XX.
THE DREGS IN THE CUP.
"O eloquent, just and mightie death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised: thou hast drawn together all the farre stretched greatnesses; all the pride, crueltie and ambition of man and covered it all over with these two narrow words, _Hic jacet_."
--SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
Bertram's hurried ring at his uncle's door was answered by Samuel thebutler.
"What is this I hear?" cried the young man, entering with considerableagitation, "Mrs. Sylvester dead?"
"Yes sir," returned the old and trusty servant, with something like asob in his voice. "She went out riding this morning behind a pair ofborrowed horses--and being unused to Michael's way of driving, they ranaway and she was thrown from the carriage and instantly killed."
"And Miss Fairchild?"
"She didn't go with her. Mrs. Sylvester was alone."
"Horrible, horrible! Where is my uncle, can I see him?"
"I don't know, sir," the man returned with a strange look of anxiety."Mr. Sylvester is feeling very bad, sir. He has shut himself up in hisroom and none of his servants dare disturb him, sir."
"I should, however, like him to know I am here. In what room shall Ifind him?"
"In the little one, sir, at the top of the house. It has a curious lockon the door; you will know it by that."
"Very well. Please be in the hall when I come down; I may want to giveyou some orders."
The old servant bowed and Bertram hastened with hushed steps to ascendthe stairs. At the first platform he paused. What is there in a house ofdeath, of sudden death especially, that draws a veil of spectralunreality over each familiar object! Behind that door now inexorablyclosed before him, lay without doubt the shrouded form of her who but afew short hours before, had dazzled the eyes of men and made envious thehearts of women with her imposing beauty! No such quiet then reignedover the spot filled by her presence. As the vision of a dream returns,he saw her again in all her splendor. Never a brow in all the great hallshone more brightly beneath its sparkling diamonds; never a lip in thewhole vast throng curled with more self-complacent pride, or melted intoa more alluring smile, than that of her who now lay here, a marble imagebeneath the eye of day. It was as if a flowery field had split beneaththe dancing foot of some laughing siren. One moment your gaze is uponthe swaying voluptuous form, the half-shut beguiling eye, the whiteout-reaching arms upon whose satin surface a thousand loves seemperching; the next you stare horror-stricken upon the closing jaws of anawful pit, with the flash of something bright in your eyes, and thesense of a hideous noiseless rush in which earth and heaven appear tojoin, sink and be swallowed! Bertram felt his heart grow sick. Movingon, he passed the bronze image of Luxury lying half asleep on its bed ofcrumpled roses. Hideous mockery! What has luxury to do with death? Shewho was luxury itself has vanished from these halls. Shall the mutebronze go on smiling over its wine cup while she who was its prototypeis carried by without a smile on the lips once so vermeil with pride andtropical languors!
Arrived at the top of the house, Bertram knocked at the door with thestrange lock, and uttering his own name, asked if there was anything hecould do here or elsewhere to show his sympathy and desire to be of usein this great and sudden bereavement. There was no immediate reply andhe began to fear he would be obliged to retire without seeing his uncle,when the door was slowly opened and Mr. Sylvester came out. InstantlyBertram understood the anxiety of the servant. Not only did Mr.Sylvester's countenance exhibit the usual traces of grief and horrorincident to a sudden and awful calamity, but there were visible upon itthe tokens of another and still more unfathomable emotion, a wild andparalyzed look that altered the very contour of his features, and madehis face almost like that of a stranger.
"Uncle, what is it?" sprang involuntarily to his lips. But Mr. Sylvesterbetraying by a sudden backward movement an instinctive desire to escapescrutiny, he bethought himself, and with hasty utterance offered somewords of consolation that sounded strangely hollow and superficial inthat dim and silent corridor. "Is there nothing I can do for you?" hefinally asked.
"Everything is being done," exclaimed his uncle in a strained andaltered voice; "Robert is here." And a silence fell over the hall, thatBertram dared not break.
"I have help for everything but--" He did not say what, it seemed as ifsomething rose up in his throat that choked him.
"Bertram," said he at last in a more natural tone, "come with me."
He led him into an adjoining room and shut the door. It was a room fromwhich the sunshine had not been excluded and it seemed as if they couldboth breathe more easily.
