Vashti Part 59

"A wife, yet bereft of your husband's protection! A wife, wandering among strangers, and a deserter from the home you vowed to cheer! Your own admission cries out in judgment against you."

He walked to the table and picked up his gloves, and Mrs. Gerome rose and advanced a few steps.

"Dr. Grey, you will come now and then to see me?"

"No; for the present I do not wish to see you."

"Ah! how brittle are men's promises! Did you not a.s.sure Elsie that you would never forsake her wretched child?"

"Our painful relations invalidate that promise,--cancel that pledge. I can not visit you as formerly; still, I shall at all times be glad to serve you; and you have only to acquaint me with your wishes to insure their execution."

"Remember how solitary, how desolate, I am."

"A wife should be neither, while her husband lives."

The cold severity of his tone wounded her inexpressibly, and she haughtily drew herself up.

"Dr. Grey will at least allow me an opportunity of explaining the circ.u.mstances that he seems to regard as so heinous?"

He looked at the proud but quivering mouth,--into the great, shadowy, gray eyes, and a heavy sigh escaped him.

"Perhaps it is better that I should know your history, for it will diminish my own unhappiness to feel a.s.sured that you are worthy of the estimate I placed upon you one hour ago. Shall I come to-morrow, or will you tell me now what you desire me to know?"

"I can not sleep until I have exonerated myself in your clear, truthful, holy eyes: I can not endure that you should think harshly of me, even for a day. This room is suffocating! I will meet you on the portico; and yonder, by the sea, I will show you my life."

She went to the escritoire, opened one of the drawers, and took out a package. Wrapping a cloak around her, she quitted the parlor, and found Dr. Grey leaning against one of the columns.

He did not offer her his arm as formerly, but slowly and silently they walked down towards the beach, where the surf was rolling heavily in with a steady roar, and tossing sheets of foam around the stone piers.

... "While far across the hill, A dark and brazen sunset ribbed with black, Glared, like the sullen eyeb.a.l.l.s of the plague."

CHAPTER XXVII.

"Doctor Grey, had you possessed a t.i.the of the ingenuity of Peiresc, you might long ago have interpreted the deep, dark incisions in my character, which, like the indentations on his celebrated amethyst, show where the _laminae_ of luckless events inscribed my history with mournful ciphers. Elsie's hints would have furnished any woman with a clew; but, since you have not availed yourself of their aid, I must lift the shroud that hides the corpse of my youth, my happiness, my faith in man, my hope in G.o.d. Ah! unto what shall I liken it? This ruined, wretched thing I call my life? To the _Tauk e Kerra_,--standing in a dreary waste, lifting its vast, keyless arch helplessly to heaven? Even such a crumbling arch, beautiful and grand in its glorious promise, is the incomplete, crownless life of Agla Gerome,--a lonely and melancholy monument of a gigantic failure. Two months before my birth, my father, Henderson Flewellyn, died, and when I was three hours old, my poor young mother followed him, leaving me to the care of her nurse, Elsie Maclean, and of an old uncle who was at that time residing in Copenhagen.

Having no relatives to dictate, Elsie named me Vashti, for my mother; but my great-uncle wrote that my baptism must be deferred until he could be present, and instructed her to call me Evelyn, after himself. But the stubborn Scotch will would not bend, and my name was written in the family Bible, Vashti Flewellyn. Before the expiration of three years, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l Evelyn died, bequeathing his fortune to me, as Evelyn Flewellyn, and consigning me to the guardianship of Mr. Lucian Wright, a widowed minister of New York. I was a feeble, sickly child, hovering continually upon the confines of death, and, as city air was deemed injurious to me, Elsie kept me at a farm-house on the Hudson, belonging to the estate that I was destined to inherit. Here I remained until my tenth year, when Mr.

