St. Elmo a novel |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. | CHAPTER XIV. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
| 33. |
| 34. |
| 35. |
| 36. |
| 37. |
 | CHAPTER XIV. St. Elmo |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
IF the seers of geology are correct in assuming
that the age of the human race is coïncident
with that of the alluvial stratum, from eighty to
one hundred centuries, are not domestic traditions
and household customs the great arteries in which beats
the social life of humanity, and which veining all epochs,
link the race in homogeneity? Roman women suffered no
first day of May to pass without celebrating the festival
of Bona Dea; and two thousand years later, girls who
know as little of the manners and customs of ancient Italy,
as of the municipal regulations of fabulous “Manoa,” lie
down to sleep on the last day of April, and kissing the fond,
maternal face that bends above their pillows, eagerly repeat:
To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad new-year;
Of all the glad new-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.”
For a fortnight Edna had been busily engaged in writing
colloquies and speeches for the Sabbath-school children of
the village, and in attending the rehearsals for the perfection
of the various parts. Assisted by Mr. Hammond and
the ladies of his congregation, she had prepared a varied
programme, and was almost as much interested in the success
of the youthful orators, as the superintendent of the
school, or the parents of the children. The day was propitious—clear,
balmy, all that could be asked of the blue-eyed
beautiful grove of elms and chestnuts, almost in sight of Le
Bocage, Edna went over very early to aid in arranging
the tables, decking the platforms with flowers, and training
one juvenile Demosthenes, whose elocution was as unpromising
as that of his Greek model.
Despite her patient teachings, this boy's awkwardness
threatened to spoil every thing, and as she watched the
nervous wringing of his hands and desperate shuffling of
his feet, she was tempted to give him up in despair. The
dew hung heavily on grass and foliage, and the matin
carol of the birds still swelled through the leafy aisles of the
grove, when she took the trembling boy to a secluded spot,
directed him to stand on a mossy log, where two lizards
lay blinking, and repeat his speech.
He stammered most unsatisfactorily through it, and, intent
on his improvement, Edna climbed upon a stump and
delivered the speech for him, gesticulating and emphasizing
just as she wished him to do. As the last words of the
peroration passed her lips, and while she stood on the
stump, a sudden clapping of hands startled her, and Gordon
Leigh's cheerful voice exclaimed, “Encore! Encore!
Since the days of Hypatia you have not had your equal
among female elocutionists. I would not have missed it for
any consideration, so pray forgive me for eavesdropping.”
He came forward, held out his hand, and added: “Allow
me to assist you in dismounting from your temporary rostrum,
whence you bear your `blushing honors thick upon
you.' Jamie, do you think you can do as well as Miss
Edna when your time comes?”
“Oh! no, sir; but I will try not to make her ashamed of
me.”
He snatched his hat from the log and ran off, leaving the
friends to walk back more leisurely to the spot selected for the
tables. Edna had been too much disconcerted by his unexpected
appearance, to utter a word until now, and her tone
interrupted me, for Jamie will make an ignominious
failure. Have you nothing better to do than stray about
the woods like a satyr?”
“I am quite willing to be satyrized even by you on this
occasion; for what man, whose blood is not curdled by cynicism,
can prefer to spend May-day among musty law books
and red tape, when he has the alternative of listening to
such declamation as you favored me with just now, or of
participating in the sports of one hundred happy children?
Beside, my good `familiar,' or rather my sortes Prœnestinœ,
told me that I should find you here, and I wanted to
see you before the company assembled; why have you so
pertinaciously avoided me of late?”
They stood close to each other in the shade of the elms,
and Gordon thought that never before had she looked so
beautiful, as the mild perfumed breeze stirred the folds of
her white dress, and fluttered the blue ribbons that looped
her hair and girdled her waist.
Just at that instant, ere she could reply, a rustling of the
undergrowth arrested further conversation, and Mr. Murray
stepped out of the adjoining thicket, with his gun in his
hand, and his grim pet Ali at his heels. Whatever surprise
he may have felt, his countenance certainly betrayed
none, as he lifted his hat and said:
“Good morning, Leigh. I shall not intrude upon the
Sanhedrim, on which I have happened to stumble, longer
than is necessary to ask if you are so fortunate as to have a
match with you? I find my case empty.”
Mr Leigh took a match from his pocket, and while Mr.
Murray lighted his cigar, his eyes rested for an instant only
on Edna's flushed face.
“Are you not coming to the children's celebration?”
asked Gordon.
