said Lina, a dreamy expression pa.s.sing over her face at the retrospect.

"'I told Arthur everything about my home; but I did not tell him of my conversation with Marmaduke in the shrubbery, because I could not bear to give him the pain which a discovery of his cousin's baseness would have caused him. Marmaduke, I perceived, knew that I had not betrayed him; for one night, as I was sitting at the piano, he thanked me hastily, as he turned over the leaf of my music-book, for a generous proof of confidence. I took no notice of these words, but was conscious of a flush of indignation at the word _confidence_.

"'Arthur and I were always together; we read together, and talked over our past and future lives. Nothing now troubled me. He took all the burden and anxiety of my life to himself, and with his love added a sense of peace and security most exquisite to me.

"'I told him all the miserable story of Frank, and he listened gravely; but though it certainly troubled him, it never seemed to daunt him for an instant. So gentle as he is, nothing ever could shake him. I was so happy then, that I could not feel angry even with Marmaduke; and as he seemed to be willing to forget the past, we became somewhat more friendly towards each other. But if I ever happened to be alone with him, even for a moment, the recollection of our talk in the shrubbery would come to my mind, and the old feeling of anger would spring up again, the effort to suppress which was so painful that I always avoided being with him, unless Arthur were by also.

"'One day there came a letter from my father,--and what its character was you may suppose, when I tell you that it made me utterly forget my present happiness. At the end of the letter he commanded me to return home immediately. It came one evening: I read and re-read its cruel words till I could bear no more. I saw Arthur standing in the twilight below my window, and went down and laid the letter silently in his hands. When he had finished reading it, he came slowly towards me. I shall never forget his look as he took my hands in his and drew me to him, looking into my face so earnestly. Then he said, in a low, grave voice, "Lina, do you love me? Then we must be married at once,--do not be afraid,--perhaps to-night. I fear your father may follow that letter very soon. You have suffered too much already. You have no one but me to look to. Heaven knows I do not think alone of my own happiness."'

"Lina paused a moment. 'I yielded,' she said. 'I could have followed him blindly then anywhere! So that evening, in the drawing-room, with Mr.

and Mrs. Baxter and Marmaduke as witnesses, we were married by a Scotch clergyman (there was no clergyman of our own Church within twenty miles). The ceremony was very simple. As the last words were being p.r.o.nounced, some one entered the room hastily, and there was whispering and confusion for a moment or two, and when I rose from my knees the first words that greeted me were the intelligence that my aunt was dangerously ill, and had sent a special messenger for me. Late as it was, I prepared instantly to accompany the man back to H----. I was stung with self-reproaches at the thought of my aunt lying, as I fancied, dying without me near her, and peremptorily refused to allow Arthur to accompany me on my long drive.

"'That was the last time I saw him. The next day he was called away on important business, which admitted of no delay. I remained with my poor aunt till her death, which took place at the end of that week, three days after my marriage. Then my parents came for me. My father's manner was unusually kind; my poor mother's expressions of love went to my heart. Frank was not at home, they said, but had gone up to London to prepare for his journey to the East. They had determined to reside for a while in France, and they promised that he should not be informed of my being with them, if I would consent to accompany them. I yielded to their solicitations, parted with my true friend Mrs. Baxter, and crossed the Channel with them. At the end of three weeks I discovered that my father had broken his word and informed Frank by letter of my being with them. Then I fled to you, having heard of the position vacant in your _pension_. I have tried to do my duty here, and to merit in some degree your kindness. With you I am happier than I could be with any one but Arthur. Arthur has learned to love you too: will you read this letter speaking of you?' drawing a letter from her pocket.

"This is it," said Madame, taking one from the pile, and pointing out the pa.s.sage.

"I am weary of my life, sometimes, without you,--here, where you ought to be,--_your home_, Lina! I wander through the rooms that I have prepared with such delight for you, and think of the time when you will be here,--mistress of all!... When will you come, my wife? I think and dream in this way till I am haunted by the ghost of the future. I get morbid, and fancy all kinds of dangers that may happen to my darling, so far away from me; and then I am ready to go at once to you and break down all barriers and bear you away.... I thank Heaven you have so good a friend in '_Madame_.' I long for the time to come when I may greet her as one of my best friends for your sake. In the mean time, I have selected an Indian cabinet, the grotesque delicate work of which would please your quaint fancy, which I trust she will accept, if you will join me in the gift. I shall have an opportunity of sending it in a few weeks.... Mrs. Eldridge, my dear old housekeeper, has just been in. She wishes to know whether the new curtains of the little library are to be crimson or gray. She little knows what confusion she causes me! She knows not that I am no longer master here! I tell her I will deliberate on the point, and she retires mystified by my unusual indecision. So write quickly and make known your desires, if you wish to save me from an imputation of becoming, as the good old-lady says, 'a little set and bachelor-like in my ways.' Marmaduke and ---- come down next week to shoot.... You say, wait till spring, when things will be more propitious for disclosing our marriage. I have also another scheme which will be ripened by spring. I shall disclose our marriage, and propose to your father to make him independent of his ward. No one, certainly, has a better right to do this than his son-in-law; and then----But I hardly dare to think of the happiness that will be mine when nothing but death can part us any more!"

"One evening about this time," continued Madame, "about a week after Lina had shown me this letter, I came down into the _cabinet de musique_ on my way to the garden to take my usual evening walk on the terrace, and saw Lina standing by the piano with her bonnet on and her shawl laid beside her. In her hand she held letters, one of which she had that moment unsealed. She had, I knew, just returned from the post-office.