Wright removed me to the vicinity of Albany, and placed me under the care of his maiden sister, who had a small cla.s.s of girls to educate. Elsie accompanied and watched over me, and here I spent four quiet, happy years; but the death of my teacher set me once more afloat, and I was carried to New York, and left at a large and fashionable boarding-school. I was fond of study, and boundlessly ambitious, and soon formed a warm, close friendship with a teacher who entered the inst.i.tution after I became one of its inmates. I had no one to love but Elsie, who never left me, and consequently, I gave to Edith Dexter, the young teacher, all the affection that I would have lavished on parents, brothers, and sisters, had they been granted to me. She was several years my senior, and the loveliest woman I ever saw. Reared in affluence, her family had become impoverished, and Edith was thrown upon her own resources for a support. My father's fortune was very large, and the property left me by Mr. Evelyn swelled my estate to very unusual proportions. Mr. Wright had carefully attended to the investment of the income, and I was regarded as the heiress of enormous wealth. Tenderly attached to Edith, whose beauty, intelligence, and varied accomplishments rendered her peculiarly attractive, I loaded her with presents, and determined that as soon as my educational career ended, I would establish myself in an elegant residence on Fifth Avenue, take Edith to live under my roof, treat her always as my sister, and share my ample fortune with her. Dr. Grey, you can form no adequate conception of the depth of the love I entertained for her. Day and night my busy brain devised schemes for lightening her labors, for promoting her happiness; and I spared no exertion to shield her from the petty vexations and humiliating annoyances incident to her situation.

Waking, I prayed for her; sleeping in her arms, I dreamed of the future we should spend together. At the close of the session, she went into Vermont to visit her invalid mother, and I to Mr. Wright's quiet home, to remain until the end of vacation. The minister was a kind-hearted but weak old man, who treated me tenderly, and humored every caprice that attacked my brain. I had never before been his guest, and here, at his house, on the second day of my sojourn, I met his favorite nephew, Maurice Carlyle."

Mrs. Gerome uttered the name through firmly set teeth, and the blue cords on her forehead tangled terribly.

Clenching her fingers, she drew a long breath, and continued,--

"At that time, he was by far the most fascinating, and certainly the handsomest man I have ever met, and when I recall the beauty of his face, the grace of his manner, the n.o.ble symmetry of his figure, and the sparkling vivacity of his conversation, I do not wonder that from the first hour of our acquaintance he charmed me. I was but a child, a proud, impulsive young thing, full of romance, full of wild dreams of manly chivalry and feminine constancy and devotion; and Maurice Carlyle seemed the perfect incarnation of all my glowing ideals of knightly excellence and heroism. He was thirty,--I not yet sixteen; he poor and fastidious,--I generous and trusting, and possessed of one of the largest estates on the continent. He had spent much of his life abroad, and was as polished as any courtier who ever graced St. Cloud or St. James; I an impetuous young simpleton, who knew nothing of the world, save those tantalizing glimpses s.n.a.t.c.hed from behind the bars of a boarding-school. Here, examine these portraits, while the light still lingers, and you will see the woful disparity that existed between us at that period. They were painted a fortnight after I met him."

She opened a velvet case, and laid before her companion two oval ivory miniatures, richly set with large pearls.

Dr. Grey took them both in his hand, and, by the dull, lurid glow that tipped a ridge of clouds lying along the western horizon, he saw two pictures.

One, a remarkably handsome man, with brilliant black eyes and regular features, and a cast of countenance that forcibly reminded him of the likenesses of Edgar A. Poe, while the expression denoted more of chicane than chivalry in his character. The other, a fresh, sweet, girlish face, eloquent with innocence and purity, with clear, gray eyes, overhung by jetty lashes, and overarched by black brows, while a ma.s.s of dark hair was heaped in short curls on her forehead and temples, and fell in long ringlets over her neck.

Dr. Grey looked at Mrs. Gerome, and now at the portrait, but the resemblance could nowhere be traced, save in the delicate yet haughty arch of the eyebrows, and the dainty moulding of the faultless nose.

While he glanced from one to the other, she placed a third miniature beside those in his hand, and he started at sight of a surpa.s.singly lovely countenance, which recalled the outlines of one that he had left in his library three hours before, where Miss Dexter sat reading to Muriel.

"There you have the G.o.ds of my old worship,--Edith and Maurice. Can you wonder at my infatuation?"

She took the pictures, and a derisive smile distorted her lips, as she looked shiveringly at them, and hastily replaced them on their velvet cushions. Closing the spring with a convulsive snap, she tossed the case on the terrace, whence it fell to the gra.s.s below; and drew her blue velvet drapery closer around her.

