CHAPTER XIII
THE NEW DAYS COME
One afternoon in the late autumn Annie was sitting watching Hydeplaying with his dog, a big mastiff of noble birth and character. Thecreature sat erect with his head leaning against Hyde, and Hyde's armwas thrown around his neck as he talked to him of their adventures onthe Broad that day. Annie's small face, though delicate and fragilelooking was full of peace, and her eyes, soft, deep and heavenly, heldthoughts that linked her with heaven.
Outside there was in the air that November feeling which chills likethe passing breath of death, the deserted garden looked sad andclosed-in, and everywhere there was a sense of the languishing end ofthe year, of the fading and dropping of all living things. But in thehouse Annie and Hyde and the dog sat within the circle of warmth andlight made by the blazing ash logs, and in that circle there was atleast an atmosphere of sweet content. Suddenly George looked up and hiseyes caught those of Annie watching him. "What have you been reading,Annie?" he asked, as he stooped forward and took a thin volume from herlap. "Why!" he cried, "'tis Paul and Virginia. Do you indeed read lovestories?"
"Yes. The mystery of a love affair pleases every one; and I think weshall not tire of love stories till we tire of the mystery of spring,or of primroses and daffodils. Every one I know takes their tale oflove to be quite a new tale."
"Love has been cruel to me. It has made a cloud on my life that willhelp to cover me in my grave."
"You still love Cornelia?"
"I cannot cure myself of a passion so hopeless. However, as I see noend to my unhappiness, I try to submit to what I cannot avoid. What isthe use of longing for that which I have no hope to get?"
"My uncle grows anxious for you to marry. He would be glad to see thesuccession of Hyde assured."
"Oh, indeed, I have no mind to take a wife. I hear every day that someof my acquaintance have married, I hear of none that have done worse."
"You believe nothing of what you say. My uncle was much pleased withSarah Capel. What did you think of the beauty?"
"Cornelia has made all other women so indifferent to me, that if Icannot marry her, my father may dispose of me as he chooses."
"Cannot you forget Cornelia?"
"It is impossible. Every day I resolve to think of her no more, andthen I continue thinking; and every day I am more and more in love withher. Her very name moves me beyond words."
"There is no name, George, however sweet and dear, however lovinglyspoken, whose echo does not at last grow faint."
"Cornelia will echo in my heart as long as my heart beats."
Then they were silent, and Hyde drew his dog closer and watched theblaze among some lighter branches, which a servant had just brought in.At his entrance he had also given Annie a letter, which she was eagerlyreading. Hyde had no speculation about it; and even when he found Annieregarding him with her whole soul in her face, he failed to understand,as he always had done, the noble love which had been so long and sofaithfully his--a love holding itself above endearments;self-repressed, self-sacrificing, kept down in the inmost heart-chambera dignified prisoner behind very real bars. Yet he was conscious thatthe letter was of more than usual interest, and when the servant hadclosed the door behind him, he asked, "Whom is your letter from, Annie?It seems to please you very much."
She leaned forward to him with the paper in her little trembling hand,and said,
"It is from Cornelia."
"My God!" he ejaculated; and the words were fraught with such feeling,as could have found no other vehicle of expression.
"She has sent you, dear George, a copy of the letter you ought to havereceived more than two years ago. Read it."
His eyes ran rapidly over the sweet words, his face flamed, his handstrembled, he cried out impetuously--
"But what does it mean? Am I quite in my senses? How has this letterbeen delayed? Why do I get only a copy?"
"Because Mr. Van Ariens has the original."
"It is all incredible. What do you mean, Annie? Do not keep me in suchtorturing suspense."
"It means that Mr. Van Ariens asked Cornelia to marry him on the sameday that you wrote to her about your marriage. She answered bothletters in the same hour, and misdirected them."
"GOD'S DEATH! How can I punish so mean a scoundrel? I will have myletter from him, if I follow him round the world for it."
"You have your letter now. I asked Cornelia to write it again for you;and you see she has done it gladly."
"Angel of goodness! But I will have my first letter."
"It has been in that man's keeping for more than two years. I would nottouch it. 'Twould infect a gentleman, and make of him a rascal just asbase."
"He shall write me then an apology in his own blood. I will make him doit, at the point of my sword."
"If I were you, I would scorn to wet my sword in blood so base."
"Remember, Annie, what this darling girl suffered. For his treacheryshe nearly died. I speak not of my own wrong--it is as nothing to hers."
"However, she might have been more careful."
"Annie, she was in the happy hurry of love. Your calm soul knows notwhat a confusing thing that is--she made a mistake, and that sneakingvillain turned her mistake into a crime. By a God's mercy, it is foundout--but how? Annie! Annie, how much I owe you! What can I say? Whatcan I do?"
"Be reasonable. Mary Damer really found it out. His guilty restlessconscience forced him to tell her the story, though to be sure he putthe wrong on people he did not name. But I knew so much of the mysteryof your love sorrow, as to put the two stories together, and find themfit. Then I wrote to Cornelia."
"How long ago?"
"About two months."
"Why then did you not give me hope ere this?"
"I would not give you hope, till hope was certain. Two years is a longtime in a girl's life. It was a possible thing for Cornelia to haveforgotten--to have changed."
"Impossible! Quite impossible! She could not forget. She could notchange. Why did you not tell me? I should have known her heart by mineown."
"I wished to be sure," repeated Annie, a little sadly.
"Forgive me, dear Annie. But this news throws me into an unspeakablecondition. You see that I must leave for America at once."
"No. I do not see that, George."
"But if you consider--"
"I have been considering for two months. Let me decide for you now, foryou are not able to do so wisely. Write at once to Cornelia, that isyour duty as well as your pleasure. But before you go to her, there arethings indispensable to be done. Will you ask Doctor Moran for hischild, and not be able to show him that you can care for her as shedeserves to be cared for? Lawyers will not be hurried, there will beconsultations, and engrossings, and signings, and love--in yourcase--will have to wait upon law."
