At the Mercy of Tiberius

by Augusta J. Evans

  CHAPTER XV.

  The Christmas Sabbath dawned cold and dim, and along the eastern skygray marbled masses of cloud with dun, stratified bases, builtthemselves into the likeness of vast teocallis to Tonatiuh, over whoseapex the struggling rays fell red and presageful. Dulled by the stainedglass windows, the light that filled the semi-circular chapel at "TheLilacs", was chill and sombre, until the fair sacristan held a taperover the tall wax candles on each side of the altar, whence a mellowradiance soon streamed over all; flashing along the golden lettersunder the cross, and upon the gilded pipes of the little organ. On themarble steps in front of the altar were two baskets filled with whitecamellias, and great spikes of pink and blue hyacinths, that seemed tobreak their hearts in waves of aromatic incense. The family Bible ofthe Gordons lay open, on the reading desk, and upon its yellow pagesrested a Maltese cross of snowy Roman hyacinths. Looping back thepurple velvet portiere over the arch leading into the library, Leo satdown on the organ bench to await the coming of the family, leisurelyarranged the stops, and marked in her prayer-book the Collect forChristmas. In her morning robe of crimson cashmere, with its cascade ofsoft rich lace foaming from throat to feet, and wearing a daintycluster of double white violets fastened just below one ear, where thewax light kissed her sunny hair, she appeared a St. Cecilia, very fairand sweet, to the eyes of the man who stood a moment unperceivedbeneath the arch. A figure of medium height, clad in priestly garments,with a white surplice sweeping to the marble floor; a finely modelledhead thickly fleeced with light brown hair, a serene pleasant face,with regular features, deep-set black eyes magnified by spectacles, andan expression of habitual placidity, that bespoke a soul consecrated bynoble aims, and at perfect peace with his God.

  Hearing his step as he crossed the floor, Leo looked over her shoulder,smiled, and began to play softly, while he ascended the steps and kneltbefore the altar. After some moments Miss Patty rustled in, sank on herknees and finally settled herself comfortably on one of thecrescent-shaped, cushioned sofas; then Judge Dent entered, followed byJustine and the aged negro butler, Joel, the two servants finding seatsjust behind their master. Doctor Leighton Douglass selected his hymns,and the leaves of five prayer-books fluttered, as Collects were found,but Leo continued to play.

  Twice she turned and looked around the chapel, seeking some one,delaying the commencement of the service. Finally accepting defeat, herpretty fingers fell from the keys, and with them dropped two tears,forced from her by the keen disappointment that robbed this occasion ofall its anticipated pleasure. Singularly free from fashionableelocutionary affectations, and certain declamatory stage tricks, bywhich the recitation of the Creed and the Lord's Prayer becomes acompetitive test of lungs in the race for breath, Leighton Douglassread the morning service, in a well-modulated voice, and with aprofound solemnity that left its impress on each heart. The responseswere fervent, and the Christmas hymns were sung with joyfulearnestness; then priestly arms rose like the wings of a great snowydove, and from holy, priestly lips fell the mellow music of thebenediction:

  "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and thefellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen."

  Even while he pronounced the words, a whirring rustle filled thebeautiful oratory, and two of Leo's pet ring-doves, fluttering roundand round the frescoed ceiling, descended swiftly. One perched upon herhead, cooing softly, and its mate nestled down with outspread pinions,pecking at the white muslin folds on Doctor Douglass' shoulder.

  "Paracletes, dun plumed! Leo, let us accept them as happy auguries,prophetic of divine blessing on our future work in the Master'svineyard. My cousin, I wish you a very happy Christmas."

  He had approached the organ where she sat, and held out his hand.

  "Happy Christmas, Leighton, and many thanks to you for thisconsecrating service in my place of prayer. After today, it will alwaysseem a more hallowed shrine, and before you leave us, we will gatherhere as a family, and join in the celebration of the Holy Communion."

  They stood a moment hand in hand, looking into each other's eyes; andwatching them, Miss Patty's heart swelled with pardonable pride in thetwo, whom her loving arms had so tenderly cradled. Pinching herbrother's hand, as she walked with him under the velvet draperies, shewhispered:

  "What a noble match for both! And he's only her second cousin."

  Leo's eyes were wet with tears, which Doctor Douglass ascribed todevotional fervor; and withdrawing her hand, she opened one of thewindows, and called the doves to the stone ledge, putting them verygently out upon the ivy wreaths that clambered up the wall, and peepedinto the chapel.

  "I believe you are sacristan here?" he said, pointing to the candlesthat flared, as the wind rushed in.