“No, indeed! I own that I am as lazy as a Turk; but
while I am constitutionally and habitually opposed to labor,
sooner than listen to all the rant and fustian that
spectators will be called on to endure this morning. I have
not sufficient courage to remain and witness what would
certainly recall `the manner of Bombastes Furioso making
love to Distaffina!' Will you have a cigar? Good-morning.”
He lifted his hat, shouldered his gun, and calling to his
dog, disappeared among the thick undergrowth.
“What an incorrigible savage!” muttered Mr. Leigh,
replacing the match-case in his pocket.
His companion made no answer and was hurrying on,
but he caught her dress and detained her.
“Do not go untill you have heard what I have to say to
you. More than once you have denied me an opportunity
of expressing what you must long ago have suspected.
Edna, you know very well that I love you better than
every thing else—that I have loved you from the first day
of our acquaintance; and I have come to tell you that my
happiness is in your dear little hands; that my future will
be joyless unless you share it; that the one darling hope
of my life is to call you my wife. Do not draw your hand
from mine! Dear Edna, let me keep it always. Do I mistake
your feelings when I hope that you return my affection?”
“You entirely mistake them, Mr. Leigh, in supposing
that you can ever be more to me than a very dear and
valued friend. It grieves me very much to be forced to
give you pain or cause you disappointment; but I should
wrong you even more than myself, were I to leave you in
doubt concerning my feeling toward you. I like your society,
I admire your many noble qualities, and you have my
entire confidence and highest esteem; but it is impossible
that I can ever be your wife.”
“Why impossible?”
“Because I never could love you as I think I ought to
love the man I marry.'
“My dear Edna, answer one question candidly, Do you
love any one else better than you love me?”
“No, Mr. Leigh.”
“Does Mr. Murray stand between your heart and mine?”
“Oh! no, Mr. Leigh.”
“Then I will not yield the hope of winning your love.
If your heart is free, I will have it all my own one day!
O Edna! why can you not love me? I would make you
very happy. My darling's home should possess all that
fortune and devoted affection could supply; not one wish
should remain ungratified.”
“I am able to earn a home; I do not intend to marry
for one.”
“Ah! your pride is your only fault, and it will cause us
both much suffering, I fear. Edna, I know how sensitive
you are, and how deeply your delicacy has been wounded
by the malicious meddling of ill-mannered gossips. I know
why you abandoned your Hebrew recitations, and a wish
to spare your feelings alone prevented me from punishing
certain scandal-mongers as they deserved. But, dearest,
do not visit their offences upon me! Because they dared
ascribe their own ignoble motives to you, do not lock your
heart against me and refuse me the privilege of making
your life happy.”
“Mr. Leigh, you are not necessary to my happiness.
While our tastes are in many respects congenial, and it is
pleasant to be with you occasionally, it would not cause
me any deep grief if I were never to see you again.”
“O Edna! you are cruel! unlike yourself!”
“Forgive me, sir, if I seem so, and believe me when I
assure you that it pains me more to say it than you to hear
it. No woman should marry a man whose affection and
society are not absolutely essential to her peace of mind
and heart. Applying this test to you, I find that mine is
in no degree dependent on you; and though you have no
warmer friend, I must tell you it is utterly useless for you
I regret that I can not; and if my heart were only puppet
of my will, I would try to reciprocate your affection, because
I appreciate so fully and so gratefully all that you
generously offer me. To-day you stretch out your hand to
a poor girl, of unknown parentage, reared by charity—a
girl considered by your family and friends an obscure interloper
in aristocratic circles, and with a noble magnanimity,
for which I shall thank you always, you say, Come,
take my name, share my fortune, wrap yourself in my love,
and be happy! I will give you a lofty position in society,
whence you can look down on those who sneer at your poverty
and lineage. O Mr. Leigh! God knows I wish I loved
you as you deserve! Ambition and gratitude alike plead
for you; but it is impossible that I could ever consent to
be your wife.”
Her eyes were full of tears as she looked in his handsome
face, hitherto so bright and genial, now clouded and saddened
by a bitter disappointment; and suddenly catching
both his hands in hers, she stooped and pressed her lips to
them.