"'Tis hard for love, and harder perhaps for anger to wait. For I am ina passion of wrath at Van Ariens. I long to be near him. Oh whatsuffering his envy and hatred have caused others!"
"And himself also. Be sure of that, or he had not tried to find someease in a kind of confession. Doctor Roslyn will tell you that it is aneternal law, that wherever sin is, sorrow will answer it."
"The man is hateful to me."
"He has done a thing that makes him hateful; but perhaps for all that,he has been so miserable about it, as to have the pity of theUncondemning One. I hear your father coming. I am sure you will havehis sympathy in all things."
She left the room as the Earl entered it. He was in unusually highspirits. Some political news had delighted him, and without noticinghis son's excitement he said--
"The Commons have taken things in their own hands, George. I said theywould. They listen to the King and the Lords very respectfully, andthen obey themselves. Most of the men in the Lower House are unfit toenter it."
"Well, sir, the Lords as a rule send them there--you have sent three ofthem yourself--and unfit men in public places, suppose prior unfitnessin those who have the places to dispose of. But the gove
rnment is notinteresting. I have something else, father, to think about."
"Indeed, I think the government is extremely interesting. It is verylike three horses arranged in tandem fashion--first, you know, theKing, a little out of the reach of the whip; then the Lords follow theKing, and the Commons are in the shafts, a more ignoble position, butyet--as we see to-day, possessing a special power of upsetting thecoach."
"Father, I have very important news from America. Will you listen toit?"
"Yes, if you will tell it to me straight, and not blunder about yourmeaning." "Sir, I have just discovered that a letter sent to me morethan two years ago, has been knowingly and purposely detained from me."
"By whom?"
"A man into whose hands it fell by misdirection."
"Did the letter contain means of identifying it, as belonging to you?"
"Ample means."
"Then the man is outside your recognition. You might as well go to theBridewell, and seek a second among its riff-raff of scoundrels. Tell meshortly whom it concerns."
"Miss Moran."
"Oh indeed! Are we to have that subject opened again?"
His face darkened, and George, with an impetuosity that permitted nointerruption, told the whole story. As he proceeded the Earl becameinterested, then sympathetic. He looked with moist eyes at the youth sodear to him, and saw that his heart was filled with the energy andtenderness of his love. His handsome face, his piercingly bright eyes,his courteous, but obstinately masterful manner, his almost boyishpassion of anger and impatience, his tall, serious figure, erect, as ifready for opposition; even that sentiment of deadly steel, of beingimpatient to toss his sheath from his sword, pleased very much theelder man; and won both his respect and his admiration. He felt thathis son had rights all his own, and that he must cheerfully andgenerously allow them.
"George," he answered, "you have won my approval. You have shown methat you can suffer and be faithful, and the girl able to inspire suchan affection, must be worthy of it. What do you wish to do?"
"I am going to America by the next packet."
"Sit down, then we can talk without feeling that every word is a lastword, and full of hurry and therefore of unreason. You desire to seeMiss Moran without delay, that is very natural."
"Yes, sir. I am impatient also to get my letter."
"I think that of no importance."
"What would you have done in my case, and at my age, father?"
"Something extremely foolish. I should have killed the man, or beenkilled by him. I hope that you have more sense. Society does not nowcompel you to answer insult with murder. The noble not caring of thespirit, is beyond the mere passion of the animal. What does Annie say?"
"Annie is an angel. I walk far below her--and I hate the man who has sowronged--Cornelia. I think, sir, you must also hate him."
"I hate nobody. God send, that I may be treated the same. George, youhave flashed your sword only in a noble quarrel, will you now stain itwith the blood of a man below your anger or consideration? You have hadyour follies, and I have smiled at them; knowing well, that a man whohas no follies in his youth, will have in his maturity no power. Butnow you have come of age, not only in years but in suffering cheerfullyendured and well outlived; so I may talk to you as a man, and notcommand you as a father."
"What do you wish me to do, sir?"
"I advise you to write to Miss Moran at once. Tell her you are moreanxious now to redeem your promise, than ever you were before. Say toher that I already look upon her as a dear daughter, and am takingimmediate steps to settle upon you the American Manor, and also suchNew York property as will provide for the maintenance of your family inthe state becoming your order and your expectations. Tell her that mylawyers will go to this business to-morrow, and that as soon as thedeeds are in your hand, you will come and ask for the interview withDoctor Moran, so long and cruelly delayed."
"My dear father! How wise and kind you are!"
"It is my desire to be so, George. You cannot, after this unfortunatedelay, go to Doctor Moran without the proofs of your ability to takecare of his daughter's future."
"How soon can this business be accomplished?"
"In about three weeks, I should think. But wait your full time, and donot go without the credentials of your position. This three or fourweeks is necessary to bring to perfection the waiting of two years."
"I will take your advice, sir. I thank you for your generosity."
"All that I have is yours, George. And you can write to this dear girlevery day in the interim. Go now and tell her what I say. I had otherdreams for you as you know--they are over now--I have awakened."
"Dear Annie!" ejaculated George.
"Dear Annie!" replied the Earl with a sigh. "She is one of thedaughters of God, I am not worthy to call her mine; but I have sat ather feet, and learned how to love, and how to forgive, and how to beardisappointment. I will tell you, that when Colonel Saye insulted melast year, and I felt for my sword and would have sent him a letter onits point--Annie stepped before him. 'Forget, and go on, dear uncle,'she said; and I did so with a proud, sore heart at first, but quitecheerfully in a week or two; and at the last Hunt dinner he came to mewith open hand, and we ate and drank together, and are now firmfriends. Yet, but for Annie, one of us might be dead; and the otherflying like Cain exiled and miserable. Think of these things, George.The good of being a son, is to be able to profit from your father'smistakes."