  "Yes, here I sweep, dust, decorate daily, allowing no other touch; andhere I bring my daintiest, rarest flowers, as tribute to Him whotapestried the earth with blossoms, and sprinkled it withperfumes--when? Not until just before the advent of humanity, whosematerial kingdom was perfected, and furnished in anticipation of hisarrival."

  Extinguishing the candles, she closed the old Bible, covered it with asquare of velvet, and hung the cross of hyacinths upon the folded handsof one of the marble angels that upheld the altar.

  "Pure-handed women are natural priestesses, meet for templeministration; and I have no doubt your exoteric labors here, merelytypify the secret daily sweeping out of evil thoughts, the dusting awayof motes of selfishness, the decorating with noble beautiful aims, andholy deeds, whereby you sanctify that inner shrine, your own soul."

  "Praise from you means so much, that you need not stoop to flatter me.The very vestments of you Levites should exhale infectious humility;and I especially need exhortations against pride, my besetting sin. Ibuilt this chapel, not because I am good, but in order to grow better.Every dwelling has its room in which the inmates gather to eat, tostudy, to work, to sleep; why not to pray, the most important privilegeof many that divide humanity from brutes? After all, the pagans werewiser than we, and the heads of families were household priests,setting examples of piety at every rising of the sun."

  "Let us see. Greek and Roman fathers laid a cake dripping with wine, awreath of violets, a heart of honey-comb, a brace of doves on the homealtar, and immediately thereafter, set the example of violating everyclause in the Decalogue. Mark you, paganism drew fine lines in morals,long anterior to the era of monotheism and of Moses, and furnishedimmortal types of all the virtues; yet the excess of its religiousceremonial, robbed it of vital fructifying energies. The frequency andpublicity of sacerdotal service, usurped the place of daily individualpiety. The tendency of all outward symbolical observances, undulymultiplied, is to substitute mere formalism for fervor."

  "Leighton, humanity craves the concrete. All the universe is God'stemple, yet the chill breath of the abstract freezes our hearts; and wepray best in some pillared niche consecrated and set apart, I recall aday in Umbria, when the wonderful light of sunset fell on ilex andolive, on mountain snows, on valleys billowing between vine-mantledhills, on creamy marble walls, on columned campaniles; and standingthere, I seemed verily to absorb, to become saturated as it were, withthe reigning essence of beauty. I walked on, a few steps, lifted aworn, frayed leather curtain, and looked into a small gray, dingychurch, where a mist of incense blurred the lights on the ancientaltar, and the muffled roll of an organ broke into sonorous waves, likereverberations of far-away thunder; and why was it, tell me, that theuniversal glory thrilled me only as a sensuous chord of color, but inthe dark corner consecrated to the worship of our God, my soulexpanded, as if a holy finger touched it, and I fell on my knees, andprayed? Each of us comes into this world dowered with the behest tomake desperate war against that indissoluble 'Triple Alliance, theWorld, the Flesh and the Devil,' and needing all the auxiliariespossible, I resort to conscription wherever I can recruit. Since I amtwo thousand years too young to set up a statue of Hestia yonder in myimitation prostas, I have built instead this small sacred nook forprayer, which
helps me spiritually, much as the Ulah aids Islam."

  "Your oratory is lovely, and I wish its counterpart adorned everyhomestead in our land; but are you quite sure that in your individualexperience you are not mistaking effect for cause? Your holy heartdemands fit shrine for--"

  "I am quite sure I will not allow you to stand a moment longer on thiscold floor; and I do not intend that you shall pay me undeservedcompliments. It is derogatory to your dignity, and dangerous to mymodicum of humility. As soon as you are ready for breakfast, come tothe dining-room, where Santa Klaus left his remembrances last night. O,Leighton! I had half a mind to hang up two stockings at uncle's bed,for the sake of dear old lang syne. If we could only shut our eyes, anddrift back to the magical time of aprons, short clothes, androundabouts, when a sugar rooster with green wings and pink head, and adoll that could open and shut her eyes, were considered more preciousthan Tiffany's jewels, or Collamore's Crown Derby! Can Delmonico offeryou a repast half as appetizing as the hominy, the tea cakes, the honeyand the sweet milk which you and I used to enjoy at our supper just atsunset, at our own little table set under the red mulberry trees in theback yard?"

  "Why should my cousin, whose present is so rose-colored, whose futureso blissful, turn to rake amid the ashes of the past?"

