Wives and Widows; or The Broken Life Part 62

"Lawrence started up, and the quick fire leaped to his eyes. He took both my hands in his, with a firm, almost painful grasp.

"'Not grat.i.tude. I will not have that, because--because it is all so undeserved. I did nothing that Tom himself would not have thought of. It was her own sublime courage, sir, that saved us from a terrible calamity.'

"Mr. Dennison gave me a look that seemed almost like adoration.

"'I am sure she would behave like an angel anywhere,' he said, 'but that does not lessen the value of your own brave action, my friend, and for that we are both bound to you forever.'

"'Well, let it rest so,' answered Lawrence, with an uneasy laugh. 'Just now I feel more like thanking G.o.d for a great mercy given, and terrible peril escaped, than anything else. Upon my word, Dennison, I can almost feel those white waters boiling around me now.'

"'They would have made an awful winding-sheet,' I said, with a shudder.

'But you saved me, oh, yes, you saved me.'

"'And your husband also, dear one,' said Mr. Dennison; 'for what would my life have been without you. Why, Lawrence, I have worshipped her ever since she was a little girl; even then, her proud saucy ways had their enchantment. She did not know it; how could she? but the old man's heart was set upon her while she was playing with her doll and bowling her hoop. Her own father never watched her growth with more interest than I felt, and when she learned to love me, why then, Lawrence, I knew for the first time what heaven was.'

"Lawrence looked at me steadily while the old man was speaking, so steadily, that I felt the hot blood rush to my face. Mr. Dennison observed this, and went on triumphing in the love he so truly believed to be his.

"'You see, my friend, how the very remembrance of that sweet confession bathes her face with blushes. She had taken a fancy to the old fellow long before a younger rival could think of entering the field against him, and married him for true love only, not because he was considered the richest planter in this district. She was innocent as a lamb, and as disinterested.'

"'Oh, Mr. Dennison,' I broke forth, 'do not talk about these things, they only weary Mr. Lawrence.'

"'Certainly not. I am deeply interested in everything that makes the happiness or misery of my friend,' said Lawrence, coldly.

"'Ah, she is too modest, I have always told her so, and far too careless about her own interests. Why, would you believe it, Lawrence, I could not get her to look into the state of my property, and learn how much or how little might hereafter come to her. She did not marry my property, but my own dear self; these were her very words, and for such words you cannot blame me if I adore her.'

"I felt myself glowing with shame. If I had ever used such words, it was when this old man seemed the only refuge left to me in my utter desolation. Perhaps I said them and felt them just then, for quiet home, protection, and a shelter were all I asked or hoped for in life; but now, with that man drinking in every word, I felt such protestations as a bitter humiliation.

"I arose to go. The conversation had become unbearable. I felt my lips quiver, and tears of intense mortification gathering to my eyes.

"Lawrence came toward me a step or two, and then retreated, for Mr.

Dennison had given me his arm, and I left the room, bowed down with humiliation, and burning with shame. Why would the old man talk of me as he did? Even if I had loved him, it would have been embarra.s.sing; as it was, all the pride of my nature rose up in revolt against him. At the foot of the stairs I dropped his arm, and insisted on going up alone.

He seemed astonished and a little hurt. How would it have been had I dared to express all the rage that was struggling in my bosom?

"Cora was waiting for me. Poor girl! she had been sadly shocked by the abrupt account of my danger, which Tom had repeated to every one he met.

She is a wayward creature, and at times, I really believe, hates herself with bitter detestation for the black tinge which taints every drop of blood in her veins. Never in my whole life have I seen a human being so sensitive. No matter to her that she is beautiful, and that even the blacks look upon her as apart from themselves, this bitter truth is always uppermost in her mind. She has black blood in her veins, and she was born a slave. I remember how this beautiful girl hated her mother, because it was through her that the taint and the bonds came. One would have thought this wretched woman was the slave of her own child, for one was made to feel all the degradation of her lot, and the other was, to a certain extent, lifted out of it, from the day she was given to me--a child myself--as my especial maid. How it used to amuse my father when this colored child would domineer over and scorn her own mother.

"Sometimes I think Cora is seized with a venomous dislike of myself. I do not wonder at it. In her way, she is quite as beautiful as I ever was, and as for talent, the girl surpa.s.ses me in everything. Her industry is untiring, her perceptions quick as lightning. In some other country she might marry well, and take rank in social life scarcely second to my own. Sometimes I think her ambition turns that way, for she is constantly teasing me to take her to Europe. I only wish it were in my power, for I love the poor girl dearly, and should rejoice to see her lifted out of the pitiful condition that all of her race must occupy here, bond or free, for at least a century to come.

"I have been writing about this girl Cora, because she is so connected with my own life that nothing can separate us. We played together on equal terms as children, and when she gradually dropped into the habits of a servant, it made no change in my affection for her. In my chamber we have always been friends, more than that--more than that!

"Cora saw that I was disturbed, and sitting down at my feet, besought me to tell her the cause.

"For the first time in my life I had a secret to keep from this girl. I could not own to her that a few garrulous words from an old man, who had been so kind to us both, had filled my heart with indignant shame, for she would have asked why such fond words had the power to offend me, and there was no answer ready to my lips.