They parted with a handclasp that went to both hearts, and as Hydepassed his mother's loom, he went in, and told her all that happened tohim, She listened with a smile and a heartache. She knew now that thetime had come to say "farewell" to the boy who had made her life fortwenty-seven years. "He must marry like the rest of the world, and goaway from her," and only mothers know what supreme self-sacrifice apleasant acquiescence in this event implies. But she bravely put downall the clamouring selfishness of her long sweet care and affection,and said cheerfully--
"Very much to my liking is Cornelia Moran, She is world-like andheaven-like, and her good heart and sweet nature every one knows. Aloving wife and a noble mother she will make, and if I must lose thee,my Joris, there is no girl in America that I like better to have thee."
"Never will you lose me, mother."
"Ah then! that is what all sons say. The common lot, I look for nothingbetter. But see now! I give thee up cheerfully. If God please, I shallsee thy sons and daughters; and thy father has been anxious about theHydes. He would not have a stranger here--nor would I. Our hope is inthee and thy sweet wife, and very glad am I that thy wife is to beCornelia Moran."
And even after Joris had left her she smiled, though the tears droppeddown upon her work. She thought of the presents she would send herdaughter, and she told herself that Cornelia was an American, and thatshe had made for her, with her own hands and brain, a lovely homewherein HER memory must always dwell. Indeed she let her thoughts gofar forward to see, and to listen to the happy boys and girls who mightrun and shout gleefully through the fair large rooms, and the sweetshady gardens her skill and taste had ordered and planted. Thus hergenerosity made her a partaker of her children's happiness, and whoeverpartakes of a pleasure has his share of it, and comes into contact--notonly with the happiness--but with the other partakers of thathappiness--a divine kind of interest for generous deeds, which we mayall appropriate.
Nothing is more contagious than joy, and Hyde was now a living joythrough all the house. His voice had caught a new tone, his feet a morebuoyant step, he carried himself like a man expectant of some gloriousheritage. So eager, so ardent, so ready to be happy, he inspired everyone with his buoyant gladness of heart. He could at least talk toCornelia with his pen every day, yes, every hour if he desired; and ifit had been possible to transfer in a letter his own light-heartedness,the words he wrote would have shone upon the paper.
The next morning Mary Damer called. She knew that a letter fromCornelia was possible, and she knew also that it would really be asfateful to
herself, as to Hyde. If, as she suspected, it was Rem VanAriens who had detained the misdirected letter, there was only oneconceivable result as regarded herself. She, an upright, honourableEnglish girl, loving truth with all her heart, and despising whateverwas underhand and disloyal, had but one course to take--she must breakoff her engagement with a man so far below her standard of simplemorality. She could not trust his honour, and what security has love ina heart without honour?
So she looked anxiously at Annie as she entered, and Annie would notkeep her in suspense. "There was a letter from Miss Moran last night,"she said. "She loves George yet. She re-wrote the unfortunate letter,and this time it found its owner. I think he has it next his heart atthis very moment."
"I am glad of that, Annie. But who has the first letter?"
"I think you know, Mary."
"You mean Mr. Van Ariens?"
"Yes."
"Then there is no more to be said. I shall write to him as soon aspossible."
"I am sorry--"
"No, no! Be content, Annie. The right must always come right. Neitheryou nor I could desire any other end, even to our own love story."
"But you must suffer."
"Not much. None of us weep if we lose what is of no value. And I havenoticed that the happiness of any one is always conditioned by theunhappiness of some one else. Love usually builds his home out of thewrecks of other homes. Your cousin and Cornelia will be happy, butthere are others that must suffer, that they may be so. I will go now,Annie, because until I have written to Mr. Van Ariens, I shall not feelfree. And also, I do not wish him to come here, and in his last letterhe spoke of such an intention."
So the two letters--that of Hyde to Cornelia, and that of Mary Darnerto Van Ariens, left England for America in the same packet; and thoughMary Darner undoubtedly had some suffering and disappointment toconquer, the fight was all within her. To her friends at the Manor shewas just the same bright, courageous girl; ready for every emergency,and equally ready to make the most of every pleasure.
And the tone of the Manor House was now set to a key of the highest joyand expectation. Hyde unconsciously struck the note, for he was happilybusy from morning to night about affairs relating either to hismarriage, or to his future as the head of a great household. All hisold exigent, extravagant liking for rich clothing returned to him. Hehad constant visits from his London tailor, a dapper little artist, whobrought with him a profusion of rich cloth, silk and satin, and whofirmly believed that the tailor made the man. There were also endlessinterviews with the family lawyer, endless readings of law papers, andendless consultations about rights and successions, which Hyde was gladand grateful to leave very much to his father's wisdom and generosity.
At the beginning of this happy period, Hyde had been sure that thebusiness of his preparations would be arranged in three weeks; a monthhad appeared to be a quite unreasonable and impossible delay; but themonth passed, and it was nearly the middle of November when all thingswere ready for his voyage. His mother would then have urged apostponement until spring, but she knew that George would brook nofurther delay; and she was wise enough to accept the inevitablecheerfully. And thus by letting her will lead her, in the very roadnecessity drove her, she preserved not only her liberty, but her desire.
Some of these last days were occupied in selecting from her jewelspresents for Cornelia, with webs of gold and silver tissues, andSpitalfields silks so rich and heavy, that no mortal woman might hopeto outwear them. To these Annie added from her own store of lace, manyvery valuable pieces; and the happy bridegroom was proud to see thatlove was going to send him away, with both arms full for the beloved.
The best gift however came last, and it was from the Earl. It was notgold or land, though he gave generously of both these; but one whichHyde felt made his way straight before him, and which he knew must havecost his father much self-abnegation. It was the following letter toDr. John Moran.
MY DEAR SIR:
It seems then, that our dear children love each other so well, that itis beyond our right, even as parents, to forbid their marriage. I askfrom you, for my son, who is a humble and ardent suitor for MissMoran's hand, all the favour his sincere devotion to her deserves, Wehave both been young, we have both loved, accept then his affection assome atonement for any grievance or injustice you remember againstmyself. Had we known each other better, we should doubtless have lovedeach other better; but now that marriage will make us kin, I offer youmy hand, with all it implies of regret for the past, and of respect forthe future. Your servant to command,
RICHARD HYDE.
