CHAPTER VIII.
"Slight are the outward signs of evil thought: Within, within--'twas there the spirit wrought. Love shows all changes: hate, ambition, guile, Betray no further than the bitter smile."
BYRON.
Our readers must imagine that nearly a year and a half has elapsedsince the conclusion of our last chapter. During that interval theoutward life of Marie had passed in a calm, even stream; which, couldshe have succeeded in entirely banishing thoughts of the past, wouldhave been unalloyed enjoyment. Her marriage, as we hinted in ourfourth chapter, had been solemnized in public, with all the form andceremony of the Catholic Church, and with a splendor incumbent on thehigh rank and immense wealth of the bridegroom. In compliance withMarie's wishes, however, she had not yet been presented to theQueen; delicate health (which was the fact, for a terrible feverhad succeeded the varied emotions of her wedding day) and herlate bereavement, was her husband's excuse to Isabella for hernon-appearance--an excuse graciously accepted; the rather that theQueen of Castile was then much engrossed with political changes andnational reforms, than from any failing of interest in Don Ferdinand'sbride.
Changed as was her estate, from her lovely home in the Vale of Cedars,where she had dwelt as the sole companion of an ailing parent, to themistress of a large establishment in one of the most populous citiesof Castile; the idolized wife of the Governor of the town--and, assuch, the object of popular love and veneration, and called upon,frequently, to exert influence and authority--still Marie did not failperforming every new duty with a grace and sweetness binding her moreand more closely to the doting heart of her husband. For her inwardself, Marie was calm--nay, at intervals, almost happy. She had neitherprayed nor struggled in vain, and she felt as if her very prayer wasanswered in the fact that Arthur Stanley had been appointed to somehigh and honorable post in Sicily, and they were not therefore likelyyet to meet again. The wife of such a character as Morales could nothave continued wretched unless perversely resolved so to be. But hisvery virtues, while they inspired the deepest reverence towards him,engendered some degree of fear. Could she really have loved him as--hebelieved she did--this feeling would not have had existence; but itsfoundation was the constant thought that she was deceiving him--theremorse, that his fond confidence was so utterly misplaced--theconsciousness, that there was still something to conceal, which, ifdiscovered, must blight his happiness for ever, and estrange him fromher, were it only for the past deceit. Had his character been lesslofty--his confidence in her less perfect--his very love less fondand trusting--she could have borne her trial better; but to one true,ingenuous, open as herself, what could be more terrible than theunceasing thought that she was acting a part--and to her husband?Often and often she longed, with an almost irresistible impulse, tofling herself at his feet, and beseech him not to pierce her heartwith such fond trust; but the impulse was forcibly controlled. Whatwould such confession avail her now?--or him, save to wound?
Amongst the many Spaniards of noble birth who visited Don Ferdinand's,was one Don Luis Garcia, whose actual rank and office no one seemed toknow; and yet, in affairs of church or state, camp or council, he wasalways so associated, that it was impossible to discover to which ofthese he was allied; in fact, there was a mystery around him, which noone could solve. Notwithstanding his easy--nay, it was by some thoughtfascinating manners, his presence generally created a restraint, feltintuitively by all, yet comprehended by none. That there is such, anemotion as antipathy mercifully placed within us, often as a warning,we do most strenuously believe; but we seldom trace and recognize itas such, till circumstances reveal its truth.
The real character of Don Luis, and the office he held, our futurepages will disclose; suffice it here to state, that there was nolack of personal attractions or mental graces, to account for theuniversal, yet unspoken and unacknowledged dislike which he inspired.Apparently in the prime of life, he yet seemed to have relinquishedall the pleasures and even the passions of life. Austere, even rigid,in those acts of piety and personal mortifications enjoined by hisreligion--voluntary fasts, privations, nights supposed to be past invigil and in penance; occasional rich gifts to patron saints, andtheir human followers; an absence of all worldly feeling, evenambition; some extraordinary deeds of benevolence--all rendered him anobject of actual veneration to the priests and monks with which thegoodly city of Segovia abounded; and even the populace declared himfaultless, as a catholic and a man, even while their inward shudderingbelied the words.
Don Ferdinand Morales alone was untroubled with these contradictoryemotions. Incapable of hypocrisy himself, he could not imagine itin others: his nature seemed actually too frank and true for theadmission even of a prejudice. Little did he dream that his name,his wealth, his very favor with the Queen, his influence with hersubjects, had already stamped him, in the breast of the man to whomhis house and heart alike were open, as an object of suspicion andespial; and that ere a year had passed over his wedded life, thesefeelings were ripened, cherished--changed from the mere thought ofpersecution, to palpable resolve, by personal and ungovernable hate.