"Dr. Grey, you know quite enough of human nature to antic.i.p.ate what followed. Three days after I met Maurice Carlyle, he swore deathless devotion to his 'gray-eyed angel,' and offered me his hand. Ah! when I recall that evening, and think of the words uttered so tenderly, so pa.s.sionately, when I summon before me that radiant face, and listen again to the voice that so utterly bewitched me, the remembrance maddens me, and I feel a murderous hate of my race stirring my blood into fierce throbs. With my hands folded in his, we planned our future, painted visions that made my brain reel, and when his lips touched my forehead, as sacred seal of our betrothal, I felt that earth could add nothing to my blessed lot. Of course Mr. Wright warmly sanctioned my choice, drugging his conscience with the reflection that if Maurice was extravagant and inert, my fortune would obviate the necessity of his attending to his nominal profession, that of the law. The old man insisted, however, that as I was a mere child, we must defer our marriage two years. Mr.

Carlyle frowned, and vowed he could not live more than twelve months without his 'peerless prize,' and like any other silly girl, I believed it as unhesitatingly as I did the lessons from the gospels that were read to us night and morning. What cloudless days flew over my young head, during the ensuing month; days wherein I never tired of kneeling and thanking G.o.d for the marvellous blessing of Maurice Carlyle's love. Life was mantling in a crystal goblet, like _eau de vie de Dantzic_, and I could not even taste it without watching the gold sparkles rise and fall and flash; and how could I dream, then, that the draught was not brightened with gilt leaves, but really flavored with _curare_? The only drawback to my happiness was Elsie's opposition to my engagement, and Mr. Carlyle's refusal to allow me to acquaint Edith with my betrothal. He was so 'furiously jealous of that yellow-haired woman whom his darling loved too well.'

It would be quite time enough to inform her of my happiness when I returned to school. From the beginning, Elsie distrusted, disliked, and eyed him suspiciously, but her expostulations and arguments only strengthened his influence, and partially overthrew hers. One day Mr.

Carlyle sought me in great haste, and with considerable agitation informed me that he had been unexpectedly summoned abroad. Business, with the details of which he tenderly forbore to weary me, would detain him many months in Europe, and he implored me to consent to a private marriage before his departure. Mr. Wright was in very feeble health, had been threatened with paralysis, and my ardent lover would be too unendurably miserable separated from me, when death might at any moment rob me of my guardian. I consented, and hastened to obtain Mr. Wright's sanction. That day chanced to be one of his despondent, hypochondriacal seasons, and after some persuasion on my part, and much sophistry from his nephew, the weak old man yielded. Then my lover pressed his advantage, and vowed he could never leave me, that his young bride must accompany him to London, that my mind would be too much engrossed by thoughts of him to permit the possibility of my studying advantageously in his absence, and that he would a.s.sume the responsibility of superintending and perfecting his wife's education. Mr. Wright demurred; Mr. Carlyle raved; I wept. Maurice clasped me in his arms, and in the midst of my tears and pleadings, my guardian succ.u.mbed. It was arranged that our marriage should take place within a fortnight, and that we should immediately start to Europe. Poor Elsie!--truest, wisest, best friend G.o.d ever gave me,--was enraged and distressed beyond expression. She wept, wrung her hands, and falling on her knees entreated me not to execute my insane purpose,--a.s.sured me I was a lamb led to sacrifice, was the victim of an infamous scheme between uncle and nephew to possess themselves of my estate, and she exhausted argument and persuasion in attempting to recall my wandering common sense. Much as I loved her, this bitter vituperation of my idol incensed and estranged me, and I temporarily forbade her to enter my presence. Poor, dear, devoted Elsie! When my heart relented, and I sought her to a.s.sure her of my forgiveness, tears and groans greeted me, and I found her sitting at the foot of her bed, with her face hidden in her ap.r.o.n."

Stretching her arms towards the grave, Mrs. Gerome paused; her lips quivered, and two tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Ah! dear old heart! Brave, true, tender soul! How different my lot would have been had I heeded her prayers and counsel! Not until I lie down yonder, and mingle my dust with hers, can I, even for an instant, forget her faithful, sleepless care and love. I believe she is the only human being who was ever tenderly and truly attached to me, and G.o.d knows I learned before I lost her how much her affection was worth."

