Wives and Widows; or The Broken Life Part 50

Mr. Lee was grave and silent; he once or twice glanced at our guest, with some anxiety in his look, but made no comment on her changed appearance.

After breakfast I went out for a walk. The morning was bright and cool, inviting me to a long ramble. But my health was not altogether restored, and anxiety made me listless; so I walked slowly across the face of the hill, came out at the footpath on the ridge, and wandered on till I came to the rock which terminated it. I had been sitting on it a little while, gazing languidly down at the gleams of water that came up through the green hemlocks, some two hundred feet beneath, when the sound of voices from the grove disturbed me.

I had a nervous dread of being seen by Mrs. Dennison or her friends, and let myself down from the rock to the face of the precipitous descent--a perilous exploit--for a false step might have sent me headlong to the river below. I became sensible of the danger of my position after the first moment, and, clinging to a young ash-tree, pressed myself against the leaning trunk of a hemlock and waited for the persons, whose voices I had heard, to pa.s.s.

Directly two persons came winding down the path, and stood upon the rock I had just left. It was Mrs. Dennison and Mr. Lawrence, talking eagerly.

The languor that had marked her appearance at breakfast was gone. She was sharp and animated, spoke with earnestness, and seemed now pleading, now explaining. I caught a glimpse of his face. It was flushed with anger, not to say rage.

"It is useless to upbraid me. I loved you; it was death to give you up.

At a distance it seemed easy enough; but when I saw you together and marked something too real in your devotion, it drove me mad. I could not marry you myself, poverty-stricken wretches that we are! but you cannot blame me if the trial of giving you to another was beyond human strength."

"But you were false. You told me that she also was false; that she secretly encouraged young Bosworth; that I was treacherously undermining my own friend."

Lawrence spoke in a loud, angry voice. The look which he bent on her was stormy with pa.s.sion.

"Lawrence, this rage is useless. I did all that lay in my power to break up the work I had helped to do. For a time, poverty, anything seemed better than the possibility of seeing you the husband of that proud girl. Then my own future was uncertain; now it is a.s.sured. Between them the father and daughter have unbounded wealth. It is worth a great sacrifice--I make it. This is my first step, my first humiliation. It was false. All that I told you was false. She did not love that young man, she did love you. I fancied--and here the trouble arose--that you were beginning to love her, that it gave you no pain to change. This embittered me. I misrepresented her, told you that she visited Bosworth's sick-chamber from affection, when I knew that it was only the persuasion of that troublesome Miss Hyde which sent her to the house.

Now I take it all back. She is heart-whole save in love for you. She never cared for him in the least. It was you she loved."

I caught a second glimpse of his face as he turned it from her; a flash of triumph pa.s.sed over it, breaking its frowns as lightning cleaves a thunder-cloud. My heart fell. The man loved our Jessie. With his strength and power of character, could she resist a pa.s.sion that was evidently genuine?

Mrs. Dennison looked at him sharply; but his face was dark enough under her glance, and she went on, perhaps satisfied of his indifference.

"There is no time for hesitation, Lawrence. It will be impossible for me to keep my post here many days longer. The young lady scarcely endures me, Miss Hyde turns to marble when I enter her presence, and there is that imp of a girl crossing my path at every turn. I must leave the house--and that within a few days--unless you forgive me and find means of appeasing the young lady. That accomplished, I shall be more necessary to the household than ever. Everything will be on velvet then."

"Are you so sure of the old gentleman then?" inquired Lawrence, with a half sneer.

She smiled, and gave her head a disdainful movement.

"Am I sure of my life?"

He turned upon her with a look of scornful approbation.

"You are an extraordinary woman, widow."

"You have said as much, in a more complimentary fashion, before this,"

she answered.

"Perhaps," he answered, carelessly; "but we understand each other too well for fine speeches. Now, let us talk clearly. On your word of honor as a lady, all that you told me regarding Miss Lee before I took that rude departure, was false?"

"Yes; though you might use a softer word."

"And you believe she loves me yet in spite of my ungentlemanly withdrawal?"

"I am certain of it."

"You wish me to beg pardon and propose?"

"Wish!"

The woman locked her hands pa.s.sionately, and turned her pale face upon him.

"Wish! You know I _cannot_ wish it; but it is inevitable."

"In order to smooth your way with this grand old gentleman."

The woman shuddered visibly, and clasped her hands once more till the blood flew back under the almond-shaped nails, leaving them white as pearls.

"How indifferently you speak of a thing which drives me mad!"

"Indifferently? No. You have made your arrangements, and do me the honor to include mine with them."

"You are angry with me--hurt that I can decide on this marriage."

"No, neither angry nor hurt on that point."

She looked at him imploringly.

"Is this said in order to wound me?"

"It is said because I feel it."

"And you do not care that I bind myself for life to this man?"

"Care? Yes; why not?"

"I have thought it all over hundreds of times, when we talked of marriage those lovely nights on the beach. It was a sweet dream, worthy of two young people in their teens. We forgot everything,--the luxurious habits which had become second nature to us both,--the impossibility of making even love wild as ours suffice with everything else wanting. We were neither young enough nor foolish enough to carry that idea out."

"Or, even then, to entertain it seriously for a moment," said Lawrence, coldly breaking in upon her.

"Perhaps not," she said, mournfully. "It was a dream, and as such we discussed it; but the wish--oh! that was strong with us both!"

A cloud of disgustful feelings swept over the man's face, such as fill a refined heart while reviving some pa.s.sion that has died out in contempt.

"Well, we will not dwell upon these moonlight dreams, but the future."

"Which will, at least, give us the right to see each other, and will secure between us one of the largest fortunes in the United States. If we cannot be all in all to each other, everything else necessary to happiness will be ours."

Again that expression swept over his face, but she was not looking at him; the thoughts in her mind were such as turn the eyes away from any human countenance. I could read all this plainly in their two faces.

"Let us pa.s.s over these things," he said, gravely regarding her. "You and I ought to know that human will seldom regulates events; let us try to act rightly and leave them with a higher power."

She looked at him in amazement an instant; then answered, with a self-sustained laugh,--

"Strong spirits make their own circ.u.mstances! We are making ours!"

"I know that is your opinion; but no matter, this is no place for discussion. Once again, let me understand. I am not disposed to criticise your motives for this--I will use the softer word-- mystification; but now we must take clear ground. You again a.s.sure me that, in seeking Miss Lee, I shall not meet with a rebuff either from the lady or her father?"

"I am sure of it."