“Although you refuse to encourage, you can not crush
the hope that my affection will, after a while, win yours in
return. You are very young, and as yet scarcely know
your own heart, and unshaken constancy on my part will
plead for me in coming years. I will be patient, and as
long as you are Edna Earl—as long as you remain mistress
of your own heart—I shall cling fondly to the only hope
that gladdens my future. Over my feelings you have no
control; you may refuse me your hand—that is your right
—but while I shall abstain from demonstrations of affection
I shall certainly cherish the hope of possessing it. Meantime,
permit me to ask whether you still contemplate leaving
Mrs. Murray's house? Miss Harding told my sister
yesterday that in a few months you would obtain a situation
as governess or teacher in a school.”
“Such is certainly my intention; but I am at a loss to
conjecture how Miss Harding obtained her information, as
the matter has not been alluded to since her arrival.”
“I trust you will pardon the liberty I take, in warning
you to be exceedingly circumspect in your intercourse with
her, for I have reason to believe that her sentiments toward
you are not so friendly as might be desired.”
“Thank you, Mr. Leigh. I am aware of her antipathy,
though of its cause I am ignorant; and our intercourse is
limited to the salutations of the day, and the courtesies of
the table.”
Drawing from her finger the emerald which had occasioned
so many disquieting reflections, Edna continued:
“You must allow me to return the ring, which I have
hitherto worn as a token of friendship, and which I can not
consent to retain any longer. `Peace be with you,' dear
friend, is the earnest prayer of my heart. Our paths in life
will soon diverge so widely that we shall probably see
each other rarely; but none of your friends will rejoice
more sincerely than I to hear of your happiness and prosperity,
for no one else has such cause to hold you in grateful
remembrance. Good-by, Mr. Leigh. Think of me hereafter
only as a friend.”
She gave him both hands for a minute, left the ring in
his palm, and, with tears in her eyes, went back to the
tables and platforms.
Very rapidly, chattering groups of happy children collected
in the grove; red-cheeked boys clad in white linen
suits, with new straw hats belted with black, and fair-browed
girls robed in spotless muslin, garlanded with
flowers, and bright with rosy badges. Sparkling eyes,
laughing lips, sweet, mirthful, eager voices, and shadowless
hearts. Ah! that May-day could stretch from the fairy
tropic-land of childhood to the Arctic zone of age, where
snows fall chilling and desolate, drifting over the dead but
buffets on its broad, swift surface.
The celebration was a complete success; even awkward
Jamie acquitted himself with more ease and grace than his
friends had dared to hope. Speeches and songs were
warmly applauded, proud parents watched their merry
darlings with eyes that brimmed with tenderness; and the
heart of Semiramis never throbbed more triumphantly than
that of the delighted young Queen of the May, who would
not have exchanged her floral crown for all the jewels that
glittered in the diadem of the Assyrian sovereign.
Late in the evening of that festal day Mr. Hammond sat
alone on the portico of the old-fashioned parsonage. The
full moon rising over the arched windows of the neighboring
church, shone on the marble monuments that marked
the rows of graves; and the golden beams stealing through
the thick vines which clustered around the wooden columns,
broidered in glittering arabesque the polished floor at the
old man's feet.
That solemn, mysterious silence which nature reverently
folds like a velvet pall over the bier of the pale dead day,
when the sky is
As pensive evening deepens into night,”
the occasional far-off bark of a dog, and the clear, sweet,
vesper-song of a mocking-bird, swinging in the myrtle tree,
broke the repose so soothing after the bustle of the day.
To labor and to pray from dawn till dusk is the sole legacy
which sin-stained man brought through the flaming gate
of Eden, and, in the gray gloaming, mother Earth stretches
her vast hands tenderly over her drooping, toil-spent children,
and mercifully murmurs nunc dimittis.
Close to the minister's arm-chair stood a small table
covered with a snowy cloth, on which was placed the even
and milk. At his feet lay the white cat, bathed in moonshine,
and playing with a fragrant spray of honeysuckle
which trailed within reach of her paws, and swung to and
fro, like a spicy censer, as the soft breeze stole up from the
starry south. The supper was untasted, the old man's silvered
head leaned wearily on his shrunken hand, and
through a tearful mist his mild eyes looked toward the
churchyard, where gleamed the monumental shafts that
guarded his mouldering household idols, his white-robed,
darling dead.
His past was a wide, fair, fruitful field of hallowed labor,
bounteous with promise for that prophetic harvest whereof
God's angels are reapers; and his future, whose near horizon
was already rimmed with the light of eternity, was
full of that blessed `peace which passeth all understanding.'