"Perhaps Cora guessed this, for she was quick as the flash of a star in her intelligence; at any rate, she asked me no questions, but contented herself with braiding my hair, smoothing it with her soft palms, and stooping to kiss my forehead when she saw a shadow of discontent pa.s.s over it.

"'Do not fret,' she said, softly, whispering back the thoughts I was striving to drive from my brain; 'seventy years is longer than most men live. Only have patience and wait.'

"I was angry with her for understanding that, which I wished buried from the whole world. Dashing her hands away, I swept the hair she was braiding in a coil around my head, and turned upon her with such sharp rebuke, that she retreated from me frightened.

"'Ah! has it gone so far?' she muttered, shaking her head. 'Well, after this there will be neither patience nor peace for any of us.'

"I ordered her to be silent, and directly after heard her sobbing in the next room as if her heart were broken.

"Why did Cora's words haunt me all that night? are evil thoughts the only ones which cling tenaciously to the brain? I tried to cast them off, heaven knows I did! but that was impossible, nor could I sleep. The shock upon my nerves had been far too severe for that.

"Why would the old man haunt my room and sit by the pillow on which I could find no rest? His presence tortured me. I could not keep my aching eyes from his white hair and the wrinkles on his forehead, which seemed to deepen and grow prominent in the moonlight of my shaded lamp. How could I forget his seventy years, with such things before me in my wakefulness? But he would not leave me; anxiety kept him watchful. It seemed to me that those bright, earnest eyes read all the dark thoughts that haunted my brain. I turned my face to the wall and pretended to sleep. He sat motionless, holding his very breath, for he knew how much rest must be needed after the awful shock I had received, and would not frighten it away by a single motion. After a while, when everything was still, I felt him bending over me; directly his quivering old lips touched my forehead, and what appeared to me like a heavy rain-drop fell upon my closed eyelid.

"'Thank G.o.d,' he murmured; 'she is asleep at last!'

"This child-like grat.i.tude touched me more than the protest of a thousand clergymen could have done. How purely and dearly the old man loved me, and how unworthy I was! Great heavens, why did I ever marry him, and thus make deception almost a duty? There is one excuse for me--I did not then know what love meant.

"Toward morning, Mr. Dennison went into his own room; then I breathed again; true, he was very near, and by changing my position I could see his white head and grand old face upon the pillow, where he had fallen asleep with a smile of thankfulness upon his lips. After all, he is generous, good, and rich in intelligence. Why is it that love will not go with the reason?

"They would have kept me in bed the next day, but I resisted. The minutes were too precious for such waste. I went down-stairs, feeling like a criminal and looking like one, Cora said, but the two gentlemen regarded my sadness and my pallor as a proof of illness, and would scarcely allow me to speak, such was their anxiety for my welfare. So I sat in my easy-chair languid and still, listening to them as they conversed, and yet gathering but few of their words into my mind. All at once a blow seemed to have struck me. It was only a word, but that one word took away my breath. Mr. Dennison had been asking some question, and Lawrence answered,--

"'To-morrow.'

"'Not so soon as that. Indeed, my friend, we cannot spare you,' said Mr.

Dennison.

"I held my breath. It seemed as if my heart would never beat again. A slow faintness crept over me while Lawrence answered,--

"'But I must: the business which brings me South is too important for delay. Already I have spent nearly a month that may cost me dear.'

"His eyes turned full upon mine. They were dark and heavy with sadness.

G.o.d forgive me if mine expressed too much!

"'But my wife will never consent to this. Speak, dear, and give him one of your pretty commands. It must be important business indeed, which can win him to disobey you.'

"I opened my lips to speak, but no words followed the effort. A choking sensation came into my throat, and the very light went out from before my eyes. They thought me insensible, but my faculties were locked up; I knew everything.

"Mr. Dennison ran into the house, crying out for Cora. That instant Lawrence took me in his arms; I felt his breath upon my face when he drew back with a faint exclamation. Cora stood close by him.

"'She is faint, she is insensible,' he said, hurriedly. His voice was confused, and I could feel that the arm which held me was seized with sudden trembling. 'It was imprudent to let her come down.'

"Cora put him aside, and took my hand from his, just as Mr. Dennison came back to the veranda.

"'Ah,' he cried, joyfully; 'she is better, the color is coming back to her mouth! poor child, poor child! we have let you come out too soon.'

"He stooped down and kissed me tenderly, but I shrunk from him with sudden recoil, and leaning upon Cora, entered the house, so weary and sick at heart that I almost prayed to die.

"There was no rest for me that day. One thought occupied my whole mind: he was going in the morning--going I knew not whither, and the history of the last two weeks would be henceforth all of life that I should care to remember. I wandered from room to room, wondering what course I could take, and how it would be possible to appease the aching pain at my heart. Sometimes I could hear his voice rising up from the veranda. It was low and grave, sometimes I thought constrained, as if the words he uttered came from a preoccupied heart.

"No criminal ever listened for the steps that were to bring him a reprieve with more interest, than I felt in gathering up the broken sentences of that conversation. He was going away, first to New Orleans, then back to New York, where business must suffer until his return. I heard this clearly. It was no rash speech, but a settled determination; yet up to that morning he had never spoken of it."

CHAPTER LXX.