  "Because, like Lot's wife, we are all prone to stare backward. Wholives in the present? Do you? When we are young we pant for the future,that pitches painted tents before us. When we are older, we live in thepast, that wraps itself in a sacred gilding glamour, and is vocal withthe happy echoes which alone survive. Far-off fields before and behindus are so dewy, so vividly green; and the present is gray and stony,and barren of charm, and we turn fretfully. It is part of the grimtyranny of Time that it is tideless; that the stream bearsremorselessly on, and on, never back to the dear old spots; always on,to lose itself in the eternal and unknown. So, to-day's Christmas lacksthe zest of its predecessors."

  Leo loosened the gilded chain that looped the curtains, and as thepurple folds fell behind her, hiding the arch, Doctor Douglass saidgently:

  "There is a solemn truth and wise admonition in one of Rabbi Tyra'sdicta: 'Thy yesterday is thy past; thy to-day is thy future; thyto-morrow is a secret.'"

  "Leo, here is a package and a note which arrived during service, and asMr. Dunbar's servant said there was no answer expected, he did notwait."

  As Miss Patty delivered the parcel to her niece, the minister walkedaway to lay aside his vestments, but he noted the sudden hardening ofhis cousin's face, the flush of displeasure, the haughty curl of herlips; and on his ears fell his aunt's voice:

  "You expected and waited for him at morning prayer?"

  "I invited him to join us, if he felt disposed to do so."

  "What possible excuse can he offer for such negligence, when he knewthat Leighton would read the service?"

  An uwonted sparkle leaped into Leo's mild hazel eyes, and withoutexamination she handed the package and note to Justine.

  "Lay them in the drawer of my writing-desk, and then call all theservants into the dining-room. Auntie, tardy excuses must wait longerfor an audience than we waited for the writer. Come to breakfast; unclewill be impatient, and I want to enjoy his surprise when he sees hisSanta Klaus."

  She was sorely disappointed, deeply affronted by Mr. Dunbar's failureto present himself on an occasion at which she had especially desiredhis presence; and as she recalled the affectionate phraseology of hernote of invitation, her fair cheek burned with an intolerable sense ofhumiliation. Was it partition, or total loss, of her precious kingdom?In after years, she designated this Christmas as the era when the"sceptre departed from Judah;" but putting away the chagrin, andsealing the well of bitterness in her heart, she exchanged holidaygreetings, and proudly wore her royal robes throughout the day, holdingsternly off the spectre, which grimly bided its time--the hour of herabdication.

  Through the benevolent and compassionate efforts of Mr. and Mrs.Singleton, some faint reflection of the outside world festivitiespenetrated the dismal monotony of prison routine; and the hearts of theinmates were softened and gladdened by kind tokens of remembrance, thatcarried the thoughts of bearded convicts back to Christmas carols ininnocent youth, and to the mother's knees where prayers were lisped.

  Illness had secured to Beryl immunity from contact with her comrades inmisery, and except to visit the little chapel, she never left thesheltering walls of her small comfortless room, grateful for theunexpected boon of silent seclusion. Her Christmas greeting had beenlittle Dick's sweet lips kissing her cheek, as he deposited upon hernarrow bed the black and white shawl his mother had knitted, and a boxleft by Miss Gordon on the previous day, which contained half a dozenpretty handkerchiefs with mourning borders, some delicate perfume andsoaps, toilet brushes and a sachet.

  An hour later, when Mrs. Singleton and her babies had gone to spend theday with relatives in the city, Beryl went to the window, pushed thesash up, and listened to the ringing of the Sabbath-school bells, asevery church beyond the river called its nursery to the altar, tocelebrate the day. The metallic clangor was mellowed by distance,rising and falling like rhythmic waves, and the faint echo, filteredthrough dense pine forests behind the penitentiary, had the ghostlyiteration of the Folge Fond.

  A gaunt yellow kitten, with a faded red ribbon knotted about its neck,and vicious, amber-colored eyes that were a perpetual challenge, hadfled from the tender mercies of Dick to the city of refuge underBeryl's cot; and community of suffering had kindled an attachment thatnow prompted the lesser waif to spring into the girl's folded arms, andrub its head against her shoulder. Mechanically Beryl's hand strokedthe creature's ear, while it purred softly under the caress; butsuddenly its back curved into an arch, the tail broadened, the purrbecame a growl. Had association lifted the brute's instincts to theplane of human antipathies?

  The warden had opened the door and quickly closed it, after ushering ina tall figure, who wore an overcoat which was buttoned from throat toknees. At sight of Mr. Dunbar, the cat plunged to the floor, and spedaway to the darkest corner under the iron bedstead.

  "Good morning. I dare not utter here the greetings of the day, becauseyou would construe it into a heartless mockery."

  He came forward hesitatingly, and she turned swiftly away, pressing herface against the bars of the window, waving him back.

  "Why will you persist in regarding as an enemy, the one person in allthe world who is most anxious to befriend you?"