"It is the greatest proof of my love I can give you, George," said theEarl, when the letter had been read; "and it is Annie you must thankfor it. She dropped the thought into my heart, and if the thought hassilently grown to these written words, it is because she had put manyother good thoughts there, and that these helped this one to come toperfection."
"Have you noticed, father, how small and fragile-looking she is? Canshe really be slowly dying?"
"No, she is not dying; she is only going a little further away--alittle further away, every hour. Some hour she will be called, and shewill answer, and we shall see her no more--HERE. But I do not call thatdying, and if it be dying, Annie will go as calmly and simply, as ifshe were fulfilling some religious rite or duty. She loves God, and shewill go to Him."
The next morning Hyde left his father's home forever. It was impossiblethat such a parting should be happy. No hopes, no dreams of future joy,could make him forget the wealth of love he was leaving. Nor did hewish to forget. And woe to the man or woman who would buy composure andcontentment by forgetting!--by really forfeiting a portion of theirexistence--by being a suicide of their own moral nature.
The day was a black winter day, with a monotonous rain and a dark skytroubled by a ghostly wind. Inside the house the silence fell on theheart like a weight. The Earl and Countess watched their son's carriageturn from the door, and then looked silently into each other's face.The Earl's lips were firmly set, and his eyes full of tears; theCountess was weeping bitterly. He went with her to her room, and withall his old charm and tenderness comforted her for her great loss.
At that moment Annie was forgotten, yet no one was suffering more thanshe was. Hyde had knelt by her sofa, and taken her in his arms, andcovered her face with tears and kisses, and she had not been able tooppose a parting so heart-breaking and so final. The last tears she wasever to shed dropped from her closed eyes, as she listened to hisdeparting steps; and the roll of the carriage carrying him awayforever, seemed to roll over her shrinking heart. She cried outfeebly--a pitiful little shrill cry, that she hushed with a sob stillmore full of anguish. Then she began to cast over her suffering soulthe balm of prayer, and prostrate with closed eyes, and hands feeblyhanging down, Doctor Roslyn found her. He did not need to ask aquestion, he had long known the brave self-sacrifice that wasconsecrating the child-heart suffering so sharply that day; and he saidonly--
"We are made perfect through suffering, Annie."
"I know, dear father."
"And you have found before this, that the sorrow well borne is full ofstrange joys--joys, whose long lasting perfumes, show that they weregrown in heaven and not on earth."
"This is the last sorrow that can come to me, father."
"And my dear Annie, you would have been a loser without it. Every griefhas its meaning, and the web of life could not be better woven, if onlylove touched it."
"I have been praying, father."
"Nay, but God Himself prayed in you, while your soul waited in deepresignation. God gave you both the resignation and the answer."
"My heart failed me at the last--then I prayed as well as I could."
"And then, visited by the NOT YOURSELF in you, your head was lifted up.Do not be frightened at what you want. Strive for it little by little.All that is bitter in outward things, or in interior things, all thatbefalls you in the course of a day, is YOUR DAILY BREAD if you willtake it from His hand."
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Then she was silent and quite still, and he sat and watched the graduallifting of the spirit's cloud--watched, until the pallor of her facegrew luminous with the inner light, and her wide open eyes saw, as in avision, things, invisible to mortal sight; but open to the spirit onthat dazzling line where mortal and immortal verge.
And as he went home, stepping slowly through the misty world, hehimself hardly knew whether he was in the body or out of it. He feltnot the dripping rain, he was not conscious of the encompassing earthlyvapours, he had passed within the veil and was worshipping
"In dazzling temples opened straight to Him, Where One who had great lightnings for His crown Was suddenly made present; vast and dim Through crowded pinions of the Cherubim."
And his feet stumbled not, nor was he aware of anything around, untilthe Earl met him at the park gates and touching him said reverently--
"Father, you are close to the highway. Have you seen Annie?"
"I have just left her."
"She is further from us than ever."
"Richard Hyde," he answered, "she is on her way to God, and she canrest nothing short of that."
CHAPTER XIV
"HUSH! LOVE IS HERE!"
On the morning that Hyde sailed for America, Cornelia received theletter he had written her on the discovery of Rem's dishonourableconduct. So much love, so much joy, sent to her in the secret foldingsof a sheet of paper! In a hurry of delight and expectation she openedit, and her beaming eyes ran all over the joyful words it broughther--sweet fluttering pages, that his breath had moved, and his facebeen aware of. How he would have rejoiced to see her pressing them toher bosom, at some word of fonder memory or desire.
There was much in this letter which it was necessary her father andmother should hear--the Earl's message to them--Hyde's own propositionfor an immediate marriage, and various necessities referring to thisevent. But she was proud and happy to read words of such noble,straightforward affection; and the Doctor was especially pleased by thedeference expressed for his wishes. When he left the house that day hekissed his daughter with pride and tenderness, and said to Mrs. Moran--
"Ava, there will be much to get, and much to do in a short time, butmoney manages all things Do not spare where it is necessary." And thenwhat important and interesting consultations followed! what lists oflovely garments became imperative, which an hour before had not beendreamed of! what discussions as to mantua makers and milliners! as toguests and ceremonies! as to all the details of a life unknown, butinvested by love and youth, with a delightfully overwhelming importance.
Cornelia was so happy that her ordinary dress of grey camelot did notexpress her; she felt constrained to add to it some bows of brightscarlet ribbon, and then she looked round about her room, and wentthrough her drawers, to find something else to be a visible witness tothe light heart singing within her. And she came across some coralcombs that Madame Jacobus had given her, and felt their vivid colouringin the shining masses of her dark hair, to be one of the right ways ofsaying to herself, and all she loved, "See how happy I am!"