"Sit down," said his uncle, pointing to a chair. The young man did so,but Mr. Sylvester remained standing. Then without preamble, "Have youseen her?"
There was no grief in the question, only a quiet respect. Death clothesthe most volatile with a garment of awe. Bertram slowly shook his head."No," said he, "I came at once up stairs."
"There is no mark on her white body, save the least little discoloreddent here," continued his uncle, pointing calmly to his temple. "She hadone moment of fear while the horses ran, and then--" He gave a quickshudder and advancing towards Bertram, laid his hand on his nephew'sshoulder in such a way as to prevent him from turning his head."Bertram," said he, "I have no son. If I were to call upon you toperform a son's work for me; to obey and ask no questions, would youcomply?"
"Can you ask?" sprang from the young man's lips; "you know that you haveonly to command for me to be proud to obey. Anything you can requirewill find me ready."
The hand on his shoulder weighed heavier. "It seems a strange time totalk about business, Bertram, but necessity knows no law. There is amatter in which you can afford me great assistance if you will undertaketo do immediately what I ask."
"Can you doubt--"
"Hush, it is this. On this paper you will find a name; below it a numberof addresses. They are all of places down town and some of them not veryreputable I fear. What I desire is for you to seek out the man whosename you here see, going to these very places after him, beginning withthe first, and continuing down the list until you find him. When youcome upon him, he will ask you for a card. Give him one on which youwill scrawl before his eyes, a circle, so. It is a token which he shouldinstantly understand. If he does, address him with freedom and tell himthat your employer--you need make use of no names--re-demands the papersmade over to him this morning. If he manifests surprise or is seen tohesitate, tell him your orders are imperative. If he declares ruin willfollow, inform him that you are not to be frightened by words; that youremployer is as fully aware of the position of affairs as he. Whatever hesays, bring the papers."
Bertram nodded his head and endeavored to rise, but his uncle's handrested upon him too heavily.
"He is a small man; you need have no dread of him physically. The sooneryou find him and acquit yourself of your task, the better I shall bepleased." And then the hand lifted.
On his way down stairs Bertram encountered Paula. She was standing inthe hall and accosted him with a very trembling tone in her voice. Allher questions were in regard to Mr. Sylvester.
"Have you seen him?" she asked. "Does he speak--say anything? No one hasheard him utter a word since he came in from down town and saw her lyingthere."
"Yes, certainly; he spoke to me; he has been giving me some commissionsto perform. I am on my way now to attend to them."
She drew a deep breath. "O!" she cried, "would that he had a son, adaughter, a child, some one!"
This exclamation following what had taken place above struck Bertramforcibly. "He has a son in me, Paula. Love as well as duty binds me tohim. All that a child could do will I perform with pleasure. You cantrust me for that."
She threw him a glance of searching inquiry. "His need is greater thanit seems," whispered she. "He was deeply troub
led before this terribleaccident occurred. I am afraid the arrow is poisoned that has made thisdreadful wound. I cannot explain myself," she went on hurriedly, "but ifyou indeed regard him as a father, be ready with any comfort, any help,that affection can bestow, or his necessities require. Let me feel thathe has near him some stay that will not yield to pressure."
There was so much passion in this appeal that Bertram involuntarilybowed his head. "He has two friends," said he, "and here is my hand thatI will never forsake him."
"I do not need to offer mine," she returned, "He is great and goodenough to do without my assistance." But nevertheless she gave her handto Bertram and with a glow of her lip and eye that made her beauty,supreme at all times, something almost supernatural in its character.
"I dared not tell him," she whispered to herself as the front doorclosed with the dull slow thud proper to a house of mourning. "I darenot tell any one, but--"
What lay beyond that but?