Yet to-night, precious reminiscences laid their soft mesmeric
fingers on his heart, and before him, all unbidden,
floated visions of other May-days, long, long ago, when the
queen of his boyish affections had worn her crown of flowers;
and many, many years later, when, as the queen of his
home, and the proud mother of his children, she had stood
with her quivering hand nestled in his, listening breathlessly
to the May-day speech of their golden-haired
daughter.
Memory's the breeze that through the cordage raves,
And ever drives us on some homeward shoal,
As if she loved the melancholy waves
That, murmuring shoreward, break o'er a reef of graves.”
The song of the mocking-bird still rang from the downy
cradle of myrtle blossoms, and a whip-poor-will answered
from a cedar in the church-yard, when the slamming of the
parsonage gate startled the shy thrush that slept in the
vines that overarched it, and Mr. Leigh came slowly up the
walk, which was lined with purple and white lilies whose
rivaled the glory of Solomon.
As he ascended the steps and removed his hat, the pastor
rose and placed a chair for him near his own.
“Good evening, Gordon. Where did you immure yourself
all day? I expected to find you taking part in the
children's festival, and hunted for you in the crowd.”
“I expected to attend, but this morning something occurred
which unfitted me for enjoyment of any kind; consequently
I thought it best to keep myself and my moodiness
out of sight.”
“I trust nothing serious has happened?”
“Yes, something that threatens to blast all my hopes,
and make my life one great disappointment. Has not Edna
told you?”
“She has told me nothing relative to yourself, but I
noticed that she was depressed and grieved about something.
She was abstracted and restless, and went home
very early, pleading fatigue and headache.”
“I wish I had a shadow of hope that her heart ached also!
Mr. Hammond, I am very wretched, and have come to you
for sympathy and counsel. Of course you have seen for a
long time that I loved her very devotedly, that I intended
if possible to make her my wife. Although she was very
shy and guarded, and never gave me any reason to believe
she returned my affection, I thought—I hoped she would
not reject me, and I admired her even more because of her
reticence, for I could not value a love which I knew was
mine unasked. To-day I mentioned the subject to her, told
her how entirely my heart was hers, offered her my hand
and fortune, and was refused most decidedly. Her manner
more than her words distressed and discouraged me. She
showed so plainly that she felt only friendship for me, and
entertained only regret for the pain she gave me. She was
kind and delicate, but oh! so crushingly positive! I saw
that I had no more place in her heart than that whip-poor-will
while I live I will cling to the hope that I may finally win
her. Thousands of women have rejected a man again and
again and at last yielded and accepted him; and I do not
believe Edna can withstand the devotion of a lifetime.”
“Do not deceive yourself, Gordon. It is true many
women are flattered by a man's perseverance, their vanity is
gratified. They first reproach themselves for the suffering
they inflict, then gratitude for constancy comes to plead for
the inconsolable suitor, and at last they persuade themselves
that such devotion can not fail to make them happy. Such
a woman Edna is not, and if I have correctly understood
her character, never can be. I sympathize with you, Gordon,
and it is because I love you so sincerely that I warn
you against a hope destined to cheat you.”
“But she admitted that she loved no one else, and I can
see no reason why, after a while, she may not give me
her heart.”
“I have watched her for years. I think I know her
nature better than any other human being, and I tell you,
Edna Earl will never coax and persuade herself to marry any
man, no matter what his position and endowments may be.
She is not a dependent woman; the circumstances of her
life have forced her to dispense with companionship, she is
sufficient for herself; and while she loves her friends warmly
and tenderly, she feels the need of no one. If she ever
marries, it will not be from gratitude for devotion, but because
she has learned to love, almost against her will, some
strong, vigorous thinker, some man whose will and intellect
master hers, who compels her heart's homage, and without
whose society she can not persuade herself to live.”
“And why may I not hope that such will, one day, be
my good fortune?”
For a few minutes Mr. Hammond was silent, walking up
and down the wide portico; and when he resumed his seat,
he laid his hand affectionately on the young man's shoulder,
saying:
“My dear Gordon, your happiness as well as hers is very
dear to me. I love you both, and you will, you must forgive
me if what I am about to say should wound or mortify
you. Knowing you both as I do, and wishing to save you
future disappointment, I should, even were you my own
son, certainly tell you, Gordon, you will never be Edna's
husband, because intellectually she is your superior. She
feels this, and will not marry one to whose mind her own
does not bow in reverence. To rule the man she married
would make her miserable, and she could only find happiness
in being ruled by an intellect to which she looked up
admiringly. I know that many very gifted women have
married their inferiors, but Edna is peculiar, and in some
respects totally unlike any other woman whose character I
have carefully studied. Gordon, you are not offended with
me?”