In the afternoon, when the shopping for the day had been accomplished,she went to Captain Jacobus, to play with him the game of backgammonwhich had become an almost daily duty, and to which the Captainattached a great importance. Indeed, for many weeks it had been theevent of every day to him; and if he was no longer dependent on it, hewas grateful enough to acknowledge all the good it had done him. "I oweyour daughter as much as I owe you, sir," he would say to Doctor Moran,"and I owe both of you a bigger debt than I can clear myself of."
This afternoon he looked at his visitor with a wondering speculation.There was something in her face, and manner, and voice, he had neverbefore seen or heard, and madame--who watched every expression of herhusband--was easily led to the same observation. She observed Corneliaclosely, and her gay laugh especially revealed some change. It was likethe burst of bird song in early spring, and she followed the happy girlto the front door, and called her back when she had gone down thesteps, and said, as she looked earnestly in her face--
"You have heard from Joris Hyde? I know you have!" and Cornelia noddedher head, and blushed, and smiled, and ran away from further question.
When she reached home she found Madame Van Heemskirk sitting with hermother, and the sweet old lady rose to meet her, and said beforeCornelia could utter a word:
"Come to me, Cornelia. This morning a letter we have had from my Joris,and sorry am I that I did thee so much wrong."
"Madame, I have long ago forgotten it; and there was a mistake allround," answered Cornelia, cheerfully.
"That is so--and thy mistake first of all. Hurry is misfortune; even tobe happy, it is not wise to hurry. Listen now! Joris has written to hisgrandfather, and also to me, and very busy he will keep us both. Hisgrandfather is to look after the stables and the horses, and to buymore horses, and to hire serving men of all kinds. And a long letteralso I have had from my daughter Katherine, and she tells me to makeher duty to thee my duty. That is my pleasure also, and I have beentalking with thy mother about the house. Now I shall go there, and avery pleasant home I shall make it. Many things Joris will bring withhim--two new carriages and much fine furniture--and I know not whatelse beside."
Then Cornelia kissed madame, and afterwards removed her bonnet; andmadame looked at her smiling. The vivid coral in her dark hair, themodest grey dress with its knots of colour, and above all the lovelyface alight with love and hope, delighted her.
"Very pretty art thou, very pretty indeed!" she said, impulsively; andthen she added, "Many other girls are very pretty also, but my Jorisloves thee, and I am glad that it is thee, and very welcome art thou tome, and very proud is my husband of thee. And now I must go, becausethere is much to do, and little time to do it in."
For nearly a week Cornelia was too busy to take Arenta into herconsideration. She did not care to tell her about Rem's cruel anddishonourable conduct, and she was afraid the shrewd little Marquisewould divine some change, and get the secret out of her. Indeed, Arentawas not long in suspecting something unusual in the Doctor'shousehold--the number of parcels and of work people astonished her; andshe was not a little offended at Madame Van Heemskirk spending a wholeafternoon so near to her, and "never even," as she said to her father,"turning her head this way." For Arenta had drunk a rather long draughtof popular interest, and she could not bear to believe it wasdeclining. Was she not the American heroine of 1793? It was almost awant of patriotism in Madame Van Heemskirk to neglect her.
After a week had elapsed Cornelia went over one morning to see herfriend. But by this time Arenta knew everything. Her brother Rem hadbeen with her and confessed all to his sister. It had not been apleasant meeting by any means. She heard the story with indignation,but contrived to feel that somehow Rem was not so much to blame asCornelia, and other people.
"You are right served," she said to her brother, "for meddling withforeigners, and especially for mixing your love affairs up with anEnglish girl. Proud, haughty creatures all of them! And you are a veryfool to tell any woman such a--crime. Yes, it is a crime. I won't sayless. That girl over the way nearly died, and you would have let herdie. It was a shame. I don't love Cornelia--but it was a shame."
"The letter was addressed to me, Arenta."
"Fiddlesticks! You knew it was not yours. You knew it was Hyde's. Whereis it now?"
She asked the question in her usual dominant way, and Rem did not feelable to resist it. He looked for a moment at the angry woman, and wassubdued by her air of authority. He opened his pocketbook and from areceptacle in it, took the fateful letter. She seized and read it, andthen without a word, or a moment's hesitation threw it into the fire.
Rem blustered and fumed, and she stood smiling defiantly at him. "Youare like all criminals," she said; "you must keep something to accuseyourself with. I love you too well to permit you to carry that bit ofpaper about you. It has worked you harm enough. What are you going todo? Is Miss Darner's refusal quite final?"
> "Quite. It was even scornful."
"Plenty of nice girls in Boston."
"I cannot go back to Boston."
"Why then?"
"Because Mary's cousin has told the whole affair."
"Nonsense!"
"She has. I know it. Men, whom I had been friendly with, got out of myway; women excused themselves at their homes, and did not see me on thestreets. I have no doubt all Boston is talking of the affair."
"Then come back to New York. New Yorkers attend strictly to their ownlove affairs. Father will stand by you; and I will."
"Father will not. He called me a scoundrel, when I told him last night,and advised me to go to the frontier. Joris Van Heemskirk will nottalk, but madame will chatter for him, and I could not bear to meetDoctor Moran. As for Captain Jacobus, he would invent new words andoaths to abuse me with, and Aunt Angelica would, of course, say amen toall he says;--and there are others."
"Yes, there is Lord Hyde."
"Curse him! But I intended to give him his letter--now you have burntit."
"You intended nothing of the kind, Rem. Go away as soon as you can. Idon't want to know where you go just yet. New York is impossible, andBoston is impossible. Father says go to the frontier, I say go South.What you have done, you have done; and it cannot be undone; so don'tcarry it about with you. And I would let women alone--they are beyondyou--go in for politics."
That day Rem lingered with his sister, seeing no one else; and in theevening shadows he slipped quietly away. He was very wretched, for hereally loved Mary Damer, and his disappointment was bitterly keen andhumiliating. Besides which, he felt that his business efforts for twoyears were forfeited, and that he had the world to begin over again.Without a friend to wish him a Godspeed the wretched man went on boardthe Southern packet, and in her dim lonely cabin sat silent anddespondent, while she fought her way through swaying curtains of rainto the open sea. Its great complaining came up through the darkness tohim, and seemed to be the very voice of the miserable circumstances,that had separated and estranged his life from all he loved and desired.