Don Luis had never known love; not even the fleeting fancy, much lessthe actual passion, of the sensualist, or the spiritual aspirings oftrue affection. Of the last, in fact, he was utterly incapable.No feeling, with him, was of an evanescent nature: under the coldausterity of the ordinary man, lay coals of living fire. It matterednot under what guise excited--hate, revenge, ambition, he was capableof all. At love, alone, he had ever laughed--exulting in his ownsecurity.
The internal condition of Spain, as we have before said, had been,until the accession of Isabella and Ferdinand, one of the grossestlicense and most fearful immorality. Encouraged in the indulgence ofevery passion, by the example of the Court, no dictates of eitherreligion or morality ever interfered to protect the sanctity of home;unbridled desires were often the sole cause of murderous assaults; andthese fearful crimes continually passing unpunished, encouraged thesupposition that men's passions were given to be their sole guide,before which, honor, innocence, and virtue fell powerless.
The vigorous proceedings of Ferdinand and Isabella had alreadyremedied these terrible abuses. Over the public safety and reform theyhad some power; but over the hearts of individuals they had none; andthere were still some with whom past license was far more influencingthan present restraint and legal severity; still some who paused atno crime so that the gratification of their passions was ensured; andforemost amongst these, though by his secret office pledged to theannihilation of all domestic and social ties, as regarded his ownperson, was Don Luis Garcia.
For rather more than a year, Don Ferdinand Morales had enjoyed thesociety of his young wife uninterruptedly, save by occasional visits,of brief duration, to Valladolid and Leon, where Isabella alternatelyheld her court. He was now, however, summoned to attend thesovereigns, on a visit to Ferdinand's paternal dominions, an officewhich would cause his absence for a much longer interval. He obeyedwith extreme reluctance--nor did Marie feel the separation less. Therewas, in some measure, a feeling of security in his presence, which,whenever he was absent, gave place to fearful tremblings as to whatmight transpire to shake her faith in her, ere he returned.
Resolved that not the very faintest breath of scandal should touch_his_ wife, Marie, during the absence of Morales, always kept herselfsecluded. This time her retirement was stricter than ever; and great,then, was her indignation and astonishment, when about a fortnightbefore her husband's expected return, and in direct contradictionto her commands, Don Luis Garcia was admitted to her presence; andnothing but actual flight, for which she was far too proud andself-possessed, could have averted the private interview whichfollowed. The actual words which passed we know not, but, after a verybrief interval of careless converse on the part of Garcia--somethinghe said earnestly, and in the tones of pitying sympathy, which causedthe cheek and lips of Marie to blanch to marble, and her whole frameto shiver, and then grow rigid, as if turned to stone. Could it bethat the fata
l secret, which she believed was known only to herselfand Arthur, that she had loved another ere she wedded Ferdinand, hadbeen penetrated by the man towards whom she had ever felt the mostintense abhorrence? and that he dared refer to it as a source ofsympathy--as a proof that he could feel for her more than herunsuspecting husband? Why was speech so frozen up within her, that shecould not, for the moment, answer, and give him back the lie? But thatsilence of deadly terror lasted not long: he had continued to speak;at first she was unconscious of his change of tone, words, and evenaction; but when his actual meaning flashed upon her, voice, strength,energy returned in such a burst of womanly indignation, womanlymajesty, that Garcia himself, skilled in every art of evil as he was,quailed beneath it, and felt that he was powerless, save by violenceand revenge.
While that terrible interview lasted, the wife of Morales had notfailed; but when once more alone, the most deadly terror tookpossession of her. She had, indeed, so triumphed as to banish Garcia,defeated, from her presence; but fearful threats of vengeance were inthat interview divulged--allusions to some secret power, over whichhe was the head, armed with authority even greater than that ofthe sovereign's--mysteriously spoken, but still almost strangelyintelligible, that in her betrayal or her silence lay the safety orthe danger of her husband--all compelled the conviction that herterror and her indignation at the daring insult must be buried deep inher own breast; even while the supposition that Don Luis knew all thepast (though how, her wildest imagination could not discover), andthat therefore she was in his power, urged her yet more to a fullconfession to her husband. Better if his heart must be wrung by her,than by a foe; and yet she shrunk in anguish from the task.
She was, however, deceived as to the amount of Garcia's knowledge ofher past life. Accustomed to read human nature under all its variedphases--employing an unusually acute penetration so to know hisfellows as to enable him, when needed, to create the greatest amountof misery--he had simply perceived that Marie's love for her husbandwas of a different nature to his for her, and that she had some secretto conceal. On this he had based his words: his suspicions were,unhappily, confirmed by the still, yet expressive agony they hadoccasioned. Baffled, as in some measure he had been, his internal ragethat he should have so quailed before a woman, naturally increased thewhirlwind of contending passions: but schooled by his impenetrablesystem of hypocrisy to outward quietness and control, he waited,certain that circumstances would either of themselves occur, or be soguided by him as to give him ample means of triumph and revenge.
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