"'I have a letter here from Mrs. Baxter, Madame,' she said. 'She writes to me in great distress; the two children, Minnie and Louisa, whom she was so anxious to send here, are both ill with scarlet-fever. But here is your letter; she will no doubt tell you everything herself.'

"I took the letter and seated myself, and was soon absorbed in the poor mother's hurried and almost incoherent relation, when suddenly I was startled by a gesture or sound from Lina that made me look up hastily.

She stood with the letter she had been reading crushed in her hand, her face wearing an expression of agony. For a moment she swayed to and fro with her hand outstretched to catch a chair for support, but before I could reach her she had fallen heavily to the floor. I called Justine, and we raised her to a chair. I stood by her supporting her head on my breast, while Justine ran for camphor and _eau-de-vie_. It was some time before she recovered her consciousness; she then slowly opened her eyes and fixed them wonderingly on me, but with no look of recognition in them. A long shiver pa.s.sed over her, and she sighed heavily once or twice as she looked vacantly at the letter on the floor. I was terrified, and seized the letter, to gain, if possible, some explanation of the miserable state of the poor girl.

"I found that the envelope contained three letters: one from Marmaduke Kirkdale; one from the housekeeper, Mrs. Eldridge; and this sc.r.a.p from Arthur.

"LETTER OF MARMADUKE.

"'MY DEAR MADAM,--I have heavy tidings to send you. While out shooting yesterday morning in the Low Copse, Mr. ----, Arthur, and myself became separated: Mr. ----, who had been my companion, keeping on an open path; I going down towards the pool to beat up a thicket and start the game.

Arthur I supposed was with the gamekeeper, a little distance in advance of us. Would that it had been so! As I came up to join the others I heard the report of a gun, and hastening towards the spot whence the sound seemed to come, I found my poor cousin lying upon the ground, and at first supposed, that, in leaping the fence, he had received a sudden blow from a branch, which had stunned him; but on kneeling down to raise him, I perceived he was bleeding profusely from a wound in the throat, and was perfectly unconscious. Mr. ---- came up almost at the moment, and while the gamekeeper and I bore Arthur to a farm-house hard by, he went off to call the nearest doctor. Everything has been done that skill and care could devise. The physician from B---- is here, besides Mr.

Gordon, the village-surgeon. They p.r.o.nounce the wound very serious, but still hold out hopes that with great care he may yet recover. There is no doubt that in leaping the hedge, and holding his gun carelessly, my cousin had inflicted this terrible injury on himself. He is, however, too weak to make it safe to ask him any explanation of the accident. The doctors insist on perfect quiet and rest, and say, that, owing to the unremitting care we have been able to give him, he has done much better than they could have hoped for. If fever can be prevented, all may yet go well; for myself, I believe strongly in Arthur's robust const.i.tution.

"'_Friday night._--Arthur was doing very well till about two o'clock this morning. The housekeeper and I were with him. Mr. ---- had gone to take some rest. Suddenly Arthur raised himself, and asked for paper and pencil. I remonstrated with him, fearing the effects of exertion. When, however, I found Mr. ----(who had been called in by Mrs. Eldridge) declared his judgment in favor of compliance, I yielded, and, supported by the housekeeper, my cousin wrote a few almost illegible words. He had scarcely signed his name when he fell back,--the exertion, as I had feared, had been too much for him. After this he sank rapidly. He died at six o'clock this morning.

"'I hold my cousin's place now by his death. I am ready to do so fully.

"'I am yours as YOU WILL,

"'MAR'KE C. KIRKDALE.'

"LETTER OF THE HOUSEKEEPER.

"'RESPECTED MADAM--I do not know that I have any right presuming to meddle with affairs that don't belong to my walk in life, far be it from me to do so, especially to one that whatever they may say seems always like my mistress to me--owing to the last words my poor dear Mr. Arthur ever spoke was, She is my wife, my own wife, let no one gainsay it, which at the time I did not take in fairly, being almost broken down with sorrow, for I had nursed him as a baby, Madam, and loved him humbly as my own son, no lady could have loved him better, which having lost him and all this trouble (my heart seeming fairly broke) makes me write, respected Madam, worse than usual, never having been a scholar, he always wrote them for me, G.o.d bless him. You won't think me presuming, Madam, when I say these things never having had the honour of seeing you, but you are the only person who can feel for me under these circ.u.mstances of trial more than any others. For to see them going through the house looking into precious drawers and burning papers in the library fire and turning on a person like a Tiger, though he may be a gentleman (though how of that family that always was remarkable gentle spoken I cannot tell.) There never were two cousins differenter. I never can regard him as my master, never. I would sooner leave the old place and beg my bread than feel _him_ master after my blessed Mr. Arthur, not that I'd speak evil of the family. But G.o.d Almighty reads the hearts of men, and I only hope some may come out clear in appearing at the Judgment, and mayn't disgrace the Family then--for to say that my Mr.

Arthur never made a will when twice he's spoke to me upon the subject, always trusting me, Madam, telling me where he kept it in the library, and though it's not to be found the house through, still I know it must be somewhere, for I'd trust his word against a thousand. I shall ask Mr.

---- to forward this present not knowing your address, he is a kind gentleman and a true friend. I send you the little sc.r.a.p of paper with the last words he ever wrote. _Some_ may say it's no good and unreadable, but I took care that them that didn't value it didn't get it, though they did search everywhere, and looked so black when it couldn't be found being in my pocket at the time. I present my services, honoured Madam, and my dutiful affection for the sake of him that's gone.

"'ELIZABETH ELDRIDGE.'