This sudden destruction of all her hopes for her brother distressedArenta. Her own marriage had been a most unfortunate one, but itsmisfortunes had the importance of national tragedy. She had evenplucked honour to herself from the bloody tumbril and guillotine. ButRem's matrimonial failure had not one redeeming quality; it wasaltogether a shameful and well-deserved retribution. And she hadboasted to her friends not a little of the great marriage her brotherwas soon to make, and even spoken of Miss Damer, as if a sisterlyaffection already existed between them. She could anticipate very wellthe smiles and shrugs, the exclamations and condolences she might haveto encounter, and she was not pleased with her brother for putting herin a position likely to make her disagreeable to people.
But the heart of her anger was Cornelia--"but for that girl," Remwould have married Mary Damer, and his home in Boston might have beenfull of opportunities for her, as well as a desirable change when shewearied of New York. Altogether it was a hard thing for her, as well asa dreadful sorrow for Rem; and she could not think of Cornelia withoutanger, "Just for her," she kept saying as she dressed herself with anelaborate simplicity, "Just for her! Very much she intruded herselfinto my affairs; my marriage was her opportunity with Lord Hyde, andnow all she can do is to break up poor Rem's marriage."
When Cornelia entered the Van Ariens parlour Arenta was already there.She was dressed in a gown of the blackest and softest bombazine andcrape. It had a distinguishing want of all ornament, but it was forthat reason singularly effective against her delicate complexion andpale golden hair. She looked offended, and hardly spoke to her oldfriend, but Cornelia was prepared for some exhibition of anger. She hadnot been to see Arenta for a whole week, and she did not doubt she hadbeen well aware of something unusual in progress. But that Rem hadaccused himself did not occur to her; therefore she was hardly preparedfor the passionate accusations with which Arenta assailed her.
"I think," she said, "you have behaved disgracefully to poor Rem! Youwould not have him yourself, and yet you prevent another girl--whom heloves far better than ever he loved you--from marrying him. He has goneaway 'out of the world,' he says, and indeed I should not wonder if hekills himself. It is most certain you have done all you can to drivehim to it."
"Arenta! I have no idea what you mean. I have not seen Rem, nor writtento Rem, for more than two years."
"Very likely, but you have written about him. You wrote to Miss Darner,and told her Rem purposely kept a letter, which you had sent to LordHyde."
"I did not write to Miss Damer. I do not know the lady. But Rem DIDkeep a letter that belonged to Lord Hyde."
Then anger gave falsehood the bit and she answered, "Rem did NOT keepany letter that belonged to Lord Hyde. Prove that he did so, before youaccuse him. You cannot."
"I unfortunately directed Lord Hyde's letter to Rem, and Rem's letterto Lord Hyde. Rem knew that he had Lord Hyde's letter, and he shouldhave taken it at once to him."
"Lord Hyde had Rem's letter; he ought to have taken it at once to Rem."
"There was not a word in Rem's letter to identify it as belonging tohim."
"Then you ought to be ashamed to write love letters that would do forany man that received them. A poor hand you must be, to blunder overtwo love letters. I have had eight, and ten, at once to answer, and Inever failed to distinguish each; and while rivers run into the sea Inever shall misdirect my love letters. I do not believe Rem ever gotyour letter, and I will not believe it, either now or ever. I dare bebound, Balthazar lost it on the way. Prove to me he did not."
"Oh, indeed! I think you know better."
"Very clever is Lord Hyde to excuse himself by throwing the blame onpoor Rein. Very mean indeed to accuse him to the girl he was going tomarry. To be sure, any one with an ounce of common sense to guide them,must see through the whole affair."
"Arenta, I have the most firm conviction of Rem's guilt, and thegreatest concern for his disappointment. I assure you I have."
"Kindly reserve your concern, Miss Moran, till Rem Van Ariens asks forit. As for his guilt, there is no guilt in question. Even supposingthat Rem did keep Lord Hyde's letter, what then? All things are fair inlove and war, Willie Nicholls told me last night, he would keep ahundred letters, if he thought he could win me by doing so. Any man ofsense would."
"All I blame Rem for is--"
"All I blame Rem for is, that he asked you to marry him. So much forthat! I hope if he meddles with women again, he will seek an all-roundcommon-sense Dutch girl, who will know how to direct her letters--orelse be content with one lover."
"Arenta, I shall go now. I have given you an opportunity to be rude andunkind. You cannot expect me to do that again."
She watched Cornelia across the street, and then turned to the mirror,and wound her ringlets over her fingers. "I don't care," she muttered."It was her fault to begin with. She tempted Rem, and he fell. Menalways fall when women tempt them; it is their nature to. I am going tostand by Rem, right or wrong, and I only wish I could tell Mary Damerwhat I think of her. She has another lover, of course she has--or shewould not have talked about her 'honour' to Rem."
To such thoughts she was raging, when Peter Van Ariens came home todinner, and she could not restrain them. He listened for a minute ortwo, and then struck the table no gentle blow?
"In my house, Arenta," he said, "I will have no such words. What youthink, you think; but such thoughts must be shut close in your mind. Inkeeping that letter, I say Rem behaved like a scoundrel; he was cruel,and he was a coward. Because he is my son I will not excuse him. Noindeed! For that very reason, the more angry am I at such a deed. Nowthen, he shall acknowledge to George Hyde and Cornelia Moran the wronghe did them, ere in my home and my heart, he rights himself."
"Is Cornelia going to be married?"
"That is what I hear."
"To Lord Hyde?"
"That also, is what I hear."
"Well, as I am in
mourning, I cannot go to the wedding; so then I amdelighted to have told her a little of my mind."
"It is a great marriage for the Doctor's daughter; a countess she willbe."