The cold, ringing voice grew tremulous, wavering, and some moments pa.s.sed before Mrs. Gerome continued,--

"Mr. Carlyle preferred a private wedding, but I insisted upon a ceremony at the church where Mr. Wright officiated, and immediately telegraphed to Edith, requesting her presence as bridesmaid, and offering to provide her outfit and defray all expenses, if she would accompany us to Europe. My betrothed bit his lip, and objected; but on this point, at least, I was firm, and a.s.sured him I would not be married unless Edith could be with me. She wrote, declining my invitation to Europe, but came to New York, the day of my wedding.

When I look back at what followed, I have a vague, confused feeling, similar to that which results from taking opium. Mr. Carlyle had positively interdicted my taking Elsie to Europe, a.s.suring me that his wife should not be in leading-strings to a spoiled and presumptuous nurse, and promising me that, when we returned to America, she might occupy the position of housekeeper in our establishment. Absorbed by my own supreme happiness, I scarcely saw Edith until we were dressed for the ceremony, and when she came and leaned against the table where the bridal presents were arranged, I noticed that she was pale and much agitated, but ascribed her emotion to grief at my approaching departure. Several of my schoolmates officiated as bridesmaids, and a large party a.s.sembled at the church to witness the marriage. Mr.

Carlyle was a great favorite in society, and his friends were invited to the wedding breakfast at the parsonage. It was on the bright morning of my sixteenth birthday, when I stood before the altar and listened to and uttered the words that made me a wife. Every syllable, every intonation, of the minister's voice is branded on my memory as with a red-hot iron: 'Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after G.o.d's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?' And there, before the altar, with the stained gla.s.s making a rainbow behind the pulpit, I answered, '_I will_.' Oh, Dr. Grey, pity me! pity me!"

A cry of anguish escaped her, and she extended her arms until her hands rested on her companion's shoulder.

In silence he bent his head, and put his lips to the tightly clasped fingers.

"Tell me, sir,--if that vow means that man may make a plaything of G.o.d's statutes? If it binds for one hour, does it not bind while life lasts?"

"'_So long as ye both shall live_,'" answered Dr. Grey, solemnly; and he gently removed her hand, and drew himself a little farther from her.

She was too painfully engrossed by sad reminiscences to notice the action, and resumed her narrative.

"There was a gay party at the breakfast, and I could not remove my fascinated eyes from the radiant face of my husband, who had never seemed half so princely as now, when he was wholly my own. Once he bent his handsome head to mine, and whispered, '_La Peregrina_,' the pet name he had given me, because he averred that, in his estimation, my love was worth as many ducats as that celebrated pearl of Philip.

'_La Peregrina_,' indeed! Ah! he melted it in gall and hemlock, and drained it at his wedding feast. My heart was so overflowing with happiness that I slipped my fingers into his, and, in answer to his fond epithet, whispered, 'Maurice, my king.'"

The speaker was silent for a moment, and an expression of disgust and scorn usurped the place of mournfulness.

"Dr. Grey, I deserved my punishment, for no Aztec ever worshipped his stone G.o.d more devoutly than I did my black-eyed, smooth-lipped idol.

'Thou shalt have no other G.o.ds before me.' Ah! my 'graven image'

seemed so marvellously G.o.dlike that I bowed down before it; and there, in the midst of my adoration, the curse of idolatry smote me. Half bewildered by the rapture that made my heart throb almost to suffocation, I stole away from the guests and hid myself in the small hot-house attached to Mr. Wright's study, longing for a little quiet that would enable me to realize all the blessedness of my lot. With childish glee I toyed with my t.i.tle,--with my new name,--Maurice Carlyle's wife--Evelyn Carlyle! How pretty it sounded,--how holy it seemed! My future was as brilliant as that vast enchanted hall into which poor Nouronihar was enticed through her insane love for Vathek, and, like hers, my illusion was dispelled by a decree that strangled hope in my heart, and enveloped it in flames."

Here the flood of melancholy memories drowned her words, and, crossing her arms on the stone bal.u.s.trade, she sat silent and moody.