  Still no answer; only the repellent gesture warning him away.

  "Will you allow me, this Christmas morning, to comfort myself in somedegree, by leaving here a few flowers to brighten your desolatesurroundings?"

  He held out a bouquet of rare and brilliant hothouse blossoms, whosedelicious fragrance had already pervaded the room. They stood side byside, yet she shrank farther, and kept her face averted, shiveringperceptibly. Lifting one arm he drew down the sash to shut out thefreezing air.

  "You are resolved neither to look at nor speak to me? So be it. Atleast you must listen to me. You may not care to hear that I have beenabsent, but perhaps it will interest you to know that I went in searchof the man for whose crime you are paying the penalty."

  If he expected her to wince under the probe, her nerves were taut, andshe defied the steel; but the face she now turned fully to him was soblanched by illness, so hopeless in its rigid calm, that he felt a keenpain at his own heart.

  "Prisoners, victims of justice, have, it seems, no privileges; else myone request, my earnest prayer to be shielded from your presence, mighthave protected me from this intrusion. Are you akin to Parrhasius thatyou come to gloat over the agonies of a moral and mental vivisection?The sight of suffering to which you have brought a helpless woman, isscarcely the recompense I was taught to suppose agreeable to achivalrous Southern gentleman. If, wearing the red livery of Justice,undue zeal for vengeance betrayed you into the fatal mistake oftrampling me into this horrible place, there might be palliation; butfor the brutal persisten
cy with which you thrust your tormentingpresence upon me, not even heavenly charity could possibly find pardon.Literally you are heaping insult upon awful injury. Is it a refinementof cruelty that brings you here to watch and analyze my suffering, as abiologist looks through lenses at an insect he empales, or Pasteurscrutinizes the mortal throes of the victims into whose veins he hasinjected poison?"

  If she had drawn a lash across his face, it would not have stung morekeenly than her words, so expressive of detestation.

  "Will you consider for a moment the possibility that other motivesactuate me; that ceaseless regret, remorse, if you choose, for aterrible mistake, impels me to come here in the hope of makingreparation?"

  "Such a supposition is as inconceivable as the idea of reparation. Whena reaper goes forth to his ripe harvest, his lawful labor, and wantonlyturns aside into a by-path, to try the edge of his sickle on an humble,unoffending stalk that fights for life among the grass and weeds, andstruggles to get its head sufficiently in the sunshine to bloom--whenhe cuts it off unopened, crushes it into the sod, can he makereparation? Although it is neither bearded yellow wheat, nor yet ablack tare, it proved the temper of his blade; and all the skill, allthe science of universal humanity, cannot re-erect the stem, cannotremove the stains, cannot unfold the bruised petals. There are wrongsthat all time will never repair. Your sword of justice needs nowhetting; one stroke has laid me low."

  "I purpose to file it two-edged, in order to make no more mistakes.Before long I shall cut down the real criminal, the principal, whoshall not escape, and for whom you shall not suffer."

  "Then 'a life for a life' no longer satisfies? How many are required?The law has need of a sacrificial stone wide as that of the Aztecs. Isjustice a'daughter of the horse-leech'?"

  "So help me God--"

  "Hush! Take not His name upon your lips. Men like you cannot afford tocredit the existence of a holy God. This is Christmas--at leastaccording to the almanac--now as a 'chivalrous Southern gentleman,'will you grant me a very great favor if I humbly crave it? Ah, noblesseoblige! you cannot deny me. I beg of you, then, leave me instantly;come here no more. Never let me see your face again, or hear yourvoice, except in the court-room, when I am tried for the crime whichyou have told the world I committed. This boon is the sole possiblereparation left you."

  She had clasped her hands so tightly, that the nails were bloodless,and the fluttering in her white throat betrayed the throbbing of herheart.

  "You are afraid of me, because you dread my discovering your secret,which is--"

  "You have done your worst. You have locked me away from a dying mother;disgraced an innocent life; broken a girl's pure, happy heart; whatelse is there to dread? Although a bird knows full well when it hasreceived its death wound, instinct drives it to flutter, drag itself asfar as possible from the gaze of the sportsman, and gasp out its agonyin some lonely place."

  "When I hunt birds, and a partridge droops its wings, and hovers almostat my feet, inviting capture, I know beyond all peradventure that it isonly love's ruse; that something she holds dearer than her own life, isthereby screened, saved. You are guilty of a great crime againstyourself, you are submitting tacitly, consenting to an awful doom, inorder to spare and protect the real murderer."