"And a marquise I am. And will you please say, if either countess ormarquise is better than mistress or madame? Thank all the powers thatbe! I have learned the value of a title, and I shall change marquisefor mistress, as soon as I can do so."
"If always you had thought thus, a great deal of sorrow we had bothbeen spared."
"Well, then, a girl cannot get her share of wisdom, till she comes toit. After all, I am now sorry I have quarrelled with Cornelia. In NewYork and Philadelphia she will be a great woman."
"To take offence is a great folly, and to give offence is a greatfolly--I know not which is the greater, Arenta."
"Oh, indeed, father," she answered, "if I am hurt and angry, I shalltake the liberty to say so. Anger that is hidden cannot be gratified;and if people use me badly, it is my way to tell them I am aware of it.One may be obliged to eat brown bread, but I, for one, will say it isbrown bread, and not white."
"Your own way you will take, until into some great trouble you stumble."
"And then my own way I shall take, until out of it I stumble."
"I have told Rem what he must do. Like a man he must say, 'I did wrong,and I am sorry for it,' and so well I think of those he has wronged, asto be sure they will answer, 'It is forgiven.'"
"And forgotten."
"That is different. To forgive freely, is what we owe to our enemy; toforget not, is what we owe to ourselves."
"But if Rem's fault is forgiven, and not forgotten, what good will itdo him? I have seen that every one forgives much in themselves thatthey find unpardonable in other people."
"In so far, Arenta, we are all at fault."
"I think it is cruel, father, to ask Rem to speak truth to his owninjury. Even the law is kinder than you, it asks no man to accusehimself."
"Right wrongs no man. Till others move in this matter, you be quiet. Ifyou talk, evil words you will say; and mind this, Arenta, the evil thatcomes out of your lips, into your own bosom will fall. All my life Ihave seen this."
But Arenta could not be quiet. She would sow thorns, though she had towalk unshod; and her father's advice moved her no more than a breathmoves a mountain. In the same afternoon she saw Madame Jacobus going toDoctor Moran's, and the hour she remained there, was full of misery toher impetuous self-adoring heart. She was sure they were talking of Remand herself; and as she had all their conversation to imagine, she cameto conclusions in accord with her suspicions.
But she met her aunt at the door and brought her eagerly into theparlour. She had had no visitors that day, and was bored and restlessand longing for conversation. "I saw you go to the Doctor's an hourago, aunt," she said. "I hope the Captain is well."
"Jacobus is quite well, thank God and Doctor Moran--and Cornelia. Ihave been looking at some of her wedding gowns. A girl so happy, andwho deserves to be so happy, I never saw. What a darling she is!"
"It is now the fashion to rave about her. I suppose they found timeenough to abuse poor Rem. And you could listen to them! I would nothave done so! No! not if listening had meant salvation for the wholeMoran family."
"You are a remarkably foolish young woman. They never named Rem. Peopleso happy, do not remember the bringer of sorrow. He has been shutout--in the darkness and cold. But I heard from Madame Van Heemskirkwhy Cornelia and that delightful young man were not married two yearsago. I am ashamed of Rem. I can never forgive him. He is a disgrace tothe family. And that is why I came here to-day. I wish you to make Remunderstand that he must not come near his Uncle Jacobus. When Jacobusis angry, he will call heaven and earth and hell to help him speak hismind, and I have nearly cured him of a habit which is so distressing tome, and such a great wrong to his own soul. The very sight of Rem wouldbreak every barrier down, and let a flood of words loose, that wouldmake him suffer afterwards. I will not have Jacobus led into suchtemptation. I have not heard an oath from him for six months."
"I suppose you would never forgive Jacobus, if you did hear one?"
"That is another matter. I hope I have a heart to forgive whateverJacobus does, or says--he is my husband."
"It is then less wicked to blaspheme Almighty God, than to keep one ofLord Hyde's love letters. One fault may be forgiven, the other isunpardonable. Dear me! how religiously ignorant I am. As for my uncleswearing--and the passions that thus express themselves--everybodyknows that anything that distantly resembles good temper, will suitCaptain Jacobus."
"You look extremely handsome when you are scornful, Arenta; but it isnot worthwhile wasting your charms on me. I am doing what I can to helpJacobus to keep his tongue clean, and I will not have Rem lead him intotemptation. As for Rem, he is guilty of a great wrong; and he must nowdo what his father told him to do--work day and night, as men work,when a bridge is broken down. The ruin must be got out of the way, andthe bridge rebuilt, then it will be possible to open some pleasant andprofitable traffic with human beings again--not to speak of heaven."
"You are right--not to speak of heaven, I think heaven would be morecharitable. Rem will not trouble Captain Jacobus. For my part I think aman that cannot bear temptation is very poorly reformed. If my unclecould see Rem, and yet keep his big and little oaths under bonds, Ishould believe in his clean tongue."
"Arenta, you are tormenting yourself with anger and ill-will, and aboveall with jealousy. In this way you are going to miss a deal ofpleasure. I advise you not to quarrel with Cornelia. She will be agreat resource. I myself am looking forward to the delightful changeJacobus may have at Hyde Manor. It will make a new life for him, andalso for me. This afternoon something is vexing you. I shall take nooffence. You will regret your bad temper to-morrow."
To-morrow Arenta did regret; but people do not always say they aresorry, when they feel so. She sat in the shadow of her window curtainsand watched the almost constant stream of visitors, and messengers, andtradespeople at Doctor Moran's house; and she longed to have her handsamong the lovely things, and to give her opinion about the delightfulevents sure to make the next few weeks full of interest and pleasure.And after she had received a letter from Rem, she resolved to humbleherself that she might be exalted.
"Rem is already fortunate, and I can't help him by fighting his battle.Forgetfulness, is the word. For this wrong can have no victory, and tobe forgotten, is the only hope for it. Beside, Cornelia had her fullshare in my happiness, and I will not let myself be defrauded of myshare in her happiness--not for a few words--no! certainly not."