When Mr. Sylvester came in at six o'clock in the morning, Paula hadrisen from the bed on which she had been sitting, but not to makepreparation for rest, for she could not rest. The vague shadow of somesurrounding evil or threatened catastrophe was upon her, and though sheforced herself to change her dress for a warmer and more suitable one,she did not otherwise break her vigil, though the necessity for itseemed to be at an end. It was a midwinter morning and the sun had notyet risen, so being chilly as well as restless, she began to pace thefloor, stopping now and then to glance out of the window, in the hopesof detecting some signs of awakening day in the blank and solemn east.Suddenly as she was thus consulting the horizon, a light flashed up frombelow, and looking down upon the face of the extension that ran along atright angles to her window, she perceived that the shades were up inMrs. Sylvester's boudoir. They had doubtless been left so the eveningbefore, and Mr. Sylvester upon turning up the gas had failed to observethe fact. Instantly she felt her heart stand still, for the house beingwide and the extension narrow, all that went on in that boudoir, or atleast in that portion of it which Mr. Sylvester at present occupied, waseasily observable from the window at which she stood; and that somethingwas going on of a serious and important nature, was sufficiently evidentfrom the expression of Mr. Sylvester's countenance. He was standing withhis face bent towards some one seated out of sight, his wifeundoubtedly, though what could have called her from her dreams--and wasbusily engaged in talking. The subject whatever it was, absorbed himcompletely. If Paula had allowed herself the thought, she would havedescribed him as pleading and that with no ordinary vehemence. Butsuddenly while she gazed half fascinated and but little realizing whatshe was doing, he started back and a fierce change swept over his face,a certain incredulity, that presently gave way to a glance of horror andrepugnance, which the quick action of his out-thrown palm sufficientlyemphasized. He was pushing something from him, but what? A suggestion ora remembrance? It was impossible to determine.
The countenance of Mrs. Sylvester who that moment appeared in sightsailing across the floor in her azure wrapper, offered but littleassistance in the way of explanation. Immovable under mostcircumstances, it was simply at this juncture a trifle more calm andcold than usual, presenting to Paula's mind the thought of a white andicy barrier, against which the most glowing of arrows must fall chilledand powerless.
"O for a woman's soul to inform that breast if but for a moment!" criedPaula, lost in the passion of this scene, while so little understandingits import. When as if in mockery to this invocation, the haughty formupon which she was gazing started rigidly erect, while the lip acquireda scorn and the eye a menace that betrayed the serpent ever in hidingunder this white rose.
Paula could look no longer. This last revelation had awakened her to thefact that she was gazing upon a scene sacred to the husband and wifeengaged in it. With a sense of shame she rushed to the bed and threwherself upon it, but the vision of what she had beheld would not leaveher so easily. Like letters of fire upon a black ground, the panorama oflooks and gestures to which she had just been witness, floated beforeher mind's eye, awakening a train of thought so intense that she did notknow which was worse, to be there in the awful dawn dreaming over thisepisode of the night, or to rise and face again the reality. Thefascination which all forbidden sights insensibly exert over the mindsof the best of us, finally prevailed, and she slowly crept to the windowto catch a parting glimpse of Mr. Sylvester's tall form hurrying blindlyfrom the boudoir followed by his wife's cold glance. The next minute theexposed condition of the room seemed to catch that lady's attention, andwith an anxious look into the dull gray morn, Mrs. Sylvester drew downthe shades, and the episode was over.
Or so Paula thought; but when she was returning up stairs after hersolitary breakfast--Mrs. Sylvester was too tired and Mr. Sylvester toomuch engaged to eat, as the attentive Samuel informed her--the door ofOna's room swung ajar, and she distinctly heard her give utterance tothe following exclamation:
"What! give up this elegant home, my horses and carriage, the friends Ihave had such difficulty in obtaining, and the position which I was bornto adorn? I had rather die!" And Paula feeling as if she had receivedthe key to the enigma of the last night's unaccountable manifestations,was about to rush away to her own apartment, when the door swayed openagain and she heard his voice respond with hard and bitter emphasis,
"And it might be better that you should. But since you will probablylive, let it be according to your mind. I have not the courage--"
There the door swung to.
An hour from that Mr. Sylvester left the house with a small valise inhis hand, and Mrs. Sylvester dressed in her showiest costume, enteredher carriage for an early shopping excursion.
And so when Paula whispered to herself, "I did not dare to tell him; Idid not dare to tell any one, but--" she thought of those terriblewords, "Die? It might be better, perhaps, that you should!" and thenremembered the ghastly look of immeasurable horror with which a fewhours later, he staggered away from that awful burden, whose rigid lineswould never again melt into mocking curves, and to whom the morning'swide soaring hopes, high reaching ambitions and boundless luxuries werenow no more than the shadows of a vanished world; life, love, longing,with all their demands, having dwindled to a noisome rest between fourclose planks, with darkness for its present portion and beyond--what?
The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York Life Page 21