  He bent closer, watching breathlessly for some change in her whitestony face; but her sad eyes met his with no wavering of the lids, andonly her delicate nostrils dilated slightly. She raised her lockedhands, rested her lips a moment on her mother's ring, as if drinkingsome needed tonic, and answered in the same low, quiet tone:

  "Then, prime minister of justice, set me free, and punish the guilty.Who murdered General Darrington?"

  "You have known from the beginning; and I intend to set you free, whenthat cowardly miscreant has been secured. You would die to save yourlover; you, proud, brave, noble natured, would sacrifice your preciouslife for that wretched, vile poltroon, who flees and leaves you tosuffer in his stead! Truly, there is no mystery so profound, socomplex, so subtle as a woman's heart. To die for his crimes, were ahappier fate than to sully your fair soul by alliance with one sodegraded; and, by the help of God, I intend to snatch you from both!"

  He had put his hands for an instant upon her shoulders, and hishandsome face flushed, eloquent with the feeling that he no longercared to disguise, was so close to hers, that she felt his breath onher cheek.

  Swiftly, unerringly she comprehended everything; and the suddenness ofthe discovery dazzled, awed her, as one might feel under the blue flashof a dagger when thrust into one's clasp for novice fingers to feel theedge. Was the weapon valued merely because of the possibility offleshing it in the heart of him who had darkened her life? Did heunderstand as fully the marvellous change in the beautiful face, thathad lured him from his chapel tryst with his betrothed? He was on thealert for signals of distress, of embarrassment, of terror; but whatmeant the glad light that leaped up in her eyes, the quick flushstaining her wan cheek, the triumphant smile curving lips that a momentbefore might have belonged to Guercino's Mater Dolorosa, the relaxationof figure and features, the unmistakable expression of intense reliefthat stole into the countenance?

  "Will you be so good as to tell me my lover's name, and where the foxterriers of the law unearthed him?"

  "I will tell you something which you do not already know; that I havefound a clue, that I shall hunt him out, hide, crouch where he may;that here, where he sinned, he shall expiate his crime, and that whenyour lover is hung, your name, your honor, shall be vindicated. Somuch, Lennox Dunbar promises you, on his honor as a gentleman."

  "Words, vapid words! Empty, worthless as last year's nests. My lover,"she laughed scornfully, "is quite safe even from your malevolence. Ifindeed 'one touch of nature makes the whole world kin,' one mightexpect some pity from the guild of love swains; and it augurs sadly forMiss Gordon's future, that the spell is so utterly broken."

  His dark face reddened, lowered.

  "If you please, we will keep Miss Gordon's name out of theconversation, and hereafter when--"

  "Enough! I shall keep her image in my grateful heart, the few tediousmonths I have to live; and there seems indeed a sort of poetic justicein the fact that the bride you covet, has become the truest, tenderestfriend of the hapless girl whom you are prosecuting for murder."

  "Beryl--"

  "I forbid such insolent presumption! You shall not utter the name myfather gave me. It is holy as my baptism; it must be kept unsullied formy lover's lips to fondle. This is your last visit here, for if youdare to intrude again, I will demand protection from the warden. I willbear no more."

  As he looked at her, the witchery of her youthful loveliness,heightened by the angry sparkle in her deep eyes, by the vividcarnation of her curling lips, mastered him; and when he thought of thebrown-haired woman to whom he was pledged, he set his teeth tight, tosmother an execration. He moved toward the door, paused, and came back.

  "Will it comfort you to know that I suffer even more than you do; thatI am plunged into a fiercer purgatory than that to which I havecondemned you? I am devoured by regret; but I will atone. I came hereas your friend; I can never be less, and in defiance of your hatred, Ishall prove my sincerity. Because I bemoan my rash haste, will you saygood-bye kindly? Some day, perhaps, you will understand."

  He held out his hand, and his blue eyes lost their steely glitter,filled with a prayer for pardon.

  She picked up the bouquet which had fallen from the window sill to thefloor, and without hesitation put it into his fingers:

  "I think I understand all that words could ever explain. My shortstream of life is very near the great ocean of rest. I have ceased tostruggle, ceased to hope; and since the end is so close, I wish noactive warfare even with those who wronged me most foully. If you willspare me the sight of you, I will try to forget the added misery of thevisits you have forced upon me, and perhaps some of the bitterness maydie out. Take the flowers to Miss Gordon; leave no trace to remind meof your persecution. We bear chastisement becaus
e we must, but thesight of the rod renews the sting; so, henceforth, I hope to see you nomore. When we meet before our God, I may have a new heart, swept cleanof earthly hate, but until then--until then--"

  He caught her fingers, crushed his lips against them, and walked fromthe room, leaving the bouquet a shattered mass of perfume in the middleof the floor.