This reflection a few times reiterated resulted in the following note--
MY DEAR CORNELIA:
I want to say so much, that I cannot say anything but--forgive me. I amshaken to pieces by my dreadful sufferings, and sometimes, I do notknow what I say, even to those I love. Blame my sad fortune for my badwords, and tell me you long to forgive me, as I long to be forgiven.
Your ARENTA.
"That will be sufficient," she reflected; "and after all, Cornelia is asweet girl. I am her first and dearest friend, and I am determined tokeep my place. It has made me very angry to see those Van Dien girls,and those Sherman girls, running in and out of the Moran house as ifthey owned Cornelia. Well then, if I have had to eat humble pie, I havehad my say, and that takes the bitter taste out of my mouth--and asensible woman must look to her future. I dare warrant, Cornelia is nowanswering my letter. I dare warrant, she will forgive me very sweetly."
She spent half-an-hour in such reflections, and then Cornelia enteredwith a smiling face. She would not permit Arenta to say another word ofregret; she stifled all her self-reproaches in an embrace, and she tookher back with her to her own home. And no further repentanceembarrassed Arenta. She put her ready wit, and her clever hands to ascore of belated things; and snubbed and contradicted the Van Dien andSherman girls into a respectful obedience to her earlier friendship,and wider experience. Everything that she directed,
or took charge of,went with an unmistakable vigour to completion; and even Madame VanHeemskirk was delighted with her ability, and grateful for herassistance.
"The poor Arenta!" she said to Mrs. Moran; "very helpful she is to us,and for her brother's fault she is not to blame. Wrong it would be tovisit it on her."
And Arenta not only felt this gracious justice for herself, she lookedmuch further forward, for she said to her father, "It is really forRem's sake I am so obliging. By and by people will say 'there is notruth in that letter story. The Marquise is the friend of Lady Hyde;they are like clasped hands, and that could not be so, if Rem VanAriens had done such a dreadful thing. It is all nonsense.' And if Ihear a word about it, I shall know how to smile, and lift my shoulders,and kill suspicion with contempt. Yes, for Rem's sake, I have done thebest thing."
So happily the time went on, that it appeared wonderful when Christmaswas close at hand. Every preparation was then complete. The Manor Housewas a very picture of splendid comfort and day by day Cornelia'sexquisite wardrobe came nearer to perfection. It was a very joy to gointo the Moran house. The mother, with a happy light upon her face,went to-and-fro with that habitual sweet serenity, which kept thetemperature of expectant pleasure at a degree not too exhausting forcontinuance. The doctor was so satisfied with affairs, that he wasoften heard timing his firm, strong steps to snatches of long forgottenmilitary songs; and Cornelia, knowing her lover was every day comingnearer and nearer, was just as happy as a girl loving and well beloved,ought to be. Sorrow was all behind her, and a great joy was coming tomeet her. Until mortal love should become immortal, she could hope forno sweeter interlude in life.
Her beauty had increased wonderfully; hope had more than renewed heryouth, and confident love had given to her face and form, a splendourof colour and expression, that captivated everybody; though why, orhow, they never asked--she charmed, because she charmed. She was thelove, the honey, the milk of sweetest human nature.
One day the little bevy of feminine councillors looked at their work,and pronounced all beautiful, and all finished; and then there was alull in the busy household, and then every one was conscious of being alittle weary; and every one also felt, that it would be well to letheart, and brain, and fingers, and feet rest. In a few days there wouldlikely be another English letter, and they could then form some idea asto when Lord Hyde would arrive. The last letter received from him hadbeen written in London, and the ship in which he was to sail, wastaking on her cargo, while he impatiently waited at his hotel fornotice of her being ready to lift her anchor. The doctor thought ithighly probable Hyde would follow this letter in a week, or perhapsless.
During this restful interval, Doctor and Mrs. Moran drove out oneafternoon to Hyde Manor House. A message from Madame Van Heemskirkasked this favour from them; she wished naturally that they should seehow exquisitely beautiful and comfortable was the home, which her Jorishad trusted her to prepare for his bride. But she did not wish Corneliato see it, until the bride-groom himself took her across its threshold."An old woman's fancy it is," she said to Mrs. Moran; "but no harm isthere in it, and not much do I like women who bustle about theirhouses, and have no fancies at all."
"Nor I," answered Mrs. Moran with a merry little laugh. "Do you know,that I told John to buy my wedding ring too wide, because I often heardmy mother say that a tight wedding ring was unlucky." Then both womensmiled, and began delightedly to look over together the stores of finelinen and damask, which the mother of Joris had laid up for her son'suse.
It was a charming visit, and the sweet pause in the vivid life of thepast few weeks, was equally charming to Cornelia. She rested in herroom till the short daylight ended; then she went to the parlour anddrank a cup of tea, and closed the curtains, and sat down by the hearthto wait for her father and mother. It was likely they would be a littlelate, but the moon was full and the sleighing perfect, and then she wassure they would have so much to tell her, when they did reach home.
So still was the house, so still was the little street, that she easilywent to the land of reverie, and lost herself there. She thought overagain all her life with her lover; recalled his sweet spirit, his loyalaffection, his handsome face, and enchanting manner. "Heaven has mademe so fortunate," she thought, "and now my fortune has arrived at mywishes. Even his delay is sweet. I desire to think of him, until allother thoughts are forgotten! Oh, what lover could be loved as I lovehim!"
Then with a soft but quick movement the door flew open, she lifted hereyes, to fill them with love's very image and vesture; and with a cryof joy flew to meet the bliss so long afar, but now so near. "O lovelyand beloved! O my love!" Hyde cried, and then there was a twofoldsilence; the very ecstasy that no mortal words can utter. The sacredhour for which all their lives had longed, was at last dropt down tothem from heaven. Between their kisses they spoke of things remembered,and of things to be, leaning to each other in visible sweetness, while
"Love breathed in sighs and silences Through two blent souls, one rapturous undersong."
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