Sidebilder
PDF
ePub

part with they must lie with me at the bottom of that deep river— my ring and its diamond keeper; another ring, given me on my birthday; a bracelet, in which his hair was wrought with jewels (he had been munificent in his gifts, as if to atone, as men so often think they can, by gifts, for lack of love); his miniature set with brilliants, which I always wore attached by a chain round my neck, pressed with a white lock of my dear grandmother's hair on my heart-these must remain with me. The other things, cameos and chains, rings and brooches, I cast back into my jewel-case, locking it, and leaving the key upon my table. What a long feverish day it was. He wanted me to sit beneath the trees-the river breeze, he said, was so refreshing and so cool. No hart ever panted for the water-brooks-no lover ever more fondly longed for the electric light of the beloved eyes-no mother ever desired more fervently to hear the voice of her first-born, than I panted for NIGHT! to give me death and my husband liberty!

XI.

I COULD write much from memory on the passing away of light in that lovely land, where night is even more attractive than day; but in my great desire for darkness I lost all sense of the beauty of its approach. It was nearly midnight before sleep fell upon him; but the fatigues and feelings of the past hours claimed their tribute, and he slept soundly; his face looked whiter and more deeply-marked than ever I had seen it before. I felt how soon it would wear a different aspect; the next time, I thought, I shall see it, I shall be an angel—HIS guardian angel. I dared to think this-when on the very threshold of self-murder-the everlastingly destroying sin, that admits of no repentance; but, Mary, my few past hours after the burning were almost madness.

Nay, my Mary, pardon me, He who knows all things has pardoned me, for my repentance has been long and heavy!

I promised the truth-the whole truth.

As I breathed the night air, I enjoyed a sensation of freedom. I paused and panted beneath the trees that overhung the river, gazing timidly between their branches, fearing I might be seen. The water reflected every star and starry ray. I bent over the bank and cast off my shawl. I gazed into the stream with a sense of peace-nay, of happiness. I remember the bubble and rush of water, thinking the sound a requiem. I paused again to listen-yes, it was music, soothing and sweet. My foot was advanced to take the plunge-when, arrested by a power for which I could not, and cannot now account, but which compelled obedience, I re

mained motionless.

That the sensation came direct from HIM who so often saves us from ourselves I truly believe to this very hour. Be it what it would, I sank upon my knees-my hands folded themselves over my bosom without the aid of will; I looked upwards, and felt as if my childhood had returned

[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

when my venerable teacher placed me by her side, and I repeated after her, "Our Father, which art in heaven."

Gradually, gradually, the same outlines that had passed through my window on the previous night developed more and more, and bent towards meluminous eyes filled with tenderness and compassion. Veil after veil seemed withdrawn from before me, and as each fold disappeared, I saw more distinctly the wondrous hierarchy-not sporting or twining arm within arm, as those who are of the "earth, earthy," represent them-but however glorified, still occupied, passing on missions to and fro without guide or pathway, directed by a Power I could not comprehend.

Even while I repeated the first line of that sublime petition, some unseen force urged me forward, and, withdrawing my eyes from heaven and its hosts, I looked upon the river.

Mary, it no longer reflected the lights of heaven-no stars were shining on the turbid stream; it was a dark and warring chaos; its seething waters now gathered into tumultuous heaps; frightful forms were confusedly mingled; here and there a lurid glare sprang upwards, as if fire and water met and struggled. I shrank back in terror and dismay. There could be no rest for body nor soul in that whirl of waters. I upraised my arms to heaven; I fixed my gaze upon the out-stretched firmament. I was alone alone, beneath the clear canopy of an Italian sky! The ministering angels had disappeared; but between me and the river descended a banner of light-a light bright and shining-a very wall of light; a new power took possession of me, and I rushed away from what I had longed for, and now loathed. I had shrouded myself in the simple dress in which I left my home, the morning of my fatal marriage-I had retained it as an antidote against pride-and there was nothing about me to bespeak my rank. I was glad when I bethought me of those lowly garments, that they would aid concealment. 1 fled far away from the village and the river, and at last found I was ascending high ground. The morning was at hand, a soft hazy light creeping over the landscape; and, weary and foot-sore, I cast myself on the earth and endeavoured to gather home my thoughts. All resolve for self-destruction was gone; I felt that I had been saved from a crime for which there is no repentance; but my determination to free my husband remained unshaken.

The letters; the shawl; the river-the rapid, dark, dangerous river! he would believe I had perished there! I would not undeceive him; I would conceal myself but how? I felt assured means would be given me for such concealment. How? Could I tell? Surely, surely I was cared for? Morning was lifting away the vapours from earth, carrying them as incense to the heavens-the world was awaking. I had travelled some miles from the burning inn, the dreadful river. I had achieved a great height had climbed a mountain; no wonder I was so weary. Suddenly, I heard a clock, the dim dull sound of an aged clock-five times it struck. I eagerly turned to whence the sound proceeded. At the other side of a

ravine, not deep nor dangerous, a chasm through which, in winter time, a torrent foamed, stood the grey walls of a religious house. A many-tinted window had just caught the first glow of the rising sun; and, at the instant, strains of sacred music floated from the voices of—yes !—there was a mingling of female voices only-it was a Convent! There! that would shelter me, at least for a time! Yes, there! Even if doubts should possess Sir Oswald's mind that I had not perished, he would never seek me in a convent―he knew how I dreaded the influence of that particular faith, and would not believe I could take refuge within such walls. I concealed the jewels round my waist, and by the time the sun was risen I had been admitted into the presence of the Superior. I stated simply that I had

been very unhappy, and resolving to leave my family, entreated permission to remain there for a little-Would she grant me this for the sake of Him who had directed my steps to their sanctuary? I managed to make myself understood perfectly, although my Italian was anything but pure, and answered her questions truthfully :

"Are you married ?"

"Yes, Madame."

:

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

The lady, who was midway between youth and age, retained few traces of beauty-except her eyes, which were as full of fire as if the warmth of eighteen Italian summers still revelled in her veins. She elevated her delicately-arched eyebrows, when I made my last reply, in astonishment, and dived into an enlarged watch-pocket that she held in her hand for a supply of bonbons, having first coughed a little extemporaneous cough as an excuse for the luxury. After a few moments' pause, she resumed :

"Is he a heretic ?"

"Yes, Madame."

Her eyes flashed triumphantly.

"I see; I see. You wish to be received into our Holy Church ?" 'No, Madame."

She looked at me, fixedly, a cold bitter look, and made the sign of the cross on breast and brow, muttering a prayer.

"Why did you leave him?"

“Madame,” I said, "I cannot tell you; the reason will rest with me in my grave."

"You do not love him ?"

"I do, Madame, more than I do my own life." I burst into tears, and, falling on my knees before her, entreated sufferance if not protection. I appealed to her as a woman not to turn me from her gates. I

« ForrigeFortsett »