Mr. Leigh put out his hand, grasped that of his companion,
and his voice was marked by unwonted tremor as he
answered:
“You pain and humiliate me beyond expression, but I
could never be offended at words which I am obliged to
feel are dictated by genuine affection. Mr. Hammond,
might not years of thought and study remove the obstacle
to which you allude? Can I not acquire all that you deem
requisite? I would dedicate my life to the attainment of
knowledge, to the improvement of my faculties.”
“Erudition would not satisfy her. Do you suppose she
could wed a mere walking encyclopædia? She is naturally
more gifted than you are, and, unfortunately for you, she
discovered the fact when you were studying together.”
“But, sir, women listen to the promptings of heart much
oftener than to the cold, stern dictates of reason.”
“Very true, Gordon; but her heart declares against
you.”
“Do you know any one whom you regard as fully worthy
of her—any one who will probably win her?”
“I know no man whose noble, generous heart renders
him so worthy of her as yourself; and if she could only
love you as you deserve, I should be rejoiced; but that I
believe to be impossible.”
“Do you know how soon she expects to leave Le Bocage.”
“Probably about the close of the year.”
“I can not bear to think of her as going out among strangers—being
buffeted by the world, while she toils to earn a
maintenance. It is inexpressibly bitter for me to reflect,
that the girl whom I love above every thing upon earth,
who would preside so gracefully, so elegantly over my home,
and make my life so proud and happy, should prefer to
shut herself up in a school-room, and wear out her life in
teaching fretful, spoiled, trying children! O Mr. Hammond!
can you not prevail upon her to abandon this scheme?
Think what a complete sacrifice it will be.”
“If she feels that the hand of duty points out this destiny
as hers, I shall not attempt to dissuade her; for peace
of mind and heart is found nowhere, save in accordance
with the dictates of conscience and judgment. Since Miss
Harding's arrival at Le Bocage, I fear Edna will realize
rapidly that she is no longer needed as a companion by
Mrs. Murray, and her proud spirit will rebel against the
surveillance to which I apprehend she is already subjected.
She has always expressed a desire to maintain herself by
teaching, but I suspect that she will do so by her pen.
When she prepares to quit Mrs. Murray's house I shall
offer her a home in mine; but I have little hope that she
will accept it, much as she loves me, for she wants to see
something of that strange mask called `life' by the
world. She wishes to go to some large city, where she can
command advantages beyond her reach in this quiet little
place, and where her own exertions will pay for the roof
that covers her. However we may deplore this decision
certainly we can not blame her for the feeling that prompts
it.”
“I have racked my brain for some plan by which I could
donor; for if she rejects my hand, I know she would not
accept one cent from me. Can you suggest any feasible
scheme?”
Mr. Hammond shook his head, and after some reflection
answered:
“We can do nothing but wait and watch for an opportunity
of aiding her. I confess, Gordon, her future fills me
with serious apprehension; she is so proud, so sensitive, so
scrupulous, and yet so boundlessly ambitious. Should her
high hopes, her fond dreams be destined to the sharp and
summary defeat which frequently overtakes ambitious men
and women early in life, I shudder for her closing years, and
the almost unendurable bitterness of her disappointed soul.”
“Why do you suppose that she aspires to authorship?”
“She has never intimated such a purpose to me; but she
can not be ignorant of the fact that she possesses great talent,
and she is too conscientious to bury it.”
“Mr. Hammond, you may be correct in your predictions,
but I trust you are wrong; and I can not believe that any
woman whose heart is as warm and noble as Edna's, will
continue to reject such love as I shall always offer her. Of
one thing I feel assured, no man will ever love her as well,
or better than I do, and to this knowledge she will awake
some day. God bless her! she is the only woman I shall
ever want to call my wife.”
“I sympathize most keenly with your severe disappointment,
my dear young friend, and shall earnestly pray that
in this matter God will overrule all things for your happiness
as well as hers. He who notes the death of sparrows,
and numbers even the hairs of our heads, will not doom
your noble, tender heart to life-long loneliness and hunger.”
With a long, close clasp of hands they parted. Gordon
Leigh walked sadly between the royal lily-rows, hoping
that the future would redeem the past; and the old man
sat alone in the serene silent night, watching the shimmer
of the moon on the marble that covered his dead.
| CHAPTER XIV. St. Elmo | |